Warrior Fae Princess (Warrior Fae 2)

The fresh air greeted her, laden with the smell and feel of nature, which seemed to bolster the currents of her magic. Another “bungalow” was opposite hers, and more down a small lane that would comfortably fit two bicycles. If they had any.

“My nemesis has a gift unlike any other, save myself,” the woman said, affecting a sort of hobble as they turned right. She waved one of her arms over her head like an ape. “She is my polar opposite, and she will absolutely detest me. She will try to get rid of me at every turn, claiming Reagan has no use for me, since Reagan already has her.”

Charity’s blood ran cold. From what the others had said, Reagan spent hardly any time at all in the Realm, and she certainly hadn’t been to the Flush. How did this woman know her?

Before Charity could ask, the woman was already rambling on.

“The joke will be on my nemesis when she realizes she needs me. She and I will be two halves of the whole. Two key pieces of a larger puzzle. Soon, we will learn to unpeaceably coexist. She doesn’t yet know any of this. I can’t wait to see her face when she finally sees it.”

“That sounds… How did you say you knew Reagan?”

The woman held up a finger with a broken nail. Her knuckle had nail polish on it. “I do not need silly snowy balls and flashing symbols on picture cards, whatever they are. I merely need my concentration. And maybe a tea with mind alterants.”

“Ah. Hmm.” Charity was back to nodding as they turned toward a hedge with a small hole in the middle.

“Come on. We can slip past the jailers this way.” The woman straightened up, walked normally for two steps, and then wove her way into the hedge, somehow managing not to snag herself.

“You’re not leading me to slaughter or something, right?” Charity asked, jolting as a stick jabbed her. “You’re not…taking me to the elves, or vampires, or anything?”

The woman cackled. “Yes, of course.”

“Of course you aren’t, or of course you are—”

“But not until your quest vision flip-flops a few times. No, that’s not normal. Unheard of, actually. That’s why it is so fun to be alive right now. I’d tell you not to tell anyone about that, but I’ll be there when it does, and walk you through everything. Then your future will call, I’ll finally meet my nemesis, and Reagan will no longer be able to hide.”

“Umm…right.” There had been too much to unpack in all of that, so Charity went with the largest issue at hand. “About Reagan. How do you know her?”

“My, my. You are very dense.” The woman paused at the other side of the hedge. She hurried through the open space between two fences and the monstrous houses beyond, before half diving into another row of bushes.

“What the bloody hell am I doing?” Charity murmured to herself, peering out through the leaves to see if the coast was clear. Someone sauntered down the lane, singing to herself with a lovely voice. She’d soar to the top of one of those singing game shows in the Brink. Although what was the point of money and fame in the Brink when she could live here, in peace and beauty? She would have no need for money in the Flush. No need to make things better. Things were already perfect.

Charity ran across the opening and ducked into the bushes.

The madwoman smiled and turned to again lead the way. “I have Seen the woman called Reagan. I have Seen her father. Most importantly, I have Seen where they meet, and how.” She ticked her finger back and forth. “But I won’t give you details. I am the only one in all the worlds—up, down, side and side—who knows. That knowledge will eventually have a purpose…” She fisted her hand. “I can feel it.”

Ah. So she really had no idea. Fabulous.

They emerged from the bushes in an entirely different part of town, with smaller houses and mediocre gardens. Charity looked back at the bushes. “Are those magical in some way?”

“You are in the Realm, love. Everything is magical in some way. Just up here.” She switched back to her strange hobble, this time with both arms waving above her like an orangutan.

“I’m going to get in trouble for going with you, aren’t I?” Charity asked.

“You might get a lecture about your well-being from the new, proud, though inexperienced, papa. I am going to get in trouble.” She looked down at Charity’s legs as they made their way to a break in the cobblestone path up ahead. “How do you feel?”

Charity stretched, then grinned. “Despite being laid up in a bed for the last week and a half, I feel excellent. Better than good. I feel…”