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Story spotlight: “Honeysuckle and Blue” by Karen L. Abrahamson, in Stolen by the Fae

“Honeysuckle and Blue,” by Karen L. Abrahamson, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

I should have paid more attention to what Posey said, but at the time I was just so relieved to find her.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over! How did you get out here?” The common room door had been locked when I came out.

Posey didn’t even look up. Warm sunlight filled the garden courtyard the air, so thick with honeysuckle it was like syrup. The riot of perfumed vines wound through wisteria and together they climbed a wooden trellis and garlanded the building eaves in purple and rose gold. Peonies bobbed their heavy white-and-pink heads on a breeze filled with the buzz of happy bees. Posey knelt in a patch of sun-warmed loamy soil amidst a riot of apricot and peach ranunculus, her palm outstretched and seemingly filled with sun.

She was a small woman, barely more than fine skin stretched over bird bones. The kind of thin you might see on a ballet dancer in their youth, but on the aged only screamed that their days were numbered. Some of the residents struggled against the inevitable as they wasted away. Others simply smiled as bits of them escaped with their memories. Posey was one of those. She always had a happy smile and the clearest blue eyes you could imagine. Incongruously, she had a luxurious head of white hair that the other care aides despaired of because of the amount of care that it required. They’d tried to convince Posey to let them cut it off, but she screamed when anyone came near her with a set of scissors. So, every morning we pulled her hair back into a braid and sometime during the day Posey would manage to release it.

Like now. The cascade of white hair tumbled down her narrow shoulders to pool around her hips and knees like a silver gown. Of course, the hair elastic was nowhere to be seen. In a way, she reminded me of my daughter—when she was five.

In a hurry to get her back to her unit, I crossed the courtyard pavers—and stopped.

“Posey, honey… what are you doing?”

By all rights she should have been in her room like everyone else was until they were called for lunch, but her upright palm held three bumble bees, that buzzed and—danced?

—from “Honeysuckle and Blue,” by Karen L. Abrahamson, in Stolen by the Fae

About Karen

Author of the century-spanning Cartographer Series, Karen L. Abrahamson writes fantasy, romance and mystery. Her short fiction has been short listed for the Derringers and Canadian Crime Writer’s Best Short Story. She lives in British Columbia, Canada with bears, bald eagles and the ocean for neighbours.

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Story spotlight: “Hunter by Night” by Annie Reed, in Stolen by the Fae

“Hunter by Night,” by Annie Reed, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

This particular pizzeria didn’t have wait staff. Probably one of the reasons the food was so reasonably priced. When your order was ready, the pizza chef called out your name and you went to the counter to pick up your slices.

The woman, whose name must have been Eliza—at least that’s the name the pizza chef called out for her order—left the little girl sitting at the table when she went to get their food. By this time the little girl’s hair was back in a bun and she didn’t look that much different from any other little kid waiting for her mom to bring back dinner.

Except for her somber expression.

Her mother had just picked up a large silver tray with two slices of pizza from the counter when a different woman, someone Colton had barely noticed, darted from her table so fast that her chair clattered to the floor behind her. She moved faster than she should have been able to, given her bent and overly solid middle-aged frame, and snatched the little girl from her chair.

The little girl screamed. Her mother screamed. But the woman who’d snatched the child just smiled, a horrible, self-satisfied smile that pulled her face into an expression no human could match.

A changeling, and Colton had never even noticed her.

Before the little girl’s mother—or Colton—could react, the changeling fled with the screaming child through the front door of the pizzeria and disappeared into the night.

—from “Hunter by Night,” by Annie Reed, in Stolen by the Fae

About Annie

A prolific and versatile writer, Annie’s a frequent contributor to both Fiction River and Pulphouse Fiction Magazine. Her recent work includes the near-future science fiction short novel In Dreams, the gritty urban fantasy novel Iris & Ivy, and the superhero novel Faster. Annie’s stories appear regularly on Tangent Online’s recommended reading lists, and “The Color of Guilt,” originally published in Fiction River: Hidden in Crime, was selected as one of The Best Crime and Mystery Stories 2016. She’s even had a story selected for inclusion in study materials for Japanese college entrance exams.

Annie also writes sweet romance under the name Liz McKnight, and is a founding member and contributor to the innovative Uncollected Anthology series of themed urban and contemporary fantasy anthologies.

