The
Lending Library
C.
L. Kraemer
clkraemer@hotmail.com
Excerpt
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Heat Level: 1
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Faeries try to
fit into the human world when the forest where they make their home is
destroyed by a mysterious enemy.
EXCERPT
Chapter One
Ailidh
wobbled precariously on her high heels.
Kayne
smirked. "Having problems, dear?"
"Shut
up!" she snapped. "I need to practice this until I get it right. We
don’t really have many options left open to us, Kayne. You had better practice,
too."
He
stopped and steadied himself on the railing of the porch. He wriggled his feet
out of the closed leather shoes that encased them.
"I
don’t know why you insist we wear these ridiculous articles of clothing. This
long-sleeved shirt cuts off the circulation to my hands not to mention the lack
of space for my wings and these long pants chap my legs.
"Worst
of all, are these horrendous leather shoes. They pinch and make my feet swell.
Why do we have to go through all of this? I don’t understand." Kayne
grumbled.
Ailidh
sighed and slowly, patiently
explained to him, once again, why they were practicing.
"Remember
last Wednesday when Keegan and Connal lost their dwelling? The sound of their
tree crashing to the ground was deafening. The Others are moving out more and
more. We will lose our home if we don’t act first. Now, put your shoes back on
and walk for just five more minutes."
Kayne
wrestled his shirt off and threw it to the porch’s deck. He pulled the long
pants off his body and left them in a heap next to the shirt. Bending forward,
he touched his toes gingerly as he gradually unfurled his lacey wings. Slowly,
he pulled himself to an upright position. Shoulders back, wings completely
expanded, he lifted his 18-inch form to its full height and looked at Ailidh
defiantly.
"I
don’t need to fit into the Others’ world. They need to adjust themselves to my
world and leave us alone."
Ailidh,
teetering, grabbed the lower railing of the porch and shook her head.
"Kayne,
most of the Others don’t even know we exist. How can they adjust to something
they don’t even believe?"
"They
adjust to animals, don’t they?"
"The
animals chose to be seen. We did not. Remember? Our great, great grandfathers
took a vote and decided we would endanger ourselves more if we continued to be
visible to the Others. At that time, they didn’t have all the machinery they
have now. They moved into our lands at a slower pace. Now, put on the clothes
and try to adjust."
"No."
Kayne kicked at the clothing on the porch. "I’m going to get a magazine
and a cup of coffee. You can stand here and practice day and night for all I
care."
He
turned on his heels and lifted himself off the ground with his delicate
appendages. He lazily winged his way into the open window of the building
marked Lending Library.
Hovering
until he landed on the balls of his feet, he folded the wings tight to his
torso and walked to the corner of the building signed Coffee Shop. He sat in a
small chair snugged close to the matching table. Sliding the Newsweek someone
had tossed on the table toward him, he flipped through the pages. Minimized for
easier handling, the magazine was still large enough to require both of his
hands to turn the pages. A diminutive nymph in a waitress uniform with a
"Chrissy" nametag took his order for a latte. Ten minutes later, she
returned with the steaming liquid in a cup.
"Thanks,
Chrissy." Kayne picked up the cup carefully and took a sip.
"No
problem, Kayne," she had a surprisingly deep voice for a nymph.
"Where’s Ailidh?"
Kayne
jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the front porch.
"Practicing,"
he grunted.
"Oh,"
Chrissy mopped the table next to Kayne’s with a wet rag then flew daintily to
the kitchen with the dirty cups and saucers she’d picked up. One of the
resident dryads of the valley, Chrissy was living in the tree behind the
Lending Library. Her home across the meadow had been one of the first destroyed.
Ailidh is right. Kayne frowned at the
silent admission. The Others were invading his world with frightening, swift,
uncaring swaths into the forestlands. Soon there wouldn’t be an Ancient tree
left. While, at a glance, their movements seemed random, even careless, Kayne
had noted a pattern, albeit haphazard, to their actions. Months earlier he’d
watched from a safe distance as the huge screeching yellow machines ripped up
his ancient wood friends and squashed their bodies beneath armored tracks. He
could never be sure whether the squealing had been the old trees or the vicious
yellow machines. After the first occasion of watching as they destroyed a sea
of Ancients, Kayne had left on shaky wings and flown home. Ailidh was furious
at him, thinking he’d been with his friends drinking honeysuckle wine. He
couldn’t stop throwing up long enough to tell her what he’d seen.
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