Faeries Gone Wild Read online

  “He teaches trigonometry at a junior college! And Cincinnati is a metropolis, with museums and galleries, even electricity and running water.”

  John brushed off Alec’s attempt at levity. “I’ll tell you what I told him on the phone just last week. You want an executive post in my organization, it’s yours. As soon as tomorrow. You can sit at a computer all day devising strategies or crunching numbers. Whichever your plea sure.”

  Alec groaned. “I can imagine Ken’s answer. You can imagine mine.”

  John smirked. “So who isn’t sure he doesn’t want to play fireman?”

  “Point taken. I will drop into the station.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  “Like tomorrow? Tuesday nights are potluck.”

  Alec’s mouth curled. “You remembered.”

  “You miss enough of my events to make it matter.”

  “I was planning to corner Chief Mitchell at a quieter—”

  “And make it all look staged?”

  “My comeback? Honestly, I don’t expect a standing ovation.”

  “No, Alec. Your questions about my fire.”

  “Mitchell won’t tell me if they’re holding back any crucial findings.”

  “At least find out if there are any crucial findings. Find out if they’re earning the taxpayers’ money.”

  Alec smiled faintly. This appeared to be a thinly disguised campaign to get him back on the job. After all, the Winter enterprise owned dozens of properties to take up his time. And by all appearances the fire was an accident perpetrated by trespassers. Perhaps most important, John was always good under pressure, sure of his well-groomed reputation. “I promise to do what I can,” Alec said fondly.

  “Great. Let’s celebrate with some dessert.”

  “The dessert here is way too nutritious. But let’s have coffee. I want to tell you all about your new tenant.”

  Tia fell in love at first sight with Central Park, a wondrous haven of green with traces of home.

  She and Alec had parted ways on the West Side near the Reservoir at 86th Street, on the promise they’d meet up in two and a half hours’ time and she wouldn’t wander off too far on her own. She had stood in place while he’d crossed the street, waved when he waved. She even waited several minutes after he entered a skyscraper, just in case he felt the urge to wave again.

  After that, however, she stepped behind a bush to let it all hang out. Which to a Luna Fey meant spreading her wings in all their gossamer glory.

  Bowing her head in concentration, she urged her wings to sprout from the ridges of her shoulder blades, while at the same time shifting into a dress of rose petals in place of her street clothes. Making certain she was still undetected, she took a deep breath and willed her heart rate up far beyond human endurance. She stretched and flexed. Then with a brisk flapping motion, she lifted herself several inches off the ground and into another dimension boasting far less gravity. While not totally invisible to the naked human eye, she was moving at a much quicker vibration. At best, someone with extremely keen senses might catch a glimpse of wing or shadow.

  She continued to hover in place, waiting for the rush that signaled a full recharge of her Enchanted energies. Then in a shimmery streak of gossamer and platinum, she tore off in a horizontal glide.

  Tia soared low over the park, marveling that the city jungle of concrete and steel could boast water, trees, and grasslands in splendorous relief.

  Swooping over a lake boasting paddleboats, she sank low enough to ruffle the hair of some children, rescue a fallen robins’ nest, even slow a runaway stroller on a footpath. It occurred to her that she could always find quick rejuvenation here from the stresses of mortal life. A single hour attuned with nature would always rejuvenate. If she did indeed decide to stay on.

  It was in the quickened zone accessible to all Enchanted creatures that she eventually spotted Blot sitting in a tree quite near her spot of liftoff. The roundish leprechaun was dressed in his favored green velvet outfit, sitting atop a towering forty-foot oak, basking in a dapple of sunlight. With equal measures of affection and frustration, she swooped up to surprise him. With great success, as he promptly teetered off his lounging branch, yelping all the way down.

  As expected, he landed squarely on the soles of his green boots, with, at most, a bruise to his dignity. After all, no species indigenous to the Isle of Man had better buoyancy than the leprechaun, not to mention the unparalleled ability to relocate in a blink with or without passengers, turn invisible, and, of course, tote huge amounts of gold.