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Story spotlight: “The Destroyer” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch, in Stolen by the Fae

“The Destroyer,” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

I discovered the house during one of my last crazy full moons. Nestled in the trees at the very edge of my twenty-acre territory, the house was small, white, with big windows and a large porch. In the back, a barn no longer used by cows, but still smelling of them, and to the side, a garage for a single car that seemed to be the only vehicle that used the dirt road.

I collapsed in old straw in that barn, beneath rotting eaves, and slept off wounds from my inadvertent partying. I was terrified by my own lack of control; I knew if I didn’t stop fighting over females, I would end up like the old black tom that I repeatedly chased off the hill. He had only one ear, no fur on that side of his head, and a white orb in place of his eye that occasionally oozed. He could still fight—and did, every full moon—but afterwards, he never seemed to recover.

He was in that barn too. Normally, just coming off the full-moon crazies, I would have killed him, but I was too tired. Besides, when I was myself, I rather liked him. That night, we actually talked like equals—alphas who worried about their prides. He confessed he had only seen two more summers than I had, that once he’d been as strong and powerful and terrifying as I was.

And then he said the thing that changed it all. He said, had he to do it again, he would take the Bargain.

The Bargain—offered, they say, only to what the humans call “feral” cats, not to the pampered indoor variety. Once a year, cats of a certain age—no less than two, no more than four—got to try being another creature for 24 hours. The easiest to become were the ones we knew: dogs, horses, cattle.

Human.

Only no feral cat chose human. Except the old black tom.

—from “The Destroyer,” by Kristine Kathryn Rusch, in Stolen by the Fae

About Kris

New York Times bestselling author Kristine Kathryn Rusch writes in almost every genre. Generally, she uses her real name (Rusch) for most of her writing. Under that name, she publishes bestselling science fiction and fantasy, award-winning mysteries, acclaimed mainstream fiction, controversial nonfiction, and the occasional romance. Her novels have made bestseller lists around the world and her short fiction has appeared in eighteen best of the year collections. She has won more than twenty-five awards for her fiction, including the Hugo, Le Prix Imaginales, the Asimov’s Readers Choice award, and the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine Readers Choice Award.

Publications from The Chicago Tribune to Booklist have included her Kris Nelscott mystery novels in their top-ten-best mystery novels of the year. The Nelscott books have received nominations for almost every award in the mystery field, including the best novel Edgar Award, and the Shamus Award.

She writes goofy romance novels as award-winner Kristine Grayson.

She also edits. Beginning with work at the innovative publishing company, Pulphouse, followed by her award-winning tenure at The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, she took fifteen years off before returning to editing with the original anthology series Fiction River, published by WMG Publishing. She acts as series editor with her husband, writer Dean Wesley Smith.

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Story spotlight: “Fairy Traps” by Leah R. Cutter, in Stolen by the Fae

“Fairy Traps,” by Leah R. Cutter, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

With a determined flit, Terrance flew over the tops of the lilacs and into Old Fairy Smithers’ yard.

Instantly, the odd shaped box in the center of the yard was clear.

It was a baby! A human baby! In one of those carriers they had to protect their young. Terrance thought it might be called a car seat, but he wasn’t sure. Fairies didn’t drive cars, didn’t need them—they could just fly or use magic to get wherever they needed to go.

Terrance flew over to the baby. Stupid thing grabbed at him with its chubby hands. He probably just appeared as a shiny golden light to it.

It had rosy cheeks and pale white skin. It tracked his movements with wide, blue-gray eyes. Soft wisps of red-gold hair covered its head. Black belts kept it strapped into the carrier, probably so it wouldn’t get into any mischief. It smelled of sweet milk and some sort of perfume that the humans used.

It kicked with its fat legs and waved its arms, then giggled again.

At least it was a happy baby and not screaming at the top of its lungs, unlike the babies he’d read about in the latest Encounters magazine, which was filled with fictional accounts of human-fairy interactions, many of them lurid or impossible.

But what was a baby doing here? Why did Old Fairy Smithers have a child, a human child, in the middle of her pristine backyard? Nestled neatly between the purple hyacinths and the creeping red sedum?

—from “Fairy Traps,” by Leah R. Cutter, in Stolen by the Fae

About Leah

Leah R. Cutter writes page-turning fiction in exotic locations, such as a magical New Orleans, the ancient Orient, Hungary, the Oregon coast, rural Kentucky, Seattle, Minneapolis, and many others.

