Chapter 70 71
Floating in midair, wings fluttering like she just stepped out of a Disney movie gone rogue, was a fae. A real one. Tiny as my hand, glowing faintly gold, wearing—dear goddess help me—the most atrocious outfit I’d ever seen.
Her dress was made of glitter, tulle, and possibly the souls of sacrificed Barbie dolls. It shimmered pink, sparkly, and had sequins. Actual sequins.
“Oh, hell no,” I muttered.
She crossed her little arms, hovering with an expression that screamed judgmental mall clerk. “And who might you be, stomping through my forest in… those rags?”
Excuse me? Those rags?
I looked down at myself. Sure, I was covered in dirt, blood, and probably tree sap, but still. My jeans were functional. My jacket was sensible.
“You mean my post-apocalyptic forest chic?” I said, squinting up at her. “This is called survival fashion, sweetie. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Comes with pockets and trauma.”
She gasped, one dainty hand flying to her chest. “Survival fashion? Pockets?! Barbaric.”
“Oh my goddess, you sound like an influencer trying to sell overpriced acorn tea.”
Her wings fluttered faster, like she was about to combust. “This is custom-made fae couture! Handwoven from the silk of moon spiders and enchanted starlight!”
“Uh-huh,” I said, unimpressed. “Looks like something ripped off a discount Barbie from the dollar store clearance bin.”
Her jaw dropped. “How dare you!”
I shrugged. “Hey, you started it. I didn’t mean to intrude into your little Ken vacation house in Malibu, okay? I’m just lost. No need to roast my outfit like I’m on Project Runway: Woodland Edition.”
She glared, tiny sparkles flying off her wings like glitter grenades. “Do you even know whose forest this is?”
“I don’t know,” I said, squinting dramatically. “Does it come with free snacks? Because I’ve been running for my life for twelve hours and the only thing I’ve eaten is a chocolate bar from a plastic bag in a tree.”
She blinked, clearly not used to this level of chaos. “A… chocolate bar?”
“Yes. Delicious. Sweet. Human food. Not magic. Not cursed. Just pure, beautiful calories.”
The fae wrinkled her nose like I’d said I enjoyed bathing in sewage. “Mortals. Always so… primitive.”
“Excuse me, glitterbug, but I’ve met vampires, witches, and one very moody lake spirit, and you’re by far the most judgmental.”
She puffed up her chest, glowing brighter. “You’re in my glade, werewolf. That means I get to judge.”
“Oh, trust me, sweetheart, you’re doing amazing. You could replace the entire judging panel on RuPaul’s Drag Race.”
Her wings buzzed irritably, and she zipped up close to my face until her nose almost touched mine. “You have no respect for ancient beings, do you?”
“Ancient? Honey, you look like you fell out of a glitter bomb at a five-year-old’s birthday party.”
Her mouth dropped open again—honestly, I was starting to wonder how she didn’t catch flies that way.
“Why, you—you mud-wearing, uncultured, fur-coated mammal!”
I snorted. “Aww, thank you! And you’re a sparkly garden gnome with anger issues. Look at us bonding already.”
She shrieked. “Bonding?! I should turn you into a toad!”
I put my hands up. “Whoa, whoa, relax, Tinker Hell. I’m just saying hi! I didn’t mean to crash your… glitter rave.”
“Glitter rave?! This is ancient Fae ground!”
“Yeah, well, ancient Fae ground could use some landscaping. You’ve got moss growing in weird places.”
The fae turned beet-red—well, glittery pink—but I swear her tiny cheeks were glowing. “How dare you insult—”
“Relax.” I sighed, flopping down on a nearby rock. “Look, I just need directions. Preferably somewhere that doesn’t involve cursed forests, bloodthirsty cultists, or… fashion police fairies.”
She huffed, fluttering higher, clearly torn between hexing me and offering me tea.
“Fine,” she finally said. “You may rest here. But only because your aura is… tragic.”
“My aura?” I said, glaring. “What’s wrong with my aura?”
“It’s giving… ‘midlife crisis meets roadkill.’”
“Oh, you little glitter demon.”
