by Chris Hewitt
Tucked off the main thoroughfare, Faerie Things boasted an extensive range of fae ingredients for the magical connoisseur. The soft tinkle of bells announced Peri’s arrival.
“Can I help?” asked the rotund proprietor.
“Do you have any Faerie wings,” Peri whispered.
The shopkeeper licked his lips and locked the door. “What’re you after?”
“Do you have any silver sprite?”
“As it happens, I do. Fresh in this morning.” The shopkeeper grinned, rummaged behind the counter and produced two tiny iridescent wings—their bloody stumps confirmed Peri’s worst fears.
“Sister!” she cried, her illusion failing as anger took over.