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“…who like to spend entire nights dancing…”
“…love to fly…”
“…when you hear the whispers on the wind…”
I could only shake my head, morning sunlight casting shapes on my bedroom wall as I turned another page. The newest rabbit must have wandered through my desk last night, because this morning’s attempt at organization had found several blank sheets that had changed stacks and acquired a series of rabbit prints, each formed in words and partial sentences. That mischievous creature had been teasing me for days, but they rarely decided to walk across a blank sheet. Most rabbits preferred to tell me their story in a slightly more verbal manner.
“…jumping through the trees…”
Or perhaps this one had just taken the teasing a bit further than usual. Most of these snippets had nothing to do with the promised story, after all. The next line referenced the canary’s song, followed by another about the spider’s love of fabric design. Nothing referenced last week’s case, but a distracted thought still wondered if the rabbit had decided to change its tale.
Rapid thumps from my wardrobe belied that idea, and I glanced over to find one beady eye glaring at me from beneath the wardrobe door. Or not.
The eye disappeared just as the front door slammed, then footsteps stormed up the stairs to make me jump and quickly shove my notes out of sight. Holmes stopped in the sitting room, thankfully, but I refused to chance him walking in on me trying to write. When his initial flurry of activity changed to pacing, a gesture ordered the creature still watching me to stay in its nest while I made my way downstairs.
Low grumbling worked through his current case as he paced in front of the fireplace. He scowled at the floor when I entered the room, so I found a seat on the settee instead of crossing his path to reach my armchair. His grumbling only grew louder.
Though not clearer. I understood maybe one word in five, but the notes he continually smoothed and shuffled and shook probably pertained to the breaking and entering case he had started a few days ago. One page abruptly flew over his shoulder to flutter to the ground, but the next pass retrieved the sheet only to throw it onto my armchair.
“Where was…who…that led…”
Frustration nearly crumbled one sheet. He stopped himself just in time, but the next pass scowled at the armchair he had nearly kicked—my armchair, though I tried to tell myself he scowled at the armchair.
I still moved to the furthest end of the settee. I probably should have stayed upstairs.
“…she gave…no, he gave. She took…that went…what about…that is wrong…”
Mutters turned into a true growl as the pen he carried around corrected an error in his notes. Mrs. Hudson would have something to say if she found ink on her wall.
Not that I would mention that, with Holmes in this mood. I knew better than to speak with Holmes in this mood.
“…there, but…house…neighbor…nothing…”
And he showed no indication of coming out of this mood any time soon. When his next pass firmly moved both armchairs away from the fireplace to open more room to pace, I started debating whether I should just give him the room. Or the flat. I doubted he would want or even allow me to help, and while he had told me once or twice that he never wanted me to leave, his actions in the moment rarely matched the awkwardly stammered promise. Could I do anything by staying here?
No, and readjusting on the settee sparked a scowl at the offending noise. I doubted he would care enough to follow me upstairs—or truly notice my absence—but I would not take the chance when a rabbit might be out. When another readjustment earned an even darker glower, I pulled myself to my feet. My presence was clearly less than welcome.
And I always went for a walk on the equinox anyway. I might as well go now. A moment retrieved my cane from the corner and my jacket from its hook before I carefully descended to the front door. The fall day boasted a pleasant breeze and the first comfortable temperature in weeks. I could decide in a few hours whether I wanted to return for luncheon or supper.
“Easy, lass. I’ll not hurt ye. I ‘eard yer pa say he was goin’ fer help ‘n thought I’d try. Can ye grab hold?”
Torsten stretched his hand as far as he could. The youngling in front of him understood his words well enough, but wide eyes flinched slightly at the motion. Another moment forced herself to relax, however, and she braced herself against the side of the ditch. If her pa could not reach her, Torsten had little chance, with the height difference between dwarf and nisse, and the tiny hand remained well out of Torsten’s range. He would have to find another way.
