The fluorescent light directly above Nellie’s table flickered. It kept up a continuous, high pitched hum that none of the faculty appeared to hear. The students were aware, leaving that lunch table vacant except for her.
Sitting alone was nothing usual since returning to school after her disastrous first day. The newness of her had worn off, now she was simply the weird girl, but not in the way she had been in Sunrise. No one believed her stories of cryptids there either, but people generally found the tales amusing enough to sit with her at lunch.
She glared at the light as it flickered again. The school would have to replace it if it broke. She bet she could break it sneakily if she had magic.
“Hey, Perenelle,” a girl’s accusatory voice said, breaking Nellie from her thoughts.
Four girls stood in front of her with their trays holding the sad remains of lunch. She had multiple classes with each one of them, and homeroom with at least two. She was sure they were called Emma, Ava, Sophia, and Olivia, but she could not say which was which.
“Yes,” Nellie asked innocently.
“Who was that college guy that picked you up yesterday,” the one she thought was Olivia asked.
“You mean Ira,” Nellie said. “He’s not a college student. He’s… visiting.”
“OMG, you know him,” the possible Emma gushed. “He’s got me so weak!”
“Wait, visiting,” the maybe Olivia asked. “From Florida or…?” She gasped. “Does he have a British accent? Is he British?”
“OMG, I can’t,” the possible Emma swooned.
“Please tell me he’s picking you up today,” the suspected Sophia said. “I’m a car rider today just to get a look.”
“He might be,” Nellie said, unsure. “Said something about going into Lynchburg, but he may’ve done that already.”
“Oh, I can’t wait,” the possible Emma said, bouncing with delight, her milk carton toppling. “We’ll meet you at the car rider awning after school!”
“See you in art class,” the presumed Ava said as the four of them headed off to buss their trays.
She gave a small, awkward wave at their retreating forms. All it took to break the strained silence between her and her classmates was an attractive, older boy popping into her life.
The rest of her school day was as uneventful as all the others, with the only thing of note being Ava (the art teacher being neurotic about role call had one benefit) sitting next to her. Nellie made a mental note that Ava wore glasses to help separate her out from the other three. She made her way to her locker to don her coat after the final bell, and shuffled with the rest of the car riders. The three girls that were positively not Ava sidled up to her, rocking up on their toes.
“Poor Ava,” the suspected Sophia sighed. “Both her parents work so late.”
“We should do this tomorrow too,” the possible Emma said. “I can have my mom pick her up. It’s not fair she doesn’t get a look.”
Nellie forced her mouth to stay straight, to suppress the laugh trying to get out. She hoped it was Ira picking her up. She could not wait to see the look on his face when he spotted the gaggle of pre-teens. There was a chance he did not notice. He probably got such attention all the time and was oblivious to it. She hoped not.
She exhaled when she spotted Nathalie’s car and made out enough through the distance and tint to know it was not Nathalie driving. Her face grew hot at the embarrassment squirming in her stomach. Somehow, somewhere, the amusement had crossed into her needing Ira to show up, him needing to arrive to make the three excited girls beam at her as if she had personally fulfilled some wish. She hurried towards the car.
“Bye, Perenelle,” one of them called. “See you tomorrow!”
She gave a quick wave and threw herself into the front seat, tossing her bag into the bag. She gave a strained smile and waved as the car moved forward.
“Friends of yours,” Ira asked, politely giving a small wave of acknowledgement.
“I don’t think so,” Nellie mumbled. She watched the trees zip by. “Can people like us make friends?”
“Of course,” Ira said. “Even villains can make friends. Why shouldn’t you?” He glanced at her. “You know, Nellie, they could be shy too. Not outwardly, but inside. You are new to this area, and you stand out with the vast differences you have from others via Nathalie, me, your academic performance–I suspect given what Nathalie has told me of the school she hopes to send you to–these girls could very much want to be friends with you, but have been unsure how to approach. Just be open to it.”
“Are you speaking from experience,” Nellie asked.
“No,” Ira said. He smiled wryly. “Guys are different.” He turned into the long, wooded driveway. “Plus, I was privately schooled. Cecily was my only friend for the longest time.”
