When he opened his eyes, he recognized Matilda's room, the posters with football players on the walls and the bed with white sheets. The room had little furniture: a bed, a wardrobe, a wooden table with a chair. After his eyes were accustomed to the bright light invading the room through the window, he discovered a thin creature crouched on the wardrobe, watching him with small, beady eyes.
Before he knew whether it was a dream or not, the creature jumped from the wardrobe, then dashed out the door. Ferry had gotten used to this every time he visited Matilda. That's how Finn was like, always a dash.
After Finn was gone, the door opened and Matilda entered, accompanied by Sage, the wolf-man.
"You're awake," she smiled, stepping closer to the bed, but keeping the distance. "And I who thought fairies didn't sleep much."
"How long have I been sleeping?"
"You've been sleeping for two days," Sage said in his husky voice.
Ferry tried to get up, but he felt the room spinning with him. He collapsed again on the pillows that smelled of soap and cakes.
Matilda came to him and helped him wrap in a light but warm blanket.
"My mother, she must be worried," whispered Ferry.
"Don't worry," the girl said, "my mother told her you were staying at Ben's for the weekend to work on a school assignment. I brought you clean clothes if you want to change," she added, showing him the chair next to the bed on which he could see, perfectly folded, some clothes of Matilda's father. "You can stay here for a couple of days if you like. You need to rest," she said and wanted to leave. But Ferry took her by the hand, and the girl turned, looking at him with wonder. She seemed sad and upset, for some reason.
"What happened in Mrs. Jones's house?" he asked her.
Matilda sat on the side of the bed and bit her lip, before saying, "What exactly do you remember?"
"I remember everything until you left for the attic. Then, Mrs. Jones started singing. And then, I don't remember anything."
Sage stepped closer, "What did she sing?" he asked.
Ferry frowned, trying to remember, "A weird song, like a lullaby... peaceful, but haunting at the same time. I know I've heard it before..."
"What about the tea she gave you? What was the taste?" Sage asked.
"Sweet and sour... Like caramel sugar."
Sage gave it a thought.
"She said she put rum in his tea," Matilda said. "Maybe that's why he was acting so weird when I came," she added, and Ferry had the impression her cheeks turned red.
Sage shook his head, "Hard liquor has power over fairies, it's true. It weakens their bodies and darkens their minds. But it doesn't make them forget. What you're saying looks like a charm."
"A charm?" Matilda repeated, and Ferry could see the concern in her eyes.
"Yes," he continued, "there are many charms that are madeout of songs and magical liqueurs. One of them is called Untying the Tongue."
"What does it mean?" Ferry asked, raising from the pillows.
"It's a charm that makes you say everything you know, whether you like it or not."
Upon hearing his words, Matilda bit her lip again, her hands trembling in her lap. "I was supposed to take care of you and I failed," she said, keeping her head down.
Ferry wanted to take her hand but noticed that the girl had both hands bandaged.
"Matt, what happened to your hands?"
Matilda couldn't look into his eyes, "I got hurt when I was trying to open the attic's door to get to you," she said in a low voice. "I failed," she added, and her voice broke. "I was calling for you, and you didn't answer me. I didn't know what was going on ... I was so scared, Ferry ..." she said and a tear fell down her cheek.
"It's not your fault, Matt. I was reckless. I put us both in danger. Mrs. Jones is hiding something, I know she is. I'm sure Andrew has something to do with it, even though I didn't see any trace of him in the house," he said and tried to hold her hand again.
But Matilda gently withdrew her hand, shaking her head, "I shouldn't have left you alone. I should have known something was wrong ..."
Sage placed his heavy, hairy hand on the girl's shoulder. The gesture was strangely tender for the imposing stature of his fairy-guardian.
"It's not your fault, Mattie," Sage said softly, as gentle as the voice of a werewolf could be. "We just have to be more careful. I'll tell Thyme--"
"No, don't tell Thyme, please," Ferry asked, suddenly becoming agitated. "We haven't been the best of friends lately. It would upset him to know I got involved in people's business again."
"Don't tell him, Shadow, please," Matilda said, turning to Sage.
Sage sighed, "Fine. But you must stop wandering around that place," he warned Ferry.
"But I have to," Ferry protested, "I promised Anne that I would be back."
"Garrett, it's dangerous," Sage shook his head. "It's not a good idea."
"She keeps her locked, Sage. In the darkness. I need to get her out of there."
"It's not your business," he said. "You can talk to someone from the Town Hall."
"Yes," added Matilda, "someone might come and see if she is mistreated or something like that."
