Under Different Stars

Chapter Four

"No! I... I just..." Vincent wasn't sure what had come over him. Hunger, exhaustion, the impossibility of the task ahead - something had caused him to take leave of his senses. And now he'd been caught redhanded.

"You do realise you're still holding a handful of my house in your hand, don't you?" the woman added.

To his horror, Vincent realised she was right. A handful of chocolate chip sponge was squelched between his fingers. He felt his cheeks flush as he dropped the smushed crumbs to the ground.

"There. Now that you're no longer trying to consume my property, how about you come inside and I get you something to eat that isn't part of my masonry?"

Vincent looked at her in surprise. She was smiling from rosebud lips, her honey eyes still twinkling with an expression he couldn't place. She really was impossibly beautiful. Vincent felt a new creeping dread crawling along his spine as he considered her perfect appearance, concealed armour and miraculous house. Whoever she was, she wasn't human.

He backed away. "I really should be going. I'm very sorry about the house. I promise it won't happen again."

"Now, now, I'll have none of that. You can't go tasting a girl's walls and not stay for a cup of tea afterwards."

There was something about the steely certainty of her tone that made Vincent realise there would be no use in arguing. He'd been caught stealing from her redhanded. That would put him in a dangerous situation even if she was only human. And if she was something else - fae, a witch, an enchantress - well, angering her further definitely wouldn't help him on his journey.

His shoulders slumped in surrender. "Thank you, for your kind offer of hospitality. A rest wold be most welcome."

The air inside the house smelt of nutmeg and cinnamon and fresh apple pie. Despite his handfuls of brick, Vincent's stomach rumbled as he stepped over the threshold.

The door led straight through into a cosy room with two chairs arranged in front of a candy cane edged fireplace. Everything was warm, welcoming and constructed from sweet treats. Even the spiderwebs were spun sugar and Vincent watched in awe as a chocolate mouse poked its nose out of a hole to sniff at the new arrival.

The only feature that made him pause was the wall above the fireplace. On it was a row of gingerbread men, their icing faces contorted in various expressions of horror. Their bright candy eyes followed Vincent around the room and he couldn't shake the feeling that if their lips could move, they would be screaming at him to run away as fast as possible.

"Now, you take a seat there," the woman who probably wasn't human said, gesturing to a squishy brown chair that looked as though it might have been made of brownie.

A fire burnt in the grate, and Vincent turned towards its warmth. It had been weeks since there had been wood to burn in Whistledawn.

The woman put the basket of flower on top of a cabinet then reached inside to pull out a bottle of lilac liquid and two glasses, which she placed on a shortbread table beside the second chair, but didn't pour.

"Proper introductions are in order, I believe," she said as she took her seat. "My name is Marsella. What should I call you?"

"Vincent."

"And what brings you into the woods of Gluce in the middle of the night, Vincent?"

Was it the middle of the night? Darkness had been setting in when he first entered the forest, but it came sooner every day as the dead season drew closer. And if it was as late as Marsella suggested, why had she been out picking flowers?