“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
~Albert Einstein
Chapter 1
I’m cursed with bad luck. There were no spells or evil fairy godmothers involved in said curse, and although I know plenty of people with magical powers who had motive and opportunity, I’m certain they never placed a jinx on me. Yet my life always seems to follow one principle—if things can go wrong, they will. Murphy’s Law.
But I have one thing working in my favor.
Kull, my Viking warrior sidekick, somehow negates my bad fortune. I call it his dumb luck. Whenever things go wrong, he makes them right. I have no explanation for this.
I sat with the Wult scouts in the pixie land swamps. The bonfire popped sparks of red and orange as a slow-moving, moldy-smelling breeze gusted past. We’d been tracking Kull’s sister, Heidel, for two weeks. Several times I’d debated turning back, but Kull made me stay. I had no other reason to keep traveling with the Wults.
“There’s no blood in it,” Brodnik said, his hand fisted around a drumstick. “How can we eat flesh that’s burnt this way?” He pointed the charred drumstick at me. “She’s overcooked it.”
“Take it easy,” I replied. “I’m a doctor, not a chef.” Star Trek references went right over their heads, so using them gave me endless amounts of amusement.
“You’ve ruined the whole meal.”
Kull stiffened. “Hold your tongue, Brodnik. I won’t allow you to speak to her that way.”
“But we’ve been tracking all day. We need nourishment, and she’s spoiled the only game we were able to catch in these gods-forsaken swamps.”
“I said hold your tongue.”
Brodnik grumbled something, and then attempted to rip a piece of flesh from the bone with no luck.
I secretly took joy in watching Kull defend me.
“I think it tastes delicious,” Rolf said, a smile spreading across his boyish face. The firelight illuminated the patches of hair growing on his upper lip and chin.
“You would say that,” Brodnik replied. “This meat’s as edible as that fuzz on your face you call a beard.”
Rolf squared his shoulders. “It is a beard.”
Brodnik laughed.
“It is!”
“I’ve got more hair growing on my backside than you’ve got on your face, boy.”
Rolf leapt to his feet. “That’s not true.”
“No? Would you like me to prove it?”
Kull sat on the log beside me and gave me a quick smile as the two continued to argue. “Aren’t you glad you came?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” I attempted to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“Be honest.”
“Honestly? I would’ve left thirteen and a half days ago if not for you.”
He gave me a sly grin. “Then I am pleased you decided to stay.”
The argument finally died down when Brodnik revealed his backside and Rolf conceded without a fight. I had to agree with Rolf. I’d spent four years of my life in medical school, and we’d certainly studied some strange abnormalities—Brodnik’s backside was a prime specimen of hypertrichosis, or excessive hairiness anywhere on the human body. Including backsides.
It felt strange being here with these people and so far from home, although most times, I wasn’t sure where home was. I’d been raised by dragons in Faythander, though my mother was human and my father an elf. At the age of twelve, I’d moved in with my mom, but I’d never bonded with her. When I’d finished medical school, I’d spent a year in Boston and then found an apartment on Galveston Island. I’d lived there ever since. I managed to eke out a living by counseling people who’d traveled to this world—Faythander—and had returned to Earth with no memory of it. I’d never felt completely at home on Earth, though after spending two weeks with the Wults, I couldn’t wait to get back.
“You’re quiet,” Kull said.
“Sorry.” I attempted a smile. “I’m just tired.” Eyeing my meat, the flesh blackened and tasting of charcoal, I added, “And hungry.”
“It’s not your fault. Cissikins are infamous for being lean. We’ll find better game after we leave these lands.” He stared around the swamp as chirps and hoots of strange, unfamiliar creatures echoed off the inky pools of water surrounding us.
The pixies had warned us of this place. Not even they traveled here. These were the badlands. Many unlucky travelers had died here, which is why I only came here with Kull as my companion and good luck charm.
I eyed him. Was he more?
Kull’s face revealed no emotion as he gazed at the campfire flames, though I knew he was worried about his sister. Two weeks ago, he’d also admitted his love for me, though he hadn’t mentioned it since then. I didn’t push the subject—we both needed to work out our feelings—and psychologically speaking, the emotional impact of losing his sister would have been difficult for him to sort through. Best to wait it out.
I’d also never admitted my feelings to him.
I wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I did have a boyfriend back home—one that I needed to break up with before I confessed my emotions to Kull. Deep inside, I knew that I did love him. When I contemplated how much I wanted to care for him, grow old with him, and spend the rest of forever with him, the thought scared me a little. I’d never felt that way about anyone.
My thoughts were interrupted by shouting. I followed the source of the sounds and was surprised to see Mochazon, a pixie warrior I’d met not long ago, flying toward us. He was easily seven feet tall, although if not for his height and his shock of cotton-white hair, I doubted I would have spotted him—his black scales and scanty clothing provided excellent camouflage in the dark swamp. In his arms, he carried the body of a pixie woman whom I recognized immediately. Uli.
Uli had become my guide to help me find the Everblossom, and soon, I’d learned that she was more than
