The Pixie Queen

Table of Contents

Title Page

The Pixie Queen

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Other Books by Susan V. Vaughn

The Pixie Queen

Susan V. Vaughn

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this stripped book.

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The Pixie Queen

Copyright © 2016 Susan Vaughn

All rights reserved.]

ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-939590-85-5

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Inkspell Publishing

5764 Woodbine

Pinckney, MI 48169

Edited By JoSelle Vanderhooft

Cover art By Najla Qamber

You can visit us at www.inkspellpublishing.com

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.  Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Dedication

To my daughter, Molly.

The day you were born the world became a brighter, happier place. Always live life with your eyes open, your heart free, and know that being yourself is the most magical thing on Earth. I love you.

Chapter 1

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Jane Hensley put on her favorite flowy, white skirt. The one that rested mid-knee and showcased the curviest part of her skinny legs. She pulled on the tightest tank top she had in her closet, which took an extra bit of tugging, but it was worth it. It was blue with spaghetti straps and flattered her shapeless figure. Today she was sixteen.

She twirled around in front of the floor-length mirror in her room slowly, inspecting every angle of her tiny physique. It didn’t take long for her to frown. Her legs were too stringy, her chest too flat, and there was no indent between her waist and her hips. She had gotten her monthly curse over a year ago, yet her body had not filled out. Today she may have turned sixteen, but her build was still that of a twelve-year-old.

She swallowed hard to control her disappointment. Nature meant for her to be plain. She stood several inches under the other girls in her high school. Her eyes were large but the color of mud. Her hair was long and wavy but toned a forgettable dark blond. Until now...

A large brown bath towel was secured tightly around her head, hiding her secret. It overpowered her face and made her high cheekbones more prominent. Jane’s mother might have been genetically blessed, but she was not. She was her father’s ugly duckling.

Duck, her father called, knocking on her door. It’s time for dinner!

I’ll be there in a second, Dad. Jane sighed, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue. Her father wasn’t a patient man. When dinner was ready, it was ready. When he wanted something done, it had better be done. Don Hensley owned his own bait-and-tackle shop in their small town of Caseville, Michigan, and spent hours either working there or fishing out on Lake Huron. He didn’t have time to deal with a teenager’s attitude. Not that Jane ever gave him attitude or was a normal teenage girl in any way. She was quiet, respectful, and most importantly, always prompt. If her father told her to do something, she would do it, no questions asked. But today was her sixteenth birthday. Today of all days she wanted to take her time.

Five minutes, Duck, her father responded, knocking his fist against the door in polite warning. This was as kind as her father was going to get. She would not waste the five minutes being idle.

Jane quickly unwrapped the towel from her head with shaking fingers. Her heart was in her throat. Cherry strands of wet hair cascaded around her face and came to rest on her shoulders. Everywhere the crimson locks fell, they brightened her skin to golden—as if it had been touched by the sun. The freckles on her face stood out. The dark lashes around her eyes became more pronounced, and her eyes were no longer muddy. They were a shining green. All in all, a striking change.

For the first time in sixteen years, Jane smiled at her appearance. This was it, the transformation she had been waiting for. She knew it wouldn’t come in the form of feminine curves. She knew she wouldn’t grow inches overnight. She yearned for those things to come true, but logically, she knew better than to hope. That was why she bought the box of red hair dye months ago. Just in case her body didn’t change, just in case her curves didn’t come. She’d fantasized about her sixteenth birthday her whole life and knew this was the day everything would change. Plain Jane, the ugly duckling, was now dead. Jane Hensley, the mystic fire goddess, had been born.

Three minutes, Duck, her father bellowed up the stairs. It was as if he knew what she was thinking, what she was trying to achieve, and was forcing that horrible nickname down her throat. To remind her that no matter what, she would always be plain Jane, she would always be an ugly duck. That there was nothing she could do to escape the label he had thrust upon her.

