Nettle Blackthorn and the Three Wicked Sisters (14 page)

Large
French doors opened up the middle building, with a latticed bay
window on one side where further customers sat at their tables
inside, a few drinking from goblets spilling over with a strange
green mist.

To the
left, was a smaller door lacquered a bright canary yellow, and
propped open with a small sandwich sign stating ‘Beauty Products
and Delightful Confectionary.’ The very right hand door was painted
the same cheerful yellow, with a lemon and cream striped awning
above. A delicious smell of heavenly chocolate wafted through. A
large wooden sign hung from a wrought iron post. Pretty flowers
edged the sign and the name carved into the sandy beech wood read -
Three Wicked Sisters’ Tea House.

“
Is this yours?” Nettle asked, blinking wondrously. She stared
at the stone building, the only one in the village with the two
upper stories also built of stone, with an honest expression
revealing her astonishment and admiration and delight.

Claudine
nodded, pleased with Nettle’s reaction. She linked her arm around
the girl’s. “Come on in and meet my sisters.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
Forgotten Promise

Jazz flatly
refused to believe that the rat was anything else but a rat. “Don’t
be ridiculous, it’s a rat!” she cried, pointing at the creature.
The little brown critter cowered in the centre of the cage, which
Bram had perched on the edge of Jazz’s messy bed.

Bram turned on
his cousin, throwing up his arms. He just could not believe how
thick-headed his cousin could be. “Are you blind? Seriously, Jazz,
do you need glasses?”

“
Of course I don’t need glasses,” spluttered Jazz. She
scowled, her lips pursed into a sneer. “Perhaps you do, you little
idiot.”

Bram gritted his teeth, wiggling his glasses at her in an
obvious manner. Jazz’s scowl faltered. He jabbed a finger at the
cage. “Can’t you see that it’s wearing your earrings as a
breastplate
?
It’s even got an eye-patch! What kind of rat
wears
an
eye-patch?!”

“
How would I know?” Jazz pouted. “It could be someone’s pet?”
She popped her shoulder with attitude. “Some people like to dress
up their pets, you know.”

Bram shook his
head in bafflement. It was no use arguing with Jazz, she was a
blockhead. “At least, now you know, we didn’t take your
earrings.”

Jazz glared at
her little cousin. “How do I know you didn’t steal them and put it
on that thing?”

For the
moment, Jazz had completely forgotten about her hair, until she
absentmindedly raked her hands through her locks, or rather the
stubble that remained after being hacked off by the so called rat.
She pulled at the ragged clumps of hair on her head, with knuckles
clenched into claws. “My hair!! My glorious HAIR!” She rounded on
her younger cousin. “You did this!”

Bram
shook his head in protest. His usual golden complexion drained away
to a pale sickly grey. He gulped, his voice papery thin. “No, it
wasn’t me, honest. It was the-”

“Rats?!”
Jazz near shrieked, finishing off his sentence. “What’s
going on in that empty little head of yours? Are you seriously
hoping to convince me that, that rat,” she jabbed a dangerous
finger at the little creature in the cage, “used its tiny little
paws to cut my hair with a pair of scissors?!” Blotches of scarlet
had stained her cheeks and her nostrils flared. Her feral stare
took on a distant gaze.

Bram shuffled
back a few steps and timidly nodded.

Jazz’s breathing turned ragged. She snorted before
expelling a loud screech,
“AAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEE!!”

Jazz, wild eyed, stalked Bram. Her hands reached out as if
to strangle him. Bram found himself trapped in the corner of his
bedroom. “Come on Jazz, I had nothing to do with it.” He crossed
his arms before him, trying to protect himself.
She wouldn’t hurt me… would
she?
“Jazz..?” he wailed, flinching away from those claw like
fingers. Jazz froze, her fingers inches from Bram’s vulnerable
neck. Bram watched an erratic tick twitch just below her left eye
as she slowly drew back her hands. The furious slash of scarlet
faded from her taut cheeks and her rigid mouth relaxed as she
squeezed her eyes shut.

Bram waited,
breath held.

