by Zoe Parker
Slapping the shower tap to turn it off, I reluctantly climb out of my shower of self-pity, grabbing my towel as I go. Sucking it up I look in the mirror when I’m finished drying off my body, only to stare at the changes. Because there are changes. My hair is indeed solid purple and curlier.
My eyes are different too. They’re still mismatched but now they have that eerie back glow like Ciar’s. This might mean I can finally do real magic! Curious and excited, I focus on a few drops of water to try and change it to ice. It’s a simple spell, but after a solid minute—nothing happens, absolutely nothing—the water doesn’t even move.
What the fudge?
Annoyed that my magical ability isn’t any different, I dry off my hair and walk—naked—into the dorm room, making a bee-line to the dresser. I feel his eyes on me but attempt to ignore the weight of them.
This isn’t the first time he saw me naked, so I have no idea why I’m so aware of it now. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, which causes me to hurry a little more than I want to.
Apparently very aware.
“Did you use your word?” Ciar is leaning up against the doorframe closest to me with that all knowing smirk on his face. Turning my face away, I mimic him sarcastically. No, I didn’t use my word because I was too excited and forgot but he doesn’t need to know that.
Staring at the violin on the dresser in front of me I bite my lip and pick it up. The zap of magic when I touch it arcs up my arm. Whoa, that has a kick to it. I roll my eyes at the ever-present smirk on Ciar’s face and turn back to the half-empty bottle of water on the dresser.
“Existence,” whispers out of me and I feel the magic move this time. The bottle starts to shake and with a faint pop explodes liquid all over the place. “Holy meatballs, it did something,” my voice squeaks with my excitement.
“Yes, it exploded. What were you trying to make it do?” Zag asks alighting on my shoulder.
Refusing to let him ruin my sense of accomplishment I snark, “I was trying to make it turn into a useful Dragon Familiar.”
“Why do you need a useful Dragon Familiar?”
I twist my head to look at him with my eyebrows almost at my hairline and see the second he gets what I said. If Dragons can blush, then he’s doing it. In retaliation he nips my ear. Laughing, I rub under his chin, something that turns him into a puddle of goo every time it’s done. He’s more like a cat than he realizes at this size.
Casting a glance towards my bed I sigh. Fluffy is under there and I can feel his discontent because the poor thing wants to come with us. He’s in his larval stage and hasn’t grown any legs yet. I can’t carry a hundred-pound wiggly worm to the grocery store, either.
Or can I?
The idea hits me like a lightning bolt and, happy with it, I run from the room. Several minutes later, Ciar is still muttering under his breath as he pushes the clunky wheel chair we ‘borrowed’ from the school—that’s now holding a happy Corpse Worm wrapped in a trench coat. I even put a baseball hat on him to add to his adorably creepy look.
“I can’t believe you insisted we bring him,” Zag chastises.
“Oh, I can—Keri has a soft streak a mile wide,” Ciar’s amusement is contagious. And it’s not a mile wide. “Yes, it is,” he teases, snooping in my brain again.
Flipping bond.
“Fine, so I like being nice and there’s nothing wrong with it. There need to be more nice people in the world. Think about how awesome that would be.” I realize I sound defensive but even the Sluagh are capable of kindness.
And they eat people.
“They’re kind to you, Keri. Never mistake it for part of their character.” Very maturely I stick my tongue out at Ciar for his unwanted comment.
I can think what I want to, delusional or not. They were always kind to me, so that’s how I base my opinion of them—nothing will ever change that. They were kind to me when no one else was.
“He does seem rather happy to be going with us. That noise he’s making sounds remarkably like laughter,” Zag muses, eyeing Fluffy.
The worm is happy, I can feel it radiating from him. Who knew that it could be this easy to make his big blubby butt happy? Although when he finally grows legs our method of travel will be less… difficult. Of course, then I’ll no longer get to watch Ciar push a worm wearing clothes in a wheelchair carefully over holes in the sidewalk.
