“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.”
Okay, that’s adorable. Eli smiled, imagining Henry Dale locked on to this research like it was one of his DIY projects. Since the man had never been interested in romantic relationships, he was now taking notes to try and support a friend.
“Hate to break it you,” Eli said, “but that only works in a script.”
“Are you sure?” Henry Dale asked.
“Well, I haven’t tested it, but I’m pretty sure if I blow off Iris’s wishes and try to force a reconciliation, she’ll call the cops and file a restraining order.”
Rowan nodded emphatically. “And she’d be right to do so.”
“Oh.” The old man was visibly crestfallen.
Guess he really thought he had it all figured out.
At least the burgers were delicious, as were the milkshakes. Rowan had the biscuits and gravy plate, and Eli smiled because he remembered inviting them to go to Bev’s before. He’d just thought it would be with him and Iris, not him and Henry Dale. Regardless, he savored the meal in good company, quietly taking comfort in the fact that Henry Dale wanted Eli and Iris to get back together so much. Hell, Eli wanted it too, but not at the expense of what was best for her. She needed time, and he planned to give it to her.
“My plan…is to wait,” he said eventually.
“That’s it?” Rowan asked.
“At some point, she might be willing to talk. I’ll stick around and hope that day dawns.” He dipped the last fry in ketchup and ate it.
“That’s not very romantic,” Henry Dale said. “At least, not according to the movies I’ve watched, which accounts for most of my knowledge. I got the rest from novels, but one of them was set during WWII, so I don’t think Eli going off to war is a viable strategy.”
Eli laughed. “I’m not enlisting. Hard pass.”
Rowan shook their head, still seeming fixed on the older man’s first point. “It’s sweet that Eli is willing to live on her time, you know? Not asking anything. Not expecting it either. But…hoping. You screwed up, you owned it. That’s all you can do.”
“You’re really wise for nineteen,” Eli noted.
“People say I’m an old soul. I was the only one in my family who didn’t see the point of trick-or-treating,” Rowan confessed.
It took a lot for Eli to confide this. “Frankly, I’ve blocked out a lot of my childhood. My mother died when I was young, I was bullied afterward…”
“Been there. It sucks.” Rowan reached over, touching his hand briefly in sympathy. Their mouth twisted. “With the bullying, I mean, not losing my mom. For better or worse, she’s out there praying for my soul as we speak.”