Emily Feather and the Enchanted Door (6 page)

Emily rubbed her hand across her face. There was so much she didn't understand.

“Didn't anyone notice that you suddenly had an extra baby?” she murmured. “What did you tell people?”

Ash crouched down in front of her. “We didn't tell anyone anything, Emily love.”

“Oh…” Emily nodded slowly. “I suppose you can just make people believe anything?”

“Pretty much.”

“But we don't,” Eva put in. “Only when we really have to. We try to live without our magic as much as we can, while we're here.”

“You could do anything … anything you like.” Emily felt her eyes filling with tears. “What did you want me for? What use could I be to someone like you?”

Ash frowned. “I don't know, Emily. I wasn't thinking like that. I couldn't leave you there, that's all.”

“But what about my real parents?” Emily gulped. “Did you – did you leave something else behind?”

Then it hit Emily with a sudden force, almost stealing away her breath. The book. This was why Robin had to get her out of the library. They didn't want her reading that book, because she might remember what had happened.

She was the girl. The stolen baby in the story of the changeling child. Except – the fairies hadn't taken her to some distant fairy land, they'd kept her here. The wooden baby from the story filled her mind, leering at her with its strange, sharp-toothed smile. What if her real parents hadn't known, and that changeling baby was still living in her room, taking Emily's place in her true family?

“She means a changeling,” Robin said. He was sitting on the edge of the table, his wings twitching idly behind him. “She was reading that story, remember? It wasn't like that, Emily.”

“I didn't steal you,” Ash said, stroking her cheek, the way he always did when she was sad. In spite of herself, even knowing what he had done, Emily felt better. It wasn't a spell, she was almost sure. It was just her dad being lovely.

How could he not be her father? Emily's tears spilled down over Ash's fingers, and he flinched a little, his lips pulling back over pointed teeth. But he kept going, gently cradling her face and talking to her.

“I didn't have to steal you, Emily. You were on your own. Someone had left you there, by the river. Wrapped up in a blanket. I couldn't leave you there. Like you said, I just – took you.”

“He went out for a walk and came back with you,” Lark said, patting her knee. “When he brought you home, we thought you were a doll. We were only three, and you were tiny, Emily. Doll-sized.”

“I was abandoned?” Emily asked, her voice hardly above a whisper. “They didn't want me?”

“But we wanted you,” Eva said fiercely. “We still do. We shouldn't have told her,” she added in a murmur to Ash. “We were all so happy…”

Emily sprang up, pushing her way past Ash, and feeling the jolt of magic as his power caught at her. “You should!” she sobbed. “You were happy, but it was all a lie. I knew it was. I could feel it. I didn't fit in. I'm not yours! You shouldn't ever have taken me in the first place.”

Emily darted out of the kitchen door, racing for the stairs. All she could think of was to get away to her room, to think. To work out what she was going to do. To try and understand what was going on.

How could she not have realized before? She didn't look like Robin and Lory and Lark. She wasn't brilliant at school like they were. There were so many ways that she didn't fit in. But she'd thought that meant she was just the odd one out – not that she didn't belong to her family at all.

It was just too much stuff to take in. She needed her room, and her things. She wanted to wrap herself up in her quilt and think about it all. Lark and Lory and Robin had wings – they could really fly. Who knew what else they could do? Her mum had said they tried to live without magic as much as possible, but maybe Robin and Lark and Lory did it all the time? She smiled miserably to herself. It would explain why Robin always managed to do his homework in about three minutes flat.

Emily blinked and looked around her. She had been blindly rushing up to her room, her eyes so full of tears that she wasn't really looking where she was going. Now she was halfway up the stairs, and she could tell that something was wrong.

She was cold, and the stairs smelled weird. Emily clutched the banisters, and sniffed, and rubbed her hand across her eyes.

The stairs were growing. The wooden spindles that held the banisters up were sprouting thin little branches and tiny leaves. As she watched, the leaf buds opened out into delicate fans of green. The banister felt rough under her fingers, like bark.