It was a long,
long moment until Jazz opened her eyes. A strange sort of
expression had entered her gaze. It was like a snake that was
biding its time to strike. A fake smile curled Jazz’s lips and her
voice was calm and sickly sweet. She playfully ruffled the hair on
his head. “You know what, I’m going for a run.”

A shiver ran
down Bram’s spine. This Jazz frightened him far more than the Jazz
that looked set to implode and take him with her.

Jazz strode out the back door dressed in a pair of running
shorts and tee-shirt. She had a bundle of rage to burn off and
wasn’t really thinking where she should run, only that her cousins
were going to pay dearly for what they’d done. Sure Nettle hadn’t
been
witnessed
at the scene of the crime, but she had to be behind
it.
She’s
such a spiteful cow!

Jazz
marched right past her uncle, fast asleep on the swing-chair. She
rolled her eyes. Uncle Fred hadn’t exactly been reliable when it
came to punishing the wrong-doings of his children. He was
completely biased where they were concerned, and this time round
she expected much the same. How her parents thought it was OK to
leave her here, with these idiot relations, she’d never understand.
In fact, her parents decision was bordering on
negligence.

Jazz, lost in
thoughts of revenge and injustice, and how long she thought it was
going to take to grow her hair back to any sort of acceptable
length, moved on autopilot. She started to awkwardly jog through
the tall grass, heading for the path that cut through the forest,
not at all remembering to heed her uncle’s warning. At the edge of
the tree-line she picked up her speed and ran right into the dim
light of the Forgotten Wilds, not hearing her cousin yelling at her
to stop.

Bram hung out his bedroom window bellowing as loud as he
could, “Jazz, stop! Don’t go in there! STOP!” He cupped his hands
around his mouth like a megaphone, hoping to improve his
volume
. “DAD
SAID, NOT TO GO INTO THE WILDS!”

Bram watched his cousin disappear beneath the thick foliage
of the woodland.
Oh well,
he thought, with a little nonchalant shrug and pushed
himself back into Jazz’s bedroom,
I did at least try to stop her.

He
flopped onto the bed, cradled his chin on crossed arms and shrewdly
eyed the little critter in the cage. “Well then, you might as well
tell me your name. I think we both know you’re not a
rat.”

The
creature that Bram was positive wasn’t a rat, glared back at him
with beady black eyes. It didn’t say anything, but it did twitch
its fat lips as if it was on the cusp of replying, when a series of
loud thumping noises came from down the hallway. It sounded like
someone was bounding up the staircase three steps at a
time.

Jazz’s bedroom
door crashed open. Fred, puffy eyed, stomped in. He had crease
marks on one side of his face from sleeping face-down on the
swing-chair and his glasses were perched precariously on his nose.
Dread read all over his father’s expression.

Bram sat
up in panic. “Dad?”

“
I heard you yelling at Jazz. Where has she gone?” Fred’s
words ran into one another, as he always seemed to do when he was
excited, or in this case, frantic.

“
She ran into the Wilds. I tried to stop her. She wasn’t
listening!”

Fred
groaned. Clasping his head between his hands, he crumpled onto the
bed beside his son. “The Wilds?” It was almost a whisper. This time
yelling in frustration. “The Wilds!” He thumped his thigh with a
fist. “Damn it!”

Bram
slid from the bed to his feet. He worriedly glanced out the window
to the foreboding forest wall. “I didn’t tell her to, she just ran
off. I think she’s mad because all her hair got cut
off.”

“What?”
Fred rapidly blinked, shaking his head with confusion. That’s when
he saw the cage and the creature in it. Fred pointed with a
quivering finger, his green eyes flitting wide. “What is that?!”
Then not waiting for an answer, leapt to his feet. “You know what?
That, and you, and whatever you meant about Jazz’s hair, can wait
for later. I’ve got to stop her!”

Fred ran
out of the room. He reappeared a moment later. “Stay here with your
sister, don’t leave or follow me. OK?”

