Shelter from the storm

As I stare at Leslie running towards me, the invisible pull only seems to get stronger. I dig my fingers into the tree bark, ignoring the stinging pain, and do as she shouted at me to – I hold on.

Moments later, I feel something at my waist and my first instinct is to fight it, but when I look down, I see a rope winding itself around me and the tree, binding me down, holding me there. I can feel whatever power is pulling at me also pulling at the rope, fighting it, one sort of magic pitted against the other. I can't tell which will win.

Me, I cling to the tree and close my eyes tightly, willing for Leslie to come out on top.

I still have no idea what it is that's attacking us, but I can hear how Leslie fights it, can feel the rope around my waist losing and tightening again, depending who has the upper hand at any given moment. I want to scream, but the sound is stuck in my throat, leaving me in a silent, wordless, helpless terror.

Just hold on.

It's all I can do.

Just hold on.

I hold on and on and on until – until suddenly, the pulling stops.

Suddenly, there's just the rope and my fingers dug into the tree bark, but no other force left, nothing to fight anymore. There's no sound but the wind rustling the trees and the soft pitter-patter of the rain.

Slowly, I open my eyes.

Leslie stands some feet away from me, breathing heavily, a look of intense concentration on her face. Above her, I spot Persis softly floating back to earth, a rope slung around her ankle. Even from a distance, I can see that her cheeks are stained with tears.

"Mum!" she sobs and throws herself into her mother's arms the moment her feet touch the ground. Leslie hugs her tight, rocking her, stroking her hair and making soft, soothing noises.

I work my fingers loose from the tree and try to ignore the pang in my heart.

The rope is still wound around my waist, still securing me to the tree. I try to loosen it, look for a knot I can untie, but there is none.

Witchcraft, I remind myself. I stand no chance against it.

Settling back against the tree, I lean my cheek against the rough bark and give in to a power that's too strong for me, even if it's a friendly one. Not wanting to break up the moment between mother and daughter, I can only wait to be freed.

It takes a few more moments before Persis's sobs turn to sniffles. Raising my head, I see Leslie looking over at me. Her expression is puzzled for a moment, but then clears in understanding. "Sorry," she mouths and a second later, the rope drops to the ground, letting me go.

I take step back and breathe in deeply. "Thank you."

Leslie smiles slightly and shakes her head. Persis raises her tear-stained face, her eyes finding mine.

"I'm sorry." She sounds utterly stricken. "I'm sorry. It was my fault."

"I… I don't see how it could be," I reply cautiously. Leslie rubs her daughter's back comfortingly, her eyes sympathetic.

Persis shakes her head forcefully, refusing to be calmed. "It was my fault. I wasn't careful. Mum said not to leave the grounds. I wasn't paying attention. We shouldn't have gone this far."

"It's okay, sweetheart," soothes Leslie. "It's okay. Everyone is fine."

We are, but only for her timely intervention. If she hadn't come when she did…

I swallow and push the thought away.

"Shall we go back inside?" I suggest instead, because if Persis is right, we're still outside their home's boundaries and anyway, it's raining heavier than ever.

"An excellent idea," Leslie praises. Persis nods weakly and allows her mother to steer her back to where we came from, back towards the castle. I hurry to catch up with them, not wanting to be left behind.

We don't speak until we're back at their home, safe and dry behind its heavy, strong walls. It has seen worse threats than this, I believe, and being ensconced inside is a comforting feeling.

Without so much as a movement from Leslie, our clothes and hair are suddenly dry and warm again, the cold and clammy feeling of them a thing of the past. A second later, I hear the tell-tale clatter of a kettle from the kitchen, promising us a cup of hot, strong tea.

"Sit," directs Leslie as we enter the living room, which is stuffed full of squishy armchairs and cosy blankets. The moment I gingerly sit down in one of them, a fire springs to life in the fireplace. Persis curls up in the armchair closest to the fire and a blanket floats over to cover her. Another one hovers by my side and when I nod permission, it settles itself over my shoulders.

Outside in the hall, I can hear Leslie's muffled voice as she undoubtedly alerts someone to what has happened. Through the closed door, I can't make out what she's saying, but I have no energy to listen either. Instead, I snuggle deeper under the blanket and turn my face towards the fire. Only now do I notice that I'm shivering.

"I'm really sorry," comes Persis's voice, sounding very small.

I shake my head automatically. "It's not your fault."

"But it is," she insists, a little shrilly. "I should have realised we walked too far. I should have paid more attention!"

Inwardly, I sigh. I've never been very good at comforting others.

