A Dark and Twisting Road

By Melody Taylor

Alexa is one of the lucky ones.

 

When the faeries kidnapped her and tricked her into an unwilling marriage to a fae lord, she eventually managed to escape.

 

In the years since her ordeal, Alexa has learned every trick she can to avoid being taken back. She's done her best to build something resembling a normal life: a college degree, a good career, and no faeries. "Normal" seems impossible, though – especially when her kidnappers appear to be harmless myths to anyone who's never dealt with the fae.

 

When Alexa discovers that her best friend, Dinah, has been replaced by a changeling, her worst nightmares come true. All too aware what Dinah could be suffering at the hands of the faeries, Alexa realizes she has no choice.

 

She's the only one who can go into Faerie and get Dinah back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melody Taylor
• Release date: Nov 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540138668

Book preview

A Dark and Twisting Road

The Fields Beyond Book One

Melody Taylor

Copyright 2015 Melody Taylor

Ebook Edition

Cover design EmCat Designs

Author Photo Dimitri Rain

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, businesses, or incidences is purely coincidental.

All the books in The Fields Beyond series can be found here: melodytaylorauthor.com/the-fields-beyond-series/

Free ebooks are good, right? Get yourself one here! A free copy of Before the Dark! Unavailable in stores! melodytaylorauthor.com/free-copy-of-before-the-dark

This book is dedicated to the phenomenal community of people that surrounds me, musicians, dancers, painters, actors, writers, readers, and crazy artists of all stripes. You guys make my world go ’round.

Table of Contents

Title Page

The Other Side of The Mirror

Trail of Breadcrumbs

Cinder Girl

Guess My Name

Clap if You Believe in Faeries

Swan’s Wing

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety Jig

Author’s Note

The Other Side of the Mirror

Not While I’m at Work

My flash drive was gone.

I turned away from my desk for less than a minute to talk to IT about my dead computer, and when I turned back, the flash drive was gone. For several seconds, all I could do was stare at the empty spot with my mouth falling open. I thought I had a distinct memory of the flash drive sitting on my desk. So either my memory was wrong and I’d left it somewhere else – or my memory was right and the flash drive had been taken.

I reached up to tug at the iron key I wore on a cord around my neck, reminding myself it had been years – almost fifteen now – since anything bad had happened. Whether it was my key or something else, everything had been quiet for a long time. I hadn’t even seen any of Them in months. Possibly a year. I dropped the key back down the front of my blouse.

With a sudden sense of urgency, I tried my computer again, control alt delete, turned it off, unplugged it. The maddening blank blue screen continued to stare at me no matter how many times I tried any of the standard procedures. That was the extent of my computer knowledge. I just had to wait for IT.

I searched my cubicle for my backup flash drive one more time, just in case I really didn’t remember where I’d left it. I went so far as to get on my knees to crawl all the way under my desk. Nothing. Not even the dust-bunnies I’d expected.

Then I backtracked. Even though the sinking feeling in my gut told me it was pointless. Down the hallway. Stopping by Katie’s cubicle to make small talk. Sorry, Alexa, she said to me. I haven’t seen any flash drive. I’ll keep my eyes open. Drink of water at the cooler. Back to Dave’s office where I’d picked the flash drive up in the first place. It’s not here, he said. I’m sure I gave it to you. No one had brought it back to him. The flash drive was gone, gone, gone. I didn’t thunk my head against the wall outside my cubicle, but I wanted to.

Out of options. I knew what to do. I just didn’t want to go through with it. I took a deep breath and weighed my choices. Let’s see . . . I could let the flash drive stay lost and lose the entire week’s work, all of which was due first thing tomorrow. I could cross my fingers, screw my eyes tight shut and wish really, really hard for it to turn up. Or I could use my ace in the hole and have it back in an hour.

Resigned, I scooped a couple quarters out of the change dish on my desk and left for the break room.

I stood in front of the vending machines for a long time. Chocolate, peanuts, pretzels, fruit? I wasn’t sure if the decision mattered or just seemed to, or if my thinking it mattered made it so. Finally I decided on pretzels, since they were closest to bread and people always used bread in the old stories. Last time, I used chocolate on the reasoning that I liked it, why wouldn’t anyone else? The time before that, an apple, because everyone should eat healthier. Both times had worked. If there was logic there, I didn’t follow it. I plunked my quarters in and took my snack back to my cubicle.

Asking outright is against the rules. Who made the rules and why, I do not know. But I know them, some of them, and that’s one. You can’t ask. I opened the pretzels, set the bag on my desk and cleared my throat.

