Kheelan smoldered at the humiliation. His skin burned from it, his mouth scorched from the angry words he must never say aloud. They had stolen him from his human family, a family of which he had no memories. He’d no doubt been sleeping unaware the night those cradle robbers came and forced him into a lifetime of servitude and danger.
He got nothing in return. No love, no acceptance, and no hope of a future. Indeed, they despised him.
Changeling. How he hated the word, been taunted with it, as if it was some kind of deformity on his part. A mere changeling, worthy of nothing more than scorn and tolerated for what he could do in their selfish, petty wars or their unending, menial labors. He summoned his enormous will and pushed the bitter thoughts away. Deep in his mind was a place no one else could enter, a private refuge he refused to let them destroy. A soul some might call it. His and his alone.
The sound of music vibrated from the girl’s apartment. It was dramatic, haunting even. He liked it, appreciated that it was worlds different from the incessant Celtic flute, or even worse, the brain-splintering bagpipe music his captors so adored. Kheelan closed his eyes and let the melody wash over his senses.
When the music stopped, he looked up to the window and saw the light extinguished. He yearned for the light, the music, and most of all for the unknown human girl curled up in bed, unknowing and uncaring of the forces swirling around her. No, not her specifically, he corrected himself. Merely what she represented—normalcy. She probably had a family who thought she could do no wrong, who were proud of her every accomplishment, a daddy’s girl, princess-type. They had nothing in common. The human was a suspect, one of many he must investigate in this college town.
Somebody was murdering the pixies. His job was to find out who and why and bring them to the Fae’s royal Seelie Court. Should he fail . . . well, even the good Fae of the Seelie Court had their ways of punishing, and if a member of the Unseelie Court discovered a changeling meddling in their affairs, it could mean an even worse fate. As a human changeling, his purpose was to mingle with his fellow mortals, searching for information to assist the good Fae in their unceasing war with the bad, Unseelie Fae. Too bad they never entrusted him with any special powers in his work – probably afraid he would use magic to escape his bondage.
Time to leave. He would come back tomorrow night. Samhain, the witch’s Halloween, drew nearer, each year more sinister than the one before. His instructions from the Seelie Court Fae, his owners, were to find the culprit before Samhain. Or else. That left a mere two weeks. Kheelan wrapped the deep maroon duster tightly around his lithe body and disappeared into the night to join the unsuspecting, blissfully ignorant, human mass.
***
“The Moon. Five of Swords. Seven of Cups,” Glenna announced in voice laden with doom.
Skye bit her lower lip, smothering a laugh as Glenna surveyed the tarot cards. At Glenna’s expression of defeat, she tried to encourage her coworker. “Oh, come on. It can’t be all bad.”
Claribel, the storeowner, winked at Skye from across the store.
Same old Glenda, same old Claribel. Skye’s pride still smarted from last night’s rejection, but the routine of classes and her job helped keep her mind off the hurt.
“‘Course it’s bad, always is,” said Glenna, not comforted in the least. “The Moon card means that things are not what they appear. The Five of Swords reveals I am being deceived and the Seven of Cups represents illusions and confusion.”
Skye squirted more glass cleaner on the display counter. “Don’t go jumping all over your boyfriend tonight with false accusations.”
“Who says it has anything to do with Mickey?” Glenna scowled and swiped up the offending cards. “It could be anybody. Trust no one.” She wrapped the deck in a purple silk cloth and put it back in its wooden case beneath the cash register.
Gloomy Glenna, bet she’s a real blast on a date. Skye moved on to the crystal displays, her favorite spot in The Green Fairy shop. The color and textures of the crystals never failed to enchant her.
“You could look at that tarot spread another way.” Claribel toted a stack of books to the front counter, breathing hard from the minor exertion. She dropped the books on the counter with a grunt and pushed wisps of curls away from her eyes. “The Moon represents your considerable psychic abilities, the Five of Swords can mean victory and the Seven of Cups may be warning you to listen to your emotions instead of your intellect.”
Glenna tossed her mane of long, black hair. “No way.”