Ciera wiped her mouth with her forearm. “What?”
“You are an interesting creature.”
“Creature?” Did he know she wasn’t human? Her heart began to race thinking of a human hacking her into little pieces. She reached for her invisible wand. It was there, but would do her no good.
The waitress returned and picked up the plates. “Wow, did you lick this one clean?”
Ciera straightened against the firm wooden booth. “Are we not supposed to do that?”
The waitress shrugged. “I guess there’s no rules against it. I’ll tell Sally you approve of her cooking.”
“Please do. Tell her it lived up to the delicious odor.”
The waitress pulled a pad of paper from her apron and ripped off a piece. “You can pay me whenever you’re ready.” After clearing the table, she headed back to the kitchen.
“Pay?” Ciera swallowed. She hadn’t thought she’d need money. She knew humans used that as a form of barter, but she had been so used to paying with magic and wishes.
The thief looked over to her. “I’ll take care of it, but you don’t have any money?”
Ciera shook her head.
“Of course you don’t.” The thief ran his fingers through his black hair and sighed. “Go outside and wait for me down the street a bit. I’ll be out in a few moments.”
On Ciera’s way out of the restaurant, she waved at the waitress and called back into the kitchen, “Sally, that was the best meatloaf I’ve ever had.” She tightened the blanket around her body and moseyed out the door.
Chapter 6
Ciera
Ciera stood down the road a little way from that delicious meatloaf place. She felt warm for the first time since getting to Chicago. Maybe it was the hot chocolate or being dry, or simply from her stomach being full. She felt content, maybe even happy.
She stood beneath a streetlight and waited for the thief. Moments later, out the door barreled the dark-haired man, at an awkward pace that picked up. Faster and faster.
He ran straight toward her.
“What’s going on?” She gripped her invisible wand.
“No time now,” he said, out of breath. “We gotta go.” He grasped her hand and dragged her down the alley. As Ciera rounded the edge of the building, she saw a man in a white apron running after them. His belly was almost as big as hers.
“What’s going on?” she repeated.
“They don’t like it when people don’t pay their bills.”
“Who didn’t pay? Oh.” Ciera’s insides clenched. “If I would have known you didn’t have money, I wouldn’t have eaten there.”
“If you didn’t look so miserable, I wouldn’t have taken us there.”
They turned a corner at the end of the alley, and Ciera glanced over her shoulder. The man with the apron was nowhere to be found.
The man tightened his warm, calloused grip on her hand. “You needed to eat and take care of that baby. Maybe you don’t want the child, but it’s still your responsibility.”
“Not want the child?”
“Well, you’re trying to get rid of it.”
After the next turn, Ciera stopped. “It’s not that I don’t want it. I can’t have it. Two completely different things.”
The thief turned around and stood right in front of Ciera, his fists clenched. “Imagine that baby’s now ten years old. Could you tell the child you gave it up? That you wanted her or him, but was afraid to stand up for her or him?” A fire brewed in the thief’s eyes as he searched her face for an answer.
Ciera stepped forward. “We’re not talking about this. You don’t know me and you don’t know what my options are.”
The thief went to say something, but shut his mouth. He dug into his pockets and pulled out a wad of green paper.
Ciera’s eyes latched onto the currency. “You had money? Why didn’t you pay the bill then? We did eat the food.”
He shoved it in Ciera’s hands. “Priorities, but I think you need this more than me. Get yourself someplace to stay and get some help. Call the police, something. Someone will help you. Just not me.”
With that, the thief turned from Ciera and began to dash away.
Ciera fumbled the green paper in her hands. What would this do? All she wanted was information to find the baby’s father. How could this man be warm toward her one moment then retreat the next? Despite being a thief, he was different from the men that tried to steal from her when she first arrived into this town. Different from the movies she had watched in school. Maybe he was like that man in Erde who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor.
This thief showed compassion and sorrow upon his face. He wanted what was best for her, and her child.
Glancing down the alley, the man’s silhouette disappeared around another building. She rubbed the goosebumps that had returned on her arms. A whiff of garbage from the giant metal bin beside her made her wrinkle her nose. What was she doing staying here? She tightened her grip on the money. That man would help her, despite what he told her. In this strange world, he was the closest thing to a friend she had.
Don’t let him get away.
No matter where he was going, it was better than here. She dropped the blanket, wrapped her arms around her belly for support, and took off into a sprint. Her bare feet fell nearly silent on the now dry pavement.
Sneaking around was so much harder when she didn’t have her magic, nor her wings. As a fairy, she could shrink down small, fly, and make herself invisible. Now, she performed an elegant dance, sneaking along the side of the buildings and staying in the shadows as the morning sun began to rise.
Night on the streets of Chicago was not the best place for an out-of-magic fairy godmother. She stayed away from people sleeping on the sidewalk, and so did the thief she followed. Was this place just as dangerous for humans?
After way too much time following the man, her lack of sleep snuck up on her and her eyelids grew heavy. The grace of her movements disappeared, and her vision blurred. How long had it been since she slept? Did her little nap on the bench count?
