Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  Impossible.

  How long had her mother carried her? No one had mentioned a remarkably short pregnancy, but then again she’d never met anyone, except her father, who knew her mother. Her dad claimed it was because they’d lost touch with nearly all their friends when they’d moved to Asheville, but FayeLynn was beginning to suspect it was something more than just a lost address, or a misplaced phone number.

  By the time her mind was close to quiet, the sun had fallen behind the mountains, casting deep purple and blue shadows in the velvety folds of the Blue Ridge. She folded the blanket, tossed it in the trunk and headed back toward town.

  When she got home, her father had already turned in for the night, no doubt as emotionally exhausted as she was. Even though she was tired, sleep was elusive, and she spent most of the night staring at the glow in the dark stars she’d stuck to her ceiling in sixth grade.

  While her father had told her most of the story, she was a long way from understanding. Maybe Alvin could help fill in some of the holes. It made no sense to trust a man who’d wandered in to the café, a stranger off the streets who claimed to be one of The Folk, but his reading had been spot-on and she needed someone to trust.

  ***

  No one discovered him. Four blocks from the café, in the middle of the city, there was a small park. While it was mostly concrete and benches, there were a few mature Mountain Ash trees left on the fringes. They weren’t Rowan trees, but The Folk had made other alliances with other members of the same tree family since colonizing the United States. With the tiny bit of energy he had left after reading FayeLynn’s future, he cast a glamour over himself, making him invisible. At least in theory. The problem with a town like Asheville was that lots of people not only believed in The Folk, but some even had the power to see them, even behind a cleverly constructed glamour.

  Thankfully, he’d been able to sleep most of the afternoon, waking only to search his backpack for a pack of crackers he never found, and then, after considering hitting the pavement to make a few dollars, he rolled back over and slept through the night. Now, judging by the sun, it was way past seven o’clock. Realizing he’d overslept, he bolted upright and ran his fingers through his hair.

  Time to see FayeLynn.

  He packed up his things and headed toward the café.

  Today, nearly every table was filled. Tourists with maps spread out across the round tables, dressed in everything from chino shorts and Polos to wildly patterned sari skirts and tie-dyed T-shirts. He chose a seat just to the right of the counter and tossed his backpack onto the extra chair. He still had the two dollars from yesterday and the coffee smelled divine.

  Just as he was heading to get in line, FayeLynn slid a steaming mug onto his table. “I can take my break in half an hour. Stay put.” She gave him no time to answer as she hustled to the next table of customers.

  He sipped the brew and watched her. He couldn’t believe he’d doubted his first impression of her. The way she moved, light and graceful with her feet seeming to barely touch the floor, told him that she was definitely one of The Folk. The tank top she wore revealed a small ridge between her shoulder blades providing even more confirmation.

  In The Realm, wings would emerge from that ridge when and if it was time. Contrary to most fairy tales, not every member of The Folk had wings. As humans liked to say, they were only for special occasions. Looking at FayeLynn, there was no doubt her mother was one of The Folk.

  “I’ve got half an hour,” she said, hanging her apron on a hook behind the counter. “Let’s walk.”

  He followed her outside onto the sidewalk. The air was cool and humid and he suppressed a shiver. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace without so many ears.”

  On the corner opposite First Citizens Bank, there was an empty bench. They sat side by side, and he waited for her to speak first. It was important that she ask for his help first. In the world of The Folk, a favor asked meant a debt owed. He wanted her to owe him, not the other way around.

  “How do you know I’m carrying one of The Folk?” Her eyes were much clearer today, and they shifted between the color of a Tiger Eye stone and a piece of Baltic Amber. “How do you know this baby isn’t human?”

  “I see your father has briefed you on the proper term for our people.” He avoided the question because he wasn’t sure how he was going to tell her about The Dark Prince. He’d been part of this world long enough to know that most humans didn’t really believe there was another unseen world that ran parallel to theirs. The ones who did believe were usually labeled as kooks or dreamers. Even in a place as tolerant as Asheville, people had real trouble embracing a new reality. He wanted to ease FayeLynn into it, little by little, until she was confident. On the other hand, time was of the essence.

  “How do you know?” she repeated.

  “I just do.” A city bus belched to a stop just down the block. “I know things that humans don’t.”

  “Wait,” she said. “Let me process this a little at a time.”

  He gave her the silence she needed and then he said, “You and I are a lot alike.”

  Her eyes were wide. “But most psychics are human.”

  “Some of them are.”

  She shook her head and he felt the walls she was throwing up to prevent him from learning anything else about her. These walls were flimsy though, more like wrapping paper than brick, and he felt her disbelief beginning to fade. The shift was subtle but it was something.

  “What are you?”

  “The same as you. I’m one of The Folk.”

  “Nope. I’m just a girl whose mother died. My dad is a professor who’s more interested in his Celtic stories than his real, actual life. I’m a pregnant twenty-one-year-old with a dead-end job and no idea what I’m going to do with my baby or my life.” She bit her bottom lift. “I’m just scared and I need some help sorting everything out. Can you help me?”

