An unlucky coincidence, Grandpa said consolingly.
Most unfortunate. Can't you have mercy on the boy?
The fairy chirped vehemently.
I'm sorry you feel that way. I feel terrible about what happened. I assure you the atrocity was unintentional.
After a final outburst of squealing sounds, the fairy zoomed away.
Are you okay? Kendra said, squatting beside Seth.
He made a garbled moan, then a second, more distressed complaint that sounded like a donkey gargling mouthwash.
Hush, Seth, Grandpa said. You've lost the ability of speech.
I'll fetch Dale, Lena said, hurrying off.
What have they done to him? Kendra asked.
An act of vengeance, Grandpa said grimly.
For trying to catch fairies?
For succeeding.
He caught one?
He did.
So they turned him into a deformed walrus? I thought they couldn't use magic against us!
He used potent magic to transform the captured fairy into an imp, unwittingly opening the door for magical retribution.
Seth doesn't know any magic!
I'm sure it was accidental, Grandpa said. Can you understand me, Seth? Slap your flipper three times if you grasp what I am saying.
The flipper flapped against the flagstones three times.
It was very foolish to catch a fairy, Seth, Grandpa said. I warned you they were unsafe. But I share some of the blame. I'm sure you were inspired by Maddox and wanted to begin a career as a fairy broker.
Seth nodded awkwardly, his entire bloated torso bobbing up and down.
I should have specifically forbidden it. I forget how curious and daring children can be. And how resourceful.
I would never have supposed you were capable of actually trapping one.
What magic did he use? Kendra asked, on the verge of hysterics.
If a captured fairy is kept indoors from sunset to sunrise, it changes into an imp.
What's an imp?
A fallen fairy. Nasty little creatures. Imps despise themselves as much as fairies adore themselves. Just as fairies are drawn to beauty, imps are drawn to ugliness.
Their personalities change so quickly?
Their personalities remain the same, Grandpa said.
Shallow and self-absorbed. The change in appearance reveals the tragic side of that mind-set. Vanity curdles into misery. They become spiteful and jealous, wallowing in wretchedness.
What about the fairies Maddox caught? Why don't they change?
He avoids leaving the cages indoors overnight. His captured fairies spend at least part of every night outdoors.
Just putting the container outside prevents them from becoming imps?
Sometimes powerful magic is accomplished by simple means.
Why did the other fairies attack Seth? Why would they care, if they're so selfish?
They care because they are selfish. Each fairy worries she could be next. I am told Seth even left a mirror with the fairy, so she could behold herself after she fell. The fairies considered that act particularly cruel.
Grandpa answered every question with great calm, no matter how accusingly or angrily Kendra asked it. His peaceful demeanor was helping her calm down a bit. I'm sure it was an accident, she said.
Seth nodded vigorously, blubber jiggling.
I suspect no malice. It was an unfortunate mishap. But the fairies have little interest in his motives. They were within their rights to exact retribution.
You can switch him back.
Restoring Seth to his original form is well beyond my abilities.
Seth let out a long, mournful bellow. Kendra patted his hump. We have to do something!
Yes, Grandpa said. He placed his hands over his eyes and then dragged them down his face. This would be very complicated to explain to your parents.
Who can fix him? Maddox?
Maddox is no magician. Besides, he is long gone.
Though I hesitate, I can think of only one person who might be able to undo the enchantments placed on your brother.
Who?
Seth has met her.
The witch?
Grandpa nodded. Under the circumstances, our only hope is Muriel Taggert.
The wheelbarrow swayed as it bumped over a root.
Dale managed to steady it. Seth groaned. He was naked except for a white towel wrapped around his middle.
Sorry, Seth, Dale said. This is a tricky path.
Are we almost there? Kendra asked.
Not much farther, Grandpa replied.
They walked single file, Grandpa in the lead, followed by Dale pushing the wheelbarrow, and then Kendra in the rear. What had begun as a nearly indiscernible trail near the barn had broadened into a well-trodden path. Later they branched off onto a smaller track. They had crossed no new paths since then.
The woods seem so quiet, Kendra said.
They are quietest when you stay on the paths, Grandpa said.
It seems too quiet.
There is a tension in the air. Your brother committed a serious offense. The fall of a fairy is a woeful tragedy. The retribution of the fairies was equally brutal. Eager eyes await to see if the conflict will escalate.
It won't, right?
I hope not. If Muriel cures your brother, the fairies could interpret it as an insult.
Would they attack him again?
Probably not. At least not directly. The punishment has been administered.
Can we heal the fairy?
Grandpa shook his head. No.
Could the witch?
Seth was altered by magic imposed upon him. But the potential to fall and become an imp is a fundamental aspect of being a fairy. She transformed in accordance to a law that has existed as long as fairies have had wings.
Muriel might be able to undo the enchantments forced upon Seth. Reversing the fall of a fairy would be far beyond her capacity.
Poor fairy.
They reached a fork in the path. Grandpa turned left.
Almost there, he said. Keep silent as we converse with her.
Kendra stared at the bushes and trees, expecting to find spiteful eyes glaring back at her. What creatures would come into view if all the greenery were removed? What would happen if she raced off the path? How long before some gruesome monster devoured her?
Grandpa stopped, pointing away into the trees. Here we are.
Kendra saw the leafy shack in the distance, off the path through the trees.
Too much undergrowth for the wheelbarrow, Dale said, scooping Seth into his arms. Although Seth was much more blubbery, he had not increased in size. As they waded through the undergrowth, Dale carried him without much difficulty.
The ivy-shrouded shack drew near. They walked around to the front. The filthy witch sat inside, her back against the tree stump, chewing on a knot in a bristly rope.
A pair of imps sat on the tree stump. One was skinny, with prominent ribs and long, flat feet. The other was compact and plump.
Hello, Muriel, Grandpa said.
The imps sprang from the trunk and scurried out of sight. Muriel looked up, a slow grin revealing decayed teeth. Could that be Stan Sorenson? She rubbed her eyes theatrically and squinted at him. No, I must be dreaming.