1. Amber

Chapter one

Amber

I was late.

I hated being late. Feeling rushed. Out of control. I blamed the alarm. It was the alarm’s fault that it decided to abscond its duty during my afternoon nap, letting the short rest expand into full-on sleep.

Quickly hopping through my room in my one-bedroom apartment, I dug a green knit dress out of my closet, frowning at the wrinkles, but pleased with its clean scent. Oh well, the wrinkles would come out with wear. I threw it on, satisfied that it made me somewhat presentable.

Next was the hair, which was quickly tamed by tugging my red mane into a ponytail. As for makeup, I would have to do with what was already on my face, other than to make sure it hadn’t smeared to make me look like a raccoon. A lot had changed since the worlds merged, but raccoons were still generally not considered aspirational. Luckily, I still had on a little makeup from this morning, a layer of nice, human makeup—none of that fae-altered powder that was all over the Internet. In my opinion, it made the skin too shiny, and I wasn’t convinced it didn’t sap the user’s intelligence in the process. Didn’t people read their own legends and myths? Fairy magic came with a cost. Why would cosmetics be any different, no matter how much Little Fairy Flavor, the social media starlet, claimed otherwise.

Alright—my appearance would work. It had to. Besides, tonight was just drinks with friends, a couple nightcaps before bed. Sure, my friends would’ve been fine if I asked for an extra ten minutes to shave my legs, but I didn’t need them worrying about me. They already worried enough, as they would no doubt tell me themselves. And the two of them were going nowhere near my legs. Why would they care if they were a little textured?

The bar I was supposed to meet my friends at was only several blocks away from my apartment in northeast Minneapolis, a neighborhood known for its themed bars and specialty restaurants. It was a place where tourists tended not to visit as it wasn’t close to the city’s more notable landmarks. And even better, the area was just a smidge too inconvenient for a lot of the college students who wanted to drink and walk home. Thus, since it was a Thursday, the area wasn’t overly crowded, but it was crowded enough. Parking was a miserable experience—as always—and whatever dubious benefits the new arrivals gave humanity, a solution to parking wasn’t one of them. Once I found my vehicle’s resting place on a side street in front of some tidy townhouses—free parking for the win—I took a deep breath, preparing for what awaited me. I loved my friends. But they worried. For good reason.

The chosen venue was packed. In order to get in I had to wait in line behind several people dressed in the sort of fantasy attire that used to be kept to Renaissance festivals and Halloween parties before being admitted by a rather intimidating fellow. It was like being in a lineup of the Renaissance’s Most Wanted.

All at once the scent of the bar washed over me—stale beer, dust, and male body spray. Music thrummed over the crowd, a deep techno beat that riveted through my body. It took only three steps before a man backed into me, trying to make room for a flock of women attempting to get to the bathroom. What was this? Why were there so many people? It was just a Thursday…

And then a haunting melody carried over the crowd. A non-human melody.

Ah…that explained why this place was so excited—

The entertainment.

A frail woman stood on the worn-down stage, belting out chords that held the audience enrapt, like children staring at a lit Christmas tree. Her pale skin was tinged with violet, made more dramatic by the colored stage lights. Her sharp teeth poked out from behind blood-red lips. She was beautiful, but in an abstract way, like how an insect’s exoskeleton carried depths of colors and fine angles. Translucent wings shimmered behind her, fluttering with each sung note. Dust speckled in the air, visible in the brilliant spotlight that shone on her. She was a slender creature, who likely only came up to my bust in height, but only a fool equated size with strength these days. With these creatures, anything could kill.

Well, the audience wasn’t going to be distracted from that anytime soon. I tried not to frown as I searched for my friends and assumed my Neutral Bitch Face, the friendlier half-sister of my Resting Bitch Face. The bar was dark, but it was easy enough to find them—it was like their gazes bored into me, pulling me closer to their glorious presence.

Or it might have been the fact that my friend Phoebe was the only one bold enough to carry a purse shaped like an eerily realistic stuffed cat. Such things stood out, even in Minneapolis. She pushed her dark hair behind her ears and waved me over like a policeman directing traffic. Her partner, Emily, sat next to her, her dark hair and black t-shirt staid against the majesty that was Phoebe’s purse.