With heavy legs, Ciera dragged her feet. Just when she thought she couldn’t anymore, the thief stopped in front of a large metal door on a multiple-story dwelling. He pulled keys from his pocket and began to flip through them.
Ciera wouldn’t let him get away. She sprang from around the corner and ran toward him with all the energy she had left. Just a few more steps. One, then another, but the man disappeared into the dwelling. The door swung shut at the same time her foot came crashing down on a pile of glass.
“Oh my fairy dust!” she exclaimed, pushing forward. She threw her fist repetitively against the door, ignoring the sharp pain in her foot. “You’ve got to let me in. Thief, do you hear me?” Determination coursed through her. Warm, sticky liquid oozed between her toes. On the cement was a smear of blood.
She snatched her head up and closed her eyes. What had she done? Were all her toes still attached? She pried an eye open and glanced back down.
Yup, all ten.
Pain shot through her foot and radiated up her leg. Was there something stuck in the sole? She tried to pick up her foot, but her belly kept getting in the way.
With a sigh, she moved away from the door and sat on the edge of a step. She took a deep breath and twisted her foot around the best she could manage with her enormous stomach. Despite all the blood, the gash wasn’t that huge. She’d had worse injuries when she got in that tiff with the unicorn.
Around her, people started exiting buildings now that the sun was stronger in the sky. Hmm… It must be safe here during daylight. She searched the humans for a silver, robotic arm, but didn’t find anything.
How many people lived in this village, anyway? If there were 50,000 with the name John, did that make this city have millions of people? Where did she even begin? She was the best fairy godmother, and understood everything in her world and in Erde too, but Earth confused her.
She could no longer see
her bleeding foot behind the tears.
Stop it. You’ve never been one to feel bad for yourself. Do something.
But she was helpless here in the human world. Helpless without her magic.
No, you’re not. Use your wits.
Ciera repositioned her leg and examined her wound closer, searching for glass. Without thinking, she reached for her magic to heal it.
Nothing.
She fought the urge to zap herself inside the building and make the thief tell her how to find John. How to survive in this world. To yell at him for insulting her ability to care for the baby.
But perhaps he was right.
Chapter 7
Dane
Dane stood in the entry commons of his apartment complex. On the security system monitor beside the door, the purple-haired woman’s image filled the screen. She sat on the cement porch picking at the bottom of her foot. Blood covered her hands, and she struggled to position her leg around her pregnant stomach. He had only hesitated, hoping she would leave, but now, with the injury, he couldn’t abandon her.
Dane leaned his forehead against the cool metal door, hand on the knob, ready to turn. It didn’t matter if she was crazy. There was an innocent child inside her.
Why can’t you be an uncaring thief? Life would be so much easier that way.
Dane took a deep breath and twisted the knob.
The woman’s beautiful violet eyes glanced up as he stepped outside. The mixture of her tears and the smile on her face urged him to care for her.
Damn her.
He didn’t need more responsibility.
Dane ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, let’s wash that up.” He had thought she couldn’t look more attractive, but the spark of joy her eyes gave off, paired with the dimple on her cheek, had him melting inside. He pushed the thoughts away.
You’re only going to get hurt, like last time.
She attempted to stand, but struggled with her stomach. Rushing to her side, Dane slipped a hand around her arm and helped her up.
The woman leaned into him. “I thought you didn’t like me.”
Dane glanced at her stomach. “I can’t leave you and the baby outside, helpless.”
The woman pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not helpless.”
“Okay, okay. Come on then, let’s wash up your foot.” Dane imagined the trail of blood she’d leave if she tried to hobble her way inside. Wrapping an arm around her, he helped her to hop inside the complex. There was one sink he could think of that wasn’t inside his apartment. “This way. I’ll wash you up in the basement.”
After helping her hop down the stairs, he patted the top of the washing machine next to the sink. “Scoot up here.”
The woman tried to prop herself up onto the machine, but couldn’t lift her weight.
Not helpless?
He struggled to hide his smirk.
Her voice could have cut glass. “Are you laughing at me? That’s not very nice.”
He shook his head then hoisted her up onto the machine. “You’re just a little different from most people I’ve met.” He turned the water on, checking the temperature until it warmed.
The woman turned her head over her shoulder, appearing to check her back. Then she patted a spot on her waistband. “How do you find most people to be?”
“They hide things. Put their best self forward.”
“I hide things too.”
“Like the baby’s father? Like where you’re from?” Dane shook his head. Neither of these things mattered to him, anyway. “It’s just that you seem different from most people.”
She snapped her head up and caught him with her intense eyes. “Different? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re so blunt with your wants and needs. It’s refreshing. Or the fact that you followed me, despite me not being very nice.” He placed a hand against her bare knees to swing her legs into the sink, but snatched it away, realizing how intimate the gesture was. Purple sparkles danced on her cheeks.
Dane, you’re losing it. It’s just glitter.
He focused on her feet. “This may sting some.”
