The Accidental Fairy, page 1
The Accidental Fairy
THE ACCIDENTALS
BOOK 14
DAKOTA CASSIDY
About This Book
Did you ever think you’d meet a bigger, foul-tempered potty mouth than Nina? Well, folks, meet Primrose Dunham.
It’s Christmas and as the OOPs gang prepares for the holidays another “accident” finds its way to their doorstep. That accident turns out to be angry, foul-mouthed, rude and, well…
Just like Nina.
Primrose Dunham has been accidentally turned into a fairy. As if she wasn’t already angry enough with the world, now she has sporadic powers she can’t control, pointy ears, and a weird hump on her back that everyone keeps calling a “wing.”
If that’s not enough of a shock, a vampire, a werewolf and a halfsie come to her “rescue”…whether she wants them to help or not.
Oh, and the man she’s been trying to avoid—the literal boy next door and her one-time bestie, Rafferty Monroe—gets turned as well, thanks to Primrose!
It’ll take more than a Christmas miracle to thaw Prim’s frosty attitude, protect her from her sinister stepfather, and figure out why there’s a price on her head in the fairy world. But it’s nothing the OOPs ladies—along with assorted paranormal friends and framily—can’t handle. Right?
Copyright
The Accidental Fairy
The Accidentals
Book 14
Editor Kelli Collins
Cover Art Katie Wood
Published 2023 by Dakota Cassidy
Copyright © 2023, Dakota Cassidy
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Book Boutiques.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real.
NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Stage Fright
About the Author
Also by Dakota Cassidy
Dedication
My ever-faithful darlings,
I almost can’t believe we’re embarking on yet another accidental adventure, but we meet again! Thank you for showing up. I don’t know what keeps you coming back, but I’m sure glad you do!
As to this edition, please note, I’ve played fast and loose with fae folklore and the stories surrounding them to suit my own selfish needs—as in, I took bits and pieces from each country’s legends about fairies and mixed ’em all up to make my own batter. Any and all mistakes/tweaking of ancient mythology are mine and mine alone.
Huge thanks to my youngest son, he himself a software engineer, for explaining the correct lingo for Prim’s profession. I love you, buddy. You’ll always be my little Antichrist.
Also, eternal thanks to my amazing Facebook folks for helping pick the heroine’s name. Y’all are the best!
I’ll see you next year with two more Accidentals. Until then, if you celebrate the holidays, no matter what you celebrate, stay safe, stay warm, and my fondest wish for you…I hope it’s spent with the people you love. Much prosperity to you and yours for the coming year!
Love,
Dakota XXOO
Chapter
One
“What the ever-lovin’ fuckity-fuck is this?” groused a beautiful Amazonian-ish woman with hair like ribbons of ebony silk falling down her back, nearly reaching her waist.
She held Primrose Dunham between her slender fingers with a sour expression of absolute distaste. Lifting her high, this stunningly pale creature examined her under the blinding light of an unfamiliar kitchen.
You said it, sister. What the ever-lovin’ fuckity-fuck?
As Prim looked around at this beautiful kitchen with its shiny appliances, Christmas lights strung from every corner, baskets big and small filled with shiny ornaments and decorative balls on the counter and the floor by a big dining room table, she realized everything looked enormous.
As if she’d been shrunk…
Had she been drugged? How could this be real?
Two more ladies came to stand by the beautiful woman, their eyes squinting, brows furrowed. One blonde and pretty with flawless makeup, sapphire-blue eyes, and bouncy, beach-waved curls brushing the length of her spine. The other with chestnut-brown hair, upswept and shiny, her makeup tasteful and elegant, her eyes soft and kind.
“Well, I’ll be dipped,” the blonde muttered with a cluck of her tongue. “Where in all the world did you find something like this, Mistress of the Dark?”
“Oh, fuck you, Ass-Sniffer, I didn’t find it. It found me. It came flying at me outside like some drunk toddler when I was with Carl and Charlie, building a fucking snowman. Buzzed me in the head, so I snatched the fucker up in my hand.”
Yeah, she had.
Like some kind of blurred fucking ninja.
It had been an accident, of course. She’d zapped the pale lady in the face because she had no idea what she was doing, and with the speed of light, this alleged Mistress of the Dark had reached up and caught Primrose midair, effectively stopping her wings from moving.
Because how the fuck was she supposed to know how to make goddamn wings work? She knew they were wings because she’d felt them fluttering behind her.
But the bigger question still remained, how did she get wings to begin with?
Jesus and shit.
“Why are you catching bugs, Nina?” Ass-Sniffer asked as she made a face. “Could you be any weirder than you already are?”