The fact that he’s here—looking the way he looks—smiling as he pushes that wheelchair, is mind-blowing. It’s nice to see his sense of humor, I like it and gods bless it I like him. How did I get to this point? A week ago, I’d have sworn on every god in existence I hated him and that he hated me. Now we’re walking to the grocery store with a worm-on-wheels semi-incognito.
How weird is it that I think Ciar’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on?
Ciar stops walking, the smile on his face changing into something more… male. His eyes swirl, satisfaction bright in them and then he turns back to the wheelchair and starts pushing it along again.
For ten solid seconds I stand there staring at his retreating back unsure of what to say or do. I don’t want some pull of Faerie to determine who my mate… mates are, but I also can’t deny that I think Ciar would be my first choice in any situation.
The world fades away as I stare at his back, catching the flash of his green eyes as he glances over his shoulder. I didn’t miss the smirk on his face either.
Flipping bond.
“Mistress, there’s drool coming out of your open mouth.” Zag nips my ear to bring me back to reality. Shaking my head to clear it I start walking again.
Really Keri? You just went all gaga over someone you’ve known your entire life. Wiping my chin, I flick the tip of Zag’s tail, there’s no drool there. His chuckle wafts through my hair.
“Has anyone ever explained why Familiars exist?” he asks settling himself like a mantle around my shoulders, his chin resting on my shoulder.
“Not really. I know the logistics of it, but it’s not something I expected to have to deal with.” True facts.
He clears his throat and in a serious voice begins with, “When Faerie created her first creatures of magic it was a lot like whittling a piece of wood. Pieces of them fell away as they came into life and those pieces became other things.” That’s something I didn’t know. “Some of those pieces were absorbed by other creatures of magic being born and sometimes they were absorbed back into the body of Faerie.” He pauses for dramatic effect I’m sure. “Some came into life on their own, however, their life was tied into the lifeform from which they fell. Hence the first Familiars were born.”
Frowning I look at his flashing eyes, “Then how are you my Familiar since you were born first?”
“Every soul came into existence at the same time, mistress. Some were just held longer in the arms of Faerie than others.” It makes a weird kind of sense. All creation at once versus a little bit at a time.
“How exactly did Faerie create us all?”
“She dreamed us into being. Except the humans, those are the children of other gods.” It’s not often that the lore matches the truth of it and I’m sure it’s not as cut and dry, but this particular thing always fascinated me.
“What about the whole bond and Awakening thing?” The heat of his breath hits my cheek as he laughs at my question.
“Remember those pieces that were absorbed by others? That is how Triads came to be. The first soul is so powerful that they cannot be contained in one body, so pieces are given to others to help balance that,” he explains.
I snort in disbelief.
“Okay, I can’t deny that I Awakened, although to be fair it’s all been pretty anticlimactic. I made a water bottle explode so I don’t see this ‘all powerful’ crap. For one of them to be someone like Ciar… it doesn’t make sense, Zag. None of this does.”
“You’re a Fate Caller, that is the explanation.” Rolling my eyes, I flick his tail again. “Flip at me all you wish, it won�
�t change the fact that you’re the one creature in existence that can bring fate to another, with your will alone. Don’t cheapen your Calling because you can’t shoot fireballs out of your eyes.”
I open my mouth to defend myself and snap it shut. I can’t, he’s right. Whether or not I like it, he’s right. Fudge, just fudge, fudge, fudge.
“Why do you never curse?” Zag asks his eyes up level with mine. Apparently, I mumbled it versus saying it in my head.
“My mother used to yell and swear at me all the time,” and that’s as far as I’m explaining. She did it while clobbering me with something usually, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Zag being awesome doesn’t push it and settles down on my shoulder again. At this point we’ve caught up to Ciar and the noisy gurgles of Fluffy. Catching sight of something on the front of the coat I pick up my step and look down in surprise. Why is he covered in feathers?
“He was hungry,” Ciar explains, straight faced, “so I gave him a pigeon.”
