The Only Purple House in Town (Fix-It Witches, #4)(83)
That was the only answer that made sense. Awe and wonder pervaded her from head to toe; this must be how humans felt since the dawn of time when confronted with immortality. Yet Iris had no sense of how she was supposed to handle a couple of powerful, ancient entities suddenly porting into her basement laundry room. Behind her, the antiquated washing machine sloshed without decorum, rumbling through the beginning of the cycle.
For lack of any better ideas, she bowed. “Uh. Hello. Welcome.”
To her utter astonishment, they rushed to her and embraced her on both sides. They spoke in a strange language, except…the more they said, the more it started to feel familiar. Sounds gained meaning, and then, suddenly, she did understand every word.
“We found you,” the fair one said.
“Our precious blossom,” the dark one added.
Iris had a hard time getting her breath, let alone finding words. The hold they had on her wasn’t painful, but it had a strange effect. “I don’t understand.”
“Come with us.” The taller one pointed to the shimmering doorway. “You don’t belong here. We’ll explain everything once we’re home.”
Somehow, she found the fortitude to withdraw, stepping away from the powerful grasp that made her skin feel too small. “I… No. This is my home. I’m willing to hear you out, but I’m not just…following you into the light. In case you didn’t know, for humans, that’s a euphemism for death.”
“But you’re not human,” said the fair one.
How freaking weird—it was like they spoke with the voice of a wind chime, eerie, charming, and wholly disconcerting.
“I’m still coming to terms with that, okay? But I’ve been raised as a human for twenty-seven years, so cut me some slack.”
The taller being seemed surprised, touching their partner’s arm in apparent dismay. “Twenty-seven mortal years? Has it been that long? We were looking for a baby. We didn’t recall how differently time moves between the realms.”
“Can we speak in more agreeable environs?” the fair one asked with a flicker of distaste for the exposed pipes and wires suspended above the cracked cement floor.
“Oh, sure. Let’s go upstairs.” Iris led the way and ran into Sally, who was making tea in the kitchen.
The older woman nearly dropped the porcelain pitcher when the other two came in. “Uh. Holy crap. We have…guests. Otherworldly guests.” She lowered her voice to a whisper that the others could doubtless hear. “Help me out. Angels? Demons?”
“Fae,” said the fair one.
“I think it might unsettle them less if we conform to our environment.” After saying so, suddenly, two human-looking people stood there instead of the flickering, light-crowned beings: a dark-haired, dark-skinned person and a second with blond hair, fair skin, and dark-blue eyes. “Is this less unsettling?”
“Sure,” Iris replied because everything was surreal at this point.
“I’ll bring the tea. Why don’t you chat in the living room?” Sally pressed her hand to her chest; too many surprises, Iris guessed.
I feel the same. These must be my…parents, right? But I’m sure they didn’t have me the human way. How did I end up here?
Iris glanced around the front room, wondering what they made of the place. Taking a breath, she sat in the chair opposite her baffling visitors, who were clearly trying to seem less…alien. And not wholly pulling it off—mostly because they still sparkled, glimpses of iridescent magic that couldn’t be contained by a human exterior. She gazed at them with amazement and fascination, trying to find connections.
“I’m sure you have questions. First, I’m…Rain. I think that’s how it would translate.” The fair-haired one offered a gentle smile, reiterating their name in the fae tongue, which indeed was more of a feeling, like a gentle rainfall on a spring morning.
“And I’m Fen.” The other guest proffered the same experience in their native idiom, only it was quieter and more somber, a pensive ramble through a rolling marshland while birds called among the reeds.
Rain added, “You are our beloved child, I have no doubt.”
“And you must be wondering how we lost you.”
The way they did that was freaking incredible, a seamless switch as if they shared the same brain. Iris wondered how she could possibly be related to such magical beings.
But before Iris could speak, Rain made a soft, pained sound. “Ah. I see how they’ve hidden you from us. Be still—this might hurt.”
That was the only warning she got before her world exploded in agony.
* * *
“I don’t think that’s a good idea at all,” Eli said, once he heard Henry Dale out.
The old man had evidently been bingeing old romantic comedies because he seemed to think a good grovel and a boombox would resolve the issue. Who knew he’s secretly a romantic at heart? For other people, anyway.
Rowan was already shaking their head, echoing Eli’s doubts. “You know I love you, HD, but that’s a terrible plan.”
“Why?” Henry Dale demanded in an earnest tone. “I’ve watched seven of those movies now, and it always works. I even doubled-checked it at the library. I borrowed four different romance novels! Eli just has to do a…‘grand gesture’ I think is what they’re called. He needs to express how sorry he is, that’s all.”