An Ordinary Fairy

by John Osborne

  Shortly after eleven, the black candle’s flame dwindled to a spark and went out. A tiny smoke plume marked its passing.

  Ready for the second act.

  Searching through the bowl of acorns, Noah located the smallest. Next, he rummaged in his ritual kit to find a short piece of cord. He needed a small square of cloth; he settled on the red felt from his athame cover. With his emergency sewing kit, he fashioned a tiny bag from the felt, into which he placed the single acorn. He sewed it shut with thread and tied it securely to the cord.

  At midnight, Noah fastened the amulet necklace around Willow’s neck. The acorn represented the protective strength of the oak tree, and was a strong talisman against evil. The day had changed to Sunday, the best time to bestow such a gift.

  Noah flopped into the easy chair, his eyes on Willow.

  When did you steal my heart, little fairy?

  I think it was the first time you smiled.

  Noah continued to check on Willow, wiping her with the cool cloth, until the sweating stopped. She didn’t wake enough to speak again. About three o’clock he covered her legs with the sheet and pulled it up snug to her underarms. Her breathing was smooth and regular. He collapsed into the chair, leaned back, and immediately fell asleep.

  Twelve

  Gray dawn filtered into the cottage when Noah woke with penetrating pain in his neck and sporadic beeping in his ears.

  “Good morning, Cowboy,” Willow said. She still lay on the sofa, but she was smiling, with some sparkle in her eyes. Shadow was nearby, alert to every move Willow made, his tail thumping the floor.

  “Hi, sweetie,” Noah said. He rose slowly, working the kinks out of his back, crossed the room and sat next to Willow. A hand on her forehead confirmed normal temperature, but the light in her eyes told him she was okay, despite looking exhausted. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “With my fingers.”

  “I guess you’re better.”

  “Except for minor things like I’m starving, I’m weak as a kitten and my gut feels like someone punched me twenty times.” She rolled toward him, wincing. “And when you lay on your wings for almost twenty-four hours they get itchy.” Noah placed a hand on her belly and rubbed it. She smiled at the intimate touch, and then lifted the sheet from her chest and peered beneath it. “I seem to be missing something.” She lowered the sheet and managed a flirty look. “I hope I’m not missing my virtue as well.”

  Noah laughed. “What little virtue you had is still intact.” She stuck her tongue out at him and laughed, then grimaced again. Noah cupped her face with his hand. Wonderful to see, a faint glow lit her cheeks.

  “You scared me,” he said.

  “I scared me, too.” She fingered the amulet. “What’s this?”

  “That’s for protection. Do you remember doing the ritual last night?”

  “No. What ritual?”

  The laptop beeped.

  “Oh—I need to let Rowan know you’re alright.” He moved to the desk. “I emailed her to see if she had any medical advice.”

  Noah studied the inbox. Rowan had emailed about fifteen minutes ago. The new message was a second one from her. As he watched, two more arrived from other concerned senders, then three immediately after those. He opened Rowan’s first message, which had no real suggestions but frantic promises to get help. He quickly typed a reply that all was well and he would tell her more later. Two more messages arrived as he typed. He returned to the sofa.

  “Sounds as if lots of people care about you,” Noah said. “Unusual for a hermit.”

  “So tell me about this ritual. Did you heal me?”

  “I don’t know. I know you’re better, and you began getting better after I did the ritual. It wasn’t just a healing ritual, though. It was a spell-breaking spell, if you follow me. It’s possible someone put a hex on you.”

  Willow raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. Think about it. Have you ever been so sick before?”

  “No, I don’t think ever.”

  “I think your fever was too high and left too fast for this to have been food poisoning. I could be wrong, I’m no expert.” He touched the amulet. “Part of the ritual put protective power into this. It holds an acorn, which is a symbol of the strength of the oak tree and is good protection from evil. I want you to wear it all the time.”

  “So what did you do to me? Did you draw magic symbols on me?”