So this flash drive that I’ve been looking for. I normally wouldn’t need it all that badly, but my computer is dead and I really, really need that flash drive right now. And I can’t find it anywhere. If I can’t find it, I could get in trouble, maybe even get written up. Jeannie’s an understanding boss, but the possibility exists.

After I’d finished my little speech, I turned to check that no one had heard me talking to myself in my cubicle. The few people near me were engrossed in their own work. Good. With the open bag of pretzels in the middle of my desk, I left my cubicle.

I went for a walk around the halls. I would have walked outside, but the weather was crap, a horrid Wisconsin pre-spring day, cold and cloudy. I pressed a hand to a chilly window and looked out at the weather. In another month it would be warm enough to pack up my gear and head into the woods for the weekends. It couldn’t get here soon enough for me.

With a sigh, I left the window. I walked the halls a while, at first trying to forget about the flash drive, trying not to worry, trying not to think of what I’d resorted to in order to get it back. I had to lap the entire building at least twice before I finally caught myself not thinking about the problem.

I turned around and headed back for my cubicle.

The pretzels were missing from my desk. In their place sat a small red plastic flash drive. I snatched the little device up and kissed it.

Enjoy those pretzels, I said to the air.

I would have said thank you. Midwesterners are very big on thank you, thank you for everything, even thanks for thanking us. But that’s another rule. You can’t say thank you. You can bribe or offer rewards or express appreciation, but you must never, ever thank.

Relieved, I plugged the flash drive into my laptop and proceeded to back up my work. The progress bar on my screen had almost filled when I started to feel stupid. Stupid and a little unsafe.

I reached up and pulled my antique iron key out of my blouse, clutching the warm metal tight enough in my fist to leave a red mark on my palm. My hands trembled.

The last time I had struck this bargain, I had promised myself that I wouldn’t do it again. Not ever. Not for any reason. And yet here I was, doing it again. Doing it quickly, easily, even if my stomach fluttered thinking about it, actually doing it had been no problem.

Bargaining with the faeries.

My grandma used to say the Gentry followed my family because of our red hair and green eyes, but I don’t think that’s the whole reason. Gramma had auburn hair and green eyes like me, but my dad’s hair is black. Sometimes she said They followed our family over from Ireland, but I don’t know why the Folk would do something like that or why They’d stick around like They have. Some of our ancestors came from Ireland, but more came from Germany and England. Sometimes my grandma said that They had always followed us, and They would leave when They felt like it. That makes the most sense to me. Trying to understand The Gentry is futile. No matter how much They look or act it, They aren’t human.

My cubicle faerie is at least reasonably simple. So far. I’ve never seen the hob, but I know it’s there. It likes to keep things tidy and organized. It likes a little appreciation now and again. It’ll do favors in exchange for extra attention, like fetching back lost objects in exchange for a treat. Sometimes it takes said lost object in the first place, looking for a little extra love. That’s annoying, but it’s hard to resist, especially when a candy bar that costs fifty cents is all it wants.

Still. I said I wouldn’t deal with Them again. I said I wouldn’t deal with Them again the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. Somehow, something really important kept cropping up. I knew They had probably created at least some of those problems, and I knew I was asking for more of the same by giving in. When it came down to refusing to give in this time, all I could think was, Really. I’m supposed to risk getting written up in order to avoid giving a hob a bag of pretzels?

And last time I had to risk a lawsuit to avoid giving it a chocolate bar.

My father would have said better a lawsuit than Little People. Anything to avoid Their attention. He had a point. But as much as I knew what he meant and why he said it, I couldn’t bring myself to go through with that kind of trouble. Still clutching my key, I dropped back into my chair and tried to breathe through the shaking.

Alexa, you finished with the department numbers?

Jeannie. Popping her head into my cubicle. The contrast of bargaining with a faerie and my supervisor checking my progress made me feel like I had banged my head and sent the world reeling to one side, which made me a little dizzy, which made me a little nauseated. I put both hands on my desk, trying not to look like I was hanging onto solid objects for sanity.

My computer crashed, I said, hoping she would take my tone for frustration. Once I finish backing up the records to my laptop I’ll be ready to crunch.

Jeannie nodded. I’ll get IT up here. She kept going down the hall, oblivious to how shaken I was. Or at least oblivious enough, which worked for me. I don’t care if people notice I act a little off from time to time, as long as they or I can chalk my behavior up to something mundane.

The task bar finished filling, alerting me that my backup had reached one hundred per cent. I hadn’t had a chance to go over the data as thoroughly as I wanted, but I could print a copy of the numbers to check and frankly, I’m a good accountant. Numbers stick in my head. I didn’t need to look at the work more to know what to do with it.

