Sprite

Old man Hanan was a pain. He insisted on accompanying Jim to the gate to oversee the transfer of goods that he usually couldn’t be bothered with. He blustered and threw out orders and in general made everything take twice as long. Jim knew the wagon driver. Aldrich was a good man, reliable. He had a family that counted on his wages back in the city. Aldrich steered as clear of the hunters as he did any signs of mutants roaming the woods. He didn’t need complications in his life. But no amount of arguing would get the old man to budge. He would not allow the wagon driver through the gate onto his property. No one in or out.

“What are you going to do when it comes time for Miriam to go back to school?” Jim asked curiously as he drove their heavily laden wagon slowly down the dirt road towards the house.

Hanan had tuckered himself out directing the transfer of bags of flour and sugar, and boxes of other supplies, although the old man had stopped short of doing any actual lifting. Now he leaned against the wooden backrest, his eyes closed. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said without opening his eyes. “I think I’ll keep Miriam at home this year.” He cracked open one eye. “I’ll have to hire a tutor.” He cracked open the other eye. “Or perhaps you could tutor her. She’s outgrown that school anyway, don’t you think?”

Jim stared straight ahead, clucking softly to the horses to urge them forward. Their little wagon was not meant for hauling. “Are you keeping her here because of the Sprite?”

“There’s that,” the old man agreed. “At least for now, I don’t want rumors of the Sprite’s existence to get out. You know how young girls are. They love to gossip.”

Jim didn’t think keeping Miriam at the estate would stop the rumors which had already spread beyond their boundaries. It was inevitable, human nature being what it is. Cook knew—all the servants and most of the men who guarded the estate knew. None of them thought the Sprite was a magical creature.

“What are you going to do with him?” Jim asked, as they pulled around the back of the house. He jumped down so he could help the old man climb down on the other side. After he got Hanan settled, he would worry about unloading the wagon. “In the winter, I mean. He’ll freeze out there if we leave him at the pond. Wouldn’t it be better just to release him back into the forest? Then we wouldn’t have people trying to break into your estate for a glimpse of him, and things could get back to normal.”

John Hanan glared at him. “He’s mine. I’m not about to let him go—and I’m not afraid of outsiders, either. That’s why I have you.”

Jack of all trades, that was Jim. Head of security, guard dog, babysitter, tutor, scientist—observer—the old man expected a lot for the measly salary he paid Jim. He sighed. The trouble was, Jim liked working for Hanan. He liked being able to study nature; he had always been fascinated by the different strains of mutants he had come across in his long career as a hunter, and the opportunity to study something as different as Neistah was one he was reluctant to pass up. He didn’t even mind keeping an eye on Hanan’s granddaughter, even though she was headstrong and far too interested in that mutant Sprite in Jim’s opinion. “And when the pond freezes over?”

John Hanan rolled his eyes. “He’s magical, James.” He shook his head and walked away.

Jim called for Cook to help him unload the wagon. Most of this shipment was going to the pantry, although a few of the boxes contained guns that Jim had specifically ordered. The Hanan family owned several factories; Miriam’s father ran the one that manufactured the guns they used. For safety reasons, the guns were packed at the bottom of crates containing more mundane supplies. Rogue hunters had been known to raid supply conveyances if they were thought to be carrying weapons.

Jim lifted out the folds of cloth that covered his shipment. These were dresses that Miriam had ordered. He held one up. It wasn’t what she usually wore, and Jim could only imagine that she had requested it thinking, perhaps, that her grandfather would hold a summer party like he often did when she was home. That would not happen, now. It was a shame. Miriam would have looked lovely in this dress. Making up his mind, he gathered it up along with one or two others. He might as well deliver these to her. Maybe it would cheer her up after being cooped up all day long.

“Miriam?” He knocked softly at her door. “Miriam?” Maybe she was sleeping. He opened the door and peeked in. Not sleeping, then. Not in her room. Where was she? Jim left the dresses on her bed and went back downstairs to find Cook.

“I haven’t seen her since breakfast,” Cook answered Jim’s question. “Isn’t she with you?”

Jim scowled. “No, she’s not with me,” he said, gritting his teeth. He kept his voice down. No sense in worrying the old man. He had a fair idea of where the girl had gone.

Borrowing a horse from the stable, Jim swung on its back and made a quick sweep of the grounds immediately surrounding the house. Wherever Miriam had gone, it had been on foot. He didn’t waste too much time searching near the house; instead, he trotted up the dirt road in the direction of Black Pond, making it to the turn-off in a matter of minutes. He left the horse there and went on the smaller path alone. In his mind, he cursed Miriam for being a young fool, while he worried what the Sprite might do when there was no one else around.

He heard laughter before he got to the pond. So at least she was unharmed. A part of Jim relaxed, only to tense up again as the pond came into view. Miriam and the Sprite bobbed in the middle of the water, with just their heads visible above the blackness of the water. Miriam laughed again, and her forehead touched the Sprite’s. Jim felt his blood pressure rise.

“Miriam!” he bellowed.

Both heads turned towards him. Miriam’s eyes were wide, startled, but the Sprite’s were mocking. He grinned at Jim, then grabbed Miriam’s face between his webbed hands, took a deep breath, and put his mouth over hers. His eyes locked with Jim’s. Then he disappeared underneath the water with Miriam.

“Miriam!” Jim lunged forward, splashing into the pond where he immediately floundered, not expecting the bank to drop off so suddenly. He found his footing, and stood, panting, up to his waist in water. The Sprite and Miriam were nowhere to be found. Jim started swimming out to the last spot where he had seen them. In his head, he was ticking off the minutes. Three . . . four . . . five. . . .

