An old diary is given to the new owners of a house in Cambria, California. Designed by famous architect Julia Morgan, it has some oddities - including a spiral staircase in the backyard, leading to nowhere. What they discover involves old Welsh magi...
While on their way to the West Fiscalini Ranch Preserve, Annie asked Prince Gwyn about cockatrices and how it was that puns had been discovered to be a weakness. Gwyn explained that they were very lonely creatures, being condemned to mingle only with their own kind. They were immune to their own power. Because of their rather frightening appearance, laughter was hard to come by. Once, when a cockatrice family had taken up residence in a tavern's hay bin, they heard the tavern patrons take part in a pun contest.
They began holding contests of their own – as it turned out, cockatrice humor and puns are as sharp as a serpent's tongue (pun intended). It was when a fairy winner asked what would cure their stony gaze that the power of cockatrice tears was learned.
Annie, my sweet author of Children's Lit, challenged each and every member of Gwyn's company. After beating all of them, she challenged the prince himself. It was then that he asked her if she would like to represent the Fae. She was thrilled, of course.
The Ray-Bans worked like a charm. The rules of the challenge were simple. Each round had a theme; two key words of any kind: noun, verb, adjective or adverb; and a time limit that shrank with every round. The winner of a previous round could keep the time limit from that round OR change the theme. There were 5 rounds.
The Cockatrice Chief was, needless to say, surprised at the sudden appearance of the Rogue half-elven Prince with a party that included a human female. She charmed him with her quick wit, good manners, and her silver tongue. When Gwyn explained that it was Annie who would lead the challenge, the Chief accepted immediately.
She won the contest. She also made Sidhe history, by winning every single round in 20 challenges. That's how she'd been given the scaled cockatrice feather, as a symbol of her skill and also a promise that the cockatrices would help defend Cambria from Gwyneth's forces. Her contest-ending pun had involved two birds and one stoned. It was epically awful, and brilliant. And that's all I'll say about that.
Sitting at the kitchen table, also wearing sunglasses, was the satyr Bran Buynite. His small, goat-like horns jutted out just above each ear, the tips barely peeking out of his mass of brown curly hair. The hair ringed his face, leaving his neck and – as evidenced by his open shirt – his chest hairless. As soon as Annie and I entered the room, he stood and bowed.
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Since he'd been sitting at the table, devouring a plate of what appeared to be melted brie and strawberry-filled croissants, sipping a cup of tea, his legs had been hidden from view. It's one thing, friends, to see a statue pairing a goat's hind quarters with a human upper half – but to see the real deal is something else entirely. You'd think that, with all I'd already seen, Bran would be just one in a long, ever-increasing line of magical beings.
But Bran was an exception. From head to waist, he looked like your average bank teller, or English teacher, or public servant. But one look at his haunches and his hooves and like Dorothy, you knew that you weren't in Kansas anymore. Then again, I half-jokingly thought, this is California. And we Californians are anything if not diverse.
"Miss Zakkarian, I am indebted to you and your...wife, Miss Bellefleur, for freeing me from the grip of that horrible child. Is there any way I can repay you? There are things in my house..."
"That your great-niece Fay and her family live in," Anne interrupted, "She's on her way here."
"Do you know what year this is, Mr. Buynite?"
"Call me Bran. Nineteen-thirty?" he ventured.
"It's 2023." I watched his face fall.
"That's...that's not possible." Annie brought him a wall calendar hanging on the downstairs door.
"Annie, why is Bran still wearing glasses?" Yes, it had taken a few minutes for that factotum to register in my head.
"I'll answer yer question, mi'lady," said Abe, who poured more tea for Bran and handed me a mugful of coffee. "Prince Gwyn says Gwyneth's two spells got tangled up together. E's not made o' stone anymore, but 'is eyes can turn others into stone."
The front door flew open as Fay, with Emily running beside her, ran to the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Emily began purring, winding herself around Bran's legs...haunches...you know what I mean. Fay was in shock as she said, "Uncle Bran?"
Her shock was much greater than mine had been, mainly because the "Charmed I'm Sure" folk had been spared anything that involved actually meeting the creatures who populated Bertha's Diary. But all her fears were allayed when he smiled broadly and said softly, "Oh – you have your mother's eyes, and her cheekbones."
Fay regained her usual composure, shot me a look that said "I'll grill you later" and sat down in the living room with her long-lost relative. "I always knew that our family had an unusual tree. Perhaps you could fill me in on this branch?"
"Abe, can you get the Farts & Geezers to put the supplies away in the cellar?" pleaded Annie sweetly, "and tell them I asked especially for them because they did such a great job rounding up those spyders? I'll make sure each one of them gets an extra muffin tomorrow morning – with lots of bran!"
"Ya mean the Callicantzaroi? Good name fer 'em! Yes, Ma'am!"
My cell rang. It was Niall. "We've got pictures and calls coming in from all around the coast. It's bad, Lils. The trails are full of animal corpses. And the campground...there are more human casualties. A lot more. I think you're right. I don't want to believe it, but you're right."
That was all I needed. I told Niall to get Scott and come by before dark. I left a new message asking Rita to come as well. I also called the Tambinis. Then I went outside and called for Kirin, whose voice chimed in my head.
"Yes, Mistress?"
"Can you bring Ryoju here, as soon as possible – preferably before dark?"
Bass bells rang with laughter. "I'm a dragon. Yes, Mistress. I think that's possible."
"And if he has friends that can use those bells, could you bring them too?"
"War, is it? I'll see you soon. Ask Mistress Annie to make some sticky rice balls – monks get hungry when fighting demons and spirits."
