Land of Smoke and Ashes

Moonlight and Lavender

When Natalie got home she found her father in the basement. Judging by the amount of sloshy sounds and the colorful barrage of curses that were coming from the stairs, it seemed as though the water tank had finally burst. It had been the furnace he'd had to fix last month. The house, when they'd bought it, had been advertised as a "fixer upper" and Natalie had always thought it a gross understatement. But according to her father it had been a steal for a mid-century gothic heritage house, and he was quite happy to fix it up. He'd spent a few years as a carpenter and handyman before becoming an architecture, he'd said, and had waved off any concern with a cheerful smile.

This cheer seemed to have dissolved in the face of a flooded basement, so Natalie made her way into the kitchen, where she found a box of pizza on the counter that hadn't even been opened yet. Apparently he'd brought dinner home and then discovered the swamp before he'd gotten a chance to dig in. She felt a pang of sympathy for her father, before remembering what she'd been about to confront him for.

After another glance toward the door—the swearing had increased in volume—she decided to grab a slice of cheese pizza and retreat to her bedroom. She could confront him once he was done mopping up the mess down there. Normally she would have gone down to help, but if she went down there she would ask him about everything, she wouldn't be able to help it. And "basement swamp crisis mode" wasn't exactly the best mindset for him to be in when she started this conversation.

The house creaked as Natalie made her way up the crooked, winding staircase. She was always careful to hang on to the banister. She'd tripped down them once, when they'd first moved in, and her father had repaired the top three, but she still didn't trust them fully any more. The entire house perpetually seemed on the verge of collapse.

She slipped into her room and shut the door, setting her plate down on the shelf. She let her book bag drop to the carpet with a thud, before flopping onto the bedspread. The cheese pizza smelled great, but Natalie's stomach was still squirming. She lay on the bed and stared up at the roof, her hand drifting automatically to the silver fairy pendant, fingers smoothing over the curves and edges.

She hadn't bothered to closer her shades before leaving this morning, and her bedroom was lit only by the full moon coming in through the window. The light fell in bars across the contents of her room, the "Life is a Daring Adventure" poster, with a twisting river down the side of a canyon, and the books on her shelf, a mixture of guide books she had found at thrift stores, and her world map, pinned with all the places she planned to go.

A thick beam of silver light illuminated one side of her bed, and Natalie turned over on her side. She slipped the necklace off, letting the chain dangle from her fingers. The charm glittering in the silvery light. Something about it seemed different suddenly. It seemed, in that strange, ethereal light, more detailed than ever. The face of the fairy was intricately carved, lined and somehow...more alive than before.

It made Natalie want to hold her breath. Like any second now it might move. The silver lips might curve in a wide smile. The delicate, lacey wings might flutter.

Of course, it didn't. What a ridiculous thought.

She lay back on the mattress again, clutching the charm necklace in both hands, shutting her eyes. Maybe Sera was right, maybe there was something to be learned from the necklace. Maybe if she took it to a jewelry place they would be able to tell her where it had come from. It seemed like a stretch, but she was suddenly curious about it. The woman in the photo downstairs, with the hard eyes and the bristly haircut, wouldn't have worn a fairy pendant, she was certain. But the woman in the older picture would have. She had dreamy eyes.