Bound by the Mist (Mists of Eria) Read Free Page B

course of action, she rose from the bed and phoned the little boutique and gift shop where she worked. It wasn’t much of a stretch to sound sick. After she clicked off the phone, she booted up her computer. Sleep would have to wait while she did a little investigative work. Answers came first because ignoring the past apparently wasn’t working. She would prove to herself she wasn’t delusional.
    ***
    Cal, against her better judgment, stopped in front of the brick façade of the Mists of Avalon bookstore. Her little Internet search of the week before, though informative, hadn’t truly shed any light on her situation. Desperate for an answer, she felt compelled to come here. She didn’t hold out much hope of discovering one at this place, but she wouldn’t be able to rest until she knew.
    According to Maggie, the community recognized the store for its wide selection of all things fantastical. And Maggie would know, wouldn’t she? She’d lived here all her life. The owner was reputed to be missing more than a few brain cells, though, so many avoided the place.
    Cal hesitated, but the last grip of hot August air made the decision for her. She pushed the door open, and bells jingled.
    The smell of old books hit her nose and caused it to twitch. Great, her allergies were flaring up. She rubbed the back of her hand against the offending itch. Still, the place had an offbeat charm to it with knickknacks scattered around and incense softly burning. A short, plump woman smiled at her from behind a desk where an old-fashioned cash register stood. Her lightly lined face and silvery-blue hair made her look like perfect grandmother material. Cal offered a small smile in return.
    Surprisingly, quite a few people milled around in the aisles. This assortment included young college students in t-shirts and jeans to elderly churchgoers dressed in their Sunday best.
    At the back of the store, she found herself in a section entitled “Elves, Faeries, and other such Creatures .” Looking over the selection of titles, she didn’t know where to begin. She grimaced. Somewhere, anywhere—just take the first step. Plus, since it was the weekend, she’d finished her shift at work and didn’t want to go home. If she went home, she would sleep. If she slept she would dream, and that was too disturbing to contemplate right now.
    She rubbed her tired eyes and reached out to pick a title at random. The small print of the pages caused her to squint while she flipped through the book for a few minutes, pausing now and then to read a promising passage. Her endeavor was impossible. The words blurred together. After snapping the book closed, she slid the tome back where it belonged. She wiped at her eyes again and grabbed another book. Then another. And still no real answers.
    Cal closed her eyes and leaned against the bookcase. A strong reference point to guide her, to tell her what was believable or not, would’ve been nice. She scoffed at herself. As if there would be such a thing for this. A neat and tidy book to wrap up all details. This wasn’t one of her classes. She couldn’t treat it as a research project to tackle and wrap up all prettily. What did she expect because, really, how common was her situation?
    Her Internet search had turned up such names as ljósálfar, Tuatha de Danann, aos sí, and daoine sídhe. Were these mythical beings all the same? Did it even matter? Maybe all those years of therapy pointed to the truth—that she’d lost it long ago.
    Bending over, she picked up her bag to turn and leave when the old woman from behind the desk came up to her and spoke. “I see you were looking at books about elves, my dear? Did you find what you needed?” The woman’s sharp eyes watched her closely.
    Cal cringed mentally. She didn’t feel like talking, especially to an inquisitive stranger. “Very interesting stuff but not quite what I was looking for.”
    The woman gave a good-natured smile. “May I be of assistance? I’m