Mia fluttered through the tower window, her fairy wings leaving a trail of sparkling lights as she circled the room. A spinning wheel stood in the center, surrounded by dirt and straw. Shaking her head, she snapped her fingers. In a flash of light, she became the size of a human.
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Rank upon rank, we stand ready.
Faces set and stern, wings unfurled, eyes locked forward, swords at our sides—though they will dance like flames in our hands at the first sign of trouble. We have seen battle, terrible and costly, against ruthless enemies. We will leap into combat again, if threatened, if met with resistance.
But that is not our mission.
The call from steel magnate Charles Weldon interrupted my plans to spend a pea-souper of a morning with two fingers of Jack Daniels and a newspaper. But I knew I wouldn’t regret it when I stepped into the tycoon’s home office. Whatever made one of the richest men in California this jumpy was bound to pay well.
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I shut to door to the conference room behind us. “Sir, please calm down.”
“I’ll calm down when I get some answers.” Mr. Buxton rounded on me. “My boy went missing for more than twenty-four hours and no one can tell me where he was or what happened to him.”
If Brandy heard one more person tell her what a good wife she would be, she was going to drown a sailor.
She heaved a deep breath as she twisted her silver locket around her fingers and walked down the dark cobblestone streets. It was a paltry trinket, certainly not a token of love, though it had been given to her by the man she loved.
I was nearly done raking the lawn when someone plump, perky, and purple-clad appeared in a gust right there, scattering leaves.
“Who are you?” I wielded the rake.
She shook a leaf from her skirts. “Your fairy godmother, dear.”
“Fairy godmother—? But I didn’t know fairies were real.”
“That explains your rude surprise.
The book was lost. Of that, I had no doubt.
The problem was that it couldn’t remain lost. My life, as I knew it, as I longed for it to be, would not continue without the words my mother had left me.
Borgig strolled along the empty beach, his shaggy curls shading him from the sun, when a bomb exploded under his feet.
Under one of his feet, to be exact.
“Aaaagggh!”
Sand sprayed as he hopped backwards. Although the bomb couldn’t have been larger than a peanut, pain shot through his foot as if it had caught fire. He would have blisters by morning, no doubt.
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