Flicker by Thornbrugh Kaye

Author:Thornbrugh, Kaye [Thornbrugh, Kaye]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-02-25T06:00:00+00:00

* * *

The street was bright with faeries, and the air tangy with music. Magic flowed down from the moon, coating everything with pearly light, and Byrony breathed it in. The magic in the air helped mask the stink of iron and decay.

A rowdy group of hobgoblins glamoured to look like human children scampered past, jostling her. She’d seen many faeries like them, playing at being humans for a night of wicked fun, and for once, Byrony didn’t blame them. This was a holiday, after all, a celebration.

Each time she passed a storefront, she was surprised by her reflection—for once, undisguised by glamour as she walked among humans. It had been so long since she wore her autumn colors that the sight of them was almost alien. Her new pale skin looked vulnerable, lifeless. Whole patches of her hair were missing, with orange and red stubble already growing in across her scalp. Even her wings were turning from their usual green to a dark, rich red that would fade to brown as winter approached. She would have to fashion new clothes for herself, as well; her dress of summer leaves wouldn’t last long in these temperatures.

She turned a corner, reading the sign hanging above the shop’s door: Sandpiper. Perhaps she’d have some luck here.

It was a quaint shop, all warm wood and low lamplight. The place looked comfortable, lived-in. The air was heavy with the scents of herbs. As she passed through the shop, Byrony could feel the plants all around her, both the dried bundles and the potted ferns and flowers that shifted toward her, hungering for her life-giving energy.

A female elf with brown skin and dark hair appeared at the counter. She was dressed simply, in a sleeveless green top and brown skirt. Loops of bead-threaded twine dangled from her wrists and neck.

“We were just about to lock up for the night,” said the elf. She eyed Byrony almost suspiciously, no doubt because of her disheveled appearance. “Conall likes to go out on Samhain.”

“Before you do, would it be possible to speak with the owner?”

“Certainly,” said the elf, starting toward a door behind the counter. “Just a moment. I’ll get him.”

A minute later, the elf returned with a tall, broad-shouldered man—Conall, she presumed. He had wise, dark eyes. Short, curved horns jutted from his temples. His magical energy exuded into the air around him.

Byrony almost drew back from him as he approached. She had only ever met a few of his kind—ages ago, when solitaries regularly passed through her forest—and they had been beautiful and terrible indeed.

Conall was one of the Tuatha de Danann, those ancient ancestors of the Daoine Sidhe who were driven underground and into the sea. There was no mistaking it. Some of his people still roamed the human world, but she had never expected to encounter one in this city, much less in a tiny apothecary.

“If you require a potion,” Conall said, “I hope it’s something we have already made, because I’m not brewing anything more tonight.

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