She grabbed her hair dryer and defiantly turned it on. The old Jane would have immediately run downstairs to be three minutes early for dinner. To obey her father’s orders like the obedient daughter she was. Instead she tipped her head forward and dried her hair upside down, knowing she would be several minutes late. Her hair was thick and flowed halfway down her back. The process would take a while.

Her heart raced with both excitement and dread. Dread that she was disobeying her father’s orders so deliberately. Excitement that she had made a transformation so daring. It was like a death in a way, making such a change—letting go of who she was, what she had always known. Plain Jane was a quiet observer of life and nature. She loved to read. She loved to daydream. She could count her friends on one fist—meaning she had none. She was a loner with mousy hair and muddy eyes. She blended into the background.

Jane flipped her head up. Striking apple strands glossed around her shoulders in unruly waves, like a restless sea covered in blood. There is no blending into the background with this hair, Jane thought. She was born sixteen years ago, but today she had been rebirthed in color.

Out of the shadows the ugly duckling finally emerges, Jane whispered.

She twirled around in front of the mirror again. Her legs still looked like stringy spaghetti, and her chest was still an ironing board, but her crimson hair was both daring and bold. She twirled faster and faster, watching her hair flow in the breeze she created and wrap around her face. She was floating in a red storm of change. The thought made her not only smile, but laugh. When she closed her eyes and spun, she could feel everywhere the silky strands touched her skin. And it was like receiving a blessing of fire.

Fire is passion, vigor, and spirit, Jane chanted while she turned. The words seeped into her head as naturally as breathing. When the verses came to her, she knew there was magic in them—knew it because she sensed a sudden connection to something she could not see but felt was powerful. Her spine would tingle with awareness, and something strange would happen. Nature itself seemed to respond.

Fire is energy, intensity, and excitement.

A distant roll of thunder responded to her words. She was not surprised by the stormy sound, even though only moments before, the sun had been shining through her window. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky all day. Jane knew if she opened her eyes now, the sky would be dark, and there would be rain. But she didn’t open her eyes; she didn’t stop spinning. The power she felt in the air around her made her smile.

I am fire. Fire is me.

Lightning lit up the room, and rain pelted her window. She knew if she opened her eyes now, her reflection would have transformed. Maybe she had grown those inches. Maybe curves now graced her figure. It was her sixteenth birthday. Maybe today, her magic would finally alter more than a few insignificant things in nature. Maybe she finally possessed the power to change herself.

Duck! It’s been ten minutes! If you don’t come down here right now, you will be eating your birthday dinner alone.

Jane stopped spinning and opened her eyes. She saw her skinny legs first, her girlish, flat chest next, and that was it. She pulled her gaze away and turned toward the door. Her crimson locks were not enough to transform plain Jane into a woman. She received the disappointment like a bullet to the heart. And for the second time on her sixteenth birthday, she had to fight back tears. Tears over something as superficial as her image. Something she despised other girls in her class for obsessing over. Why did she have to care so much about something so insignificant? She wouldn’t have flaunted her new curves for boys’ attention. She was too introverted to be so brazen. There was no true fire in her soul. No heat from the element in her blood.

The rain stopped pelting the window as she opened her bedroom door. The thunder still rumbled, but it sounded so distant—almost like a dream. She wasn’t surprised that the sun was already out to greet her when she got to the kitchen. Her magic never lasted long. If she could even call it magic at all. The connection she felt could be only in her head, after all. Just like the stories she wrote in her journal, where her overactive imagination ran wild.

There you are, Duck. Her father was seated at the kitchen table, already eating dinner—venison burgers layered with bacon and blue cheese. Jane tried not to gag or cry as the smell of dear meat burned her nose. Her father had made her meat. Meat! On her birthday of all days, despite knowing his daughter had been a vegetarian for years. Or did he know? Jane had told him, but he never seemed to hear her voice because she was too quiet. During most dinners she pushed the meat aside and ate only the vegetables on her plate, and he never commented—unless it had to do with what he was eating or when he could go back to fishing.

