How does it feel? (Infatuated Fae Book 1)
How does it feel? – Chapter 5

Callie

For as in shape as I was from all of the hiking, I was still just out of shape enough that the monthly refill was every bit as hard as it had been the month prior, and the month prior to that. One of these times, it would get easier, I just knew it.

It was still early morning. The beautiful birds chirped and sang their happy wake-up call of tweets and twirls. The grass held drops of dew along with the orange blanket of a rising sun. The unmistakably crisp morning scent clung to the air like a promise, a whisper of fresh starts and pine.

I was attempting to quickly refill the various animal feeders I had placed across my property upon moving in. The fifty-pound bag of corn felt closer to three hundred pounds after all was said and done. I had finally arrived at the large black barrel resting upon the far back edge of my property. Without the off-roaders to drive like at the park, I had felt the burn of the short hike more than I cared to admit.

“Holy stars, I need to start working out,” I reprimanded myself as I tossed the feeder’s lid aside and ripped open the woven plastic bag of feeder corn.

I needed to be quick if I was to be back at the house in time for Cliff to pick me up for work. A call from Don at the repair shop last night solidified any regrets I held for spending every penny of my paycheck on a field microscope and getting a “deal of a lifetime” on my old used truck. I should return the microscope. I knew I ought to, but would I? Heck no, I wouldn’t. Because that baby was going to help me solidify my place among the Lepidoptera Migratory Society (okay, can we just agree to call it LMS from here on? That’s quite a mouthful.) and follow my dreams.

After dumping the bag of dried corn into the feeder, I replaced the lid. It locked into place, and I swatted away the barrage of dusty corn smoke that clouded my vision. All the deer feeders were stocked, the bee feeders hung, the hummingbird feeders refilled, and the bird feeders all loaded. Everything should be fed. All that was left was to quickly water my bird baths. I turned to head toward the back of my house, where the spigot was located, when I stilled.

No more than seven feet from where I froze stood the most beautiful red fox.

It was small but proportionate, its slim body giving the cute fluffy illusion of a house cat or pet dog. A large fluffy black-tipped tail, so full of fur it almost looked out of place, hung from the back of its smooth orange-red body. Small black paws completed the adorable ensemble of fur leading up to its fluffy head and pointy black ears.

My breath caught in my chest.

The air felt like it would rip through my sternum if it couldn’t locate an exit from my body. This fox’s features were unlike any fox species I knew, and I knew them all. A fluffy white patch of chest fur was shelved by a slyly pointed V-shaped nose. Black whiskers and a wet black nose at the end. Normal enough. But it was the eyes. Something about the creature’s eyes seemed to speak to me in a language I wasn’t fluent in. It watched me completely flat and motionless. Those golden eyes never once wavered from mine. They weren’t just golden, they were every shade of yellow and brass ever known. The sharp eyes of liquid honey held mine, and for a blip in time, I felt a sense of familiarity, but the feeling was gone before I could pull anything further from it.

Foxes were not generally a predator of humans and were known to be quite skittish. The only time anyone came into contact with the sly fox was usually as it tried to steal their chickens or had gone rabid.

The dappled morning sun had begun to grow stronger and brighter. The amber glow shifted ever so slightly, or had the wind in the treetops picked up? Whatever the reason, it had caused the morning sun to shine directly on the back half of the beautiful fox, where another startling discovery awaited.

A million tiny fragments of gold seemed to reflect and sparkle from its fur as if golden shards of glass blanketed the mysterious fox. How could that be? How was the light producing that effect? On fur no less?

My knees trembled furiously, and I was forced to shift my body weight to lock them in place so I didn’t fall over. My small movement had already happened when I quickly froze. Afraid my movements would scare this . . . thing away. I was breathing so intentionally that the act caused my eyesight and head to shift slightly. I immediately reprimanded my body for having such an aggressive pulse.

I watched and waited. Silently readying myself for the exhale I would take when the fox would inevitably scamper off, startled by my movements in a flurry of red.

Instead, the fox sat.

It sat like a proper, elegant fox would sit as it wrapped its large fluffy tail around the side of its round black feet. The sunlight blanketed every hair on the magnificent creature’s trim body, and every one of those hairs glimmered in the light as if someone had thrown a jar of gold dust on it. I reached up slowly and rubbed my eyes to refocus them. Surely it would run from my movements now? What was this thing? A sparkle of awareness gleamed in the creature’s beautiful eyes as it tracked my body, starting at my eyes and trailing down to my feet slowly.

