Dangerously Ill

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

“Do you think Jed takes advantage of Lord Peregrine at the Farm Shop?” Bracken asked as she deftly peeled apples in the warm, welcoming kitchen.

Hilary watched her for a moment, thoughtful. The little brownie was showing an unexpected aptitude for cookery of all sorts. “I think that it’s complicated,” she said. “I think Lord Peregrine will take extra apples from Jed and allow him to charge the full price, but I also think that Jed hands over the sort of gifts that appeal to the fae, like honey and marzipan, and makes room for supernaturals. You know, like allowing the local pack to hunt on his land and not cutting the last stand of wheat or barley.”

Bracken nodded. “It’s the sort of complicated that makes my head hurt,” she said.

“You’re picking up cooking quickly,” Hilary said. “I think it’s part of your magic.”

Bracken shot her an offended look. “I is not magical. I is a brownie, with nothing confusing.”

“You may not do magic,” Hilary said. “But you have skills in getting into places and being extra quick at cleaning.”

“That is the spirit of being a brownie,” Bracken said. “It is nothing magical.”

Hilary kept her doubts to herself. “Well, whatever it is, I think that cooking is part of it,” she said. “Do you want me to start the pastry?”

“You use the machine to make pastry,” Bracken sniffed. “Now that I know about pastry, I can make it by my hands.”

“Whichever method you use, it’s still better than mine,” Hilary said. “If you finish up the apple pies ready for the freezer, I’ll get started on the cheese scones.”

“We are almost ready for the new stores to open,” Bracken said, slicing the apples into neat chunks. “Do you think that there will be enough made?”

“If there isn’t enough, we can always make more,” Hilary said, fumbling at the phone ringing in her pocket. “Hang on a moment.”

“Miss Hilary? It’s Lord Peregrine. I need your help.”

Hilary felt a shiver slid down her spine. “Of course. What is it?”

“I’ve found Samgan but he is extremely ill,” Lord Peregrine said. “I’m bringing him to you. He needs medical help and I have nowhere else to take him.”

“Bring him here,” Hilary said. “How long before you get here?”

“We’ll be perhaps twenty minutes,” Lord Peregrine said.

“And what’s wrong with him?” Hilary asked. “Is he injured?”

“We didn’t see any signs of injury,” Lord Peregrine said. “He’s running a fever and delirious.”

“And he’s a pooka?” Hilary started pacing.

“He’s quite definitely a pooka,” Lord Peregrine said.

“I’ve nursed similar before,” Hilary said. “I’ll get ready.”

“I’ll pay whatever is required,” Lord Peregrine said. “When I was dormant, I didn’t protect him. And now he is very ill indeed.”

“This is not the time to worry about debts,” Hilary said. “I’ll be waiting.” She rang off and shoved the phone in her pocket.

“What has happened?” Bracken asked.

“They’ve found Samgan and he’s sick,” Hilary said. “They’re bringing him here. I don’t want you too near him in case it’s contagious, but you’ll have to help me. First of all, clear up the kitchen. The apple can go in lemon water and everything else back in the cupboards. Then I’ll need you to get out the ice packs from the freezer and two hot water bottles – you can find them in the cupboard next to the ironing board. I’ll also need a large flask of peppermint tea with lots of honey. Can you do that?”

Bracken nodded, already packing away the baking with inhuman efficiency. “Yes, and I’ll see if there are any fresh mint alive in the garden.”

“Be careful what you pick,” Hilary said, then hurried out of the kitchen, her mind racing.

The green bedroom was the obvious choice. It was on the ground floor with an ensuite bathroom and had large windows that Hilary immediately flung wide open. When Lord Peregrine started bringing up the idea of lodgers, she had quickly gone through the bedrooms and brought them up to date. She was glad of it now as she stripped the bed down to the plain sheet and pillows and checked that the mattress protector was firmly in place. Nursing any of the goblin kin was no job for the faint-hearted and it was better to be prepared. Just as quickly, she cleared everything from the bedside tables and threw a spare pillowcase over the mirror on the wall. She checked the time on her phone. They would be here any minute. She raced into her tiny office and pulled out a few bottles of essential oils from their box and hunted through her notebooks. What made sense for mortals didn’t always make sense for supernaturals and she didn’t want to get anything wrong.

