by Angela Hunt
Fairy
Angela Hunt
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Afterword
Preview of Harbingers 16
Other Books in the Series
Also by Angela Hunt
For more information
Published by Amaris Media International.
Copyright © 2016 Angela Hunt
Cover Design: Angela Hunt
Photo credits: © Igor Mejzes – fotolia.com
© Viktoriagavril—fotolia.com.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any other means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without prior permission from the publisher.
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or www.harbingersseries.com.
HARBINGERS
A novella series by
Bill Myers, Jeff Gerke, Angela Hunt,
and Alton Gansky
In this fast-paced world with all its demands, the four of us wanted to try something new. Instead of the longer novel format, we wanted to write something equally as engaging but that could be read in one or two sittings—on the plane, waiting to pick up the kids from soccer, or as an evening’s read.
We also wanted to play. As friends and seasoned novelists, we thought it would be fun to create a game we could participate in together. The rules were simple:
Rule #1: Each of us will write as if we were one of the characters in the series:
Bill Myers will write as Brenda, the street-hustling tattoo artist who sees images of the future.
Frank Peretti will write as the professor, the atheist ex-priest ruled by logic.
Jeff Gerke will write as Chad, the mind reader with devastating good looks and an arrogance to match.
Angela Hunt will write as Andi, the brilliant-but-geeky young woman who sees inexplicable patterns.
Alton Gansky will write as Tank, the naïve, big-hearted jock with a surprising connection to a healing power.
Rule #2: Instead of the five of us writing one novella together (we’re friends but not crazy), we would write it like a TV series. There would be an overarching storyline into which we’d plug our individual novellas, with each story written from our character’s point of view.
If you’re keeping track, this is the order:
Harbingers 1—The Call—Bill Myers
Harbingers 2—The Haunted—Frank Peretti
Harbingers 3—The Sentinels—Angela Hunt
Harbingers 4—The Girl—Alton Gansky
Volumes 1-4 omnibus: Cycle One: Invitation
Harbingers 5—The Revealing—Bill Myers
Harbingers 6—Infestation—Frank Peretti
Harbingers 7—Infiltration—Angela Hunt
Harbingers 8—The Fog—Alton Gansky
Volumes 5-8 omnibus: Cycle Two: Mosaic
Harbingers 9—Leviathan—Bill Myers
Harbingers 10—The Mind Pirates—Frank Peretti
Harbingers 11—Hybrids—Angela Hunt
Harbingers 12—The Village—Alton Gansky
Volumes 9-12 omnibus: Cycle Three: The Probing
Harbingers 13—Piercing the Veil—Bill Myers
Harbingers 14—Home Base—Jeff Gerke
Harbingers 15—Fairy—Angela Hunt
Harbingers 16: ??—Alton Gansky
There you have it, at least for now. We hope you’ll find these as entertaining in the reading as we did in the writing.
Bill, Jeff, Angie, and Al
Chapter 1
“What is this?” I picked up the box Chad had just tossed into my lap.
“The Smartech Simultalk 36G Wireless Communication system,” he said, tossing identical boxes to Brenda, Daniel, and Tank. “Now whenever we’re out in the field, we won’t have to rely on cell phones or extra-sensory perception. We’ll rely on this state-of-the art professional communication system.”
I opened the box and pulled out a manual and two devices—an earpiece and a mouthpiece.
“I saw Katie Perry wearing something like this the other day,” Brenda said, tossing her manual aside. “Looked cool.”
I bent the wire attached to the mouth piece—a slender plastic tube—and hooked it over my ear. “Did I do this right?”
Chad nodded. “Looks great—of course, anything would look great on—”
“Got it,” I interrupted, cutting him off. “And this little plastic thing goes into my ear?”
“Just like a hearing aid.” Chad demonstrated with his earpiece. “See? Practically invisible.”
“The mouth piece isn’t,” Brenda pointed out.
“But that’s the beauty of the Smartech Simultalk,” Chad said, grinning. “You can slip that little mouthpiece anywhere, as long as it’s within thirty-six inches of your face. You could put it in your collar, hide it in the cuff of a sleeve, even slip it in your belt. It’s going to pick up any sound in your vicinity.”
I glanced at Tank, who hadn’t said much. He wore a frown the size of Texas and was still pulling pieces out of his box. “And why do we need this?” he asked.
“Communication, my man,” Chad said, flashing that Ultra-bright smile. “An unlimited number of radios can be added to the system in talk or listen-only mode. We can talk simultaneously without wires—and this is a lot less clunky than the old systems where you had to wait for one person to finish before another person could begin.”
“Hang on.” I pointed to the box. “It says here that we can have one-way or full duplex operation at the touch of a button. What button?”
“Look in the bottom of your box.”
I pulled out a couple of pieces of cardboard, then found a black plastic gizmo about the size of a pack of playing cards. The thing featured an antenna and two buttons on top, but not much else.
