Red (4 page)

The bees swarmed the girl, trying to drive out the intruder. “Ah! Ouch!” she cried. “Why are you being so mean? What did I ever do to you?” She backed out of the buzzing mob and pulled her shawl off her head.

I knew this girl. She was about my age, maybe a little younger, but I clearly remembered the day her family had come to The Mountain to mine gold, eager and confident, though none of us understood why. We rarely found gold, and what we did find always went to the king, who gave us little more than survival in return. But then the father had proudly presented his daughter, a petite, dimple-cheeked girl with a headful of golden curls tucked in a frilly cap.

“This is my daughter, Goldie,” he said. The rest of the grown-ups scratched their heads, wondering why in the name of The Mountain they hadn't thought to give their children
that
name. It seemed an obvious choice. A girl named Goldie was destined to find gold. And yet this name did not serve their family well, for it wasn't long before The Mountain ran dry of gold. We stopped receiving rations from the king, and when the king died, the new queen had no love for gold, and the mines were closed. Everyone left to find other trades and livelihoods—to be farmers or soldiers or merchants.

I thought Goldie and her family had moved away months ago with all the rest, but here she was, sticking her nose where it was not wanted.

“I just want a bit of honey, you know. I'm not here to hurt you!” She scolded the bees and swatted at them with her brown shawl. I rolled my eyes. Why did everyone think swatting at bees was a good idea?

“Ouch!” She threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine! Keep your stinking honey! It's probably disgusting anyway!” She kicked dirt at the bees and stomped off. I let out a breath and stepped into the clearing, glad to have it to myself again.

I approached the swarm of bees calmly, as light as a feather floating on a gentle breeze. A few bees came and landed on my ears and shoulders and head. I didn't flinch, and they didn't sting. I've never been stung, not even when I've taken their honey. Granny says it's because they can feel my magic and it makes them calm, which I find odd, since my magic makes
me
so uneasy.

I reached into the log and pulled out a lump of honeycomb, dripping and oozing with honey—and bees, of course. The red cloak was almost completely covered with bees. I stepped away from the hive, waiting until most of the bees flew away. Then I turned and froze.

Goldie was back. She stared at me, wide-eyed. She had rich brown eyes that stood out against her golden curls, and an innocent look about her that most people probably found sweet, but I was not fooled. I knew that the sweetest-looking creatures could also be the most vicious. And annoying. Pixies, for instance.

Her gaze shifted to the honey dripping down my hands. She licked her lips.

“How did you
do
that?” she said. “I tried for nearly an hour to get some honey, but those bees were such beasts! I couldn't get within a foot of the hive.”

“That's because it's not yours,” I said coldly.

“Oh, goodness, is it yours? Mummy is always scolding me for getting into other people's things, but I never suspected a
beehive
might belong to someone. Does it have your name on it?”

“I thought your family left The Mountain,” I said, ignoring her questions.

“We did. Only I had to come back because I forgot something very important. I'm looking for—”

“How did you find this place?” I interrupted. I didn't care a bee's stinger what she was looking for.

“Oh, it was easy. I have a knack for finding things that are golden, of course. It's part of my destiny. Which reminds me, I've always wanted to ask you about
your
destiny. Red. It's a strange name. Everyone says it's evil. They say you're a witch. Are you?”

Goldie looked eager, like a witch was some exotic animal she'd always wanted to see. I shifted uncomfortably. The honey continued to drip over my fingers and down my arm. Goldie eyed it hungrily. Maybe if I gave it to her, she'd go away. I held out the dripping honeycomb. “Here.”

“Oh, how kind of you.” Goldie took the honeycomb and licked it. “Mmmm! That is so good.” She licked all the honey off her fingers and palms and then ate the comb itself, much like a bear would. “Thank you,” she said. “That was just what I needed.”

I thought she would leave then, but she didn't. She made herself comfortable on a nearby stump and spread her brown shawl around her. This was
my
hive and my honey. I wanted her gone. Now.

“You have to go now,” I said.