She stopped for a moment and swallowed. She had to get things right. There wasn’t any other choice. To her knowledge, there wasn’t a doctor or nurse that had experience with this sort of patient within two hundred miles. Samgan was relying on her because there was no-one else. She gathered what smooth magical flow there was into her for a moment, holding onto her worries and then letting them go. She rushed into the kitchen. “Bracken, I want you to stay in the kitchen as much as possible, or in your own room, at least until we know more.” She managed a faint smile. “You can perhaps get some of the not real books from the library to read while we work things out.”

“Brownies are meant to be busy,” Bracken said firmly. “The ice packs are over there, wrapped in towels and I have put more water into the freezer to make ice.”

Hilary looked around the immaculate kitchen. “You’ve done great work.” She looked up as a roar of quadbikes rattled through the windows. “They’re here. Remember, Bracken, stay away from Samgan until we know more.”

Bracken nodded. “I shall,” she said, her hands twisting helplessly. “The kettles have almost boiled for the hot water bottles.”

Hilary ran to the door and flung it open. “I’ll need a bowl of hot water for the room,” she said. “Bring it through and then leave straight away. And wash your hands afterwards,” she called over her shoulder to Bracken as she hurried out towards Magnus as he strode towards the cottage. “How is he?”

“He’s bad,” Magnus said tersely.

“Follow me,” Hilary said, taking Magnus and the frail figure in his arms through the kitchen and across the hall. “In here and lay him on the bed.”

“Paul and Tom are on their way,” Lord Peregrine said as he followed them into the green bedroom.

“Lay him down,” Hilary instructed Magnus. “Careful!”

Magnus laid Samgan down on the bed as Hilary rushed into the bathroom. “You’re safe here,” he said uncertainly to the pooka now tightly curled up on the bed. “The witch will heal you.”

“Do not send me to the hole!” Samgan sobbed. “Not the hole.”

Hilary rushed back in with a bowl of warm water that she placed on the bedside table. “You are not going into the hole,” she said with calm authority, pulling a chair over to the bed and sitting next to the pooka. “I’m going to make you better.” She eased the coat from him. “Magnus, would you be kind enough to close the windows. When Bracken comes in, you are to place the bowl of hot water on the table near the window. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course,” Magnus said.

“Is your name Samgan?” Hilary asked.

Samgan nodded as he sobbed. “Please, it all hurts.”

“I’m sure it does,” Hilary said. “Okay, Samgan, I want you to hold still while I try and make you a little more comfortable.”

Magnus flinched as the glass in the picture frame shattered. “Should I get a brush?”

Hilary didn’t look away from Samgan as she wrung a cloth out in the warm water. “Wait until Bracken gets here and ask her to bring a brush and dustpan to the door.” She wiped the cloth gently over Samgan’s face. “It’s going to be okay, Samgan. You’re going to feel better soon.”

There was a tap at the door and Magnus hurried over. “I need a dustpan and brush,” he whispered as Bracken handed over the steaming bowl of water, shutting the door as she hurried away. He looked back on the bed. Hilary was carefully washing Samgan, going back again and again to wipe fresh water over his forehead and wrists. “Those are some nasty scars,” he said quietly.

Hilary nodded but didn’t stop. “Put the bowl on the table and close the windows,” she reminded him.

Magnus hurried to follow her instructions. The windows were stiff but the room was almost immediately warmer when they shut. He looked back at the pooka. “He looks like he’s half starved to death,” he said.

“So cold,” sobbed Samgan. “So cold.”

“You are running a fever,” Hilary said calmly. “That will make you feel poorly. But I’ll get some medicine and make you feel better.” She turned to Magnus. “Pull the curtains closed and add some of the peppermint essential oil to the hot water, please,” she said.

