was weirdly shiny, you could see the faint shapes of scales in it, and her face seemed long and stretched, her eyes pulled back to the sides of her head, but nobody else took any notice of these changes. They simply stepped around her and carried on with their business.
One day Willa entered the house, stepped around the chandelier and promptly tripped over a large creature lying on the floor. Willa put her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream as she scrambled away from it. She sat for a moment, her back against the wall, staring at it in horror. It was about the size and length of a cow, but it was covered in scales and tapered to a long tail. Its head was tucked out of sight, and its body rose and fell gently as it slept on. Willa took a deep breath and stood on shaky legs. She tiptoed to the foot of the stairs and leaned over until she could see the creature’s face. With a start she realized it was Miss Trang.
Miss Trang’s face had stretched into a long snout, though her grey hair remained, still pulled into a bun at the back of her head. Hibernation had left her in semi-dragon, semi-human form. Willa found it creepy, but Horace said it was perfectly normal.
“Hibernation. Standard reptilian behaviour, nothing to be worried about. Happens every winter,” he assured her.
Thankfully, Miss Trang wasn’t full dragon size, but she was still as big as a sofa and formed a significant obstacle in the hall. The dwarves worked as a team to shift her closer to the wall so that Belle could get her wheelchair around her to enter the parlour. Everyone else walked around or clambered over her. Nothing, not even being stepped on, disturbed her sleep, and soon Miss Trang’s inert figure on the floor became as familiar as a piece of furniture.
Chapter Four
Wintry shenanigans
The snow continued to fall, despite Horace’s hand-wringing and embarrassment. As the town got used to the weather, people emerged from their houses to enjoy it, especially the neighbourhood kids. Tengu joined them, organizing the children into two armies, with fortifications and a large snowball arsenal.
Over the next week, Tengu tumbled in at dinner time soaked and frozen — feet numb, snow down his neck, his ears and nose red, and his eyes bright. The more he played with the kids, the younger he seemed to be. He’ d sit on the comatose Miss Trang while Willa pulled his boots off, and entertain her with lively stories of the day’s exploits.
“They call me the General,” he told Willa proudly.
On Christmas Eve, after a big dinner, the dwarves served up eggnog and hot toddies in the parlour. Simple holly garlands were strung everywhere; they were even draped over the snoozing form of Miss Trang in the hallway, and a string of lights ran over her shoulders and across her snout. Willa was nervous about what she might think if she woke up, but she showed no signs of doing so.
Lit by the fire and candlelight, good cheer prevailed. Horace sang in his quavery voice about desert sands. Tengu shared some haiku he’d written. Mab floated in the middle of the room and sang a song of knights and ladies and courtly love. Emboldened by the rum toddies, Robert performed a soft-shoe dance routine, during which only one small end table was crushed. Baz didn’t usually go in for performing, but tonight she climbed up on the back of the sofa, stood on one foot, and balanced three cups and saucers on her nose. The fact that they then fell and smashed only added to the fun. The dwarves took turns reciting stanzas of a very long and gruesome epic poem about warriors dismembering monsters and vice versa.
As the candles burned low, Belle ended the evening with a song, during which the whole group fell into a contented silence. The song was quite long, but the next day Willa could not for the life of her remember what it was about. She suspected Belle had put them into a trance.
As she walked home that gorgeously dark wintry night, Willa knew her mom and dad would have enjoyed the gathering, if they hadn’t declined the invitation. Just as Belle would have turned down an invitation to Christmas dinner at Willa’s house the next night, if Willa’s mom hadn’t already vetoed the very idea of inviting her. Belle and Mom would not forgive and forget, and get over their history.
At least Grandpa was there. Willa had always felt close to her grandpa, ever since she was a little girl spending blissful summers with him at the seashore. The sight of his sunbaked face, his bright blue eyes, and unruly mass of white hair brightened even her darkest day. As Willa and her parents laughed at Grandpa’s stories over dinner, Willa reflected that she had, in effect, two warm, loving families, and that just made her feel lucky. Not only that, but as she watched her mom giving Grandpa a goodnight hug at the front door, she had a sudden flash of understanding about Mom’s resentment toward Belle. Didn’t Belle break up what close family she had, while Mom was just little? How would she herself feel if her mom just disappeared for no reason, leaving her and Dad on their own?
One day in early January, as Willa was scattering salt on the sidewalk to keep it from freezing over, Mrs. Norton came along, skittering a baby carriage over the bumpy ice. The Nortons had recently moved into a house across the street and a few doors down, and Willa knew they had a houseful of kids, from baby Everett all the way up to high school age. Mrs. Norton was a small woman with dishevelled hair and kindly, tired eyes. Willa had often helped her carry groceries into the house or round up her kids if she saw she was having trouble. Now Willa stepped up to help her steer the carriage on the ice. Inside, the baby gurgled happily.
“He’s so smiley and quiet,” said Willa as little Everett grinned up at her.
“Sure he is, now!” sighed Mrs. Norton. “But as soon as we get in the house he starts to fuss. And I’ve got all the laundry to do today!”
“If you like, I could look after him while you do your work,” suggested Willa.
Mrs. Norton brightened at the thought. “You babysit?”
Willa glanced back at Eldritch Manor. “Yes, I do,” she answered with a grin. “I’ve got lots of experience, though not with babies, exactly.”
“Everett’s very easy, apart from the fussing. He just gets restless and needs to be entertained. His brothers and sisters used to take turns minding him for me but they’re all so busy lately…. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all! It’s no problem. I’m here every day after school. Just bring him over whenever you need a break.”
Mrs. Norton beamed. “Oh, Willa, you’re a godsend! Thank you!” She handed over the diaper bag. “I’ll come for him in a couple of hours!” she called over her shoulder as she hurried away.
Willa pushed Everett up and down the street for a while and then took him inside to warm up. As they entered the parlour, Mab looked up from her knitting.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Little Everett from down the street.”
Mab flew closer to get a better look. This made Willa nervous. “Are you sure it’s okay to let him see you?”
“Babies always see fairies,” answered Mab. “We like to visit very wee humans. When they get older, they forget all about us.”
Everett’s eyes went wide as saucers at the sight of her, and before she could react, his pudgy fist shot out and grabbed her.
“Everett, no! Let go!” exclaimed Willa. Mab gave him a sharp little zap. He flinched and opened his hand, though