“I’ll teach you noobs how to use it,” Chad continued, oozing arrogance with every smile. “In fact, why don’t we have a dry run this afternoon? We can walk through the hotel and practice to test the limits of the system. After all, we wouldn’t want to head out to some dangerous assignment without knowing what we’re doing.”
Brenda tipped her head back and laughed, and even Tank joined in.
“What’s so funny?” Chad looked from them to me. “Care to let me in on the joke?”
I chuckled. “The thing is, Chad, we’ve gone out every time without knowing what we’re doing, and we’ve survived.”
“Without you,” Brenda said, arching a brow.
“Then maybe it’s time to try a new approach.” He looked around the circle, his eyes serious. “You guys have had some close calls, and most of the time you’ve been playing defense. Maybe it’s time to up the ante. Learn some new plays. Go on the offensive for a change.”
“Mixed metaphors aside,” I said, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes, “I do think these communication gizmos are a good idea. I hate it when we get separated, and if these can help, great.”
“And what’s with this you guys stuff?” Tank asked, looking at Chad. “For better or worse, you’re one of us now. So make that a we, all right?”
I looked away, unable to stand the sight of Tank being nice and gentlemanly while most of the time I wanted to slap Chad upsid
e the head. He was smart, he had gifts, but we had to pay for those gifts by tolerating his smarminess, his sexist comments, and his all-round obnoxiousness.
I caught Daniel grinning at Chad as if they shared some kind of private joke. I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling those two were communicating on some level the rest of us couldn’t reach. Daniel had never been exceptionally verbal, but he and Chad had become as close as peas in a pod, probably because Chad had been popping into his brain or something to tell him bedtime stories every night . . .
I’d have to speak to Brenda. Chad couldn’t possibly be a good influence on an impressionable boy.
“All right—I agree that we need to start playin’ offense,” Brenda said. “How do we do that?”
She looked at me, I looked at Tank, and Tank looked at Chad—who looked at Daniel. Daniel nodded soberly. “Wait,” he said. “Wait for Watchers.”
“There.” Chad smiled, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “We wait for the Watchers to give us a clue. And in the meantime, we practice using our comms.”
I blew out a breath and caught Brenda’s eye. She made a face that seemed to say Can you believe this?, but since she had no better ideas, she didn’t say anything.
Neither did I.
“This is Andi.” I adjusted my comms mouthpiece, then slipped a straw into the iced tea the waitress had just brought me. “Is anyone listening?”
Chad had promised that the operation of our comm units would be simple. All the remote devices continually monitored whichever unit we designated as the master. To talk, we simply pressed the second button on our transceiver, then waited for someone to respond. Simple, right?
“Andi?” Tank’s booming voice filled my ear, causing me to wince. “Are you still in the hotel?”
“I’m in the downstairs restaurant. Where are you?”
He laughed. “I’m at the airport ticket counter. But you sound like you’re right around the corner.”
I smiled. Considering that the hotel was part of the airport’s D terminal, he was right around the corner. Sort of.
“That’s good. Brenda, Daniel—where are you guys?”
I heard nothing, then Brenda’s exasperated sigh filled my ears. “We’re at the airport, too—at the ice cream counter in Terminal B. Daniel was hungry.”
I smiled. So far, so good. At least we knew the comms worked. “Chad?” I asked. “Where are you?”
No answer.
“Maybe he’s out of range,” Tank said.
“Or chasing some babe,” Brenda suggested.
I groaned. “I hope he catches one,” I said. “Someone who’ll give him a piece of her—”
“Chad here, at Dallas central. Good to hear all of you.”
I exhaled in guilty relief. He was fine. And he hadn’t been chasing a babe or one of the ghasts we’d met when we first moved into our suites at the Grand Hyatt. I never wanted to meet another one of those creepy things.
“Were you takin’ a nap?” Brenda asked. “You were awfully slow on the uptake.”
“Sorry, guys—had to answer the door. We got a special delivery package.”
A premonition nipped at the back of my neck. “Who’s it from?”
“It’s addressed to you, Andi, but the bellman let me sign for it since you didn’t answer your door. Should I open it?”
“Wait,” I said, signaling the waitress. “I think we should open it together.”
“Suit yourself,” Chad answered. “I’ll be waiting in my love nest.”
“Excuse me?”
“My suite. So get yourself up here post haste.”
“We’re on our way.”
Chapter 2
Twenty minutes later, we had all gathered around the giant television in Chad’s suite. I had opened the box and pulled out a letter and a DVD in a plain cardboard sleeve. Chad sat on the floor by the TV, and lifted his hand for the DVD. After slipping it in the slot, he found a seat on the sofa next to Daniel.
We all leaned forward as the black screen filled with two words: THE WATCHERS. Then a voice spoke: “Greetings, team! We hope you are well and rested since your move into the hotel. If you have any problem with the accommodations, or with anything on your journeys, you should memorize our email address: [email protected]. We monitor the site continually, and we’ll get help to you as soon as we can.”
