You can read the story so far from the beginning here
The kitchen was warm and cosy. The lamps in the corners were the only dim light and the fire in the kitchen stove rumbled companionably. Tom and Magnus sat at the scrubbed kitchen table, hunched over steaming cups of coffee. Bracken sat on a small nursing chair next to the fire, carefully knitting a scarf.
“It’s getting quieter in the bedroom,” Tom said.
Magnus nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. “I don’t think there’s a single picture in the room left with glass. They’ve all been smashed.”
“At least the windows are still intact,” Tom said, then winced. “I shouldn’t tempt fate. At least the windows haven’t broken yet.”
Bracken laboriously finished a row then slowly stood. “Would you like food?” she asked.
“Bracken, you should go to bed,” Tom said. “You’ve been rushing around all night. Magnus and I can take over for a little while.” He searched for the best way to persuade the little brownie to rest. “We aren’t as good as you, but we’ll need to be looked after later, and you won’t be able to take care of us properly if you haven’t rested.”
“I is a brownie,” Bracken said proudly. “And I keep the home.”
“And you’re good at it,” Tom said. “But it’s been a tough couple of days and we’re all feeling it. We need to be rested if want to keep going.”
Magnus nodded. “We don’t know what’s in those notebooks,” he said. “We’ll need all our strength to face what’s coming.”
Bracken sagged a little and then nodded. “I shall nap like a cat,” she announced. “Just a little sleep until dawn.”
Tom watched her carefully stoke up the fire and then shuffle slowly out of the room. “I remember when she was still in Lord Peregrine’s hall,” he said. “She was a tiny twig of a thing, quieter than a mouse and always on edge.” He shook his head. “Now she’s speaking up and answering back and keeping us all in order.”
“It’s not surprising that she was like that,” Magnus said. “She’s older than she looks, though she’s young for a brownie. Great Uncle Finlay told me about her.”
Tom looked at him narrowly. “Is this about real things or Great Uncle Finlay things?” he asked.
Magnus pushed his coffee away from him. “I daren’t have another coffee,” he said. “I wouldn’t say that I suffer from being anxious, but I think I’m one small coffee away from a panic attack.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Samgan set the curtains on fire,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it!”
“I remember,” Tom said. “I came in with a jug of water, even though I didn’t believe there could be a fire, but there were flames down one side.”
Magnus started looking through the well-ordered kitchen cupboards. “Do you fancy a cup of herbal tea?” he asked. “I could do with something to warm my bones, but nothing with caffeine.”
“Try the third cupboard from the end,” Tom said. He stooped and added another log to the stove. “We need to keep the fire going. They could need anything in that sickroom.”
“I’ve found a supermarket version of lemon and ginger,” Magnus said. “Do you want a mug?”
“Why not?” Tom said. “And I may as well refill all the kettles while I’m here.”
The two men pottered gently around the kitchen before sitting back down with two fragrant mugs and a large plate of lemon shortbread biscuits set between them. “You were saying about Bracken,” Tom said. “And that Great Uncle Finlay had a story.”
“It wasn’t one of his usual ones, so I’m pretty sure that it’s the truth,” Magnus said. He took a bite of lemon shortbread and chewed thoughtfully as he considered where to start. “It went something like this. Years ago, there were a lot more people in the village and around here.”
Tom nodded. “Dad used to complain about getting help on the farm and said it was easier back in the day.”
Magnus nodded. “Once upon a time, people left the village to see a bit of the world and maybe make a bit of money, but they came back. But they don’t come back anymore.” He sighed. “There were a lot more supernaturals as well. The pack was much bigger. There must have been at least thirty of us, back in your great-grandfather’s day, and there were four vampires, with a couple living right in the centre of the village. But people started leaving and the supernaturals went with them. I mean, old Mr Ginly, the vampire who used to live next to the new stores, he held out as long as he could. Great Uncle Finlay said that he made do with the pig farm that used to be over near Pateley Bridge, but in the end it didn’t really work for him and I think he ended up moving down to Sheffield.”
“I didn’t realise that there had been that many,” Tom said. “We hardly even see Cabus these days.” He pushed the simmering kettles to the edge of the stove to keep the heat in.
“Once Lord Peregrine had been dormant for a while, it got worse,” Magnus said. “According to Great Uncle Finlay, it was barely worth staying. The hall was falling into disrepair and people were drifting apart.”
“I’ve never heard Lord Peregrine talk about that time,” Tom said.
“I’m not surprised,” Magnus said. “I daresay he feels guilty, and some bad stuff happened, but fae have to go with the rhythms of their earth and his nature said to sleep, so sleep he did.” He took a sip of his heavily sweetened lemon and ginger tea. “Bracken would be one of the things that upsets him. You see, according to Great Uncle Finlay, one of her ancestors took an oath that there would always be a member of their family to serve Lord Peregrine as long as their line lasted.” Magnus paused and for a few moments the silence was only broken by the ticking of the clock and the hiss and crackle of the fire in the stove. “That’s a hell of an oath, and I can’t imagine the circumstances that led to it. Great Uncle Finlay thought it must have been around the time of the Black Death or something dramatic like that, but bad things happen at all times and who knows.” He paused and stared into the fire. “When things got really quiet and there were hardly any of us supernaturals around, the brownies felt that they had to leave. Well, you know how brownies have to keep busy, and there wasn’t much to do in Lord Peregrine’s hall except watch it fall to pieces.” He sighed softly. “So the family left. I mean, not all of them. The Lesken sisters were part of the family. I think that they were sisters to Bracken’s grandmother. But they had already started the tea rooms and weren’t around much.” Magnus thought for a moment. “Uncle Finlay said that they could cook, once, so they may have done meals, but I don’t know. What he did say was that Bracken’s parents and her four sisters and three brothers went to go to live in Leeds and left her to serve Lord Peregrine whenever he got back.” Magnus looked sombre. “From what Great Uncle Finlay said, and from what I’ve seen, she was only a kid, barely able to look after herself, let alone the hall. Ivy and Olive called in and fed her a bit and taught her how to clean, but they were busy and she was pretty much abandoned.”