I took a seat across from them at the small circular table and winced as my hand made contact with the sticky surface. If this was on top, what lurked underneath this thing? Quickly, I drew it away and let my hands rest on my lap, trying to use the knit fabric to clean my hands .

“We didn’t think you’d show,” Phoebe said, nudging a very pale beer towards me. Not my favorite, but it would do. I accepted with a smile.

“I keep my plans,” I said.

“Too bad you don’t have that same attitude about jobs,” Emily said, her southern drawl out of place in this bastion of the Midwest. She shrugged when Phoebe glared at her. “What? It’s true.”

I wanted to be mad at Emily, but I couldn’t. I sighed in defeat and swallowed my pain along with the beer. If they started this meeting with my lack of gainful employment, I was in for the lecture of a lifetime. When I was done with my swallow, half of the beer gone already, I interrupted their lighthearted bickering and said, “I know, I know , I need to do something else. Which is why I think it’s time for me to go back.”

That got their attention. “So, you’re serious about that?” Phoebe asked, a manicured brow creeping up. “You’re insane. What’s in Grand Rapids? Cows?”

“Not really…but there’s lakes.” Grand Rapids was a city, to use the term generously. A city that existed. In northern Minnesota. One that people tended not to go to on purpose.

“Amber,” Phoebe said, “look where you are—there’s fucking lakes everywhere. There’s like twenty in the metro alone.”

“Actually,” Emily said, “there’s twenty-two just in Minneapolis. ”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “Lake trivia? Really?”

Emily shrugged. “You’re the one who keeps dragging me to trivia nights.”

“Is that accurate?” I asked.

“The trivia guy said it is,” Emily said.

Phoebe shook her head. “Stop it, she’s trying to change the subject. Amber, why are you insisting on going back there? You think moving home to that little town is going to magically give you a career?”

“Or a man,” Emily muttered. Phoebe glared again.

“I need time,” I said. I did. I needed to go home and be with my family. Figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I was twenty-four and, frankly, I had no idea what I was doing. Maybe some time in a smaller town would let me focus on me. Less distractions, of every sort. I liked men, but the selection of available men up there was numerically challenging, so odds were that my plan of geographically-induced celibacy would work.

“Family,” Phoebe said. “Is this the same family who made you cosplay as a pioneer girl for some house party?”

“House parade.” I rolled my eyes. “It added to the effect.”

“This is what happens in rural towns,” Emily muttered. “Marching houses.” Emily wasn’t being fair. It wasn’t so much marching houses as it was a self-guided tour through a list of participating homes to admire—that is, judge—the dé cor.

Phoebe nodded, eyes lit with amusement. “But our point stands—what is there that is better than here?”

“Let’s see,” Emily said to me, “shall we count the jobs? The ones that were unsuitable for you. You were a caretaker at a plant nursery—didn’t like that.”

“Too seasonal,” I said. I had a degree in landscape design, but what was I supposed to do with that ? Sure, I learned a lot, but design wasn’t exactly transmitted by people reciting it on the street. Unless you were in Dinkytown, the college neighborhood near the University of Minnesota. Odd things happened there. Regardless, jobs were hard to come by. At least, ones I was interested in. Turns out I shouldn’t have chosen my major out of a hat.

“You didn’t like the library,” Emily continued. “Or the auto parts store.”

“The store one wasn’t my fault. The manager hit on me. Asked me if I needed my ‘plugs replaced.’” Phoebe laughed, but it died quickly. I smiled, albeit unwillingly—it was funny, in retrospect.

“Yes, he was a fuckwad,” Emily said, “but that brings us to point two—you’re as awful with relationships as you are at jobs.”

Phoebe reached out a hand to her partner. “Emily—”

“Sorry, Pheebs, but she needs to hear this. If she is planning on running back to Grand Rapids—of all places—she needs to hear that it isn’t going to fix things.” Emily took a long swig of her gin and tonic. “That’s the thing about moving—you bring yourself with you.”

“I’m not going to be with someone I’m not happy with.”

“Fair,” Emily said. “But let’s go over some of the reasons you weren’t happy, now that the job talk is done. For now. Let’s discuss Mark—he didn’t like cats?”