  “No. You slept through the whole thing. The ritual creates sacred space for magic and focuses the natural energies on my intent, which was to cleanse you. Your part was to lay there and be beautiful.”

  Willow smiled sheepishly. “Thank you for everything, Noah. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” She caressed his face.

  “Would you like a bath?” he asked. “I opened the valve on the stove last night so the water should be warm by now.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “Good.” He brought his face close to hers. “Because beautiful as you are, fairy sweat stinks.”

  “I’m sorry.” She pulled the sheet over her head. “I bet my fairy breath stinks, too, after all that puking.”

  “A little. Do you think you can stand up? Try sitting up first.” He helped swing her legs around and she sat on the edge of the sofa. She wiggled her wings out from under her and moved them around.

  “I’m too weak to lift my wings. I think I can stand up, though.” Noah handed her the white robe.

  “Shadow and I will go out while you get up. He’s not been out all night.”

  “Noah, you don’t need to go out. It’s not as if you haven’t seen me nude, you know. I remember being plopped into the pool last night.”

  Noah shrugged. “It’s the right thing to do.” He walked to the door and Shadow sprang up to follow. “I’ll leave the door open a crack. Holler when you’re decent, or if you need me.”

  He let Shadow out, stepped outside, and swung the door almost shut. Shadow ran to the nearest tree and hiked his leg for an impossibly long time, and then ran in circles looking for the right spot to finish his morning tasks. Noah walked a few steps from the door but didn’t stray far. He took a long deep breath. The cold damp air smelled of wet leaves and grass. The overcast sky looked likely to stay all day.

  Coffee would sure be good about now.

  The door opened and Willow stood blinking at the morning glare. “Okay, I’m decent.”

  Noah went in and took hold of her elbow. Walking slowly in case she became lightheaded, he guided her to the bathroom. He pulled the door closed and went into the kitchen.

  “I’ll put some water on for tea,” he said loud enough she could hear through the closed door. “Do you think you can eat something?”

  “Yes, I’m starving.”

  “Coming right up.” Noah busied himself with the teakettle and found a skillet to fry eggs. Before starting to cook, he went into the poolroom. The water steamed in the room’s cool air. He stuck a hand in the water and found it just right. He searched out some bubble bath and opened the jar. Not knowing how much to use, he dumped in a bunch, then some more, since the pool was bigger than a normal tub. He thrashed the water around to create some bubbles.

  Noah stood up just as a wave of embarrassment came over him.

  That’s from Willow.

  The toilet flushed and Willow came out of the bathroom, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I just looked in the mirror. I hate for you to see me like this.”

  “It can’t be any worse than seeing you barf your socks up. Come here and I’ll help you sit down.”

  “Oooh, a bubble bath.” She smiled, and then raised her eyebrows at Noah. “How much did you use?”

  “Well, I wasn’t sure so I just dumped a bunch in.”

  “I see.” She walked to the edge and Noah helped her sit down and swing her legs into the water.

  “Can you make it in by yourself?”

  “I thi
nk so. Thanks, Noah.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

  “By the way.” She tilted her head to one side and smiled. “Where did all this sweetheart and sweetie stuff come from?”

  “Uh, it sort of popped out last night. I’ll stop if you want.”

  “No. Don’t.”

  “Call if you need me.” Noah stepped into the kitchen to attend to the eggs. He heard Willow sigh with contentment as she slid into the pool.

  Noah busied himself with tea, eggs, and toast while he listened to Willow move about in the pool. He loaded the food onto a single plate and picked up the two mugs of tea with one hand.

  “I’m bringing breakfast in, are you down in the water?”

  “Yes, Mister Prude,” she called out.

  When Noah walked in, Willow sat low in the sudsy water, her eyes tired. “I’m exhausted,” she said, “and weak.” Her wings floated on the water, unmoving.

  “Move closer and I’ll feed you,” Noah said, as he first sat down, and then lay down on his stomach. Willow looked surprised, but moved to the side of the pool. Noah scooped up some eggs and fed them to her. He handed her some toast, which she devoured. They shared the plate and the fork and small talk for a few minutes, as if this were an everyday occurrence, for a man to feed breakfast to a naked little fairy while she bathed. When they finished the eggs and toast, Noah handed her a mug of tea and sat cross-legged.

