Fairy Metal Thunder (Songs of Magic, #1) (25 page)

“I can’t even think about chasing him,” Erin
said. “I’m about to collapse.”

“Me, too.”

They walked back up the alley together.

Mitch and Dred were busy with the crowd, who
advanced further into the alley now, taking pictures and begging
for autographs.

“I wonder if that dragon will be all over
YouTube tomorrow,” Erin said.

“It’d make a great video,” Jason said. “Maybe
you should write a song about it.”

“Maybe you should,” Erin replied. She
squeezed his hand, then went to check on Mitch and Dred. The fans
flooded around Jason, hugging him and taking pictures. He felt
dazed, but he managed to smile.

They dusted off their instruments and managed
to drive away as the fire department arrived. Dred’s van rode
uneven and bumpy now, after being quaked hard by her drum, but it
still drove.

They were quiet as they made their way out of
Minneapolis. Mitch played the Rolling Stones on the stereo, and
Dred didn’t stop him.

“Dragonslayers,” Grizlemor said, shaking his
head. He sat on the heap of pink-dusted instrument cases behind
them. “Queen Mab will have a new respect for you. Which isn’t
necessarily a good thing.”

“I told you guys the fairies were nothing to
worry about,” Jason said.

“You call getting attacking by a giant candy
dragon nothing to worry about?” Dred asked.

“Grizlemor,” Mitch said. “I’d like to ask you
a few things.”

“Such as?”

“Things about being a goblin, basically.”

“Ah. I happen to be a learned scholar on the
subject.” Grizlemor puffed his way from the back of the van to the
front. He sat on the dashboard, dangling his feet while he answered
Mitch and Dred’s questions about goblins, fairies, elves and
unicorn-dragons.

“How’s your back?” Erin asked Jason.
“Shouldn’t we go to a hospital?”

“Nope, I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” A
diagonal streak of pain burned across his back where the dragon had
clawed him. It did hurt, but he didn’t want to complain. He wanted
to get home.

Jason and Erin looked at each other, smiling.
He took her hand, and she let him hold it for a minute. Then she
slowly pulled away and gazed at the night outside her window. Her
reflection showed a confused look. She would be thinking about her
boyfriend, the one who was too busy shooting a German pizzeria
commercial to see her first show.

But she had kissed him, and Jason knew she
didn’t hate him. Far from it.

Jason closed his eyes. Despite the aching
wound in his back, he gradually dozed off as he rode home, and he
dreamed of fairies, and of music, and of Erin.

THE END

Watch for
Fairy Blues
(Songs of Magic, #2)
in December 2011.

Find more J.L.
Bryan books on Smashwords

J.L. Bryan
studied English literature
at the University of Georgia and at Oxford, with a focus on the
English Renaissance and the Romantic period. He also studied
screenwriting at UCLA. He enjoys remixing elements of paranormal,
supernatural, fantasy, horror and science fiction into new kinds of
stories. He is the author of The Paranormals trilogy (
Jenny
Pox
,
Tommy Nightmare
, and
Alexander Death
), the
biopunk sf novel
Helix
, and other works.
Fairy Metal
Thunder
is the first book in his new Songs of Magic series. He
lives in Atlanta with his wife Christina, one baby, two dogs, two
cats, and assorted attic squirrels. His website is
http://jlbryanbooks.com
. You
can also follow on him on
Twitter
or
Facebook
.

BEAUTIFUL DEMONS is Book One of the
Peachville High Demons Series.

In Peachville, even the cheerleaders have a
dark side…

Harper Madison isn’t like other girls. She
has extraordinary powers, but her inability to control them has
gotten her kicked from so many foster homes she’s lost count.
Shadowford Home is her last chance, and she hopes Peachville High
will be the fresh start she needs. But when evidence ties her to
the gruesome murder of a Demons cheerleader, Harper discovers this
small town has a big secret.

This is Your Last
Chance

Six foster homes in one year had to be some
kind of record. I ran my sapphire pendant along the silver chain
around my neck and looked out at the pine trees zooming past. Where
would they send me next?

