business email.
There’s also the premium that needs to be taken care of on my life insurance. Thankfully, I saw to my will some time ago when my sister first moved in with me because I wanted to make sure she would be taken care of in case anything happened. Like my life insurance, Tonya is my sole beneficiary to my will. Right now, I’m glad I had the foresight to do that because there’s no telling what can happen in the fae world. If I don’t come back, she will have my condo and all of my personal belongings, the payment from my insurance, and everything in my bank account. She’ll be all right.
The whistle of the kettle draws me out of my thoughts, and I turn back toward the stove and lift it off the burner. Setting it down on a cool burner, I pull out my favorite mug and scoop out three generous spoonfuls of mix. It’s not as good as melting chocolate on the stove with milk and sugar, but it will get the job done for a quick fix.
Smiling to myself at how Mama, who refused any kind of cocoa that wasn’t properly made, would sneer at the very sight of the tin can of powdery goodness, I pick up the kettle again and angle it over my cup.
Just as the water hits the cup, something between a rustle and a rattle sounds behind me. Adjusting the angle of the kettle to cut off the water, I freeze, my heart thundering in my ears. I hold my breath, my ears straining to hear even as I send up a small prayer that it doesn’t repeat—that it was just all in my head. Must have been my imagination.
I have never hated being so wrong in my life.
Not only does the sound repeat, but it’s louder—so much closer—and is layered. My breath puffs out of me in a panicked pant, an icy tremor running down my back.
Whatever that is… there’s more than one.
Swallowing thickly, I slowly move the kettle back onto the stove and set it down. I don’t know why I’m doing it slowly—perhaps a part of me is desperately hoping that it’s just an animal and that refraining from sudden movements might save my ass.
The cold laughter that sounds from behind me disabuses me of that notion.
Straightening, I turn, my hand still clenched on my mug, and come face to face with my intruders.
Three of what I can only guess to be some sort of fairies, due to their large butterfly wings and elvish features, stare right back at me. Unlike most other fae I’ve seen, these three—two males and a female, from the look of it—are about my size. Their features are narrow and sharp, from the shape of their noses to their high cheekbones, cut jawlines, and pointed chins. Even their bodies are thin and angular. I probably outweigh them, but I suspect they’re deceptively stronger than they appear. Their wings, flat against their bodies and pointed toward the ground in an at-rest position, flutter in little, short snaps in a manner that’s just as aggressive as the hostile gleam in their bright blue and green eyes. They look like half-starved predators, all lean and hungry.
Don’t show any fear, I remind myself as I force my body to relax and prop against the countertop behind me.
“Is there something I can do for you?” I inquire pleasantly. I lift my cup and cock an eyebrow at them. “Would you like some hot cocoa?”
One of the males gives my cup a curious glance but the female beside him slaps his arm and gives him a disgusted look before leveling me with a vicious glare.
There’s nothing soft and cute about her. Her dark red lips are turned down in an angry scowl, and her upper lip curls in a sneer at my cup. Her green eyes are a bright neon acidic color that might as well say ‘warning, toxic as fuck,’ brightened more by the purple smeared around her eyes. I would say that in some ways she could almost pass for some standard of goth… perhaps industrial, with all the heavy copper and silver bands she wears on her getup. Not an inch of iron or steel anywhere on her, though her strategically ripped top, long leather jacket, chunky boots, and oversized black pants are studded with more of the same metal bits.
Honestly, I’m rather impressed with how some of the fae are adapting to human