“The nerve of that man!” Marigold said for the umpteenth time. “He did not just show up willy-nilly, all flirty and fiery, and expect that I’m just going to melt in his presence. No way. No how.”
“He is a fire elemental. Melting isn’t out of the question.” I poured us both a cup of coffee and moved it to the center island. “Donut?”
“Yes, please,” she said, snatching a cinnamon twist. “Since I brought them.”
After the bonfire, Keir had taken me home when the festivities closed, then he, Lu, and Zev had set about relocating the pixies to their new nesting digs on the mountain. I told them I would join them after I met with my family to talk to dad.
Michael was still at Doug’s. I would tell him about his coach this weekend before he went back to school on Monday. I had some breathing room before Michael had to confront the fact that his coach was a magic-sucking sorcerer or demi-god. Ugh. The fact that I had to talk to my teenager about this stuff was mind-boggling.
I hadn’t been surprised when Marigold had come over this morning with donuts. I was pretty sure she’d been sent by Rowan and Rose to make sure I showed up at Dad’s for the big family meeting. I had missed a few…okay, all the family dinners because, hello, unstable magic. Yep. Did that make me someone irresponsible who needed an escort? Maybe. Still, I was glad for the company and the sugary, fried pastry.
My sister dragged her finger around the rim of her mug. “Jordan is really sexy.”
“Nope.” I put my hand on hers to stop her musing. “He’s dangerous.”
She clucked her tongue. “Then he’s just my type.”
“Hah. But no.” I still wasn’t sure why Jordan was in Southill Village, but I didn’t buy his explanation. What kind of demi-god needed a job? Even if he didn’t have an ulterior agenda, I didn’t want his “you might not get what you want, but you get what you need” juju near Marigold. I didn’t know what she needed in her life, but an immortal dude whose last love died in his arms wasn’t the answer. “Stay away from him, Mar. I mean it.”
I walked to the window and peered out at the garden. Linda wasn’t in her normal place facing the bench. It dawned on me that I hadn’t seen her since the night before when my tornado tried to take out the kitchen. Not that you could tell. They might be a nuisance, but the pixies were handy little suckers.
“Are your flying guests still here?” Marigold asked.
“Nope. How’s work?” I asked, changing the subject. I didn’t want my sister entrenched in the troubles that surrounded the magical side of my world.
“Good.” Marigold taught Women’s Studies at Darling University. “I’ve tasked my students to identify and write a five-page essay on a woman in history who they believe has furthered the cause of feminism.”
“You know you’re going to be grading a dozen papers on Ruth Bader Ginsburg.”
“They could pick worse than the Notorious RGB—may she rest in peace—but I’d love to see some of them get creative with their choices.”
I snorted a laugh. “Be careful what you wish for.”
She gave me the stink eye. “Are you going to tell the family?”
“I think they already know about Ginsburg.”
“Don’t get cute,” Marigold said.
“Look at me.” I winked at her. “It’s too late for that.”
“Are you going to tell our family that you’re a witch?”
“With Dad falling and all, it’s not really the right time, is it?” I sat down next to Marigold and nudged her with my shoulder. I inhaled the nutty aroma of the coffee as I took a sip. The taste, along with the caffeine, gave me life. “I’m not sure they’re ready to know. I feel like I haven’t had time to lay down the groundwork.”
“Come on,” Marigold said. “You’re not ready. This doesn’t have anything to do with them and everything to do with you. What are you so afraid of?” She cupped her mug with both hands as if to keep them warm. “You’re pushing the family away. Distancing yourself. It’s like you’ve discovered your real identity, and you’re turning your back on your old one. The one that has a brother and sisters and a dad.”
Her words were like a cold slap. “I’m not,” I denied. “I’m not doing that at all. I would never turn my back on you guys.”
“When was the last time you called Rose?”
“I see Rose four times a week.”
“Because she comes over here to train you, but have you called her just to talk? Or Rowan? Or Dahlia?”
She was right about our oldest two siblings. I’d talked to Rowan a few times because of the medical scares my new magic had caused, but otherwise, I’d avoided him and his questions that I wasn’t ready to answer. As for Dahlia, I couldn’t remember the last conversation I’d had with her that wasn’t more than a hi and goodbye. “I’m not doing it on purpose,” I told Marigold. “My life has been crazy for a while. Like dangerous crazy.”
“I get that.” She dusted cinnamon and sugar off the twist and back into the donut box. I could tell the conversation was painful for her. She was the happy-go-lucky sister. The one who nothing bothered. Only, I knew that wasn’t true. At the core of Marigold, she was a worrier, maybe even more so than Rose, but she knew how to make someone feel better without prying. This conversation was turning her into my personal crowbar. “All they see is that you’ve divorced, found someone new, and that you’re throwing every bit of your time into making a new relationship work.”
I was appalled at the observation. “That’s not what’s happening.”
Marigold lifted her fingers from the center island surface in a “whoa there” gesture. “I know that’s not what’s happening,” she said. “Because I know what’s happening. You told me the truth, so I don’t have to guess at it.”
My stomach churned as I considered her words. From an outside perspective, I could see how the rest of my family might think that I was throwing myself at Keir and making him my whole world. They couldn’t know that every day I was fighting for control, fighting for my life, and trying hard not to get anyone I loved killed in the process.
“You’re right,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” she asked. “I’m not sure I heard you.”
“You’re right.” I rolled my eyes at her. “I’ve been terrible. Mom would be ashamed.”
“Come on, Iris. A few months of ghosting your family doesn’t make you a monster or erase forty-odd years of being the best sister and daughter around.”
“Don’t let Rose hear you say that.”
