CHAPTER 1
"Why don't they show themselves? Damn faeries." SaidMaggie O'Malley. She was sick of Suzy, from two housesover, being so bossy, and tired of Bobby, from down the street, was introuble again. His parents knew Maggie was the mastermind; she wasthe one to convince him to set a frog on Ms. Jenkins' chair, but he wasin trouble nonetheless, in hopes that he would get fed up with beingpunished and therefore tire of playing with Maggie.
Which is why Maggie was by herself, looking for faeries. She knewthey existed, she knew it like she knew green was green, and up was upand round was round. There were some things that just were and oneof them was the existence of faeries. Her patience however was beingtested at the moment since she could not find a single trace. Each bladeof grass went under her magnifying glass, the flowers gently combedand the garden beds inspected; but nothing. Thoroughly frustrated, andwith the sun beginning to set, she decided it was time to call it quits.In a show of stubbornness and independence rare for a nine-year-oldgirl, Maggie had rummaged through the garage until she'd found theold camping tent and set it up in the yard. She looked at it now with amixture of excitement and perhaps a bit of anxiety, their acres of landwere not fully fenced and she'd heard the coyotes howl in the distance.Calculating in her mind, she determined it to be only fifty yards fromthe back door of the house and then reminded herself that her father,Robert, had insisted on giving her one of the walkie-talkies. If a coyotecame too close or if the faeries were to try and abduct her, she had herfather at the press of a button. Giving the garden, with its fruit trees,vegetables and flowers of every shape and size, one last glance sheclimbed into the tent, zipping it up behind her.
Robert and his daughter both had the same thick dark brown hair,so dark it was almost black and the same startling blue eyes. Maggieshared the light complexion of her father and a sprinkle of freckles acrossher nose made her lovelier. Maggie's mother, Matilda, had green eyes,and her skin a darker tone but her long hair was just as dark as that ofher husband and daughter.
Maggie wore her hair down, always somewhat messy and alwayssomewhat in her eyes. After it became clear Maggie would not take careof her clothes when she was out romping around, Matilda bought anarmy of blue jeans and a rainbow of plain T-shirts for Maggie to playin, leaving a couple of nice outfits for when they went to events. Onthese special occasions, the littlest O'Malley was never too thrilled tohave her jeans taken away, a battle Matilda would have to gear up for.
Lying in her sleeping bag Maggie again tried to decide what faeriesmight actually look like. Were they the faeries from the flower books?With wings and pastel colors? Or were they more human, like the onesin her mother's stories? The saccharine sweet faeries bored her, but themore human ones seemed overly sinister. They were real to her whenMatilda told her stories; these faeries that did not fly so much as appearand disappear. These faeries that were sometimes noble and other timesterrifying, excited Maggie, and as she zoomed her flashlight across theceiling of the tent she pretended they were out there, in the dark, doingsomething fun and dangerous.
* * *
As it turns out, the O'Malley's yard was being occupied bya faerie. Had Maggie pointed her flashlight a few yards tothe left and down behind the apple tree, she would have seen MissyWendolyn Brightwing; small, even for a faerie, standing not more thannine inches tall. Her wings, when she chose to show them, were goldlike her hair, with oranges and yellows woven finely through. Maggiewould have been surprised to find that faeries are a little of everythingshe'd seen or heard; humanoid, but more brilliant in color than thosein her faerie flower books. They were enchanting, eccentric, frighteningand lovely. Had Maggie been allowed to wander through the meadow inthe back of their ten acres, she would have been very close to one of theportals to Faerie. It didn't look like much, actually it looked like nothingat all because the hole at the base of a giant redwood to a human wouldlook just like that, a hole at the base of a giant redwood. Maggie, though,was not allowed to wander the back acres of the O'Malley property, orat least, not without an adult. It was rare to have a parent Not Busy andif they were Not Busy then usually they were Doing Something Else,which they would insist was different from being Busy.
Missy Wendolyn Brightwing was wondering how she could possiblyfinish her job with this horrible obtrusion. She studied the tent andreassured herself it was not a monster. She'd seen the little girl walk inand out of it; surely it was not a monster.
The little girl intrigued Wendolyn. There was something familiarabout her; she could sense it, her body reverberated with a twang.Tossing her bright gold hair out of the way, she decided she'd have towait until the little girl fell asleep to finish her task.
Wendolyn's chief job was to gather pollen of various kinds to makefaerie coins and the sort she needed at the moment was much tooclose to the humans for her taste. It was the only garden with the bestvarieties of flowers; not just the average roses, jasmine, daisies and blackeyed susans but also tulips and lilies of every type, wisteria drippedfrom fences, bushes of lavender, both English and French, daffodilsand crocus, iris and flowering maples. Wendolyn loved this gardenand would often visit just to eat a few raspberries or to pick a lemon.She would only come at night, when the humans were in their beds,but tonight the little girl was out at night, or inside what seemed to bea portable bedroom. This was the closet she'd ever gotten to a humanbefore, and it made her nervous.