Nina shoved Primrose in Ass-Sniffer’s face. “Eat a bag of dicks, Marty. I’m not catching bugs. Look at the fucking thing.”
“Is that a firefly? How curious that a firefly survived the snow and colder temperatures,” the elegant lady said, her voice soft as she hugged a young boy of maybe three or four—with skin that had a green cast to it—on her hip. “I thought they died off after the summer.”
The dark-haired goddess made a face and even though it was an unattractive one, she still managed to be supermodel flawless.
“It’s not a fucking firefly, Wanda. Use those half-werewolf, half-vampire eyes and look at the GD thing.” Now she jammed Primrose in the pretty lady’s face, forcing a squeal from her mouth when she pinched her wings too tight.
Her wings. How, in all of the fucked up of fucked up, did she get wings?
“Fucking firefly! You’re so funny, Auntie Nina,” the little green child repeated with a giggle.
Nina leaned over and dropped a kiss on the small boy’s head with a grin so stunning, it might have taken Primrose’s breath away if she weren’t already breathless, because, you know, she had wings…
“You’re gonna get Auntie Nina grounded.” She took him from Wanda with one arm and gave him an affectionate squeeze when he wrapped his arms around her neck.
“I love you, Auntie Nina,” he cooed, burying his face in her cascade of hair.
“I love you, too, Green Bean. Now quit sayin’ the stuff I say, because it’s bad and it’s gonna get you time in the thinking corner and we all know how much you love the thinking corner. Get on outta here, little man, and go find Carl and Grampa Arch and see what they’re up to.” Nina dropped another kiss on his dark head before setting him on the floor with a pat to his backside.
The lady named Wanda sighed with a happy smile as she watched him scurry off to find the people Nina was talking about.
“He’s getting so big, isn’t he?” Then she shook an authoritative finger at the pale woman, her lips pursing. “And if you don’t stop using that foul language around my son, I’m going to borrow some of the duct-tape you use on Carl and tape your potty mouth shut, Vampire.”
Um, duct-tape? Who was Carl and why did they use duct-tape on him? What kind of freaky-deaky double-Dutch shit was that?
“Shut the fuck up, Wanda, and look at this thing, would ya?”
Nina jammed Primrose back under Wanda’s nose, her tiny legs dangling perilously as she wobbled in her steel grip. The very pretty lady named Wanda’s eyes widened and she blinked before pressing a hand to her mouth. “It’s…a…little person? Holy mackerel… What is it?”
Apparently, Wanda had used her half-werewolf-half-vampire eyes. Half-werewolf, half-vampire? Like, what? What was happening?
P
“I’m not an it, lady! I’m a fucking she! Now let go of me, or I’ll blast your sorry ass into next year!”
Now the blonde lady, Marty, peered at her as though she was some science project to be examined under a microscope.
She gasped, too. “It’s a person, Nina! A cute little person with…wings! She has wings, and they’re so pretty! Give her to me this instant before you hurt her!”
The blonde lady, her bracelets jangling in the quiet of the kitchen, tried to snatch Primrose away from the woman named Nina, but she batted her hand away and held her higher still.
“Get the fuck outta here, Marty. Whatever the fuck it is, I’d bet my ass it’s a shitty problem we don’t need just before Christmas. I have plans for the holiday and I’m not gonna let them get trashed. It’s going back outside where it came from.”
Primrose winced. But…but… Her wings had just begun to de-ice. It was damn cold outside. Ask her. She knew. She’d only flown what felt like a zillion miles to get here.
“Plans?” Marty scoffed, crossing her arms over her winter-white, knee-length sweater, blocking the taller woman’s exit from the kitchen. “To do what, exactly, Nina? Bake cookies you can’t eat? String popcorn? Go door to door caroling and make every male cat in the neighborhood line up outside my house because they think you’re in heat and your singing sounds like a boy band member’s being skinned alive? Please. Who are you kidding? You don’t have plans because we don’t have plans. We do everything together, especially the holidays, and you know it.”
Nina stuck her neck out, jamming her face in Marty’s. “Maybe I am gonna make cookies. Maybe I’m goin’ rogue this year for Christmas. How about that, Ass-Sniffer? You don’t fucking know.”
Hold that thought. Forget everything else. Forget the tone of dismissal in Marty’s voice and Nina’s defensive but feeble denial. Forget the bit about vampires and werewolves. Forget that she’d admitted she had wings.
This incredibly beautiful woman couldn’t eat cookies?
Blasphemy!
Why couldn’t she eat cookies? Who can’t eat cookies? Though, maybe that was why her skin was so flawless and eerily pore-free.
Nina held her up again, swishing her back and forth like a supper bell under Marty’s nose. “So no. No can do, Marty. I’m not gonna get stuck with whatever the fuck this is.”
