Chapter 19

“Is someone going to tell me what in the hell is going on around here?” Kin demanded again, once we’d settled Lexi on the parlor sofa with a soft pillow cradling her head. I settled on the edge of the sofa, took her hand in mine, and tried to funnel some of my warmth into her. If Kin hadn’t been standing there, I’d have scooped a handful of Balefire and used that instead.

Soleil, Evian, and Vaeta looked to Terra, Lexi’s official godmother, for her opinion. “I say we tell him everything, "she declared. “I’ve had just about enough of tiptoeing around the situation. Agreed?”

Vaeta nodded, “I’ve been thinking the same thing for a while now.” Evian and Soleil nodded their agreement, and I watched as Kin’s world was flipped upside down for the second time.

“You might want to sit for this.” Terra waited for Kin to comply, but he remained on his feet and fixed her with an impatient look. If he’d had any memory of what she could do, he might have been more careful of his face. As it was, she flashed him a raised eyebrow, and he frowned but stood strong.

“I can’t remember how or why, but I know I’ve been here before.” Assured that Lexi was in no imminent danger of dying, Kin paced across the parlor to glance down the hall. “The kitchen is that way, and there’s something odd about that fireplace.” He turned to point toward the Balefire. “It all feels like a dream, or maybe I’m dreaming now.”

For all her fire, Soleil carried a tender heart, and was the one to try to comfort Kin. “It’s not a dream, and you’re right. You’ve been here before.” She stepped close to put a hand on his arm.

His gaze fell on Lexi again, and his face softened. “Something in me recognized something in her. I thought it was just a powerful attraction, but I have a feeling it was more. Tell me, and don’t hold anything back. Whatever it is, I can take it.”

Now I was starting to see why Lexi had fallen for him. Kin’s willingness to stand for her made me think fate and true love’s kiss were fine and epic events, but it was the day-to-day things that really counted. Yeah, I know. Hit me with the maturity stick. I’d be looking at my relationship with her father in a new light once there was time for a moment of contemplation.

Would Lexi be happy if someone dropped the witch bomb on Kin? Probably not, and call me selfish, but that was why I wasn’t jumping up and volunteering to be the one lighting the fuse. Let Terra take the heat on this one. After all, they’d offered to cut me out of Lexi’s life through whatever means necessary, so if this went in the toilet, I’d come out clean.

She hesitated a moment, then plunged right in. “Lexi is a witch.” The bald statement rang true. Even if Kin needed a moment to comprehend the words, he could see the conviction behind them.

“A real one, not the kind from television. And I’m her faerie godmother.” She let her everyday glamour slip just enough to give Kin a flash of the pink granite irises she hid from the mortal world. She could have shown him more, but freaking him out probably wasn’t her intention.

He blinked twice, stared at Terra, and then shot a glance at the front door, as if he was expecting Ashton Kutcher to show up any second and declare that he’d been Punk’d, but didn’t say anything.

Terra plodded on, “She’s also part god. Lexi, I mean. A Daughter of Cupid, a Fate Weaver. And on top of all that, she’s Keeper of the sacred Balefire flame.” She pointed toward the hearth.

“Sacred flame? Is that to keep the Easter Bunny warm?” His voice was filled with sarcasm, but I detected an undercurrent of hesitation. Deep down, somewhere in his subconscious, Kin held memories of all the supernatural components of Lexi’s life. Why those memories hadn’t surfaced until now was on Diana Diamond’s head, but I was grateful that at least one good thing might come from the mess we were all now mired in.

“No, the flame feeds the witch and the witch feeds the flame. It’s a symbiotic relationship—there’s more, but I’ll let Lexi tell you all about it when she wakes up.” Terra stopped talking and sized him up. “There’s more if you have the…guts to stick around.” She stopped short of revealing anything about Kin and Lexi’s romantic history, which I thought was more to spare herself from Lexi’s ire than anything else. “Decide now.” It was an order.