I would have bet my entire house with everything in it that the fox smiled at me. Like it was laughing at me. My mouth fell open, unsure whether to be startled or in awe of the beautiful creature.

It took a step forward. It was coming closer.

My heartbeat began to pick up its pace. What should I do? Was I crazy? Was this some new fox genus?

Was I crazy?

Could foxes sparkle and smile at you?

Was I imagining this?

I was about to replace out. The fox took another slow step toward me.

“Callie, do you need any help?” Cliff’s loud voice rippled through the woods as its owner walked into the clearing.

I looked from Cliff back to the fox, readying myself to shout at Cliff to be quiet and look, but it was too late.

The fox was gone. Only the tiniest bit of black tail remained visible in the far-off brush.

“Oh, you already got it?” Cliff motioned to the empty plastic tub I held as I continued to play back what I had just witnessed, frozen in shock.

“Yea, thanks,” I murmured, still partially dazed.

“What’s going on? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he said, growing concerned as he bent down, positioning himself directly in front of my face, blocking any other view.

“I uh . . . I just saw a fox,” I mumbled as I shook my mind out of its blur and absently wiped the stray hair away from my face.

What had I just seen?

“Red fox? Which way did he go? Was he just passing by?” he asked nonchalantly.

I began walking back toward the house. Twigs and leaves compacted into the grass below my boots with each step as I tried desperately to make sense of what I had just seen.

“I guess. He went off that way.” I pointed in the direction of the now-absent fox. “He just kind of . . . watched me, frozen. Then he started to come to me when you showed up. It was the strangest thing though, somehow the sun was refracting . . . shimmer-like prisms off his body.” My voice trailed off, waiting to gauge his response.

“It what!? Callie, he sounds rabid,” the gruff man stated.

“It wasn’t rabid, Cliff, it was . . . it was beautiful,” I tried to argue.

“Well, a fox wouldn’t be that close to you without running if he wasn’t rabid. I’m going to put out an APB for the boys to take care of it,” he said sternly as he pulled a black walkie-talkie free from his pocket and pressed a few buttons, inducing a loud beep that abruptly unsettled the peace of the forest.

“No! I said it wasn’t rabid, Cliff! I’m sure it was just curious!”

We had stopped our trek back to the house to stare at one another.

“Callie, you can’t save everything. If the boys see it and suspect it’s rabid, it dies.”

His voice held a tone of arrogance I began to loathe the very second it hit my ears. How had I never noticed it before?

“Please don’t, Cliff.”

Why was he not more curious about the shimmering? I had said it out loud, right?

The rest of our walk was in silence. He suddenly seemed cruel, and I didn’t feel comfortable sharing anything more with him. I wouldn’t let them hurt that fox.

I hurried to throw away my trash in the outside cans before I locked the door from the outside, not wanting Cliff to have a reason to go inside.

“You don’t need anything inside?” Cliff’s voice held something unfamiliar. Something not quite new but something I guess I hadn’t paid attention to before. “Need me to look at anything for you?”

Was he trying to get inside my house?

“Nope, I’m good. Listen, if it’s out of your way at all, I can just get Cecelia to grab me on her way. Actually, that’s probably a lot easier, isn’t it? You’re not even going to the center other than to drop me off?” Damn that old truck, this was becoming another problem I didn’t need.

“Callie, I don’t mind. Stop shoving everyone away. Now get your Disney princess ass in the truck before you’re late. Who even feeds all these animals anyway? You know they’re wild, right?” His smirk flowed into his words, and back was the friendly man I had come to heavily rely on.

Maybe that had been a mistake.

We backed out of the driveway. An old country music song about friends in a bar played quietly in the air, and I mouthed the words on autopilot, staring out the window absently.

“Wait! It’s Wednesday, isn’t it? Oh, my heavens! I forgot about the library!” I shrieked, covering my cheeks behind my now dirt-covered hands. “I told Mrs. Stinson I would read something to the kids today. Oh, I can’t believe I forgot! I even wrote it on my list for today! Shoot!” I dramatically slid down the leather captain’s seat like a petulant child.

