Troll Or Derby, A Fairy Wicked Tale by Red Tash Page A

sweetly flapped his wings and tried to pull me upward.
    MamaBird caught me on her back. The flock swooped in, and there were wings and rain and flashes of lightning everywhere. In a moment, I was on the ground, in the wet sand, my parents staring open-mouthed from a distance as birds the size of camping trailers circled their only son. Lightning shot upward, into the sky.
    Yeah, I guess that was kind of a big deal. Biggie and I have been like brothers ever since. Honestly, I can’t understand what he means most of the time, but he seems to understand me, so I guess that’s enough. Thunderbirds are psychic. They’ve got to be.
    When he found me on the side of the road, I grasped hold of his wing at the shoulder-joint, and he rocketed into the sky, straight toward the starlight.
    “I gotta catch up with a girl, Biggie,” I said.
    He seemed to laugh, a few sparks crushing on the edge of his beak.
    “It’s not like that,” I said. “I think we’re connected—there’s some connection—”
    He was laughing for sure, then.
    “Aw, fudge it, Biggie! I just have to save her, and you gotta help me.”
    He dove hard, and I wrapped my legs around his torso as we tumbled through the night. I could see sunlight on the edge of the horizon.
    “Sunlight?” I asked. “It’s the middle of the night, how’s that even possible?”
    Biggie squawked.
    Inhale. I felt the direction in my mind. Telepathy? I may never know, as Biggie’s still not talking. But I followed my impulse, and breathed in, deeply.
    A thousand dawns broke inside me. I looked down at my hands, grasping Biggie hard around the neck. My skin glowed as if the sun were bursting to come through my pores. A stray dreadlock whipped across my forehead, and it glowed, too, imbued with light. I laughed, and a little cloud of light vapor rolled out my mouth and washed across my face. It felt warm, tickly, and I felt happy.
    “Oh, Biggie, what have you done?” I said. I was overjoyed, and terrified.
    To battle darkness, you must bring the light.
    “Yeah, thanks, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” I said. He was laughing again, sparks and sunshine of his own bursting out all over. Thunder boomed in our wake.
    And then he was landing in a harvested cornfield, across the Wabash from a foggy old place that smelled of leather and motor oil. A biker bar. I knew it well.
    I climbed off his back and jumped up and down, the power of that inner light filling me with so much energy, I thought I might go nuclear if I didn’t get it out. I spun in a circle, and a dust devil twirled around me before it took off on its own, headed west.
    “She’s coming, isn’t she, Biggie?”
    I turned, expecting him to squawk a reply, but he was gone. Typical Biggie.
    I ran across the river and into the Fog.
    “Harlow, my boy.” The voice sent a chill up my spine, despite the sunshine spell the Thunderbird had filled me with.
    I turned to face him. “Uncle Jag,” I said.
    Jag reached out, and I did my best not to flinch as he patted my cheek in a false gesture of love. Smiling, his dark and broken teeth loomed closer as he leaned in to whisper something. “Get your ass up on that stage and sing for your supper, you piece of trash.”
    I’m sure he thought he was degrading me, but it suited me fine. I was full of spunk and the tiny stage was the perfect position to watch who came and went.
    When Deb came crashing through the door an hour later on the arm of some ignorant son of a bitch named Moe, I’d already worked out my plan. I was taking a hell of a gamble on this girl, and I sure hoped she was who I thought she was.
    Otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it from Biggie.

Chapter Eleven
    Steal My Sunshine
    Deb

    His acrid breath, reeking of stale beer and cigarettes, hit as hard as his words. I clutched at the shower curtain, desperate to cover myself. He laughed.
    “Get your clothes on,” he said. “Come watch the show, and then we’ll talk.”
    I had no intention of going along with him, but