“Why?”

“Because of the bees. They might try to sting you again.”

“They're not stinging anymore. Now that you're here.
You
must be a bee charmer. Is that part of your destiny?”

“Yes,” I said. “Now leave, or I'll set the bees on you.”

Goldie's eyes widened, but with interest instead of fear. “Can you do that? Can you make them do what you want?”

“Yes,” I lied. I could do no such thing.

Goldie licked her fingers and stood up. “Show me,” she said. “Make them do something, but don't set them on me. Make them do something else.”

“I'm not going to make them do anything,” I said.

“But you can, can't you?”

I rolled my eyes, then had a stroke of genius. I pointed behind Goldie and feigned terror. “Bear!” I shouted.

Goldie whipped around. “Where?”

“It's coming this way. It wants the honey. Run for your life!”

Goldie shrieked and jumped up. She started to run and, unfortunately, grabbed my hand to tug me along with her. “Faster, Red! It's going to eat us!”

What could I do? I had to run from an imaginary bear.

We ran for a few minutes, then I pulled Goldie to a stop. “It's okay now. I think it went in the other direction.”

She slumped against a tree. “I thought we were going to be
eaten,
” she gasped. “There are so many frightful creatures in The Woods. Yesterday I tried to find The Witch of The Woods, but when I got to her house, there was a wolf! It was wearing a nightdress! Do you think it ate the witch?”

Ah. So this was the chatty girl who had bothered Granny. I didn't really want to draw Goldie into a conversation, but I couldn't help myself. “Maybe. What did you want from the witch?”

Goldie sighed. “A love potion.”

Of course. Goldie had probably fallen in love with some silly boy who didn't like her back, so she ran away from home in search of a love spell. It was a common tale that always ended badly.

“You don't want a love spell,” I told her.

“Of course I do. I
need
it.”

“Magic doesn't always turn out the way you expect.”

“What do you mean?”

I sighed. No one ever considered the consequences.

“If you were to get a love spell, it might work, but it might do other things, too, like make the person you love very sick.” Once, a girl named Nancy gave a love potion to Hans Jacob, and it made him so sick he couldn't even propose, he was so busy retching. Granny gave him an antidote, which made Nancy furious.

“I should love for someone to be lovesick over me,” sighed Goldie.

“Or it could make them extremely ugly.”

Goldie's cheek twitched, but she stuck out her chin and said, “That doesn't matter to me. Mummy says real beauty is on the inside.”

I was not being forceful enough. I needed to think of the worst consequence possible. It came to me quickly. “It could kill the one you love,” I said gravely. “A spell, especially a strong one like a love spell, can be
too
much for someone to endure, and they could die. So could you.”

“Oh,” said Goldie, “yes, that would be terrible.” I thought I had gotten to her at last, but after a moment she perked up. “But there's a risk in everything, isn't there? And I'd risk everything for love. Even death! Wouldn't you?”

I didn't reply. A leaf fluttered in front of me and then swirled away. No, not a leaf. A nymph! I followed it.

“Where are you going?” asked Goldie.

“Nowhere,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on the nymph. It was so close I could see its twiggy legs, the slight fuzz on its leaflike wings, yellow with red tinges on the edges.

“It's a very pretty leaf,” said Goldie. “Red and gold always look so lovely together, don't you think?”

“It's not a leaf,” I said. “It's a nymph.” The nymph landed on a stone covered with moss. I moved silently and hovered over the stone. The nymph opened and closed its wings.

“Great gourds!” shouted Goldie just as I pounced, and the nymph flew away. “Did you see that? It was
alive
! It had legs and eyes!”

“Yes,” I said, grinding my teeth. “I told you, it's a tree nymph.”

“I've never seen one before, or if I have, I always thought it was a leaf. Did you want it for a pet?”

“No. I need its wings.”

“What for?”

“To make a potion.”

“A potion! What kind of potion?”

“One to give boils to people who get on my nerves.” I glared at her.

Goldie screwed up her face. “That doesn't sound as nice as a love potion, but I'll help you catch it.”