  And just like that, she’d asked him for a favor. “I can.”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask because I barely even know you, but for some reason, I feel drawn to you.”

  She wanted to trust him. He could feel her reaching out for him and he intended to keep his word. He’d help her and then he’d ask for her to return the favor.

  “Why are you helping me?” Her voice was small and again, she reminded him of a small songbird.

  “Because I might need help from you sometime.” She had no idea how big the favor was going to be when he asked it of her.

  Her eyes met his and an unfamiliar tug pulled at his heart. He’d always lived by the code of The Folk. A favor given equals a favor owed. It was the way of his world, but FayeLynn needed someone. She needed him, and even though he was willing to do anything to get back to his comfortable life among The Folk, he was being called to help her whether she returned the favor or not.

  And that was dangerous territory. There was only one reason one of The Folk lost track of his balance sheet and that was a possibility he didn’t want to consider.

  CHAPTER 4

  FayeLynn went back to the café to finish her shift. Even though she was still worried, making plans to meet with Alvin later in the afternoon had soothed her mind. Her connection to him made no sense. She knew he was probably homeless, just another kid kicked out by his parents for being different. This town was full of kids just like him, but his reading had been accurate, dead-on the money, and for that reason, she decided to trust him.

  Maybe he was different.

  After work, she walked down Haywood Street, past Malaprop’s Books and The Haywood Park Hotel, until she reached Pack Library, a modern square of concrete and glass that was at odds with the buildings beside it. Instead of the charm of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, the library was a fine example of why the 1970s were such an aesthetic disaster. She found Alvin in the non-fiction stacks sitting at a table piled high with books.

  “Find anything?” she asked, sliding into the chair across from
him.

  “A lot of this stuff is utter bullshit.” His bright blue eyes reminded her of pictures her father had shown her of Iceland. Cold and emotionless but compelling at the same time. It was hard to look away. “The Folk aren’t a bunch of silly fairies who do nothing but take tea from cups in the shape of rosebuds.”

  “Who are The Folk?”

  His eyes widened. “That’s a complicated question.”

  “Start from the beginning. I’ll try to keep up.”

  He rewarded her with a genuine smile that melted some of the frost from his eyes. “I bought you a notebook.” From his backpack, he passed a spiral one subject with a purple cover.

  “How did you know it was my favorite color?” She flipped it open to the first page and pulled a pen from behind her ear. The notebook, no doubt from the stationary section of the Bottom Dollar, was a cheap one but it meant so much to her because Alvin seemed to have so little and he’d used his limited resources to buy a gift for her.

  “Lucky guess,” he answered with a wink. “Tell me what your dad said.”

  “He said that my mother was one of The Folk and that in order to marry her, he had to promise that he’d hand the first male child born to his line over to them.”

  Alvin raised his eyebrows making his eyes look even brighter. “He made a vow to The Folk? Do you know how serious that is?”

  She shook her head. “My dad has always had his head in a book. He’s a professor of Celtic Mythology, and I’ve never really taken anything he says about fairies or gnomes or brownies very seriously. Sometimes I think he believes fairy tales are more tangible than real life.”

  “Sometimes they are,” Alvin said quietly.

  “My mother died when I was a baby so I’m an only child. Pops says that if this child is a boy, The Folk will know and they’ll come to claim him.” The whole time she’d been talking to Alvin, she hoped that he would throw up his hands, laugh and tell her the whole thing was nothing more than a big joke, but he didn’t. Everything about his expression told her that he, just like her father, believed in The Folk, and more importantly, their powers.

  “It’s a grave situation, that’s for certain.”

  “It’s not like they can just pop above ground, kidnap my baby and run back to Fairyland. Right?”

  “We’d never be that obviofus. We don’t live underground, and we prefer ‘The Realm’.”

  It was all too much. “I’m a little skeptical about the whole fairy angle.”

  Alvin winced. “Don’t use that word, not unless you want to make everything worse.”

  “I’ve always known I was a little different, and let’s face it, my childhood wasn’t exactly conventional, but I’m really having a hard time believing that The Folk even exist much less interfere in the lives of humans.”

  “Stand up,” Alvin said, rising from his chair and walking around the table. He stood behind her and placed the tip of his index finger on the ridge between her shoulder blades. “This isn’t human.” A shiver ran up her spine and goosebumps popped out on her skin. “This marks you as one of The Folk.”

  “It’s just some cartilage. Just a weird genetic fluke.”

  He stepped around her side and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve never really believed that, have you?”

  Even though he was living on the street, he smelled fresh, like laundry just out of the dryer. More than anything else, his scent convinced her. There was no way, in the world she’d built, that a homeless dude with nothing more than the clothes on his back, a small backpack and a dollar in his pocket could smell like Downy without a lot of notice.

  “I’ve always wondered about it,” FayeLynn admitted. “My dad took me to the doctor once and she had never seen anything like it. It was the only time I ever remember going to the doctor.”

  “See? He’s known all along and on top of that, you’ve been to The Realm already.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Unless you are returned to The Realm and blessed by the ruling Prince, the Wing Ridge won’t develop. When babies are born, the bumps are about the size of a pea. They lengthen as the child grows.”

