Matchbox Girls (38 page)

Branwyn's mouth curved in an slow, pleased smile. The faerie Duke she’d met had first manifested as a doll-like pixie. He’d not only been interested in humanity, he’d been interested in
her
. He'd even sent her a sweet letter after it was all over, written in dusk blue ink on handmade paper that smelled of the ocean, and delivered by magic. After reading it, she'd felt quite charitable toward him, even inclined to forgive the fact that he'd abducted her. He'd apologized for that, after all, and he'd been acting under—and fighting against—a magical coercion. But despite his assurance that she would have a chance to see him again if she wished, there was no followup.

It was disappointing, because she'd been very much looking forward to letting him make it up to her. As week after week had slid by, the tendency toward forgiveness had faded. But not the curiosity.

Maybe she’d been looking in the wrong places. Or perhaps he’d gotten her address wrong.

That seemed more likely.

She thought about the vague promises the faerie had given her of “making it up to her,” and she thought about Penny in the hospital bed, providing experimental data for Senyaza. Senyaza hadn't had to deal with faeries in a very long time, Marley had said. Maybe they knew something the wizard corporation didn't.

She imagined a circle, a triangle, and a square merging, and as they slid together, the second sight she’d been reluctantly granted flickered to life. Lines of colored light sprang across the room, varying in thickness and intensity. According to Corbin, who had given her the ability in the first place, the lines were part of something called the Geometry and manipulating them was the primary focus of modern-day wizards. An expert could identify where various lines came from and what they meant. But they told her little. Cords of light traced the edges of the room and clustered thickly over the storage boxes. A loose knot formed over the main door she’d entered through, and another one tangled in the frame of the miniature door. If there was magic there, she couldn’t pick it out from the rest of the room, or any other room she’d looked at. It wasn’t enough.

It was pretty, though. She reached out to run her fingers along the knot of the little door. The crimson and citrine glows brightened. Thoughtfully, she crawled back to the outer room and closed the door behind her. Then, without a hint of self-consciousness, she knocked.

The lines of the Geometry rippled in response and the door cracked open.

Acknowledgments: 

Without whom this book would not exist:

  Kevin, who put up with everything

  Raymond, who supported me no matter what

  Neil, who gave me demons

  Angie and Gayle, who inspired twins (among other things)

I hope you like what I've done

Everybody else: thank you.

About the Author:

Chrysoula Tzavelas went to twelve schools in twelve years while growing up as an Air Force brat, and she never met a library she didn’t like. She now lives near Seattle with some random adults, miscellaneous animals, and a handy small child. She likes combed wool, bread dough, and gardens. She’s also a certified technology addict; it says so on her (trademark-redacted) music player.

Follow the Author:

www.dreamfarmer.net

Twitter
: @chrysoula