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« July 2008 | Main

Nobody -- not the butler, or the irritating boy, not Styg, not Spot, and certainly not Olive -- expected what happened next.

Still scowling at the boy up on the landing, Olive knelt down to stare the Deliryad directly in what one could assume to be its face. And she whispered something to it.

A twilighty whirlpool opened in the air above Spot, and with a startled yelp, he shimmered and dissolved into a cloud that wrapped itself out in a spiral to the edges of the foyer. For a moment, they were all consumed inside the dark, and it was extremely windy in the dusty mansion. Hats flew off of pegs, picture frames tilted, a stuffed eagle on a shelf tumbled away down the hallway. And then the cloudy black swirl uncoiled itself from around them all and Spot reappeared, panting and belly-up on the rug.

Styg whimpered. His fingernails had been wiped completely bare.

"I see you're good with pets," called Ferl from inside the cavernous umbrella stand into which he'd tumbled.

Styg lowered his head and forced his skin back to a hue that was reasonably human, though pallored and pocked with goosebumps. Olive squinted at the boy -- her first motion since the deliriad's appearance.

"Griffin," these are Styg and Olive," said Ferl. "They're here to help with the weeds, so you may thank them for coming to help us. And they both look like humans to me."

"I like the weeds," said Griffin.

The monster was still rumbling at Styg, and Ferl waved a hand at him. "You do know how to calm a deliryad, I hope," said Ferl. "Just give him what he wants." Styg looked around, lost. "Tell him a lie," Ferl said.

"I ... ah ... I'm not afraid of you," Styg whimpered, and the deliryad snapped its teeth at him, smoky particles dusting from its muzzle like the smoke of a gun.

"A better lie, please," said Ferl.

Styg wheezed. "I'm really good at gardening!" He yelled at the ceiling.

The monster paused, then turned and calmly wandered back to Ferl. From somewhere in the vicinity of its face, there was a crunching and swallowing noise.

"That's a bribe. It doesn't mean he likes you now," said the boy at the railing.

"I'm sorry to hear about your gardening skills," said Ferl. "Your mother specifically recommended you for weeding the grounds."

"Oh," said Styg, staring down at his teeth as they gnawed his lip, "I'm not BAD at it." Both he and Ferl sighed. "I wish I hadn't used that lie," he said.

"Make up another one," said the railing boy. "Make one up about her." He pointed straight like a spear into Olive's squint.

The deliryad followed the boy's arm, noticing Olive and taking an interest in her for the first time. It trotted over to her.

Its texture was fur, or tiny feathers, or maybe a silky skin -- it was impossible to tell as it advanced, its limbs like a giant grasping hand. It was a Deliryad, and it was the first one Olive had ever seen. Or at least, the first adult.

"This is Spot," Ferl said. "He belongs to Mr. Griffin."

"Well hello sir," Styg said to the monster, reaching out a hand. Olive didn't move -- not even a little. Spot's glinting eye studied Styg's hand, and then its mouth opened in an enormous jagged broken-glass snarl.

Styg backed up, his eyes wide and his skin instinctively taking on the paisley pattern of the wallpaper behind him. "He doesn't like elves," said a voice from above. "Not even to eat."

A slight boy of elevenish was standing at the balcony above a winding staircase, his arms slung over the rail and head resting at an angle. He didn't blink.