Faeries Gone Wild

by MaryJanice Davidson

  William tried to do all three, but the images kept flying at him, untamed and breathtaking. There was a girl, so achingly beautiful it actually made his heart hurt. He put a hand to his chest.

  “How the hell much did you drink?” Dean asked loudly, and, glancing toward the door, plopped into a nearby wheeled chair.

  They’d made love in the water like sea otters, her hair dancing around them, binding them.

  Dean pulled his gaze back to Will and scooted his chair up close. “It was the girl, wasn’t it?” Dean whispered.

  “Her eyes are purple.”

  “Well, it’s hard to tell when you’re higher than Christ on—”

  “Her hair was like fingers,” Will murmured.

  Dean glanced toward the door again. “What’s that?”

  “Her hair . . .” He reached out, her image so real in his mind, he could almost touch her. “It could hold things.”

  “Things like—”

  “My hand, my arm.” He remembered the feel of it against his skin, as soft and heaven-bright as rain. He touched his own skin, feeling the rasp of his fingers against his wrist.

  “Listen, buddy, let’s get you home before old man Meier—”

  “I don’t think she’s human,” William said, and glanced up abruptly.

  Dean jerked back, laughed nervously. “Listen, you’re starting to sound just a little crazy,” he said.

  But Will grabbed his hand. “She appeared in my bathroom. Just appeared.”

  “She probably just slipped in.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the guys at Imperial wanted to mess with your head and—”

  “The flower!” His voice sounded dark and gritty to his own ears. He jerked to his feet. Dean lurched to his, staggering back. “She was in the flower. When I brought it to the house, she was inside.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably it. Inside the flower.” He was nodding emphatically. “Listen, buddy, I think you should go home before somebody calls the—”

  “She can get really small.” The world tumbled into silence. “The size of a paper clip. That’s how she disappeared.”

  “Listen, buddy, we need to either sober you up or find you a shrink.”

  “No.” Retrieving his suit coat from the back of his chair, he pulled it onto one arm, letting the rest dangle. “I need to find her,” he said, and left the office.

  Chapter

  10

  “Lucy! Finally!”

  Max’s voice wrenched Avalina from her somersaulting dreams. Her little world was stale and narrow, but the jar had been removed from the bag and set on some elevated surface. She rose to her knees, peering through the glass.

  “What’s wrong?” The woman who rushed into the room was small by mortal standards. Her hair was a dark, burnished brown, pushed back behind one ear. Her brow was furrowed, her voice scratchy. “Did something happen to Jay?”

  “No. No. Everything’s fine.” Max shook his head, dreadlocks jostling.

  “Then what’s going on?” Fatigue had filtered into her tone. “Jeez, Max, you scared me half to death. Couldn’t this—”

  “Listen, Luce.” His voice was as jittery as his hands had been. “We’ve found the answer to our prayers.”

  There was a pause, long and fragile. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sunshadow Glen. We found a way to save it.”

  “Max. . . .” Her voice trailed off and she bent out of view, then reappeared, a patchy roan rabbit tucked under one arm. It tilted up its twitching nose and Lucy scowled, scratching distractedly beneath its jaw. Its left ear was ragged and curling at the end. One oversized hind foot jerked spasmodically with the rhythm of the woman’s ministrations. “I really appreciate you taking care of Jay. Teaching him about nature and conservation and . . .” Her eyes were dark and troubled, her brow furrowed beneath a wayward fringe of shiny bangs. “You’re a good man, Max, the best, but people don’t care about ferns and katydids. You did everything you could, but it’s time to face facts.” She set her jaw, pursed dry, unpolished lips. “The glen’s going to be developed. Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll save the little acreage by the bog.”

  “But there are things there,” he said, and fisted veined, brownberry hands. His face was as weathered as a revered oak. “Magical things.”

  Lucy’s expression broke for a moment, but she pulled the shroud of practicality around her. “The plants are precious. We’re losing them faster than we can discover their potential. I know that, but I can’t worry about it all the time. I’m tired, Max, and Jay needs new jeans. Stability. I can’t waste all my time on Sunshadow.”