With the flash drive securely attached to its lanyard around my neck, I settled back into my chair and tried to focus on being a good accountant. And promised myself that next time I might have to bargain with the fae, I would just hang.

A Sure Way Back

We should go play at my house.

Alexa thought about that suggestion, gazing out at the muddy ruin her backyard had become. The weather had finally warmed up enough that she could go outside without a whole snowsuit on. But with her mother’s warning not to get dirty and the state of the yard, it hardly seemed worth the wait.

It’s summer at my house, Pickwicken pressed.

Alexa didn’t answer right away. Pickwicken was one of Them. The Good Folk. She knew because he’d told her himself, and given her permission to see him in his true form. Not that his true form was all that different from the little-boy form everyone else saw. His clothes looked stranger, like Peter Pan; green tights and a long green shirt, everything sort of leafy, as if it had all been sewn from fabric made to look like leaves than like actual leaves. He was a little skinny and his face looked a little – pointy, if a face could be pointy. He was tall for his age, which he said was about the same as hers, though Gramma said They didn’t age the same way people did.

Her grandma had told her the stories. Dad laughed about them, but Gramma knew what she was talking about. Gramma said never go with Them unless you had a sure way back and were positive of Their intentions. Alexa had to ask what intentions were. It turned out to be a fancy way of saying what someone wanted to do. Alexa knew what Pickwicken wanted to do. He wanted to play with her My Little Ponies, maybe braid her hair once he’d done all the ponies’ manes and tails. For a boy, he liked playing with ponies and doing hair a lot.

That sure way back, though – Alexa knew what that meant, and she didn’t think she had one. At the same time, the mud that filled the yard made her think a sure way back couldn’t be that tough.

Maybe, she said out loud.

Pickwicken jumped up from where he’d been sitting in the mud himself, with no orders about dirt stopping him. We’ll have so much fun, he promised, grabbing up Alexa’s hand. Lots of grass for the ponies to eat, flowers to braid in your hair, and the pixies will teach us new songs. Not like this. He gestured at the filthy yard.

Alexa looked her friend over, her mouth tight. His green eyes sparked with hope.

I need to have a sure way back. Alexa tried to sound serious, like her mother telling her she had to clean her room no matter how much she didn’t want to.

Of course, of course, Pickwicken said. I promise. Just so you’ll come play with me!

I have to be home for supper tonight, Alexa added, remembering stories of people going with Them just to visit, only coming home years and years later.

That’s harder. Pickwicken pouted a little.

Alexa shrugged. I have to or I’ll get in trouble. Otherwise I can’t go.

He rolled his eyes. Okay, okay. Home for supper tonight.

And I need to know your intentions.

Pickwicken clapped his hands. To feed the ponies grass and make them nicker with joy and to braid a rainbow of flowers into your hair and to teach you songs with naughty words in them!

Alexa blinked. "There’re songs with naughty words in them?" She wasn’t a baby, she knew bad words, even the F word. But songs with those words in them? That, she wanted to hear.

Bunches, Pickwicken told her. I can even tell you what they mean.

That sounded interesting.

And you promise all that other stuff? she asked.

Pickwicken drew an X over his heart with his finger. A sure way back, home in time for supper tonight, and my intentions. Yes. If you will come to my home and be my playmate.

For the afternoon, Alexa added.

Be my playmate for the afternoon, Pickwicken quickly agreed.

But we’re still friends, Alexa assured him. Just because I only promise for this afternoon doesn’t mean you can’t come over again. Right?

Of course. I know you can only promise for a little while at a time.

With another look at the yard, Alexa made up her mind. All right. We can go to your house. Help me carry my ponies.

With glee! Pickwicken said. He scooped up his favorites from the small patch of dry ground they’d been trying to play on, treating her toys as gently as if they belonged to him.

You say some weird stuff, Alexa told him.

Her skinny, girly friend stopped and gave her an odd look. Do I?

His expression made Alexa sorry she’d said anything. No. Not really. Just stuff I never heard before. What’s ‘with glee’ mean?

Glee is happiness. If you do something with glee, you do it with great happiness.

Oh.

Pickwicken always explained things like that to her, more like her grandma and less like her parents. Mom and Dad laughed about the things she asked, like she was still a baby. They said how cute she was for asking. It got very annoying. At least she had a friend like Pickwicken.

Can I carry Blossom? he asked, holding his hand out for the purple pony.

Okay, but I want Firefly. They swapped ponies, then Pickwicken led the way to the old oak at the edge of the yard. Alexa followed, carefully balancing colorful My Little Ponies so she wouldn’t drop one and hurt its feelings.

