An Ordinary Fairy

by John Osborne

  Noah dodged her wings again. “Probably Jones. It looks like it might be a telephoto shot. He may have taken it sometime for his private collection. Thank goodness, he didn’t see you fly. At least, as far as we know he didn’t.”

  Noah grabbed Willow’s chair to steady himself in the blast of Willow’s rage and scanned the article. The uninvited photographer must have written it. He was not kind in his description of Willow’s actions, nor accurate in his description of the vandalism. Included was a quote from “a former owner of the property” which could only be Chester Jones. “There’s always been strange goings on out there, ever since the property was sold to the Brown family.” Noah received his mention, too, as “Brown’s boyfriend.” The boys at Henning’s would love reading this stuff. Willow reached the end and clicked the back key. Another article caught Noah’s eye headlined “Hoopeston Councilman Questioned.”

  “Click on that one,” he said. This article detailed the questioning of Chester Jones on suspicion of breaking and entering a rural home near Hoopeston.

  “Good! I wish they had arrested him, though,” Willow said. “He probably had an alibi.” Her wings settled down as they read.

  “Maybe we created some deterrent,” Noah said. “At least it will slow him down, so we can find the cave before he does. My spell will do the rest. Let’s go before it gets dark. I don’t think we should wander in the woods once the sun goes down.”

  Willow changed into jeans and a sweatshirt before they left. Noah explained he wouldn’t need to go into the house; his work would be outside. A hammer and two nails from Willow’s repair kit completed his supplies.

  Shadow appeared as they walked to the Big House. He had been running loose since morning. Once at the house, Noah unloaded his materials on the front porch. Last was the athame, the ceremonial knife. Willow reached to pick it up, but Noah stopped her.

  “Is this another snotty photographer thing?” she asked.

  “No, it’s a ‘keep Noah’s energies that are in the athame clean’ thing. An athame takes on the energy of its owner and if someone else handles it, power is lost.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. You’ll learn.”

  Noah had never cast a circle around an entire house before. The ritual was similar to the one he performed to heal Willow, but applied to a larger subject. He arranged and lit the candles and incense on the ground in front of the porch stairs, and then performed a cleansing of his tools.

  Willow sat on the steps watching. Shadow curled up nearby, fighting to stay awake. “What should I do?” Willow asked.

  “Watch and be beautiful. You can follow me, but stay close to the house. You can’t walk across the imaginary circle I’m going to draw. It would disturb the energies. Shadow can, animals are always welcome in sacred space.” Shadow’s ears perked up at his name, but he didn’t move.

  Noah finished his preparations and picked up the athame.

  “I’ll just stay here and observe,” Willow said. She leaned back on the steps.

  Noah walked the perimeter of the house clockwise, chanting the first portion of the circle casting charm as he drew the imaginary line with the athame. When he arrived back at the porch, Willow was sitting up, alert, her eyes wide.

  Do you feel the energy?

  He walked around the house a second time, and found Willow standing on the steps, her face flushed with excitement that brimmed over to Noah. He smiled at her and she seemed about to speak, but didn’t. A crackling sound rose as he passed her, just barely audible, maybe his imagination, as if static filled the air.

  When he finished the third and final circuit, Willow was pacing at the bottom of the stairs, expectant. Noah pointed the athame to the sky. “Blessed be!” he cried in a loud voice. He turned toward Willow.

  You look enchanted.

  Willow let out a breath. She stepped close to Noah, and a rush of hot air rustled his hair. She whispered, “Can I talk?”

  Noah laughed. “Sure. This isn’t like church, though it’s every bit as sacred. You’re feeling the magic, aren’t you?”

  Willow nodded. “Like I never have before. I don’t know how to describe it. Fairies have magic about them all the time, but this isn’t the same. It’s so…”

  “Human?” Willow nodded. “I guess it makes sense that our magics would be different. I imagine fairies’ magic is more internal. Like, in your DNA, while human magic is drawn from outside. Which is why we have to do rituals to attract the power. Or raise the energy, as we say it.” He paused and waved a hand. “Can you feel how warm the air is?”