  “It’s not a waste. Not—”

  “I barely make enough to cover the rent.”

  “Then crash with me.” He was animated suddenly, ancient eyes alight in his wind-weathered face. “You wouldn’t have to pay day care no more. That place is just a kiddy prison anyhow. Jay and I’d have a great time. He can help me sketch the plants we—”

  “I can’t live with you, Max. You know that. It’s bad enough I let Jay stay once a week. I can’t allow him to become any more attached than he already is. He loves you like a . . .” Her voice trailed off. “When you leave, I’d—Anyway, listen.” Her tone was brusque, businesslike. “I just came because I thought there was trouble. But I’ve got to get some sleep. I promised to be in at seven and the bus—”

  “It’s a faerie,” Max said, and Avalina closed her eyes in misery. It was bad enough that she had been captured, but it was unthinkable that she’d allowed her true identity to be revealed. And all because of William Timber. She hated him. Hated him, she told herself, and yet the shivery memory of his hands on her skin made her eyes well with tears. What was wrong with her? She was Fern Fey, proud, educated.

  “What did you say?” The woman’s voice sounded wispy, translucent.

  “Jay and me, we caught a faerie.”

  The room fell numbly into silence. “Max,” she said finally, “you promised.”

  “I’m not using, Luce. Swear to God. Here, come look,” he said, and, turning, flipped a switch. Light burst alive. Desperate, Ava dropped back into a ball, squeezing her eyes closed, sheltering herself with her wings. The jar trembled as he lifted it from the table.

  “Look,” he said again, voice suddenly hushed.

  The jar quivered, then steadied.

  “Max, it’s a bug.”

  “A bug! No.” He tapped the glass. Noise echoed in Avalina’s head, but she remained where she was, curled tight, unmoving. “Luce, I swear to you . . .” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She’s a faerie. She’s just sleeping.”

  “Max—”

  “Perfect little legs. Little hands. Eyes like violets in—”

  “This is crazy. I—”

  “Crazy lucky!” His voice was breathy, awed. “Don’t you see? People don’t give a shit about plants. I know that now. They wouldn’t care if they brought Christ himself back to life, but a faerie . . .”

  “Max, listen to me. I want you to get help. I can’t let Jay—”

  “No! Look,” he said, and tilted the jar closer to his chest. Avalina slid along the bottom of the glass, but she was ready, tensed, prepared. Noise grated through her very being as he unscrewed the cover. A draft of air curled in, and then she leapt, springing upward, wings unfurled, soaring toward freedom.

  But the lid slammed down, barely missing her fingers. She hovered against the glass, gasping, terrified.

  “Look! Look at her!” Max rasped, and Avalina zipped down to the bottom to hide beneath her wings once again. “Did you see her?”

  There was a heartbeat of silence.

  “What was that?” Lucy sounded shaken, fragile.

  “It’s a faerie.” Max laughed, giddy. “She’s a faerie.”

  “No. Max. It . . . It can’t be.”

  “Then it’s something else. Something we’ve never heard of before. Either way, Sunshadow wins. Everyone wins, even if they don’t know it y
et.”

  Elder sat in front of his pc, eyes gritty, hands shaky. He’d searched the woods for two days. Had called her name, had begged forgiveness, but she hadn’t answered. So now he searched the Internet, dredging up any shred of information he could find.

  Pinquil Fern, she’d said. She’d come to save the Pinquil Fern, but he could find no information about such a plant.

  Behind him, the television droned. The noise grated on nerves already worn raw, but he dared not shut it off. Just in case. In case there was a report of someone finding a magical girl with purple eyes.

  He’d contacted every hospital in the Pacific Northwest. He had also called the police, but telling them he was missing a woman with purple eyes and grasping hair had gained him little credibility. So now he sat alone, memories burning holes in his mind.

  Where was she? Was she safe? Was she angry? Did she hate him as he deserved to be hated? He was an idiot. Had been for years. Maybe his entire life. But no. He remembered back to his childhood, when he had believed in good, in right.