All we must do is go backwards around the oak three times. Can you do that? Pickwicken asked.

Alexa rolled her eyes. Duh. Anybody can walk backwards.

Pickwicken stuck his tongue out at her. Without waiting for her, he started around the tree. Alexa tried to hurry to keep up and nearly tripped. She wouldn’t have if the ground hadn’t been muddy and Pickwicken hadn’t been going so fast. Trying to make her live up to her words.

After a few steps she caught up. Pickwicken narrowed his eyes playfully and picked up his pace; Alexa scurried to keep up, trying not to fall over. Laughing, Pickwicken went faster, throwing one hand out for balance. Alexa refused to be outdone and hurried with him. Laughing and stumbling they circled the tree, finally staggering and tripping over their own feet as they completed the third time around.

They fell on soft, green grass, dry and thick and warm. My Little Ponies scattered from their arms, landing all around them. As the ponies hit the ground, they each gave a little snort and head shake, then trotted away through the lush grass before they began to graze. The grass blades reached almost to the ponies’ heads. Watching them tear up one giant blade of grass at a time made Alexa laugh.

Beside her, Pickwicken reached out and tickled her side. He never tickled and tickled and tickled until it started to hurt, like some of the boys at school. He always just tickled enough to make her giggle and stopped.

Isn’t this better?

Alexa rolled onto her belly to look around at the cozy forest meadow they had fallen into. Bright flowers grew all around; trees bordered the edge of the meadow, making it feel like a big outdoor room. Small colorful ponies nickered and grazed. The few winged ponies actually took off and fluttered around. Alexa shrugged her coat off in the warm air.

Yes. This is tons better.

Good, Pickwicken said. Now, who shall we start with? How about Blossom? Blossom, come here, girl. Let us braid your tail.

The tiny purple pony with the flowers painted onto her butt tossed her head and trotted over to them. Pickwicken righted himself in the grass, settling in cross-legged. Blossom turned around and faced her butt to Pickwicken, presenting her tail for braiding. Alexa stretched out to watch.

Good girl, Pickwicken said. What would you like today? How about a love knot?

The pony bowed her head in agreement, and Pickwicken started. What he called braiding was actually something much fancier and more beautiful than a simple three-strand braid. Alexa usually let Pickwicken do the braiding while she watched. She’d tried a few times to learn from him, but the designs were tricky and she couldn’t get her fingers to make the right patterns. So she watched his quick fingers fly, knowing her ponies would have beautiful tails when her friend had finished with them.

Yep, she said. This is way better than at my house.

Pesky

Mom called me on my lunch break. She does this every day, to ask me how my day is, to ask me what I’m eating, to ask if I have plans for the evening. I know how to pack a nutritious lunch and how to manage my puny social life, I really do, but she worries.

I’m making pot roast for supper tonight if you want to come over, she said after the usual small talk. She has a fabulous recipe for pot roast that simply makes my mouth water thinking about it.

I gazed out the window near my cubicle and watched as a few fat flakes of snow began to drift past outside. I’d love to, Mom, but I’m meeting Dad for supper. Will you have leftovers tomorrow?

She hesitated. Whenever I mention my father, she hesitates. In a truly non-vindictive and entirely fascinated way, I mention him often. I haven’t exactly worked out why she hesitates. I have my guesses, but Mom certainly won’t tell me. She won’t even admit that she does it.

Um, yes, I’ll have leftovers, I’m sure, she finally came up with. You know how much that recipe makes. I’d love to see you tomorrow. Same bat-time, same bat-channel?

I laughed as I turned back to my computer. Sounds . . . bat-tastic, I tried out. I got a playful groan for my effort.

Mom said something about me saying hi to Dad for her when I saw him, which should have been important and I should have pounced on and asked about, but I missed exactly what she said. As she started talking, a tiny little naked woman with butterfly wings crawled over the top of my computer monitor.

Pixie.

Shit.

The naked little woman swung her legs over the top of the monitor and dropped so she dangled in front of the screen, her naked little butt aimed my direction. I resisted making any sort of sound, though I wanted to hiss through my teeth. It had turned into one of Those days.

They happened from time to time, when all the fae I had hoped to push out of my life would decide to crowd in and make things miserable for a little while. Then They would fade into the background again, leaving me uselessly hoping that maybe They’d gone for good this time.

First my cubicle hob, and now this little pixie, gazing at my computer screen like it was the coolest thing she’d seen in years if only she could figure it out. IT had just straightened the damn thing out. Not. Good.

Gotta go, Mom, I said into the phone. Sorry. Love you. I’ll call you later.

Be good, my mom said as I hung up the phone. Like I said, she worries.