“I can drop you off, but I gotta run out to Prairie Oaks today and handle some things,” he trailed off.

“That’s okay! Would you please drop me off at the library? I’ll just get a ride after or call an Uber,” I said in my best pleading-to-a-man voice.

“An Uber?” Cliff burst out laughing. “You ever seen an Uber in these parts, Cal?” he continued, his laughter shaking his head, but took the road that would eventually get me to the small library.

“It’s Callie,” I stated, not thoroughly ruffled.

I hated nicknames, and even more, I hated when people tried to shorten my name or call me some other name completely.

“Huh?” he asked, still smiling.

“I’ve asked you before, Cliff. Please don’t shorten my name, it’s so informal and not my name.” I smiled, trying not to feel silly.

I knew it seemed stupid, but I didn’t want anyone calling me anything other than Callie.

“You need to lighten up, Callie,” he said, with no humor in his voice. It was hardly nine in the morning, but he still wore those stupid aviator glasses and ball cap. “You work too much. No, I’m serious”—I had started to interrupt him before he cut me off—“all you do is work. At first, I thought you was just tryin’ to make a good impression on the higher-ups, hell even on the folks around town, but you ain’t never quit, Callie. What have you got to show for all that work? You ain’t got hardly a friend to hang out with, ’cept for me and Cecelia, even though everyone in town likes ya.” His tone dripped with concerned fatherly notes.

I never knew my father, so I was never required to endure that patriarchal tone prior, and I certainly wasn’t going to start now. Sure there was truth to it, but it didn’t matter. I had a purpose. I had goals and plans. If that meant I had only a few friends, so be it. This was more important. Lonely, but more important. I didn’t want to settle down here anyway. I had other places in mind. I couldn’t even think about settling down with someone like him.

“Look, all I’m sayin’ is lighten up a little. You only live so long, ya know?”

I nodded my head and smiled. We had just pulled into the parking lot of the small brick library. I turned, thanked Cliff for the ride, and quickly leaped out to run up the concrete steps and into the small library as I smoothed my ponytail. It was something of an awkward run attempting to disguise it as a calm walk. The library wasn’t very large, but for such a small town, it was surprisingly updated. They held every type of community group you could imagine. Knit-wits was currently using the community room. I glanced through the glass windows to see a group of white-haired older women furiously knitting and chatting.

“Callie! My dear, you didn’t forget about us!” Mrs. Stinson sang happily, standing up from the desk.

“Forget about you? How could I? I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.” I smiled at the older woman, attempting to camouflage my embarrassment.

She was about four foot eleven, with a bony frame and shoulder-length white hair. The type of woman that prided herself on her ability to keep the library’s volume to a minimum, a professional shusher in every sense, if you will.

“Well, the gals are just finishing up. I talked to Cecelia about the horrible butterfly situation.”

She paused to look at me over top of her shiny half-moon glasses waiting for me to further incriminate myself. When I responded with nothing more than a frown, she pulled a chair out from behind the small gray front desk and motioned for me to sit down.

“Am I too early? I don’t want to bother you. I’d be happy to wander around until it’s time?” I asked, still standing, silently hoping to avoid the interrogation on the cusp of happening.

Cecelia and Mrs. Stinson were best friends, and if one didn’t give me a hard time about something, the other certainly would.

“Nonsense, the kids will pile in any minute. Have a seat before they get here. It’s the six-to-eight-year-olds today. Best to have your wits about ya.” She patted the desk chair roughly with a wise smile.

“Six-to-eight-year-olds?” I asked and immediately began to regret my commitment.

“Oh yea, and boy, are they excited to talk to you. You’re a real doll for agreeing to do this, ’specially after last time. Sorry again, little Timmy Endler’s mom says she has no idea how he got ahold of such a powerful slingshot, but don’t worry, he’s eleven now. He won’t be in the group.” She patted my leg before leaning back in her black desk chair. “You’re not gonna look like that forever, ya know? Pretty young thing like you ought to settle down, let a man take care of you for a while. Shoot, if I looked like you, I’d be sitt’n pretty right about now. A whole mess of children runnin’ around. You want children, Callie? Honey, why you sweatin’ so much? Those uniforms don’t breathe much, do they? No, I can tell.”