  The phone rang. He glanced at the number displayed on the screen. Emily again. He’d answered the first time she’d called. Had answered and apologized. Said the wedding was off. Said he wasn’t good enough for her. She’d cursed him until he’d hung up, then called back a half-dozen times. He hadn’t responded. Not even when her father had pounded on his door, telling him he had lost the account and could very well be taken to court. Lawyers would become involved. But none of it mattered.

  Avalina was out there somewhere. She wasn’t human. He knew that, but somehow such an insignificant detail failed to matter. She was light and hope and—

  “. . . the glen slated to be developed.”

  Will jerked toward the television, skittering across the floor to turn up the volume and stare at the screen from inches away.

  David Jackson, local news anchor, was standing, well dressed and perfectly groomed, in front of a stretching swath of nature. “Greenworld hasn’t said what species they have found in the woods fondly referred to as Sun-shadow Glen, the woods that so many have hoped to preserve, but the small yet tenacious environmental group does assert that it is a specimen so rare that there will no longer be any question of disrupting this untouched setting.”

  William’s heart was pounding like a race horse.

  “Franklin Meier of Meier Conglomerated disagrees,” said another talking head.

  Meier’s face appeared on-screen, confident, handsome, solidly reassuring. “Of course we will proceed with all due caution if an endangered species has truly been found, but so far we have no reason to believe that is the case. These environmental groups, while well-meaning, are not always credible sources.”

  “In retaliation, Max Braumberg, president of Green-world, stated that Meier Conglomerated has one of the worst environmental records in recent history.”

  Braumberg’s craggy, sun-hardened face appeared. It was surrounded by dreadlocks, creased by years, and showcased by a pair of half-crazy silver-shot eyes. “We’re not going to allow Meier or any other greedy corporation to ruin what’s left of one of Washington’s few remaining pristine areas.”

  The anchor’s face reappeared. “And in national news,” he said, but Will was already back at his pc, slamming Max Braumberg into his system. He’d never met the man in person, but by 2:00 A.M. Will had found out all he could about the environmentalist/artist. Will paced the length of his living room, chafing to be off, to speak to Braumberg in person. Did he have her? Had he found Avalina? Or was this just another hopeless ploy like the medicinal plant he claimed to have found in the glen some months before? The plant that had turned out to be nothing more than a seldom-seen weed.

  A few hours of sleepless tossing later, Will parked his car on Tay Street and hurried up the cracked walkway to Elmhurst Apartments. They were constructed of dirty bricks and dirtier stucco. He rang the bell for 418 and waited a lifetime for a response.

  “Yeah.” The voice that answered sounded grainy, tired.

  “Max Braumberg?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My name is Elder Mann. Can I speak to you for a minute?”

  “That depends on what you want, man,” he said, then chuckled rustily at his own wit.

  Will fought for sanity. “I’d like to discuss the future of Sunshadow Glen.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation before the buzzer rang.

  Will took the stairs three at a time. By the time he reached the fourth floor, Max was already standing in his open doorway, baseball bat in hand, tattered-eared rabbit at his feet.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  Will slowed his pace, tried to do the same with his heart. “Can I come in? Just for a few minutes?”

  Braumberg narrowed his eyes, jerked up his chin. “You with Meier?”

  “Who? No.”

  “ ’Cuz I can’t be bought. Meier knows that.”

  “I’m not trying to buy you,” Will said. “I’m just a concerned citizen. Like you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s terrible what they plan to do to the glen,” he said, and suddenly he meant it. Felt it like an open wound in his soul.

  “You a member of Greenworld?”

  Will’s mind raced. “No.”

  “Tomorrow’s Branches?”

  Where was she? Was she in his apartment right now? Was she safe? Was she afraid? “Since ’06,” he said.

  “There’s no such organization,” Max growled, and, tightening his grip, pulled back the bat.

