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Luc—the man I allowed to take my virginity? The one I thought I could love. He’s alive. Relief fills me, followed by horror. He killed Dad. But he made it. He made it. He’s alive. A roller coaster of emotions washes over me. It’s not possible. Is it? Surely, he didn’t...he’s alive. He made it.
I don’t realize I’m holding my stomach, rocking back and forth and moaning, until she gently takes my hands and forces me to stillness.
“Stop, child. You’re embarrassing yourself, and me, in front of others.” She glances over at the winter warrior. “Your supernatural lover is still alive. And no, he didn’t kill your father. Why do you have to be so dramatic?”
“Are you serious?” I stare at her, finally seeing her true nature. Seeing beyond the surface beauty that presumably attracted my father, to the cold and calculating creature that lies beneath. It is as if the deceptive silver mist has cleared. This banshee—this woman who birthed me—is not a nice creature at heart. She doesn’t care about anything except herself, and clearly, she receives enjoyment from baiting me.
I refuse to let her have that hold on me.
For the first time in my life I’m happy she left when she did. Imagine being raised here, in this cold, empty place by a woman clearly without empathy for others? I’m glad I was raised by my human half of the family. Even if my aunt was less affectionate toward me than she would have been if I were one hundred per cent human, she never deliberately said or did anything to make me feel bad. She never manipulated me and my feelings.
“If he didn’t kill Dad, then who did? And how do you know about it? Why was Luc there?”
The answer to that final question is more important than why or how I ended up in the faerie realm.
She shrugs. “His Maker went rogue and partnered with a were shifter,” she says casually, as though the whole episode is of no consequence. “Together, they killed many innocent humans before your pet vampire brought them down.”
He brought down his own Maker? Veronique, the woman he professed to love. I can’t even imagine the horror he must have felt at having to take such action. Oh, Luc.
I wish he had told me the truth.
Would it have mattered? Would anything he said have actually changed things?
I want to see him. I want to hold him. I want to confirm for myself that he really is alive. I rub my palms on my thighs to keep them from doing something else. Like delivering a slap to my mom’s cheek.
Thoughts tumble through my brain. I don’t really understand. Another rogue pairing? This sounds too strange to be a coincidence. Has this current strangeness in the world been going on for twenty-five years? Is it more common than everyone believes? Why wouldn’t he tell me that, if not the rest?
I think back to how quickly he disappeared out the door after he discovered my dad had been killed by a female vamp. There was opportunity then to mention it, surely? What stopped him? What made him run? Was it guilt? Was he afraid? Of what?
My eyes narrow at my mother. “And how do you know this?” I ask. I stop rubbing my hands on my dress. I push up so I’m standing. I don’t come to her height and I definitely don’t have her grace, but I hold my own, and I won’t back down from her even if she is intimidating.
Mother stands and begins to pace the bedroom, if that’s what this strange mist-filled room can be called. I step back, and let myself take in this room that I’ve woken up in. There’s a bed, and a chair and side table, but beyond that, nothing but white-tiled floor and a ring of archways around the perimeter, each guarded by a faerie in armor. Is that for protection, or to keep me imprisoned?
“I was not there, but others were,” she says. “I had someone watching over you back then, to ensure your continued safety. I arrange protection for all my babies. Your true names are powerful and in the wrong hands, can be used for ill.”
It’s strange to hear her say she’s concerned for us. Or at least, our names. I don’t even know who us is. From the sound of it, I have brothers or sisters scattered across the country.
I think on what she says about our names.
Your true names are powerful and in the wrong hands, can be used for ill.
What in fucking hell does that mean? I try to process her words as well as this overall situation, but it’s all becoming a little too much. I don’t really understand anything at the moment, and quite frankly, I just want to return home and check on Luc.
“It’s a lot.”
“I beg your pardon?” She furrows her brow and turns to me, annoyance marring her perfect features. “Speak up, child. Your voice may not work fully in the human realm but it should work perfectly well here at home.”
“Nothing.” The word is petulant as it falls out of my mouth, but I don’t care. Part of me wants to smack this goddamn woman. Instead, I take a deep breath, and then another. Okay. Calm. Even though I don’t like her, she’s helping me. She saved me. And she’s answering questions. “Do you confirm that Luc didn’t kill dad, but instead, he killed the person who did?”
At her nod, I add, “He killed his own Maker?”
I still can’t comprehend the difficulty of that decision. I wish we’d had the chance to talk about it before everything kicked off and turned to chaos.
“Yes.” She shrugs and moves on to another subject, as if Luc and his potential angst is of no consequence. As if my father’s death and the creatures who caused it are entirely unimportant. I guess, to her, these things don’t matter. “It’s good to see you healed, Aleah. Isn’t it lucky we found you in time to bring you back to the Court?”
