Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The manor house was a three-floor Tudor-ish abode with tall, narrow paned windows. It had been built from stone and heavy timbers, no doubt provided by the local scenery, and age and weather had dulled the colors. Vines crept up its walls and covered more than half the home in a twisted mess of dead and living plants. A solitary light shone through one of those windows on the bottom floor and to the left.

Nobody was about and the area was as quiet as a grave, and yet the gates swung inward. They groaned on their rusted hinges and even Ferox hesitated to enter. A light crack of the reins urged him forward and he trotted through the gates. His hoofs were the only sound as we approached the imperious home.

The short driveway wound its way to a circular clearing where I noticed a small stable hidden on the left and somewhat swallowed by the forest that surrounded us. Ferox parked the carriage a few yards from the front door, but pawed the ground and tossed his head back. Tully hopped down and soothed both horses with an apple while Ben climbed out. He helped me down and I twisted my head around to study the trees that bordered every inch of the driveway.

I couldn't speak above more than a hushed whisper. "Are we in the Werewald?"

"Only half a mile into its depths," he assured me as Tully began to unload the luggage. "

Something creaked, and I spun around in time to watch the large, heavy wooden front door swing open. The flickering light of a small candle was cast onto the ground and hardly reached past the stone step that acted as a porch. The light illuminated a small, slightly hunched figure that framed the doorway. A soft and crackly voice emanated from the person.

"About time, you rascal! Were you trying to give me a heart attack with worry?"

A crooked smile slipped onto Ben's lips as he took my hand and guided me over to the door. "Good evening, Aunt Dreda."

I whipped my face around so my bulging eyes stared at him. "Dreda?"

The woman huffed. "And what's wrong with that? Nothing foreboding about the name Etheldreda, is there?"

I shrugged. "I-I guess I just didn't, um, I thought your name was Prudence."

"That's my first name. I don't go by that one. Too stuffy. Now then-" She stepped back and allowed some light from the hall to fall on us. "Come in out of that damp air. It's worse tonight than it has been in two moons."

Ben gave my hand a squeeze before he led me inside. The front hall was comfortable if filled with enough antiques to start a museum. Stuffed animals covered the darkly paneled walls and wardrobes, closet doors, and tables of all sizes finished the job. Little trinkets of hairbrushes, books, jewelry boxes, and the like were scattered about their tops. A light layer of dust covered most everything that hadn't been touched for a spell while others were perfectly clean, creating a story of care and usage.

The decorations and bobbles nearly hid the wide stairs that led up to the second floor where a balcony overlooked the hall. The upper corridor, situated as it was in the center, ran the full length of the house and doors lined the wall that faced us.

A door on either side of the entrance hall led into the bottom portions of the separate wings. The light I had seen through the window was a candelabra situated on the central table in a refined but cozy parlor. The flickering candles allowed me to get a good look at our hostess.

Prudence Etheldreda Rookwood was a hair above five feet tall with gray hair tied tightly in a bun behind her head. Her face was covered in wrinkles, but beneath that exterior, I could see the beauty she had held in years long past. She wore a slimming black dress with lace on the cuffs of her long sleeves. Soft slippers covered her feet and she had only a small sapphire-adorned ring on her right hand.

Aunt Dreda moved as noiselessly a shadow in the night as she guided us into the parlor. Even her dress hardly made a sound. She stopped before the cold hearth opposite the entrance and set her candle on the mantel before she turned to us and gestured to the couch. "Now sit and tell me about the trip."

Ben seated us on the couch and shook his head at his aunt. "There's nothing to tell, Aunt. The trip was uneventful."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Not a sign of an errant shadow or an unusual creak of the trees?"

Ben's eyes took on a sharp glint. "Should there have been?"

Dreda sighed and- lifted her chin a little. "I have not invited you here merely for a social visit. There's something amiss in the woods, and I thought with your penchant for trouble you might be uniquely suited to finding out what it is."

I hung my head. Just our luck. . .

"What sort of trouble?" Ben questioned her.

She wrinkled her nose. "If I knew that I could have taken care of it myself. As things stand, I know only that there's an ill scent in the wind and the trees groan with greater enthusiasm than is their wont."

I lifted an eyebrow. "They groan that often?"

"Old trees complain almost as much as old women," Dreda mused as Tully walked into the hall with his arms full of our luggage. A slight draft drifted into the room and made her shiver. "Blast these cold nights." She half-turned to the fire and snapped her fingers. My mouth dropped open as a fire burst out of the cold ashes. "There. Much warmer, and much livelier." She returned her attention back to us and a small smile graced her lips. "But enough about the troubles. Those are better talked about in the light of day. Whatever plans you have, I expect you young ones to take some time to frolic about the halls and make as much noise as possible. These old walls could use a tremble of life in them."

Ben chuckled. "I don't know about the frolicking, but we'll try to liven up the old place with our presence starting with a lively conversation over dinner."

"Oh, yes. That should be ready any time now." Dreda clapped her hands and raised her voice to a feverish pitch. "Fysan! Fysan!" She dropped her hands and waited a moment, all the while her eyebrows slowly dropped to a sharp point. "Where is that foolish bird brain? Fysan!"

A shadowy figure flew out of the doorway at the back of the room and glided over to a huge bust of a stoic figure situated on a podium. The soft light from the fireplace cast deep shadows over the creature's form, and I found myself staring at a huge owl. The gray-speckled feathered fiend stood about four feet tall with huge black eyebrows that curved upward a half a foot above its face. Its huge talons clutched onto the face of the bust, and the scratch marks in the stone told the story of the power behind those nails. A curved beak finished off its terrifying features and the bone glistened like a sharp blade in the flickering light.

The new arrival stretched out its huge wings before pinning them to its sides. "You know I have a difficult time flying through these crowded halls, My Lady. If you would just put some of the items into storage-"

"And ruin the ambiance of spirit energy?" she countered with an aghast expression. "I would rather cut my hair than do such a thing!"

The owl sighed and hung its head a little. "Very well, My Lady, but might I ask that you ring the cord rather than strain your lungs when you need me?"

"Nonsense. My throat needs a strain or two every now and again," Dreda insisted as she gestured to us. "Now about what I called you for. Has the meal been prepared?"

"To Your Ladyship's specifications."

Dreda crossed her arms over her chest and leaned toward the bird to eye him with a sharp look. "You didn't put any mice into the dishes again, did you?"

Fysan puffed out his chest. "Would I do such a thing, My Lady?"

"You did last week," she scolded him.

The owl wrinkled his beak. "Yes, well, one must add a speck of flavor some time instead of those horrible plants. And meat is very healthy for you, My Lady. It builds up muscle."

"I would rather not dine on mice just so I might end up looking like Werd," she scolded him with a wag of her finger. "Now then, is the meal ready?"

He bowed his head. "Ready and waiting."

"As is the trunks on the carriage," Ben spoke up as he stood. "I should go help Tully."

Dreda swooped in and captured one of his arms in her grasp. "Nonsense. Werd is quite capable of assisting Tully, and they shall have so much to talk about when they are finished." Ben looked comical as he tried to suppress his desire to remind his elderly aunt that Tully couldn't speak. She stooped and grabbed one of my arms, and she pulled me off the couch with more strength than I expected in those thin limbs. "Now let us go dine and enjoy one another's company."