  “That was good,” Willow said. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” They sat in silence for a while sipping the tea. Noah contemplated how fate brought them together. Willow’s thoughts wandered, judging by her expressions and her feelings.

  “Would you like for me to wash your hair?” Noah asked.

  “Sure, what woman would turn that down? There’s a pitcher under the bathroom sink for rinsing.”

  Noah retrieved the pitcher and shampoo while Willow turned around with her back to the side of the pool. As Noah walked in, she slid under the water for a second to wet her hair. He proceeded to shampoo her hair, accompanied by many oohs and ahs.

  “I think you’ve done this before,” Willow said.

  “Never for a fairy.”

  “Run some water from the spring to rinse. It won’t seem cold today like it did last night.” She shivered. “I have never been so cold in my life.”

  Noah filled the pitcher and knelt behind her. “Lean back.” Willow leaned too far, so that her chest rose out of the milky water.

  Oops.

  Noah rinsed her hair without comment. “All done. Ready to get out?”

  “Yes. I think I can manage on my own power.”

  “Okay. If you need me, holler.” Noah picked up the plate, mugs and pitcher and went into the kitchen. He stacked the dishes to wash later. Willow appeared in the kitchen wrapped in a big towel cinched below her droopy wings, which dripped water on the floor. Her expression was tired.

  “Would you dry my wings? I can’t reach them and I’m too weak to shake them.”

  “Sure,” Noah said, but he wasn’t. “Go sit on the sofa. I’ll get a towel.” When he retrieved the towel, he also grabbed Willow’s hairbrush. She sat sideways on the sofa. Noah sat down behind her and contemplated her wings. “How do I do this?” he asked.

  “Just dry them like you’re wiping off fan blades. You won’t hurt me, they’re flexible.”

  These aren’t fan blades. They’re part of you.

  Noah gently patted her four wings dry, gingerly moving them about. They were like tough plastic, with stiff ridges through them, and hundreds of little squares of some translucent substance, chitin he supposed, the stuff of insect wings. Near the front edge of all four wings was a rectangular area made up of twenty or so opaque squares.

  “What happens if you break a wing?” he asked.

  “It hurts like hell. It may not look like it, but there are nerves along the ridges. I broke one across the width once.” Noah winced at the thought. “It wouldn’t heal. I had to wait for molt before I could fly again.”

  “Molt?”

  “Guess I haven’t told you. Early every spring fairies shed their wings and grow a new set, late February or early March for me. It’s a nasty time for us. It’s like a three-week long menstrual period.”

  “I’ll be sure not to be around for that party,” Noah said with a chuckle. He finished with her wings and brushed her hair. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  “No one’s ever brushed my hair that I can recall. Where did you come from, Noah Phelps?”

  Oh, I just appeared in the woods one day.

  Noah finished brushing, dried Willow’s shoulders and retrieved her robe. He excused himself and made a visit to the bathroom. When he came out Willow had her robe on and was preparing to lie down on the sofa. She looked worn out.

  “Noah, you look like you could use some sleep. I’m going to lie down here again, why don’t you go up in the loft and grab a nap?”

  Noah had to admit he felt whipped. “Sounds like a good idea.” He tucked Willow in and sat beside her for a moment. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

  “Sleep well, little fairy.”

  “You, too, sweet man.”

  Noah dragged up the stairs to the loft. He lay down on his fairy’s bed, submerged into her wonderful fragrance on the bedclothes, and fell fast asleep.

  The aroma of coffee filled Noah’s nose when he awoke hours later. He sat up to get his bearings. The clock by the bed read one-thirty. Four hours since he lay down. The cottage was still. Then the toilet flushed and he heard Willow leave the bathroom, humming to herself.