Marigold giggled. “If you repeat it, I’ll deny it.”
I nodded, forcing a smile to my lips. With a lot of uncertainty, I fought the urge to run away and said, “I’ll tell them.”
“Today?” Her shoulders tensed. “I mean, we will all be together in a private setting where no one outside the family can overhear.”
“What about Don and the boys?”
“Nope. They won’t be there. Just us chickens. Or, in this case, Everlees.”
“Does it have to be today?”
“I won’t tell your secrets, Iris.” Marigold’s tone and expression grew serious. “But it’s taking a toll on me too. Every time they ask or worry about you to me, I have to make up excuses. I don’t like lying to them.”
“Oh, man. I am the worst.” I hadn’t even thought about what keeping the secret would mean for Marigold. “I should never have brought you into my mess.”
“I’m going to throat punch you,” she said. “You absolutely should’ve brought me into your mess. I’m not just your sister. I’m your best friend. These are the kinds of things you share with both. And as you recall, you didn’t exactly volunteer the information. I had to watch you catch yourself on fire. If I hadn’t, you’d still be keeping it from me.” Her last sentence ended with a cute pout.
“I looooove you,” I sang sweetly. With a coy smile, I bit into a powdered donut, then gave her a sugary, messy kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
Marigold leaned away from me. “All right. Don’t get carried away.” She brushed the sugar from her face. “I’m just saying, before your magic goes all whack-a-doodle in front of the rest of the family, it would be nice for them to hear it from you first.”
A tapping at the garden window drew our attention. Fair Konig, the pixie king, was hovering in front of the pane, frantically beating at the glass to get my attention.
Marigold’s eyes widened. “You definitely need to tell them before they see something like this because, unlike your elusive gnome friend, pixies in heat don’t seem to give a crap who sees them.”
I got up and opened the window. “I thought you guys were moving up the mountain.”
“Where is the monstrosity?” he demanded.
I winced at his tone. Even so, I had zero idea what he was going on about. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“The giant white and orange creature you call Bob!” His face was an unflattering shade of red.
“Bob?”
“Ja! Zee Bob!” His voice hitched up to a higher octave, making him sound squeaky. “He is a murderous, filthy imp.”
“Bob wouldn’t hurt a fly….” My mouth formed a small “o.” He was actually well-known for hunting down flies. Eeee. “Who did he murder?”
“Annibish!” Fair Konig exclaimed. “She was coming up with the second group of my troupe, but when they arrived, she wasn’t with them. I know my Annibish. She wouldn’t have left our people for any reason. Not unless she wasn’t able to fulfill her duty to our kin. It can only mean one thing.”
I covered my mouth. “No, not my sweet, innocent Bob. He would never.” But a part of me knew that he might, and that part was feeling sick with grief. “Are you sure?”
“She’s missing,” he hissed. “It can only be the Bob.”
“It’s just Bob,” I corrected him. “You don’t need the the.” I waved my hand. “You know what, never mind. Why do you think Bob, uhm, ate Annibish?”
“Who’s Annibish?” Marigold asked as she took a bite of her cinnamon twist and then proceeded to lick her fingers.
Fair Konig stared at her with the horrified expression of a man whose mate had been eaten by a cat.
Marigold blanched. “Sorry,” she said with a mouthful as bits of donuts tumbled onto the counter. She took a drink of coffee to wash it down. “My bad.”
“Annibish is Fair Konig’s wife,” I looked at the pixie to make sure I got it right. He didn’t say otherwise, so I continued with the explanation. “Last night, Bob got a little playful with her outside.”
“He attacked her,” the pixie revised. “He’s a vicious animal.”
Marigold shook her head. “Nah,” she said. “That doesn’t sound anything like Bob.”
“Did you see him, er…eat Annibish?” The question made me queasy.
“No,” Fair Konig admitted. “But she wouldn’t disappear without telling me. It has to be Bob.”
Bob was still in bed, the lazy chonky. I hoped he stayed there until I got this sorted. I nodded to the pixie king. “Okay. Let’s search the garden.”
His stare widened at me. “For what?”
I wasn’t sure how to say this next part nicely, so I just spit it out. “Bob doesn’t have a butthole, which means he doesn’t poop. This also means he technically doesn’t eat. Whenever he swallows bugs, he usually regurgitates them in a few minutes. Usually, somewhere around the garden.” I made an ick face. “It’s a bone of contention for Linda.”
“Are you telling me that my Annibish is in a pile of sickness somewhere out there?” He made a gesture toward the garden.
I nodded. “If Bob got her, then yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
Fair Konig zipped out the open kitchen window, off to find what was left of his missing love.
Marigold stood up, dusting crumbs from her tunic top. “Iris, you can’t do this right now. We have to go to Dad’s.”
I looked at my kitchen clock. “We have nearly an hour. I can’t not help him look. I mean, Annibish is a person too.” An extremely small person, granted, but a person all the same. “If Bob is responsible, I have to search for her. It’s the right thing to do.”
“You have thirty-two minutes to wrap this up. If you don’t find her by then, we’re going.”
“But—”
She cut me off. “No buts. There is always going to be some kind of magical disaster going on somewhere, but you have to make time for the people who matter.”
I ran my hands through my hair and groaned. “You’re right. It won’t take long to search the garden, and if we don’t find her, you know, chewed up, then this isn’t Bob’s doing.”
“I’m helping you look,” Marigold said. “It’ll be quicker that way.” She opened the back door, then her mouth dropped open as she slammed it shut. She turned to me. Her expression aghast. “Uhm, Iris. There’s a guy in your backyard with hairy legs and hooves, and I think he’s trying to catch the pixie king.”