“Poor kid,” Tom said. “No wonder she’s blossoming here.”
“I’m wondering if that’s why the Lesken sisters retired and went to work in the hall,” Magnus said. “I know that they were getting old, and the building needed an urgent upgrade, but they’d been staggering on for a while. If they’re at the hall, though, then the oath is being fulfilled.” He stood and poked the fire, watching new flames lick up the bars of the grate. “And if Bracken’s cooking for the shop then it’s sort of serving him,” he said. “The oath would still stand.”
“Do you know if she hears from her family?” Tom asked quietly.
Magnus shook his head. “They could all be dead as far as I know,” he said. “After all, they headed into Leeds and strange things happen there. She doesn’t seem to miss them, though, and she’s got Hilary on her side, which helps,” Magnus said. “The woman is a warrior.”
Both men stiffened as a crack rang out from the bedroom. They sat, frozen, for a few moments, then relaxed as there was no further noise.
“I did my best, you know,” Magnus said quietly. “I knew what your dad was like. He was always a nasty piece of work, and age didn’t improve him.”
Tom shrugged. “I don’t think that there was much you could do,” he said. “It’s not like he beat us.”
Magnus shook his head. “It was worse, really,” he said. “I’m glad you weren’t physically hurt, but when he had those rages, it was terrifying. Your mum didn’t seem to be bothered and your brother was just as bad as your father, but I always felt that you deserved better.”
“Do you know, at one point, we only had plastic plates because he broke every china plate that we owned,” Tom said. He put a hand on his uncle’s arm. “I know that you did your best, and I always loved getting out and about with you. It’s okay.”
“I was the one that insisted that you got a job away from us,” Magnus said. “I sold it to your father as you getting influence and experience that would do you well later, and I thought that if you came back then having someone on the farm who knew how to patch up a building would be an advantage.”
“It was a lifeline,” Tom said. He glanced at Magnus then back at the fire. “You stopped my dad from taking my money, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t realise at first, or, at least, I didn’t realise what was going on,” Magnus said. “Back when I was a pup, everyone handed over a few quid to their parents out of their first wage packets. It’s just what you did. Half the time the parents put it to one side and it paid for the kid’s wedding or a deposit on a house or car for them. Sometimes the wages of the older kids paid for the younger kids to have food on the table. But you weren’t supposed to take the whole wage. How was a kid supposed to save up?”
“I think that was the point,” Tom said wryly. “Dad couldn’t have me getting a bit of money put by and having a chance to get away.” He stood and stretched. “Maybe we should take our own advice and get some rest. I’ll stay here and you could get a couple of hours sleep on my bed. We could switch over after that.” He paced slowly around the room, stopping by the fire to warm his hands.
“I’m staying here for a bit whether I’m asleep or awake,” Magnus said. “There’s some cold rain coming in and I’d be drenched before I got home.” He took another sip of his lemon and ginger tea. “Though if I was going to have a nap, I’d rather have it in a chair in here. That fire is lovely and warm and I’ll bet that there’s noting so cosy in your room.”
Tom shook his head. “There are fireplaces in the rooms, but none of us bother,” he said. “But I know that they lit a fire in Samgan’s room and Hilary put about a dozen wards over it to keep it safe.”
“I’m not surprised with everything flying about,” Magnus said.
Something crashed in the green bedroom. The two werewolves exchanged anxious glances as a howl went up, followed by some creative swearing.
“You have to respect Paul’s use of language,” Tom said. He padded out of the kitchen and down the hall, cautiously easing the door open. “Can I help?”
The room was a wreck. Scorch marks trailed across the wallpaper and the curtains hung in tatters while the fire in the grate burned an unsettling shade of green. Hilary and Paul sat either side of the bed, their shoulders slump and a nasty burn mark down Paul’s forearm. In the centre of the bed, Samgan was shivering uncontrollably. Hilary nodded. “Could you refresh the hot water bottles, please, and could you refill the bowl with hot water.”
Tom nodded. “Can I fetch you anything to eat or drink?” he asked.
Paul looked up. “We can’t have anything just yet,” he said wearily. “But another flask of peppermint tea for Samgan would help.”
“And I don’t know if Bracken got some chicken soup out,” Hilary added. She ran a tired hand over her face. “Could you check what’s happening with that.”
“I’ll check,” Tom said. “And hot water bottles, bowl of hot water, and peppermint tea.” He looked at the pitiful figure huddled in the centre of the bed. “Is he going to be okay?”
“We’ll know in the next hour or so,” Hilary said. She looked at Paul, who shrugged. “I think so, if he can get through until morning, he should be fine.” She managed a wan smile. “And get some rest between you and Magnus,” she added. “We’ll need help tomorrow, even though it’s not likely to be quite so nerve wracking, and it’s been a long night.”
“It really has,” Tom said.