“Well… okay then,” I dust the feathers off Fluffy and fight to keep from laughing at the ones stuck to his ‘face’, or at least the general area of his face. It’s where his eight eyes are.
Ciar has a soft spot for Fluffy, I learn something new every day about Ciar and myself, I can’t help but wonder what I’ll learn next.
The grocery store is a learning experience. I remember them from childhood, but it’s been years since I was in one. This one is a rather large one for such a small town, probably because of the Menagerie and all the creatures it accommodates.
There is even a section with ‘live’ food. Which happens to be the first aisle that Ciar walks down. Unsurprised by his choice, I turn on my heel and go down the household aisle, trusting in him to get the meat Fluffy will need. Unlike my three companions, I might eat it but I’m not keen on killing. I have and will again but it’s not something I enjoy doing.
Ciar is another story and that’s something about him that doesn’t bother me. He is what he is, and he doesn’t pretend to be anything other than that. Fae aren’t human and should never be compared to them.
The fact that I have more morality than most is probably more bad versus good and sets me apart from Fae even more. They are creatures of their natures something that doesn’t make them evil or good.
When it comes to things they love, even Fae can be gentle. Perhaps I’m not too far apart from them after all? And incredibly fortunate of the other Fae in my life.
“You’re thinking very hard on something, mistress,” Zag muses from his perch on my shoulder.
“You gotta stop calling me ‘mistress,’ Zag. Keri is my name, silly lizard.” He huffs at me as the tip of his tail pokes me in the cheek, a prod to get me to speak my thoughts and answer his question. “I was thinking about Fae nature, and how even the more monstrous of them can be gentle and loving.”
“It is a rare thing, but true—in your case, at least. You have some of the more volatile that care for you, including myself.” He brings his reptilian head around to meet my eyes. “Just as I treat you with kindness as does the dark lord and his ilk. But Keri,” he uses my name with a little discomfort, I’m proud of him for the effort, “you’re an exception. Don’t expect it to be shown to or by others and you’ll never be disappointed.”
He’s right, I was raised with gentle hands. I’ve seen the results of a Hunt and of people incurring the wrath of Mada.
“Keri, you need one of these.” A cart is pushed in front of me and then Ciar is gone again. It’s not empty, either. Something is wiggling around in a brown paper bag.
‘Don’t forget to get your ‘girl’ stuff,’ Ciar reminds me.
Oh! Grabbing the cart, I hurriedly grab things for our room like toilet paper that doesn’t feel like sand and head straight towards the health care aisles. Humming to myself I start grabbing all the things I think I’ll need and a few things I simply want. Shampoos and bath stuff goes in first. I pick through the organic Fairy products, tickled about the broad selection. The human manufactured stuff can’t touch the quality of it.
“I had no idea you were quite so… feminine.” Instead of responding to Zag’s unappreciated observation I flick his tail again. “What are those things?” he asks eyeing the blue box I toss into the cart. This time I tug his tail, he doesn’t need to know about that kind of hygiene.
Mine doesn’t happen that often anyhow but I like to be prepared.
“What do you want to eat? I mean you’re normally as big as a truck… I imagine that a few chunks of meat aren’t satisfying.” I start pushing the cart again.
“I go off in search of my own food in the mornings,” that explains his absences. I’m curious what he’s eating but not enough to ask and then regret asking.
“And at night?”
“The moon calls, so I fly sometimes.”
The idea forms in my head and immediately leaves my mouth, “Can I come sometime?” I miss the moon and the night.
“Of course!” He sounds excited at the prospect.
Smiling now, I start enjoying the shopping. Dancing around behind the cart I push off with one foot and send us coasting down the vegetable aisles. A feeling of unease tickles my spine as the cart is jarringly stopped by a tall, ageless looking Fae.
Fudge, it’s an Elf. Aristocracy if the fancy clothes are any indication.
His face is lean and almost delicate, perhaps even a little feminine, his eyes are a pretty blue—I can’t deny that—but they’re cold, no life in them. His hair is long and a light blue that almost looks like a soft, touchable cloud.
