Changeling: An Appalachian Magic Novel Book 2 (Appalachian Magic Series) Read online

  Claribel’s eyes widened and she took a step backward.

  “What’s wrong?” Skye waved the scissors in the air. “You know I’m not going to hurt you with these.”

  “Of course not.” Claribel shuddered. “It’s just that I’m … allergic to certain metals. Make sure it doesn’t touch my skin.”

  “Sure thing.” Skye cut the dangling thread and held it up triumphantly. “All done. You’re still intact.”

  Claribel backed away. “Very good. Guess it’s time for me to set out the daily treats for the Wee Ones.”

  Strange. But Skye was used to Claribel’s little eccentricities.

  Her boss brought out several ceramic thimbles from under the counter and squeezed a smidgeon of honey in each. Glenna and Skye watched the nightly ritual in mutual amusement, one of the few times in which they enjoyed a camaraderie.

  Out came the M&Ms, the pastel-colored ones. The shop’s freezer held bags of the special candy colors that were only available during Easter season. Claribel arranged the thimbles and candy in a circle. Her last step in the ritual was to sprinkle pink and purple fairy dust, a. k. a. dime store glitter, in the middle of the arrangement since, as Claribel liked to say, ‘the fairies favor the light and the bright.’

  “When we come in tomorrow, the entire set-up will look exactly the same as it does right now.” Glenna droned this observation nightly.

  “Oh, but the fairies only take the essence of the food, remember?” Claribel was undeterred in her fairy enthusiasms.

  Her belief seemed unshakeable.

  “Have you ever seen a real fairy?” Glenna asked.

  Skye frowned at Glenna. Unbelievable that someone so unrelentingly negative found a boyfriend. There must truly be someone for everyone.

  Claribel broke the tension. “Skye, you were right, business is slow today because of the football game. Let’s take this opportunity to do some real deep-cleaning.”

  Glenna moaned. “Tell the brownies to do the work. Aren’t they supposed to be house fairies that clean homes when the family’s asleep?”

  “You can’t command the fairies to do your chores,” Claribel explained. “Either they grant you a boon or not, their choice.”

  Skye rubbed her hands. She’d been itching for an opportunity to do this since she started working here. “I’ll take the storeroom,” she volunteered. She grabbed a broom and dustpan and headed to the back before anyone could stop her.

  Alone downstairs, Skye took out her radio and tuned in to the game. Bama was up 21-7 on Tennessee. Yes! She pumped a fist in the air. Would Tanner get a chance to play tonight? Probably not. As a freshman, he’d warmed the bench all season, to his great disappointment. Being an all-star receiver in small-town Piedmont meant nothing here in Tuscaloosa. Small-town heroes all over the state were just more wannabes with this powerhouse SEC team. Her brother, Michael, had caught a lucky break; he’d played half a game last week when a starting lineman and the second string were both injured.

  Last night’s pain returned. Resolutely, Skye pushed away the memory. She pulled her waist-length red hair into a ponytail and sized up the job. The room was dark and damp, with only a single window high up on the back wall that was grated with black, iron burglar bars, and coated with a nasty gray film from years of neglect. A one-inch thick grime had settled on nearly every object, and trash was strewn everywhere. Boxes of crystals and bottles of essential oils lay next to unalphabetized books. She scowled; clearly there was no system in place.

  She set to work sweeping the floor first, so as not to trip on some fallen object. The only thing in the world she enjoyed more than making crystal jewelry was getting things in order. Better make that her third favorite thing. Hanging out with Tanner was the best, even if he just thought of her as Michael’s little sister.

  The radio broadcast was good company and she listened for Tanner’s name, hoping he would get a chance to play. She pictured him sitting on the sideline, helmet in hand, waiting to be called in.

  He’d be decked out in his pads and uniform, sweaty from a pregame workout, and his dark hair would be slightly damp and curling on the ends.

  She slipped into a favorite daydream where he rose from the bench and scanned the bleachers for her in the crowd. They made eye contact and then Tanner would throw down his helmet and run up the aisle where she waited, realizing he was madly in love . . .