She grinned sweetly, all fake innocence and sparkling wings. “Language, wolf-girl. Children of the moon should mind their manners.”
“Children of the moon should also mind their caffeine intake,” I muttered, brushing off my knees. “Got any coffee, Miss Sparkle Farts?”
She blinked. “What’s coffee?”
“Oh dear goddess.” I groaned. “This is going to be a long day.”
The fae fluttered down to a leaf table that looked like it belonged in a dollhouse and waved her hand. Instantly, two acorn cups filled with some glowing blue liquid appeared.
“Drink,” she said primly.
“Is it poison?” I asked, sniffing it.
She looked offended. “It’s elixir of dew-blossom! Very good for your skin.”
“Yeah, that’s what poisoners always say.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re paranoid.”
“You’re sparkly.”
“Rude!”
“True!”
We just stared at each other, me with my resting bitch face, her with her tiny pout.
Finally, I sighed. “Okay, fine. Truce, Glitter Barbie. I won’t insult your dollhouse if you don’t hex me into a lawn ornament.”
She hesitated, then smirked. “Deal. But only if you apologize for mocking my fashion.”
“Oh, honey,” I grinned wickedly, “that’s not an apology I have the emotional range to give.”
The fae threw her tiny hands up. “Impossible creature!”
“And yet,” I said, leaning back with a smug grin, “still fabulous.”
I swear, the universe had a sick sense of humor. There I was, dirty, exhausted, possibly bleeding somewhere, sitting in front of a fairy cottage while being judged by a six-inch supermodel with wings.
If this was what fate had planned for me, I was starting to think the gods were drunk when they wrote my destiny.
But hey… at least I wasn’t dead.
And maybe—just maybe—this ridiculous fairy was exactly the kind of chaos I needed to survive this cursed forest.
Because if I could handle her, I could handle anything.
Okay. So here’s the thing: I’m not usually a “mystical tea” kind of girl. If you hand me a glowing liquid in a mushroom cup, my default setting is nope. But Barbie—the glitter-fae formerly known as “no name”—just hovered there, batting her sparkly lashes like a supernatural Starbucks barista.
And you know what? I was desperate. My arms were cut, my side still ached from the newbie Black Fang guy’s fight, my throat felt like sandpaper, and my legs were one tantrum away from falling off. So, against my better judgment, I took a sip.
And holy mother of furballs.
The blue stuff tasted like honey met lemon met pure heaven. It slid down my throat like silk and then—boom—heat exploded in my chest. My wounds? Sealing. My bruises? Fading. My fatigue? Gone like my last paycheck after rent.
It was like chugging an entire bucket of Red Bull mixed with a lightning strike. My wolf inside me howled, and not her normal “we’re hungry” howl either. No, this was a full-blown, alpha-in-her-prime, I’ve-never-felt-this-strong kind of howl.
I blinked, my hands glowing faintly. “What… the actual hell was that?!”
Barbie smirked, wings twinkling. “Elixir of Dew-Blossom.”
“Elixir of—” I waved my hand wildly. “That wasn’t an elixir. That was… performance-enhancing magic steroids!”
She tilted her head, faux-innocent. “Oh, is that what mortals call it now?”
“No, mortals call it illegal,” I muttered. But I couldn’t stop grinning. I felt like I could run across the entire continent barefoot while carrying a truck on my back. “My wolf feels like she’s on cosmic crack right now!”
Barbie snorted—yes, the ancient fae snorted—and drifted down to perch on a mossy rock, her glitter dress flickering like a disco ball.
“You’re welcome,” she said primly.
“Yeah, thanks, Barbie.”
She frowned. “Barbie?”
“That’s your name now.”
“I told you,” she said with a haughty flick of her wings, “I have no name.”
“Exactly. Which is why your name is Barbie. You look like one, you dress like one, you act like one. Own it.”
Her glittery cheeks flushed pink. “That’s… absurd.”
“That’s branding, sweetheart. And you’re lucky. I almost called you Tinker Hell.”
Barbie huffed but didn’t argue. Which was how I knew she secretly liked it.