Emily closed her eyes, and opened them again. Was this her mum and dad – Ash and Eva, she corrected herself sadly – using their magic to bring her back downstairs?
Honestly, they could have just shouted
, she thought. But then, they probably had. She hadn't been listening.

Emily shook her head angrily. She wanted time on her own. They couldn't spring something like this on her and expect her not to be upset!

Determinedly, she marched up the last few steps to the landing. If she tried hard enough, she could see through the magic to the real stairs. They were still there, even though she seemed to be climbing a hill with short, sheep-nibbled grass, and rocky slabs laid into it to climb up.

“It's a spell,” Emily muttered, trying not to be delighted by the flowers growing over the stones. They smelled so beautiful, and their petals were jewel-bright… Emily hissed and shut her eyes again, climbing by feel. The stone slabs didn't feel like stone yet, though she suspected they might, if she wasn't quick.

She carefully didn't look into the mirror outside Lark's room, but she could see out of the corner of her eye that someone was moving inside it – or something. Emily stomped on with a grim determination to get inside her own room and slam the door on everybody else. When there weren't fairy sisters fluttering their magic wings at her and filling the air with spells, she would be able to
think
.

It felt as though she'd taken hours to get across the landing and over to the creaky little narrow staircase to her room. She would not let them drag her back! Emily braced both hands against the walls and half pulled herself upwards. She risked a glance behind through half-closed eyes, and set her teeth. More branches. Twined with dark, glossy ivy now, woven in and out with trails of tiny white flowers that smelled of honey.

“I don't like honey, Mum,” Emily snarled. “You ought to know.”
I bet you would know, if I was really yours
,
she added silently, hot tears burning her eyes again.

The ivy was wrapping itself around her fingers, wiry stems pulling her in. Emily yanked her hands away, seeing the leaves shiver and rattle in surprise. “Stop it! I'm going up to my room, leave me alone!” She put her hands on to the step in front of her, going on all fours instead, clinging to the steps with her fingertips, even though they groaned and gave underneath her. She was not climbing up a thin lattice of branches, Emily told herself determinedly. It was an illusion. There were stairs underneath, solid ones, and she would not give in.

With a triumphant gasp, she reached up and grabbed the white china door handle – she wasn't even going to think about what that might be turning into. Her door was glowing; the purple paint she'd chosen had turned translucent, like the amethysts in Eva's favourite necklace. Emily just hauled the door open and slammed it behind her. “Leave me alone!” she yelled, leaning back against the door and closing her eyes.

It was when she opened them again that Emily first thought she might have made a mistake. She had assumed that once she got inside her room, the magic from downstairs would stop. Her mum and dad would stop, she'd thought. They'd give up and let her have some time on her own.

But the strange purple glow of the door was just the same on the other side – brighter, if anything. She could see it shining through her fingers where they were pressed against the door – the same way that they glowed red if she cupped a torch inside her hand. Except this light was brighter, and stronger, and it had the same honey-flower smell as the tiny blossoms on her stairs.

It didn't make her think of Ash, or Eva, or her sisters. And Robin definitely wouldn't make something like this. Downstairs, even when Eva had looked so odd, with those huge eyes and her fiery hair, she had still felt like herself to Emily. Lark's wings had been part of Lark. Emily was pretty sure, now that she thought about it, surrounded by this weird, sickly-sweet glow, that she would know a spell that any of them had made.

This was something else. And she wasn't in her bedroom at all.

Emily swallowed and let go of the door. She recognized this. The odd purple cast over everything had made it look different, but the purple light was fading now, and she could tell it was the riverbank that she'd seen in her dream.

It was darker now, but she recognized it. And even though it was dark, it seemed more real. Clearer. She was actually here, she realized. She shivered a little as a chill rose off the water and rustled the leaves on the willow trees. This was no dream.

She had gone
through
that purple door to somewhere else. It wasn't like the stairs, where she could see the real steps beneath the magic. This was another world.