She writes literary, fantasy, mystery, science fiction, and horror fiction. Her short fiction has been published in magazines like Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine and Talebones, anthologies like Fiction River, and on the web. Her long fiction has been published both by New York publishers as well as small presses.

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Story spotlight: “The Bonds of, Like, Sisterhood or Whatever” by Brigid Collins, in Stolen by the Fae

“The Bonds of, Like, Sisterhood or Whatever,” by Brigid Collins, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

From my trips by the high school this summer on my way to and from my swim class, I’m like a million percent certain that the portal I’ve been feeling is somewhere in the building. And from my little stop outside the auditorium earlier today to hit that sweet BotB signup sheet posted outside, I’m maybe a thousand percent sure it’s in the auditorium.

And man, when I tell that to Linn after we finish up dinner—totally burgers, score—her face just splits in this gleeful grin.

“It’s like serendipity,” she says as she fishes around in her guitar bag. When she straightens up again, she’s got her fingers curled around her key ring so it won’t jingle. “Over winter break last year, Tom snatched Mr. Schultz’s keys and made copies of the band room key for all of us. Sometimes they break in and hang out, but I’ve never used mine, yet.”

Then I’m the one wearing the face-splitting grin.

Our night of crime is so on.

We wait until Mom and Dad turn their lights out, then we enact the escape plan that’s been the most successful after years of refining. Climb out the bedroom window, shimmy down the corner of the house into the backyard garden. Leave the bikes in the garage because getting them out makes too much noise.

Walk in the free air of the night, baby!

Yeah, we’ve done this a whole bunch. I just like being out at night, Linn likes breaking the rules and getting away with it. Win-win!

The tingling under my shoes—tennis shoes now, since flip-flops are so impractical for covert ops—gets stronger as we move towards Roseville High. My heart is pounding, too, which, weird, because that hasn’t happened on any other nighttime excursions.

Then again, none of our other extra-legal activities have had the end-goal of me getting myself and my sister into the Fairy Realm, not to mention meeting our long-lost, kidnapped sister.

—from “The Bonds of, Like, Sisterhood or Whatever,” by Brigid Collins, in Stolen by the Fae

About Brigid

Brigid Collins is a fantasy and science fiction writer living in Michigan. Her fantasy series The Songbird River Chronicles and Winter’s Consort, her fun middle grade hijinks series The Sugimori Sisters, and her dark fairy tale novella Thorn and Thimble are available wherever books are sold. Her short stories have appeared in Fiction River, Feyland Tales, and Mercedes Lackey’s Valdemar anthologies.

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Story spotlight: “Estimated Value” by DeAnna Knippling, in Stolen by the Fae

“Estimated Value,” by DeAnna Knippling, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

“You said something last night after we went to sleep,” he said.

“I did not!”

“You talk in your sleep,” he pointed out.

“I do not!”

“You said, and you’re gonna want to take credit for this, that the fairies took the girl away. I gotta agree with you on this one. You said, ‘Fairies is old magic.’ I have never known you to lie while you’re talking in your sleep. So that’s what I think.”

“You don’t believe in fairies! You don’t even believe in ghosts!”

“I believe in ghosts,” he said, through a mouthful of eggs and sausage. He drank the coffee, then made a face. “Ghosts just don’t believe in me. Where’s the sugar?”

Marianne rolled her eyes as she got up and found, then refilled, the sugar bowl, a shimmering piece of carnival glass with grapes on it. “So now you believe in fairies. But they don’t believe in you.”

“That’s right,” Butler said. “Nothin’ weird ever happens to me personally. But it happens around the edges all the time. Peripheral-like. If you know what that word means,” he added, to stir her up.

She snorted. “I know what peripheral means.” She leaned back in her seat and rubbed the pad of her thumb over her fingernails.

“You going to the salon today?” he asked. “You stripped the varnish off your claws last night.”

She looked down at them. “Sure did, didn’t I? I don’t remember it. So let’s say the little girl went with the fairies, maybe she’s still with them, and she’s going to appear a hundred years later, no idea that any time passed at all. What good does that do anybody? Her mother will be dead. We’ll be dead. Nobody will find out what happened at all.”

