“He will be back to normal within the hour,” Ellie assured her. “And hungry, so I’d better get him back to my cottage where I keep sprite snacks.” She gave the little girl a wink. Rita lifted her arms, and Ellie caught her up for a big hug. Then Karim wanted a hug, and even Yasmine waited in line. Only Rafiq held out, considering himself far too old for such things.
Rafiq and Yasmine helped carry the cages and her pack to the door while the little ones bounced along behind. Just as Ellie’s hand touched the crystal doorknob, Karim whispered something to Yasmine, who hushed him with a guilty glance at Ellie.
Her suspicion rising, Ellie turned back to ask direct questions. Even as she opened her mouth, a disturbing sound reached her ears. “Wait! Do you hear that?”
“What?” the children all asked.
Ellie put a finger to her lips and heard it again—the unmistakable squeak of a cinder sprite in distress. The mother sprite heard it too and answered with sharp whistles.
“Where is it coming from? Is there another baby sprite in the suite?” Ellie snatched an empty cage and the spray bottle from her pack then stepped slowly along the passage with her head tilted to better judge direction. “How many sprites did you catch?”
The older children shrugged. “There were a whole bunch of them,” Karim said, trying to be helpful.
Ellie pinpointed the sound: It came from behind a closed door on her left. Even as she paused to make certain, there came one last plaintive squeal followed by the distinctive whoomp of a sprite going ember. She flung open the door and rushed into a chamber so dark that she immediately spotted the orange glow of the baby sprite, which took one look at her and ran, igniting a swath of dangling fabric as it disappeared beneath a large piece of furniture.
With one flying leap, Ellie caught up the cloth and beat out the flame with her gloved hands, then sprawled on the floor and shoved herself under what seemed to be a bed. In the pulsing glow of the sprite she saw a stray sock and a pair of men’s bedroom slippers. The baby sprite cowered against the wall, well out of her reach, igniting unlucky dust bunnies with bright little flares.
Ellie scooted toward it using her elbows, shoving the cage and spray bottle ahead of her, kicking and wriggling to force certain portions of her anatomy into the tight space, and losing both shoes in the process. “It’s okay, little one,” she assured the sprite breathlessly while moving her bottle into position. It hissed and crackled in reply. Once ignited, sprites were not so cute. Their big eyes glowed red, and their furry bodies looked like coals in a bonfire.
A quick spray, a softer hiss, and the tiny sprite dissolved into a puddle. “Rafiq,” she said, “would you bring me my pack, please?”
“Sure, Ellie,” he said. Ellie thought she heard giggles from the children. Only then did she realize how unladylike was her position despite the once-piece coverall she wore while working.
“Do my feet look funny, sticking out from under the bed?” she asked, then sneezed, smacking her chin on the floor below and rebounding her head into the bed frame above. “Oh, ouch!” she moaned. “It’s dusty under here!”
The giggles became much louder, and Ellie distinctly heard and felt something move on the bed above her. Were the children bouncing up there? Springs squeaked, and feet thumped on the floor. She heard whispers and more laughter. “Rafiq, did you find my pack? Can you please slide my scoop to me?”
“Here it is,” the boy said, easily scooting under the bed alongside her. She took the pack and awkwardly felt around in it for her scoop. “Where’s the sprite?” Rafiq asked, peering around in the shadows.
The room suddenly got much brighter; someone had pushed open the draperies.
“Right here.” Ellie carefully scooped up a limp, gooey lump that bore no resemblance to the lively creature it had been only moments before.
“Eew, yuck,” the boy said, and quickly backed away. “It stinks worse than the others did.”
“Sulfur,” Ellie told him. “This spray isn’t very effective against the smell. Now can you look in the sack and find my other spray bottle, please? It fixes things.”
More whispering and giggles above, and again the bed springs creaked. What were those kids doing up there?
She reached back her hand, and Rafiq laid the bottle in her palm then scooted out from under the bed, complaining loudly about the stink. Thinking of her favorite flower, Ellie sprayed the sticky place on the floor where the sprite had been, and the smell transformed into a faint scent of carnations while the stain disappeared. Now to back out of this very tight place, bringing along the cage and two bottles. She squirmed and shimmied carefully backward, shoving and pulling her tools across the floor. It was quiet in the room. Had the children run off?
But after her kicking legs had emerged and she had to work harder to fit her hips under the bed frame, the giggles started all over again. She suddenly felt hot enough to “go ember” like a sprite herself. “Yes, I know, I’m too big to fit. But I did it, you must admit.” She squeezed the top half of herself into open air then rolled over and sat up, blinking in a ray of direct sunlight. Seeing Rita’s feet dangling off the bed beside her, she pulled off her gloves, reached out and caught one little shoe to make the child giggle, then froze.
And slowly turned her head.
Only inches away, a pair of big, dark eyes gazed at her from the edge of the bed. He lay flat on his belly with his stubbled chin resting on his brown hands. Glossy black hair stood out at all angles from his head.
“Good morning, Miss Ellie,” said Prince Omar with a smile. “I hear you’ve just rescued me from a fiery death.”
When Omar awoke to find younger siblings crawling over and around him, his first reaction was to shout—but a hand covered his mouth before a sound emerged. “Ellie the magic-creature lady is under your bed,” whispered Yasmine. “Please don’t scare her away.”
Ellie? I must be dreaming, he thought. But the stink of sulfur and the sound of Ellie’s muffled voice snuffed that idea. He pulled his sister’s hand away and whispered the obvious question: “Why is she under my bed?”
“She’s catching a cinder sprite that lit your sheets on fire.”
Ellie Calmer is under my bed, he thought. No, it couldn’t be. But when he heard Ellie speak again then sneeze, and something bumped the bed from beneath, he threw off the blanket and sat upright, blood racing through his veins, while his little siblings snorted and giggled.
“What?” he hissed, running one hand over his hair. Then panic struck. He wore only a pair of pajama pants covered in smiling green sea monsters, a gag gift from his sister Layla. Carefully he climbed out of bed and tiptoed across to where his white robe hung on a hook. While he tied its belt around his waist, Rafiq hissed to draw his attention, pointed at a pair of bare feet sticking out from beneath the hanging coverlet, then pointed at Omar and pantomimed laughing.
Even he knew about Omar’s hopeless crush. Great.
Ellie asked Rafiq if he was coming, and the little terror slithered under the bed, taking with him the pack Omar recognized as Ellie’s. Sunlight struck Omar’s face, making him wince—Yasmine was pushing open the heavy drapes. It was broad daylight. How late had he slept? His clothes were scattered across the room, and his travel bag lay open near the foot of the bed. He snatched up a sock and his jeans, then dropped them in a heap. What a disaster zone! He was a mess.
He couldn’t just stand here in his robe and watch Ellie scoot out from under his bed. Should he pretend to be asleep? She would never believe it. He hurried to climb back on the bed. Rita and Karim bounced up to join him again, giggling like little maniacs.