Page 4 of The Fae’s Treasure

“The bargain is struck!” she hisses—and then looks confused when nothing happens.

I look up from my place beneath her, rolling my eyes as I lie on the floor with her barbs in my skin, trying to keep my expression bored and irritated. “I said, ‘Tell me where the babe is, and I’ll give you half.’ You haven’t told me anything yet, which is why we’re just lying here, waiting.”

“Oh. Pine Ridge! Balsam Boulevard, last house, with some woman. Now! Give me what you promised!” Saz screams.

I reach into my pocket and pull out one of the oaty biscuits I’m so fond of. “Here you go. Half.” I snap the biscuit in half while slowly pooling my powers inside, anger now replacing the calm mask I wore. “Bonwit’s best. A delight in a comforting, starchy sort of way. Just a hint of autumn spices.”

Saz stares at the crumbling half-biscuit I’ve offered her. “You said you—”

“I said, and I quote, ‘Tell me where the babe is, and I’ll give you half—but only half, Saz, and you must promise never to bother me or the child again.’ This is half, and only half, of my favorite oaty biscuit, and the last one I had, too.” I smirk, just a bit, anger dancing in my eyes.

Saz’s breathing speeds up, and I throw her off before she can attack me, her talons inches from my throat. “Liar!” she rages.

“Oh, hark who’s talking,” I snap back. “Go! Go, and remember this bargain has been made—sealed with your own blood. You may never bother me or the child again.”

“Fool. You used such vague words, and curses on me for thinking you were good and trustworthy,” she spits.

“Oh, dear me. I suppose I could say the same, hm?” My shoulders heave as I gather racing autumn winds into my body, through my domain. Bonwit is suddenly in the doorway, but he’s blown back into the hall the second he forces his way inside.

“Bother? Bother, you say?” Saz cackles, head back, every inch a seductive, evil villainess. “I will never ‘bother’ either of you. I won’t come over and ask to borrow your favorite books, I won’t interrupt you while you’re speaking, or flick your ear.” Saz is growing. Seething hatred seems to make her taller. The veins along her delicate throat bulge, and her crimson skin is glowing like a forge above the low neckline of her gown. “Killing isn’t bothering!” she howls and soars towards me.

With one mighty clap of my hands, arms straight out and then together, wind rushes from the heavens and through her, a hurricane gale in a single motion, blowing her out of the door that Bonwit so helpfully holds open, even as he’s lifted off his feet.

“You are no longer welcome here. This place is now a haven only for fae, and our halflings, and our allies,” I boom, thunder in my voice, and lightning dancing from my fingertips to hit her squarely in the chest. “You are now an enemy, and are barred from this realm by the word of the fae and our ancient laws!”

There’s another thunderclap that echoes, not from my voice but from the heavens and perhaps even my entire realm. With a screech that fades as if she’s falling a great distance—Saz winks away, forced from my realm.

And I have to leave it, too. “Bonwit, hurry. We’re going to the mortal realm. Pine Ridge, it’s called. I have to find my child.”

Chapter Two: Deanna

You know what’s unnerving?

Coming to a new town, in a new state, and feeling lonely and worried about your new job—and then hearing something skitter across your porch. Hearing something that sounds like spooky branches rattling in the autumn winds directly against your kitchen windows and back porch door—and you don’t have any trees, and it’s still the beginning of September, and there aren’t any bare branches yet.

“If Aaron were here, I’d just ask him to go check,” I tell Ruffles—only to remember that I don’t have Ruffles, either. Ruffles was Aaron’s dog. Even a mutually “friendly” breakup doesn’t mean shared custody of the dog when the breaker-uppers live six states apart.

For a second, I consider calling Aaron at his new place in Milwaukee just to have him listen in while I go check. Yeah, we couldn’t figure out how to live with each other without nightly arguments, but he wouldn’t want to see me end up on the news. Single female slaughtered in peaceful suburb.

I take the chef’s knife from the knife block on my hyper-organized counter (you’d never know I only moved in yesterday) and open the door, telling myself that I’m silly, but prepared.

Only I’m not in the least prepared for what’s on my porch.

A baby.

A literal, actual, live baby, wrapped in a soft yellow blanket.

A baby that doesn’t look quite right, with its tiny size and smushed, weak form like a newborn—but quiet, and pale, and looking at me with wide, curious red eyes.

Red eyes.

“Is this a prank?” I shout. Someone in my new development works in the horror industry. They’ve put a creepy little animatronic down to scare the newcomer. Real nice, punks.

“Ennh. Ennhh!” The little bundle on my porch scrunches and unscrunches, tiny hands near his face, lower lip starting to crumple.

“Oh, heck no,” I breathe out, putting the knife on the counter and hurrying to bend and grab the baby. I look all around, but my quiet street is even more quiet than usual. Well, for what I think is usual, again having been here a grand total of three times in my life, and only living here for two days.

“Ennh! Ennnnhhhh!”