Tales from Parallel Worlds

Tales from Parallel Worlds

A Collection of Faerie Tales and Adventure Stories

Jes Drew

Boo's Books Publishing

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2019 by Jes Drew

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2019

ISBN: 9798215935453

Boo’s Books Publishing https://agencyofbooksandspies.blogspot.com/

Cover design by Victoria Cooper

Logo and illustrations by Maddy Moore

Author Photograph by Amy S.

Edited by Katy Mauerman

Formatted by Atticus

This anthology is for the dedicated people who work at Polaris to fight against the evil that is human trafficking.

It is for all the little girls, boys, and everyone else who get swept into the destructive grip of that evil.

And it is for Jesus, the only One Who can truly heal us.

Contents

Orchid

1. Call of the Dryad

Sydney and Miranda

2. Merchants of Britain

Jane Delane Hood

3. Lone Wolf

Rapunzel

4. Dance of Royalty

5. Song of the Twelve

Genie and Serena

6. Game of Boo

7. Prophecy of Four

Acknowledgments

About the Author

About the Charity

Disclosure

Afterword

The Howling Twenties Trilogy

Genie and Serena, PIs (Paranormal Investigators)

The Clockwork FaerieTale Novellas

Masters of Their Fate

The Ninja and Hunter Series

The Castaways Trilogy

The Dystopian Takeover Trilogy

The Summers of Yesteryear Series

The Accidental Superhero Series

Kristian Clark and the Agency Trap

Kristian Clark and the American Agenda

Legends of the Master Spy

The New ESE Files

My Time in Amar

Also By

Winter Cursed

Of Dreams and Nightmares

Rage like the gods

1

Call of the Dryad

From the World of Fay and Monsters

Amesbury, England 1926

Almost got it . . .

Before I can catch the elusive Nymphalini Aglais, however, a woman's scream pierces the air— quite surprising me. My foot catches on a root, and I stumble into the litterfall. All the while, the Nymphaline Aglais flies happily away. I sigh.

Then the scream echoes through the forest once again.

I spring to my feet and hurry toward the source of the scream. Some damsel seems to be in danger.

I round a rather large oak and stop in my tracks when I see a redheaded wisp of a woman wearing a kneeduster that seems composed entirely of leaves and flowers— and even bark— batting away what appears to be angry, pointed leaves. The scene is so strange, yet something about it is familiar at the same time.

A maple leaf slashes at the lady's face, and she cries out before falling to the ground.

Snapping out of my daze, I remember my duties as a gentleman and hurry to swat at the leaves. "Shoo, now. Come back later when I can study you. Shoo."

The swarm disperses at this, and I turn to the woman on the ground. She's looking up at me through her tangled hair, her lips parted as if she isn't sure what to say.

I'm not sure either, since I've never rescued a damsel before, but Grandmother at least taught me what any gentleman should do, and that is to offer a hand. She takes it tentatively, and I pull her up to her feet.

Thank you. The woman pushes her hair out of her face, revealing her large, luminous eyes.

Luminous green eyes I've seen before.

As a boy of eight or nine, I fled into the forest to take refuge from the cruel world outside. A world full of mockers who loved to tease a boy cursed with horn-rimmed glasses.

Tears brimming behind those glasses, I threw myself at a tree and wrapped my arms around it, pretending it was a strong father comforting and protecting me.

"Why are you crying, little boy?"

Startled, I looked up and turned to find a little redhead girl staring at me with large, bright eyes.

I stare at the woman before me with those same eyes. Well, I'm glad I had the inexplicable desire to catch butterflies today of all days so I could . . . Find you again? I clear my throat, gathering my thoughts. Rescue you. Um, if you don't mind my asking, how long have you been . . . I gesture to the woods around us. Here?

Forever. She takes a small step back. A stumbling step.

Frowning, I move forward and hold my arms out to steady her. You're hurt.

She gasps and buries her face into her little hands. They chopped down my tree. My home.

My heart races at her words. Who did? I know what that means— or at least I knew. And it's very, very bad.

The other Fay— She takes another step and collapses.

I dive forward and catch her. I stare down at her half in shock that I made it in time and the other half of me in shock of what she just said. Words so similar to my childhood. So, you're a Fay?

She corrects me just like I knew she would. A dryad. But without my tree . . . Her head lulls to the side, and I feel her warmth seeping through my skin. Her heat.

You're feverish.

I need help— I need to face the creature who felled my tree—

You need medical attention . . . which I can help with. I have herbal remedies— Fay should respond to those too, I think— at my house.

Her head lulls to the other side. Please . . .

I adjust her in my arms. I'll help you. Just hold on . . .

I carry the hurt Fay woman into the cottage I share with Grandmother and up the stairs to my office.

Laying her on my work table, I hurry to my second—hand doctor's bag and open it, exposing the vials of herbal remedies I have been experimenting with.

You need . . . to help me, the woman gasps, tossing her head back and forth.

I am. Here, drink this for your fever. I gently slide my arm around her neck and lift her head before bringing a vial to her lips.

She opens her mouth, and I pour the brew down her throat. When she swallows, I lower her head again.

I jump back up. Now wait here while I go get some wet cloths—

Turning her head, she frowns at me as if wondering why I'd think she'd move.

Right. Never mind, old girl. I'll just be getting those rags now.

I watch as the salve does magical things. All the angry red welts are turning into light pink patches, and the swelling is greatly reducing the girl's wounds. The girl whose name I never caught.

Orchid, she offers weakly.

Staring at the little girl before me, I quickly wiped the tears away from underneath my glasses. What are you doing out here?

She turned her head to one side, and I saw all the twigs and leaves entwined in her red curls. Red curls that danced at the shoulder covered by the entwined stems of the two giant leaves that make up the strange toga-style dress she's wearing. Looking at you. What are you doing?

"Hiding."

"From what?"

"Bullies."

Her face twisted at the sound of that word. I don't like bullies.

"Me neither. I stepped forward and offered my hand to her. My name is Willie. What's yours?"

She stared down at the hand like she doesn't know what to do with it. I am called Orchid.

Orchid. I didn't know you were real. I-I thought you were just a make-believe friend.

She frowns at me, confused.

I clear my throat. "I mean, that— that's a beautiful name. Mine's William."

Orchid smiles. I remember you, Willie.

Is that your date for Charlie Summer's party? Grandmother adds, startling me by appearing in the doorway behind me.

I turn to face my grandmother. "I'm not going to Charlie Summer's party, Grandmother. I don't attend parties."