“Pain is not a problem.”
Dane cupped her bleeding foot with one hand and guided it into the sink and under the water. He rubbed it gently with soap and rinsed the best he could as the sink filled.
She winced, and then her face softened as Dane rubbed the blood from between her toes. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind cleaning you up. You should wear shoes, though.”
“No, not for that. For ruining your episode of thievery. You’re so nice. I’m sure you had a grand plan, and I interrupted.”
Dane took in the sincerity in her expression. “It’s okay. There’ll be other things to take.” He dropped her feet into the pool of water. “Now we just need to bandage the cut. Hold on.” It appeared the blood had slowed down. He made his way to the back of the basement and unlocked his storage room door. Inside, he had his camping supplies, including a bright flashlight and a first aid kit. He returned to the woman.
He lifted her foot again and dried it with some paper towels. “So, what’s your name?” He shined the light against her flesh, catching the shimmer of a tiny piece of glass. When he picked it out, she didn’t cringe like he expected.
“Ciera.”
“Well, Ciera. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Dane.” He wiped the wound with a gauze pad and applied a triple-antibiotic Band-Aid. He swung her legs around again, to dangle off the front of the washer. “It wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Lots of blood, but it was a little cut. Either you bleed a lot, or the glass sliced you just right.”
She squared her shoulders and stood tall. “Well, thank you, Dane. I’m not used to so much kindness from someone who doesn’t want something from me.”
“Want something from you? Oh, no. I don’t want that. I’m just doing what’s right—you know, for the baby.”
“Yes, of course. Now, will you help me find the man with the robotic arm?” Her eyes widened while she waited for his response.
“You keep saying robotic arm. Could you describe it more?” Dane rubbed his cheek.
Why was he giving in to this foolishness?
“His arm was silver, hidden under a shirt, but I saw his hand. It contained three metal prongs that came together at the tip like this.” Ciera made a gripping gesture with her hand like a claw machine at an arcade, then yawned. “His name’s John.”
“Yeah, you’ve already told me that. Perhaps his arm is a prosthetic? Maybe we can start by calling the prosthesis stores and see if they have a customer named John.”
Ciera’s face lit up, but another yawn stopped it. “We? You’re going to help me?”
“If it gets your pregnant self off the streets, yeah, I guess I am. But not until later. I need to get upstairs.”
Ciera wiggled her way off the washing machine.
Dane held his hand out. “Whoa there, you’re not coming upstairs with me. Do you have anywhere to go?”
She shook her head, her violet hair falling over her face.
“Well, you can sleep in my storage unit. At least it’s off the street, out of the rain, and warm. I have camping stuff in there: a cot, sleeping bag, and lantern. You should be fine. There’s a bathroom over there.” He nodded toward the stairs.
Ciera gave a little clap. “That would be wonderful. And you’ll find me when you’re ready to help me find John?”
Dane shook his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I’ll help you on your crazy quest.”
Ciera flung her arms around him, and Dane stiffened, but returned the gesture. Her warmness pressed against him sent a tingle up his spine. With her belly snugly against him, Dane wondered if the baby would have Ciera’s dimples, and what her true hair and eye color were.
Stop it. You’ll help her, but then she’s gotta go. You don’t have a place for her in your life. You’ve already been down the road with
someone who wasn’t stable.
Chapter 8
Ciera
As soon as Ciera’s head hit the pillow in Dane’s storage unit, visions of her father and home filled her dreams.
When she woke, she lay in the darkness, contemplating where her life was taking her.
Did anyone even realize she was gone?
Sure, the mortals from Erde noticed, as there was one less fairy godmother to grant wishes and watch over them. But did anyone truly miss her? Not the fairy, but the entity? The person.
Her father would miss her.
She had no friends. She had put work and success above everything else, plus she never really fit in, being a purple fairy. If she never returned, would anyone care?
Why was she doing this to herself? The day had been long and miserable. She wouldn’t think this anymore. Tomorrow, Dane would help her find her baby’s father. He’d be happy to have the child and give it a loving home. Raise it as a human.
What if the baby has magic?
It couldn’t. Babies always took after their fathers, and that was one reason why the fathers raised them.
She sat up and waited for Dane. How long would he be? She flicked on the lantern he had given her and set it on a box beside the cot. The room was piled with things—Dane’s things, she imagined. In one box, cooking things overflowed the edges. Another held long metal sticks. She touched the tips, they were sticky, covered in white goop, and burnt marks.
Ciera limped to a box and kneeled before it. What secrets were inside? Had Dane stolen all these things? Kept them as conquests? Or were they going to be given to someone in need?
She pulled her hands away and returned to the cot, waiting. Her mind drifted to the emptiness her dreams left her with. What was her purpose in life? Grant one wish after another, but leave no legacy?
The baby kicked.
Legacy…
That’s ridiculous. You can’t keep the baby.
A knock sounded on the door. “Ciera?” Dane’s voice was gentle.
Hidden: A Pregnant Fairy Godmother's Journey... Page 4
