GENRE: Urban Fantasy
Deor emerged from the Underground station and followed the path past the Tower down to the Thames Riverwalk into the breeze. The air, pungent with diesel fuel and rotten fish, tickled her nose. She sneezed hard. Silver sparkles erupted in a cloud around her head, and she waved them away, braced herself for someone to say something, to notice. But beyond a murmured "bless you" from a passing tourist, no one showed any reaction. The sparks, the only sign she'd ever had that her father had been a faerie, went unnoticed here in London as they always had back in Bakersfield.
Tower Bridge loomed, blue and steely, across the river. According to the directions from her Department chair, the ferryman's slip should be in the bridge's western shadow.
She scanned the thin crowd of passersby hoping someone might give some signal that they too had Fae blood, but they all seemed hopelessly mundane. Tourists in ugly shirts snapped pictures of the bridge. A couple of plaid-wearing punks necked on one of the wrought iron benches that lined the river promenade. Business men with cell phones clamped to their ears trudged past her toward the tube station from which she'd come.
The sight jogged Deor's memory, and she took out her own cell phone. She'd already called three times since her plane landed at Heathrow.
"Come on, Mom," she said as the phone rang a few times and went to voice mail again. "You can't be that angry at me."