She glanced behind at her bedroom door, wondering how she'd managed to get here when it should have been her room. Then she let out a little moan of panic.

Her door wasn't there now either. No more weird purple light. The door had disappeared when she let go of it.

Emily stepped forward, making for the very edge of the water, where she'd met the girl with the weed-green hair in her dream. The girl had been friendly – or friendly-ish, at least. She might tell Emily where she was. And how she was supposed to get back home, now that the door had gone.

Emily crept forward, pushing her way through the dangling branches of the willow trees, straining her eyes in the dim, greenish light. It was very eerie. But then, anything would be after the way she'd arrived here, she told herself. It didn't necessarily mean bad things.

The trees were swaying, the long leafy trails swinging in the wind. Emily lifted up a handful of leaves and gasped, finding a pale-faced boy staring back at her, smiling. He had the same huge-eyed, sharp-eared look as Robin, but his hair was distinctly green, and Emily was sure that if he leaned back against the willow-tree trunk, his grey-brown skin and the dusty-looking trousers he was wearing would disappear, melting into the bark.

“I – I don't know where I am…” Emily faltered. “I didn't mean to come – here. Um. I don't actually know where here is. Could you show me – I mean, the door's gone…”

The boy smiled wider, and put his finger to his lips.

“Oh! Oh, sorry…”

This time, he pressed his finger to Emily's lips instead, and then there was a strange hissing sound from all around her. Emily glanced sideways, and gasped. There were at least ten or so more girls and boys, a little older than her. All touching her, and cooing, and purring, and patting at her gently, as though she were a baby, or a kitten.

The original green-haired boy looked disgruntled, she thought, as though he hadn't really wanted to share. He was at the back of the little huddle now, his lips crossly pursed, and his hands resting on his bony hips.

What did they want from her? Emily thought in a panic, as the strong, silky fingers ran over her hair and pulled at the sleeves of her hoodie. Anxiously, she started to pull away, or try to, but there were too many of them, wafting their scented hair in her face, and purring at her in words she almost recognized. Words that she'd heard Eva singing, or Lark and Lory, before Ash told them to be quiet. Emily had thought it was because he was working, but maybe he just didn't want her to hear. Their voices were very sweet…

She stared at them vaguely, trying to remember what was happening, but all she could think was that they were fairies, like her sisters, and that Lark and Lory and the rest of her family probably spoke like this too. When she wasn't around. It was the saddest thing she'd ever imagined, and tears puddled in the corners of her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

There was an outbreak of whispering at that, as the fairies followed the tracks of her tears with their fingertips, and one daring girl with brown hair all wound up with twigs touched a tear, and winced, and then licked her finger, laughing.

Did human tears burn? Emily wondered. Ash had flinched at the touch of them as well. At least, she thought he had. Her memories were fading and blurring as the fairies whispered in her ears and stroked her hair so gently. She began to feel herself swaying, and now her thoughts were only of how beautiful they were, their large eyes gleaming as they stared down at her.

“Ssshhh, ssshhh,” they whispered, as she sank back into their arms, and they carried her off, singing.

 

Emily blinked, and groaned a little. Her head was aching. And Mum must have found a new fabric conditioner, because her bed smelled really weird, too sweet and flowery. Someone was sitting on the bed with her – Emily guessed it was Gruff, and reached out a hand to stroke him sleepily.

The someone laughed, and Emily jumped up, jolted awake in a second. In that moment between sleeping and waking, she had forgotten what had happened, what she knew now.

Was she dreaming, maybe? For one last hopeful instant she wondered if it had
all
been a dream – that when she was properly awake, she'd be able to go into her parents' room, and tell them she'd dreamed they were all fairies, and she was adopted. Perhaps her dad would laugh at her, and say it was a sign, and it must mean she ought to make him some fairy cakes; they were his favourite.

But she was properly awake already. She knew she was. She pinched the back of her hand just in case, and then sucked at it, because it hurt.

The fairy sitting on the side of the huge bed tutted anxiously at her, and took Emily's hand in both of hers, shaking her head and murmuring at Emily soothingly. “Don't do that, silly child.”