“A help line.” Brenda’s mouth curved in a smile. “We coulda used one of those when we first got together. What took ‘em so long?”
“Be grateful,” I murmured, my eyes intent on the screen. “At least we have a sponsor now.”
I couldn’t help but wonder why the so-called Watchers were so secretive with us. We were supposed to be on the same team, so why would they be unwilling to show their faces? Would be nice to put a face to the voice, but apparently full disclosure wasn’t part of the plan.
“We’ve hired a plane for you,” the resonant baritone continued. “It’s a private jet leaving from Hanger 44 tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m. Be on time, please, and dress in comfortable clothes and shoes. You might have to do a bit of walking. You should also bring your communications system and the video camera.”
“What video camera?” Tank asked.
Chad grinned. “No worries—I have it.”
Of course he did.
“One more thing,” the speaker said. “You’ll need your passports. We are sending you to meet Mr. Benedicto Prospero, a television broadcaster and celebrity in his homeland. He speaks English, so you should have no trouble communicating with him. If you speak any Spanish at all, however, it might be useful to brush up on your skills. You might need to interview several people on your journey.”
“So where are we goin’?” Brenda growled. “Half the world speaks Español.”
“Mr. Prospero is going to show you something unusual,” the unnamed speaker continued. “Your mission is to verify the object, determine where it came from, and see if you can establish its purpose. The task may be more difficult than we anticipate, but do your best and send a report when you return. Take photographs, record video, and gather any evidence you can transport home. And if you have any difficulty meeting your contact, you might try asking him about the fairy.”
The voice—whoever it was—paused. “Thank you for your willingness to serve in our effort, and Godspeed. Enjoy Mexico City.”
We heard a second of silence, a short hiss, and then nothing.
Chad cracked a smile. “Sort of ripping off Mission Impossible, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, maybe,” I admitted. “But I didn’t hear anything about the DVD self-destructing.”
“What’s this about a fairy?” Brenda asked. “Compared to the monsters we’ve encountered lately, fairies sound like a nice change.”
“Yeah.” I parked my chin in my palm and smiled. “When I was a kid, I had a fairy costume. Lots of tulle and sparkles and a magic wand.”
“Wings?” Chad asked.
“Oh, for sure. Can’t be a fairy without beautiful wings.”
“Mexico City.” Tank’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that a humongous place?”
“It is,” I said, trying to remember what little I knew about Mexico’s capital. I unfolded the letter from the package and skimmed it. “This letter doesn’t give us any more information—it has Benedicto Prospero’s name and address, and reminds us to send a report when we get back. It also reminds us that we can get help if we send an email.”
“I don’t get the fairy thing,” Tank said. “Sounds crazy.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of code,” Brenda said, shrugging. “A secret password.”
“Like Tinkerbell,” Daniel suggested.
Brenda groaned. “He’s been watching old Disney movies. Peter Pan is his latest fave.”
“You know, we ought to be able to find out something from that email addy,” Chad said, crossing his arms. “Or am I the only one bright enough to be curious about our benefactors?”
“I’m curious,” I said, “but n
ot so curious that I want to go snooping in the business of people who are clearly on our side. If they don’t want to give us more information, maybe we should respect that.”
“It’s just a matter of looking up watchers.com and seeing who owns the domain,” Chad said. “Nothing wrong with that.”
Tank laughed. “I don’t know much about computers, but these people are too smart to make it easy.”
“Yeah,” Brenda agreed. “I’m just grateful they’re on our side. If they don’t want to provide life histories, I’m good with that.”
“And they’ve given us a way to ask for help.” I thumped the folded letter against my palm. “That’s amazing.”
“Agreed,” Brenda said, looking at Daniel. “But is anyone else concerned that they seem pretty sure we’re gonna need it?”
We landed at a private airport outside Mexico City around lunch time—and I was glad the trip didn’t take longer.
When Chad met us downstairs, his eyes were watery and his nose red. “I hab a cobe in my nose,” he said, wearing a face like a beaten dog’s. He shuffled over to me. “Wanna kiss me and make it better?”
I recoiled from the suggestion and backed away from his germs. “Are you really sick? Should you stay home?”
“I’m all right,” Chad said, holding a finger under his nose. “I—I—” He sneezed. “Sorry ‘bout that. I should be fine in a little while. Just took a heavy duty antihistamine.”
“Great,” I said, leading the way toward the waiting cab. “We’ll be investigating and you’ll be asleep.”
As I expected, Chad did nod off during the flight. I hoped he’d wake with a clear head and be fully functional, but with Chad, I wasn’t sure what “fully functional” was.
He wasn’t the only one with physical issues. For the last hour of the flight, Tank’s stomach growled so loudly that we could hear it rumbling throughout the cabin. At first, I was embarrassed for the big guy, but when he started talking back to his stomach, it became a running gag. “Who’s the big bad on this adventure?” Brenda joked. “A ghast? A flying sphere? No—it’s Cowboy’s belly!”