Not necessarily about the right things.

With a quick glance at the pixie, I turned away from my computer. I kept one shoulder turned towards her, shielding my actions, and reached into my drawer to pull out a paper clip. The shoulder-turn attracted her attention like I hoped. She glanced over at me. I turned my shoulder a little more, giving her a small frown. Her tiny little brows puckered together.

Keeping myself firmly between her and the paper clip, I gazed down at it. With a little chortle to myself I bent the paper clip out of shape and examined its new look. I tweaked it a bit, then checked to see if I had my unwanted visitor’s attention.

I did. She had hopped off my computer monitor now and stood on my desk, staring at me with a combination of indignation and demand. I tightened my lips. She took a step closer. I jerked open my drawer, shoved the paper clip in and slammed the drawer shut. I made a ha, showed you face at her, then went back to work at my computer. I made sure to cast unsurreptitious glances at the drawer followed by worried looks at the tiny woman.

She frowned, puzzled, looking at me, at the drawer, and back again. I gave her a wide-eyed warning look, then hesitantly kept working. Every few seconds I glanced at the drawer, waiting a little longer in between each glance.

Finally she took the bait. I worked for almost two minutes solid before glancing at the drawer again – and found it hanging open, no pixie in sight. A quick check showed my drawer entirely devoid of paper clips of any size, shape, or level of bentness. I made sure to slam my drawer shut and mope a bit over the loss of my office supplies before I dragged myself back to work. Most faeries like to know They’ve upset someone when They take off with pilfered stuff.

I left myself a note to grab some more paper clips from the supply closet before going back to the department numbers. I did not dare to hope that I’d had my fill of fae encounters for the day.

A helluva snowstorm must have been moving in. Things like that get Them riled up. They love anything out of the ordinary: heavy storms, wildfires, redheads, children with unusual names, blue-eyed cats. Then again, sometimes They completely ignore things like that and go for bent paper clips or My Little Ponies.

There’s no rational explanation for any of Their behavior as far as I can tell. I don’t think They’re rational in any way a human could understand. Figuring out some of the rules and how to deal with a few of the problems They pose does not equal understanding Them.

There is no understanding Them.

Uninvited

So there’s Moondancer done. Pickwicken took his hands from the pony’s tail.

The tiny unicorn flicked her newly braided tail, looking around her chubby butt to see it. She gave a satisfied nod and trotted off to where the other living toys played and grazed in the meadow.

Alexa watched her, wishing she knew the trick to make the ponies alive. As soon as she took them home, they turned back into plastic and no amount of petting or offered treats could wake them up. At least their tails still looked pretty.

Who’s next? Pickwicken asked.

As he spoke, a shadow blocked the light over the ponies. Alexa looked up in time to see Malthiar bend down and scoop one of the ponies up in one hand. The rest scattered, kicking their little hooves. Not that it did any good. Malthiar was a grown up, way too big for the ponies to come close to hurting. The pink one he’d grabbed squirmed and whinnied in his hand.

Put her down! Alexa jumped up, her hands turning to fists. Beside her, Pickwicken scrambled away on hands and knees. In seconds, he was gone. Adults scared him.

Malthiar ignored Alexa, holding Cotton Candy up to his face to examine. The pink pony pinned her ears back and snapped her teeth at him, but she was barely a handful to Malthiar. He looked her over, then gave Alexa a mean smile. Alexa wished he wouldn’t be such a jerk. He was handsome, with his long black hair and dressed in a flowing white shirt, black pants and tall black boots. She would have liked to make friends with him, but he always did this kind of thing when he showed up.

What will you give me if I do? he asked.

Alexa crossed her arms. Nothing. She’s mine. I didn’t say you could have her.

I don’t want her.

Alexa glared. Then why did you take her?

To see what you’d do.

That just didn’t even make sense. What would anyone do? Give her back, she said.

Malthiar looked at the pony. How mad will you get if I keep her forever?

Really, really mad.

What will you do to me?

"What will I do to you?" Alexa repeated.

Yes. If I keep your pony forever and ever and you get really, really mad at me, what will you do to me? He lowered the little horse from his face and looked at Alexa, waiting.

Alexa wanted to say something mean. Like she’d kill him, or punch him in the stomach, or steal something he liked. But Malthiar was a faerie, like Pickwicken, and he would be able to tell if she lied, even a little. And then he would ask more stupid questions and not go away.

Just give her back! she shouted.

You haven’t answered my question, Malthiar said.

I would hate you forever and ever!

Is that supposed to be a threat? He tilted his head.

Alexa stomped her foot. Give her back!

I’m not hurting her. Why are you so worked up?