Or simply wait for her pa to return, but he doubted the youngling would keep her composure that long. Young Dreyalynn had tripped and tumbled into a dry ditch with sides far too steep to climb. Her mam had evidently not come on this excursion, Torsten could not lift the girl high enough himself, and the lack of anyone in sight ruled out a living ladder. With the youngling too young to take the fast route and too big to take as a passenger, Torsten started looking for a long stick. He needed to free her before the growing fear removed her ability to stay quiet. The little family should have known better than to linger so close to a portal on the equinox. Especially in the middle of one of the island’s largest human cities.
Now what could he use to reach her?
There. Still connected to a tree, unfortunately, but that small branch should work, provided the child could hang on tightly enough. A moment’s quiet reassurance helped calm the young one long enough for him to step away, but he barely managed to break the bit of wood free of its tree before his every sense alerted him of someone else nearby. Could they help?
No. He turned back toward the ditch’s edge to find a human kneeling in the dirt. Torsten felt his lip lift in a silent snarl and prepared to lunge. If that illogical, ruthless creature dared harm a child—
“Deep breath. You’re alright. Let’s get you out of there. Are your mother and father nearby?”
Protective anger drained in half a breath as a quiet, gentle litany joined the hand reaching for the youngling. When even the human’s longer reach could not quite close the distance, the stick he had set aside did. Before Torsten could do more than return to the edge of the hole, the human’s cane had deposited Dreyalynn on solid ground. The youngling ran straight to Torsten, of course, but the man merely tipped his hat and turned away.
“Dreya!”
Just as Dreyalynn’s parents returned, naturally. The man’s uneven gait quickly disappeared into a nearby copse of trees as Dreyalynn’s parents fussed over her, but while they had an overly large number of thanks for Torsten’s assistance, Torsten’s attention remained on that strange human.
Humans attacked magicals. Humans blamed magicals for everything. Humans did not help a magical without asking for something in return.
Unless that was no human. Had one of the immortals decided to wander London on the equinox? Or maybe a nymph had been exploring the city?
Unlikely. Torsten should have felt the magic of an immortal. Even one of the more minor ones like Morgana, and no nymph had such a complete disguise when they decided to explore. He quickly dealt with the worried parents, complimented the youngling on her composure, and extracted himself to follow that…being’s trail.
Because that could not have been a human. No stinking human would—or could—carry in his pocket the most powerful piece of magic Torsten had found outside of the immortals’ cities. Nor would one of the magic-less surface dwellers wander through a portal without immediately panicking. This was why Torsten preferred to stay out of the city. Cities were complicated. Dangerous. And filled with humans to make them more dangerous, scum of the earth as they were.
So what being had decided to wander through a portal, help a youngling, and ask for nothing in return?
The trail drifted through the trees and out the other side to the park’s open, grassy area. Families played here and there, with each small group mostly separate from the others, but the homing beacon released by his magical pocket led around the families toward the next portal. Considering the being’s meandering pace, Torsten needed less than a minute to catch up.
And find a pure human, just as he had originally thought. The item in one pocket remained the only trace of magic in his vicinity.
But that renewed the question of what such a creature was doing in Regent’s largest piece of magical realm.
“You can come out. I don’t bite.”
The slightest hint of amusement threaded the invitation to make Torsten’s scowl deepen. A moment’s hesitation decided to show himself, however, and three quick jumps put the stranger between him and the portal. With the human provided a clear escape route that did not lead further into the magical realm, Torsten stepped around a large tree.
“What’re ye doin’ here?”
“Going for a walk,” was the simple answer even as the man turned to face him. “The unknowledgeable tend to react better when another human describes their surroundings than when the closest magical does.”
Not welcome at home. Might as well wander.
Surface thoughts drifted to Torsten’s perception with the man’s attention. Incomplete and missing important context, the snippets he caught still painted an unpleasant picture.
Why would a human not be welcome in his own home?
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” the man continued at Torsten’s silence. “You are aware that unknowledgeable humans can mistakenly wander through portals on the equinox, right?”
“A’course I am,” he tried to snarl. As if he would not know how to do his job!
