A Fairy's Tale
Sweat poured down the flushed forehead of a tall lithe willowy girl. She was on pointe and her toes were begging to ache. She silently prayed for a release.
"Ok girls. You may come off pointe," a tall muscular woman said in a voice thick with a French accent. "Those of you who take Irish dancing, don't forget that it has been switched to tomorrow."
The girl sighed with thankfulness as she came off of her toes. She walked quickly from the studio. Her teacher was waiting outside.
"Grace, don't forget to tell Reagan about the time and day switch of Irish," the teacher told the girl.
"I promise I won't, Ms. Bovary, or my name isn't Grace Ella Spritener," Grace laughed in a high sweet Irish lilt.
She walked quickly from the hall into the pink dressing room of The School of Arts for the Gifted. Her best friend, Reagan, also took lessons here today but not dance. Reagan sat on the dressing room hot from a difficult fencing workout.
"Have fun, Ella?" the extremely tall tomboy asked in a voice smothered in sarcasm.
Grace shook her head in dismay. Ella was Grace's middle name, and it was all Reagan would call her. She didn't know how many times they had talked about it.
"Of course I did, Reagan. I was just about to ask the same of you."
Grace slipped off her pointe shoes and stuffed them into the blue bag beside of her. She quickly pulled on a pair of jazz pants and a t-shirt. She pulled her hair back into a French twist and clipped into place with a claw. She jammed her feet into the running shoes she had to wear when she went anywhere with Reagan.
"Grace you are such a girly-girl." Reagan said pulling her hair out of her fencing helmet. "You should wear your hair down. I would kill to have auburn hair like yours. You don't know how many people would die to have your glisten. It just doesn't make sense to put it up."
"Well your hair would look like this if you didn't get it cut so short." Grace pointed out to her friend.
"Whatever."
Grace was fifteen and still believed whole-heartedly in magic. She was five feet nine inches, and tall to most people except Reagan who was a startling six feet two inches. Reagan was extremely tom-boyish and Grace was a complete girly-girl.
Grace had heard several people call her the embodiment of femininity. She was graceful, lithe, and willowy. She loved dance and music. Grace was a wonderful student with good-looks. Her glowing Auburn hair hung straight down to her waist where it curled. She had the long lashes, dimpled cheeks, and pouting mouth of a goddess. Still guys avoided her and her group. They acted scared of the girls, especially Reagan.
"Ella! Wake up sleepy. I swear that you are always in dreamland!" Reagan yelled into Grace's ear.
"Ok Reagan, I'm awake. Are you Finally ready to go?" Grace questioned while grabbing her bag.
Reagan grabbed hers and walked smoothly out the door. Grace had to trot along behind her to keep up. Reagan almost flew everywhere she went, hence Grace's running shoes.
As the girls exited the building, they ran into an older teen, about nineteen. Dark brown hair accented creamy skin which in turn accented a well muscled body. He was hot. The only problem was his eyes. They were cold and hard, burning with the fire of intense hate.
"Watch where you're going next time girls, " he snapped, "especially you Edara McFey!" The man quickly stepped around the girls and walked briskly down the street.
Grace wondered how the guy had known Reagan's middle name, but she was more worried about the way Reagan was acting now that he had done so. Reagan stood with a statue-like stillness. She had her head cocked to one side as if she were thinking about where she had met him. Suddenly as though hit by lightening, Reagan's hand tightened on grace's. the next thing Grace knew, she was running down the street toward their homes.
"Reagan! What's wrong Reagan?" Grace yelled into the wind.
Reagan immediately stopped. She slowly turned to Grace. Her brow was crinkled in panic.
"Nothing is wrong, Ella. I just felt like running home, " Reagan spoke in a shaky voice.
Grace knew better, but decided not to pursue the problem at this time. "Oh, Ok. Let's go then, but let's walk." Grace finally said after a few moments of silence.
