Fairy World M.D.Boxed Set One
Tamara Grantham
Contents
Mirror Box
Dreamthief
Spellweaver
Bloodthorn
Also by Tamara Grantham
About the Author
Afterword
Also by Tamara Grantham
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Fairy World M.D. Boxed Set 1
Copyright ©2018 Tamara Grantham
All rights reserved.
Summary: From award-winning author Tamara Grantham comes a boxed set of the first three full-length Fairy World M.D. books. This set includes exclusive bonus content, and offers the reader a discount over purchasing each novel individually.
ISBN: 978-1-63422-346-1 (e-book)
Cover Design by: Marya Heidel
Typography by: Courtney Knight
Editing by: Cynthia Shepp
Mirror Box
“You’re not a real doctor, are you?” A man asked, looming over my desk.
I didn’t have time for another moron. Not today. I was busy. I’d gutted the perfect old-style clunky laptop and glued in the velvet lining. I was halfway done with my mirror box. What was so important he had to interrupt me?
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Benjamin Boltright. Your assistant.”
“Ah.”
“Will you answer my question. Are you really a doctor?”
“Technically yes, I graduated from medical school.”
“But what about the residency training afterward? You can’t get a job unless you’ve completed it, and you’re studying fairies and… this stuff.” He waved his arms around to encompass the computer lab turned workshop. Various statuettes—dragons, elves, pixies, Wults, and goblins—cluttered my table. They were in countless stages of completion. Some I’d had to trash altogether.
“Mr. Boltright,” I said, standing, hoping he saw I was serious despite my Count Chocula T-shirt, punky red locks cut in a pixie haircut, and bare feet. “If you don’t want to be here, then leave.”
“No.” He crossed his arms. “It’s my job to make sure this lab runs smoothly. I was told a doctor was studying here. To make sure you had what you needed. I didn’t realize that doctor was you.”
Picking up an empty cardboard box, he started putting my statuettes inside.
“That’s not necessary,” I said. He paused, pursing his lips, his eyes beady and hawk-like behind his horn-rimmed glasses.
“Fine,” he muttered, removing the statuette—a Wult—from his box. Turning away from me, he headed to the other end of the lab. He popped in his earbuds, then sat behind one of the only functioning computers. Good. I hoped he stayed out of my business.
I picked up the Wult statuette he’d been holding. This was the one I couldn’t get right. I’d used a dragon scale for the dragon, elven hair for the elf, a wisp of a feather for the pixie, and a bone sliver for the goblin. When it came to the Wult, nothing I’d used had reacted with my spell.
Placing the statuette on the desk, I sat and studied it.
I’d never been fond of Wults. They weren’t even a true Faythander species, which may’ve been the reason I was having so much trouble. They didn’t use magic, so my spells were negated every time I attempted a new enchantment. Maybe it would help if I knew more about them, but the few times I’d visited their home, Danegeld, I’d always gotten the impression they were overly fond of mead, loved killing things, and were talented at lewdness.
Picking up the pewter piece, I ran my fingers over the bearded man, his animal pelt coat, and his large horned helmet.
The little statue wasn’t true to real Wults in any way. I’d gotten this piece from a craft fair—one of those Viking chess pieces that was deeply discounted. Wults didn’t even wear horns to begin with. No wonder I was having so much trouble.
With a sigh, I placed the piece aside and grabbed my makeshift mirror box instead. Maybe if I changed gears, I’d think up something for the Viking chess piece turned hopeful Wult magical talisman.
I’d found the perfect sized mirror to place in the laptop’s screen, and with the use of my handy-dandy hot glue gun, made quick work of replacing the screen with a mirror. As I clicked the bottom of the screen into what had once been a keyboard, I couldn’t help but smile at my handiwork.
The mirrorbox wasn’t much to look at, but that wasn’t the point. This was a tool for helping to diagnose my patients. Once I got it properly spellcasted and the small matter of the non-functioning Wult piece sorted out, it would only take me a matter of minutes to allow my patients to relive their memories. They’d channel their thoughts through one of these statuettes, then when they placed their hand on the screen, they’d be able to recreate the events that took place in Faythander. Genius, really.
Just wished it worked.
I picked up the Viking again, my free hand thrumming my fingers on the desk top, deep in thought.
That was when it came to me. What if I used earth magic? The Wults’ ancestors were Vikings, and though they didn’t use earth magic, it was as close as it got.
I wasn’t proficient at earth magic in the least. But this should be a simple spell. Why not?
Because it could backfire and blow up in your face. Is that a good reason why not? Albert Einstein said.
Always the voice of reason, Albert Einstein had been a voice in my head for who knew how long. He represented my rational side. At the other end of the spectrum, the voice of Bill Clinton spoke up, representing my emotions.
So I’d given the two warring aspects of my consciousness names. So what? There were weirder people out there. I was pretty sure…
Taking a deep breath, I held the Viking statue on my palm. Conjuring earth magic was a pain. It never came when I called it.