Kin hesitated, and for a moment, the loudest sound in the room was the pop and hiss of the Balefire flame. He shook his head as if to dislodge an errant notion and shot Terra the kind of indulgent smile generally used on young children who are convinced the boogie man lives under their bed. Only this one had a little edge of you’re crazy thrown in for good measure. It was the kind of look that would have earned him a taste of Terra’s unique brand of magical discipline had he used it on her with full knowledge of her Fae heritage.

“Enough.” Vaeta decided to put an end to the dithering altogether and dropped her glamour. She did a little twirl that set the dust motes around her spinning and sparkling in the light of the Balefire. She transformed into her mini form, complete with tiny faerie wings, and hovered right in front of Kin’s face. “Do you believe me now?” Her voice sounded like she’d inhaled a balloon full of helium, and under normal circumstances would have made me laugh out loud.

I thought his eyes were going to bug out of his head, and his Adam’s apple bobbled while he tried to swallow several times in a row. “Yep. I definitely do.”

“Good,” Terra said, as Vaeta reverted to regular size, “because we don’t have time to ease you into things. Trust me, you’ll get used to it. And faeries can’t lie, so you’ve got no choice but to believe us.”

When someone tells you they can’t lie, it’s generally the first thing you suspect them of doing, but Kin nodded and stepped back to flatten himself against the wall. His eyes flicked back and forth across the room while his brain worked to come to terms with what he’d just been told. When they fell on Lexi, they held both sorrow and joy.

Since he’d apparently decided to stay, Terra dismissed him and turned her attention toward me. “We have to call Clara and Margaret.” Her gaze traveled my face for any trace of an argument. I gave none, even though inside I was screaming that the last people I wanted to have to deal with tonight were my mother and my aunt.

The last time I’d spoken to Clara, we’d been locked in a convergence of ill-intended spells, the result of which had cursed me to a magical prison cell and rendered her a stone statue. That was twenty-five years ago, but the joint betrayal still stung, and she hadn’t made any attempt to contact me since Lexi had freed her with Cupid’s arrow and a ball of flaming Balefire.

Aunt Mag had always hated me, even when I was a child. She’d made no bones about the fact that she considered me a spoiled brat, and predicted I’d use my power for nothing but nefarious purposes. Unfortunately, she was partly right on that score. The last time we’d met, Lexi and I had broken into her house looking for clues to the Bow of Destiny’s location, and she’d made it clear that forgiveness wasn’t on the table.

Nobody had bothered to ask about my intentions, even though witches just love to harp on the importance of them when spellcasting. After a while, I stopped trying to justify my actions and simply did as I pleased. It may not have been the best series of decisions to have made, but I’d had my reasons and they weren’t as evil-minded as Mag wanted to believe. Truth be told, we had more in common than either of us would have liked to admit.

Terra strode across the room and pulled two medallions out of a drawer, pressing her fingers against the engravings. My mother and my aunt carried their companions, and once summoned could instantly skim to Port Harbor, giving me mere seconds to prepare myself for their arrival.

There was a murmur of voices as one of the faeries filled in the new arrivals and then, “Where is my granddaughter?”

The voice of my mother echoed through the front hall and down into the parlor, where I refused to move from my daughter’s side. The concern in her tone made me shiver and brought out a feeling of jealousy I hadn’t been expecting. Nor had I been expecting the sense of anticipation and hope. The dread I felt, though, was right on par. Hunching over, I held my breath.

When Clara reached the parlor and laid eyes on me, my Aunt Mag at her heels, I thought my heart might beat out of my chest or that my head might explode. She glanced between Lexi’s prone form and me, as if making a difficult decision. I swallowed hard and tilted my head toward my daughter, indicating to my mother that she should tend to her first.

Clara nodded and rushed to Lexi’s side. To be honest, I was grateful for the reprieve, even if she was careful to maintain some physical distance from me.

