Catnip & Curses (The Faerie Files Book 2)

by Emigh Cannaday

  “I’m not moving,” Lafayette said before I could ask.

  It had been a long day. Sleep came fast, thick and dark, but it was far from restful. It was the kind of sleep that sends you on a dozen missions through a dozen confusing dreams where everything is shown to you in snippets. And as you try and grasp hold of one image, it's soon replaced with another.

  I dreamed of my dad back home, sitting in front of the tv, drinking beer. I dreamed of Bridget, thinking about her for the first time in months. She was tanning on her sugar-daddy’s yacht while he ate lobster. But as I got closer, I saw that her tan was melting off her face like thick streams of makeup.

  Then I dreamed of Sylvia. Even though I’d only seen pictures on Elena’s phone of her new home, I somehow knew my way around the place. She walked with me through the acres of property, giving me a tour while wearing a cat onesie. All around her were hundreds of small people running around like pets.

  "Hey, Sylvia," I said, looking around the ground. "What happened to the cats? Why are they all little humans now?"

  "Meow meow meow meow meow," she replied. And I understood her. I didn't know exactly what she was saying, but I understood. I surveyed the lay of the land, noticing a tall lizard who was mowing the lawn . . . in a tuxedo. He looked like the gecko from the car insurance commercials.

  “Hi Logan!” he called out to me, giving me a little salute.

  I think he was supposed to be Sylvia’s boyfriend, although I didn’t ask him about it. Instead, I kept walking, my feet not making a sound on the freshly mown grass. I noticed a tree in the distance with a large hole at the bottom. It was so big that a small child could’ve easily fallen inside it. The tree itself was so tall that when I looked up, I saw the leaves on top forced their way up through the clouds until they disappeared.

  "That tree takes you places," said the lizard with a nod. He was leaning against his lawn mower sipping a glass of lemonade.

  "It takes you places?" I asked.

  "Yep, it sure does. That little door right there. Take a step through it and it'll take you right back to your past."

  "Huh. That’s interesting."

  "Wanna take a dive in?"

  "No, I don't think I will. I have this poltergeist to investigate and—”

  "I really think you should go in," he said. His mouth was still stretched wide, although the easygoing smile had morphed until it looked more like teeth being bared.

  His claw-tipped fingers curled themselves into a fist. As I looked into the glass of lemonade, I saw the liquid had now turned as green as his scaly face.

  "That's not lemonade!" I shrieked and backed away from him.

  He lunged towards me, one hand in a tight fist while the other drew back to hurl the toxic contents of the glass at me. I just knew that whatever was inside the glass would kill me. I could smell its pungent fumes as it burned my eyes.

  "Get away from me!" My throat was swelling shut as my heart pounded in my chest. I felt close to throwing up, so I escaped into the only place I could think of—that hole in the tree.

  It was a tight fit, but with a desperate shove I forced my shoulders through the dirt and roots and shimmied into the depths of the tree trunk.

  Safe at last, I thought.

  I should’ve known better.

  I wasn't safe at all.

  I expected my feet to land on solid ground, to feel the safety of being inside the confines of the tree trunk, but there was nothing around me. No walls, no floor, no scent of wood. Just darkness.

  A panicked scream escaped my lungs as I realized I was falling, my arms and legs flailing wildly as I tried to grip hold of something. But there was nothing around me except more darkness. Everywhere I looked, the blackness only seemed to get blacker.

  I screamed as the wind whooshed up through my hair. I was moving like a missile through the darkness to an unknown destination. Looking down, I focussed on the darkness that was blacker than any black I’d seen before. Then gradually, through that blackness came a pinpoint of light—nothing more than the width of a needle at first.

  The tiny pinpoint entered my heart along with a small ray of hope. The tiny speck of light began to rip and tear itself open until it grew wider and wider, until I could step through it.