Bram gulped
and nodded. When his father had left, he remembered he’d forgotten
to tell his Dad that Nettle wasn’t here.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Three
Wicked Sisters’ Tea House

Nettle stood
near the entrance to the Three Wicked Sisters’ Tea House, frozen in
wonderment. Inside the tea house there was a gloriously busy hum as
patrons enjoyed each other’s company, delighting in the various
exotic teas and equally inspired savouries and sweet-treats. While
the majority of tables were filled with vacationers, a few near the
bay-window had small gatherings of men and women who had to be part
of the Olde Town experience. Dressed in colourful outfits, they
were enjoying a break from their duties to unwind and catch up with
one another over afternoon tea.

The old
wooden floors were rubbed with oil and stiletto dented. Spider webs
made from crystals and gems hung from the ceiling’s exposed wooden
beams, sending shimmering light about the dining room, and the
whitewashed stone walls were the perfect backdrop for ink sketches
and wrought iron sconces as well as witchcraft paraphernalia such
as broomsticks and wands and vials of brightly coloured
potions.

A
massive black cauldron sat on a bed of hot coals within a stone
fireplace, bubbling and spitting, and a black cat curled up in a
wicker basket on the hearth, purred in contentment. The
intoxicating smell spilling over the rim of the caldron was what
wafted out through the French doors and reached as far as the
cobblestone path. It had brought Nettle and countless other patrons
inside wondering what could make such a delicious smell. She closed
her eyes and drew in the fragrance. It changed from rich dark
chocolate, to honey, to strawberries and cream and Nettle had no
idea how it could be so many distinctive smells all at
once.

“
It’s wonderful,” she whispered in awe to Claudine, who was
enjoying the girl’s reaction. She went over to pat the cat. With
all their travelling, they couldn’t really have pets. Willoughby
was great, but Nettle would have loved to have been able to have a
cat or a dog. Squatting beside the wicker basket, Nettle stroked
the cat’s silky fur coat. “Hey there, kitty,” she cooed.

The cat flinched beneath her touch and
opened one yellow eye to glare
balefully. Nettle went to give the cat a reassuring pat, but it
swiftly leapt to its feet, yowling. It arched, fur hackled, and
spat and hissed, swiping at her with sharp claws. Nettle scrambled
back, caught off guard.

“
Philanx,” scolded Claudine placing herself between Nettle and
the cat. “Whatever is the matter with you?” She shooed the cat
away. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry about that,” apologized Claudine.
“He’s normally such a placid soul,” she added, while thoughtfully
gazing upon the sleek black cat as he skulked out the door, casting
one last malevolent glare Nettle’s way.

“
Oh, not to worry,” replied Nettle casually, though she
couldn’t help but wonder why Philanx had reacted so vehemently
toward her. Animals usually adored her.

Claudine led her through the throng of tables to the
archway separating the dining room from the small side business.
Nettle couldn’t help noticing the other members of Olde Town stop
talking amongst themselves to stare with blatant curiosity at
herself and Claudine as they passed by. She tried hard not to
smile.
I
could get used to this.

The staff
industriously flitted around the dining room, ferrying unusually
crafted delicacies and old fashioned tea pots on large silver
trays, to their customers. One whisked by with porcelain tea pot
and a pyramid of blood-red sandwiches. Her sleek hazel eyes quickly
met Nettle’s gaze before darting away. She was short with a mop of
curly brown hair and a dusky complexion with a scattering of
freckles across a button nose. Nettle took an instant liking to the
waitress. She looked like she might be a few years older than Jazz,
and gave her hope there were more kids about the village. She
wondered if she might even find some kind of part-time work here
after school hours.

In keeping with Claudine’s attire, the staff wore long
black aprons and white blouses with tight bodices and ruffled
sleeves. Another waitress darted past and Nettle did a
double-take.
Huh?
She quickly searched the dining room, assessing all the
waitresses and waiters.

At first, Nettle thought she was seeing double, then
triple. She couldn’t help but come to the conclusion all the
serving staff were siblings.
But they seemed to be the same age, which would
mean they were quadruplets?!
No, quintuplets!,
she corrected, seeing a fifth staff member
scoot over to a table of five ladies with a jug of water.
No, not
quintuplets,
she thought gaping at the girl behind the counter in the
annex beside the dining room, and mentally rounded the
sibling-count up to
sextuplets
.