“No thank you,” I said, and started walking as quickly as possible. I wound in and out of the trees to try to get rid of Goldie, but all that seemed to accomplish was to confuse my path as it tried to anticipate my movements. Goldie skipped right alongside me. When she got too close to my path, she got a small shock that made her jump and stumble sideways. She batted at the air.

“I think there are still bees following me. Where are we going again?”

“
I
need to catch a tree nymph,” I said, hoping she would get the hint that
we
weren't going anywhere. No such luck.

“Right,” Goldie said in a determined voice. “Nymphs for boils. Oh, look! There's one!” Goldie pointed right behind me.

“That's only a leaf,” I said.

“No! It's right by your head!”

I kept still. I felt wings brushing ever so gently against my cheek, and then the nymph crawled into my hair right by my ear. It made strange little sounds, a series of clicks and soft whistling, like wind through a crack in the door. It was saying something. I strained to understand.

“Don't move,” said Goldie. “I got it. I'm very good at catching grasshoppers.” She crouched, ready to pounce like a cat.

“No. Don't—”

Goldie sprang toward me. My path exuded a blast of air so strong that Goldie's frilly cap blew clean off her head and she tumbled to her rear. But the blast scared off the nymph, too.

Goldie shook herself. “Great gourds, what a wind! That came out of nowhere. Didn't you feel it?”

I clenched my teeth and my fists. It was taking every ounce of my control not to punch Goldie in the nose. I'd punched people for lesser offenses. I spun around and started walking fast, but Goldie ran to keep up with me and chattered away.

“Don't worry. I'm sure we can catch another. We just have to keep trying. Mummy always says you should never give up. Unless, of course, you're doing something
wrong,
in which case you should give up entirely, and it has occurred to me that trying to make a potion to give people boils could be wrong, don't you think?”

“I'm not trying to poison people!” I blurted. “I needed those nymph wings to make a medicine for my granny, who is ill.” I trembled with rage, but Goldie mistook it for sadness.

“Oh, Red.” She reached out and took hold of my hands. “I am
so
sorry. My granny died when I was little, and I cried and cried.”

I tore my hands out of her grasp and folded my arms. The last thing I wanted was for Goldie to think she understood me. “She's not dying,” I said. “And I never cry.”

“Don't worry,” said Goldie. “My mummy always knows what to do in these situations. Maybe your mummy would know what to do?”

As much as I didn't want to take any help or advice from Goldie, she had a point. Mama and Papa would know what to do. If I could find a gnome to take them a message, then they'd come home. They could be back by nightfall.

I ran through the trees so fast my path could barely keep up with me, and I spooked the birds and other creatures, who scattered before me, twittering warnings.

“Message!” I called. “Message!” I shouted as loud as I could into bushes and burrows. These were the most likely places to find gnomes, but like pixies, they had mostly fled The Mountain. They preferred to live near crowds, where they could deliver lots of messages. But there had to be at least one!

“I NEED TO SEND A MESSAGE NOW, YOU STUPID GNOMES!” I stomped my foot and punched a tree, which accomplished nothing, but hurt my hand.

“Are you trying to catch a gnome now? I can help.”

“I don't need help,” I said.

“I'm really good at finding gnomes,” she said.

“Good for you. Message!” I called again.

“Message!” Goldie echoed. “I think we'd do better if we went this way.” She pointed toward the stream.

I nodded. “Go ahead, then,” I said. Goldie skipped ahead, while I turned and quickly went in the other direction.

“Oh, look! I found one!”

I nearly crashed into a tree to stop myself. I whipped around and ran back toward Goldie. “Where?” I asked.

“There!” Goldie pointed toward some tall grass.

“I don't see—”

The grass moved. Then it grunted. A head bobbed above it.

Gnome!

I lunged forward and snatched up the gnome by the scruff of his neck. The gnome immediately started kicking and grunting, which is normal behavior for gnomes until you tell them you want them to send a message. Then they calm down and listen.