  What the heck was this crap laying on the floor? She scowled at the huge, dried-up insect carcasses in the dustpan and threw them in a wastebasket. Major icky. The room looked like it had never been swept. A perfect breeding ground for mice. She swept up another dustpan load and checked to see if there were any mouse droppings. Whew, none. That was a relief at least.

  She started tossing the mess, but looked again at the oversized carcasses wondering what kind of insects had died down here. They were fairly large, about three or four inches, and had wings.

  A faint green glow sputtered for an instant in the dustpan. Skye stared harder. The glow had vanished, but the remaining dust had iridescent sparkles that glittered in the faint light. The room was eerily silent, the radio off. Now that was weird. A cold draft chilled her back and she glanced over her shoulder, uneasy and jumpy.

  It struck her that she was totally alone in the basement and probably no one upstairs would even hear her if she screamed.

  Get real. The batteries were shot in that old radio and had finally died. These insects were probably . . . dragonflies.

  At first glance, yes, but closer examination showed a larger body, almost human-like. No, it had to be dragonflies. Odd for October, but there was no telling the last time the storeroom had been cleaned, if ever. For sure, it hadn’t been in the few weeks she’d been working here.

  And she had imagined the green glow. Really, it was probably like a floater or something in her eyes. She’d think of something else and stay busy. Claribel would be so surprised when she came downstairs and saw how much cleaner it was.

  Skye smiled, remembering her strange job interview with Claribel. The woman’s first question had been to ask her astrological sign.

  Pisces.

  Then Skye had to write out her full name, ‘Skye Violet Watters’, on a blank sheet of paper so Claribel could analyze her penmanship and do a numerological reading. She only asked one question, but it was a doozie. “Are you a witch?”

  Skye had stumbled on the answer. “I guess . . . technically . . . I would have to say yes. I mean, my mom is one.”

  “Technically?” Claribel raised an eyebrow and her lips twitched in amusement.

  “I’m not a very good one,” she’d admitted. “I was raised in The Craft, but I’ve never done a spell that went the way it was supposed to.”

  “The goddesses have a mind of their own and usually it all works out for the best,” Claribel said, seemingly unconcerned with the confessed failure.

  What a wonderful contrast to her mother’s icy disapproval.

  Skye had rushed in to redeem herself. “But I absolutely love crystals. I design jewelry based on a person’s energy and needs.”

  Skye pulled out the design sketchbook she’d brought with her, and Claribel flipped through the pages, nodding in satisfaction.

  “You have a great talent.”

  She’d noticed Claribel’s unusual thumb ring: it looked like a moon or planet orb set atop a band of titanium. Tiny obsidian circles formed craters and random chips of moonstone cast tiny flecks of light on the dark metal.

  Claribel never looked up from the sketchbook, but said, “The ring—it was a gift from my late husband.”

  “It’s very unique.” Skye wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. A bit large and gaudy for her taste. Maybe it was the kind of piece that grew on you because it was given by a loved one.

  She jumped when the sketchbook slammed shut. “You’re hired,” Claribel said. “The fairies like you.”

  “Uhm . . . great.” Fairies? Well, a job was a job. And working at The Green Fairy would
be a training ground for learning more about matching crystals to customer needs. Not to mention she needed the money.

  Skye looked around the dingy basement and sighed. The job would be perfect if it wasn’t for Glenna. But she could put up with her black mood.

  An odd humming noise caught Skye’s attention. She stilled and listened. The sounds were like the faint droning of insects, possibly bees. She walked farther toward the back, trying to find the source. The humming volume increased and drew closer, buzzing near her ears. Mosquitoes? But summer was over, even in the Deep South. She didn’t see anything, but it was darker here.

  She sniffed and the aroma seemed linked to some childhood memory . . . but at the edge of her awareness, like trying to recall a dream. The more she tried to remember, the further it receded into some gray nether-region.

  2

  Warm Vanilla Sparkles

  “Skye?” Claribel’s voice drifted downstairs. The humming noise stopped at once. “Time to lock up. No sense staying until closing tonight. After the game, everyone will be heading out to eat and drink. Spiritual matters will be the last thing on their minds.” Claribel did a quick scan of the room. “You got a lot done in a short amount of time.”