  Noah walked down from the loft. Willow met him at the foot of the stairs. She was dressed in jeans and a blue tank top, and seemed chipper for someone who was deathly ill the night before. She smiled and gave him a long hug, her head laid on his chest. He wrapped her in his arms. Many emotions flowed from her, too many to identify, but all were good.

  “Feeling better?” she asked.

  “Yes. You look like you’re bouncing back.” She relaxed her grip and he held her at arms length. She looked great, maybe tired, but overall she seemed to be okay.

  “Yes, I feel stronger all the time. My gut is still sore, though. Are you hungry? I already ate. I was starving again when I woke up. Would you like a grilled cheese sandwich and some tomato soup?”

  “Perfect. Do I smell coffee? How did you do that?”

  “I have my resources.” She grinned and led him to the kitchen. She had a sandwich made up and threw it into a skillet to grill. Noah sat down at the table where a plate sat ready.

  Willow filled a mug with coffee from a small coffeemaker on the counter and proudly presented it to him. “In your own mug, I might add.”

  “Thank you.” He took the mug from her and read the printing on the side: “Deja Brew: The feeling you’ve had this coffee before.” He laughed, to Willow’s delight. “Very appropriate.”

  This brew smelled very strong. Willow watched expectantly, so he took a sip.

  Jeez! This is strong enough to walk away on its own.

  “Good stuff,” he said and put the mug down again. Willow beamed with pride. He had to work out a way to dilute this before he drank the rest.

  Willow soon set soup and a sandwich before him. She sat opposite him with her elbows on the table and her chin resting on her hands. She didn’t talk, but just watched him eat. He sipped coffee whenever he built up the courage, trying not to shudder. Somehow, he would have to break it to her, but not today.

  “How long have you been awake?” he asked.

  “A couple of hours. I caught up on emails while you slept. I hadn’t answered any since Friday afternoon, and a bunch came in this morning. Rowan did a good job getting the word out. So did I. Of course, she had to have all the details. You’re the talk of the FairyNet.”

  “Does everyone know I’m a Wiccan?”

  “Yep. A powerful one, too.”

  Great.

  “Have I ever mentioned to you that I�
�m a covert Wiccan?”

  “No. Did I do something wrong telling everyone?”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I keep it to myself, but I think your fairy friends are used to secrets, so it should be okay. None of them knows anyone I know. I’m what we call a broom closet Wiccan. I’ve not gone public with what I believe.”

  Willow looked curious. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to deal with the fallout it can create. Not everyone appreciates having a witch in the neighborhood. My parents know, but it was difficult for them to adjust, especially Mom.” He paused for a moment. “She would think I was a goner for sure if she knew I had a fairy friend.”

  They moved to the sofa when Noah finished eating.

  “Tell me about your hex idea,” Willow said. “Do you think it might have been Chester?”

  Noah shrugged. “No way to know for sure. Hexing doesn’t leave fingerprints. At first, I thought he might have put something in your water when we were at his house, but he wouldn’t have done that if he thought there was a chance you might like his idea about the Big House. If he had, he would have grabbed it when you acted interested. I don’t know how he could have cast a spell on you, though.”

  “Why?”

  “To cast a spell on a person, good or bad, you need to have some possession, a personal object or a lock of hair. That’s a rule as old as the hills. The idea is the spirits can’t find the right person to work on without that identifier. Modern science eventually caught up with ancient magic, so now we say we need to have a person’s DNA to work a spell.”

  “I don’t know how he would have gotten my DNA, unless he used my water glass.”

  “That’s possible, but it’s flimsy. You didn’t ‘own’ the glass long and you only sipped a little.” Noah paused. “When you cut your hair last week, what did you do with what you trimmed off?”

  Willow furrowed her brow in thought for a moment. “Most all my trash gets recycled or goes on my compost pile, but some stuff I put in a little can on the back porch of the Big House. Louie takes it to put with his trash whenever he’s here. That’s where I put the hair, I’m sure. You don’t think Chester went through my trash, do you?” She looked revolted. “How would he get it? I can tell when someone’s at the Big House. I think.”