"There were no faeries in my history book," I said, hoping no one else heard the growl in my tone. I'd been living in and studying our world for three months, and still I hadn't learned everything. Still I felt like an alien. Or, at least, like an idiot.
"Because they're neither Amadis nor Daemoni, and they haven't played a significant enough role in your life or history." Tristan peered at me. He probably heard the annoyed growl after all. "They're spirits, usually evil, but some are … not good, exactly, but more neutral. But even those enjoy wreaking havoc among humans."
"People are their playthings," Owen muttered from the backseat. "Good thing they spend most of their time in the Otherworld."
"Why?" I asked. "I mean, why do they prefer the Otherworld?"
"In the Otherworld," Tristan said, "they can be free spirits, not bound to physical bodies."
The Otherworld was a concept I found difficult to grasp. I imagined it as a different dimension–my history book called it the spiritual realm–occupied by Angels and Demons (and apparently faeries, too). From what I'd learned, those in the Otherworld could see right into our physical realm. Be close enough to touch us without our realizing they were there. To watch over us. To spy on us.
"So if they're not good and we can't trust them, why on earth are we going to see some? What if they bring the Daemoni?"
"Faeries, like most denizens of the Otherworld, tend to stay out of our earthly wars. Besides, these two lean toward our side and they might have answers, information from the Otherworld that can help us."
"If they want to share," Owen said. "Or tell us the truth."
I didn't know what, exactly, I expected. Admittedly, the images of a tiny, winged Tinkerbell-like creature and a ghostly, disembodied presence crossed my mind. But that's not what we found.
Tristan turned the car into a driveway in the mountains and pulled to a stop at a cute little cottage hidden in the woods. Ferns and other plants hung in baskets on the front porch and wine-colored tulips lined the beds in front of it. The late afternoon sky hid behind tall pine and oak trees, and little lights twinkled among the greenery–I wasn't sure if they were lights or magic, because I couldn't actually see the source.
"Who's come to say may?" chimed a sweet voice from inside the cottage. She'd really said "see me"–her southern accent was heavy, and that was the first thing that caught me by surprise. Then she appeared in the doorway, and I stared at her stupidly as she bounded down the two steps toward us. "Oh, yay! Ah'm so happy to say ya'll!"
I barely noticed the glance Tristan and Owen exchanged, mesmerized by this … completely normal human. Or so she seemed, at first glance. She stood several inches taller than me, perhaps five-eight or five-nine, and had a body that belonged in bikini ads. Her blue hair hung in ringlets past her shoulders, and her silver eyes were bright and playful. But something about her was obviously different, besides the blue hair … I just couldn't pinpoint what it was. Something Otherworldly, I supposed. She
looked
normal, yet somehow you knew she wasn't.
"Say, I knew ya'll were comin' when I saw you leavin' Nashville. I was in the Otherworld, but it only made sense that you'd be comin' to say may. And it's about time." She eyed Tristan as she said this. "Last time you came, you had all kinds of questions I couldn't answer."
"Couldn't or wouldn't?" Tristan muttered.
She shrugged off the question. "Now I do have answers for you. So come on in, ya'll. I'll get you some sweet tay."
She turned and sauntered back into the cottage, long legs moving gracefully under a mini-skirt that swooshed side to side to the rhythm of her swinging hips. She obviously had no doubts we would follow.
When I looked at Tristan for guidance, amusement colored his face as he eyed Owen. "Maybe you should stay outside with Dorian, Scarecrow, before you get into any trouble."
I turned to Owen and had to suppress a giggle. His mouth hung open as he stared at the space where the faerie had stood only a moment ago.
"I think you're drooling," I said.
"Huh?" He finally looked at us, as if just now remembering we existed. He shook his head. "I, uh, think I'll stay out here. With Dorian. At least you have Alexis."
Tristan explained before I could ask. "Faeries are irresistible to the opposite sex, but especially to singles. My love for you dilutes her power drastically. Owen doesn't have a chance, and his involvement with a faerie is the last thing we need right now."
He took my hand and led me up the steps to the cottage, leaving Dorian and Owen at the car. Even if Owen hadn't reacted to the faerie like a teenager in a strip club, I'd be leaving him outside with Dorian. I already felt vulnerable, regardless of the faerie's preference for good or evil. No way would I leave my son unattended. I glanced over my shoulder at him, still sleeping in the car, before entering the cottage.
"So I know who you are, Alexis, but you don't know may," the faerie called from what I assumed was the kitchen. She appeared in a doorway, carrying a tray with three glasses of brown liquid poured over ice. "I'm Lisa."
I stared at her.
Lisa?
Such a Norman name.
"Well, that's not mah real name, of course. That one's too long and hard to say. It's easier to go by Lisa here … in this world." Maybe she didn't intend it, but I thought I saw her nose crinkle when she referred to our world. She placed the wooden tray of drinks on a coffee table and motioned for us to sit on the sofa. She plopped into a chair. "Where's Owen? He's not stayin' outside, is he?"
She looked disappointed when Tristan nodded, but then she laughed, a bright, joyful sound. "Ah, well. We have business to take care of anyway. First, I heard you were askin' about somethin'."
"Yes, our daugh–"
"No, no, not that," Lisa said, waving her hand. "Not yet. I mean this."
Another woman glided into the room. She struck quite a resemblance to Lisa, but with purple hair instead of blue. A tight white blouse, shorts barely longer than a bikini bottom and knee-high boots clad her killer body. She held a small animal in her hand.