  “I’m weird, I know. But whenever business is slow, I’d like to come down here and finish the job.”

  “You don’t find it a little creepy in here? It’s dark and messy. Most people avoid this room.”

  Skye opened her mouth to mention the strange noises, then snapped it shut. Like Michael said, she was hypersensitive and too imaginative sometimes.

  “Don’t worry about cleaning the basement,” said Claribel. “I plan to hire a crew to come sort it out eventually. Probably best if you only come down here when you have to get supplies.”

  Skye dutifully followed her boss up the steps, watching the fairy wands-as-barrettes wobble precariously in Claribel’s bun. The hem of her skirt was frayed and another loose thread dangled, but Skye wasn’t about to scare her with the scissors again.

  Glenna was already pulling on her coat and scarf in the break room when Skye walked in. “Trying to earn brownie points with the boss?” she whispered fiercely, careful Claribel would not overhear.

  “You’re being ridiculous.” Skye put on her jacket and dug her car keys out of her purse.

  “Just remember, I’ve worked here a whole year almost. Claribel depends on me, not you.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. “Fine. You’re the A+, number-one employee in this vast corporate empire. Lighten up for a change.” Glenna flounced out the door with Skye right behind her.

  “Night, girls,” Claribel poked her head out of an office door, the one she used for tarot readings. Skye saw a shadow in the room; someone had stopped by after all. “Be careful going home. Traffic’s murder now that the game’s over. Oh, wait a minute.” The door closed for a moment and Claribel came out, shutting it quickly behind her. Skye caught only a glimpse of a man sitting in a chair, his legs clad in dark suit trousers.

  Claribel waved a fairy streamer in their direction. It looked like something a five-year-old girl would buy in a toy store, with long cascades of pastel-colored ribbons tied to the end of a white stick —or wand, as Claribel called it.

  “May the Wee Ones flitter around you, and keep your spirits bright,

  May they cast their protection on you this night.”

  “Thank you, Our Lady of the Fairy Dust and High Priestess of the Sparkly,” Glenna muttered.

  Skye elbowed her into silence and they walked into the dark coldness, where Glenna immediately vanished in the throng of fans leaving the stadium and swarming the streets. The mood was ecstatic with people screaming ‘Roll Tide’ and the marching band still playing in the background. The few Tennessee fans, conspicuously clad in bright orange, kept their heads down, hurrying to their cars.

  She kept up a steady walking pace. Normally she drove to work, but with the game crowd, walking was less of a hassle than maneuvering down MacFarland Boulevard.

  The slightly creepy feeling she had earlier in the storage room returned, stronger this time. Someone was following her. Skye stopped abruptly and looked around. No one was paying her the slightest attention. Probably her imagination in overdrive again. Maybe it was an after effect of being around Gloomy Glenna, a self-proclaimed psychic, and with Claribel who was convinced fairies surrounded her.

  She continued on, walking past the Tutwiler freshman dorm for women. She’d been lucky to find a small garage apartment another block away. She’d flirted with the idea of dorm life, but years of being the mystic misfit in her hometown high school had soured her on the idea. She wasn’t exactly the sorority-girl type.

  The air pressed in on Skye, a subtle invasion of personal space that made her stomach dance the cha-cha. Her night vision strained, uselessly searching for a watching set of eyes. Her pace quickened. When at last she reached her upstairs garage apartment, Skye glanced back, double-checking to be certain she was alone before unlocking the door. Again, she scanned the darkness and saw no movement, heard no unnatural noise. Nothing out there. Inside, she locked the door and flipped on light switches.

  Her jitters vanished with the domestic haven of familiarity. She loved her little space. Here, she could be anybody she wanted to be, could stay up until three o’clock a.m. if she chose to, making crystal charm jewelry or watching old movies. There were no frigid eyes of distaste or disappointment haunting her every move. She could flop at spell incantations, eat ice cream for dinner, and hang a poster-sized spreadsheet of daily, weekly and monthly goals without fear of ridicule. Sure, Michael had been over to her new place and shook his head at the spreadsheet. “You’re so OCD,” he’d laughed. But it was a teasing laugh, not mocking or biting in any way. Thank the goddess for a cool brother to offset her mother’s negativity and her dad’s neglect.