  He wasn’t on the ground seconds before rolling over to the mortal dimension, in the guise of a Caucasian midget, his green skin paling to paste, his velvet suit melding to street clothes. Tia was quick to land as well. Cooling down with deep breaths, she inverted her wings and shifted her rose petal dress back to her original tight-fitting jeans and a striped blouse.

  Hands on hips, she confronted him in dismay. “Are you spying on me?”

  Hopping up on a nearby park bench, he smugly thrust a fat finger in her face. “It is you who’s come to my turf!”

  She grew sheepish. “Guess I have. Though perfectly by chance.”

  “In any event, I’m glad you’re here. I have been worried.”

  “You shouldn’t—”

  “Mostly for your mother’s sake!”

  “She didn’t seem worried. This was her idea.”

  Blot paced the length of the bench. “Parents often lament their own ideas. Maeve is roiling in confusion and guilt. Should she have worked harder to find you a male who could stand your . . . features? Worked harder to hide those features in the first place? Or should she have told you the truth sooner? Chased after your father like a devoted sea-spotted terrier earlier on than that!” He spat out the last in utter distaste.

  “Conflicts we know you don’t share.”

  “We are what we are,” Blot maintained. “Enchanted beings. Should be more than enough.”

  “Still, you spend most of your time here.”

  “For my work. Can’t regulate pots of gold from my seaside cottage. So what are you doing in the park, Tia, if not to track me down?”

  “I’m here with a friend. Who should be back any minute now.” She dashed over to the bushes, only to return with the Frisbee in her hands.

  Blot was hot on her heels. “Where did you get that thing?”

  “It’s a gift.”

  “I’ve seen them around the park. Humans delight in throwing them.”

  “I’m out to try their favorite things. Choose my new favorites.”

  “You already sound pretty chummy about being one of ’em.”

  “I’m off to a good start. Managed to lease space in my father’s building.”

  Stoically he folded his arms across his small barrel chest. “How handy.”

  “Aren’t you even going to ask if I met my father?”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  His droopy face lifted slightly.

  “I will meet him eventually. My new friend, Alec, is a friend of his.”

  “That was quick.”

  “Men here find me much more appealing, even aromatic,” she confided.

  “So you’re bound to let your human side simply take over?”

  “Not necessarily. In an ideal situation, I’d be accepted as half ’n’ half.”

  “What mortals call a dairy product. Please go home, Tia, before you lose your Enchanted edge, before the real heartache sets in. Surely you understand that the realm you consort with will be your dominant one.”

  “Can embracing the human be worse than the heartache of my last few years on the Isle? Shunned by old classmates who thought I’d outgrow my abnormalities, rejected by males with marginal wit and intelligence—singing voices worse than my own? Which, by the way, isn’t a problem here. My singing is considered good,” she confided excitedly.

  “How startling.” Blot cleared his throat. “I mean, how st
erling.”

  “It seems smartest to let nature take its course, pull my strengths to light. Soon enough I’ll know who I am and where I belong.” Tia beamed affectionately. “C’mon, let’s throw the Frisbee together, like the natives do.” She trotted back to put some distance between them and artfully fired off the plastic toy.

  Blot humphed as the whirling disk sliced him squarely in the paunch.

  Alec’s anxiety melted at the sight of Tia launching their Frisbee into an aging midget’s midsection. She hadn’t landed some Adonis after all. Probably had, in fact, chosen one of the safest playmates in the park.

  “There she is up ahead,” Alec confided to John. “Tia!” Alec called out.

  She turned, froze, and gave a jerky wave.

  “Honey, I want you to meet John Winter. The owner of our building.”

  “Oh.” Her tone and eyes went softer than Alec had seen out of bed.

  “Tia’s been dying to meet you, John.”

  “Has she? How nice.”

  Alec would have liked to see more than John’s genial public relations smile, after the glowing description he’d given Tia. But the Winter family was reserved by nature, and always slow to trust in the way many rich people are—due to the large number of opportunists floating around.

