Goblins and Snowflakes

Chapter 8: Come Buy

I spent the next hour lingering over pastries and listening to Laura’s and Lizzie’s stories. Feeling confident that their workload was well in hand, I thought it best to head back home before my father arrived. I helped the sisters clear up our breakfast then stopped by the gnomes once more.

“So, Master Boatswain is a wizard, eh? He talked me into enchanting you. Hagstones for hearts. Now, don’t be coy with me. Show me something,” I whispered to the gnomes.

They didn’t move, but I felt their laughter hiding behind their eyes.

Either that or I was going mad.

“Almost time to open the shop,” Lizzie said.

I nodded. “I’ll go back to Strawberry Hill. Now, is there anything else you need? Can I do anything for you?” I asked.

The sisters shook their heads. “No, my dear, oh no. You’ve already done so much.”

“You know, it really wasn’t me,” I said once again, making both sisters chuckle.

“Yes, Scarlette, so you’ve told us,” Laura said then helped me on with my cape. “It was the gnomes.”

“Yes, the gnomes,” Lizzie added with a laugh.

“Just be sure to wind the clockwork gnome tonight.”

“Wind him up tonight?” Laura asked, and this time, she eyed me closely.

I nodded. “Can’t have his spirit running down. I know you don’t believe me, but promise me that you’ll wind him.”

“All right,” Laura consented.

I kissed the sisters on their cheeks. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

“And to you, Scarlette. Christmas greetings to Earl Walpole,” Lizzie said.

“And to young Master Boatswain,” Laura added with a wink.

Giggling, I headed back outside. I pulled up my hood then breathed in the crisp winter air. There was a merry feeling all around. A sleigh drove past, the horse’s tail and main trimmed with jingle bells. In the church at the village square, the choir practiced The First Noel. A street vendor was selling honey-roasted almonds. Two children rushed from his stand, clutching parchment paper filled with the roasted confections. I caught the toasty scent of the almonds on the wind. There was another stall near the nut vendor selling mulled wine. It was far too early to drink, but I picked up the hint of the spices used to herb the wine on the wind. I spotted other small stands selling Christmas cookies, hot cakes, and other sweets. Twickenham’s center square was a bustling Christmas market. Everyone was out. Part of me hated to miss the festivities, but the other part of me was dying to return to Strawberry Hill. I had questions, lots of them, for Master Boatswain, Senior.

I turned and headed down the road. As I walked, I considered the gnomes. My mind was at war. There was no such thing as magic. But if there was no such thing as magic, how had all that work been achieved? Who had done it? Certainly, the sisters had not. And neither had I. And who had moved the gnomes? The little conductor seemed to motion to me but wouldn’t offer any proof of life. But still. He had a heart. I knew it. I had placed the heart within him.

“Miss Rossetti?” a voice called, startling me from my thoughts.

I looked up to find Annabeth walking toward me.

“Missus Buckingham! How are you?”

“I’m wonderful. Oh, Miss Rossetti, I’ve just come from Strawberry Hill. They’ve given me a position. I start on Boxing Day. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“That’s such great news. Congratulations.”

“Thanks to you, Miss Rossetti. Thank you so, so much.”

I smiled happily. “It was nothing.”

“I need to go home and tell the children. What happy news.”

“Give them all a hug for me.”

“I will, and thank you again,” she said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze.

We parted then. I looked ahead of me. The woods were not far away.

“Annabeth,” I called back to her. “Are the merchants still camped in the woods?”

“Merchants? No. I didn’t see anyone.”

“Oh. All right. Happy Christmas Eve.”

“And to you, miss,” she called then went on her way.

I smiled, my heart brimming with joy at Annabeth’s news. I hurried along the path. I was midway through the woods when I slowed. Despite Annabeth’s words, there, deep in the forest, were the merchants. Smoke rose from their fire, and I could hear odd instruments playing, the notes strange and discordant.

“Come buy, Miss Rossetti,” a voice called from behind me.

I froze.

My skin chilled to goosebumps.

“Leave me alone,” I said, looking over my shoulder. But when I did so, no one was there.

Frowning, I turned back only to find the little man who had sold me the hagstones standing in front of me.

“You don’t want to buy?”

“No. Now, move aside.”

“But Miss Rossetti, didn’t you like the stones? Didn’t they work the way you wanted? Merry little chaps. We espied them through the window. All night long, they worked and worked, singing and working gleefully. Such sweet little creatures. They worked the whole night through until their little leader wound down to sleep.”

I stared at the man. “W-what?”

“I told you, we sell the things a person wants, the things a person needs.”

“Enough. Move aside,” I said then moved to step around him.

Effortlessly, he blocked me. “Won’t you buy again?”

“Leave me in peace or next time, I’ll be back with the constable and a pistol.”

“But we thought you might like to buy this,” he said, his gloved hand outstretched.

His fingers were so long, too long, the hand looking deformed. There, in his palm, lay a windup key.

But not any windup key.

It was the key to my gnome. I recognized the engraving on the handle.

“Where did you get that?” I whispered.

“Oh, you see, we watched and watched. Funny little men. And when they slept, we took the key. Sadly, he will not be able to wake—or wake his friends—without it,” the merchant said, closing his hand around the windup.

“You stole it,” I said, my voice full of venom.

“Yes,” he answered with a dark hiss. “Yes, we did. And now you will buy it back.”

“No, you will give it back. Now,” I said, sticking out my hand. I moved closer to the man.

The wind blew, making the man’s hood flutter. In that single moment, I caught a glimpse of his face: yellow eyes, greenish, molted skin, and odd veins that were close to the surface. His face was…inhuman.

“No, Miss Rossetti. Now, you will buy,” he said, his voice dark.

My heart thumped hard in my chest.

“You will buy. Or we will watch, and watch, and watch you until you cannot help but buy. We will make you buy.”

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice a soft whisper.

“A book.”

“A book?”

He nodded. “My master wants a book from the library,” he said, pointing one of his long fingers toward Strawberry Hill. “You will bring us the book. Tonight. Then we will give you your key and be on our way.”

“What kind of book?”

“You don’t need to know what kind of book,” he spat, glaring at me, his eyes flashing.

He dipped into his pocket and pulled out a yellowed paper. He handed it to me.

I steeled my nerve and took the slip. On it was written words I couldn’t read in a language I didn’t recognize.

“You will find this book and bring it to my master tonight. And if you do not, we will make you buy. Perhaps Miss Annabeth will pass through the forest again. We watched her close, you know. We saw her, but she didn’t see us. We see many who pass. Young Boatswain. Mistress Quickly. We see them, but they do not see us. We will make you buy, Miss Rossetti. Do you understand?”

I did. The merchant—the creature—had lured me into a trap. I knew deep in my heart I shouldn’t have taken those stones. But I had. I had, and now I had to comply, or they would find someone to hurt.

The little man laughed again, a terrible hissing sound. “By midnight,” he said then turned and walked away. He passed a tall timber. I expected him to reappear on the other side, but he was gone. And along with him, the tents vanished from sight. Only a puff of smoke twisting upward through the leafless trees remained.

I remembered Mistress Quickly’s words. They seemed to be gone.

Seemed was right.

Because even though I couldn’t see them, I could feel their yellow eyes on me. Watching and waiting.