  Skye lit the salt lamp, a discounted gift to herself from The Green Fairy, which gave off a tangerine glow. She put some drops of patchouli oil in a diffuser and kicked back with a Diet Coke. The cell phone rang and she grinned when she saw Tanner’s number on the screen.

  Pretend everything’s hunky-dory. Like last night never happened. “Hey big shot, how many touchdowns did you score?”

  “Caught a pass and ran for sixty yards. What? Don’t tell me you missed my debut performance.”

  His voice sent warm vanilla sparkles down her spine – which reminded her. Her back hurt again. Skye reached in her purse and popped a couple of aspirin to ease the nagging backache. “You tellin’ me the truth? Cause I DVRed the game.”

  “A slight exaggeration,” he admitted. Skye pictured his easy smile. “Okay, since you’ve got it all on tape anyway, a total lie. Still my biggest cheerleader?”

  “Always.” She strove to match his own tone – light and airy, instead of husky with longing and hidden meanings. “Did Michael get any playing time?”

  “Yeah, a single substitution, which is more than the coach gave me. We’ve got to make sure your brother doesn’t get a big head.”

  They both laughed. Seriously, Michael was the nicest guy in the world. No danger of him turning into a prima donna. The buzz of people talking in the background grew louder. “You must be calling from the locker room.”

  “Just outside it. A group of us are heading to Dreamland Barbeque. Wanna tag along?”

  She was about to accept when a female voice squealed his name. “Depends on who all is going.”

  “Michael, me, some other bench-warming freshmen, and our adoring entourage of female fans.”

  The last time she ‘tagged along’ had not been a success. She was the one benched on the sidelines watching the action while Tanner and Michael scored with the chicks. A repeat of high school.

  “I’m staying in tonight. Get caught up on schoolwork. I’ve been working so many hours, I’ve fallen behind.”

  “Not keeping up with your spreadsheet under the homework column?” He made a tsking noise. “The shame.”

  “We can�
��t all have those special classes for jocks. Why don’t you and Michael come over for brunch tomorrow? Just call an hour or so before you leave the dorm so I’ll have it ready. Consider this my school pep spirit in supporting the country’s number one football team.”

  A high-pitched giggle erupted close his phone. She did not want to imagine how close.

  “Gotta go, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Tanner said quickly.

  Click. Skye laid the phone on the coffee table. “This sucks—” her voice trailed off and her throat burned imagining Tanner casually giving another girl the kisses and attention she craved from him. Best to keep busy tonight. She looked over her spreadsheet before grabbing a couple of textbooks and pen and paper. If she couldn’t be happy-in-love, she could at least be productive. One day, when she was married to Tanner and had a career as a sought-after jewelry designer, she would look back on these lonely nights and recall only that they shaped her into the strong, successful person she’d become.

  Yeah, right.

  Skye dumped what was left of her watered-down Diet Coke into the scraggly philodendron. The few leaves left on it were either brown or yellow, probably a slow death from soda poisoning. This dose might put it out of its misery.

  As she did most nights, she put Night Castle by the TransSiberian Orchestra in her CD player for background music, and settled in for a marathon study session.

  Kheelan had followed the girl back to her apartment again, but stayed only a few minutes this time. One block from her apartment, he removed a small glass vial from his duster pocket. Much as he hated opening his eyes to the fairies, he had to do it to watch for possible clues in solving the pixie murders. He popped open the top and stared in distaste at the slimy, green liquid before pouring it on his fingers and rubbing the mixture on his eyelids.

  “Welcome to Fairyland,” he said aloud with a sigh of resignation.

  The transformation was immediate. Silvery forms and winged creatures appeared where moments ago all was darkness. The usual red cap and green cap fairies scampered about, tending to their business. A few pixies fluttered amongst shrubbery and trees, flying back and forth. You had to look closer to discover the faces etched in the oak trees lining the sidewalk. Knots and twisted bark morphed and formed features resembling long-suffering old men.