“Umm . . . no, ma’am, my work is enough for now.” I smiled nervously.

“Oh yes, Cecelia and I know how much your work means to you, miss biologist. To be honest, Callie, you’re just the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. I never seen ya’ without that beautiful smile plastered to your face. Hell, even as I’m grillin’ ya right now look at how sweet you are. I never in all my life seen anyone care so much about others, people or creatures alike. You know we just wanna see you happy, sweetness.” Mrs. Stinson’s voice grew warm and tender as she talked to me, and the act sent a strange warmth through me. She paused to wave at the several parent-child pairs that had begun to pilfer through the entrance.

“That’s sweet of you to say, Mrs. Stinson. Now that the room’s clear, should I get settled in with the kids?” I asked as I stood up from my chair, hoping for a clean getaway.

“Oh yes, I suppose I can’t keep you here all day, much as I’d like your company. Here, read this nice and slow, and then answer a few questions for about five minutes after. I’ll come in and shoo them all out at the end, I remember how much those kids liked you last time. They’ll never let you leave if I don’t make ’em. The park doesn’t know what a gem they have, Callie! Go on now.” She handed me a book on caterpillars and gently pushed me in the direction of the room.

After the last parents had gathered their adorably curious children, a few of the older kids got rowdy so I helped get the babies to sleep while the parents calmed the older siblings down. They all seemed like they could use a break, and who could pass up holding the sweet bundles of powdery-scented goodness? Once that scent turned more sulfuric, I did, however, return them before saying my goodbyes.

I stood on the cement steps of the library and flicked through my cell phone, contemplating who I could call for a ride besides Cliff or Cecelia when the entrance doors opened and closed behind me. I turned to move out of the way but wasn’t fast enough and nearly knocked down the thin man after he had tried to step aside in the same direction as me. His familiar face was covered by a stack of books nearly as tall as him. I pilfered through my mental filing cabinet for just how I knew his man. Skinny legs and even thinner arms. How those arms even carried the giant stack of books, I had no idea. He wore an orange “Good vibes only” shirt and a tan ball cap that said “Too old to care.”

“Crazy—” I hacked and coughed with embarrassment. “Earl, how are you? Can I help you with those books? That’s quite a stack you’ve got there,” I said. My face had to be the same color as a beet.

“Miss Callie, how ya doing?” The man stepped up the cement step to stand next to me. “Oh, don’t you worry about it, they call me Crazy Earl ’cause I asked them to, it’s just how they remember me,” the rosy-cheeked man said with a kind smile as he straightened the leaning pile of paperbacks.

His warm eyes contained a yellow copper tint with specks of green and brown.

“I’m sorry, Earl, really, that wasn’t very nice of me. Let me help you with those.” I tucked my iPhone into my front pocket and took a few of the books from him.

His smile noticeably widened a fraction.

“They’re right about you, you know that? Twenty-seven years, ain’t nobody ever said sorry for callin’ me crazy.” He chuckled so hard I thought he might drop his books.

I glanced down at the pile of books to spot a few I recognized in the stack.

“Entangled Life? Mystified Morels? Earl, are these all books on mushrooms? I didn’t even know Willow Springs library had some of these. What are you doing with all of these?” I asked as I stared at him.

The man positively glowed. Did this have anything to do with his partying? Cliff had said to talk to him about mushrooms . . .

“Help me take these to the car, and I’ll tell you all about it. Matter-a-fact, why don’t I just give you a ride? I heard your truck was still at Big Don’s. That’s what you were doing on the steps anyway, huh? Tryin’ to replace a ride?”

More perceptive than I would have thought. To be fair, I had only seen him in passing a few times at the gas station, and I was surprised he even knew my name. My first week here, he had tried to talk to me about the trees talking and forest bogs or something crazy. After Cliff had told me of his unstable chaos and drug usage, I had just avoided him. It was easy enough to believe from his unkempt appearance. It wasn’t that he looked dirty or anything, there was just something in his appearance that made you sympathize with him for not being quite “all there.” Though were any of us really all there? Sometimes I wondered.

I followed him across the parking lot to a small white hatchback. I hesitated to respond because, quite frankly, I was both surprised that Crazy Earl read or drove. I had never actually spoken to him after that first day, so I’m not sure why I was so surprised by how articulate he sounded. I was starting to feel awful for passing such judgment on him simply from the words of others, mostly Cliff. I did need a ride today though.