Alexa stomped her foot again. You’re scaring her. And she’s mine and you didn’t ask if you could play with her.

Do I need permission? Malthiar raised his eyebrows.

Yes!

If I need permission, how was I able to simply pick her up? I could walk away with her right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.

Alexa felt a small cold panic in her stomach when he said that. She hoped he wouldn’t. You have to have permission to play with someone else’s things!

Malthiar held the pony up to look at her. No I don’t. I’m doing it right now. Although I’m not playing with her, I’m holding her and looking at her. Still. I didn’t need permission. I think you’re wrong.

"You’re such a jerk! You’re supposed to ask for permission."

Why?

So that if I’m playing with it or using it or don’t want you to touch it, I can tell you and then I don’t get mad at you for grabbing. That’s why!

Is that the only reason?

Yes!

Malthiar looked back at the little horse. Interesting.

It’s not interesting, it’s rude. And mean.

He lowered Cotton Candy again so he could frown at Alexa. "Your rules for rudeness seem terribly arbitrary. Last week you told me it was rude to ask how many Twinkies you had to eat before you got fat. Now this week it’s rude of me not to ask questions. I think you’re making things up as you go along."

This was so dumb. He kept asking ridiculous questions and he wouldn’t give her pony back and Alexa wanted to hit him. "It is rude to ask about a person’s weight. And it’s rude not to ask permission to touch someone’s things. You’re just stupid!"

Malthiar looked down his nose at her. Now that sounds rude to me. Why is it all right for you to be rude to me, but not all right for me to be rude to you?

Alexa threw her fists down to her sides. You started it!

So it’s appropriate to respond with rudeness if someone else is rude first, is that the rule?

Give my pony back right now!

"And you’re avoiding my questions. He raised one eyebrow. That seems rude as well. You seem very worried about how rude I am, but not worried at all about how rude you are."

If you know so much about what’s rude, why are you asking so many stupid questions?

I don’t know that much. And you still haven’t answered my questions.

Stop being rude to me and ask politely and maybe I would!

"So it is appropriate to respond with rudeness if someone is rude to you. I see."

To Alexa’s surprise, he set the little horse down on the ground. The pony started kicking her legs as soon as she came close to the ground, landed awkwardly and scrambled back to Alexa as soon as she found her footing. Alexa scooped her up and held her close to her chest, making sure to support the pony’s legs so she would feel safe.

This has been enlightening. Malthiar turned and walked away.

You’re such a pain in the ass, Malthiar! Alexa shouted after him.

He didn’t turn to look at her. In only moments, he had vanished into the forest.

Pickwicken poked his head out from behind a tree. Is he gone?

Alexa sighed. Yes, he’s gone. He’s a lunatic. What’s his problem, anyway?

Pickwicken shook his head. I don’t know. He scares me.

He doesn’t scare me. I just don’t like him.

That, too. Maybe we should go to your house to play for a while.

Alexa pet her scared pony, trying to calm her. I think you’re right. Let’s go.

Snow

About an hour before quitting time I heard one of my office mates swear. With a frown, I stood up to look over my cubicle.

A couple of people had gathered by the window. I didn’t know who’d sworn, but I shared his sentiment – snow fell in thick white flakes, suffocating the view in a bad-TV-signal fuzz. I’d meant to keep an eye on the window and get out as soon as the snow started, but I’d done so well trying to forget the fae that I hadn’t remembered to watch the weather.

When did that start? someone asked.

About an hour ago, I think, someone else answered.

Didn’t the weather say no snow today? I sort of knew better than to ask.

A couple heads turned my direction. One of the women in HR nodded. That’s what I heard, she said, as if she doubted her own hearing.

Naw, they changed it right before this started coming down, a fellow accountant corrected. Went from none to a blizzard real quick.

Another woman rolled her eyes. Wish I could get paid for being wrong most of the time.

A young woman in a heavy sweater and a bright flower-print skirt stepped into the doorway of my cubicle. She had long blond hair worn in two hand-made barrettes. I knew they were hand-made because I had one in my hair that matched them, a gift. Her eyes were the crisp, perfect blue of the sky on a hot summer day.

Hey Dinah, I said to her. You hear anything about this?

She nodded. Yeah, Amy’s sending people home. They’re talking about pulling the snowplows off the roads.

Already? Dang. I watched the fat white flakes block out the view of the world outside. Now I had to think about canceling my dinner date with Dad. I’d been looking forward to seeing him, especially with all the fae activity today. He might not approve of how I’d handled the hob, but he would at least get how the incident made me feel.

Think we’d better go? Dinah asked.

We carpooled together. I felt my eyebrows pucker and nodded.

