“May I ask your name?” I inquired a short time later.
She flew up in order to look me in the eye. Her posture was ram-rod straight, and she held her spear at a proud angle. “I am Moonlily the Guardian,” she announced.
It was difficult not to laugh at such grim earnestness on such a miniscule face, but I managed it. I did not want to tempt her to stab me or use her teeth again. “And just what are you guarding, Moonlily the Guardian?”
She did not answer me, but she couldn’t help but dart her eyes over toward where the opal lay hidden. She snapped her attention back on me almost instantly. She had already given her secret away, though, and we both knew it.
I decided not to pursue it. I had come out to try gaining her trust, after all, and pressuring her for information on things she clearly didn’t want to discuss was not going to help with that goal in the least. “May I call you Lily?” I asked instead. “Moonlily the Guardian is a mouthful.”
She considered my request for a minute. Finally, she nodded her head and smiled. “I like Lily,” she stated. “You may call me by that name, Grant-Man the Generous.”
This time, I laughed. Such a serious little creature she was. “I’ll leave you in peace now, Lily,” I said as I stood. She flew higher as I did, keeping a close watch on me. “Would it be all right if I came to visit again?”
“I would like that.” After a moment, she added, “Will you bring more chocolate?”
“Of course.”
Her lips curled into a wide smile that showed off her dainty teeth— bright white teeth that looked quite lovely, now that they weren’t trying to bite me. “I look forward to seeing you again, Grant-Man.”
“And I, you, Lily.”
I smiled to myself as I walked away. The afternoon had been a success, as far as I was concerned. But I had to shake my head, as well. Making friends with a fairy, Grant. You’ve either made the discovery of a lifetime, or you are absolutely out of your mind.
But I was pretty sure I wasn’t crazy.
4
Opals and Dragons’ Eggs
I went back to visit Lily often. Not every day— my grades would have suffered too horribly from ignoring my homework, and I’m pretty sure I would have worn out my welcome in a hurry— but at least two or three times a week. She would fly out to greet me as I came, and we would spend an hour or two in each other’s company. And I would always bring her the chocolate that she came to love so well.
We talked a lot. We never sat in silence for longer than a minute or two before one of us would start up the conversation again. Lily seemed to have as curious of a mind as I did, and she asked question after question about me— where I was from, what my family was like, what I enjoyed, what I hated. She found it more than a little strange that I would willingly sit in a classroom all day and be lectured at in order to learn, rather than going out into the world to learn through experience the way she had.
“Don’t you have any schools? No fairy high schools? No fairy universities?”
“No,” she scoffed. “Fairies sitting around all day, neglecting our wings and growing lazy? We have better things to do than listen to a boring professor and pretend we know everything there is to know about something just because we read about it.”
That stung a little, just because so much of the history that I was so enthusiastic about studying was learned through research— the kind that required a lot of time in the library.
For all of my observations and careful querying, however, I learned very little about fairies in general or Lily in particular. She would talk all day long about the different trees in the forest, or which birdsong she preferred and why, but any specific questions about fairy life— like how many fairies there were, or where they lived, or even what they liked to eat besides chocolate— were met with noncommittal smiles and gentle changes in topic. I only tried to broach the subject of the opal once more, and I was met with such a stony silence that I decided that that conversation was one that would have to wait until much, much later. But it was hard to be patient. I was dying to get my eyes on that gem one more time.
Just a couple of weeks before the end of the semester, Jake walked into our room and caught me rummaging through my desk drawers and pants pockets. He watched me for a minute before finally asking, “What are you looking for?”
“I need some change for the vending machine.”
“Did you want a soda? Because I have some in the fridge.”
“Nah, I was going to buy a chocolate bar,” I answered. “But thank you for the offer.”
A huge smile spread across his face. “I have something better than anything you can buy out of that machine,” he beamed. “Here.” He dug into the bottom drawer of his dresser and came out with a package of Easter candy— a whole bag full of the chocolates that were coated in a shell to make them look like robin’s eggs.
I shook my head a little. “We just passed Thanksgiving. Where did you get a bag of Easter eggs?”
He gave a sheepish smirk. “I love these things,” he answered. “Too much. I buy a ton of them every Easter and then ration them for the rest of the year.”
“I can’t take them from you, then.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Really. Coach warned us about too many sweets, so it’ll be good for me.”
“Thank you,” I acquiesced as I took the bag from him. After a quick good-bye, I headed out to see Lily.
The visit was going just as well as usual until I pulled out those candy eggs and offered them to her. She recoiled away from me with a shriek, and her spear— which I had rarely seen since those first few days— was in her hands so fast I didn’t see her pick it up. She pointed it at me like she meant to use it.
“How could you do that?” she hissed.
“What?” I asked in confusion. I genuinely had no idea what was disturbing her so.
“Offer me eggs! To eat!” she wailed.
I took a look at the candy. “These? But they’re not eggs, they’re—”
“I don’t eat eggs!” she interrupted, working herself up to full boil. Her purple glow was growing frighteningly bright. “I protect them!” She jabbed her spear in my direction. “How could you, Grant-Man? Those are babies, not your snack!”