  I heard a crashing noise and felt something hard beneath my feet. The light around me began to fade until I could take in my surroundings. The abyss of black and white was gone, along with the sensation of falling. Now I appeared to be in some sort of building. There were walls made of ancient stone and plants grew out of the cracks and in containers on every surface available. Everything was covered in thick ferns and moss, vines and flowers, some on their own, and others in pots and glasses that were displayed on a multitude of tables and chests.

  Wherever I was, it was lush, vibrant, and serene. I longed to see more of it. Gradually, I began to float from room to room. I took in the textures and colors of each space I explored. Gray stone walls had been adorned with magnificent art like nothing I'd ever seen before. Sumptuous greens and mesmerizing blues popped out from the myriad of colors, seeming to swirl and move the longer I stared. Stones and gems twinkled like stars. A few soft notes of music trickled towards my ears, seeping into my very soul, enveloping it in a warm, tingling feeling.

  Floating through each room to the next, my feet brushed against the floors as if they were nothing but clouds. The breeze carrying me drifted away and my senses regrouped. My body grew heavy as gravity took hold. When I looked beneath my feet I saw a tiny, ornate crib. Adorned with emeralds, the wooden headboard was engraved with beautiful carvings in a language I'd never seen before.

  I dropped down to my knees to give it a closer look, then somehow fell against the cushioned interior of the bed, landing deep inside of it.

  How can I fit in here? I wondered. Memories of Alice in Wonderland played through my head.

  I reached out to grab the bars of the crib and climb out of it when I realized those weren’t my arms. Instead of seeing strong, masculine hands and my veins wandering along my muscular forearms, I was looking at the small, chubby hands of a baby.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Looking down at my feet, I saw fat little toes and even fatter little baby legs. As though I was being caressed by the bed, I sank deep down into it, the bedsheets covering me and pulling me into a soft, warm, velvety hug.

  This is the best, I thought as I snuggled into the blankets and looked up out of the crib. I'm a baby again and all I have to worry about is sleeping in this soft warm bed. I closed my eyes and instantly felt soothed and calm. Hmmm . . . . This is the life.

  I was on the cusp of drifting off when I heard a door creak. I tried to lift my little head to see over the top of the crib.

  "Who's there?" I asked, but my voice came out in a baby's gurgle. I tried again. "Ba ba gla da Mama . . . "

  "Aw, hello my little darling," replied a soothing female voice. "Why are you still awake?"

  The first thing I saw was a green, velvet sleeve as it reached down into the crib. Attached to it was a silky smooth hand covered in golden rings that glimmered against the faint glow of the nearby candlelight.

  I thrust out my tiny hands and latched onto the sleeve and the voice returned with a soft laugh.

  "Aw, you're so feisty tonight," said the voice.

  There was something about it that made me so calm, so happy, so safe. It wasn't just a voice. It was more like music . . . the most beautiful music I’d ever heard.

  "Would you like to give your Mama a snuggle?" asked the voice.

  I opened my mouth in respond and a gurgle escape.

  “Shall I take that as a yes?"

  The green sleeves were once again entering the crib as warm hands wrapped themselves around me and scooped me up. For a second, I was held suspended over the crib, and that's when I saw her face. It was so beautiful it sucked the breath out of me. She was so radiant and filled with kindness that it immediately made me feel like everything was and always would
be okay. It was a face that made me feel like I was at the very center of the universe.

  I now came to realize I was in the hands of a young woman with eyes a deep shape of glittering sapphire blue. Her lashes were long, her skin almost translucent. Her nose was small and upturned above a pair of pink rosebud lips. And around that face was the most magnificent blonde hair that tumbled down around her shoulders like a golden waterfall.

  "Give Mama a kiss," she said and pressed her soft lips to my cheek.

  The second her lips touched my skin, I felt an explosion of unconditional love.

  "Oh, Niklas, you’re just the sweetest," she cooed, peppering my cheeks with more kisses. "But why are you looking at Mama in such a peculiar way?"

  She placed me back down in the crib and called over her shoulder into the hall.

  "Sweetheart? Are you out there?"

  "Yes, yes I'm coming," came a booming male voice that was so deep it rumbled through the air. “What is it?” asked the man who’d just entered the room. Although he wore elegant robes, he looked like a force to be reckoned with . . . especially on a battlefield.