“If you’re sure I won’t put you out?” I asked as I handed him the last of the books to be placed in the back seat of his car.

“Not at all! Happy to have the company of a fellow biologist for a spell and a pretty one at that,” he said with a smile as he got into the front seat.

Okay, I was intrigued. I’m quite sure I’ve never jumped in a stranger’s car faster.

“Fellow biologist?”

He chuckled warmly. “You know any other nut that checks out eight books on mycelium and six on the genealogy of bullfrogs?”

Why would no one have told me this? Surely Cliff knew. Why wouldn’t he tell me Earl was a biologist too? I would have loved to talk to someone in my field.

“Forgive my surprise, cra—Earl, I just had no idea. Are you still working?”

“Oh no, I umm . . . was let go. A hundred years ago, least that’s what it feels like now, I worked as a microbiologist for the state. Where to?”

I had been so busy bug-eyed staring at him that I hadn’t realized he had been patiently waiting at the library exit for more instructions on where to take me.

“The rehab center, if it’s not too far. I need to grab my microscope. So you worked for the state?” My voice was rising to new pitches with each new surprise.

I coughed to try and control it better. I know it sounds silly, but I had no one to talk to about work. Not the complain-about-who-stole-your-leftovers talk, Cliff got those, but the “oh my god, have you seen the cercariae in the lake that’s giving everyone swimmers itch?” type of talk.

“No problem at all,” Earl said as he took a right onto the main drag. “Yep, I was a professor of biology at a university for ten years before Michigan offered me a job. After twenty-three years, they . . . let me go.” He stiffened his back and shoulders.

I noticed the slight shift in his eyes as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel ever so slightly.

“Wow, that’s quite an accomplishment. I was told I was Willow Spring State Park’s first biologist?” I asked, silently hoping I hadn’t taken a job he had tried to get or replaced him and he was mad.

“Well, so far as I know, you are. I worked in a small group with the government. They hired me to explain a few odd things they’d been replaceing. It’s how I ended up here as well.” He tipped his head to me and smiled kindly.

It was gentle and honest, and I immediately found myself liking him more by the second.

“Really? I always thought you were from here?”

I glanced around the cluttered interior of the car like a sleuth. Old mason jars, food wrappers from the local Chinese restaurant, endless balls of wadded-up paper littered the floor and back seat, and a few notebooks, but nothing out of the ordinary.

“No, I was brought out here for work much like you, and guess you could say I got stuck. Cecelia said you got a new microscope?” he asked, eyebrows peaked with interest.

“Now, how is it this whole town knows what I had for breakfast or what’s inside my packages, but I’ve never heard any of this about you?” I laughed, instantly hoping he didn’t ask what exactly I had heard about him. It wasn’t very nice, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Oh, I know what you’ve heard about me,” he murmured with a sheepish look. “It’s okay, one day, I will prove to them all that I’m right.

Okay, usually people didn’t want to prove they were crazy . . . time for a subject change?

“So if you’re not still working, then what are you doing with all of these books? Looks like research to me,” I said with a genuine grin.

He smiled back, the thin skin around his eyes wrinkling with the movement.

“Well, apparently, you really haven’t heard that much about me. Guess over time, the gossipers started to pity me. What microscope did you get? I’m shocked they finally broke down and bought one, tight as they are with their conservation funds. Usually, all the money goes to hunting and fishing. They’d rather spend money to kill nature than restore it.” He shook his head gently as he stared at the road ahead.

I twirled a frayed thread over my stiff khaki knee. I’d never really thought of it that way, but it was true. Cliff and his boys got so much money for the things they needed. Even if they “needed” new Ford trucks, while the conservation department was so severely lacking that I had been forced to buy seeds myself this year as it “wasn’t in the budget.”

“Well, actually, I got the ALMScope B/20c. I bought it myself thinking it would be an investment toward my move to Mexico, tracking the monarch butterflies.” I could feel my cheeks turn red.

There was no doubt he would know exactly how frivolous I had been spending that much money. I braced myself for a lecture on how stupid it had been to spend all my money on a microscope. Maybe I could send it back? The thought made me feel so sad I thought my skin might turn blue from the inside out. It was my only bit of hope left.

