Arianna’s aged but comfortable cottage had slightly uneven floors. Wood planks held a patina that spoke of long use and good care. The fireplace generated enough heat to warm the entire first floor. Fire tending instruments hung neatly on a rack to the left of the hearth. The decor was interesting, well worn, and Ari’s selection and appointment of unique furniture appealed to my artistic senses.
“You are staying for supper, aren’t you?” Ari asked as she handed me a mug of hot, mulled cider. I inhaled the sweet fragrance, sipped the pleasant brew, and sniffed the fragrant stew bubbling in the kettle sitting on the stove. I was surely in for a treat, since Ari made the best soups and stews I’d ever tasted.
With a wide grin, I nodded.
“The rolls are nearly done, and we have time to talk,” Ari said and sat in an old Morris chair.
I gave her a nod, and nestled into a cushioned chair made from woven blueberry wood. While it appeared frail, the gnarled wood had been intricately woven, giving it strength.
She seemed to consider her next words carefully.
“You must know by now there’s something bad in the wind. I feel it’s not healthy for the faeries, or for us, either. We’re in danger, almost as much as they are. You must be wary, Luna. Take care. Don’t trust anyone.”
Her cryptic words sent alarm tingling along my spine, even more than Devin’s had. I choked back the panic that threatened to overtake me. Oh dear, here we go again.
“Who, and what, are you talking about? And why should I take such care?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Someone will make their presence known, and we’ll all be in danger when they do.”
Skeptical, I asked, “What kind of danger, Ari?”
“I think someone might try to steal the faeries.”
I snorted my disbelief. “You’re joking, nobody can steal faeries. They’re too wily for that.” I laughed at the idea.
Her eyes widened and Arianna grew still. “It’s no laughing matter. There are those who will do whatever they can to collect every speck of faerie dust from them, leaving them defenseless. Dust offers power over others. As you know, pixies have it, too, but they’re more resourceful and devilish than faeries are.”
The oven timer sounded, and Ari rose to retrieve the rolls. As her words filtered into my brain, I watched her pile luscious rolls into a cloth-lined basket. Hunger pangs squirreled through my stomach, and suddenly I was distracted by the flavorful essence of fresh baked bread.
Tearing my thoughts away from food, I realized Ari’s information was surprising to me. I’d never given faerie dust much thought where power was concerned, though I remembered how woozy it had made Riddles earlier in the day. I didn’t see them as villains; Faeries I’d known throughout my life had seemed harmless, delightful creatures that had treated me with the same respect I’d given them.
I leaned back and pondered my father’s study of the elfin world and all that entailed. Somewhere in his belongings, lay journals of notes depicting these beings and their habits. I wracked my brain for something pertinent to the discussion, something I might have seen in them. I’d been quite young when he’d studied the fae folk, and hadn’t paid much attention.
I wasn’t even sure where I had stored his papers and books, though they were somewhere at the house. My oversized bungalow was roomy on the ground floor, but the second-floor loft left little storage space for personal belongings. I’d used the eaves for what I didn’t readily need.
As Ari ladled stew into bowls and declared supper was ready, I eagerly looked forward to the meal. After a second bowlful, I knew I’d have to stop eating. The food was delicious, the rolls exceptional, and I’d eaten too much already.
Our conversation throughout the supper consisted of discussion about the work Arianna had done and included talk of the faeries who had offered a smidgeon of faerie dust for inclusion in the leaded glass window hangings Ari made. I came to the conclusion that although Ari was strange, I had no room to talk since I carried on with faeries, too.
“What was the problem in the studio, this morning?” I asked her.
She hesitated and then said, “I think there’s a pixie watching over my work. He’s scary and brooks no foolishness. I was afraid he’d cast a spell on you, so I thought it better to talk here as I know he won’t come inside this house.”
Stunned by her revelation, I could only nod. With a deep breath, I asked, “Why do you think someone would steal your work from my shop?”