Good to see me? If that’s true, why not make more of an effort before now?
“Ah. Yes. Lucky.” I look down at my hands and shift my weight. No matter what I might feel about her, the fact that I’m alive right now is clearly testament to her intervention. And the fae who saved me, of course. “Thank you for saving my life, Mom.”
“Stop,” she snaps, her lips curling over her teeth like she’s some kind of predator bearing her fangs. “It’s Renna. Call me Renna.”
I nearly roll my eyes. Nice to finally know my mother’s name at the age of twenty-nine. I’m guessing it’s not her true name, though, if she’s so hung up about that topic.
“Which Court, um...Renna?”
“Winter, of course.” She says it as though it’s obvious, as though she’s embarrassed that I don’t know this. “You’re a banshee.”
I blink. I never thought I’d agree with her, but I should have known that. Winter makes perfect sense. Death is the ultimate ending, and yet there are many who also believe it is only the beginning.
“I guess being a banshee could fit equally well in the Spring Court,” I say, more to myself than to her.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother responds. “There’re only two courts in our realm—Winter, or Summer. No in-between. Fall sits with us, and Spring with the other.”
Well, okay. You learn something new every day.
“So, this is Winter, and you live here, now?” I face her, not sure if I want to check out a part of my heritage I never considered before this moment, or if I just want to head straight home to my own world. And Luc. The decision is a no-brainer, really. But the curiosity lingers.
“I’ve always lived here. I visit the human world only to create more of us. It’s the task I’ve been given by the King, himself.” Pride laces her tone. “Banshees are fading out, Aleah, and it is my duty to re-populate however I can. You have several half-brothers and sisters in the human realm. Likely another in around eight months’ time.”
She lays a hand on her abdomen and I have to fight hard not to cringe. She’s expecting? Ew! Which poor human sucker has impregnated her this time? How long will she hang around in the child’s life before she says sayonara and disappears yet again, leaving a baby without a mother and without the knowledge of what he or she really is?
Is it easy to leave us?
I swallow back the bitter words and aim for general nicety instead. “Congratulations.”
She smiles widely and strokes her belly. “Thank you,” she says. “At first, I thought one or two of you would do, but once I started it seemed like a good idea to keep going. Plus, humans make very good lovers.”
She gives me a wicked grin, and I look away, trying not to cringe.
Too much information.
“Right. Okay. So, how do I get out of here?” I sweep out my arms to gesture around the room. “Where’s the door? I think it’s time for me to head home.”
I really need to see Luc, and talk to him about what happened twenty-five years ago in my dad’s apartment. In my apartment. I need to hear it from him. I need to know what happened.
I head determinedly across the tiled floor, searching vainly for a door. Which of the many archways leads to the exit? Or maybe there is no exit. Do they all simply teleport in and out of this place?
A wide-shouldered fae steps forward as I reach one of the archways, blocking my departure. He looks to my mother and awaits her response.
Dear old Mom glides up and gives an affirmative nod, and he steps back.
“Which way?” I don’t mean to sound terse, but this place is not conducive to calm and relaxing. At least, it isn’t for me. Or maybe it’s just being around my mother.
“Here.” She touches my arm and guides me to the left. “Come, you can at least see a little of home before you run away.”
Run away. I shouldn’t be surprised by this. More manipulation. However, it almost sounds as though she’s disappointed that I want to leave so soon.
We step into a long corridor of what appears to be a grand home or perhaps a castle. As we pass an opening in the wall—a window without glass—I glance out on a world filled with silver-white wonder. Snow-covered grounds and thin trees bare of leaves shouldn’t be so beautiful, but my heart lifts at the sparkle of light twinkling among the branches. It’s the effect of sunlight arrowing its weak, winter beam through icicles dripping from the trees.
The view is picture-postcard-perfect and for the first time since I woke, I feel a faint sense of connection. “This is beautiful, Renna.”
I feel a sense of peace here. I am surprised by this connection and I slow down my pace so I can truly take in the beauty that makes up a home I never had the chance of knowing.
“It is.” For the first time, her tone reflects true happiness. Pride. Perhaps a twinge of regret. Perhaps she wishes I had been privy to this before now, and under less dire circumstances. “And now that I brought you here, you will always be able to return if you wish. Despite your half-breed status, your fae blood is strong. All you will need to do is remember this view and this emotion, and you will find the path back to Faerie.”
She rests her hand briefly over my heart.