"Did you attack me?" I ask her, taking care to make my voice sound kind.

Persis shakes her head and sniffles.

"Then it's not your fault," I conclude simply. "We should be free to go wherever we want and if someone prevents us from doing so, it's their fault, not ours."

As I speak, the door creaks open slightly and two cups float through it, one for each of us. Inside is dark, steaming tea and I close my fingers around the hot mug gratefully.

I'm not sure whether I convinced Persis that she did nothing wrong, but she doesn't protest anymore either. Instead, she takes a sip of tea that must surely burn her mouth, hot as it is, but she doesn't even flinch.

We drink our tea in silence and as we do, I feel the anxiety fall away from me. The room is warm and safe and I feel myself growing drowsy. On the other side of the room, Persis's eyelids are dropping, too, and I just have time to ask myself whether Leslie put one of her potions into the tea before my own eyes fall shut as well.

I sleep deeply and dreamlessly.

When I wake up again, an indiscernible amount of time later, I feel, at first, a little disoriented. I'm still curled up in the armchair, the blanket having slipped to the floor. Agnes has folded herself into a cat donut on my lap and the now-cold cup of tea is hovering patiently in the air near my head.

Across from me, Persis is still fast asleep. Next to her stands the witch, looking down at her with a mixture of concern and affection. When he hears me move, he turns his head towards me.

"Hello fairy girl. Sleep well?" he asks.

I do my best Agnes impression and glare at him. The corners of his smile raise into a smile.

"How long did I sleep?" I want to know, feeling grumbly at having to ask at all.

"Long enough for me to drive up from Edinburgh," he replies and nods at the ancient grandfather clock standing in a corner. It's already afternoon.

I move my stiffened limbs and rotate my shoulders in an unsuccessful attempt to get the crink from my neck. Agnes, disturbed by my movements, raises her head to glare, doing a much better job of it than I ever could. I scratch her ears in apology and she settles back down.

"Where's Leslie?" I ask the witch – or Ken, I suppose, as I should be calling him, given how I'm unexpectedly finding myself surrounded by not one but three witches.

"She went to check on the boundaries," he answers as he sits down in yet another armchair. "Not that I didn't already do it, but Mum likes to be sure."

"Nothing wrong with that," I argue, feeling the need to defend Leslie who's never been anything but kind to me.

Her son waves my remark aside. "Of course there isn't. Better safe than sorry, especially after today."

A cold fear trickles down my back as I think back to the events of the morning.

"Do you think it was the same… the some someone who attacked us in Edinburgh?" I ask, though even as I do, I realise that the witch – Ken – has no way of knowing.

Surprisingly, he nods slowly anyway. "I briefly compared notes with my mother and from what she said, I would say it was the same attacker."

Absent-mindedly, I stroke Agnes as I mull over his words. "I didn't see anyone," I admit after a moment. "Not in the alley and not out in the woods just now."

"There was no-one to see," he replies calmly.

"Oh?" I frown, confused. "There must have been someone though, right? Or something?"

"There was someone – or something," Ken agrees. "There was just nothing to see though. It wasn't a solid figure so much as –"

"A presence," I finish quietly.

Somehow, the thought makes it even more frightening. Could it be that we're fighting an invisible foe?

"I couldn't… I couldn't feel it either," I continue slowly. "Normally, I know instinctively when magical beings are near and I know which kind of magic they possess, too, but with this one… I didn't feel a thing."

"They might be very good at hiding themselves," Ken suggests and even as he speaks, I know what he isn't saying.

That our foe might not just be invisible but also in possession of a kind of magic none of us understands or even knows.

I shiver unconsciously and gather Agnes closer to my chest. She meows in protest and wiggles free of my hold. Jumping to the ground, she settles by my feet instead, safely out of reach of my gathering arms, and starts grooming her glossy fur very meticulously.

For a moment, I just watch her go about her work, before raising my head and announcing to no-one in particular, "I should call Carl."

But my phone is upstairs in the Tower Bedroom and the very thought of standing up and tackling all those stairs to get it poses a seemingly insurmountable problem. Despite the hours I slept, I still feel oddly drained and so, I make no move to get up from my cosy armchair.

"Do you need your phone?" Ken guesses.

I nod, briefly wondering whether he has some kind of spell to read my mind or whether my thoughts are just that easy to predict. Ultimately, I'm too tired to care though.

My phone, apparently having taken a shortcut, floats in through the window and towards me, hovering helpfully near the cup of tea until I take it. The cup, meanwhile, moves away to empty its remaining contents into the pot of a large plant before leaving in direction of the kitchen. The teacup of a still-sleeping Persis follows suit and I can't help roll my eyes. Show-off!