“Hey!” Primrose yelped. “Stop manhandling the goods, lady!”
Wanda’s eyes flew open wide. “Did you hear that? The tiny person talks!”
Tiny person. Hah. She was almost six feet on a good day, thank you very much.
Nina frowned. “I didn’t hear a fucking thing. Open the door, Wanda, because it’s goin’ the fuck outside!”
Wanda’s eyes narrowed, her beautiful orbs glittering. “If I heard it, you heard it, Nina. I’m not the only one with vampire hearing. Give it to me, now!” She held out a hand with a stern look the nuns from Prim’s old Catholic school would bow down before, but Nina shook her head.
Vampire hearing?
Vam-pire-hear-ing, Primrose. You heard her.
“Nope. Not today, Wanda. I’m not gettin’ caught up in some shit because you can’t mind your own business and not bake cookies for every fucking stray that crosses our path. Now, leave well enough alone. It goes back outside.”
“Give it to me, Vampire, or I’m going to kick your scrawny ass!” Marty yelped.
If this were an ordinary day in the life of Primrose Dunham, she’d applaud Marty’s threat. She wasn’t afraid to throw hands either—to the great dismay of her therapist.
But this wasn’t a normal day in her life. This was stupid crazy.
When Nina refused to hand Primrose over, Marty tilted her chin upward, her eyes aglow.
There was a low growl, a snarl that for as long as Primrose Dunham lived, she’d never forget. And then there was hair. Big, bushy tufts of it sailing across the room. So much hair and teeth.
Lord, those teeth…
“Marty! No!” Wanda yelled, lunging for the beast who’d simply appeared before her very eyes, this thing that looked as though it was straight out of a movie set.
But slow that roll. Had Wanda just called the beast Marty? How had that gorgeous, blue-eyed blonde turned into…that?
There was no time to ponder more because as Marty rushed Nina, crashing into her long torso, Primrose got a bird’s-eye view of the pointy teeth that shot out of Nina’s gums before she was launched across the room.
Primrose went sailing across the kitchen, cabinets and shiny appliances whizzing by before she slammed into a hard surface.
Dizzy, she slid down the cupboard door and slumped against the lower cabinet, vaguely noting the ball of hair rolling toward her looked like the size of a killer bunny.
“Ladies!” a short blue man with a tuft of equally blue hair, dressed in a pristine black suit covered by an apron that read “Kiss the Cook”, shouted and stomped his foot. “Have I not warned you this behavior is unacceptable in a household I run? I will not have this sort of discord around the children! This isn’t WrestleMania, this is our home—act like it! If you wish to come to fisticuffs, you will take it outside!” Then he whipped off his apron, covering his eyes and holding it out into the room. “Mistress Marty, you will put this on your person this instant!”
Primrose scrunched her eyes shut, trying not only to block out the pain in her back and the throb of her skull, but the scene that had just played out before her.
Because it was mad nuts. Absolute insanity.
So much so, Primrose fought to process it even as her body lurched forward.
Bending at the waist, her limbs jerked and shook, and her heart thrashed about in her chest as though it were fighting its way out from under her skin.
She groaned at the searing pain in her back, rolling to her side to note there was something hanging off her big toe. She stared at it long and hard before coming to a strange conclusion.
It was a tiny hiking boot.
Her boot?
Wiggling her fingers and toes, Prim blinked then shot forward in surprise. She ran her hands over her limbs, checking every part of her person.
Holy shit! She was back to normal! Scrambling to her feet, she forgot about the tiny hiking boot—and that, likely, everything else she’d had on when this whole fiasco started was the same Barbie-doll size as her shoe—and tried to bolt.
Until everyone gasped, so loud and so sharp, it made her ears ring. She looked at all of them and their surprised expressions.
“What?”
The short blue man cleared his throat, his eyebrows raised. “Madame, might I offer you something to cover yourself? A robe, perhaps?”
She looked down the length of her body and gulped. Well, fuck.
With a wince, she looked around the homey kitchen, desperately trying to hide her nakedness.
Yanking a kitchen towel from the wall oven handle, she shook it out and lamely made an attempt to press it to her breasts while placing a hand over her southerly regions.
Everyone stood stock still. Marty, her hair a ruffled mess of various shades of blonde, wore nothing but an apron. Nina, the dark beauty, her elongated teeth gleaming in the overhead kitchen lights. And lastly Wanda, her upswept hair now disheveled, one low-heeled shoe lost in the melee.
Every last one of them gaping at her like she was some sideshow freak.
That was when her unfiltered big mouth took over.
Prim straightened and glared back at them in indignant defiance. “Excuse the fuck out of me, but after what I just saw, who the fuck do you think you are, staring at me?”