The walls disappear and morph into a doorway, and we enter what appears to be a large throne room filled with people. These people, though, are clearly all fae. Tall, pale and ethereal in their beauty, both men and women alike glide around with movements that seem effortless and smooth. Some have dark hair like that of my mother and me, but others are as pale blonde as possible. All have the trademark pointed ears and high cheekbones that denote a full-blood fae.
While they acknowledge Renna with polite smiles and small nods, they appear to ignore me completely. It’s probably because I’m not like them, not completely.
I finger my own ears, glad in one sense that I inherited my father’s normal, human-shaped ears, but I feel so out of place here that I surreptitiously rearrange my hair to cover the anomaly. Everyone seems busy, intent on whatever business takes them scurrying through the space, but there are clusters of fae chatting and laughing and at the end of the great hall, a dais where two enormous thrones sit empty.
Another pang of longing hits me. I try to ignore it, but I can’t. Despite the fact that I appreciate where I grew up, how I grew up, I can’t help but feel as though I missed out on learning an important part of who I am.
I nod at the thrones. “Are they for the Winter King and Queen?”
I’ve not heard anything about Faerie other than what I’ve read or seen on television, and most of those speculations are based on human imagination, rather than reality.
Renna laughs, the sound joyous and carefree. “Oh, Aleah.” She regards me with sparkles in her eyes, and I’m suddenly aware how easily she must have seduced my father and the other men she procreated with. “I didn’t realize how little you know.”
Well, whose fault is that, woman? I don’t say my thoughts out loud, but I do raise a pointed brow when I turn to stare at her, and after a moment her cheeks turn a delicate pink. At least she has the decency to look away.
“Yes, well...” She clears her throat. “The Winter Court no longer has a Queen. King Tryppton banished her years ago, when he discovered her in bed with her warrior protector. The king is currently in the market for a new consort. There’s a ball next week to introduce the current round of suitors.” Her gaze turns calculating. “Hmm. Maybe...”
“Absolutely not.” Somehow, I know exactly where she’s going with this, and I won’t have it. I will not let her use me like some kind of pawn in her little power games. “Besides, I’m sure Faerie wouldn’t want a half-breed on the throne. No one likes a half-breed, do they?”
Except, perhaps, a certain vampire police sergeant. The thought of Luc sends a pang right to my heart. Where is he right now and what is he doing? Does he wonder where I disappeared to? Does he even know I’m still alive? Has he managed to survive since I was brought here?
“How long have I been here, Mo—I mean, Renna?”
“You were unconscious for four days,” she says. She talks about my incapacitation like she might talk about the weather. “Your wound was severe, Aleah, as was your loss of blood. It took all of our healing magics to repair the damage to your throat. Not a bad job, if I do say so myself.”
Four days. That’s not so bad. Unless... “Is time the same here as it is there?”
“You mean, in the human realm?” She arches a brow as we continue to walk down the long hallway.
I’m still struck by the peaceful scenery outside. It pulls my attention from my mother and what she’s saying.
“Sometimes, but not always. Time is less...rigid here. Four days, four weeks...” She waves a hand. “Could be four years, I suppose. When you return, you’ll know.”
Four years? I blink. I rip my eyes away from the snow-filled landscape and turn to look at her. He could be with someone else. He could be dead. There’s no way he would wait around for me. We were together for one night. One night and that’s it.
“I appreciate you bringing me here and healing my wound, but please, I need to get home as soon as possible.”
My mother pouts daintily. “You’re no fun. Your father was the same. Very staid and proper.” She sighs heavily, and just as I’m about to insist, she adds, “All right. Just think of the location you wish to be. Think of exactly where you want to be, and with my magic to boost you...” She lays a hand on my forearm. “There. Now think of a location and the magics will guide you along the faerie paths.”
Guess I wasn’t far wrong with my teleporting joke.
I hesitate. I stare at my mother, at the woman I never thought I’d actually meet. Part of me wants to immerse myself in this land, to understand a part of me I never dreamed I would have the chance to know. And now that I have it, now that I’m here, it’s more difficult to say goodbye than I thought it would be.
But seeing Luc means more to me than anything else.
I close my eyes and fill my mind with thoughts of Luc. I don’t know where he is now, or even when now actually is for him, but I hope and pray he has remained in Hatton Grove.
Silver light bursts behind my eyes, growing and spreading until there is nothing but the light. I open my eyes and the light recedes until I’m standing in the dark. It is the dark of night. I’m back in my own world, in my front garden at Hatton Grove. Home.
Luc is seated on the front porch stairs, his head in his hands. As I take a step forward his head whips up, nostrils flaring, and he stares at me with obvious shock.
“Aleah? You’re...alive?”
A blur and he’s on me, lifting me into a tight hug and squeezing so hard I can no longer breathe.
