You Let Me In - Camilla Bruce Page 0,20

wife had picked it up, or he thought it was something the cat dragged in.

Or maybe—just maybe—he too was in denial.

* * *

Despite our different opinions, he was a good friend to me, Dr. Martin. Without him, I might not have escaped those first tribulations quite as unscathed, even if it was technicalities more than anything else that sealed the outcome of the trial. It was still nice of him to try to redeem me.

He was dead by the time those other deaths took place, and I still often wonder what he would have made of those.

X

I remember, a long, long time ago, when I first told Pepper-Man about seeing Dr. Martin. We were lying in our meadow at the edge of the woods; it was a warm night, but twilight was settling. It was our favorite time of the day, that silent hour before night arrived. Our chosen spot was so peaceful, no strollers or dog walkers ever went there. I suppose that was due to Pepper-Man; his presence felt unsettling to most people. When I lay on my back and looked up, I could see the treetops swaying, the birds rushing across the sky. He held my hand. It had changed over the years. Where he used to look gnarled, he was smooth. Where he used to be pale, he held a soft, pink pallor. His warts were gone; his lips were red. His white, white hair had turned to silk. It was my doing, I know that now, it was due to my blood, which sustained him.

He was becoming more like me.

“What if the doctor thinks I’m mad?” I squeezed his fingers. “What if he locks me up somewhere?”

“I would find you.” Pepper-Man squeezed my fingers in return. His eyes didn’t look so murky anymore, but had become a deep and warm forest green.

“Would you break me out of the asylum?” I was only half joking.

“I would break you out no matter where you were kept. Do you recall the night of the first feast? I came for you then.”

“That is true,” I admitted.

“Nothing they can do to you is important. All that is important is here, between us.”

“Mother would disagree.”

“Mother does not know you.”

“But you do?”

“I do.” He turned over so he lay on his side, looking down at me, head resting in his hand. His tattered rags were gone by then, replaced by clothes of charcoal gray. “Here.” He handed me a mason jar that I recognized from our pantry. The orange spread it used to contain was gone; instead there was a sprig with two black berries, a dead white butterfly, and four dry pine needles inside.

“What is this?” I looked at the curious contents.

“What you wished for, my Cassandra. It is a story for you to tell people—something they will believe.”

He was right, I had said that. I shook the jar gently. “A story, huh?”

“Indeed. You might enjoy that more than crowns now, maybe.”

“You mean I have outgrown your necklaces and rings?”

“A little.” Pepper-Man smiled. Despite his new beauty, the smile still looked cruel; his teeth were too sharp and his lips too red.

“How do I get it out?” I turned the jar over.

“Boil it in water and drink it as tea, or you could eat it as it is, from the jar.”

“Water it is, then.”

Pepper-Man sat up on his knees and lifted my skirt away from my thighs, searched with his finger for an unmarked patch of flesh.

“Do not fret about the doctor,” he said before his head dipped down to feed. “Nothing they can do can ever hurt you.”

* * *

Faerie gifts can be many things. Sometimes they come as inspiration. Trinkets and baubles and crowns I can go without, but I find myself addicted to the faerie tea; liquid stories delivered in jars. There is nothing like the feeling of its power unfurling inside, petal by petal—a fresh story. Faerie magic is the purest kind of magic, blending nature skillfully. Faeries know everything that lives around them, are drawn to life—and death—itself. They feel the essence of every bone and every tree. In my jars, an angry spruce and a melancholy willow meet a burst of happy buttercups, or the bitter decay of a dead wasp. No one knows quite how the stories will turn out, not even the faerie who makes them. That’s a part of their alchemy—to never quite know the outcome. It makes it as interesting for them as for me, to see how a particular blend