By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of
age. If you are under the age of 18, stop here.
There was no way she was awake.
Carrie figured she was having a dream because Tim was standing
in his living room talking to a Yeti with long, blond hair and a winged
Mothman.
Except the Yeti was no ape man and Mothman had the face of an
English fairy, all sharp angles and points. And wings.
And the Yeti kind of looked like Tim. Yeah, there definitely
seemed to be a family resemblance in the deep-set eyes, the high cheekbones
and the square jaw.
Damn. She must have hit her head harder than she’d thought in
the accident. And she definitely needed a vacation. Her job had finally
started to get to her.
“Carrie?”
“Uh huh.”
She heard Tim say something else but she couldn’t take her
eyes off those wings. They must be attached to the tight cotton sweater the
guy wore. They couldn’t be real.
But how the hell was he making them flap? And why the hell
would he be wearing them?
Walking over to the guy, she twirled her finger in the air and
damn, if the guy’s mouth didn’t quirk up at the corners before he did a slow
turn, stopping to give his wings a kind of a preening flutter when he had his
back to her.
Nope, those suckers weren’t attached to the sweater. They
actually poked through perfectly made slits in the fabric. They weren’t all
that big, each only about two feet across and maybe that long again. And they
were blue. Actually, they were the exact shade of the sweater he was wearing.
He was a few inches shorter than she was and he looked tiny
next to the other new guy.
The blond giant stared down at her.
“Hi.” Blondie held out his hand. “I’m Andy. This is Fry.”
She took his hand, wondering when she was going to see a
bug-eyed alien or the Loch Ness monster walk by. “Hi back. Carrie Benton.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Mothman held out his hand and she took it. Felt real enough.
Warm, soft skin. “Hello, Carrie.” Faint trace of an accent, a bit like Scotty
on Star Trek. Did that make him Irish? Scottish?
When he released her hand, she waggled her index finger in the
general direction of his shoulders. “Those wings are great. How did you make
those?”
The guy smiled, showing off shiny bright teeth and two pointed
fangs. Not huge vampire fangs, just sharply pointed canines. Wow, he really
went all out. Did he have those filed or did he glue them on?
He’d make a great cover for the Journal. She wondered
if he’d let her photograph him.
Not that she believed he was a real fairy. There were no such
things. This guy just had a little too much money and way too much time on
his hands.
Still… She walked around to check out his wings again.
“Carrie?”
She didn’t bother to glance up at Tim, just gave him a
distracted “Hmm?”
“You okay, babe?”
She smiled. “Fine. These are just too cool. How do you make
them move?”
When Fry didn’t answer, she glanced at him. He stared at her
with an enigmatic smile. Like he was trying to tell her something.
She blinked.
No. There was just no way. No way in hell.
“Carrie?”
She glanced over at Tim, who looked a little green around the
gills, his dark eyes shadowed.
And she was struck again by how tall he was. How tall both he
and Andy were.
Her gaze narrowed and blurred as she continued to stare.
God…damn. No, she really must have messed up her head. They
looked…like…
Oh, hell to the no. That was just whack.