  "It's Niklas," said the woman. "Doesn't he have a peculiar expression on his face?"

  She sounded genuinely alarmed. I couldn't for the life of me think of what was so bad about my face that would make her worry so much.

  "A peculiar expression?” laughed the man. "Well, let me have a look."

  A strangely familiar face appeared in front of me, filling my field of vision with his prominent cheekbones and his strong, distinct jawline. I felt the need to reach up and touch the distinctive scar on his angular chin. He chuckled as he moved my little hand away and gave it a playful shake.

  "My goodness, son. You do look peculiar. Why, it looks as though you have the eyes of a grown man."

  "That's because I am a grown man!" I tried to yell back. All that came out my dribbling mouth was more babbling baby speak.

  "It's quite extraordinary," said the man, his blue eyes twinkling. "But I suppose he is my son. He will be wise beyond his years. I certainly was."

  "But did you have eyes that looked like that?" asked Mama.

  "Hmmm . . . " The man was busy squinting as he looked at me suspiciously. “Perhaps not. But don't fret, my darling Sanne. There is nothing wrong with ample maturity at a young age. If anything, he’ll be better behaved than I was as a child. Now come, we have guests waiting for us downstairs and young Niklas must get his sleep."

  "But . . . I can't bear to leave him,” said Mama, her voice breaking. "Not for a single second."

  "He will be fine," replied the man I assumed to be my dad. "There will be a nursemaid here shortly. Now please, you mustn’t neglect your guests. There is much wine and music and merriment to be had. Your presence will only make the occasion more splendid."

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her from the room as he kissed the top of her head.

  "Sweet dreams, Little Niklas," she said lovingly as she departed. "My darling son . . . "

  As they walked out the room, I was left staring out the door wishing they would return. I felt such love from them, such devotion. My entire world revolved around them. As far as Mama, I’d never seen anyone so beautiful. I longed to see her again.

  I lay alone in my crib staring up at the ceiling, grabbing at my toes. A single candle burned on a stand across the room, its flame dancing across the ceiling. I became hypnotized by the filmstrip of shadows and watched them until I began to grow sleepy.

  I hope my parents return soon, I thought as I looked out from my crib. They look like they love me so much. They look like they love each other even more. How lucky I am to be in this place with these parents.

  I felt warm and comforted as I thought of them, and closed my eyes knowing that I’d sleep soundly forever without a care in the world.

  Just as I began to lose myself in the feeling, there was a change in the room. All the warmth was sucked out through the doorway and replaced with a frosty chill. It was so cold and so dark that I was too scared to look out of my crib. A gut feeling told me that when I caught a glimpse of whatever was there, I’d be changed forever.

  Glancing back up at the ceiling, I now saw the candle's flame was dancing frantically in the frigid draft. I began to shiver and tried to pull the bed covers up around my body, but I was too tiny and uncoordinated to grab them.

  Damn these stupid baby arms, I moaned internally as I tried again and again to grab them.

  Footsteps sounded from the doorway, but they weren’t like the ones that had just left. The steps I heard now were lighter, slower, and more deliberate. Someone was tiptoeing into the room. My heart beat faster as a deep terror rose inside me. I didn't know who was there, but I could feel the malice in their soul. Whoever it was, they were evil.

  "Why, hello, little Niklas . . . " came a sinister, inhuman, gravelly whisper. The footsteps drew closer and I closed my eyes shut. "Asleep now, are we?"

  A cold chill drifted down over my face as the creature spoke. I could hear his fingernails tapping against the side of the crib, and I recoiled at the foul odor of his rotting breath.

  "Don't be shy," he said. "I know you're awake. Like your great Papa said, you are wise for your age.”

  He laughed softly to himself and tapped his fingernails down the bed frame. With my eyes squeezed shut, I could only hear them scratching against the wood.

  "Won't you open your eyes, little Niklas? We have such a long journey to take together."

  I clenched my eyes closed even tighter, terrified of what I would see if I opened them.