“They’re not eggs, Lily,” I responded again quickly. I was desperate to keep from destroying months of building trust over a stupid sack of sweets. “It’s candy. They’re just shaped like eggs.” I held the bag out for her to see. She flinched away from it as if she couldn’t bear to be near it. “Please look, Lily. I swear they’re just Easter chocolates.”
She hesitated long enough that I wasn’t sure she was going to look. But she eventually edged her way toward the bag, her arms tucked up close to her body as if to keep from accidentally touching it. She peered through the plastic at the candies for a long time until— finally— she seemed satisfied that they weren’t real eggs and were, in fact, exactly what I’d said they were.
She flew back a few feet. “Please put those away,” she commanded. “I don’t want to have to see them.”
I shoved them into my pocket. She visibly relaxed as soon as they were out of sight, and her aura dimmed significantly. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t realize eggs were so important to you.”
She slumped a little and sighed. “It’s not your fault,” she replied quietly. “There are many things I should have told you before now, but I was afraid to trust you.”
I could hear the conflict in her voice— and the sadness. “Fairies are taught not to trust humans, aren’t they?” I asked.
She dropped her eyes and refused to look at me. “Yes,” she answered. “Most humans we’ve had contact with are not as kind as you, Grant-Man.”
She landed on a branch and slumped into a little ball. My heart ached watching her. So much emotion flowing through her, and I had no idea how to help.
She suddenly snapped straight up and looked at me. “Forget what the fairy elders say,” she declared
. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me through my long, lonely vigil here. So, I’m going to give you the trust a true friend deserves.” She took to the air, flew right up to my left ear, and whispered, “Would you like to see what I’ve been guarding, Grant-Man?”
“I would.” The thrill that raced through my body was not caused entirely by the anticipation of finally getting to see that opal again. There was something about Lily’s nearness— so close I could feel the heat radiating from her and the tickle of her breath on my ear— that made it so I was truly aware of her in a way I hadn’t been before. The reactions that stirred in both my mind and body were as foreign as they were confusing. Really, Grant? I chastised myself. A fairy? She’s a little too little, or hadn’t you noticed?
Fortunately, Lily flew off ahead of me, giving me space to regain my composure. She dove down toward a familiar-looking lump in the dirt and then hovered there, waiting for me to catch up. She nodded at her treasure. “Take a look,” she encouraged.
I knelt down and brushed off the caked-on mud. My breath caught as I finally saw the object of my fascination again. It was a gorgeous shade of crimson red, laced through with wide streaks of fiery orange that I hadn’t noticed before. And, of course, the unique rainbow iridescence of an opal covered every inch of it. Now that I could really look at it, however, I realized that it couldn’t be just a simple— if spectacular— opal. I had suspected as much from the time I first realized it was being guarded by a fairy, of all things. It was too big, too perfectly shaped. Not to mention that— just like Lily— it had its own glow and was extraordinarily warm to the touch. I lifted it cautiously with both hands and brought it up for a closer look.
“Please be very careful.” I could tell by the urgency in Lily’s voice that she was having to curb her very strong inclination to strike out at anything that came near her charge. She flitted nearby, chewing anxiously on her lower lip.
“What is it?”
She hesitated a moment before she answered. “It’s a dragon egg.”
That was not what I’d expected. I gave the gem another, more critical look. “I’ve never believed in dragons.”
Lily chuckled a little. It sounded more sarcastic than amused, though. “Nor fairies, either, I’d imagine.”
She had me there.
“You can believe in dragons or not,” she continued. “It won’t matter either way if you annoy one and it melts your face off.”
I put the egg down in a hurry, although I made damn sure I was careful about it.
Lily laughed. “Don’t worry, Grant-Man. You’re safe from dragons as long as you’re with me.”
“So, why are you babysitting a dragon egg?” I asked.
“I’m a Guardian.” She said it as if that should clarify everything. “It’s what we do.”
“The mother dragons don’t care for their own eggs?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Some do. But most of them are not very maternal. Dragons are too rare to leave the fates of their eggs up to chance, though, so the fairy elders decided to appoint Guardians to protect the eggs until they hatch.”
“Are all fairies Guardians?”
She smiled. “No. Only a few. Guardians must be fierce, and loyal, and willing to sacrifice their lives for the eggs they are given to protect. It is a high honor to be chosen as a Guardian.”
Well, I could definitely testify to her ferocity. The two bites she’d given me had left scars. “What do the other fairies do, then, if they aren’t guarding dragons’ eggs?”
“All fairies are protectors in their own ways,” Lily explained. “They all have their own little pieces of the world to cherish and keep safe from harm.”
“Are there any around here?”
“Oh, sure,” she answered. “There are a few in the woods, here. Further away, there are stream fairies, and mountain fairies, and lake fairies. Desert fairies. Field fairies. You get the idea.” She gazed off in the direction of the university. “The most common fairies in cities are garden fairies. You’ll find them in the backyards and little kitchen gardens people keep behind their houses.”
