Chapter 8
Charlie had no godsdamned clue how 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’s underpants did 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: ?lvor, the miniature fairies that gather every sunrise and sunset to perform their wild song and dance.
Normally, Charlie gave ?lvor 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 ?lvor 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, ?lvor 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 ?lvor 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 ?lvor.
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 ?lvor 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 speak any language?
Just because ash wives and will-o’-the-wisps spoke in human tongues, that meant all creatures of Asgard did, too?
How foolish. 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 ?lvor 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 creatures did appear to be female, that was where the similarities to Tinker Bell ended.
One of the ?lvor 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 ?lvor rolled their eyes at each other.
“Of course we speak English, human,” said the fairy with the twists in her hair. “We’ve lived in this realm far longer than you have.” She gestured to the purple-skinned fairy. “Fjólu here speaks over thirty-five dialects of the human tongue. I speak even more.”
Fjólu made a noise of annoyance. “Only because you’ve been alive two centuries longer than I have, Mysa.”
“Of course, darling,” said Mysa, patting Fjólu on the shoulder. “You’ll reach the basic fifty before you know it.”
By the gods, thought Charlie, watching the cattiness flow between the fairies. They’re just like high school girls. Only tiny. And hundreds of years old.
Henry squeaked, bringing Charlie’s attention down to him. He looked up at her quizzically.
“What?” Charlie asked. “You know I can’t understand your question, buddy.”
“Oh my,” said Mysa’s tinkling voice. “You cannot communicate with your v?tte yet?”
Charlie narrowed her eyes at the fairy. “What’s that supposed to mean? Henry can’t talk, but we do our best.”
Mysa tutted, exchanging a look with Fjólu that clearly read, classic idiotic human. She looked back at Charlie, laying a hand on her hip. “When a v?tte and human become tethered, they gain the ability to communicate telepathically.”
“We…” Charlie’s eyes bulged. “What?” She looked down at Henry. “Is that true?”
He nodded eagerly.
“Well, why haven’t you said anything to me yet, then?” she asked.
“It is not a one-way street, Charlotte Hudson,” said Fjólu. “You must first open yourself up to his messages.”
Charlie looked at Fjólu sharply. “You know who I am?”
“Of course we do, sweetheart,” said Mysa. “Creatures of the forest talk.”
And ?lvor talk the most of all, Charlie didn’t add. “Right,” she said. “Well. Before we talk any further, can I get your guarantee that you won’t sing? I like being in the forest, but I don’t want to accidentally spend my entire life sitting on this stump.”
“Our song would not affect you,” said Fjólu.
“It wouldn’t?” Charlie wrinkled her brow. “Why not?”
Mysa and Fjólu exchanged wry smiles.
“I don’t know…” said Mysa. “The ?lvor’s network of information is coveted by all, but we don’t offer answers to just anyone.” She lifted a tiny eyebrow. “How much are you willing to pay for the truth?”
Charlie dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out two gold coins. She set them on the stump a few inches from the fairies. “Would this be enough?”
The ?lvor stared down at the coins, then looked up at Charlie.
“These coins are as big as we are,” said Fjólu. “Do you really think that they would be of use to us?”
“Oh.” Charlie blinked. She’d never known an Asgardian creature to turn down gold before. “Right. Sorry. Well…” She glanced helplessly around the clearing. “What can I offer you as payment?”
“Information always works,” Mysa said. “So long as we deem it worthy.”