Magnus flinched as the mirror dropped to the floor with a sharp crack. “Should I get rid of the pictures?” he asked.

“No hole!” Samgan sobbed. “No witch.”

Hilary pressed her lips tightly together and took a deep breath. “Please close the curtains and add peppermint oil to the water. We don’t want to risk flying glass if the windows go and the oil will make Samgan feel better. Once the broken glass is cleaned up then it may be a good idea to remove breakables.”

Magnus shot a horrified glance at the wide windows and hurriedly pulled the curtains over. “Okay, peppermint oil.”

“It’s on the dresser,” Hilary said, never taking her eyes from Samgan.

“So dark,” Samgan cried. “And I hunger!”

“I’ll get you more comfortable and then you can have soup,” Hilary said, wringing the cloth out once again. “I have some nice chicken soup that you can have.”

Samgan tossed and turned, pushing away the coat. “So hot! So hot!”

There was another tap at the door and Magnus rushed to answer it. “I has tea in the flask with lots of peppermint and honey and the brush,” Bracken murmured, glancing nervously past Magnus.

“Please start heating up a pan of chicken soup,” Hilary said. “And you should put a casserole in the oven for the men when they arrive.” She whisked the coat away. “You are safe here,” she told Samgan with implacable assurance.

“Too hot!” Samgan cried. Sparks shot across the room, hissing as they landed in the bowls of water and leaving scorched pin-pricks all over the curtains and wallpaper. “I has hot!” he repeated.

“Put plenty of oil in the water and then bring the flask over,” Hilary instructed. “Samgan, can you hear me?”

“So hot,” Samgan moaned.

“I am going to get fresh water to clean you,” Hilary said. “You must lie still and calm.” She looked over to Magnus. “Stay away from the bed.”

Magnus backed away carefully before added a liberal dose of peppermint oil to the hot water. The fragrance flooded the room and a little tension left Samgan. Magnus started sweeping up the broken glass from the picture.

Samgan groaned. “There is fire.”

Magnus looked over and dropped the dustpan as Samgan rose slowly off the bed. “Hilary!”

Hilary slipped back into the room, placing the fresh water on the bedside table. “Samgan, get back on the bed,” she said firmly. “I can’t make you feel better if you’re not in bed.”

“But it’s hot,” whimpered Samgan as he lowered slowly back onto the bed. A scraping noise came from the dresser and Magnus spun around to see smoke seeping out of the top drawer.

Hilary ignored Magnus pulling the smouldering drawer out and throwing it into the hall and instead concentrated on pouring peppermint tea from the thermos flask into a small, clear mug. “Samgan, are you listening to me?”

Samgan curled up and shivered. “I hear you, I hear you,” he muttered. “It’s so cold.”

“I’m going to give you something to drink,” she said. “It will make you feel better.”

“So cold,” Samgan whimpered, huddling into himself.

Magnus stared at the brittle shards in the dustpan and then up at the pictures around the wall. “There’s ice on the glass.”

“Very likely,” Hilary said without turning around. “Come on, Samgan. You need to take a mouthful of this. It will make you feel much better.”

“So cold,” Samgan sobbed, but he allowed Hilary to help him to sit up a little and sip at the tea. “Oh, that is nice!”

“That’s it,” Hilary encouraged. “It will make you feel better.”

Samgan looked up at her with unseeing eyes. “Please, mistress, please, don’t put me in the hole!”

“I won’t put you in the hole,” Hilary said. “Take another mouthful of tea.”

“I can hear Tom and Paul in the drive,” Magnus said. “They can help me clear the room.”

“Don’t let them take me!” Samgan shrieked, clutching at Hilary’s wrist with emaciated fingers.

“I won’t let them take you away,” Hilary assured him. “Come on, take a little more tea.” She looked over her shoulder at Magnus. “Go and get Paul – quickly! I can’t be on my own for too long.” She glanced down at the huddled pooka sipping carefully at the peppermint tea. “I’m going to need all the help that I can get.”