“That’s the tricky thing. You see, while the faeries give me pinches of dust to include in my work, what they give doesn’t affect them and their power. Such little amounts. They can’t offer much, so I work with what I get, that’s why I don’t supply you with many works of the fairie art.” Scraping her chair closer to the edge of the table, she leaned forward and whispered, “Just before I’m finished with each piece, I add dust to it, causing the glass to take on a glow. I’m sworn to keep that secret, so be warned, you can’t tell anyone.”
“I had wondered about the glow, but I’d put it down to the sparkle when light hit the designs.” The entire scheme seemed weird, even to me, a faerie believer. “Why would anyone take the window hangings? They’ve got a layer of glass on both sides with the faerie image in between. Could the dust be collected by breaking them apart?”
“I’m not sure how successful that would be. Maybe someone thinks there are real faeries in the images I insert.” She shrugged, and I made a mental note to check my father’s journals and read all his literature I could find to see if this was possible.
The remainder of the evening was filled with Arianna’s version of folklore and faerie stories, the type of stories that fill your heart with fear. She shared stories and her knowledge of good faeries, tricky ones, and the very bad, vicious kind. One story of bad fae involved kidnapping, and being held in their world, where torture was considered entertainment. The story reminded me of Christians and lions in the early days of Rome. Okay, so now I had to walk home in the dark. Yikes.
All I could think of, as I readied to leave, was that I had a flashlight and nothing else to protect me while I’d be in the darkness of the wood. Maybe I should have driven my car over.
Too late to think about that now.
I thanked Ari for dinner, for her words of wisdom, and set off into the night.
The trip home wracked my nerves. Ari’s tales stood out in my mind when I tripped over tree roots here and there as I rushed along. More than once, I thought I heard sounds that sent a chill up my spine. A growl here, a rumble there, and then there were the footsteps that threatened to overtake me… By the time I’d reached my own backyard, it seemed as though I’d been through a funhouse – without the fun.
Riddles waited outside the back door, his ears flattened against his head. When I pushed the door open, he scampered inside without a backward glance – some protector he was. I smirked at the thought and turned to close up the house for the night. Something moved in the dark, just beyond the edge of the rear floodlights. I blinked a couple of times to assure myself something was there, but either it was a trick of light against darkness or that whatever had been standing there had disappeared. I shivered, locked the door, and headed upstairs.
The cat pranced into our loft after he’d taken stock of the entire first floor. His usual prowl of the shop and dining room had ended abruptly when I’d scrambled upstairs as though the devil snapped at my heels. Once I gained the top floor, and my bedroom, Riddles stood next to me, eyeing the closet contents, as if awaiting the opportunity to jump into the space and make a mess.
The eaves of the loft were stuffed to the max. I opened the slanted double doors and dragged forward two crates that were jammed in the back of the eave. A thick layer of dust covered them. I wiped them clean and read the label attached to each. One crate consisted of my father’s personal and financial records, the other crate had the word Research written on it. I shoved the first crate back into the eave and unloaded the second o
ne. Stacks of bound journals, loose papers, and other work surrounded me.
Riddles climbed over the piles, sending them every which way. His whiskers twitched as his investigation progressed. I gently admonished him, scratching his ears as I studied the stacks of papers, notebooks, sketchbooks and wondered where to begin. I had organized his notes that were separated into subject categories. At the bottom of the crate lay my father’s final book on faeries.
I withdrew the heavy, hardbound book from its resting place and I ran a hand over the dry, old textured leather, peering at each page as I flipped one after another. Dad had been most interested in faerie habits, the way they flew, and how they acted. About two-thirds through his book, the research took a dark turn. Creepy sketches of weird beings filled the pages, followed by notations. Hand-written descriptions of what the critters were and how they fit into fae life straggled around the drawings toward the edges of each page. I shut the volume with a snap and set it aside as I glanced at the clock.
