The Faerie Curses

Chapter Eleven: The Message

When we drew close enough to the motel, the first thing that I noticed was how empty it was. Seeing that it was probably the only motel for miles, there seemed to be barely anyone staying there. Then again, the place wasn't exactly a five star resort. The motel was small and low-budget, with aging walls that seemed to be gradually peeling away like layers of an old onion. It was resting against the base of a decently sized mountain, overlooking an endless landscape of trees. As for the parking lot, it was practically abandoned, with the exception of a desperately lost looking family of tourists. They had their van parked at the single pump of the motel's run down gas station.

"I swear we took the right exit." The father said to his wife and teenage daughter.

The wife looked frazzled and worried. "The right exit? We're in the middle of nowhere! Not to mention that our navigational system stopped working. We're probably going to have to hike all the way to Aunt Clarice's house."

The teenage girl seemed uninterested. Leaning against the car door, she pulled on her headphones and chewed some bubble gum.

"I hate vacations." She grumbled.

Glen snorted at the sight as we made our way towards a small tourist shop. Nestled next to the motel, I could see an OPEN sign flickering in the window, along with a light glowing from inside. Glen and I both simultaneously folded our wings, curling them up against our backs so that they looked less conspicuous. Then again, we still looked like freaks.

With a small pop, the teenage girl's gum plastered itself over her mouth as she stared at Glen and me with surprise. We kept walking. Her parents noticed us next, shooting us looks of disgust.

"I think they're lost too," The father muttered. "Except they must have wandered away from the circus."

I ignored him. Glen, on the other hand, didn't.

"Make sure to visit us at the big top!" He called over his shoulder. "We breathe fire out of our asses!"

I buried my face in my hands as the whole family stood there, looking honestly disturbed.

"Let's go," I groaned, grabbing Glen's arm and dragging him into the shop before he could get us in more trouble.

Once we entered, a cheery ding! filled the air. The shop was engulfed in tourist merchandise. There were Colorado magnets, coffee mugs, calendars and bumper stickers everywhere. It was a little nauseating. I meandered past a table full of snow globes, Glen right behind me.

His gaze flickered to the corner of the shop, where a security camera sat monitoring everything. Flicking his fingers, the camera spun around until it was facing the wall. I breathed a sigh of relief. We wouldn't be captured on the video feed. I peered around the shop, but I couldn't spot any T-shirts, pants, or even skirts.

"Do you see any clothes?" I asked Glen.

"Only some underwear with buffalos on them." He replied. "They actually look pretty fine-quality."

I rolled my eyes.

"Thanks, Glen. That's really helpful." I deadpanned.

I craned my neck, searching the shop for someone to ask. Behind all of the junk, I spotted a counter in the back. There was a bored looking employee sitting there, playing on his smart phone. He looked a few years older than I was. I braced myself as I approached him.

The guy hadn't noticed Glen and I. His head was still bent over some violent war game he was playing.

"Hi," I said, clearing my throat. "Do you know where we could find some clothes?"