Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback

The warrior? That guy’s already dead, Russell wanted to say. That guy doesn’t exist any more. But of course he didn’t, because it wasn’t true. “What do you mean?”


“I told you that I’m the last remaining guardian of the lakes. When I am gone, the lakes will run with the blood of the gifted.”

Russell rubbed his stubbly chin. “What’s the mission? Do you want me to slaughter all the people who’re dumping crap into the lake?”

Laurel shook her head. “Pollution is a problem, but our immediate concern is the storm hag of the lake.”

“The storm hag of the lake,” the nixies sang.

“What—what—what—wait a minute,” Russell said. “Storm hag?”

“You’ve not heard of her?” Laurel tilted her head, perplexed. “She is famous. All the Lake Erie sailors know about her.”

“I don’t know any sailors,” Russell said. “I’m not from around here.

I just came in on the bus.”

“I’ve known a lot of sailors,” she said.

Russell put up both hands. He had a feeling he didn’t want to know about the sailors. “Never mind. Tell me about this hag.”

“Her name is Jenny Greenteeth. She roams the lakes, riding on an enormous lake sturgeon. She foments storms, then pulls ships underneath the water and drowns the sailors.”

“I can see where that’s a problem for the sailors, but how is that a problem for you?”

“It’s not just sailors,” Laurel said, fingering her necklace. “Jenny has lived in the lakes since the dawn of history, but she has recently developed a voracious appetite for magic. We think that might be the result of phosphates. Or hormones. We’ve fought back, but none of us can stand against her. Many of us have died—not just nixies and kelpies, but grindylows and watersprites, snallygasters and selkies and hippocamps.”

“No offense,” Russell said. “But that sounds like a catalog of the world’s most obscure magical creatures. Creatures nobody but me will even miss.” Not that anybody would miss him, if he disappeared.

? 102 ?

? Cinda Williams Chima ?

Laurel snorted softly. “Most of the original creatures of faerie are already extinct. Those that call attention to themselves were the first to go. Elves and unicorns, griffins, centaurs, and dragons—humans loved them to death. We may be all but invisible, but that’s why we’ve survived.”

That’s how I survive, Russell thought. By being invisible. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t important..”

“I’m used to it,” Laurel said. “Magical creatures persist in those places in the world that are hard to get to. That are still relatively free of iron and pollution. There are pockets of dryads in the deep forests of South America, sea serpents and mermaids in the great oceans of the world. Once the Great Lakes were large enough to shelter us, too.

These days, not so much. Think about it—it’s the tiny magics, like hexes and charms and lutins, house elves and brownies and woods sprites that add color and texture to the world. That keep it from being all metal and glass and right angles. Can we really afford to have less magic in the world?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Russell began, “I guess I—”

“With every creature she destroys, Jenny grows larger and hungrier and more dangerous. Soon the lake will be completely barren of magical creatures. Except, of course, for her. Then, I believe, she will turn her attention to the land.”

“Can’t you gang up on her?” he asked. “Couldn’t all of you together take her down?”

“We have tried. Every time we’ve gone against her, we’ve suffered huge losses. I am the sole survivor of my squadron.”

How’d it happen, MacNeely? How is it that you’re the only survivor?

“What do you mean, your squadron?”

“There used to be scores of us, patrolling the Great Lakes from Superior to Ontario. Now there’s just me. You see, the only weapon that works against her is iron, and none of us can wield it.” She raked back her red mane of hair. “We need a champion.”

“We need a champion,” the nixies sang.

“A champion?” Russell frowned, perplexed.