Hello, Father. She sat down in the chair across from him and pushed her plate away. If her dad noticed the revulsion on her face from smelling the meat, he did not comment. Instead his brown eyes found her new hair color, and the expression on his face was a mixture of amusement and fascination.

Wow, Duck, what a statement. He whistled low and shook his head. What made you want to go red?

I guess I just needed a change. She shrugged, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. Her father might have noticed her red hair, but it didn’t stop him from calling her Duck. In his eyes, she would always be plain—and ugly.

I guess so. He chuckled with amusement and took a large bite of his burger. Jane tried not to blow chunks watching the meat grind into little shreds between his teeth. She was reminded of the large doe she saw on their deck this morning. Her golden coat had shimmered against the sun. When Jane opened the doorwall for a closer look, the deer craned her graceful, long neck, and her soulful, dark eyes found Jane’s. The gentleness in those opaque eyes gave her courage to stoke the animal’s fur. When her fingers touched the coat, it was both wiry and soft. The doe held Jane’s gaze and made a gentle noise that was almost a purr. Jane had always had a gift with animals, but this was the first time a deer had allowed her to touch it. In that moment she felt the gentle wisdom of the deer enter her heart and strengthen her soul.

You took pretty long getting down here, Duck, her father said between bites. I was hoping we could eat your birthday dinner together, but I already have to get back to work.

Jane nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt like crying, remembering the gentleness of the doe this morning and knowing her birthday meal consisted of the animal’s relative. She was angry at her father for not taking into consideration her love for animals, especially on her birthday. But more than that, she was angry he couldn’t skip one day of work, even for her.

Now don’t pout, Duck. This is your fault, after all. Her father wiped the crumbs of his burger off his mouth with the back of his sleeve. I told you to come down over ten minutes ago.

I know, Father, she answered in her usual small voice. There was no use arguing with him, not when he didn’t have time to argue back and he didn’t have time to care. I’m not pouting. I understand my mistake.

Good. He smiled and patted her shoulder hard, as if she were the son he’d always wanted.

Will you be working late again, Father? Jane asked, if only to distract herself from breaking apart. This was not how she wanted her sixteenth birthday to go.

I close at ten in the summer, Duck. You know that already.

She knew what time he closed, but she was hoping for an exception. Spending her birthday night alone was not something she looked forward to. I was just hoping—

Ten, Duck, her father reminded her in a stern tone and then stood up. If you’re looking for some company, why don’t you call some of your classmates?

Jane nodded and tried not to make a face. She went to a small school with only about twenty kids in her grade. And all of them thought she was a freak. There was no calling those friends no matter what. Tonight like every night, Jane would be spending time with the characters she wrote about in her journal.

Cheer up, Duck, he added, grabbing two brown boxes from the counter behind him. I’ve got time to at least watch you open your gifts.

Gifts? She sat up straighter in her seat. Her father had never given her a birthday present before, let alone two. And although neither of the boxes were wrapped, the gifts were so unexpected, she almost cried.

That’s right. You’re sixteen now, a birthday to remember. He handed her the smaller of the two boxes. This one is from me.

Jane held on to the box as if it were a precious gem. She was even more touched that he remembered this birthday was important to her. Because of this, whatever her father bought would be special. That was why she was able to keep the tears from her eyes when she opened the box and found the latest iPhone. It was a gift any other girl or boy her age would be thrilled about.

Wow, she said in her most unenthusiastic tone. Didn’t her dad know her at all? Jane hated social media, despised the Internet, and wanted no part of becoming a zombie like the rest of her classmates. Thanks, Dad.

No problem. The smile on her father’s face proved he not only didn’t know her, but he didn’t care to. I figure you’re a teenager, it’s time to act like one.

She hid a grimace. Maybe her father knew her after all. He just didn’t want her to be so out of touch, and so much of a loser. The tears crept into her eyes again.