All faeries avoided humans unless, of course, they were bored.Faeries can have a wicked sense of humor and humans with their slowthinking and flare for the dramatic were wonderful playthings for thebored faerie. This is not to say that faeries do not have human friends;on the contrary, especially in older countries, faeries have great humanfriends and those friends are very happy about the alliance. Faeries arefiercely loyal and vicious fighters, a plus for humans in trouble.
* * *
"You expect me to believe that?" I ask. What Juniper andI have is no friendship, it is more a master and servantdynamic.
She looks at me like I'm subhuman. "Of course." She says and goeson brushing her perfectly silky brick red hair.
Juniper is ethereal, but then, she is a faerie. She doesn't have wings,or if she does they are hidden. I kind of don't want to see them, it seemsa little too fantastical and I'm not ready for that. She looks human, Imean, she's roughly my height, and has two arms, legs and one head,but there is something magnetizing about her, people stare at her whenwe walk down the street together. She has delicate features, is gracefulin action and her clothes are a mix of lace, leather and every color in therainbow. Need a purple shirt or a blue skirt? Her style is impeccable.Right now she's wearing tight leather pants and an avocado green tunicshirt with a thick black belt. With her red hair she looks like a rockgoddess.
I watch her, her fingers combing through the long strands and apang courses through my body. She is like all the pretty girls, a totalbitch. I want to brush her off but then she pulls me in. Is it magic?Curiosity? I've never met a faerie before, and she is but isn't what I'dexpect. Not that I'm making any sense. Maybe it's the vodka, we've runout of mixer and I've been sipping it straight for half an hour. Junipercould drink me under the table; I have to be careful around her. To myone she has three and doesn't show it.
"Hi? Hello? Where did you go, silly Charlotte?" Juniper waves herhand in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"I want to go out. Let's go somewhere, one of those dance clubs."She says.
"Are you kidding?" I ask. "I hate dance clubs. They play horriblemusic and everyone's gyrating, and lets face it, straight up dry humping.And it always smells like kitty litter and ass."
Juniper looks at me puzzled. "I don't know that."
"Kitty litter?"
"No, the other, dry ..."
"Humping, you know, it's like, uh, having sex but with your clotheson so you're not actually Doing It?"
Juniper looks at me horrified. "That sounds stupid. Anduncomfortable."
I sigh. "It is."
Juniper jumps up and claps her hands once, as if to commandattention. "We are going and we will watch these stupid humans dothis thing and it will be fun."
She turns to me, "They will have this vodka right?"
I snort, of course she thinks of alcohol. "Can you at least leave mealone for an hour? I'm writing this for you after all."
She actually has the temerity to stomp into my room and slam mydoor.
Just as I'm hunkering down to get some writing done the telephonerings. Caller ID says it's my sister. Okay. I'll answer, talk for ten minutesand then get back to writing. Yeah, fucking right. I can never go lessthen half an hour with Joan, and I don't even remember what we talkabout.
"He-he-ey. What's-su-up?" I say into the phone.
Joan sighs a long I'm-calling-to-check-in-on-you-for-mom type ofsigh.
"Hi Char, how's it going?"
I look at my bedroom door and picture Juniper trying on mymake up.
"W-well, it's b-bbeen interesting. I ha-aave a new r-rr-oom mate."
"Oh? Well, that's good." Joan is genuinely surprised.
Ah-ha, derailed her. "You didn't tell me you were getting aroommate."
Thinking of that night at Flannigan's I answer, "I-i-it wasun-unexpected."
"I talked to Mom last night—and before you cut me off—you knowhow she worries. Seriously, I tell her you're fine but well, you know her.She thinks you hole yourself up and don't get out enough."
It's my turn to sigh. "I-I-I know."
"But this'll cheer her up. Can I tell her details? Can I get details?"
What to tell her? That she's a faerie that suckered me into writing anovel for her and has completely taken over my life?
"Sh-she's a new f-ffriend, l-l-likes my music b-bbut doesn't cl-clcleanup."
"That's it?" I can tell Joan is miffed. I usually tell her everything.
"F-f-for now."
The conversation meanders the way it always does, we laugh, wefight a little and then after another twenty minutes we hang up afterlove yas and g'byes.
Do you notice something? Yeah. Like the King's Speech has nothingon me because I can't get over it, unless I'm talking to Juniper. I'm clearas a bell with her and it's nice to have my words come out so easily. Mymom worries because she thinks it's the stutter that makes me unsocial,she worries that I won't find someone to marry and have her grandkids.Maybe that's true, honestly I haven't figured it out.
