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...