  “Yes. Must be our magic intersecting. There’s another big difference between us. Fairy magic is just there, a part of our lives, but yours is sacred to you. It’s your religion. A religion of casting spells.”

  Noah nodded. “Exactly.”

  He completed calling the spirits and invoked the God and Goddess, while Willow watched, enthralled. He made a fourth trip around the mansion with a smoking smudge stick of sage, chanting a cleansing charm. He blessed the two acorn amulets he made earlier and nailed one to each of the doors. One last clockwise trip while chanting a protection spell completed his work. Willow followed him around these last two trips, bubbling with curiosity. Noah finished by walking around the house counterclockwise three times to undo the circle casting.

  “All done,” he announced. The atmosphere had returned to normal.

  Willow stood with her hands in her back pockets and a quizzical look on her face. “Fascinating. So, if I throw a rock at the house will it, what, disappear before it hits?”

  Noah gave her an exasperated look. “It doesn’t work that way. It’s not a force field like in science fiction. Think of it as a psychic barrier. Anyone who directs harm toward the house will find his or her energy directed elsewhere. What should happen is anyone throwing a rock will get a pain in their arm and won’t be able to do it. Or they’ll become distracted and forget what they were doing.”

  Willow looked skeptical. “Human magic is … strange.”

  At least you didn’t say peculiar.

  Darkness fell before they returned to the cottage. Noah decided to develop the film before they ate to allow time for it to dry. He set up his equipment and shut himself in the bathroom. Cramped, but it would suffice. Once the film was loaded in the tank, he opened the door. Willow stood in the kitchen preparing dinner. She sang softly to herself as she sliced and mixed and sauteed. Noah punctuated her beautiful words with the banging of the film tank on the counter whenever it was due for agitation.

  They soon sat down to a pleasant dinner. Willow lit candles and turned off the lights. As always, Noah loved the food and the company. Willow kept a foot sliding up and down his leg.

  “Noah,” Willow said, “may I have the pictures of my parents?”

  “Of course. You can have the ones in my jacket and I’ll make you a new set, with Jones cropped out of the pictures.”

  “Thank you.” Her face glowed softly. “I love you. You’re the best.”

  “I love you, too.”

  After dinner, Willow decided to work on her laptop while Noah shut himself in the bathroom to make the prints.

  The printing went smoothly. The results were good though surprising. After about half an hour, a soft knock sounded on the door during one of the periods when Noah had the light on.

  “Come on in,” he said. Willow opened the door and leaned her head in. With a sheepish expression she said, “I have to pee.”

  “Help yourself,” Noah said, and he went back to his work. He looked up when Willow didn’t move.

  “I would like some privacy,” she said.

  “Oh. Okay.” Noah moved so Willow could come in. She stood before the stool, waiting for him to leave. Noah stopped outside the doorway.

  “Now let me get this straight. I have full carnal knowledge of you, as the saying goes, but you want privacy when you take a leak?” Noah was delighted to feel exasperation ooze out of Willow.

&n
bsp; “This is different,” she said with acid in her voice.

  “Oh, I understand now, you should have said it was a ‘different’ thing right away.” He grinned broadly.

  Willow’s eyes narrowed. “Noah Phelps, you can be a real smartass.” She slammed the door in his face. Her voice came from behind the closed door. “And women don’t take a leak, they pee!”

  Lest she hear his laughter, Noah walked into the front room. He wandered to Willow’s desk and found all the pictures of her parents lined up on the bookshelf where she could see them as she worked. Her desk was neat and organized, everything aligned perfectly. Piles of paper were tidy. Willow’s pens were obviously in a particular spot and order. Her calendar book sat at a precise forty-five degree angle to the laptop. Willowy-ness abounded in her workspace.

  This is just a little too OCD for a cowboy.

