Floating in midair, wings fluttering like she just stepped out of a Disney movie gone rogue, was a fae. A real one. Tiny as my hand, glowing faintly gold, wearing—dear goddess help me—the most atrocious outfit I’d ever seen.

Her dress was made of glitter, tulle, and possibly the souls of sacrificed Barbie dolls. It shimmered pink, sparkly, and had sequins. Actual sequins.

“Oh, hell no,” I muttered.

She crossed her little arms, hovering with an expression that screamed judgmental ...