  “Love the . . . building,” Tia chirped in a gap of silence.

  “Alec tells me you’re visiting far from home,” John said pleasantly. “Under the circumstances, I’d never insist you sign a long-term lease.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  Alec thought Tia was staring at John rather intensely, as if trying to squeeze something more from the moment. It happened with acquaintances, familiar with the mogul’s celebrity. Though come to think of it, Tia hadn’t known who he was.

  “Alec, John, this is . . .” Tia wavered over the little old man beside her.

  “Mr. Blot,” he intoned. “Just showing this young lady how to toss one of these things.”

  John’s deeply tanned face crinkled in amusement. “We saw you in action.”

  As the smaller man’s expression darkened, Tia took back the Frisbee and touched his arm. “It was so nice meeting you, Mr. Blot.”

  He bared pointy yellowed teeth. “Yes. How kind of you, Miss Mayberry, to insist we meet again soon.”

  Tia cocked a platinum brow. “Guess I’m a real nice gal.”

  “Rest assured, I have your number. Alec. Trey.” With a curt nod, Mr. Blot was off.

  “I must be getting along, too,” John intoned. “Good day, Tia. Enjoy the firehouse chili, Alec.”

  Chapter

  4

  “You told that little guy your last name. Where you live.” Alec shut the magazine he was reading and gazed at Tia, nestled beside him on his sofa. “I still can’t believe it.”

  Tia, intently watching a man named Jay Leno on the television, wrinkled her nose at the interruption. “I knew you’d come back round to it eventually.”

  “There’s just something about the guy. Not sure what.”

  She made a funny sound, though she remained glued to the screen.

  “Equally not sure what kind of magic he worked on you.”

  “No spell of any kind. Honestly.”

  “Good to hear,” Alec returned with more humor. “Though he looked magical. Give him a little green suit and he could have leapt off a box of Lucky Charms.”

  “What are Lucky Charms?”

  “A children’s breakfast cereal with a leprechaun spokesperson.”

  “Sounds like a healthy role model. A strike against Enchanted discrimination.”

  Alec fingered her luxuriant white-blond hair. “Oh, Tia, I love you.”

  This tore her interest away from the program, sent her bouncing right into his lap! “You do, Alec? Really?”

  He flinched. “I love so many things about you, I—What the hell, I do believe I’m falling for you.” Grasping her chin, he locked in on her ever-hypnotic peepers. “In fact, I know it.”

  “You aren’t fighting it, are you?” she demanded abruptly.

  “No, no. It just seems so impossible, meeting you at such a low point, zipping up to such a high one so quick.”

  “But isn’t that what happens with the right blend of chemistry?”

  “Yes, honey. It’ll just take some time to make sure it’s real for us. We don’t want to rush ahead and hurt one another.”

  “A part of me would like to lose myself in you forever,” she admitted in raw candor. “No more questions asked. But as you know, pesky questions have a way of creeping in.”

  “Now she has questions!” he lamented. “No questions for Mr. Lucky Charms.”

  She sighed indulgently. “I’m sure he’s harmless, Alec.”

  “He struck me as the kind who could become a real pest.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Okay. Enough said.”

  “So, Alec, do you think John Winter liked me?”

  “What’s not to like?”

  “That’s sweet. But do you?”

  “You really are anxious to make new friends today.”

  She busily rearranged some of the dark hair that had tumbled into his vision. “I just think John would be worth the effort, being so special to you and all.”

  “He is. You’ll charm him in no time, probably even be invited to call him Trey, an honor reserved for his closet posse.”

  “Trey,” she repeated. “Guess I did hear that mentioned. Does it have meaning?”

  “He’s the third John in his family—Trey.”

  “Sounds like a lovely arrangement.” A smile flooding her face, she wrapped her arms around Alec and snuggled in close. He felt a stirring of desire. They hadn’t done it on the sofa yet.