  Noah couldn’t blame the devil since he didn’t believe in him. Call it a compulsion, or a creative spirit within him. Whatever the cause, he added some Noah-ness to Willow’s desktop by slightly rearranging everything. Perhaps more than slightly.

  The toilet flushed and Noah swiftly moved to the kitchen, reaching it as Willow opened the door and stepped out. She frowned at him. Noah pasted on a remorseful look and swept her off her feet backward, dipping low for a romantic kiss.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

  Willow smiled up at him. “I guess I forgive you.” Noah stood her up and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

  One … two … three…

  “Noah Phelps!”

  When he finished his work and the prints were drying, Noah decided to process his digital photos from the last two days and catch up email. Willow banished him to the kitchen, forbidding him to leave until called. His comment that he hoped her back itched so he could ignore her pleadings went unacknowledged.

  Noah did accomplish a lot working without distraction, a fact he would never admit to Willow. For the next two hours, only her frequent trips to the bathroom disturbed him. He completed the photos taken the last two days and read all his email. After conducting a review of his project plan and the remaining sites, he decided tomorrow would be his last day in the field. By nine o’clock, he finished and began packing his things. Willow stopped typing and rolled her chair into view.

  “Are you finished?” she asked.

  “Yep. Are you still mad at me or do I have to stay in the kitchen?”

  “You can come out if you promise not to touch anything.”

  “I can’t touch anything?” Noah said. He gave her a head to toe looking over. “I thought if I touched some things maybe you would forgive me.”

  “You know what I mean. What has gotten into you lately? You are so … ornery the last few days.”

  Noah frowned in concentration. “I think it’s the Willowy-ness rubbing off on me.” Willow shook her head and went back to typing.

  “Tomorrow is my last day in the field,” Noah said.

  Willow’s face brightened at this news. “Good! We can concentrate on finding the cave.”

  “Yes. Tomorrow when I’m finished, we’ll go back to the Big House and try to find the entrance again. Sunday, too, if need be.”

  Willow typed while Noah packed the remainder of his stuff and set it by the front door. He retrieved the new photos from the bathroom and spread them on the kitchen table. He called Willow to come see them.

  “Wow,” she said after studying them for a few moments. Every photo save one contained an image of her mother. Some were clearer than others, and in some, she was just partly in the frame, but the wings were unmistakable. Noah felt a mix of emotions from Willow, but she didn’t speak for a minute or so.

  She frowned. “Where’s Dad? He’s not in a single picture.”

  “More important, where’s Jones? If he didn’t activate the camera, who did? I think your father triggered the motion detector while your mother stood or floated or whatever in front of the camera. Jones may have come in later after the film was all used.”

  “Can a ghost do that?”

  “I’ve always heard when a ghost appears the room gets cold, because they have to suck energy from their surroundings to become visible. The motion detector senses temperature changes when a warm body comes into its range. It’s possible he learned how to activate it.”

  Willow grinned. “My father was very intelligent. I’m sure he could figure it out.” She returned her attention to the prints.

  Noah yawned. “Are you almost done working? We were up sort of late last night. I’m ready for bed.”

  “Me, too,” Willow said. She fluttered her eyelashes. “I suppose you want to mark me again.”

  Noah smiled.

  Count on it.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said. “I’m removing the snooper program from Chester’s computer.”

  Noah sat down on the sofa and stretched his legs out while Willow worked. Another yawn overtook him. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Noah’s nose itched. He scratched it without opening his eyes.

  A moment later, his nose itched again, as if a fly had landed on it. He waved a hand in front of his nose and the itch stopped. He thought he heard a faint giggle, but he dozed off again.

  The third time his nose itched he made a quick grab in front of his face. There was a shriek of surprise and then giggling. Noah opened his eyes and saw … nothing.

  “Well, what have we here? An invisible fairy wing.” The wing tugged at his hand trying to escape, to the accompaniment of more giggling. “I wonder where the invisible fairy could be.” He reached his free hand out where he thought she might be and was rewarded by another tug on the wingtip as the fairy tried to duck. Another giggle gave her away. He waved his hand about and found her.

