Fairy Tale: Winter's Bite

Chapter 9: Famous Last Words (Part 1)

By two in the morning, Joe's eyes were getting heavy. He was about to wake Chris—who after bits and pieces of restless sleep in tight quarters had Modified and disappeared beneath his pile of clothes—when Joe felt movement in his breast pocket.

"Cassie, are you awake?" He pointed his whisper toward his shoulder.

Her tiny hands pulled down the edge of the pocket and her head popped out. "Yes. The children are finally asleep, though."

"Do you mind keeping me company? I can drive a little longer if I have someone to talk to."

"All right."

Joe helped her out and placed her on his shoulder. She teetered for a moment and then sat with her legs dangling against the flannel shirt.

Once she was settled, Joe took in a deep breath that hitched and shook on its way out. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something anyway."

"Sounds serious."

"It is . . . but it's not. . ."

"Go on," she urged.

"Well, I can't believe I'm admitting this, but Chris was right. I'm sorry for what I said earlier about your past. I've met people who've had some pretty messed-up things happen to them. But how could what you've been through even compare, right? So when you're ready to talk about it, I'd like to be there for you, all jokes aside, of course."

"I appreciate the apology," she responded. "Honestly, I'm used to the inquiries about my past. The questions don't bother me anymore. The answers to those questions, however, are best left unsaid."

Since she didn't seem upset, Joe's jovial disposition returned. "Understood. Okay, Princess, we'll keep things light for the moment. Can I ask you something slightly less intrusive?"

"I . . ." She hesitated. "I suppose that would be acceptable."

"Brace yourself for this. How old are you?"

Joe had been meaning to ask her when the time was right, because he couldn't put an approximate number on her age, and that frustrated him. She looked like a mid-to-late teenager, petite even among the petite, but all other evidence—her language, knowledge, and poise—suggested otherwise. He thought fairies might age differently, too. Perhaps they lived longer or always looked young. Did they live forever? Die of disease or old age like humans did?

"That was a disappointing question," Cassie said, "but I'm not going to give you the opportunity to redeem yourself. I turned twenty on December 6th."

"Twenty whole years old!" he mocked. "And I thought you didn't look a day over sixteen."

He spied a subtle smile on her face in the rearview mirror even though she tried to curtail it by biting her lip. To him that meant she had a sense of humor. It was ever so slight, but it was there, and something he could work with. And then Joe started counting.

"So what's the difference?" she asked unexpectedly, just when he came up with the number.

He was confused, caught off guard, and that was a rare occurrence. "What difference?"

"What's the difference between our ages? I could tell you were doing simple math in your head."

How did she know that? "Was not."

"Yes, you were."

"Prove it," he challenged, but she didn't rise to it. "Fine," Joe conceded to end their stalemate. "You win. It's five years, seven months, and nine days. I turned twenty-five on July 15th."