Changeling
by Debbie Herbert
Chapter 1
Firefly
Another spell gone kaput. Damn.
A thin curl of smoke wafted to the left from the candle’s weak flame, an omen of defeat. The same sign as last week when she tried to concoct a love potion with a lock of Tanner’s hair. If her family’s Book of Shadows were any lamer it would have a picture of freaking Tinker Bell on the front. She should have been studying tonight instead of casting worthless spells. Freshman year at college was harder than she’d anticipated.
Skye blew out the sputtering pink candle. No matter how hard she tried, they never worked. Maybe asking for Tanner to come over immediately and declare his hidden and undying love was too much of a stretch for even the all-powerful divine.
Bet Callie could do it.
Skye whipped out her cell phone, but stopped mid-dial. Callie would say it was wrong to request a specific person’s love because it violated their free will to choose for themselves. Only do a spell to open yourself to love and for the right person to come along. Same thing Skye told customers at The Green Fairy trying to get their boyfriends back.
As if there could be anyone for her but Tanner.
What she really needed was courage. She should tell Tanner how she felt. It was possible he was blind to her feelings even after all these years.
The crunch of gravel in the driveway and the rumble of a car engine startled her and Skye opened the curtain. Tanner’s old Dodge Charger pulled up.
Unbelievable – her spell actually worked this time. Maybe she had some witchy-talent after all.
Tanner sprang out of the car, waved, then bounded up the steps laden with paper bags in both arms. His easy smile twisted her insides like it had since grade school.
She would do it. Tonight. Just get it over with. She’d mooned over him all during those miserable, outcast high school years when she’d been branded as the weird, Goth girl. College was supposed to be different. Her chance to escape labels and dare try new things.
Skye opened the door and Tanner stopped short, one fisted hand raised to knock. “Eager to see me?” His deep voice filled the silence, his tone was always teasing, always seemed to hold a secret laughter and confident charisma.
Skye’s breath caught for a moment. He looked sexy as hell with his dancing eyes and wind-swept hair. Her spell was answered; maybe her dreams would be too. If Callie were here, she would tell Skye to believe and all would work out.
“Michael asked me to drop this by.” Tanner held up the bags. “He noticed your fridge was looking pretty low last time you cooked for us.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.” She led him to the kitchen and put up the groceries, hyper aware of his masculine presence. “What’s Michael doing tonight?” Her brother and Tanner were almost always together.
Tanner wouldn’t quite meet her eye. “He’s busy. Where do you want me to put this bottle of Diet Coke?”
Everything clicked. Michael’s dad, their dad, was in town on a visit. A visit that didn’t include his daughter. It hurt, but it was no surprise. He’d left home not long after she was born and they were strangers. Michael had been two years old at the time. Time enough to, in pop psychology-speak, ‘bond’. Dear ole Dad must have slipped Michael some money and her brother was sweet enough to share.
“Just put it on the counter,” she said dully. Here she was trying to build her confidence to talk to Tanner and rejection slapped her in the face.
“Mind if I have one?” Without waiting for an answer, he filled a glass with ice and poured a drink.
Don’t let your father’s neglect keep you from talking to Tanner.
Skye gathered her courage. “Tanner, can we talk?”
“Okay.” He pulled a chair up to the kitchen table and she sat across from him. “Shoot.”
She stared in his eyes; they always sparkled as if he was secretly amused by everybody and everything. In the ensuing silence, Skye heard the hum of the fridge, the drone of the TV from downstairs, and music blaring from several houses down.
“Spit it out.” Tanner hated stillness.
“How long have we known each other?”
“Fifth grade. Michael was the first friend I made when I moved to Piedmont. You were the second.”
Skye saw her opening. “Is that how you still think of me – as Michael’s little sister . . . a friend?”
“Of course.”
Her heart contracted into a hard little bundle of hurt. He certainly wasn’t keeping her in suspense; there had been no hesitation in his answer. He shifted his eyes to the floor. Not a good sign. But she might as well keep going. Her heart pounded and her palms sweated.
“What if I wanted more?” The words were quiet, but in the silence, the inner thrumming of Skye’s racing pulse roared in her ears.