Carl answers his phone within seconds. "Hey. I've been waiting for you to call."

"There was a slight…" I hesitate, looking for the right words. "A mishap."

"A mishap?" he repeats, doubt in his voice. I've never been very good at fooling him.

"I ventured too far and whoever got it into his head to bother me last week decided to do so again," I elaborate, trying to make light of the situation.

Carl's reply is a prolonged, meaningful silence.

"I'm okay," I hurry to assure him. "Leslie came home just in time and now we're back inside, all safe and sound."

There's a deep sigh on the other end of the line. "Did you see who it was?"

"No," I admit, somewhat ruefully. "Did you find out anything new?"

It must be quite blatant to him that by switching the subject, I'm trying to distract him from me being attacked again, but to my relief, he goes along with it anyway. "A little boy has been missing for two days. I haven't been able to establish it for sure, but everything points to him being a shapeshifter."

And there goes my relief.

Exchanging a quick glance with Ken, I can see that he looks concerned. I didn't put Carl on speakerphone, but in the quiet room, his voice must sound loud enough for Ken to hear anyway.

"What do we know?" I ask Carl.

"Nothing much as of yet. He's about seven and his pet hamster told one of the house mice that he suddenly disappeared," explains Carl. "The mouse, in turn, told one of my rat informants. From what I gathered, he was there in the evening and gone in the morning. The hamster was in the room, but they're… not the brightest bunch, to say the least. He did say he never saw anyone enter the room during the night."

"That fits, actually. We never saw anyone either," I tell him. "Whoever is doing this, they have no…"

"Corporeal form?" suggests Carl when I trail off.

I nod slowly. "Yes. Or at least, they're very good at hiding."

There's a humming sound as Carl thinks about what I told him. "This is getting dangerous, Rilla."

"You don't say?" I scoff.

"Are you sure you don't want –" he begins.

"Carl!" I warn, interrupting him.

He sighs. "Yes, I know. I know."

"Good!" I narrow my eyes slightly, even knowing he can't see it.

There's a pause, before Carl asks, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," I promise. "A little shaken, but nothing a good cup of tea won't fix."

In fact, the cup of tea fixed next to nothing, but there's no use telling that to Carl and worrying him further.

"Right. Great. I'm glad." From the tone of his voice, I know he's thinking rapidly. "Look, you might not hear from me for a few days. I don't like how little we know, so I'm going to go undercover for a while and, um, try to find out more."

"Is that necessary?" I want to know, not at all pleased with his plan.

"Do you have a better idea?" counters Carl. "A little boy is missing and we still know far too little. Right now, this is our best shot."

"It seems like a lot of risk to take for what might be a… questionable outcome," I argue, frowning.

Carl chuckles. "Have some faith in me, Rilla. I have a plan and I think it's the right one."

"Well, then." I sigh, still reluctant. "But try and text me occasionally, okay? Just so I know you're alright."

"I'll be in touch," Carl promise. "And you, take care of yourself. Stick to the house until we know what we're up against."

I grumble at being thus restricted, but I know he's right, so I don't protest. Outside the boundaries of this castle, I'm a sitting duck, to be snatched by anyone who so pleases.

Eliciting the promise from Carl to be careful himself, I end the call and toss the phone to the carpeted floor. It lands not far from where Agnes is currently grooming her left front paw and she flicks an ear in annoyance.

"Is he okay?" asks Ken, meaning Carl.

"I hope so." I rub my face, feeling resigned. What did we do to get ourselves into this?

"His rat form is a good cover," points out Ken, obviously trying to cheer me up. "He'll be okay."

I nod slowly. "At least whoever it is who's after us isn't undefeatable. Both you and your Mum managed to drive him away."

I expect assent, but instead, I get silence.

Looking at Ken questioningly, I see that his expression is thoughtful. "He left. It wasn't our doing."

"But –" I start to protest.

He shakes his head. "In the alley, he left when Carl turned up. I don't know why, maybe he didn't want an audience. Today, in the woods, Mum was helped by the protective spells placed on the castle. Persis and you had only just left its grounds when he attacked and some of the spells reached further out to support her."

"And if they hadn't?" I ask, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

Another shake of the head from Ken. "He was stronger than me and Mum said he was stronger than her, too. Whatever we're up against, we don't have the power to match it."

Instinctively, I wrap my arms around myself. Immediately, the blanket floats up from where it had slipped to the floor and settles back around my shoulders. I look up and find Leslie standing in the doorway.

