Chapter 16 #2
Tink yelped, jumping back and nearly bumping into the shopkeep as she struggled to locate the source of the voice.
Her heart thundered in her chest when she caught sight of a short woman standing among the plants.
Silky locks, dark as midnight and streaked with silver like rare falling stars, flowed down her body, nearly concealing a dress of dark green.
But it wasn’t the sight of her—how had she missed her before?
—that caused a reply to catch in her throat.
A brown snake, longer than the woman was tall, twined around her arms and over her shoulders.
“Have a seat, my dear.” She gestured to a simple wooden chair facing the table in front of her. “That’ll be all.” With a wave, she dismissed Executus. Only a light flutter of fabric signaled his departure.
Everything in her rebelled against taking that seat.
Nope. No. This was a huge mistake. That snake would eat her alive inch by precious inch, and no one would ever find her.
Hook would assume she’d run away to retrieve the scale on her own despite their promise to the queen.
He’d follow, determined to break his curse, only to run aground in the Shrouded Isles, Captain Blackbeard’s cannons hammering the hull, and—
Tink shook herself. Why was she worried about him? Shouldn’t she worry about herself? Her parents, who likely mourned her as dead? Lily, who would never know what happened to her missing cousin and how much she cared?
“You’re an interesting one.” The voice wrapped around her, echoing through her mind.
She twisted toward its source.
The witch grinned at her as she stroked the snake’s head with motherly affection. “Take a seat. Or aren’t you curious why I asked you here?”
“Why did you?”
“It’s not often I find another of my own kind.”
Tink gaped. “You’re a—” Her mouth opened and closed, the word lost.
“A pixie. Yes.” She rolled her shoulders, and dull wings previously hidden fluttered behind her. They were sad, dim things, like dusty spiderwebs. “I know,” she said with a frown. “Not what they once were. But you…I’d wager yours are still quite bright.”
“How do you know that?” She crept to the chair, lured by the witch’s knowledge.
“Time teaches many things.” The witch took a seat on her side of the table—too close, with the snake flicking his tongue in the air between them. “Sit.”
Tink swallowed and sat, her palms clutching the wood for dear life. “The sneezing fit.”
The witch grinned. “Very good. Yes, the dried draka kelp confirmed my suspicions after I saw you enter the shop with—well, I wouldn’t say your friends. No, my dear, you seemed rather uncomfortable, am I right?”
That was the shop’s fault. Mostly. Maybe. “Why did you ask me here?”
The witch sighed, a slight pout to her lips. She was a beauty, one who carried her curves with style and elegance. Not even the telltale marks of age that touched her skin and hair could diminish that. “So eager to leave. I thought it might be nice to have some company. Why linger with pirates?”
“I…” Tink lifted her arm, letting the broken bracelet slide down to her hand. “If I help them, there may be a way for me to get home.”
“The elders are still close-minded, I see.” She rubbed her snake, right over where her own bracelet may once have been.
“I could use the help of a fellow pixie. My wings grow weak, and I won’t be able to make pixie dust much longer.
It’s essential for my spells, you see. But you, with the touch of the Sylvanna Vale still upon you, could help me with that.
Surely the rumored Tinker Bell would sell her dust to a fellow pixie. ”
Tink’s brows drew together. Dust for magic. How? A touch of home—? “Wait, how do you know my name?” She’d given Executus her name, but only Tink, not her full name.
The witch laughed, a scratchy, high sound. “You’ve earned quite the reputation recently, selling dust. So rebellious, industrious, and yet you want to go back to the vale?”
The chair might as well have fallen out from under her.
She had a reputation? How? Sure, she’d sold dust, but almost all of that was to Captain Blackbeard to free Lily.
The rest she’d sold in little batches, mainly to innkeepers for coin to stay afloat and buy passage to see Titania.
It shouldn’t have been enough to earn a reputation.
Unless the innkeepers were looser with their words than she thought.
Ridiculous humans. Can’t trust any of them.
Even so… “I’m sorry. I can’t sell you any. I’m out of dust.”
The witch’s head tilted, her nose wrinkling in an all too familiar motion. “Poor girl, they taught you nothing before they sent you out into this world, did they?”
Fire raced along her cheeks and up to the tips of her ears. They had told her little—far, far too little. She stirred in the seat.
“You can make more dust, my dear. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t.” She leaned over the table, her snake flicking its tongue at Tink, way too close for comfort. “Especially with those two delicious men you were with, even though they are pirates… Or maybe you prefer women?”
“I…” Beryl’s wings, she needed out of there. Fast.
The witch fell back in the chair laughing. “Oh, my girl. All you need are happy thoughts, pleasure, enjoyment. Let the world fade away and enjoy yourself.”
Enjoy herself. Right. Like anyone could do that trapped far from home, trying to make it on their own with nothing, then getting abducted by a pirate. She had so much to be happy about.
“Once your wings start to glow, the dust is sure to follow.”
Your wings are glowing, love. Tink sat up straight in the chair as Hook’s words echoed through her mind.
She had glowed. For him. More than once.
“Ah, I see you have some experience in the matter.”
“But I didn’t…” Tink’s wings strained against their bindings. “I still have no dust.”
“How long did the glow last?”
“A moment? Not long.”
“Not long enough for the dust to form.”
She could make pixie dust. No wonder the elders didn’t tell them.
If a pixie enjoyed the pleasures of the human world, they could make plenty of dust, use it for themselves, sell it.
What havoc that could wreak if humans had more access to dust. A sudden chill stripped the heat from her body.
What if the rules weren’t to protect them from humans, but humans from pixies?
The witch’s serpentine smile answered that question better than anyone could.
“Opens up a world of possibilities, doesn’t it?
” The snake slithered up her arm. “I could train you. Teach you things the elders would never believe possible. Why go back to that sheltered life when you could have the world at your fingertips?”
“I’ll…I’ll think on it.” It was a certainty, though maybe not in the way the witch hoped.
“Do.” She rose. “Executus!”
The shrill call set Tink’s teeth on edge.
Time passed slower than molasses before the shopkeep slipped through the curtains and bowed at the waist.
“See our guest out,” the witch ordered. “And dear, I do hope to see you tomorrow. Try to enjoy all that Rochland has to offer.” The meaning behind her words was clear. She wanted her dust, immediately.
Tink forced a fake smile to her lips. That was easier said than done. If she could make any dust, it wouldn’t be for the witch.