—from “Estimated Value,” by DeAnna Knippling, in Stolen by the Fae

About DeAnna

DeAnna Knippling is always tempted to lie on her bios. Her favorite musician is Tom Waits, and her favorite author is Lewis Carroll. Her favorite monster is zombies. Her life goal is to remake her house in the image of the House on the Rock, or at least Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. You should buy her books. She promises that she’ll use the money wisely on bookshelves and secret doors. She lives in Florida and is the author of The House Without a Summer: A Gothic Novel, and other books like The Clockwork Alice, A Murder of Crows: Seventeen Tales of Monsters & the Macabre, and more.

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Story spotlight: “Family Fair and True” by Dayle A. Dermatis, in Stolen by the Fae

“Family Fair and True,” by Dayle A. Dermatis, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

My feet crunched over tiny snail shells as I descended, the air growing more moist and cold, and the darkness more complete. The weak moonlight couldn’t extend this far into the earth. I reached the bottom, breathing in the earthy scent of loam, and stopped.

I thought about why I was here, and what I wished for. I couldn’t go on if I had any doubts, any hesitation.

But this was what I had yearned for since I was old enough to understand what I was.

A plentyn cael . A changeling child.

My “parents,” Cerys and John (I couldn’t really call them my adoptive parents, as they’d had no choice in the matter), had brought home from the hospital a sweet, fair-haired baby and then found, shortly thereafter, a temperamental, black-haired thing in the crib. (The latter would be me.)

If they had tried any of the folk remedies to banish a changeling, they refused to tell me, but I couldn’t imagine that they didn’t make an attempt to get their real child back. Why wouldn’t they? Cerys was a professor of folklore and mythology at uni, and John was a renowned fantasy artist; they knew what had happened.

—from “Family Fair and True,” by Dayle A. Dermatis, in Stolen by the Fae

About Dayle

Dayle A. Dermatis is the author or coauthor of many novels (including snarky urban fantasy Ghosted and YA lesbian romance Beautiful Beast) and more than a hundred short stories in multiple genres, appearing in such venues as Fiction River, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, and DAW Books.

Called the mastermind behind the Uncollected Anthology project, she also edits anthologies, and her own short fiction has been lauded in many year’s best anthologies in erotica, mystery, and horror.

She lives in a historic English-style cottage with a tangled and fae back garden, in the wild greenscapes of the Pacific Northwest. In her spare time she follows Styx around the country and travels the world, which inspires her writing.

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Story spotlight: “Problem Child” by Tami Veldura, in Stolen by the Fae

“Problem Child,” by Tami Veldura, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

Pane nudged Kipt with one bony elbow. “You’re sure about this? It’s bigger than normal.”

“Big enough to count for two infants, I bet,” said Kipt. “And probably old enough that its head won’t flop around. Humans babies are oddly fragile.”

Pane glanced at the bed, then back to Kipt. “Well?”

“Quiet, I’m thinking.” Kipt had been drawn to stealing this child because of its size, but now that he was here, he had doubts. Faeries could draw the veil aside with a thought, but humans couldn’t even sense it, let alone move it. Infants could be brought across because they were small, like carrying a bag, but this child—a toddler, the humans called it—might be large enough to cause problems.

But he was behind on children and was sure this one would count for two, at least. It was worth trying, anyway.

Pane crept forward and lay the changeling down on the bed beside the human. It was smaller than the human, more bone and less fat. The changeling had grayish-green skin, Kipt had been told once, while humans ranged from pink to darkest black. To his eyes, this one was a medium brown. Like an opal. The two didn’t match, even in Kipt’s limited color vision.

The changeling wiggled to face the sleeping child and touched its face with long, thin fingers. All at once, its natural glamor took over, and suddenly there were twin human children on the bed.

“Ok,” Kipt said. “You grab the arms. I’ll grab the legs. Then we both draw the veil at the same time so we can bring it through.”

“I’m not sure—”

The human child’s face scrunched as it fussed in its sleep. The changeling mimicked it.

“Too late, grab the arms!”

—from “Problem Child,” by Tami Veldura, in Stolen by the Fae

About Tami

Tami Veldura is an enby/aro/ace author of queer fiction. They have published short stories in anthologies Fresh Starts, Hauntings, Love Among The Thorns, Love Is Like A Box Of Chocolates, Street Magic (a Diamond Quill Book Of The Year winner), the magazine Galaxy’s Edge, and they are a contributing member of the scifi magazine Boundary Shock Quarterly. They publish new work every month, crossing every genre, but always featuring queer characters and found families.