Ira’s stature shrank at the mention of his gryphon. Nellie gave his shoulder a pat.
“We’ll find her,” Nellie said resolutely. “Did you go down to the coffee shop and ask the old people?”
“Unfortunately, I offered to run errands for Ms. Herle so she could further her progress on her statue,” Ira said.
The larger of the two outbuildings, the one that may have been a small barn at one point, had flashes of bright, white and yellow light flashing from between the decrypted boards. The sharp sounds of sparks meeting metal could be heard even from inside the car. Nathalie had been hard at work since her equipment arrived, despite the studio being nowhere ready. Several long extension cords ran from the outlets on the outside of the house with another snaking through a cracked window.
“Don't let her bully you into errands tomorrow,” Nellie said. “You need to go ask around before the shop closes.” She smiled impishly. “You know… they do already know me there….”
“No, Nellie, you aren't skiving,” Ira said flatly.
Nellie eased from the car and went directly to Ash’s outbuilding. It must have been awful for Ira to not know where Cecily was, especially since they had been separated by something dangerous. She suspected what the creature was, but needed to pry more stories out of the old folks to be certain. Ira would have to let her skip tomorrow.
She strained her ears and frowned at the lack of sounds coming from Ash’s house. She found the door slightly ajar. Her stomach plummeted.
“Ash,” Nellie called. “Ash, here boy!”
There were no sounds from the woods, nothing that indicated Ash was near. She ran to the workshop, throwing herself inside.
Nathalie pulled her hood up. “What’s wrong,” she asked. “You look–.”
“Ash is gone,” Nelle blurted out. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Th-the door was open, and he’s not there, and he isn’t coming when I call him.”
“He’s fine,” Nathalie said with a grimace. “I let him in the house.” She nodded her hood back over her face. “He seemed chilly. I’ll have to get electricity put in that building too so that we can buy him a heater.”
Nellie rushed over and hugged Nathalie tightly, cringing at the welding smells clinging to her. She pulled back and ran to the house.
Ash was lying between the couch and coffee table with mounds of a dissected pillow tossed all about. He was pinning down the outer remains of the pillow–an ugly, holiday themed one that had been a gift from before Nellie’s time, no loss–and pulling the threads with a satisfying rip. The pillow dangled from his jaws as he set his red eyes upon Nellie. He slowly, gracefully rose, spit the pillow out with a lash of his tongue, and sauntered over to nose her outstretched hands.
“Oh, Ash,” Nellie said, sucking in a sob. She fought the urge to throw her arms around his neck and squeeze him, settling for petting his head. “You want some dinner? That pillow couldn’t have been satisfying.”
She shut Ash back in the house, jumping the shallow front steps. The trees already darkened the clearing to make it look like night, highlighting the lack of sparks from Nathalie’s workshop and the fact that the Crown Victoria was off. She could hear murmuring with inaudible words echoing off the trees as Ira and Nathalie talked. She fetched Ash’s bowl and food from a heavily sealed container in his shed.
Nathalie and Ira were still muttering as she made her way back to the house. She watched Ash attack his food, peering through the blinds as the minutes dragged on without movement from the workshop. It was too dark for Nathalie to continue working safely, too cold to linger outdoors.
She re-bundled in her coat. “Be right back, Ash,” she said in a half-whisper.
The voices grew clearer the nearer she crept to the outbuilding.
“--admission into Webb,” Nathalie hissed angrily. “She can’t miss school whenever it takes her fancy.”
“With respect, ma’am, you speak of her being a normal girl, but are trying to enroll her in a boarding school of some note,” Ira said stiffly.
“Giving her whatever help I can on her road to adulthood is part of raising her,” Nathalie said. “A proper school will be a positive.”
“Ms. Herle, I cannot stay in this area forever,” Ira said. “I plan on leaving as soon as I find Cecily, and I believe Nellie can help me find her more quickly.”
“By skipping school tomorrow,” Nathalie said coolly. “And if tomorrow yields nothing, perhaps the next day? The next week? Is this not just the foot in the door to asking to take her away when her questions grow?”