Reagan nodded and stared forward at her normal pace. Grace jogged along to keep up. They walked down the street in silence.
When they were a block form home grace spotted a group of guys walking in their direction. All of them were extremely hot, especially the one who seemed to be the leader.
One of the guys in the group spotted the girls and whispered into o the leader's ear. He looked up. Grace's violet eyes locked with his sparkling sapphire blue, making her shiver agreeably. His eyes were strong and passionate, full of emotion. Grace felt herself slowly turning pink as his eyes looked her over discreetly.
The guy smiled an award-winning smile and motioned his group to follow him. He was hot. His body was graceful, and well-muscled, but not overly. Grace had the distinct felling of power emanating from this black-headed figure.
Steps from them he stopped, his group running into one another. He swept a slow sweeping bow exyremely close to the ground, his eyes shining with laughter. He reached out to pick a daisy who was wafting in the wind. He straightened and handed the flower to Grace who stood blushing and speechless.
"Edara, I mean Reagan, how are you?" the words flew from his sensitive lips to Reagan who smiled at him. His deep voice rang with power and a strange and seductive accent.
"Fine, I suppose. I see you are okay, knight-in-shining armor " Reagan glanced at Grace who stood with her head bent and a pink tinge showing through her clear skin. "Looking for Doomor?" He nodded. "We ran into him back at the dance studio,"
"Really, we heard he was here. Whose the young godesslet?" the guy asked in a gallant tone peering from Grace back to Reagan with a questioning look on his face.
"Cole, this is Grace Ella Spritener. She goes by Ella," she said and Grace threw her a dirty look. " Ella this is Cole Conan McFey. He's my cousin from Ireland."
Cole smiled his dazzling smile at Grace. So that was what his strange accent was, Irish. Grace smiled back and took his extended hand. He bent and kissed it, his lips bareky touvhing her skin and lingering to add a lasting effect.
He stood and let go of Grace's hand. "This is my gang. Numair, Colin, Giff, Jonan, and Geoffrey," he spoke pointing to each as he said their names, but never taking his eyes of Grace's. "Fellas, this is my cousin Reagan Edara McFey and her friend Grace Ella Spritener.
Two of the guys turned to look at each other. Then they looked back at Grace in disbelief. Grace tried to ignore them as she turned to Cole. He looked at her then walked over. He put his arm around Grace's waist, their bodies touching. Grace's mind immediately went cloudy. She felt like she was in a dream world. Outside of her, she knew the group was talking.
"Is she really Ella, Edara?" Jonan asked.
"Of course she is you dolt. Why else would I be here with her?" Reagan answered impatiently.
Jonan slowly felt a blush creep up his neck. He quickly looked down at the ground. His friends noticed and laughed.
"Are you sure she can't hear us talking?" Cole asked peering into Grace's face.
"Absolutely, you put the dream spell on her and besides, she doesn't speak fairy like every other human!" Reagan exclaimed.
"She's not human though. She a fairy princess, a very powerful one, no matter if she knows it or not," Cole said.
"She isn't listening to us. Anyway, I'll help you look for Doomor after I drop Ella off at home. It's dangerous for her now. I'll meet you at the moor," Reagan spoke.
Cole lifted his arm off of her shoulder. She seemed to suddenly fall back to Earth. Reagan quickly covered for the abrupt fall back to reality that the spell caused.
"Grace, you did it again. She is always off in dreamland!" Reagan exclaimed to the group.
Grace blushed. "Shouldn't we be going now?" Grace asked, her face lowered.
"Of course, Ella. Bye Cole. Bye guys. Be careful," Reagan waved and the two girls started off down the street.
Reagan's brow was furled and with every rustle of a leaf she jumped. Grace thought it would be best not to talk. Reagan might have a heart attack, so Grace just decided to enjoy the scenery of her nice quiet neighborhood. She totally forgot about the man Reagan and Cole had called Doomor.