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Story spotlight: “Hybrid Vigor” by Olivia Wylie, in Stolen by the Fae

“Hybrid Vigor,” by Olivia Wylie, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

The examining room smells of chemicals and cold meat. Sometimes I wish my sense of smell was more Human.

The metal drawer slides open on its rollers. It’s designed to hold a full-grown man; the little body on it seems dwarfed by the expanse of metal.

Pulling on gloves, I lean in, studying the child. Patricia coughs nervously. “So, what do you think?”

“I think that a wrong’s been done here,” I murmur, “but I imagine you mean do I know who did it…”

Gently, I lift one eyelid. Eyes completely dilated. I was afraid of that.

“Let me guess, these children didn’t die from drowning.”

“True. We can’t figure out what actually was the cause of death, we’ve listed it as massive systemic failure.”

“Close enough.” I agree, surprised at the sound of my own voice. It’s gone cold.

Straightening, I glance up at Patricia. “And why didn’t you tell the police your suspicions?”

The coroner shrugs guiltily. “Well, the last time something weird came up…you were a hell of a lot more use, to be honest.”

I nod, but I don’t drop my gaze from hers. “You need to tell them about these. They need to learn to keep records on murderers who are not Human.”

Patricia nods, her eyes gone wide. She swallows hard.

“Um…if this is a murder, we might have a bigger problem.”

That pulls me up and no mistake. “Explain?”

Patricia taps her forms.

“Yolanda had a best friend, Monika. She’s still missing.”

—from “Hybrid Vigor,” by Olivia Wylie, in Stolen by the Fae

About Olivia

Olivia Wylie is a professional horticulturist, business owner, and bard who specializes in the restoration of neglected gardens. When the weather keeps her indoors, she enjoys exploring the plant world and the complexities of being human in writing. Under her shared pen-name of O.E. Tearmann, she writes the hopeful queer cyberpunk series Aces High, Jokers Wild. Her solo work focuses on illustrated works of ethnobotany, intended to make the intersection of human history, storytelling, and plant evolution accessible to a wider audience. She lives in Colorado with a very patient husband and a rather impatient cat.

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Story spotlight: The Replacement by Ron Collins, in Stolen by the Fae

“The Replacement,” by Ron Collins, appears in Stolen by the Fae, the 6th volume in the anthology series A Procession of Faeries.

Excerpt

“Hello,” I say as I head toward the front. “You doing all right, ma’am?” I don’t get many put-together businesswomen in the store at 1:54 a.m. On their own, my eyes glance out the window to see if her car is parked at a bay, but there’s nothing there.

She turns then.

Her amethyst eyes make starlight of their own, but a starlight that cuts as much as it illuminates.

“Bron,” she says.

I stop, broom dangling from my hand, knowing things will never be the same again.

No one has called me by that name for a long time.

“Who are you?” I reply.

She smiles and I see heartache and pain as deep as anything I’ve ever felt.

A wind blows outside.

A discarded plastic bag tumbles past in the barren scape of the asphalt veldt.

“Adelaide,” she replies as if that says it all. “My name is Adelaide.”

Her voice is smooth and deep for a woman.

That’s when I notice the green breeches that finish off her outfit. They fit tight to her body, dropping just below the knee where they fall into a pair of dark boots laced on their outside with equally dark rawhide. The pants are the color of pine trees in winter, embroidered with a silky pattern of swirls and leafy outlines that seem to squirm and shift under the store’s stark light. Her scent arrives then, rich with woodsmoke and the outdoors.

“Welcome to Pick-Pack, Adelaide,” I say.

—from “The Replacement,” by Ron Collins, in Stolen by the Fae

About Ron

Ron Collins is a best-selling Science Fiction and Dark Fantasy author who writes across the spectrum of speculative fiction. With his daughter, Brigid, he edited the anthology Face the Strange.

His short fiction has received a Writers of the Future prize. His short story “The White Game” was nominated for the Short Mystery Fiction Society’s 2016 Derringer Award.

He holds a degree in Mechanical Engineering and has worked to develop avionics systems, electronics, and information technology before chucking it all to write full-time.

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