"It's not just that," Ferry shook his head stubbornly. "She can talk, and she's not crippled. It's not as her mother would want everyone to believe."
"Maybe she wants people to believe that so she can take advantage of the girl's illness," Matilda said. "There have been cases where money was raised by people in town for sick children. You can't say they're doing fine with money. You saw what their house looked like ..."
Ferry was about to protest when Matilda's mother came into the room. "That's enough with the visit for today. The boy must rest now," she said.
Matilda and Sage headed for the door.
"I'm glad you're here," the girl said, before going out.
Ferry smiled at her, then plunged into the soft pillows and Matilda's scent; he managed to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When he woke up, it was already dark. From the backyard, he could hear cheers and laughter. He slowly rose from the bed and went to the window. Matilda, Sage, and her father were playing football with a ball Matilda's father had made. Sage had built a gate out of branches and was now trying to defend it in front of Matilda but was not very successful. The girl screamed with joy every time the ball hit the gate's net. Her father and Sage were cheering and shouting with her. At one point, Sage lifted her above his head in his strong arms and carried her across the yard like a winner. Matilda closed her eyes, stretched her arms as if flying, with the cold wind in her hair.
Ferry heard a noise behind him. Matilda's mother had entered without him hearing it, too focused on watching the joy in the backyard. He hadn't seen Matilda that way in a long time. Was the game making her so happy?
"I brought you a hot soup," Matilda's mum said softly. "You should eat something."
After leaving the bowl on the table, she also went to the window and looked out. It was almost dark, and the silhouettes of the three players were barely visible. But Matilda's laughter was just as clear, scattering everywhere, louder than darkness itself.
"Shadow has become part of the family," Matilda's mother said. "Sometimes I think he's closer to Tilly than I am. But I think their friendship does them good. He has become her refuge. Every time she is sad or lonely, he is always there," she said with a sigh.
Ferry said nothing. He didn't know that side of Matilda. Nor that of Sage. He had always thought he was Matilda's best friend. He always thought she was coming to him when she was sad, or upset, or lonely. That he was the one always there for her, not Sage. Hadn't he seen things around him just because he'd been too busy with his own problems? He couldn't help but sigh.
Matilda's mother put her hand on his shoulder, as if guessing his doubts, "I know what it's like to have your heart split in two," she softly said. " To not know which love to choose, to lie to yourself that maybe one of them is bigger. And no matter how hard you try to choose between them, someone always gets hurt. And not know if you made the right choice... Always think if the other love was meant to be that love ..."
And Matilda's mother came out as easily as she had entered. But her words stayed. And Ferry swore right then and there he would never let anyone else get hurt because of him. That he would never put anyone in danger. As of now, his problems would be his and his only. And that he would try to solve them, somehow. Alone.
*
Things seemed to get back to normal after the ill-fated visit to Widow Jones. At school, Ferry tried to be alone with May a few times; but he noticed the girl avoided him each time. He couldn't even visit her at home anymore; the girl had not even responded to his call under her balcony, and her room had remained in the dark, as had his heart. Only the flower he gave her was still in the window, a small sign that perhaps she hadn't completely forgotten him.
Then, May has been missing school for a long time because he got sick from the flu. For an entire day, Ferry has prepared himself to visit her. He put on his best clothes and bought her the most expensive candy box. He had prepared his best scarf as a gift for her, to keep her warm and to remind her of him every time she wore it.
But all his enthusiasm melted when, at the entrance to the flower shop, he was greeted by May's father who told him that May was not receiving visits because her illness was contagious. Then, he turned his back and mind his own, leaving Ferry in the middle of the flowershop and the clients that happened to be there that day.
Ferry had then decided to wait. He had no choice. Meanwhile, someone else had become the subject of discussions at school. The drama between Andrew and Billy was far from over. The latter stubbornly refused to talk to his former best friend and even avoided him at all costs. The relationship between them had become so cold, that one day, Andrew had to shout behind Billy that he was sorry right on the high school's corridor. It even seemed to Ferry that Andrew had tears in his eyes. But Billy had clenched his teeth and left the school without even looking back.
Matilda said that it was probably just the grumpy nature of Billy, who was always giving up his best friends without explanations. She told him about Danny Stevens, who has been his best friend for years, but then, the two of them would never talk again. For some reason, Ferry believed the real reason the two were not friends anymore was a little more serious than Billy's moods.
Andrew didn't come to the mansion either. Unlike other times, Billy didn't bring other friends to keep him company. Ferry had met him a few times in one of his walks, his mind elsewhere. His eyes looked empty. The smirk had disappeared from his face; he was no longer arrogant with the servants. He wasn't trying to upset Ferry every time they met. Ferry felt sorry for him, though he knew Billy didn't deserve it. He thought about how sad he would be without his friends. And how lucky he was to have them.
