Page 24 of Heart of Mischief

8

Charlie had no godsdamned cluehow to find a wood wife. The first time, she and Elias had come across the creature by accident, and he’d given no advice on how to find her a second time. Still, school didn’t end for another two hours, and if Charlie came home early, her mom would have questions. She had time to search.

Before leaving the old house, she slipped into the bathroom and turned her shirt inside out, a trick that Elias taught her during that same afternoon walk. It was supposed to provide some modicum of protection from the spirits of the forest. It might be pure superstition, but Charlie wasn’t taking any chances. She also opened the dresser in the front hall and scooped up a handful of the gold coins Elias had left behind in his nightstand, replenishing the stock in her jacket pockets.

When that was done, she set off into the woods.

Because Charlie had no real destination in mind, she took her time strolling through the woods, eyeing every rock and plant she passed for signs that it might actually be the queen of the forest. She really did feel stronger there. Back in the house, she’d been ready to curl up and take a long nap, but the minute she stepped outside, the fresh air and brilliant fall colors had washed over her, seeping into her bloodstream like a shot of caffeine.

She needed to be careful. She knew that. There was yet another monster on the loose in Silver Shores.

But Odin’sunderpantsdid it feel good to be back among the trees.

As she wove through the forest, a layer of clouds descended, cooling the air and churning up the beginnings of a light fog. Mist hovered just off the ground, partially obscuring the bright green vines that wound up the tree trunks. It didn’t take long for Henry to fall asleep—his second favorite activity, after eating sweets. He snored softly on her shoulder, his red hat tickling her neck with every breath.

Sometime in the last week, flowers had blossomed along the vines that hugged the tree trunks. They were oddly shaped, their petals a rainbow of colors that echoed the fall leaves overhead: vibrant orange, golden brown, sunshine yellow, and the red of glistening blood. The colors glowed neon, as if lit from within. And every so often, that light pulsed, like the trees were trying to speak to her.

She had been walking for only twenty minutes or so when she spotted a light that didn’t belong.

It came from between the tightly clustered needles of a white pine. Flashes of hazy purple and winking white. She knew, even before pushing aside the pine branches, what she would find: älvor, the miniature fairies that gather every sunrise and sunset to perform their wild song and dance.

Normally, Charlie gave älvor a wide berth. Early on, Elias had warned her that fairy song worms its way into the human brain, enchanting the listener, causing them to lose track of time so thoroughly that, when they finally managed to pull themselves away, a hundred years might have slipped by. That afternoon, however, something about them called to her. Urged her forward, until she pushed past the pine branches and out into the clearing where the älvor were gathered, swirling around each other in a purple cloud that hovered six or seven feet off the ground.

Plus, sunset was still a long way off. She should be fine.

There were hundreds of tiny purple lights flitting around each other. Perhaps even thousands. Far more than the two or three usually found together outside of sunrise and sunset hours. Still, älvor were notorious gossips; likely, this gathering was their version of afternoon tea. An opportunity to exchange the news of the forest.

I don’t need to find the wood wife and risk one of her curses, Charlie realized.The älvor probably know just as much as she does.

She crept forward, keeping her footsteps as soft as possible on the crunching leaves. The fairies didn’t seem to notice or care about her presence at first, continuing to flit around each other, the buzz of their voices and the tinkle of their laughter barely louder than a summer breeze. When Charlie reached the large stump a few paces from their gathering, she slid quietly onto its smooth, mossy surface, the deck of cards in her back pocket digging into her tailbone. She crossed her legs and straightened her back, all while never looking away from the älvor.

Once she was seated, it didn’t take long for the fairies to come investigate, two of the purple lights detaching themselves from the swarm and drifting in her direction.

Charlie stayed very still as they approached, fearful that any sudden movements would scare them away. She kept her hands at her sides, her back needle straight. The älvor flew slowly, curiously, like pigeons who thought there might be breadcrumbs at her feet. They swooped low, coming to land on the rim of the stump, just in front of her crossed legs. Purple light shimmered around their bodies like glittering clouds, too bright for her to make out any detail about their figures.

“Hello,” she said after a pause.

The fairies said nothing.

Immediately, Charlie felt like an idiot. Why had she assumed they would speak English? Why had she assumed they’d speakanylanguage? Just because ash wives and will-o’-the-wisps spoke in human tongues, that meantallcreatures of Asgard did, too? Howfoolish. They were completely different species. Elias had said that they sing and gossip, but he never said if they used human words to do so.

She opened her mouth to apologize (an equally ridiculous gesture if they couldn’t understand her in the first place), but before she could, the purple light around the älvor vanished. Just winked out, as if they had switches attached to their bodies.

Which is how Charlie got her first real look at a pair of fairies.

A part of her had expected to find two Tinker Bells standing on the stump. Miniature women with blond hair, pale skin, and delicate, cotton-ball-decorated feet. And while the tiny creaturesdidappear to be female, that was where the similarities to Tinker Bell ended.

One of the älvor had brown skin, the other palest lavender. Springy dark twists of hair fell over the eyes of the brown-skinned fairy, while the purple-skinned one had deep eggplant locks that fell all the way to her waist. They wore gowns that looked to be made of leaves, twigs, and spiderwebs. Their eyes were far too big for their tiny faces, and their ears came up to pointed tips. They were adorable.

By now, Charlie knew enough about Asgard to never trust anything adorable.

“Hello,” said the lavender-skinned fairy.

Down on her shoulder, Henry stirred. He gave a soft yawn, sitting up slowly.

“Oh.” Charlie blinked. “You do speak English.”

The älvor rolled their eyes at each other.