  “What did he mean, about the firehouse chili?”

  “Huh?”

  “John,” she pressed. “When he said good-bye.”

  Alec rubbed the back of his neck to find it stiff. “He wants me to work my way back into the station.”

  “Have you been kicked out?”

  He laughed, albeit edgily. “Nothing like that.”

  She stroked his cheek. “Please tell me about it. Prove that you want to move beyond the chemistry.”

  “Okay.” He shifted on the sofa but held her fast in his arms. “Since my injury on the job, I’ve sort of avoided visiting the fire station. At first it was because I was pretty badly hurt, having fallen through a floor. It was all I could do to get to my doctors and therapists. Then, more recently, I discovered my breaks and sprains were healed. People started noticing, too.”

  “Like Marie.”

  “Yes. What no one understands is what caused my fall in the first place. What keeps holding me back emotionally even now.”

  “The original fire from your boyhood?”

  “Yes,” he said with surprise. “How’d you . . .”

  “Merely a guess. We’re all defined by childhood scars.”

  “My dad’s burning cigarette started the blaze in the living room. It soon spread upstairs to where my mother and I slept. I remember waking to the stench of smoke, opening my door to confront a wall of flames. Then remember slamming it shut again, running round my room in helpless circles. If I try I can still taste the smoke, feel the cape of my superhero pajamas billowing off my shoulders.”

  “Superhero?”

  “Fictional character with magic powers.”

  “Ah.”

  “At any rate, I was in dire need of a real hero just then and he came on a whine of siren. Drawn to the window, I pushed it open. A giant fire truck stopped out front. Out popped a crew of firefighters, among them Gus Martin. Through the melee he was soon scrambling up a ladder to my window. A regular guy underneath some impressive gear, I came to find out. But on the job, fueled by a desire to rescue others, he became superhuman.

  “All went well at first. He managed to get me over the sill and onto the ladder. Neither of us was prepared for what happened next, though, my terror over the sec
ond-story height. Several rungs down I jolted in his grip. We both lost our balance and fell. Both broke some bones,” he admitted morosely. “Gus held no grudge, though. We mended together in the hospital. He was there when I got the bad news about my folks. He was around as I lived on with my crabby grandmother. Through Gus I learned the true meaning of heroism: ordinary guys who take on the extraordinary. I realized I wanted to follow in his footsteps. Save some lives myself. I was doing a pretty good job of it, too. Until that last blaze.”

  “Go on,” she urged gently.

  “Quite unexpectedly, I seized in panic. I’d gotten everyone on the second floor out the window and on the ladder—as is procedure. Then as it was my turn to bail, the floor beneath me began to give way with a resounding crack, opened wide to shooting flames. At that moment, my unconscious opened wide, jogged loose the buried memory of that childhood fire. I hesitated only briefly, to anticipate the horror of taking another long fall. Unfortunately, it was enough time for the floor to give way under my feet. It was so out of character for me, I still have trouble accepting it,” he finished bitterly.

  “Did something set this fire apart from others? Some added pressure?”

  “Probably. I went in knowing the building belonged to John—”

  “Our John?”

  “Yes.” He smiled faintly at her wide eyes. “The minute I heard there was a small crowd trapped inside, I worried the Winters were among them. I’d dined with John and Helen earlier, and while there’d been no mention of a stop there, the building was earmarked for a charity of Helen’s. It was feasible they’d brought people around for a visit. As they are the closet thing I have to parents now, the department shrink relates my fear for their safety to my old fears for my parents.

  “The scene was chaotic from the get-go. A mix of trespassers who knew they shouldn’t be there and were not eager to hand out names. For me, it was an emotional course for disaster. Not that that is any excuse.”

  “Oh, Alec, the last thing Gus would want you to do is toss off your career over one hesitation.”

  “I know. He’d insist everything happens for a reason, to teach us a lesson, help us grow into better people. There’s nothing wrong with being a fragile human being. The trick is to play on strengths and work on weaknesses.”