CHAPTERONE
“Here we go,”I told myself as I approached the Indigo Crescent.My bookstore was decked out in Samhain decorations—though over here, Earthside, the majority of people called it Halloween.Delilah and I had spent most of the evening before carving pumpkins for my store window, and a couple for her office upstairs.
My heels clattered on the sidewalk as I darted through the rain to unlock the door, but Iris beat me to it.She had already arrived, and now she opened the door and held it for me while I slid inside.
“It’s pouring,” I said.“I have the pumpkins in the car.”
“I’ll help you get them,” the talon-haltija said.A Finnish house-sprite, Iris Kuusi was as pretty as she was magical.Her golden-blond hair coiled down to her ankles and her eyes were glacier blue.She looked to be in her early thirties, though I knew she was far older than that, at least in human years.Sorting out the various ages of the humans and shifters and other Supes that lived over Earthside was a chore in itself, especially since most of us aged far slower in looks and health than humans.
As we headed out to my steel-gray Lexus, I suddenly stopped.The Seattle streets were wet, filled with people hustling toward their destinations.Nobody here used umbrellas—it made no sense with as much wind as the city got.People had toughened up to the constant gloom and drizzle, and the bleakness only added to the city’s beauty.And here I was, part of the hustle-culture, the heartbeat of the land resonating beneath the heartbeat of the city.
Iris and I wrestled the pumpkins into the shop and, after toweling the rain off my hair and face, I lined them up in the expansive window that overlooked the street.A seating area by the window allowed my customers to sit and read.In fact, I had an appointment to talk to the president of the local Faerie Watchers Club this afternoon.They wanted to ask me something, and I wasn’t sure what it was, but the woman who had called to set up the meeting—Erin Mathews—had sounded sincere.
I’d been running the store for the past six months since we first arrived from Y’Elestrial, and I’d grown to love the rhythm of my days.As I swung around the counter and took my seat on one of the high bar stools, Iris handed me the mail.
“Anything good?”I asked, flipping through the envelopes.
“Beyond bills?”she said.“Not really.”
I stopped as I came to a plain sealed envelope.It had my name on it, rather than that of the store’s, and no return address.I picked up the letter opener and slit open the top.As I pulled out the single page and opened it, my blood began to boil.
“What the fuck?”I asked as I stared at the words scrawled across the paper.
“What is it?”Iris asked.“I didn’t open it because it was personally addressed to you.”
Wordlessly, I held out the page for her to look at.
Across the blank paper, someone had scribbledgo back where you came from, faerie whore!!!
Iris stared at the message for a moment, then sighed.“I’m sorry?—”
“Why?Youdidn’t write it,” I said.“If that’s the best they can do, they’re falling woefully short.Idiots,” I added, setting the paper aside.“I’ll give it to Chase.He wants us to keep everything like this in case there’s ever any trouble.That way, they might be able to tie these threats to it.”
I folded the paper and stuck it back in the envelope, setting it aside to give to the detective the next time I saw him.
“I’m still sorry.People can be such jackasses,” she said.
“It’s that way over in Otherworld, too.Though people are more open about it.There’s less hiding behind anonymity.”I set the envelope aside, rolling my eyes.“Back home, we were constantly called Windwalkers, right to our face.”
“What’s that mean?”Iris asked.
“It means…it’s used for half-breeds.Over there, being half-Fae, or half-Elf—especially—brings with it a stigma that absolutely prevents you from rising in either society.Though the disgrace is less so among the Fae.But there are always assholes in every corner.Anyway, we got used to it when we were children.Technically, the termWindwalkerusually means that you don’t have a home.That you have no roots.Nomads aren’t exactly welcome in most places.Okay, let’s see what else the mail brought.”
I tried to shake it off.There wasn’t much we could do against the trolls, so why feed them?I had better places to focus my energy.I handed Iris the bills.“Can you put these on my desk in the back?And while you’re back there, can you check what time my appointment with Erin’s supposed to be?”
“Will do,” Iris said, giving me a glance over her shoulder as she headed towards the back.
I finished examining the ledgers.I’d learned early on to pay attention to the books, even if they were only for the household.
The Indigo Crescent did better than a lot of small shops, though it wasn’t a breakout success.Then again, I didn’t want it to be.The more we stayed below the radar, the better.A glance at the clock told me it was almost ten—time to open the shop.As I flipped the sign fromclosedtoopenand unlocked the door, Iris returned.
“Erin’s due around one-thirty,” she said.“I did a little research on her.She’s a good sort, and I think you can trust her.At least, as far as you can trust most humans.”
“She’s an odd duck, that’s for sure,” I said.“For someone who owns a lingerie boutique called the Scarlet Harlot, she dresses like a lumberjack.Or rather, she dresses like Delilah,” I added, laughing.
My sister Delilah had always been what our mother called a tomboy.And even though my father had harangued me about getting her to wear dresses, during his absences I’d let her run around in whatever she pleased.
“Erin’s a conundrum.When we first met, I thought she and Henry Jeffries might make a good pair, but I found out she’s gay.”Iris scrambled up on the tall box that allowed her to see over the counter.It also allowed her to access the bar stools without struggling to climb their rungs.