The hour was late. I needed sleep or I wouldn’t get up in time to make the many cupcakes I knew we’d need for customers. Generally, I began the cupcake making process in the wee hours. Once finished, I would take a brief nap and then begin work in the shop. Tonight had been a late night for me. I wasn’t about to fall behind in my responsibilities because Ari had aroused my curiosity and the woods had spooked me.
I’d settled in for the night. Riddles lay asleep in his cat bed, and I remained wide awake, staring up into the darkness. Sleep refused to come. I was wired, uneasy, and aggravated over the break-in. Ari’s weirdness bothered me, and if I was to be completely honest, I admit I was fearful of what lurked in the woods. The dark shadowed form piqued my curiosity, even as it scared the crap out of me. With a sigh, I mumbled, “I can’t wait for Devin to return home.”
* * *
I awoke when the alarm went off. I’d eventually nodded off and was grateful for it. I left Riddles asleep, and changed into baking clothes. After my adventures during the summer, I knew I had to get dressed and not bake dressed in my pajamas even if I was wrapped in a humongous apron.
Soon ready, I went down to the creation station after checking the first floor. It seemed prudent to have a look-see, especially after the shop had so recently been violated.
I hauled out baking materials, readied the floor mixer, and dumped in loads of ingredients, special flavorings and such, into the large bowl that locked in place and stepped away to let the spinners do their job. When the mixture was ready for cupcake pans, I held each pan under the extruder, filling cups with batter. While the cakes baked, I mixed the next flavor, and so on, until I’d managed the number of dozens I deemed necessary for the upcoming onslaught of visitors to the Junction.
The final batch of cupcakes baked while I mixed bowls of tasty frostings. Bavarian crème and butter cream were favored by the customers, so I made extra. All the while I worked, I mulled over my father’s findings. Had I’d read everything he’d written, whether it applied to faeries, or not? I wasn’t sure. A second look might be worthwhile.
Soon, swirled dollops of assorted frostings covered the cakes lined across the wide counters. I paced to and fro, adding a smidge of something to finish each cake to perfection. Labels rested on individual trays. I walked the length of the counter and read each one. Candy-corn cupcakes filled the first tray while apple cobbler cakes with pumpkin-pie frosting filled the next. Caramel covered coconut drizzled with rich chocolate sat atop mocha cupcakes. The next few rows were my usual everyday offerings and were laden with chocolate butter cream and white butter cream frostings. Topped with sprinkles, flower candies, or marzipan cherries, they were a treat for the eye and the taste buds. Several trays consisted of yummy red-velvet cupcakes, chocolate cupcakes frosted with a Halloween owl design, followed by three trays of carrot-cake cupcakes covered in cream cheese frosting and embellished with an orange marzipan carrot. Pleased with the lot, I loaded tray after tray onto the dumbwaiter and sent them upward.
At the top of the stairs, I checked the clock and realized I’d have time to spare after transferring the cakes to the shop’s glass cases. After the cases were filled with the first batch of trays, I left the remainders covered up on the counters below and went back to bed for an hour.
The alarm sounded just as I dozed off. Damn, wouldn’t you just know it? I’d be dragging my heels by late afternoon and there were journals to be reread and secrets to uncover. I had showered, dressed, and was scurrying to the first floor when Riddles flew past me. He stretched his fat torso as far as possible up the back door and gave me a look that plainly held a dire warning if I didn’t open up and let him out.
“You are one spoiled feline, Riddles. I don’t know why I keep you around,” I muttered as he trotted over the doorstep and onto the porch. He glanced back and forth, then vaulted through the air onto the garden path and raced from sight. He was obviously on the hunt. For what? I was sure it included faeries, but knew he’d never succeed in catching one.
Dilly and Annie rounded the corner of the porch and greeted me as I held the door open for them.
“Are the cupcakes ready?” Annie asked.
I nodded and said, “I’ve already brought some upstairs. They’re in the case. I’ll load the rest and you and Dilly can take care of them. I made a few dozen extra, just in case we’re inundated with customers. Let’s hope they don’t go to waste.”