“I don’t know what got into you, Harper,”
Mrs. Meeks said. Her hair shot out every which way and she wasn’t
wearing any makeup. The call to come pick me up probably came in
after she’d gone to bed for the night. “I can’t keep doing
this.”

I eyed her. Was she passing me off to another
case worker? Mrs. Meeks had been there with me from the beginning.
Since the fire. I didn’t want her to abandon me now.

“It was an accident,” I said. I sat up
straight in my seat and studied her tired face. I needed her to
believe me.

“An accident?” she said. Her voice took on
the shrill tone I had come to expect from her. “Mrs. Sanders said
you threw a lamp at her. How could that have been an accident,
Harper?”

“I didn’t exactly throw it,” I said. I bit my
lip. How could I possibly explain it to Mrs. Meeks? Or anyone for
that matter? One second I was arguing with Mrs. Sanders about a
party she wouldn’t let me go to and the next, well, everything in
the room that wasn’t nailed down was floating three inches in the
air. “It just sort of-”

“Sort of what? Threw itself.” Her face
contorted into an angry grimace. She didn’t believe me.

I sank into the leather seat and sighed. No
one ever believed me. Instead, they called me names like
‘
witch
‘ and ‘
freak
‘.

“Harper,” she said, her voice softening.
“I’ve always tried to place you in the very best foster homes in
the city. Places where I thought they would try to understand
your…” She searched for the word. “Your unique issues. But this
is the sixth foster home you’ve been kicked out of this year. And
with your history.” She glanced over at me and sighed heavily.
“It’s getting harder and harder to place you.”

My history.

I leaned my forehead against the window and
felt the cool glass against my skin. After everything I’d done, it
made sense that no one wanted me. I closed my eyes and remembered
the beautiful porcelain skin of my adopted mother, Jill. I never
meant to hurt anyone, especially not her.

“At this point, there’s no other choice,”
Mrs. Meeks said.

I opened my eyes and looked over at her. In
the light from the dashboard, she looked old. Worried. Angry. A
wave of nausea rolled over me.

“No other choice than what?”

She looked over and patted my leg with her
hand. Not a good sign.

“I’m taking you to a place called Shadowford
Home,” she said. “It’s in a town south of here. Peachville. And the
woman who runs it is well known for taking in girls who are
struggling in the regular system. Girls like you.”

There are no girls like me
, I thought.
“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Peachville is a small community. Very
different from Atlanta. I think it’ll be a good place for you.
Atlanta is just too big. Too full of opportunities to get in
trouble or get mixed up with the wrong crowd.” She pulled the car
off the interstate. From the looks of it, we were in the middle of
nowhere. “But I have to be completely honest with you, Harper. If
you can’t make it work at Shadowford, I’ll have no choice but to
take you to juvenile detention until you turn eighteen.”

I sat up. “What? You can’t be serious.”

A home for troubled girls was bad enough. I
certainly didn’t belong in juvie. I’d known people who had gone to
the one in Atlanta. It was practically like prison for teens.
Constant supervision. No freedom. Strict rules. My entire body
tensed just thinking about it.

“What did you expect?” she said. “Since you
were eight years old, I’ve placed you in foster home after foster
home, and you’ve been nothing but trouble for these families.
Throwing lamps. Breaking windows. Fires.”

“None of those things were my fault,” I said.
I could feel the stirring of anger and frustration deep in my
stomach. How dare she bring up the fire. I had only been eight when
that happened, and it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t!

Change rattled in the cup holder that sat
between us in the car. Quickly, I slammed my hand down over the top
of it. Not now, I begged.

Mrs. Meeks continued on, thankfully not
noticing the rattling noise. “It’s time you learned to take
responsibility for your actions,” she said. “Make things work at
Shadowford or you’ll go to juvenile detention for the next two
years. I’m sorry, but this is your last chance, Harper.”