Dinah waited while I saved my work and packed up my laptop. If I had to get snowed in I could at least get some work done. We let Jeannie know we were heading out, thanked her when she wished us luck in the snow, and then Dinah and I pulled on our winter coats and boots and slogged out to my car.

The view from the office window didn’t give a clear impression how much snow had already fallen. My feet sank until the snow came up to my calves, chilly and damp. And I had slacks on – I felt worse for Dinah, tramping through the best she could in her skirt.

A truck with a plow on the front pushed at the piles of white in the parking lot. The driver hadn’t made a lot of headway. And as threatened, the city had pulled the plows off the public streets. As I watched, one or two cars crept by with a lot of revving noises. I could see drifts piled where the plows had given up and left them. The blowing dunes of white and the muffling effect of the snow made the streets feel abandoned.

Day-am, I said.

Dinah nodded agreement.

At least the temperature hung in the twenties. My trusty little Honda started right up. Getting out of the parking lot with all that snow in the way proved trickier.

The streets weren’t any better. Several cars had plunged into snowdrifts and been left stuck where they stopped. My Honda skidded whenever the engine wasn’t revving to get through the piles of snow. The twenty minute trip to Dinah’s became almost an hour.

In front of her apartment building I made the big mistake. Instead of stopping to let her out, I tried to pull in beside the curb. I don’t know why. I guess I thought the car might get in the way of anyone else trying to come through. I thought I could manage to get out again. The Honda started to slow down, then suddenly didn’t and instead slow-motion nose-dived into a pile of white. Both Dinah and I slammed forward against our seat belts. They had locked, thank goodness. If they hadn’t, one or the other of us could very well have had a broken nose.

Dammit. I threw the car in reverse. Aside from the hum of the wheels spinning, nothing happened. I put it in drive and tried again. The car gave a hopeful little lurch, then skidded in place again.

I smacked my hands on the steering wheel. That didn’t help, either.

Forget it, Dinah said. It’s stuck. At least we’re here. Why don’t you come up and wait for the plows to go through?

I sighed. Yeah. I guess.

Did you have somewhere you needed to be?

I was supposed to have dinner with my dad. My tone sounded like I was supposed to have dinner with my dad before he died of some horrible disease. I cleared my throat.

Dinah’s brow puckered in sympathy. That sucks. At least he’ll understand. He’s gonna be snowed in too.

I nodded vaguely and shut the car off. Dad would understand. But it wasn’t telling him about being snowed in that had me worried.

You’re really upset about missing dinner with your dad, huh? Dinah set a hand on my shoulder. Is something wrong?

I forced myself to shake my head. No, I just really wanted to talk to him today. I’m not good at lying, but I have developed a pretty good knack for saying the truth without saying the whole truth.

I’m sure they’ll get the roads cleared by tomorrow, Dinah said. Let’s get inside. We can spike some hot cocoa and stay up late like a slumber party, whaddya think?

Dinah knows I don’t usually drink. She offered to be polite and because she knows sometimes I do have a glass of wine or a beer. I’d had some trouble with drinking, once upon a time. Once upon a bad time. Today, though . . .

I need to call and at least let him know where I am, I said.

So you’re saying yes to the booze? Dinah asked.

I laughed. Yes. I am definitely saying yes to the booze. Just let me call first.

She smiled. I grabbed my laptop bag and we left my car drifted, wading through the heaps of snow to her front door. Her apartment building had been built in the seventies, around the time architects had decided that pretty things were frivolous, expensive, and that people didn’t need or appreciate them anyway. Each unit had a layout identical to each other, all box-shaped. It always struck me how an artist should have a more appropriate home. She said she stayed because the landlord kept the place clean, the repairman knew a hole in the wall from his own ass, and reasonable rent meant she could afford to take days off to attend artist retreats.

Dinah unlocked the door and held it open for me. We stomped our boots clean, adding to the pile of snow already covering the carpet, trailing more behind us as we headed for the stairs. I followed Dinah up, feeling heavier and heavier as we went. Dad would go all quiet and disappointed on me. I almost wished he would swear and yell.

On the landing outside her apartment I reached into my laptop bag and pulled out my cell phone. I wished I could simply shut my phone off and not show up, but that would make everything ten times worse. Dad would spend the whole night worrying about me and looking for me, and he wouldn’t know to look for me at Dinah’s, which would only scare him more. I held up my phone to show Dinah.

She nodded. Come on in when you’re done. She let herself into her apartment, leaving the door open a crack.

Holding my breath, I dialed my dad. He answered on the first ring. I cringed.

Not coming? he said cheerfully.