  “Oh, I think I found a fairy ear. Feels like a cute little ear with a dragonfly earring.” The tugging on the wingtip stopped. Noah ran his hand around her face and hair. “Let’s see. Short hair, a little wavy on top. Eyes deep set. Perky little nose. Round cheeks. Impossibly soft skin. A small mouth with soft, full lips. It must be Winking Willow.”

  Willow reappeared, wearing nothing but her white glow. She knelt on the floor, her face radiant with affection and arousal. She kissed Noah’s fingertips. “May I have my wing back?”

  “Sure. What’s this?” Noah traced his finger along a line of glowing skin that began beneath her breasts and extended to the bottom of her belly; she squirmed at his touch and her wings rose to flight position and vibrated with a rattling sound. A seductive smile curved her lips; her heat washed through him.

  “That’s a sign your fairy wants to consummate,” she said. She rose to her feet and lay across his lap. Noah took her in his arms and they transported to the sweet world of lovers’ kisses. Noah’s hand drifted down her belly, following the heat of the newly discovered illumination.

  Willow whispered in his ear. “Where you goin’ there, Cowboy?”

  “Heaven.”

  Willow giggled, and then gasped at his touch. “See any angels?” she asked, breathless.

  “I see a beautiful little winged creature, but she’s no angel.” Another giggle.

  “I love your touch, Noah. I need it.”

  “I’m glad.”

  After many kisses, Willow whispered in his ear. “Are you sure you’re not too tired?”

  Noah pulled her tight against himself. “What do you think?” Willow arched her eyebrows and grinned. “What about you?” he asked. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  Willow’s smile became lustful and she broadcast an astonishing sensual pull. Her wings rattled again and a tremor of excitement shook her entire frame. “There’s more than one way to consummate a fairy. Come up to my little fairy bed and I’ll show you.”

  Twenty-Two

  Noah woke before sunrise. Before him was the most beautiful creature imaginable. Naked, she lay on her back, arms thrown carelessly above her head. Her muscular chest rose and fe
ll in perfect rhythm with Noah’s breathing. No bedclothes impeded his view; she had covered him during the night, he remembered. Sweet, earthy fragrance tinged the cool air of the cottage, mixed with the lingering scent of Willow’s arousal.

  Images of their lovemaking danced in Noah’s mind. They hadn’t joined themselves together; instead, they had entwined, experimented, searched out which touches pleased and which drove wild. Touches became kisses and kisses explored and pleasured every sensitive place. Peak after peak passed between them. Sleep had not come until far into the night.

  They had adjusted quickly to sharing a bed, as if they had done so before, though at one point in the night Noah had discovered that a fairy with a two hundred pound man lying on her wings was not a happy bedfellow.

  Willow’s breathing changed, becoming rapid and shallow. Gooseflesh ran down Noah’s back and he grew afraid. The ever-present Shadow raised his head from where he slept on the floor. Willow’s eyes flew open and she sat upright, her wings snapping into flight position.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said, her expression fearful. “Something awful has happened.” Before he could speak, she was out of bed and grabbing for clothes. Noah climbed out and did the same. Shadow trotted down the stairs and stood by the front door, listening.

  “Did you hear something?” he asked.

  “No, I felt something. A feeling of, I don’t know, anguish or pain. It woke me.”

  They pulled on clothes from the night before. Willow was ahead of him as they pulled on boots and shoes. She unlocked the door and opened it.

  “Willow, wait,” Noah said. “You can’t go out there alone.” He donned his jacket and cap while she fretted by the door. Her dread filled him.

  Willow opened the iron gate and Shadow bolted around them. He ran about twenty feet, stopped and swiveled his head about, scanning the clearing with his nose high in the air. Determining a source for his interest, he barked once and ran down the Big House path. He stopped near the edge of the woods and dropped his head to examine an object obscured by the early morning gloom.