“The ALMScope B/20c!?” Earl slammed on the brakes.

The action sent us flying forward abruptly before I slammed back against the seat, flinching. I knew he might lecture me, but geez. Dramatic much? His face stared at me with the same expression I would have expected if the ghost of Abraham Lincoln walked past the window in a cowboy hat and tighty-whities.

“Yea, I know, it was stupid—”

“That’s the best compound field scope available! Do you know the things I . . . ugh . . . you could see with that!? It has a double-layered mechanical stage! Four objective lenses! I could finally test them!” He was close to screaming now. If he didn’t look so happy, it would have been incredibly frightening. “Would I be able to borrow it just once? Of course, if you’d like to come, that would be even better. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, and I’m going to catch them this time.” He stared off absently.

Maybe he was still a little crazy. This was a way better reaction though. Why couldn’t everyone be so happy for me and my new microscope? And I was gaining a field buddy? This was quickly turning out to be one of the best days I’d had in a very, very long time.

“Of course you can use it!” I was screaming now too, apparently easily affected. I cleared my throat in an attempt to bring down my pitch as we stared at each other in the middle of the road. If he had been ten years younger, this would have been one heck of a meet-cute. “Come inside, and you can see it!” I was back to screaming.

Both of us sat excitedly in the car for precisely another seven minutes until we pulled into the center’s parking lot.

We both jumped out of the car like kids in front of a candy store. I took the lead, running up to the door and letting my new friend in. This felt very much like in the first grade when you found out your cubby buddy also likes rainbow unicorns, and you just had to show them your very best one. Maybe this was better than that.

“Hi, Cecelia!” I shouted as I ran through the doors into my office like an excited child.

“Hi, Cecelia!” Earl shouted excitedly, following close behind.

“What in the hell’s going on? Callie, why you runnin’? Earl? What in the hell are you doing here?” Cecelia shouted back, gawking at us as we ran in.

“Callie’s showing me her microscope! Why didn’t you tell me it was the ALMScope B/20c!?” Earl shouted back at his friend before entering my office doors.

“Tell you what now?” she shouted back, confused.

“Cece, do we have any more of those cookies in the front?” I shouted, turning back to Earl as I pulled out the sturdy black case and unlocked it on the table. “They’re really good. Sometimes she even adds chocolate chips. Here take a look!”

I stepped aside so he could take the seat nearest the microscope and handed him a few of the glass slides I had prepared earlier. The toilet water sample from the Piggly-Wiggly was still my favorite.

A hush fell over our excitement as he set up and dialed in the apparatus. I could tell by his practiced movements he was quite used to being around one, and my body began to hum with anticipation of his reaction. How amazing today was turning out to be!

“What scope do you have, Earl?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t accidentally shamed him if he had an older one.

“Don’t have one now. My salary at the gas station doesn’t really give me the means to buy such a fine microscope, and what I’m looking for, well, anything in my price range wouldn’t be of help,” he said, one eye pressed to the lens.

“So if you work at the gas station, what type of things are you working on that require such a microscope?” I asked.

There had been far too many books in his car for it to be just a hobby. Plus, microscopy as a hobby?

He gently moved his head away from the lens and sat back in his chair. He had a worn-out appearance, but I had no doubt he had likely been very popular with the ladies in his younger years. Even now, in his sixties, I could sort out a few strikingly handsome features. He had flipped his hat around backward to look in the eyepiece, and the position of the ball cap brought focus to his honey eyes. Eyes now bloodshot and cloudy, nestled in pale wrinkles of time covered in freckled sun spots. Though I’m sure he was incredibly handsome once, he now carried a disheveled, almost sickly appearance. His skin had a slight gray cast, even with the kiss of sun on his face and forearms. Unkept ash-gray hair clumped over his ears, pressed at odd angles from the still backward ball cap that only seemed to add to his disorderly appearance.

“Some odd years ago, the state sent me here to look into a new genus of fungi that has only ever been found here, in Willow Springs.” He caught his breath with a long pause as if deciding how much to say. “I saw some of the most peculiar things when collecting data for this odd mushroom. Over the years, we tried to cultivate it with no success. It has yet to turn up anywhere else but here.” Immediately, intrigue flooded my system. “I have seen things from the areas where they fruit that would make you fear the woods. It’s as if something inhuman floats around it.” He stood up from the chair and smoothed his wrinkly orange T-shirt as if he regretted letting out his last words. He stared at the microscope on my desk.

