I didn’t answer her, at least not right away. Eric was the bigfoot I’d saved from a ceremonial death at the hands of a crazy old woman. It had taken a lot of luck, plus the training of my youth, but we hadn’t walked away without any scrapes and bruises. Could it have really been that so little time had passed since that had all gone down? I thought through the last few days of training with the Hollows Group. Today was five days since I’d stopped the blood ceremony and saved Eric. Seemed like an eternity, though my body reminded me otherwise.
I took a breath and my back twinged, making me grimace.
“Eric is a good guy.” I took out some eyeliner and leaned toward the mirror again as I attempted to outline my left eye. I ended up with a line that looked like a five-year-old had drawn it. “I don’t know about meeting up with your lady. I’m still new to the Hollows Group, and it might not be a good idea for me to start crossing lines.” The pencil dipped into my eye well, and my eye flooded with tears. “Damn it.”
“Here, I said I would do it, let me do it.” The fairy flew in front of my face and held out her hands. I gave her the eyeliner pencil, wondering if she could even handle the weight. It was about as long as she was high, but she grabbed it as if it weighed nothing. “Close your eyes.”
I did as she said and the lightest brush of the pencil tip ran along the edge of my eyelid. “I’d ask your name, but I know that’s probably out of bounds. So what should I call you?” I asked, trying not to breathe out too hard. I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet, and I didn’t want to kill the little critter.
“You can call me Kinkly. Friends call me Kink.” She moved on to my other eyelid. “You have a lot of loose skin. Is that what happens to humans as they age? Or is something wrong with you?”
I gritted my teeth. “Are fairy critters always so subtle in their approach to insults?”
“I wasn’t insulting you,” she said as she ran the pencil along a lower lid. “If I’d wanted to insult you, I’d have mentioned the hovel you live in, the terribly made clothing you wear, or the obvious disdain you have for your appearance. Things you have the power to change. I wouldn’t insult things you can’t change, like your loose skin.”
My mouth dropped open and I fought not to splutter—bad morning breath, remember? I snapped my mouth shut with a click.
“Open your eyes.” She fluttered around my face as I blinked at her. “You have pretty green eyes, we need to highlight them. Are you in a mating ritual, is that why you are putting this stuff on? For the one with all the lube? He is very nice to look at. If he were smaller, I’d let him roll around on me in a bed of leaves.”
I had to fight back a laugh. “No, not for Corb.” Though that idea did have its merits. “I think I’ll be running into my ex-husband later today. Kind of a face-off, if you will. He stole my gran’s house from me, and now it’s going up for auction. He’ll be there, so I want to look good.” Also there was a chance Crash could be there. He’d expressed interest in my gran’s house. Maybe he’d want to buy it and give it to me because my makeup was on point? I snorted to myself, unable to take my own fantasy seriously.
“You mean you have a mate that is not a mate any longer?” She dropped onto the counter and scooped up a palette of colors. I held my hand out and she plunked it into my palm, then went for a softer brush. This was a perfect deal. One thing I’d never excelled at was the ability to highlight cheekbones, eyebrows, eyes, or lips. A swipe of mascara and maybe some lip gloss was pretty much the high end of my abilities.
“You are correct,” I mumbled. “A mate that is a mate no longer.”
“Hmm. Such a human thing. We kill our mates if they betray us. Close your eyes,” she said, and I dutifully obeyed even as I smiled. Killing Himself would certainly bring me satisfaction. The brush flowed over my eyelids, tickling me a little. “Why would you trust me? You know that most people hate fairy folk. We have a deal, but even so, you are very relaxed. Other than when your heart rate accelerated upon seeing that lovely specimen earlier.”
I sighed. She wasn’t wrong about the heart rate business, or the fact that people didn’t trust fairies. My gran had poured her wisdom into a book I’d been lucky enough to acquire, and in it, written in her own hand, was a warning not to trust any fairy. The fairy—or fae—were tricksters like no others. They cause trouble on a good day. On a bad day they’d hurt you just because they could and get away with it because they were so good at hiding their tracks. Which was probably why Eammon and the Hollows Group had turned down whatever job they’d been offered, regardless of the money.
So why had Kinkly asked me about trusting her? Her bringing up the trust issue was interesting. I dredged up a few more tidbits from my past schooling with my gran, my mind moving more quickly now that some of the cobwebs had been cleared. “We made a deal, and I understand you all take that seriously. Your wings were involved. Your own kind might have killed you for having been caught, correct?”
The brush strokes slowed. “You know more about us than I would have thought. The lady was right to ask for you. But the leprechaun said no. He judged us without knowing us or attempting to understand our problem. Would you do the same?”
Now that was interesting indeed. My mentor Eammon was, of course, the leprechaun in question.
“No,” I mumbled. “Mostly, I’m done listening to the world and its opinions when it comes to people. By their standards I should not be friends with Eric because he’s a bigfoot. Yet I would consider him a friend.”
The strokes of the brush picked up speed again. “That is very wise.”
I wanted to laugh at her. I knew buttering up when I heard it. Even if I hadn’t realized what Boy Butter was based on the packaging.
“Nah, I’m just tired of jerks and assholes. I’d rather form my own opinions about the people I deal with than let someone else tell me they’re a certain way because they are a fairy, or a bigfoot, or a werewolf.” Or a blacksmith with magic hands.
She hummed a little as she worked on my face. “I like you. I didn’t expect that.”
A smile slid over my lips as she put something on them. “Two of my closest friends at the moment are a river maid and a walking skeleton. Why not a fairy too?” Kind of rounded out my current posse. My lips quirked up. “Besides, if Eric likes you, you can’t be too bad.”
The brush paused over my right eye and then picked up again. A few minutes later she stopped. “There, that is the best I can do given my canvas.”
I opened my eyes and gave an experimental frown to see if said canvas wrinkled or not. “Pretty good, no crease lines, no red eyes.” I nodded. “Good job, Kinkly.” Really, more than a good job. My skin was smooth, eyes perfectly highlighted, lips just pouty enough to be enticing, not like I’d stuffed them into the business end of a vacuum.
She blushed and floated about until I held out the palm of my hand for her to land in. “May I come with you to see this ex-man of yours?” she asked. “He sounds horrible. I like to see horrible things. And maybe I can convince you to talk to the lady.”
Subtle she was not, but I admired a determined woman.