Truthfully, it was slightly disconcerting to realize I’d been surrounded by what I’d thought were imaginary creatures and never noticed. It was also a little humbling to realize I was not as savvy about the world as I’d thought. What else is out there that I’m completely ignorant about? I looked down at the egg. Well, dragons, for one.
“So, why is the egg here?” I asked. “This doesn’t seem like the safest place for it. Isn’t it a little too close to the trails and people?”
“It is,” Lily admitted. “We’ll just say that the dragon who laid this egg is an inexperienced mother. This is her first, and she didn’t really take the time she needed to make a secure nest. The downpours we had awhile back washed the egg part of the way down the hill. You accomplished the rest when you tumbled off the trail a couple of days later.”
“Wonderful.” Nothing like being reminded of the disastrous first impression I’d made. “Are you sure the baby is okay?”
She nodded. “The egg is still warm, and its light hasn’t gone out. The little dragonling is fine.”
“How much longer until it hatches?”
“A couple of months,” she replied. “The two of us are nearing the end of our time together.” A small smile grew on her face, and her glow brightened. Dragons may not be very maternal, but it was obvious that the as-yet unhatched dragonling held a very special place in Lily’s heart.
“Would you like my help to move the egg to a safe place?” I asked without thinking. I wasn’t quite sure what had come over me because, honestly, I really had little desire to stay close to that egg now that I knew what it was. Lily said I was safe as long as I was with her, but it was hard to see how a tiny fairy could protect me from the wrath of a mother dragon. But the thought of helping Lily do something she obviously couldn’t do herself— the egg was easily several times heavier than she was— appealed to the chivalrous part of my soul I hadn’t known existed. Just the idea of it made me warm all over.
“You would do that?”
“Of course. It’s no problem.”
Her aura grew even brighter. “That would be wonderful, Grant-Man.”
The gratitude in her tone sent my heart racing. “Great!” I answered. My enthusiasm may have been just a touch overdone. “I’ll come by on Saturday morning, and you can lead me to where you want the egg to go.” I stood up and dusted myself off. Almost as an afterthought, I asked, “Is there anything besides chocolate you’d like me to bring for you?”
“Berries,” she said without hesitation. “They’re not easy to find this time of year.”
“Berries it is,” I said as I took my leave. I turned and looked at her after I’d walked some ways back toward the university. For the first time since we’d met, she had not gone straight back into hiding. She hovered in the air— watching after me— and she waved as soon as she noticed me noticing her.
I waved back. Already, I was looking forward to Saturday so much my fingertips were tingling in anticipation. I would have felt better if it didn’t include a dragon egg, though.
As my often rotten luck would have it, the first major snowstorm of the year blew in over Friday night. I woke up Saturday morning, peeked out of my window to see the several inches of snow on the ground and the large flakes still falling, and felt all of my enthusiasm drain out of me. This was not going to be a fun excursion.
The idea of not going, however, barely darted through my mind. Just imagining Lily waiting for me to show— and the confusion and hurt she’d feel if I stood her up— was enough to get me moving. I put on enough layers of clothes to make my grandmother proud, stuffed my feet in my boots, grabbed the berries I’d bought Lily at the grocery store out of the fridge, managed not to wake up Jake, and headed out to the woods.
I should have been able to walk straight to Lily and the egg— with as often as I’d been there— but everything looked so different under
the blanket of snow that it took much longer for me to find them than it should have. Lily buzzed out to me as soon as I got close, her expression a combination of concern and annoyance. I was certain I’d seen the same one on my mother’s face on more than one occasion.
“I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
“I told you I’d be here.”
“I know,” she admitted. “But with the snow…” She trailed off. “I’m glad you’re here,” she finally added.
“Me, too.” I’m sure the grin that I flashed at her was just as goofy and awkward as I feared it probably was, but I couldn’t help it. It made me happy in a way I couldn’t explain that she seemed to have been looking forward to my company as much as I looked forward to hers. “Well,” I continued after a moment, “let’s get this egg moved, shall we?”
“Oh, yes,” she said as if she’d just remembered the whole reason for our meeting. “Let’s.”
Now that I was in the right place, the egg itself was not difficult to find in the least. Unlike every avian and reptile egg I’d ever seen, this one generated its own heat, and there was a wide, wet circle completely free of snow surrounding it. I took off my backpack, pulled out the blanket I’d packed for the occasion, and gingerly bundled the egg within it. I put my bag back on once I’d safely tucked the egg inside and then nodded to my fairy escort. “Lead on, Lily, dear.”
It was a very long hike. In the summer, it probably would have made a pleasant afternoon excursion, but the snow changed that entirely. The cold air felt like knives in my lungs, and it seemed as if we’d only barely started before my hands and feet were soaked and nearly numb. The rest of my body, however, was uncomfortably warm, as it was roasted by a combination of exertion and the nearly unbearable heat coming off of the dragon egg. And yet, I continued on. Worth it, I tried to convince myself. For Lily. It was a combination of stubborn pride and sheer, infatuated idiocy.
A Paranormal Easter: 14 Paranormal & Fantasy Romance Novellas Page 46