Everything at the mansion seemed dull and gloomy. Even in the days when the sun managed to find its way through the clouds, the sunbeams seemed not to reach that place. All the faces Ferry met at the mansion were just as grey as the house itself. The people who worked there minded their own business. Mr. Pride was missing again, probably gone in on one of those business trips. Mrs. Pride had returned to her drinks and music which echoed on the corridors of the house again and again. The curtains of the last room on the third floor were still drawn.
On one of those days, when time seemed to slow down, Ferry went down to the basement room to leave some fir branches for the fire. Ol' Joseph had told him that wet branches burned harder, indeed, but they always spread that scent of the forest only conifers can spread. Ferry left the branches near the fireplace and turned to leave. Then, he saw her. Mrs. Pride was sitting in one of the armchairs, hidden by the shadow of the large lampshade in the corner.
Ferry fussed, "Mrs. Pride ... I didn't see you ..."
She didn't answer, but slowly rose from the armchair and came to him. The folds of her satin dress fluttered, waving like foamy waves on her bony body. In the dim light of the room, she seemed older and tired.
Ferry wanted to get out of there, but she cut his way out.
"I have to go," he mumbled. "Ol' Joseph is waiting for me ..."
"Oh, I'm sure that crabby old man can wait," she said in a husky, tobacco-flavored voice. "Keep me company for a while," she added and placed her hand with bony fingers on his arm. Her hand seemed to Ferry like a claw penetrating his flesh, so powerful was the grip. He sat in the first chair he stumbled upon only to get rid of that touch.
Mrs. Pride went to the bar and poured herself a drink.
"Would you like something to drink? I have everything: brandy, wine, bourbon ..."
Ferry was sure it was illegal for him to drink, let alone during working time. "Just water, please," he said, feeling a lump in his throat.
Mrs. Pride handed him a glass of water, her fingers with long nails, painted with a blood-colored nail polish, intentionally touching his hand. Ferry hardly swallowed a mouthful of water.
She then went to the gramophone and put on a disc. The music filled the room, heavy as a wave of smoke, coming as if from other times. Her body began to move in slow waves, her back to him. Ferry was stuck in his seat. She turned to him and stretched out her long, bare arm.
"Dance with me," she said. "I haven't danced with somebody for so long..."
Ferry got up, not knowing what to do or how to get himself out of that situation. Mrs. Pride took his hands and put them on her back. Her body was stiffed, almost lifeless. She then put her cold arms around his neck, tying and clinging to it. Ferry felt her heavy breath of alcohol and tobacco on his neck. A sensation of dizziness seized him, causing him to shiver and pull back. But Mrs. Pride clung to him desperately.
"I missed you so much," she whispered, lowering her hands on his back and caressing him with long, round moves that felt like crawling under his skin.
Ferry then realized she was drunk. And she was probably confusing him for her husband.
"Why do you come so rarely?" she continued. "And when you come, you don't even want to see me ... Don't you know how much it hurts? ... You only mind your own. You travel, you see new things, you meet interesting people ... I am cursed to stay in this place that disturbs my mind and steals my youth away. Why don't you take me with you? Why don't we run away from everything and everyone?" she asked and tears began to flow, watering Ferry's shirt.
Then, she broke away from him, and took a few steps back, staggering on her feet; she covered her face and looked at him for a moment, with the mascara dripping down her face, mixed with tears, "You're so young, so alive ... I can feel the youth flowing through your veins. How do you always stay so young? What's your secret?" she said, coming over him again, and caressing his arms and chest.
Then, before Ferry realized it, she pressed her lips against his. Her kiss tasted like ash. Ferry held his breath, unable to move. He wanted to run, but his feet didn't listen. Instead, another kiss came to his mind, like in a dream. But that was fresh and strawberry-tasted. It was the only kiss he's ever known—Matilda's kiss. He desperately hanged on it. He had the strange feeling he had tasted her sweet lips more than once; was it a dream? It felt so real ... How different was her fresh, warm kiss from Mrs. Pride's greasy, lifeless lips which were now consuming his lips, sucking on them like leeches ...
After a few moments that seemed an eternity to him, Mrs. Pride let go of the kiss.
"Go now," she hissed with a haunted look on her face, "I don't want him to find us," she said, clutching his arm again with her claw-hands.
"Who?" Ferry asked before she let go of the grip.
"My husband."
Thank you for being part of the story, the magic, the mysteries! Let me know your thoughts and your amazing theories. You're the best.