But…the question had sounded more like confirmation than accusation, and the man had flinched at Torsten’s tone.
Sounds like Holmes…another bitter nisse. Wonder who…
“Apologies.” A moment waited for Torsten to ask something else. When the silence stretched, the man tipped his hat once more and turned away.
Don’t need luncheon. Hours before supper. Doubt even then…overstay my welcome. Can limit…afford a hotel?
Though he made no effort to silence the thoughts Torsten had already caught. With a link established, Torsten caught far more than the barest surface thoughts that had reached him first, and if he had heard those thoughts from anyone but a human, he would have grown worried immediately.
But this was a human. Humans attacked without listening and injured without care. Humans did not deserve anything, much less protection.
Doubt he’s noticed I left. Mrs. Hudson will probably save me a plate, but if not, I can wait. I have before. Should I change portals yet?
But that…
“Not all humans are the same, Torsten,” Mr. Kringle’s voice echoed from memory. “I swear to you, they aren’t. There might come a day when you meet a knowledgeable human who needs you, and I hope you can push past this growing prejudice to reach out to them. Their life might depend on it.”
A lifelong understanding confirmed by experience warred with the evidence in front of him, but effort tried to follow the thought to its conclusion. If Mr. Kringle had promised truly. If not all humans were the same, and this human was not welcome at home, did that mean…
Does he want me to leave?
But this was a human!
“Stay away from my boy!” The memory hit with all the force of the Polar Line at top speed, nearly making him stumble into a tree. Pain. Ages of pain. From the bear. From the mother. From the rejection. Neverending pain. Never again.
Except…
The man hesitated, then turned away from the portal to wander toward the next one on the north side of the park, apparently never noticing that Torsten remained within range.
Might as well get further away. The Irregulars don’t need to see me appear out of nowhere, and I’m not hungry enough to waste money on a street vendor.
“Unwelcome” might be a less physical danger than a raging polar bear, but danger was danger, and the thoughts Torsten caught the man directing at himself should never be conceived, much less applied to one’s self.
Which meant this human might be in danger. And if this human was in danger…
“I swear to you…”
Then he needed a protector.
The decision created a bond, which let Torsten follow the man—Doctor John Watson—through nearly a dozen portals and two parks. Three lost humans found their way out of the magical realm, and two dwarf younglings evidently knew him, based on the demands to play for nearly an hour. When Doctor Watson finally begged off and continued his walk, another, smaller park calmed a terrified mother and found a young nymph that had wandered too far. He teased the pixies, coordinated with the sylph, and called several Endangered Ones by name.
But he flinched whenever his thoughts turned towards home. Homes? And he repeatedly studied Torsten’s current location despite Torsten’s concealment, as if that magic in his pocket announced Torsten’s presence. Darkness had long fallen before Doctor Watson finally sighed and ducked out the closest portal.
“I’m headed home now,” he announced without looking at Torsten. “You can quit following me.”
No, but Torsten saw no reason to reply. The doctor hesitated, shifted one leg, then sighed again before walking down the street. He clearly did not see Torsten as a threat.
For good reason, but humans did not have the telepathy of the magical. How did he know that Torsten followed to help, not attack?
Protections. Powerful protections, and ones set in place by the big man himself. Torsten felt the first layer nearly a mile from the doctor’s home, and the strongest layer shimmered almost visibly about ten feet away from the building’s foundations. If he had carried any hint of threat directed at the humans inside, Torsten would have been frozen in place at minimum.
People. People inside. He should probably stop using the insult if he intended to protect one, but he watched from the entry as the woman on the ground floor greeted the doctor with a smile and a plate of supper—and shook a finger at Torsten, also despite his concealment—but the man on the first floor simply snarled and kept walking a repetitive path across the room, barely looking at Doctor Watson, much less the nisse shadowing him.
The doctor merely sighed—yet again—and took his plate to the table. The silent, awkward meal watched the other man pace and made absolutely no noise.
But the doctor’s surface thoughts indicated absolutely nothing wrong with this.
Torsten might need to watch for a while before he found the true danger.