Emily frowned, puzzled. “Have I met you before? I feel like I have, but I can't have done…”

The girl smiled at her. She was much grander-looking than the greenish people Emily had met on the riverbank. Emily guessed that perhaps they were tree spirits, given their leafy, bark-skinned look. This girl looked more like Eva, or maybe Lory, with a mass of golden-bright hair, intricately wreathed and plaited around her head. Jewelled wires were woven in and out of the coils, so that the whole of her hair resembled some amazing, delicate crown. She had wings like Lark and Lory too, but hers were more like a butterfly's, a soft, dusty, pale green scattered with black spots and frills all round the edges. Her dress was a stronger green than her wings, and it was embroidered all over in golden thread, scattered here and there with jewelled flowers.

Emily swallowed sadly. It looked very like something her mother would have made. But of course it did. This was where all Eva's wild, beautiful designs had come from. And probably Ash's eerie novels too, Emily thought. She shivered. She hoped that not all the strange monsters he'd come up with were real.

Emily lifted her eyes from the fairy's dress to her face, carefully, trying hard not to look her in the eyes. She wasn't quite sure why – it just seemed to be a good idea.

“I'm not meant to be here,” Emily said awkwardly, looking at the girl's pointed ears, her jewelled hair, anywhere but her dark, sparkling eyes. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, I'm sure you
should
be here,” the fairy disagreed. “Nothing ever really happens by accident, does it?” She ran delicate, soft fingers down the side of Emily's cheek. “So pretty. So alive! It only amazes me, Emily, that you haven't found your way here before.”

There was a chorus of pretty, jingling laughter at this, and Emily realized that she and the fairy weren't alone in the room. Somehow she hadn't been able to see past her until now. But it was as if the laughter broke a spell, and Emily could see that there was a cluster of other beautiful girls around the bed, their hair woven into different elaborate styles, and their dresses just as fine.

Two more of them, one in a rose pink dress, the other wearing a dark crimson-red that picked up the purplish lights in her black hair, came to sit on the bed next to Emily.

“We've been longing to meet you,” the dark-haired girl whispered. “We've seen glimpses of you, through the doors. We've wanted to meet you properly for so long…”

Emily blinked at her. “I don't understand…” she murmured. “Which doors? I don't know you, I'm sure I don't. How do you know my name?”

“Ohhh, she looks exhausted, poor little thing,” the girl in pink murmured, her gauzy dragonfly wings shimmering excitedly. “We should be more hospitable, don't you think?”

“Of course, how rude we are…” The fairy girl in green laughed again. “You must be hungry, Emily.” She waved a hand, a sharp commanding movement that didn't seem to sit well with her graceful air.

Emily swallowed, her eyes widening. It was as if the fairy's gesture suddenly made the rest of the room appear. Until then, Emily had only seen the bed she was lying on, and the fairies gathered close to it. The bed was strange enough, a careless bundle of grand fabrics and coverlets slung over a gilded frame. The bedposts were clearly metal, but so delicately twisted into the shapes of flowers and birds and tiny mice that they could have been alive. Perhaps they had been, once. That little golden frog's look of wide-eyed surprise could well be real.

But now Emily gazed out across the room, as a tiny creature wrapped in brown approached her with a plate. It was the largest bedroom she'd ever been in, even bigger than Rachel's gorgeous room. It looked like a room in the castle they'd been to last year on their school trip, with a polished stone floor and bright tapestries hanging on the walls.

Waiting by the door of the room was a little cluster of smaller creatures, like the one who was holding out the plate to her now. Servants, Emily thought, from their clothes and their bowed heads. She looked curiously at the fairy offering her the food, wondering if they were all children, or if they were just some smaller sort of fairy. Gnomes, maybe, she wondered, remembering what she'd said to Robin. Or perhaps brownies. Brownies made her smile, and think of Rachel again – Rach had been a Brownie, and she'd loved it. Emily had never gone, mostly because Lark and Lory hadn't, and when she'd been smaller, she'd wanted to be just like them.