"It wasn't easy, these are so rare, but Jessica was able to find this one," Lisa said.
"Who? What?" I asked, thoroughly confused.
"This is my sista, Jessica. And she found ya'll this."
The purple-haired Jessica strode over to me and deposited the little animal on my lap.
Whoa!
Was this some kind of faerie creature? Though it had a canine body shape and a wolf's face, light-gray lines marked its white fur, similar to a tiger's stripes. And closed tightly against its sides were feathery, shiny-white wings.
Wings!
It was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen with the silkiest, softest fur I'd ever felt. I peered sideways at Tristan.
"I promised Dorian," he said.
I lifted an eyebrow. "Um … this isn't a dog."
"No. It's a Lykora."
My mouth dropped open. "You mean …?"
"What I nicknamed you, exactly."
Ma lykita
, he had told me once, meant "my little Lykora," a supposedly mythical creature that appeared to be tiny and non-threatening, but when it felt its loved ones were in danger, it would grow to the size it needed to be to protect them. I stared at the little animal in my lap, and it stared back with big, puppy-like eyes. Its tail wagged, and its wings fluttered slightly. The smell of baby powder engulfed me. It even smelled good. And then a blue tongue darted out of its mouth and licked my hand.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap
. I was already in love. But there was no way we could keep it. Dorian couldn't
see
it.
"Tristan, this is
not
a dog. Dorian can't have this."
"Sure he can." He scooped the little creature out of my lap, and with one hand, held it up to his face. "Hide," he told it.
The Lykora didn't run away and disappear. In fact, it didn't seem to obey at all. But then I noticed … its wings and stripes had disappeared, and its face had softened. It now looked like a little white puppy. I smiled as it licked Tristan's nose.
"She's been cared for by a wizard in Juneau," Jessica said in the same Southern drawl as her sister's. "She's about sixty years old, so still a pup, but well trained. You tell her what you want, and she'll do it. It'll take a few days for her to relearn her loyalty, though. She's yours."
Tristan's eyes narrowed. "In exchange for what?"
"Oh, come now, sweetie, why would you say that? What could we possibly want from ya'll?" Jessica asked.
"You faeries never do anything for nothing."
The faerie giggled. "Ah. I guess that's true. But there's nothin' I need from ya'll … not right now anyway."
She sauntered out of the room the way she'd come.
"So is this what we get instead of information?" Tristan asked Lisa. "This is your so-called answer? Something I didn't even ask of you specifically?"
Lisa shook her head. "No, no. I have other answers for you, too."
"So you'll tell us about our daughter?" Tristan asked, placing the Lykora back in my lap. "Are you willing to tell us who has her, where she is …?"
A strange look crossed Lisa's face, her expression unreadable, almost confused and mischievous at once. It was time to tap into her thoughts. Her mind signature felt completely different than anything I'd come across yet–a bit of human, but filmy, not quite there–and when I focused on her thoughts … they weren't there at all. I concentrated on the signature harder, followed it to her mind but nothing. Nada. Zilch. I couldn't hear her thoughts.
Crap. Not good
.
"I feel you in ma head, Alexis," she said. "You can't hear me, though. My thoughts are not of this world."
It took a conscious effort to keep my mouth from hanging open. Tristan glanced at me, and I shook my head. His lips pressed into a hard line. He'd hoped I'd hear what she might refuse to say aloud.
"Anyway, I don't know what you mean about your daughter," Lisa finally said, dismissing that awkward moment.
"I thought you said you had answers for us," Tristan reminded her.
"I do … but my answers aren't to that question. I don't know about your daughter yet. I'm not a prophet."
"You can't see her from the Otherworld?"
Lisa's eyes twinkled. "I can't see what doesn't exist yet."
Tristan and I stared at her for several beats. I hated not being able to tell if she was lying. Not being able to listen to her thoughts.
Tristan stood up and held out his hand. "Come on, Alexis. This was pointless."
"You don't want your answers?" Lisa asked as I cupped the Lykora in my hand, stood and followed Tristan as he headed for the door. I gladly followed, ready to be moving again. I didn't feel safe here. For all I knew, she could have been stalling us, waiting for Daemoni to arrive.
"You don't have the ones we want," Tristan said without turning.
"But I do. If ya'll are searchin' for a daughter, you're lookin' for the wrong thang." She paused. "Where's your stone, Tristan?"
We both stopped abruptly, turned and stared at her again.
"The stone you were supposed to give to Alexis. Where is it?"
My pendant?
Is that what she meant? The ruby in the pendant was the only stone he'd ever given me, besides the obvious one on my finger.
"You don't have it. And that's what ya'll
should
be lookin' for. It'll give you what you seek, what you
need
."
"How do you …?" Tristan asked with that familiar steely undertone in his voice.
"Oh, I know. Do you remember what you were told?"
I looked at him when he didn't answer. His eyes were dark, the gold dim.
"Have you spoken with Bree yet?" Lisa asked.
"Who?"
"Ah, I guess not."
Something flickered across Tristan's face.
"Who's Bree?" I demanded.
She didn't answer for a long moment, but something showed in her face, too.
Sadness?
When she smiled, it didn't reach her eyes. "Bree is who you need to speak to, Tristan. She has your answers. Find the stone and find Bree. That's what I have to tell you."