"You're safe here," she promises. "I checked the perimeter spells and they're intact. I added some more for good measure and so did Ken." She looks at her son. "Good work, by the way."

"Thanks." He tips his head to her, accepting the praise.

Leslie walks over to Persis and places a hand on her forehead.

"She drank more of her tea," I tell her, feeling I should explain why she's still asleep while I'm already up.

"I put a sleeping potion into the tea," Leslie explains to Ken, confirming my suspicion. "I figured they could both need the rest. I hope that was alright?"

I need a moment to realise that the final question was directed at me. "Rest was good," I admit. "I'd just like to be told in advance next time if that's not too much trouble."

"None at all," assures Leslie. "I should have asked first. I apologise for not thinking of it."

"You shouldn't be apologising. After all, it's me who dragged you into this in the first place," I point out. "If Ken and I hadn't run into each other, no-one would have attacked your home today and there wouldn't have been any need to give sleeping potions to anyone either."

"I was asking for it, wasn't it?" That's Ken and when I look at him, I see an amused sparkle in his eyes. "If I hadn't stalked you that night, I wouldn't have gotten dragged into anything. Some might say I got what I deserved."

Hm. That's a compelling point.

"Stalked her?" Leslie groans softly. "Kenneth! I taught you better than that!"

"Just a little bit," I amend, though quite why I'm defending him, I don't know. "He even apologised."

"I should hope so!" Leslie purses her lips, clearly disappointed.

"And I saved her the next day," argues Ken. "Surely, that counts for something?"

Leslie nods, reluctant. I, however, sigh. "Which brings us back to my point. Now both of you have had to save me and to top it off, Persis was in danger as well. I'm really sorry my presence is causing such problems to you."

"Not your fault," comes a sleepy voice from Persis's armchair by the burned-down fire.

"Not my fault?" I repeat, incredulous.

"Not your fault," she affirms, sounding more awake now.

"How is it now my fault?" I want to know.

She uncurls from under her blanket and stretches in a way that would have made Agnes proud. "In the same way that us getting attacked wasn't my fault," she explains. "You should be able to go anywhere and talk to anyone without being attacked as well. If someone attacks you anyway, it's their fault, not yours."

"She makes a valid point," remarks Ken, nodding approvingly.

Considering Persis's words, I find myself smiling. She threw my own argument right back at me and did it in an exemplary way. I don't even have the smallest ground for protests anymore.

"I suppose you're right," I admit to her.

She nods, pleased. "I usually am. Yet, people are always surprised to hear it."

"Oh, darling." Laughing, Leslie reaches out to ruffle her hair.

"If I may not be sorry, might I be grateful instead?" I wonder. "Everything you've done for me already has been incredibly nice. I'm truly grateful for it."

Aunt Marilla, without a doubt, would be well-pleased with my manners, but quite apart from being polite, I do mean every word. Used as I am to rely on no-one but Carl and myself, this family of strangers has shown me every possible kindness and while I've encountered kindness often before during my travels, never has it been shown in the face of such danger.

"We're glad to do it," Leslie assures me.

Persis nods her head. "Yes. We're in it for good now as well."

"So it appears," agrees Ken, flashing a grin.

I roll my eyes at him, but I do so more out of habit than because I actually mean it. After all, much as it pains me to admit it, he was the one who brought me here and while I'm naturally proud, I'm not so foolish as to be unable to see the way he's helped me.

"Thank you. Truly." And these words, I mean whole-heartedly.

The title of this chapter is taken from the song 'I'm okay' (written by Christina Aguilera and Linda Perry, released by Christina Aguilera in 2002).

A/N: I know how futile this is, but it also felt so wrong to just continue posting while the world gets turned upside-down without at least addressing this. From the safety of Western Germany, I still struggle to wrap my head around the fact that we have, once again, a war of this magnitude happening in Europe. Never would I have thought that something like this could happen in this day and age - in my lifetime. It seemed unthinkable and yet, it is now a terrifying reality. Knowing there are readers from Ukraine, I just hope with all my heart that you and your families somehow stay safe, whoever and wherever you are. To anyone affected by this war, be it personally or through relatives and loved ones, please know that the majority of the world is with you and that we're all thinking of you. We can but hope that the killing and suffering will end as soon as possible and that freedom will prevail. The bravery shown by the people of Ukraine as they protect not only their country but our shared way of life is incredibly humbling to us all. I know the help we send seems like so little, but our thoughts and prayers are with you always. War and crisis so often bring out the best and the worst in us, and we're seeing the best of the human spirit in the courage and the humanity of the Ukrainian people. Please stay safe and stay strong!