I found myself shaking my head instead of answering. Um, no, I managed.

He picked up on my hesitation immediately. What’s going on? What’s wrong?

Ugh. I hate when he does that. He has a supernatural ability to tell when he’s being lied to, but if I can keep my voice straight, he can’t tell when I’m omitting important details. Of course, he’s figured that out and has learned to ask right out what’s going on.

Nothing, I said. I’m snowed in, that’s all. Called so you wouldn’t worry.

As soon as I said it I flinched. By saying nothing when asked what was wrong I’d lied. Of course I had.

Alexa. What’s wrong?

I’m snowed in with a friend, I said quickly. We carpooled to work and I tried to drop her off but my car got stuck and now I’m staying here. It’s been one of Those days.

Silence.

I hated that almost more than an answer. Silence meant he was freaked out and trying to think so he didn’t come off like a complete bastard. At least he tried not to act like a complete bastard, but still.

That’s not good, he said at last.

No.

Another silence. Aaaarrgh.

I think you know what you need to do, Alexa.

I couldn’t even pretend I didn’t. We’d had this talk before. Dad had never tried to stop me from having friends. I’d realized a long time ago that it was a bad idea. We hadn’t talked about it until I got older, more articulate, curious about how he handled these things. But we had talked. And we had agreed.

Yeah, Dad, I sighed into the phone. I guess I do.

I’m sorry. I knew he meant it. He hadn’t created the situation, and I couldn’t blame him, even as he pressured me to follow the rules we’d decided on. Then again, wouldn’t I?

Thanks.

I’m sorry about your day, too, he added. You’ll have to tell me about it.

I fiddled with the zipper on my bag. Sure. That sounds good. I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?

Sure, kitten.

Then, because I could, I said, Oh, Mom said to say ‘hi,’ by the way.

I got the same awkward pause out of him that I got from her. I wished I could figure out why. Only one of two things made any sense: either they hated each other that much, or there was unresolved tension there. But if there was unresolved tension, why hadn’t they resolved it?

That was nice of her, Dad said diplomatically. Tell her I said ‘hi’ back when you see her.

Huh.

I let it go for the time being. Good night, Dad. Love you.

Love you, kitten.

We hung up, and I found myself clutching my phone a little tighter than necessary. I knew my friendship with Dinah would come to this. I knew what sorts of complications would arise from having a friend. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten as close to Dinah as I had.

Dad was right, in the end. The time had come to distance myself.

No Thanks

The game started pretty much on its own.

Alexa and Pickwicken had fled to his home to escape neighborhood bullies, their one-time agreement having become a standing arrangement. That way Alexa could visit when she wanted without having to go through the pain of a sure way back, time limit, intentions, blah blah blah. So when Jeffrey and Eddie had showed up to be pests, Alexa and Pickwicken had just gone to his home instead.

Sitting on the grass and playing with ponies, the two friends simply became restless. First Pickwicken and Alexa began poking each other, jerking hands back before they could be touched in return. A silly game. At one point Alexa rolled away across the grass to evade Pickwicken’s return tag, so he got up on his knees to follow her. Alexa scrambled to her feet and skittered backwards. Pickwicken fell on his face reaching after her, so she reached out and smacked the back of his head. In a flash Pickwicken was up, Alexa laughing as she danced backwards away from him.

It went from there. A game of tag, but then they added in safe zones where someone could not be tagged. Then they added a time-limit on how long you could stay in your safe zone. The tiny winged Folk joined in, and it became fair to send a pixie to tag an opponent in your place. A few animals crept out to play too, and a no-teeth rule had to be included, then to be silly a four-legged tag rule came into play. Another few faeries came in from the woods, one of them with a big blue ball of shimmery light that looked and felt like a soap bubble but wouldn’t burst no matter how hard someone hit it. The ball got included in the game, tags fair only if the ball was in the air.

As more Folk joined the game, the meadow turned crowded and noisy with shouts and laughs and barks and feet thumping against the ground. More rules got added or changed as the people playing changed, as the rules got silly or not silly enough. Once in a while a rule would get broken and play would stop, everyone explaining the rules, clarifying, adjusting, then play would start again as though nothing had interrupted.

Being chased by the current it, Alexa grabbed the trunk of a tree and skidded around to avoid a tag, sure she could slide around on the damp grass. Her fingers slipped on a tree trunk that was slicker than she expected, her momentum as she slid around too much, and instead of a smooth sliding swing around the tree she tumbled head over heels across the meadow.

The faerie chasing her – a tall man with deer antlers and a bushy beard, wearing what looked like old hides around his waist and on his legs – paused, then came forward and offered his hand to help her up. Alexa had been