The fool hadn’t known that you must tempt children nearer before you begin to sing, for the magic of home is too strong for them, a fact I knew all too well. That was how my own curse began, nigh on a century ago—by breaking all the laws.
“Give her to me,” my cousin growled, a fierce expression folding his face. His shape wavered when the sunlight grew stronger, passing from behind a bank of thick summer clouds. His naked skin sizzled and he drew away from me into the shadows. “She is my spoil. ’Twas my enchantment!”
“No. And you know it well. All that which lies within my boundaries is mine and mine alone.”
“ ’Twasn’t always that way, though,” he teased, trying to draw me out to battle. “Time was your mate shared this land with you, until you killed her.”
My blood turned to venom. I left the child on the ground and stepped nearer the forest’s edge. With one hand I reached through sun and shade until I gripped him by the throat and squeezed. I had been wrong, he wasn’t nearly as old or as strong as I was.
“You are wrong,” I said through gritted teeth, “though I thank you for reminding me.”
Both of my hands were about his throat then, tightening, driving the life from his ragged carcass as he flailed and clawed. I held him, breathless as if he had plunged beneath a pool of icy water, watched his strength fail, all the while enjoying his torment, until I heard the child moan behind me.
She was waking up.
“Begone, foul beast,” I said in lowered tones. “Leave and never return or I promise you, I will finish what we have begun on this day. And you will cross over into the Land of Nightmares, never to return.” I released him and he fell to the ground like a sack of dead rabbits, loose and unmoving. Only his eyes glaring up at me and the shallow movement of his chest proved that life still flowed through his bones.
I turned my back on him, shifting my skin at the same time, assuming the familiar features of Mr. Ash, caretaker of the nearby inn and groundskeeper of the forest. I sang my own soft enchantment as the child opened her eyes, changing her memories just a bit so she’d forget about the wild creatures she had seen here today.
She wiped a hand across her forehead and yawned.
“Miss MacFaddin,” I said, a tone of surprise in my voice. “Have you taken a nap in the woods?” I reached a hand down to draw her to her feet.
She nodded as she looked around us both, a bit confused.
“I did,” she answered, her brow furrowed as if she didn’t believe her own words.
Some enchantments take instantly. Others take days. Eventually, she would forget that she had seen me in my true shape.
“Let me walk you back to your cabin and safety, young lady,” I said, putting one hand ever so gently upon her shoulder.
She glanced up at me through that wild tangle of dark hair, her eyes filled with mystery and curiosity and something that I don’t see very often. Gratitude. Some part of her still remembered what she had seen, I realized, and that thought made me strangely glad.
We parted at the forest’s edge, her cabin in sight. She turned at the halfway mark, when she was fully surrounded by green meadow; she waved at me and smiled. I saw her imaginary friends gather about her, only this time I could see who and what they were.
A cowboy, a princess, a faery, all pale as ghosts.
And another shadowy creature, new to the pack, stood away from the others, wings folded neatly at his back.
This last creature was me.
Chapter 2
Ticonderoga Falls
Ash:
A bell on the door jangled and a hush fell across the room. I stood near the counter, a pile of odd supplies stacked before me as I waited for old Mr. Hudson to snap to attention and tell me how much I owed him. Then the room filled with a hint of early frost, mingled with the fragrance of sunlight and fallen leaves, and somehow, without even turning, I knew that she had just walked into Ticonderoga Falls’ only grocery store.
Twenty-five years later, she had returned.
I wanted to look around and see how she had grown, see if those imaginary friends of hers still tottered just at the edge of sight. But I kept my eyes downcast instead, focused on the counter and the bag of sugar and the pound of coffee.
She laughed and a smile teased the corner of my mouth. Another voice joined hers, a young boy.
“Samwise is watching us, Mom. Look,” he said.
Then I swiveled on my heel, took all three of them in one glance.
A tall woman hesitated at the end of one of the crowded aisles, dark hair falling in tangles around her shoulders, a small boy at her side with hair the color of autumn birch leaves, while a dog stood just outside the window, grinning in at them, a leash tethering him to a lamppost.
She looked up and her gaze caught mine. No memory of me flickered in her eyes, but then why should it? I’d changed my skin since she’d been a little girl. I’d had to. Couldn’t stay the same person in this small town, not when I’d easily outlive all the inhabitants and their grandchildren.