“Sometimes, childrens' books are more insightful than adult books,” a lady said from behind her.
“I don't think this is what I'm look for,” Tamara said looking over her shoulder. She blinked twice and the book fell from her grasp, clattering onto the floor. The woman was taller than Tamara by at least a foot. Her eyes instantly went to the woman's feet, thinking she must be wearing heels, but her pale feet were bare and her toenails painted a deep crimson. Her dress was black, billowing around her knees and fitted at the hips.
The bodice was low-cut and Tamara thought the woman looked a little too old to be wearing a push-up bra, but with the cleavage the dress was showing, the lady must have been, but it wasn't her bare feet, nor the low-cut dress that had Tamara bemused. It was the glittering black wings she wore on her back. The wings looked to be custom made, the fabric was thick and looked life-like. Tamara raised a hand intending to touch them, but they fluttered. Startled, Tamara stumbled back three steps. Light danced through the woman's green eyes and her black curls bounced as if a breeze had shuffled through the building.
“Those look really... well real,” Tamara said, stooping down to retrieve the fallen book.
Halloween was creeping closer everyday, but it was too early for costumes. Besides, who were costumes to the library anyway?
“Thank ye, lass,” the woman said. Tamara noticed a faint trace of a fake Irish accent.
“Your accent needs some work,” Tamara said and reshelved the book.
The woman laughed, making Tamara take another step back. The air vibrated over her arms, sending a chill up her spine. The lights flickered and for a moment Tamara thought the floor trembled beneath her feet. It stopped so suddenly that she couldn't be sure.
“Oh, lass,” the faerie said breathlessly, “Ye be a funny one, but on to business, shall we?”
“Business?” Tamara asked, crossing her arms and jutting out her hip. Just who did this woman think she was? Did she have Tamara confused with someone else perhaps?
“Ye've a faerie problem,” the woman said leaning against one of the tall shelves, “Pissed off the wee folk, so to speak.”
“What are you talking about?” Tamara asked, fighting the urge to roll her eyes, feeling the woman wouldn't take very kindly to it.
“Well, ye gotcha yourself a faerie problem don't you?”
“I don't think so,” Tamara said.
“So, ye haven't had anything weird happen, then?”
“How do you know about that?” Tamara asked, taking another step back.
“It's me specialty after all, isn't it, lass?”
“Look, lady, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm fine really and now I'll just be on my way out the door,” Tamara said, turning away from the woman and quickly walking away.
“Look here, lassie,” the woman said, cutting Tamara off a the next row of books, “Ye've got yourself a faerie problem. I didn't give it to you. You let that handsome lad lead you into pissing off the wee folk. Now, you've got to appease them. If you don't t
hey'll never leave you in peace and you can forget about anything ever happening between you and that handsome lad.”
“What are you talking about? I know you're all caught up in the spirit of Halloween, but lady, everyone knows that faeries aren't real.”
“Think what, ye will, lass, but the problem won't go away on its own, ye know.”
“I'm outta here!” Tamara said, stepping around the lady.
“Leave our lands! Go on, lass! You're not welcome here, anyway, theif!” the lady shouted and Tamara heard an object zooming through the air. She ducked just before the thick book would have collided with the back of her head.
“What the hell?” she turned on her heels, scooping up the book intent on throwing it back at her, but she was gone.
Tamara looked down at the book in her hand. Its cover was as dark as the midnight sky and just as empty as a starless night, if that starless night happened to fall on the night of the dark moon as well. Tamara flipped it open searching for a title page.
“Appeasing the Wee Ones.”
“Appeasing the Wee Ones?” Tamara said out loud.
“There are times when mortals must make amends to the ones they insult,” the first line read, “Mortals often trample over the lands that belong to the fae, the wee ones, the wee folk, the spirits of nature, and those of infinite names. It is widely known that these small people are not apt to quickly forgive nor overlook a trespass. They will pursue the smallest insult with determination. If you a brave (or stupid) enough to seek them out beware that the tides of nature side with them.
Do not lie. Do not steal. Do not take what does not belong to you. If something is on their land, it is theirs. If you have need of it, it is best to ask. If no answer is given, leave something of equal use in the place of the object you take. If you make your home near the land of the wee folk leave an offering of milk and honey, to apologize for the trespasses you make in your ignorance.”