The water around Jim erupted as the Sprite, still cradling Miriam who was laughing delightedly, circled around and around him. As fast as he appeared, the Sprite disappeared again, leaving Miriam treading water not three feet away from Jim. “Neistah,” Miriam called out. “That wasn’t very nice!”

Across the pond on the far shore, the Sprite climbed out and lay on the bank in the late afternoon sun.

“Come on,” Miriam said, striking out for shore. “When he gets like this, there’s no talking to him.” She climbed out on the other side of Black Pond, reaching down to help Jim up. “Are you mad at me?”

Jim glanced back at the Sprite, across the pond, then turned his attention to Miriam. “Put some clothes on,” he said shortly. He was dripping wet, and he took a minute to sit down and wring out his shirt and shoes as best he could. At least it was warm out. Despite what old man Hanan thought, Neistah was going to freeze to death as soon as the weather turned cold. At this particular moment, Jim didn’t care. He heard a sharp laugh from the other side of the pond, the first sound he had ever heard Neistah make.

Miriam rode behind Jim on the way home. “Don’t go off on your own again,” Jim said, after he had calmed down. “What if something had happened to you? No one knew where you were.”

“Neistah would protect me,” Miriam said. She was warm where she leaned against his back.

That wasn’t the point. Neistah was the threat, as far as Jim was concerned. “Just don’t do it again,” he said.

“I won’t, if you promise to bring me to Black Pond when I ask,” Miriam countered. “Neistah is teaching me how to swim.”

“Is that what he was doing?”

Jim couldn’t see Miriam’s blush, but he felt her nod against his back.

“I’ll make you a deal. If you promise not to go on your own, I promise to bring you to Black Pond in the afternoons again, and you can show me how Neistah lets you breathe underwater.” The scientist in him was curious, even as the man in him rebelled at the thought.

x x x x x x

Miriam loved the dresses. She modeled them for Jim and her grandfather, and pouted when she found out there would be no party this year. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

Miriam wheeled on her grandfather, her green eyes flashing. “That’s not fair!” she objected. “It’s not my fault you’re hiding the Sprite!” She stamped her foot in its little silver slipper. The pale green gown swirled softly around her legs. “When else am I going to get to wear this dress?”

“Would you rather he was captured by hunters and killed?” Jim asked bluntly.

Miriam hesitated. “That won’t happen,” she said uncertainly. “Will it?”

Jim shrugged. “Your grandfather is trying to protect him by keeping outsiders away. Inviting people to the estate will just make it worse. We already caught one hunter. Who knows how many more there are just waiting for an opportunity to get inside the gates?”

John Hanan nodded. “You still haven’t located Bill or Dave yet, have you? I think we can assume that they are gone for good. I can almost guarantee they won’t keep their mouths shut about the Sprite.”

“Not since we found the intruder,” Jim replied. “I’m pretty sure they were the ones responsible for him getting onto the property. That’s why they disappeared so suddenly.”

Miriam smoothed down the front of her dress. “Oh, all right,” she said grudgingly. “But I’m still wearing my dress, even if we don’t have a party.”

x x x x x x

She wore her dress the next time Jim brought her to Black Pond. It clung to her in the late August heat, and her pretty silver shoes were covered with dust, but she wore it stubbornly. She had pinned her red hair back so it cascaded down her shoulders. Jim shouldered her bag and his own.

“Neistah, Neistah!” she called, skipping on ahead of Jim. He accompanied Miriam to the pond, but then withdrew out of sight so he could observe the Sprite without his knowledge, while at the same time keeping an eye on Miriam so that no harm came to her. He carried his ever-present notepad, and he sketched the two of them as Neistah took Miriam into the water for her ‘swimming lessons.’

Jim almost wished he could study the Sprite up close, to see how his webbing functioned in the wet as opposed to when the Sprite was out of the water. He had to have gills of some sort; otherwise, how could he allow Miriam to breathe by pressing his mouth to hers? But Jim couldn’t get close enough to confirm it, any more than he could get close enough to hear what the two said to each other. Except for that one brief laugh, he had yet to hear the Sprite make a sound. Obviously, however, Miriam conversed with him. It was frustrating.

Activity on the perimeters of Hanan’s property had died down, so Jim was back to guard duty and babysitting. He didn’t mind. His eyes wandered back to his drawing. The Sprite looked human enough from a distance, except, of course, for the faint sheen of green that underlay his hair, his skin, and most notably his webbing. Since Neistah had been living at Black Pond, his webbing had faded to nearly invisible, and if not for the green tint, the ones between his fingers and toes would have truly seemed to have disappeared. The delicate fins on his ankles and on his neck that extended up behind his ears were more noticeable, and marked him as truly unhuman. His mutation was the most advanced Jim had ever seen, not only marking Neistah physically, but also allowing him to become a true creature who could survive underwater—uncannily similar to the drawings of Water Sprites in John Hanan’s books.

Jim’s eyes drifted closed. In his mind, he still saw Miriam and Neistah swimming side by side in the dark water. He felt a little envious—it was hot up in his tree-house observation post. He wished it was him there swimming alongside Miriam.

Neistah’s eyes blazed when Miriam told him that Bill and Dave had left her grandfather’s employ very suddenly.

“Papa is very angry. He wanted me to stay away from Black Pond, at least until he’s sure of what happened to those men.”

Neistah was already sure. He should have killed them long ago. It was a mistake that he would never, ever make again.

Miriam glanced towards the woods which hid her guardian from view. “I convinced Papa that Jim would take care of me,” she said with a devious grin.

Neistah grinned back. Jim had no idea what was going on under his very nose. He pulled Miriam to him and melted with her beneath the surface of the pond, mouth to mouth so that she could breathe. The surface of the pond stilled to glass.