“This feels very Edgar Allen Poe,” I stared over at the raven tap, tap, tapping on the windowpane.
“It's just a bird, Seren,” Tiernan sighed and went over to open the window.
The bird flew in and settled on the foot of the bed. Johnny gave another low whistle and the raven walked across the cornflower blue comforter and squawked at Johnny. It was an aggressive, strident sound but it didn't disturb the boy. Johnny just cocked his head and concentrated. His eyes went wide and he looked over to me and then to Tiernan.
“You're fairies?” Johnny asked and my mouth fell open.
“Did the raven tell you that?” Tiernan asked.
“Yes,” Johnny gave a serious nod.
“What the hell is he talking about?” Mark stood up.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” I held up my hands. “You were probably just told that magic exists and here we are, about to tell you that there's another race of people. But please know that we are here to protect you and your family. Does it really matter what we are?”
“Yes, it does,” Mark scowled at me. “Now, what the hell are you? And would you mind backing away from my son before you tell me?”
“Mark,” Shaman Chepaney stepped into the room and I breathed a sigh of relief. “I just found out about them too. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but I felt that it might be too much for you to accept.”
“You know that they're fairies?” Mark asked. “Fairies! Like Tinkerbell?! Are you all crazy?”
“More like Mab or Titania,” I offered and Mark shot me a horrified look.
“They are here to help,” Chepaney said calmly.
“Dad, they're the good guys,” Johnny laid his hand on his father's arm. “I know it. She's even wearing a crown,” he pointed to me and I found my mouth dropping open again.
“You can see that too?” I whispered, my hand automatically going to my temple, where I knew my aura held a “crown” given to me by the fairy creatures of Twilight.
“Yep,” Johnny nodded. “It's real pretty. The animals gave it to you.”
“Yes, they did,” I smiled in amazement.
Mark fell back into his chair and stared up at us before looking to his son. “You're certain, huh?”
“Yes,” Johnny said serenely.
“Well, I guess I should listen to the boy who can speak to animals,” Mark sighed.
“He can speak to animals?” Chepaney looked over to Johnny and then finally noticed the raven. “Oh. Hello, Mr. Raven.”
The bird blinked at the shaman and squawked.
“He said they're watching you,” Johnny offered.
“Who's watching us?” Chepaney stepped closer.
“The men pretending to be fairies who pretend to be birds,” Johnny laughed. “That's a lot of make believe.”
“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Barnett said as she entered the room holding two guns. “But I have some reality for them.” She handed her husband a shotgun and then pulled a box of shells out of her pocket. “I don't care who they're pretending to be, if they come after my family, the only thing they'll be is dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mrs. Barnett never fired a single shot. The witches didn't make it into the house at all and I will be eternally grateful for that. However, the battle outside the house was brutal, much more than I'd been expecting.
When you watch a fight scene in some movie, no matter how real it looks, it always has a feeling of flow. The moves are choreographed, the actors know what's coming, and even when things get really wild, you can always follow the action because the camera knows where to look. You know who the bad guys are and who are the good. But a real battle isn't like that at all; it's chaos. A blinding mess that leaves you floundering, hoping that your bullets are hitting the right targets.
And a magical battle is something else entirely.