Do Not Touch My
Things

We spent the night in a hotel just off the
interstate. First thing in the morning, we were back out on the
road, heading to Peachville, Georgia. I had never lived in a small
town before. Or a group home for that matter.

The light was shining through the thick pine
trees as we turned down an unmarked gravel road an hour later. “We
should be close,” Mrs. Meeks said.

A large, weather-worn sign that read
“Shadowford Plantation” came into view. I sat up straight and
peered through the dense trees. A winding red dirt road led back to
a clearing. Mrs. Meeks stopped the car at the top of the hill and
we both stared open-mouthed at the huge white plantation house
below.

Shadowford stood three stories tall with long
white columns running from the roof to the wraparound porch. Paint
flaked off the white walls and green ivy blanketed the sides of the
porch, as if nature was slowly reclaiming the house for itself.
Centered on the second floor level was a large balcony with a
wrought-iron railing. A girl with bright red hair stood on the
balcony. She waved toward us, then disappeared into the house.

As we drove the rest of the road up to the
house, a chill ran down my spine. There was something different
about this place I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The house
itself, though old, was breathtaking. But there was also something
dark about it. Unsettling. The house grew slowly larger, and my
stomach lurched. I wanted to tell Mrs. Meeks to turn around and
take me back to Atlanta. To juvenile detention if that was the only
option. This house was… what?

Evil
.

The word popped into my head and I shivered.
That was ridiculous. A house couldn’t be evil. It was just my
nerves getting to me.

A pretty middle-aged woman had stepped out
onto the porch. She wore a faded blue dress and her brown hair was
piled high in a messy bun at the top of her head. When I looked up
at her, she smiled. Her dark eyes were warm and kind, immediately
putting me at ease. I realized I’d been holding my breath, and I
exhaled. Maybe I had only imagined the creepy aura around this
place. Maybe everything was going to be alright.

I stepped out of the car and grabbed my bag
from the backseat.

“You must be Harper,” the woman said. She
walked over and gave me a gentle hug. “We’re so happy to have you
here at Shadowford.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m Ella Mae Hunt. I help Mrs. Shadowford
out quite a bit, so we’ll be gettin’ to know each other pretty
well.” She had a lilting southern accent that was sweet and
gentle.

Ella Mae took my bag and set it just outside
the front door. “I’ll give you a few minutes to say goodbye, and
then I’ll take you inside and introduce you to our other
girls.”

I walked over to Mrs. Meeks and she gave me a
big hug. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“Everything could be different for you here,”
she said. “Treat this like a fresh start. A clean slate.”

I squeezed her back briefly, then let go.
Maybe she was right and things really could be different here. A
new school in a new town. No one here knew my history.

“I’ll do my best,” I told her.

“I know you will.”

With a sad smile, she got in her car and
drove away. I watched until she disappeared from sight, then turned
to my new home. Ella Mae was waiting for me by the front door.

“I think you’ll really like it here,” she
said, opening the door to the big house. “Girls, come on down here
and meet Harper.”

Ella Mae’s voice echoed through the high
ceilings of the front hallway. Honey-colored wood floors shone
beneath her feet and a large staircase rose up to the second floor
landing. Three girls made their way down to us.

“This is Courtney James,” Ella Mae said. A
tall girl who looked to be slightly younger than me stepped forward
and held her hand out to me. Her long, straight blond hair lay over
her face, covering nearly the entire left side. She kept her head
down, her eyes on the floor. When I touched her hand, it was ice
cold and limp.

“I’m Agnes.” The redheaded girl I’d seen on
the balcony stepped out from behind Courtney and gave me a big
welcoming hug. Her eyes were light green and she seemed to smile
from within. I liked her immediately. “You’ll be in the room next
to mine,” she said. “I’m so excited to have another house-mate
here, you have no idea. Where are you coming from?”

“Atlanta.”

“Oh cool, I’ve never been to Atlanta. In
fact, Peachville’s even bigger than the crappy town where I was
born, and believe me, that’s saying a lot.”