Nellie jumped, kicking the wall as Ash let loose a long, annoyed howl. There was not time for her to run back to the house, or retreat in any manner. Nathalie and Ira stepped outside.
“I was… just coming to get you,” Nellie said. “What’s for dinner? It’s creeping past four.” She squinted at them in the dark. “Seems later with all these trees and winter, doesn’t it?”
Nathalie turned to Ira. “Are you staying for dinner, or shall I drop you at the school so you can call a rideshare?”
“Why doesn’t he just stay over tonight,” Nellie suggested. “He can take me to school tomorrow morning so you can get to work early.”
“You can’t miss school,” Ira said dully. “We can search for Cecily on the weekend if I find no leads beforehand.”
“No,” Nellie said. “No, it’s been too long already! The cryptid you ran into was dangerous. Cecily could be hurt! Or….” She bit her lip.
“Stay for dinner, sir,” Nathalie said, her tone exhausted. “I’ll drive you to your hotel after Nellie is asleep. We can continue our conversation in private that way.”
They shuffled back to the house. Ash immediately knocked them over as he burst through the door upon its opening. They picked themselves up with groans–Nathalie with muttered swears–and piled into the warmth of the house. Nellie went off to the room to do her homework.
She wrenched open her window, shivering at the gust of wind that cut through the screen. Ash was near enough his snuffling and feet crunching the gravel was audible. She wrapped an orange polka-dotted blanket around herself, and settled down with her pile of homework. She quickly lost interest in the math formals she had learned a year earlier and finding mistakes in a page of text she would have been handed in fifth grade, and pulled out her notes from the coffee shop.
The cryptid Ira and Cecily ran into had to be a white screamer. Elderly Mr. Notte told her it was a common story in White Bluff, and that he had heard it as a young boy. He said the most prevalent belief was that the screamer had died seventy years ago, around the time Mr. Notte heard it.
She perked up as Ash howled. Smoke wolves were supposed to only be found in the Appalachian area according to the stories, east of where they were by hundreds of miles.
“Migration,” Nellie murmured. She scrambled for her homework as a knock came on her door. “Y-yes?”
Ira stuck his head in. “Dinner.” His blue eyes went from her messy pile of homework to the single notepad page she inadvertently tried to cover up. “Is that your list from the coffee shop?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure you ran into a white screamer,” Nellie said, handing the list to Ira. “There aren't any stories in this area that I saw though. All of them are from west of here. Mr. Notte, who told me about it, lived in White Bluff when he was small. He said it was a common enough thing to hear and tell stories about over there, but he thinks it died since people stopped hearing it.”
“The one he heard likely did die,” Ira said, “but rarely do creatures exist as a singular.”
“Do cryptids migrate,” Nellie asked.
“Yes, and with more frequency the more human civilization advances,” Ira said. “Exactly how other animals move out of a field when it’s turned into housing.” He handed the list back. “That’s enough for tonight however. Dinner will get cold if we continue.” He smiled softly. “And I suspect we would quickly lose track of time on this subject.”
They crowded around the kitchen counter–the table still piled with clutter from half-unpacked boxes–to a dinner composed of cut up chicken breasts in a from-a-box mushroom sauce, perfectly steamed spinach, and from-a-can candied yams. The silence between them was interrupted by Nellie fetching Ash from outside, him threatening to scratch a hole in the door if she was not fast enough.
Nathalie frowned as Ash started tearing another decorative pillow. “I believe I’ll make some St. Valentine’s decorations tomorrow. The sooner we get that beast’s house set up the better.”
“What about your studio,” Nellie asked. She held up an extension cord.
“I do need electricity out there,” Nathalie mused. She sighed heavily. “There is so much work to be done on this property. I’ll have to take stock of what I have in storage; see what I can list for sale.” She smiled. “But enough of that. Was school more tolerable today?”
“She had a crowd of girls with her today,” Ira said before Nellie could answer dismissively.
“Really,” Nathalie said, smiling widely. “That’s great! Do you share many classes?”