“Sounds like a really intense replace. What did they discover about it?” I crossed my arms and leaned against the cold wall as fascination overtook me.

He was an odd fellow, but that’s what everyone had thought about me when I was a child and had insisted I saw fairies. Maybe there was more to this.

I wasn’t sure I believed anything he said, but something about it kept me wanting to know more. When he spoke, you felt his friendliness, could hear his articulation and intelligence. But just looking at him, he gave off an almost wild and “not all there” vibe. The whole thing was so peculiar I couldn’t help but unravel it a little more.

“Nothing. Years I worked to replace everything I could about this mystical fruiting body. Eventually, the state incinerated my notes and fired me. Claimed I lacked the mental capacity to continue.” He looked at the ground, unable to keep eye contact. “Maybe they were right.”

“I don’t think they were right, Earl,” I said as I walked closer to pat his bony back.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You haven’t even heard what I’ve seen.” He smiled with a tiny sparkle of hope in his cloudy eyes; it looked like it’d been a while since it had been there.

“Well, I’d love to hear more. I’m sure I don’t know near as much about fungi as you, but I can hold my own on a foray. I’m actually collecting mycelium for a project I’m currently working on. It’s to save the luna moth population,” I murmured as I leaned back against the wall and watched his face.

If he really did know as much as I suspected, then I wanted to get his help replaceing what I needed.

“Really?” He perked up like a golden retriever being handed a ball. “What are you looking for? Maybe I can help, I’m practically a fungi map of Willow Springs at this stage.” He smiled, just like I imagined a golden retriever would smile.

I pulled a stool out and sat down. Was this shaping up to be the luckiest day of my life? I grabbed a thick manilla folder of papers and handed it to Earl, who took them eagerly. He pulled a pair of readers from a case in his back pocket and began to look them over.

“Well, that’s one of my problems,” I stated, and my pulse quickened. “You see, I’m using the ‘roots’ of the mushroom’s fruiting body, the mycelium. I need the highest levels of psilocybin possible to dose the water where the moths will drink. I will place special feeders at the locations where the larvae have been predominantly hatched in the past, ensuring they are thirsty and will have the need to drink. The mycelium water will provide an eighty-six percent immunity growth from the parasites that are wiping them out.”

I smiled so wide it made my cheeks hurt. Usually, no one understood how exciting this was. They just heard “make mushroom water to feed moths, and they will get better.” I knew Earl would understand. The more moths, the easier it would be to track them.

“Holy shit, Callie,” he murmured, staring wide-eyed at me from his seat. “That’s absolutely brilliant. What’s the problem?”

I tried to calm my smile.

“Well, the only problem is I need the highest levels of amatoxin possible in the mycelia, and the only mushrooms I’ve found that would work have already come and gone. There are only a few known varieties that even have that amount of amatoxin. The luna moths are expected to be here in less than a month, and I don’t know of anything strong enough that I can get in time. I don’t have time to spawn anything—”

“I know where you can replace some now.”

I looked up, feeling as if the world were in slow motion. Were we speaking about the same things? Were the incredibly rare mushrooms that I searched for the same ones that Earl spoke of? Goose bumps ghosted across my skin. It was almost too great of a coincidence.

I expected to see the happy golden retriever again, but the face he held was somber and full of sullenness. His face was still as stone, but his eyes brimmed full of something I couldn’t quite place. Regret?

“You do? How would I not have seen them?” I asked, feeling suddenly weary.

“Because they don’t show up for everybody.” He swiveled his chair to look at the microscope. “I know where to replace them, it’s the fungi that has ruined my life. Maybe you will be able to replace a purpose with them. They have only brought me heartache and distanced me from my loved ones.” He cleared the emotion from his voice. “I hope they are what you need, Callie.”

“Do they have a name? What are they called?” I asked curiously.

The mushrooms that would help me the most were only rumored to even exist. I could use a less potent variety, but I wasn’t entirely sure how well it would work.

He turned to me with a tired and heavy expression.

“Destroying angels.”