Dilly popped her head around the door casing and said, “You can always take them to the nursing home on Benefit Road. The residents enjoy extra treats, Luna.”
“Good idea. Throwing them out is so difficult for me. They’re like family.” I snickered as the two women chuckled.
The phone shrilled. I left the corridor and answered the call. Arianna was on the other end of the line.
“If you could find time, I wondered if you’d come over later? I’ve found something of interest and want to discuss it with you,” Ari said. “It’s important, Luna, or I wouldn’t ask.”
“Sure,” I said, “I’ll be there by three. If we get too busy, I’ll give you a call and let you know when I can get there. Is that all right?”
“Great, I’ll see you then.” Ari rang off and I clicked the phone off.
Chapter 4
By midday, and with no relief in sight, I sent Annie down to the creation station to have lunch while Dilly and I took care of customers. They traded places as soon as Annie finished eating. The rush had started earlier than usual, without letting up – and no wonder, the weather was as bright as the foliage.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the last busload of tourists drove off from the parking lot. When business was good, I was happy; when it was crazy mad like this morning, the three of us tended to race around without purpose. I chuckled and turned toward my helpers.
“We’ve probably got a small window of time to get this place back to normal,” I said. “Annie, help me with the tables. Dilly, you make two more urns of tea.”
With nods, both women got started. Dilly clanged the urns as she washed them and set more tea to brew. She filled a glass water urn with fresh cut lemons and ice water. With a glance over her shoulder, Annie whispered to me.
“A stranger came in today. He sat alone in a corner watching all that went on. He didn’t take his eyes off you whenever you were about. At first, I thought he wanted attention, so I asked if I could get him something. He then ordered a cupcake and tea, though I had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t here for refreshments, Luna.”
I stacked empty trays and added empty honey jars on top of them. I lifted them to my shoulder and said, “What was his expression like when he saw me?”
“He seemed serious. It was hard for me to tell, really. He’s a looker, that’s for sure.”
I grinned at her observation and said, “Maybe was he simply enjoyed the goings on in the shop.”
The sound of breaking glass resonated from the kitchen. Annie and I momentarily froze before we headed toward the noise.
I slid my loaded tray onto the nearest counter and stared at the mess.
Her eyes huge and face pale, Dilly gawked in horror at the flood of cupcakes that had hit the floor, accompanied by my two most precious glass serving platters. Slowly, she looked up. Her angst was plain to see as she exploded into apologies while tears streamed from her eyes.
“Oh Luna, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I guess I didn’t pay attention to what I was doing, and I knocked them over.” Sniffling, Dilly brushed the tears from her face.
We were all weary – I knew I was – and these two women were older than me. The pace we’d kept for the past few days had been horrendous, and it looked like I was paying for it in more ways than one.
“I’ll reimburse you for the loss, Luna. Just don’t fire me, I need the income,” Dilly pleaded.
With a deep breath, I patted her on the shoulder. “Take a break, both of you. Go out and get some fresh air. I’ll bring you some tea. I’ve expect too much of you, and business has been wild lately.”
In an effort to appease, Dilly stepped from the debris and pulled the lightweight snow shovel from the hall closet. I’d stored it in preparation for our upcoming Maine winter. She trundled back into the room with a mop and bucket, as well. I put a hand on her arm, took the materials from her and pointed to the door. “Now, Dilly, take a break. I’m not angry. I’m more worried that I’ve been working you both into the ground. I’ll get your tea and then clean this in a jiffy, don’t worry.”
Hesitant, the women left the room and headed for the porch. Why I’d tucked the shovel in the closet with the broom and floor cleaning paraphernalia, I couldn’t say, but it came in handy now. I brought the women a tray of tea and cupcakes, shoveled the cupcake and glass debris into a trash bin, and then tackled the thin layer of frosting on the floor.
Faerie Dust Dead (The Luna Devere Series Book 2) Page 3
