grabbed a hank of my hair, yanking me in the direction of the house.
I flapped my hands over my head without effect and took a step backward. The bug let go and flew off.
I blinked. My mind refused to put together what I had observed, and I glanced at the mushroom. It was not alone. A row of fungi grew across my lawn and stretched around the corner of the house. I padded on bare feet, following the curved line. I tracked it until I circled my way back to the front walkway. No, no, no. I am not seeing what I’m seeing.
I darted my eyes left and right, then took an experimental step across the mushrooms.
Three creatures bombed me, scolding in indecipherable, high-pitched voices. They yanked at my sleeve, my hair, and one made a grab for my lower lip. No, definitely not dragonflies, I thought. I’m on lockdown by fairies.
Waving my arms to shoo them away, I pivoted and stomped up the steps, slamming the door both open and closed. I stood in the living room seething.
Maurice popped his head out of the kitchen. “Zoey! Good morning! Perfect timing. Sit-sit-sit! Breakfast is almost ready. Come have coffee.”
It was difficult to maintain a high level of outrage in the face of such overwhelming cheer. But I tried. I stalked into the kitchen and threw myself in my chair, hoping to have achieved at least a small show of defiance and ire.
“I’m on house arrest. I can’t even get my paper.”
Maurice looked unconcerned. “Paper’s right there, Zo.” He slid a cup of coffee under my nose and pulled the folded newspaper toward me.
“ Fairies are in my front yard!”
He ignored me. I took a sip of coffee and wondered why everyone always gave me something to drink when I was upset. “Fairy rings, closet monsters, incubi. I quit going to my shrink too soon.”
Maurice snorted and kept working at the stove. So he was listening to me; he refused to answer.
I sulked and stared out the window. Mushrooms jiggled on their thick stalks, taunting me. Maurice put a plate of food in front of me, and the smell of something incredible blew into my face. I took a bite and tried not to show my pleasure.
“I’m not going to stay locked up here,” I said with my mouth full. “You can’t—oh my God, did you make these croissants from scratch?” I closed my eyes, savoring the buttery flakes dissolving in my mouth before I swallowed. I opened them again and glared. “I’m not hiding in here, so you can forget it.”
Maurice grinned in the way good cooks do when someone enjoys their food.
“It’s not forever, Zoey. Give it a little while for the ring to set. Then you can come and go as you please.”
“How long?”
He shrugged. “A couple hours. The mushrooms will disappear. If you leave now, the ring won’t know you belong. Trust me. It’s a good alarm system. People won’t be able to wander in and out without us knowing about it once it’s set.”
I had the overwhelming feeling that I was being handled. It did not sit well with me. Over the last twenty-four hours I’d been dragged, pushed, guided and manipulated by an incubus, an aura-reading herbalist, a closet monster and several fairies.
“Then what? Bells ring every time a neighbor crosses into the yard for a chat? Sirens go off at three a.m. when a raccoon tries to break into the garbage can?” The food on my plate wasn’t so appealing anymore. I shoved it away and threw my crumpled napkin into the dish. “I can’t live like this. Whatever that guy was, he’s gone. I’m safe. You can’t take over my house like this.” I scraped my chair back and stood up, glaring at Maurice. His calm grated at me and served to piss me off further.
“Zoey, nobody’s taking anything over. You won’t notice the change. Trust me on this. It’s necessary.”
How was I supposed to trust a monster I met yesterday? A monster who couldn’t keep his own marriage together? I opened my mouth to say so, a thing I would have instantly regretted. Hurting people was not in
Learning to Kill: Stories