  “So my parents took me back to Fairyland after I was born?”

  “They must have. And it’s The Realm,” he reminded her.

  For the first time, anger began to build in the pit of her stomach. She’d been blindsided. Not only had she been living a lie, her father hadn’t told her the whole truth when she’d ask him about it.

  Why didn’t dad tell me? Why didn’t he warn me?

  “Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you,” Alvin said. “It’s not exactly an easy conversation.”

  “How did you read my mind like that?”

  “It’s not that hard,” he replied. “I’m psychic, remember?”

  “So where do we go from here?”

  “We should start from the beginning.” Alvin walked around the table and settled into his chair. “You need to understand The Folk before you can understand why they’re so interested in your son.”

  An hour later, FayeLynn had filled at least five pages of the notebook, front and back, with notes about The Folk. Instead of the Tinkerbell imagery and storyline she’d been fed by Disney and other entertainment companies, this history read much differently.

  Trapped between the old and the new, The Folk were the remnants of the Old Gods worshipped by the Pagans of Scotland, Ireland and Wales. Relegated to the fringes by the religion brought by the Romans, they were half-human, half-deity, and they lived in a parallel world called The Realm. After the Christians took over the British Isles, they spent the intervening centuries living alongside the humans who once worshipped them. The Folk were gifted with a myriad of powers including the ability to cast glamours, read the emotions of humans and change their own appearances as needed. Even though all of The Folk had these abilities, just like with any other magic, there was always a cost. When they were forced to live among humans, usually for breaking one of the laws of The Folk, many of them worked as artists or psychics.

  The ridge that ran along her back matched the one on Alvin’s. The Folk, under very specific circumstances which were still murky, could fly. The cartilage formed a base from which the gossamer wings so familiar to every child who ever watched Tinkerbell or Peter Pan.

  “Will I be able to fly?”

  The idea was extremely appealing. As a child, she’d wanted to be a pilot, but her eyes were terrible. By the time she got her third pair of glasses, she’d given up the dream. If she had to be a fairy, it would be nice to have a guarantee on the wings.

  Alvin shrugged. “There’s no way to know.”

  “Have you ever—”

  “No,” he answered, interrupting her. “And I doubt I ever will, especially after I decided to…well, never mind. It’s not important.”

  “So why are you here?” FayeLynn asked Alvin.

  “It’s a long story, and I’m not sure we have the time.”

  “What were your parents like?”

  Alvin hesitated, as if unsure how to answer the questions. “My father is the ruling prince.”

  “So you’re a prince?”

  “I was once but that seems like another lifetime. Let’s get back to what we’re going to do about you and the baby.”

  His answer frustrated her, but she was afraid if she pressed, Alvin would shut down completely. She was used to that response from Pops.

  “What do you remember about the father of your baby?” he asked.

  It was embarrassing to recount the details of a one-night stand to anyone much less a guy she was becoming more and more attracted to by the second. On the other hand, the more Alvin explained The Folk to her, the more her life began to make sense. “He was tall, slender. His hair was a bottomless black and his eyes were light blue.”

  “His name?”

  She felt her face flush and cursed her fair skin for the thousandth time. “Something dark and mysterious. That’s all I can remember.”


  Nausea washed over her in a wave and she dropped her pen and ran for the ladies’ room. When she returned to the table, her face still cool from the water she’d splashed on it, Alvin had stacked all the books onto a return cart and was waiting for her.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded, unwilling to trust her voice. She’d never felt so sick in her entire life. Every scent in the library seemed to be assaulting her at once. The carpet cleaner, the pages of books, and even the smell of the soap she’d used to wash her hands was incredibly strong.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Alvin said, taking her hand. “You need fresh air.”

  His hands felt cool against her skin, and she was glad for the contact. It grounded her. She followed him out of the library and onto the street. The smells on Haywood Avenue did nothing to improve the nausea. Instead, the mélange of aromas drifting from numerous coffee shops, restaurants and breweries threatened to make her sick all over again.

  Alvin placed his hand on her forehead. “Close your eyes and relax. This might help.”

  She followed his instructions and took a deep breath. His touch was as soft as a butterfly wing. The nausea began to pass. “That’s amazing,” she said, opening her eyes. “How did you do that?”

  “That’s in Lesson Forty-Five, and it costs extra.” The devilish grin on his face reminded her

  They walked past The Butterfly Café toward her car. Alvin followed closely behind her, his hand steadying the small of her back.

  “Same place tomorrow?” FayeLynn asked. “I have the day off so let’s meet at my house. My dad has lots of resources we can use.” As soon as she said it, she realized that Alvin probably had no way to get to the suburbs. “I can pick you up around ten.”

  He smiled in relief. “I’ll meet you on the corner of Patton and College.”

  “See you there.”

  ***

  Alvin did his best thinking while he was walking so he took his time ambling back toward the city park that had become his home base. He’d enjoyed spending the afternoon with FayeLynn and his feelings for her were becoming complicated.