  "Come along now," he urged.

  Beside my head, I could hear those nails scratching along the pillow, getting closer to my face. I held my breath in fear and begged for this monster to leave.

  As the cold of his hand reached my face, I felt a finger trace a line down the side of my cheek. It may as well have been an ice cube melting down my face. Between the sudden iciness and sickening smell of the creature, I flinched, my eyes involuntarily opening.

  A large, spindly hand spread across my face, each finger lit up in dazzling blue flames.

  It was that fucking blue hand from my last nightmare!

  A scream tore out of me at such a volume that I was convinced it would make my head explode.

  "Logan?"

  I screamed louder and thrashed from side to side, desperate to break out of the crib.

  "Logan!"

  I felt my whole body shake with such ferocity that I was afraid I was having a seizure. Something small and sharp tore into my thigh, sending the burning blue hand away as the pain registered in my head. I fell through the black void of darkness and landed on the ground with a hard thump.

  "Logan! Wake the hell up!"

  I woke up on the floor, gasping and clutching at my chest. Sitting up, I looked around the room for the fiery blue hand, the crib, the candle, the ancient stone walls covered in ferns and moss, but all I saw was Lafayette sitting next to me with a worried look in his large green eyes. I’d left the bathroom light on, and I could see his little black ears were tilted forward in curiosity or concern, while his eyes were trained intently on my face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked from up where he sat on the edge of the bed.

  "No . . . ” I panted. “I just had the most vivid dream of my entire life!”

  “Cool story, bro,” Lafayette said. “I’m going back to sleep.” He stood up and turned around, then stretched with his tail high in the air, flashing me his pale pink asshole. Against his jet-black fur, it glared at me like the Eye of Sauron. Normally I hated that move, but tonight was different.

  I glanced around the hotel room to be absolutely sure I was exactly where I thought I was. Lafayette’s little matching food and water dishes were right where I’d left them. My gun was still holstered on the nightstand.

  “Why is my leg bleeding?” I asked, noticing a red crescent of puncture wounds.

  “I didn’t know how else to wake you up
,” came the voice from what I assumed to be the middle of the bed. “Also, you were twitching like a bird. I couldn’t help myself.”

  8

  Elena

  “Welcome to the Mariposa Historical Museum,” said a tattooed and pierced purple-haired young woman. She walked around the desk and smiled, outstretching her hand for us to shake. "My name’s Jillian. I'll be showing you around today. I have to say, I'm excited to have federal agents stop in. We don't get a lot of excitement here."

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand after she greeted the others. I couldn't help but smile back. Her enthusiasm in meeting us felt genuine and as I looked at the ink on her forearm, I noticed one of them was of a highly erotic belly dancer. It was tasteful, but pretty damn edgy for a history museum in a place where the obscenely wealthy went to retire.

  Catching me staring, she held her arm up for me to take a closer inspection. I got the impression she was used to people eyeballing it. Luckily, she seemed happy to talk about the art on her body in the same way she was happy to discuss the artifacts in the museum.

  "Everyone always notices that one first," she laughed, pointing to the belly dancer with a long, electric purple nail. "It's Mata Hari. She was a German spy back in World War I.”

  "Oh, wow. That's an interesting subject for a tattoo."

  “Well, I’m a history nerd, so all of my tattoos have a historical theme behind them.”

  “Now I see the allure of working in a museum," Logan said while trying to stifle a yawn. He was looking across the room at a display of broken pottery, his eyes clouding over with either boredom or a lack of sleep.

  He’d been tight-lipped all morning, and hadn’t wanted to meet for breakfast before heading over to the museum. All he wanted was the keys to our Tahoe and his Americano. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring his cat. I had it on good authority that Lafayette was a bed hog.

  "Yeah, working in a museum is basically a dream come true for me,” replied Jillian. "I used to visit here all the time when I was growing up. Once I got my masters in historical research, I moved right back home and applied for a full-time position. Been working here five years now, although it doesn’t feel like it. They say when you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.”