Salem bolted into the room, saw first Lexi, and then Clara. In a flurry of black fur, he transformed to his human form. “Lexi! Is she okay? What can I do? What do you need?” He turned to Mag and asked in a tone that suggested they shared a close relationship. Maybe they did, for all I knew.

“Start gathering everything with healing properties, and I’ll meet you in the sanctum.” She leaned down near Lexi, and ran her hands along my daughter’s hairline in a supremely loving gesture, then proceeded to take stock of her condition. Mag’s fingers probed Lexi’s temples, and her eyes ticked back and forth beneath closed lids as though she was looking for something. When she opened them, I couldn’t tell if they were filled with hope or defeat.

“She’s in stasis, as far as I can tell. If that thing had gotten his hands on her for any longer, she’d be dead. Her pulse is strong, but the longer she stays under, the more danger she’s in.” Part of me preened at the thought that my spell and quick thinking might have saved Lexi’s life, but if I thought my Aunt Mag was going to stroke my ego I was sorely mistaken.

“I’ll be back with the most potent potion I can brew on the fly. I certainly hope Lexi has kept the sanctum well-stocked. Otherwise, you’ll be taking a quick trip to the Fringe.” She shot me a scathing look, which I, with a concerted effort, largely ignored other than to nod in assent.

 

“I didn’t have anything to do with this, I swear,” I promised my mother when we were well situated in the rear corner of the backyard and therefore out of hearing range of even the faerie godmothers.

Clara’s expression ran through a gamut of emotions, some I recognized—like surprise and anger—and others I couldn’t put my finger on but hoped were more benevolent in nature. When she’d asked me to join her away from prying ears, part of me had wanted to run out the door and down the street as fast as my legs could carry me. But, if there’s one thing you can’t call me, it’s a coward. “Of course you didn’t,” my mother finally sighed.

That threw me for a loop, but I ignored it and spat, “Well, Aunt Mag sure thought so.”

“That’s your problem, Sylvana,” Clara said, sharply. “You are constantly assuming that you know what everyone else is thinking. Unless you’ve become a telepath during the last twenty-five years, maybe you should make more of an effort not to do that.”

And here we went again, arguing as usual. I should have known no good would come from sticking around until Clara showed up, but I wasn’t about to abandon my daughter when she needed me. I’d done that too many times. I stood, ready to stalk back into the house and chalk our conversation up to another failed attempt at reconciliation when my mother reached out and touched my arm.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “As usual, that came out harsher than I intended. I’m a little nervous, if you want to know the truth. Asking for your forgiveness is something I’ve thought about for a very long time, and now I’m messing it all up.”

My eyes widened in amazement, “What do you mean, asking for my forgiveness? I’m the one—”

“No, you’re not. I mean, yes, you are, but just because you made a mistake doesn’t mean I didn’t make one too. More than one, truth be told. I had a lot of time to stand and think, and I realize that I failed as a mother in many respects. I should have done so many things differently, and now it’s too late.” A tear trickled down my mother’s face, and I could feel them welling up behind my eyes as well.

“I also had a lot of time to think,” I said around the lump in my throat, “and I’m aware that I was bratty and self-absorbed. And then—” My breath hitched, “And then I went and turned you to stone! I’m so sorry, Mother.” The tears flowed freely now, as memories of that day in the clearing washed over me like a downpour.

Clara wrapped her arms around me and sobbed, “I thought I’d killed you, Sylvana. My own baby girl. I thought I deserved to be turned to stone, and it didn’t take me long to accept that I’d spend eternity reliving our last moments. When you came back, well, I can’t tell you how much I wanted to jump up and down. And then things got all topsy-turvy. I wanted to find you, but when you didn’t come to find me, I thought you must hate me even more than you did before.”

“I never hated you, Mother. I love you. And I love Lexi too. We have to fix this. I want a relationship with my daughter. And, with you.”

“What about your Aunt Mag?” my mother asked, a twinkle in her still-teary eyes.

“We’ll see,” I said and pulled her closer still.