Melanie's Awakening: Heartland Fae, #2

CHAPTER 1

W elcome to Small Town, America. Finally.

Melanie Blackstone steered the rental car onto her bestie’s quiet cul-de-sac, searching the quaint, tree-lined street for the summer oasis her friend had kindly offered up to her in the Midwest. Eva proposed the idea during a text marathon while Melanie sat in her apartment drowning her sorrows in endless microwave popcorn, chocolate covered raisins, and 1980s horror movies. Melanie jumped at the chance to escape San Francisco, to shove he-who-shall-remain-nameless aka The Jerky Ex out of her mind—and life—for good.

Guys like him—who professed their love then ghosted a girl for weeks only to break-up after said silence in a text message—certainly didn’t deserve another millisecond of her attention. She had much more important things to do with her brain, such as finish her current screenplay. She’d spent entirely too much time on him already and not enough on putting words on the page. Well, her word drought ended tonight. Just as soon as I find Eva’s house, that is.

There it was—a pretty, two-story home, wraparound porch, pristine front yard. All mine for the rest of the summer.

Precisely as advertised, E. You’re a good pal. She pulled into the driveway, killed the engine, and stepped into the sweltering, evening heat.

Whoa, you weren’t kidding about the humidity. Melanie fanned her face with her hand. Hopefully, the A/C would already be blasting away in the house.

Soft, yellow porchlight illuminated the stoop but not much of the front yard. Might have been a bit spooky—not that this horror writer would mind—but bouncing lights blinked on and off above the neatly manicured lawn and walkway, adding a cheerful, welcoming vibe. Lightning bugs. Cool.

Eva warned her about Midwestern bugs. Melanie didn’t look forward to dodging blood-thirsty mosquitoes during her stay, or batting June bugs away from Eva’s beautiful garden as she’d promised to do, but fireflies were okay. Maybe she’d try to catch and release one after unpacking and cooling off. A buzzing near her ear made her jerk and squeak. Uh-oh, the vampire bugs found me.

Melanie shifted into high gear, extricating her gigantic roller suitcase, carry-on duffel, and hobo purse from the trunk before scurrying on her Converse-covered feet to the foot of the stairs.

Good thing I lift weights, she grunted, wrangling her load up the steps and to the front entrance. A cheery pink sheet of paper hung on the screen door. She plucked it off the mesh window and read it as she opened the first barrier to air-conditioned bliss. It was from Eva, of course.

Failte abhaile! Welcome home, M! I know you’ve forgotten the code and also didn’t write it down.

Yep, her friend knew her so well.

So, I made a new one you’ll actually remember more than once. Hint: Boys… Lost… ttyl, luv ya 4eva, E

Melanie laughed and set her fingers to work on the electronic door lock keypad, tapping in the release date for one of her all-time favorite horror films, The Lost Boys. The lock opened with a whir and a click and a perky ending chime, then the wooden door glided forward.

One quick trip upstairs to unpack her things in the guest bedroom followed by a tour of Eva’s recently remodeled home, with its gleaming oak floors and tasteful modern furniture throughout, and Melanie thought she might be ready to own one of these herself instead of inhabiting a little downtown studio. Her baby-sized space, with its floor-to-ceiling windows and spectacular view, was located walking distance of anything a twenty-five-year-old writer like herself could possibly want or need. But wow-oh-wow, what she wouldn’t give for separate roomy living spaces, especially a spa-like bathroom and a full-sized kitchen with stainless steel everything and a fancy-schmancy wine fridge.

Speaking of wine… She relieved the vino cooler of a California red to sip while she waited for her delivery pizza then wandered into the sunroom just off the kitchen. Moonlight illuminated the darkened, glass-walled room, casting the space in an ambient silver glow. She appreciated the cool caress of the air-con as she sank into one of the twin plush chairs nestled between a couple of giant earthenware pots of leafy green plants.

This is a good life, she murmured as she filled her glass almost to the brim then raised it. Cheers to Springdale, Illinois.