“Can I help you?” I ask tucking my hair around Zag to keep him quiet because I can feel his irritation and his desire to say something.
My time with the Sluagh taught me many things, but my time with my mother taught me when to keep my tone civil. Now is that kind of moment.
“Who do you belong to?” he asks, stopping me from trying to go around him with his finger to the end of the cart. Looking closer I see it the magic he’s using. This Fae is packed full of it.
“Myself.” Arrogant tool bag.
“Are you one of the,” he pauses making a face like there’s a bad taste in his mouth, “students at that zoo?”
Ciar’s sudden presence and the darkness of his emotions wash over me. Uh-oh. A warm hand runs across my shoulder and down my arm, hesitating long enough on my wrist to run a finger across the pulse before continuing across my hand, ending its journey by resting beside of mine.
Double uh-oh. Ciar just did the Fae version of peeing on a tree. Any other circumstance and I’d say something but not this time. Aristocrats are dangerous and powerful. Ciar can hold his own against them, me not so much.
‘You do not fear this Elven trash.’ His voice carries a command I haven’t heard since we’ve been here.
“Your guard is looking for you, Elf.” Ciar’s words carry an unspoken threat and a quiet menace that runs a chill down my spine.
The Elf turns to look at Ciar and I watch his pupils expand and then shrink when the realization hits him that danger is standing right in front of him. With a curious look thrown at me he turns without a word and stalks off. Ciar drags his hand slowly over mine and then steps away, his posture nonchalant like he didn’t just have a minor faceoff with an Elf.
In fact, it was nonchalant the entire time, but I know his danger level and now so does that Elf. Speaking of that Elf, “Why was he curious about me? I’ve run into them many times before and nothing.”
“You don’t know your own appeal at all, do you?” he asks, tucking a curl of purple hair behind my ear.
Oh, fudge, I look different now, don’t I? I don’t really think about it because I don’t feel any different. There’s no fantastic powers and fireworks. There’s more inside of me than before, I can feel the magic hanging around inside of me but it doesn’t feel like it’s anything spectacular.
“I’m talking about your appeal as a woman, Keri. Not the magical aspects of you,”
his voice holds his exasperation. Frowning I meet his gaze.
Do what now?
“Were you sneaking and drinking wine or something over there?” I lean forward and sniff near his mouth. Catching me off guard he plants his lips on mine in the briefest of kisses before dancing out of the way of my swat.
“You need to learn to use your magic to protect yourself. One day we won’t be there to save you and you’ll need to save yourself in a way that doesn’t involve you punching them in the face. Now let’s finish our shopping I have some things I need to do this evening,” and off he goes. Shaking my head, I turn my cart into my skateboard and off we go, right into the banana display.
Fudge.
A rustle in the wind reminds us that a Fairy is near. ~Author Unknown
Having a few moments alone is so surprising that at first, I don’t know what to do with myself, so I stand there in my pajamas eyeing the empty room. My gaze pans around to the bathroom door and the decision is made quickly. Grabbing my big ratty fluffy pink robe—I love pink, no shame—I run gleefully into the bathroom to do the one thing I rarely get to do.
Take a hot bubble bath.
Turning the taps to steam-your-skin-off, I toss in my Fairy made bath bomb and practically rip my clothes off. The bomb bubbles the water with pink glitter and the smell of cherry blossoms fills the room. Humming to myself, I check the temperature with my fingertips and quite happily I slide into the hot water.
Bliss fills me from head to toe.
Grabbing a towel from the shelves next to the tub, I roll it up behind my head and lay back to enjoy this quiet, relaxing moment in life. A deep sigh leaves me as all the stress—and the junk associated with it—does as well, at least for this stolen moment in time.
The hot water soaks into my skin and the warmth soaks into my bones. Another sigh and I relax deeper into the water, my body becoming pliant and limp. There are so few moments in life where one can truly relax, I’m thankful I have this one.