That was never going to happen now, Emily thought, blinded by sudden tears again as she remembered. She wrapped her arms around her knees and hugged them tight.

The brownie, or whatever it was, stared up at her in horror, as though it thought it might be blamed for her unhappiness. It was a girl, Emily decided. Something about the wide, golden-brown face made her sure, though it was hard to tell. The snub nose and dark, dark eyes could be either a boy's or a girl's, and so could the tousled hair. She wore a plain brown tunic, with a twist of ivy wrapped around the waist for a belt. Her hands were shaking, Emily suddenly realized, feeling sorry for her. Perhaps she really was going to get into trouble. The little creature lifted up the plate to her again, staring at her hopefully, and Emily caught the smell of the fruit that was spilling over the sides.

For a moment she forgot how frightened she was, and how angry with her family. She'd never smelled anything so good – except, perhaps, a long time ago, at home. Something a little like it once, when she'd been playing with Lark and Lory in the garden. She couldn't remember quite where.

The pieces of fruit seemed to glow against the silver plate, as though they were lit from inside: a cluster of emerald-green berries, and something that looked like an orange, except it was split open down one side, spilling out scarlet seeds, dripping with juice. And apples, golden and fawn and green, glossy leaves still attached, as though they'd been picked only moments before.

Emily stretched out her hand to take something without even meaning to, and the brownie let out a sigh, as though she hadn't dared to breathe before, and smiled at her, nodding eagerly. She balanced the plate in one hand, and with the other, she held out a fine cloth napkin to Emily, as though she had on one of those beautiful jewelled dresses that might be ruined by a smear of juice, and not just her denim shorts and a hoodie.

“Do eat, Emily,” the dark-haired fairy murmured eagerly, her eyes sparkling. She reached out to the plate and took an apple while the brownie watched her nervously. Her small, pointed teeth bit into it deeply, and she sighed. “So good. You should try.” The juice was running down her chin a little, and she licked it away. Then she closed her eyes, and her wings quivered in delight. The peacock eyes in the corners shimmered, the colours pulsing, so that Emily could only stare at them, and be filled with hunger for the sweet fruit.

Which to choose? Emily took the napkin with a murmured, “Thank you,” and reached out, stroking the sun-warmed fruit. She had just picked up a strand of garnet-red berries when there was a sudden commotion at the door. The other brownies were shrieking in alarm, and the brownie girl holding out the plate to her turned round, shrinking back against the bed anxiously.

“Emily, no!”

Lark and Lory were racing towards her, weirdly out of place in their jeans and vest tops, their feathered wings spilling out behind them as they ran.

The dark-haired fairy with the peacock butterfly wings gasped angrily. She dropped the apple, standing up hurriedly in a rustle of stiff silk skirts as though she meant to stop Lark and Lory coming anywhere near. But the other two fairies caught her hands, whispering to her, and she sat down, watching with a strange sort of smile.

Emily's first reaction was to leap off the bed and hug her sisters – she was so glad to see someone she knew in this strange, terrifying, beautiful place. She reached out to Lark, smiling in relief. Then she remembered.

Lark and Lory belonged here, just as much as the fairy girls in their finery. Emily didn't. She stared at them doubtfully.

“Don't eat anything!” Lory snapped, reaching out a hand for the berries, and Lark snatched the plate from the frightened brownie and flung it on to the ground. The servant girl let out a little wail of horror, and the other fairies whispered angrily to each other.

“Why not?” Emily pulled away, feeling suddenly cross, and clutched the handful of berries against her top. Lark and Lory always ordered her about – and they weren't even her sisters. “What did you do that for? She was only being nice!”

Lark sighed, and reached out to put an arm round her, but Emily pulled away, scrambling up the bed with the berries still in her hand. She could feel the other fairies watching eagerly, and the one with the peacock wings was leaning over to her now, holding out her own hands and smiling, as though she wanted to wrap Emily in her arms and comfort her.