“They wanted to get a better look at Ira,” Nellie said blandly. She pushed her yams around with a sly smile. “They’d think you a prince if they heard how posh your accent is. Actually… you do have royal blood, don’t you? Isn’t that why Uncle Winston was so gaga?” She set her fork down. “Wait…,” she looked at Nathalie, “even you called him ‘sir’.... Do you have a title? No way you do… right?”
Ira’s cheeks tinted pink as he daintily stuck a piece of chicken with his fork. His bearing was graceful and strong despite his uncombed hair and acid washed, AC/DC shirt.
“Did you finish your schoolwork before Ira called you to dinner,” Nathalie asked.
Nellie mumbled under her breath about starting it and allowed the conversation to die off. The rest of dinner stayed quiet, and Nellie excused herself to her room as soon as she finished. She forced herself to work on her schoolwork, the dullness of it combined with her full stomach caused her eyelids to droop.
Her body grew cold. She shivered, raising her head and wiping the dribble of drool off her mouth. She slid her window shut, yawning, and looked at her phone. It was nearing 11PM.
“Are you certain my sleeping here is all right,” came Ira’s voice from the other side of the door.
“Don’t shun hospitality,” Nathalie said. The linen closet outside Nellie’s bedroom shut. “She’ll be thrilled to skip tomorrow.”
“I greatly appreciate it, Ms. Herle,” Ira said. “I’m trying to not show how worried I am for Cecily, but… I don’t know what I’d do if she was killed.”
Nellie crept to her door as their voices moved to the living room. She timed cracking her door with the creaking floorboards near the couch, pressing her ear to it.
“She is much more likely to open up to you,” Nathalie said. “There is still strain between us on top of my inability to understand this whole– How did you describe it? Sensitivity?”
It had been more difficult to talk to Nathalie since the move to Tennessee. The exhaustion of the move, the trying to settle into the new, all was compounded with the discovery of their true relationship. There had been no time to settle or reflect on any of it, all quiet moments co-opted by the school’s overreaction to her questions, Uncle Winston’s visit, and Ira appearing.
“Her uncle,” Nathalie said, re-catching Nellie’s attention, “are you familiar with him at all?”
“I am,” Ira said.
“Rhys told me he was dangerous,” Nathalie said, her voice dropping. “Nellie is with me because he was adamant that he not get his hands on her.”
“And you ask me to clarify this claim,” Ira asked.
Ash chose that moment to howl; the sound of Ira and Nathalie jumping from their skins–coving Nellie doing the same–and Nathalie cursing out the wolf ending the conversation. Nellie leapt into her bed, yanking the covers around herself as Nathalie pushed open her door to let Ash in, hissing at him to keep quiet. Nathalie’s bedroom door shut seconds later.
“Ash,” Nellie whispered, annoyed. “You need to work on your timing.”
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This one is slightly shorter since the day ended and I figured I'd just start the next with the new day. The four girls' names are the four most popular girl baby names in Tennessee in 2012.
A white screamer (screamer, comes from White Bluff, TN I just added part of the town name to it since Nellie isn't from the area) is a horrific story where people in White Bluff, specifically a family, kept hearing this scream that sounded like a mountain lion from the description. They heard it all the time until they were half crazy, so the father ran out with his gun one night to kill it. He heard the screams coming from his house, and ran back, and found his wife and seven kids slaughtered. People stopped hearing the screamer around the 1940s. I stretched it to the 1950s-1960s because I think people could still hear it but think it's a mountian lion (or it was always a mountian lion, who really knows). Which, brings me back to the wonder how dark some parts of this serise will get....
The imporant part of Ira's family is that both parents had this weird sensitivity. The tidbits people are getting caught up on may never be mentioned in Nellie's story or will be brushed over since it isn't important. On his dad's side he's connected to the Yorkish kings like I meantioned, but his maternal uncle is titled. I went and looked up extinct titles, and so Ira's uncle is Duke of Kendal and I might have that side of the family also tied to the Plantagenet line like the York line, just because I like the surname and want to use it. (Ira's parents would be separated by about 500 years so no "royal inbreeding" here, lol.)