“Thus, I didn’t like him.”

“Alright, that one I can’t blame you for. But what about Henri?”

“He thrashed in his sleep.”

“…Alright. Greg.”

“Called his mother too much.”

“Steven.”

“Ordered sides with an entrée that came with sides.”

“And how is that a bad thing?”

I shrugged. “It means he is never going to be content with what he has.”

Emily blinked. Hard. “And now we have the lemon calling the grapefruit bitter.”

“Amber,” Phoebe said, “we worry about you. You shouldn’t be with someone you’re not content with, but those are some rather obscure reasons to end a relationship. And…you’re not in high school anymore.”

I shrugged again. “If they had been adequate in other departments, I may have overlooked some things.”

“So,” Emily said, looking at the ceiling in seeming contemplation, “in addition to the gentlemen we have just listed, we also have two Adams, a Bryan, and an Andrew who were all inadequate. In bed.”

“Hey, I didn’t get to that point with all of them. Most were just a date or two. That didn’t leave the restaurant.”

“Still, it wasn’t like these were losers, Amber. One had his own business, another was in med school, and wasn’t one a new lawyer?”

Two were lawyers. But Emily didn’t need to know that.

“So, what do you think I should do?” I asked, slamming the rest of the beer while I waited for them to answer.

“Move in with us,” Phoebe said. “We have an extra room. Leave your waitressing job—you’re going to anyway—and get something entry level somewhere. Something with health insurance.”

“And a 401k,” Emily added.

“Sounds fun,” I said, not entirely sarcastically. “But I like my job.”

“No, you don’t,” Emily said.

“How could I not? I get to spend my days in a dishwasher’s amorous embrace.”

Both Phoebe and Emily stared at me, their eyes robotic. Though, that was hardly the strangest thing they’ve heard me say, so I wasn’t sure what the judgment was for.

“This is life, and you’re not happy with the one you have,” Phoebe finally said, and then frowned. “We’re worried about you. Especially since…”

“It was five years ago,” I said. “I’ve dealt with it. ”

“Kinda hard to deal when a reminder is literally singing behind you,” Emily said.

I paused. If only I had another beer. Something—anything—for me to do besides respond. No such luck. “I have the same answer to all of this as always—a fae or elf forest in place of Stearns County is an improvement. Fight me.”

Phoebe and Emily nodded, but I could tell they didn’t believe me. Because I lied. I’d never get over the fact that my best friend disappeared with the rest of the land when the elf forest arrived. Now, instead of Anna, I had these fairy fuckers. Though it wasn’t like I was alone in this—almost everyone knew someone who was now gone. Some had lost everyone.

Phoebe gently shifted the conversation to other topics, namely, our plans for the next weekend—we were going gambling up at Mille Lacs—and let myself enjoy their company. If I ignored who was singing, if I ignored how once in a while some sort of non-human strolled through the bar, then I could pretend that everything was as it should be.

I was about to tell Emily and Phoebe the latest work drama about my coworker who treated her chihuahuas like they were middle-aged roommates when a man caught my attention. He was human—thankfully—and sitting alone at a table against the back wall. There was a bottle of beer on the table that was untouched, his hands resting on the worn wood. He wore black slacks and a black button up and leather gloves that were tucked into his sleeves. Was he some sort of office hipster? Maybe, because he wore a baseball cap, his light hair hidden underneath.

However, it wasn’t his questionable attire that caught my attention—it was his even, placid expression, inspecting everyone who passed him by, yet moving little more than his eyes. I took him in—all of him. His finely chiseled features, sharp cheekbones, and defined lips. The way his muscles pressed against his shirt. The way that his posture was both relaxed and commanding. Yes, there was a lot more than his attire that drew me to him.

And then we made eye contact, his brilliant gaze boring into mine. I quickly looked away.

“Nope, you’re not doing it,” Emily said.

“Doing what?”

“Dating anyone you meet here.”

“…You’re here. So am I.”

“We’re women,” Phoebe said. “We don’t count.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, shifting and turning my full attention back to my friends. “I’m not in the mood to pick up anyone tonight.” Even if I wanted to talk to the mysterious-if-dourly dressed man, I didn’t have a chance—when I looked back, he was gone.