  “Wait a minute. Wait. I’m sorry. Listen. I saw you on TV last night.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And I think . . . I think I can help you.”

  “Help me how?”

  His mind was racing. “I’m an entomologist. If you’ll let me see your specimen, I can verify whether it’s truly rare or—”

  “An entomologist?”

  “Yes.”

  “What makes you think I got an insect? The news clip didn’t say.”

  Shit. “I assumed. It’s unlikely to be a mammal.”

  “What about amphibians?”

  Frustration burned him. “What?”

  “We’ve lost more than a hundred kinds of frogs just in the last thirty years.”

  Will felt dizzy, sick. “Frogs?”

  “Entomologist, my ass!” Braumberg snorted and shooed the rabbit back inside with his foot.

  “Listen, I’m sorry. You’re right,” Will began, but Max was already closing the door. “I failed her,” he rasped.

  Braumberg peered out, crazy eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Will’s knees felt weak, his mind mushy with hope and love and a million emotions he’d never tried to catalog. That had seemed unimportant until this moment. “Her name’s Avalina.”

  Braumberg looked wary, disturbed. “You’re dippy, man. Get yourself—”

  “I had forgotten about love.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then: “You’d better get out of here before I call the cops.”

  “How it grabs your heart. How it makes you alive.”

  “I’m sorry,” Braumberg said, and stepped back.

  “She has purple eyes!” Will rasped.

  “Balls,” Max whispered.

  “You have her, don’t you?” He felt weak with hope, aged with longing. “Is she okay? Is she—”

  “Timber!” a voice boomed. Will turned. Franklin Meier was storming down the hall toward him. “You bloody bastard!”

  “You’re with him?” Max hissed.

  “No, I swear—,” Will began, but the door had already closed. And suddenly he was swung around. He tried to turn back to plead with Braumberg, but Meier swung a fist, plowing him against the wall.

  “So you’re behind this damned hoax!” he snarled.

  Will straightened, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, mind slowing, thoughts tumbling. “Yes,” he said. “I’m behind it, but it’s not a hoa
x. I’ve found a never-before-seen species.”

  “Yeah?” Meier’s eyes were crafty. “What are you doing here then?”

  “Braumberg had the connections to Greenworld. Immediate press.”

  “So Braumberg has the . . . thing?”

  Will forced a gritty laugh. “Sure. I trust him with a billion-dollar discovery.”

  “You’re lying. I don’t believe you’ve become a damned tree hugger.”

  Will dabbed at the blood with the back of his wrist. “So the rumors are true; you’re not as dumb as you look.”

  Meier narrowed his eyes, drew back a couple of inches, nodded. “You plan to make a profit off this.”

  Will smiled. Blood smear across his teeth.

  “Then what’s your price?”

  “More than you can afford, Meier. Once Max there spreads the word, every do-gooder on the planet will be screaming, ‘Preserve and conserve,’ and I’ll be a damned hero. An environmental genius. I’ve got people working up sketches for interactive nature displays round the clock. The government will seize the glen, and you’ll be a laughingstock.”

  Meier swung again and Will let him. The blow caught Will across the jaw, knocked him back against the wall, but it was almost refreshing. Certainly deserved.

  Chapter

  11

  Will waited in the darkness. He had left his car a few blocks back and crouched behind a leaning arborvitae. It was cold and damp, the air heavy with impending rain, but it didn’t matter. Braumberg would be moving Avalina. He was sure of it. Maybe his own lies to Meier had bought the gangly tree hugger a little time, but even Braumberg wouldn’t be idiotic enough to believe Meier and his goons would stay gone forever.

  Which meant . . .

  Something creaked in the night. William strained his eyes, watching the outline of the apartment building’s back door, but it remained closed. Braumberg wouldn’t risk the front door. Will was certain of that. At least he had been. He rubbed his eyes. Midnight had come and gone hours before, but he wasn’t tired. Guilt and fear and raging hope kept him awake, alert, but the tinny sound of metal against metal scraped his consciousness, and suddenly he knew! The fire escape! Max had exited by another route.