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I looked at them, and my skin seemed normal. Well, as normal as I ever got.
    Was the evidence becoming stronger that I wasn’t like everyone else? Was my fae-ness showing through more?
    I had been feeling different lately. As if something was going to happen, as if something was going to change for me soon. In a way, the sensation was like puberty all over again. I could feel the changes slowly moving over me, rippling under my skin, waiting to burst through.
    I just hoped I had enough strength and humanity to keep them at bay. At least until I could figure out how to control them. Or find some way to cleanse them from my blood.
    I glanced at the clock on the wall, and I heard the tick tick tick of the second hand and knew I didn’t have much time before something monumental happened.
    ***

Chapter 6
    It was past midnight when I finally shuffled through the front door of my house, dog tired with a migraine digging at my right temple. Tossing my bag and keys onto the table at the front entrance, I toed off my shoes and then padded into the kitchen for some tea. If the tea didn’t soothe my head, I was definitely going to pop pain meds so I could get some decent sleep.
    The kettle whistled, knocking me out of my reverie. I poured the hot water over the herbal tea bag. As I dunked, I looked out the window into the garden. The night was beautiful, clear skies without any breeze. I wondered if my father had spent some time outside today. Although I warned him to stay away from the garden, I knew he wouldn’t listen. He was stubborn. That was one trait we shared.
    Yawning, I rubbed my eyes. I took a sip of my tea and hoped the brew would do its thing and relax me enough to let me sleep soundly. There’d been too many nights with troubled thoughts and strange dreams.
    Tea in hand, I turned to go upstairs to bed when something out the window caught my eye. Squinting, I stared into the garden near the pond. Something glimmered there, a flash of something white. Was it wings? Were more pixies coming to finish the job?
    Setting down my cup, I reached for one of the butcher knives from the wooden block. If the tiny fae were back, they would soon wish they’d picked another house to flutter over. Holding the knife, blade down, in a defensive position, I slid open the deck doors and crept outside in my bare feet. Heart pounding so hard it hurt, I moved toward the garden, searching the plants for any movement.
    Every breath I took burned my lungs. Fear gripped me tight, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I wouldn’t let anything injure my father, no matter how big or how mean it turned out to be.
    When I reached the edge of the garden, I scanned the area. Nothing moved. No breeze whispered. The only thing I heard were crickets chirping nearby in the grass.
    I stepped into the dirt between the rows of night blooming moon flowers. Feeling the earth between my toes grounded me a little. I’d always possessed an affinity to the ground, the dirt, and the flowers and plants that grew in it. During my childhood years, I spent as much time as I could in our garden, running my fingers through the soil, touching the leaves of the plants. I didn’t realize why then, but I knew now my actions were because of my fae blood. I was connected to the earth.
    As I continued through the garden, I trailed my fingers over the dark petals, feeling for anything out of place. Anything not of plant origin. When I reached the pond, I turned and looked over the path I’d just come. Nothing out here. Maybe my fatigue was playing with my mind. It wouldn’t be the first time.
    As I let go the breath I’d been holding, something caused me to turn toward the pond. Normally, there were two frogs living in it. I eyed the rippling water, searching for the tops of their warty heads. I didn’t see them, but the water continued to ripple as if stirred by something beneath the surface.
    While I stared into the