Of course I was expecting Juniper to be eavesdropping on me andsure enough as soon as I click off she comes in.
"Who was that?"
"None of your business." I turn to get my hat and coat from thecoat stand.
"Tell me!"
Ugh. "It was my sister, Joan."
Juniper heads for the shelf where pictures of my family sit in variousframes.
"She's pretty."
"Yes. My brother is the funny one and I'm the smart one."
Juniper raises her eyebrow. "If you're the smart one, these two mustbe seriously mentally challenged."
"So funny I forgot to laugh."
I walk over to the pictures. There is one of the three of us smiling,arms around each other. It was taken right before I left for the Big City,at the last family function of the summer.
"Joan is smart too, and so is Gilly, but that's how Dad categorizedus. That way he knew how to 'deal' with us ... he's not much for wordsor affection. I think it has been harder on Joan then me."
I walk to the door, ready to open it.
"I never had siblings."
I turn to her.
"How lonely for you." I reply.
"Well, My parents were great, so fun and kind. I don't remembermuch except it was fun."
"But you faeries all live together, so you had friends right?"
"Oh, well, yes. I didn't ... I had a special situation when I wasyoung."
"Really?" I ask. Despite myself I'm always interested.
But she changes the topic. "We eat then we go to the dance club.But not before I pick something out for you to wear. Yes?" She asks butreally kind of tells me.
I sigh. "Yeah, sure, whatever." Never mind that I have to get up inthe morning and go to work.
* * *
Missy Wendolyn pulled back her hair from her eyes and beganto fix a hole in her stockings.
She sang softly to herself to help the time go by. A song passed downthrough generations and roughly twenty-three verses long. With thechorus repeated between each verse the song lasted a good two hoursin human time, which, for a faerie, was no time at all.
After the first couple of verses she felt peacefulness ebbing from thelittle girl guessing that the child had fallen into a deep sleep. StealthilyWendolyn made her way to the flowers. Again, as she neared the tent herbody began to reverberate, and she knew there was something differentabout this child.
Picking the pollen for the coins was not easy and Missy Wendolynspent years apprenticing under Master Lightleaf. Wendolyn was a smartfaerie she learned quickly and could memorize spells after one look.She was young for her job but had shown such promise that MasterLightleaf himself taught her. He rarely did that before retiring but heknew she was a gifted student and deserved his time. She shrunk downsmall enough to fit into the flowers and gently did her job all the whilethinking of the girl. The flowers were not far from where the girl slept soWendolyn could still feel the odd tingles. She wished she had someoneto talk it over with, to share it because she'd never experienced such athing. In the old country, so she'd been told, faeries and humans hadmingled regularly; there were many half—breeds. She herself had nevermet one but figured she'd feel the same tingles that she felt right now.Not that she herself looked much different from humans but they werejust so ... non-magical. There was intrigue about humans for sure butsince her people had come to this country they'd made a clear pointto stay away from them. Humans had the tendency to make situationsvery complicated.
What if though, there had been a tryst betwixt human and faerie?Was this child the product of passionate faerie/human relations?Suddenly realizing she had almost killed the flower by extracting toomuch pollen, she cursed herself and put her questions aside. They wouldhave to wait for now she had to focus on the task at hand.
* * *
Maggie opened her eyes to the early morning sun making thetent glow. If she slit her eyes she could pretend she wasn'tin a tent at all but in an ethereal vortex.
("What's that?" I ask Juniper.
"It's what we call the In-Between." She answers. Like I wouldunderstand that?
"Well, what does that mean?" I ask.
"The part you have to travel through to get to Faerie from here orto get here from there." She answers.
Okay.)
As Maggie lay, slowly waking up, she tried to remember a dreamshe had, but it was vague and elusive, and soon she began to wonder ifshe'd had it at all. Something about gold ... what was it?
Shuffling into the house she met with her parents in the kitchen.As far as parents go, Maggie thought hers were pretty cool, thoughsometimes a bit too—well—cool. She sometimes wished they weren't,so she could rebel a little more. This didn't mean she didn't get intotrouble; Maggie was the kind of kid that got in trouble a lot, but usuallyby teachers, or other people's parents. She was the kind of girl no oneseemed to relate to, no one except her parents.
"Maggie how was last night?" asked her father, after he gave her abig hug.
"I didn't see any faeries, if that's what you mean."
Her mother looked as disappointed as she, and this was one of themany reasons Maggie loved her mother. It was Matilda's stories thatinspired Maggie's own imagination. Her mother had a way of pullingyou into her stories so that they seemed real, the people or faeries werereal, as real as she was sitting there with her parents.