She toed off her tennies to enjoy the natural coolness from the stone tiles underfoot, then set the bottle on the side table next to a small pot of oh-so-pretty violets. Her travel-weary body relaxed as she sipped booze from her glass and relished in the calm atmosphere. Yeah, I could definitely get used to chilling in a house like this. Eva’s place would certainly allow her to get crackin’ on the horror screenplay her agent had been patiently waiting for her to complete.

High-pitched, lilting laughter resonated from outside, seeming to emanate from above the room. What the hey?

She jerked her gaze upward past the potted ferns hanging from the glass-ceiling’s oak beams and out into the starry evening where fireflies danced and strobed on the other side of the glass. Music filtered from the exterior—faint, melodic, and unfamiliar. Not country or pop…sort of ethereal and folky, haunting…

Melanie rose, enchanted by the tantalizing tune and tiny dancing lights from her new favorite insect. The tittering increased in volume, along with the song, and her hips swayed in response. The source of the sound seemed to come from overhead, which was impossible outside of fiction. Obviously, one of the neighbors must be having a party nearby.

Party away, good people. She lifted her cup and drained it. Oh, interesting. She must be drinking much faster than she realized, aaaaand with that awareness came a giddy lightheadedness, pulling a giggle from her throat. After a refill on the wicked-good California pinot, she returned her stare to Firefly TV.

A gasp escaped her. What on earth?

Among the typical small blips from the shining insects, much larger, bright balls of light in a multitude of colors—pink, yellow, gold, green, blue, purple—swirled and looped in a seemingly choreographed dance.

Holy wow, writer-gal. Melanie’s heartbeat soared.

She abandoned her wine glass on the table then scrambled for her phone, tugging it from the back pocket of her jean shorts. With practiced ease, she snapped some quick pics then started up video.

I sure hope this isn’t a drunken hallucination. Seriously, did someone spike the wine with shrooms? Either Melanie was high on whatever, or there was a mystery to solve in Eva’s backyard. Some weird natural Midwestern phenomena, akin to the Northern Lights, maybe? Or perhaps colorful drones.

The doorbell rang.

Shoot! Probably her dinner. Melanie pocketed her phone, dashed to the front door and tossed entirely too much money at the delivery guy, then hightailed it back to the sunroom with her pizza.

Double shoot. No sign of the pretty, dancing light balls. Drones, after all. Curious teenagers, most likely.

With a resigned sigh, she placed the pizza box on the chair she’d occupied earlier, retrieved a slice of cheesy goodness, and stared out into the yard. Gray clouds draped themselves over the moon, erasing much of the silver glow bathing the yard and dipping everything into deeper blackness. No sign of the rainbow balls, but fireflies winked on and off among the dripping branches of a voluminous weeping willow tree.

As tall as the house, it stood like a dark sentinel in the backyard, towering behind Eva’s garden. Melanie rested her free hand against the glass wall, fingers flexing with the urge to play with those leafy, slender, low-hanging branches. Weird reaction. Trees were set dressing for sidewalks, or a pretty and aromatic backdrop for a walk around Lake Merced or in Golden Gate Park. She certainly did not caress or cuddle trees.

Must be the wine.

She finished her slice and scooped up a second. More cheese and bread would curb the tipsy tingles and lightheadedness, along with her bizarre reaction to a tree, right? Maybe I’ll sit to eat this next piece.

Settling on the couch to munch on her bounty, her attention remained on the tree where the fireflies continued their dance among the ebony curtain of whip-like branches. The cute little buggers flittered in the garden, too, casting their soft intermittent glow on the abundant flora and person-sized statue in the center.

Hold on a darn second…

The tiny hairs on her nape stood at attention. She rose from the sofa and tossed her second slice’s crust into the box, then hustled to the back door, squinting at the statue she was fairly certain had not been there when she first looked outside. Surely her intoxicated brain simply overlooked it, but dang, it was tall, and shaped like an enormous man with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and long legs. The dark form screamed power, its stance one of command and demand, with its legs set wide, arms crooked, fists on hips. It should have a plaque at its feet reading Here stands the ultimate alpha male. You will obey. Rowr.

The statue moved.

One second it stood stiff and imposing, the next