Shifter Made

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Sidhe, the villagers called them. He could smell her, a bright, sticky-sweet stench that humans found irresistible.

He kept his head bent over his task. Mending a cooking crane for a village woman was far more important than speaking to a Fae. Besides, his name wasn’t Smith, and if she couldn’t call Niall by his real name he saw no need to answer.

"Shifter, I command you," she said.

Niall continued hammering. Wind poured through the open doors, carrying the scent of brine, fish, and clean air, which still could not cover the stench of Fae.

" Shifter."

"This forge is filled with iron, lass," Niall cut her off. "And Shifters don’t obey Fae anymore. Did you not hear that news a hundred and fifty years ago?"

"I have a spell that keeps my aversion of iron at bay. For a time. Long enough to deal with you."

She had a voice like clearest water, and Niall finally looked up, curiosity winning over animosity. A tall woman in flowing silk stood on his threshold, her body haloed by the setting sun. Her pale hair hung to her knees in a score of thin braids, and she had the dark eyes and slender, pointed ears common to her kind. She was beautiful in an ethereal sort of way. But then all Fae were beautiful, the evil bastards.

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