“Be honest. Do you have superpowers or something?” Pearl Jean hit a bump, the lid popping off her squeeze bottle, sweet tea splashing over the rim and overflowing from its holder. “You can tell me. And you don’t have to worry. I’m sure I’ll probably learn to accept your freakishness in the future. After all, home is where heart is, and heart is where Cookie is.”
Her throat tightened. Dang this woman. “Did you just speak Cookie Monster to me?” Winning another little piece of my heart.
Pearl Jean humphed. “Maybe.”
“Fine. You want to talk, we’ll talk.” After throwing another suspicious glance over her shoulder, she picked up Suggy. “But only when we’re in the house.”
“No. No more waiting.” Pearl Jean drove the scooter in front of Cookie, stopping her. “We’re not leaving this spot until you explain what’s happening.”
Was there anyone more stubborn?
She looked over her shoulder. Left. Right. The unease amplified. “One way or another, we’re going inside. Move it or lose it.”
Her urgency proved as contagious as an imaginary disease. For once, Pearl Jean didn’t argue. “Yes. Let’s go inside.”
In unison, they hustled toward the house. Halfway there, the butterfly people reappeared, zooming past Cookie, then backtracking to fly circles around her. When she drew up short, the two stopped with her, hovering nearby. Watching her.
She noted other details. Human faces, around twenty years old...human bodies the size of her index finger. Both beings were clad in clover leaves. The female had shoulder-length blue hair and white wings, while the male had white hair and blue wings.
“Please tell me you’re seeing this,” she croaked.
“Seeing what?” The scooter beeped as Pearl Jean backtracked, returning to her side. Worry clouded her expression. “Cookie! Seeing what?” she insisted.
“I don’t know. Yet. But I’m ready to find out.” Trembling, she passed Suggy to her friend, then reached out. The butterfly people didn’t mist upon contact this time, but they didn’t appreciate her action, either. They hissed at her, revealing sharp white fangs.
Danger! Her fingers heated in an instant. The sizzle started in her bones and radiated through her pores.
She jerked backward and snapped, “Take Sugars in the house, Pearl Jean.” She’d never used such a harsh tone with her friend, but she meant business.
“You can’t—”
“Go. Now.” The heat spread over her palms, and she groaned. She shook her hands, surprised when literal flames failed to ignite. Wait. What was that?
Her jaw slacked as green leaves budded from her fingers. Coffee spilled as the wineglass slipped from her grip. Horror and confusion bombarded her. Vines uncoiled, extending past her nails. Growing. Twining together and slithering over the ground.
“Only a hallucination, only a hallucination,” she chanted.
“Then why am I seeing it, too?” Pearl Jean screeched. “Can’t rationalize this...”
Up ahead, the vines sprouted up, up, as if reaching for the sky. At the seven-foot mark, the ends grew together, forming a thorny arch still connected to her hands. As thick fog filled the space between the stalks, an incredible force wrenched her forward. She stumbled and tried to dig in her heels, then fought to disconnect from the vines. She failed on both counts.
The vines only pulled faster. Soon she was choking on fear and being dragged across the lawn.
“Help us! Someone help us,” Pearl Jean shouted behind her. “Cookie!”
“Pearl Jean!” No! Her heart thudded as she flew through the fog.
CHAPTER FIVE
DAZED, PANTING, COOKIE jumped to her feet. She surveyed her surroundings. What the—how—what? Can’t process... Her sunlit backyard was gone. In its place was...something else. And it wasn’t her imagination. This was all too real.
She spun, her heart thudding faster, gaze darting. Pink-and-white trees abounded. Rainbow flowers appeared as fluffy as cotton candy, releasing ethereal petals into a warm breeze. More butterfly people flew about, raining glitter. At her right, a babbling brook rushed over glowing crystals. On the other side of the water, shadows slipped over gnarled trees and brittle grass. Jagged leaves snapped together, as if chewing on something. Maybe they were. Bloodred crumbs/drops fell from the corners.
Cookie gulped as she focused on something moving at her feet... Screaming, she hopped around to avoid hundreds of tiny spiders charging out from beneath her house boots.
The butterfly people—fairies?—remained at eye level, zigging and zagging around her.
As soon as she quieted, she picked up the buzz of their wings and the squeak of their voices.
“She’s her, yes?”
“Oh, yes. And no.”
“Her but not her.”
This couldn’t be right. None of this could be right. It was time to go home.