by K. J. Sutton
The girl was not especially skilled at making friends. She was too shy to approach anyone, and they saw her threadbare clothes as a mark of someone different. Someone who didn’t belong.
Years went by, and sometimes, all that kept the girl from looking for a way out of her lonely life was the thought of college. She’d heard that people were kinder there, and quicker to accept. That hope became the bedrock of who she was, the foundation she built everything else on, and the mortar was fear. Fear that she would always feel insignificant or unseen.
When she met David Wright, those thoughts went into a box, where they were only taken out on rare occasions.
All of this blazed through my mind like a wildfire. Two or three seconds later, Maureen pulled away, completely oblivious to the invasion of her privacy. There was no time to recover, because Dave was already leaning in for an embrace of his own. The taste of cloves and coffee coated my tongue now. I knew they were talking and I should probably respond, but my power was claiming Dave’s memories.
He was a more complicated man than I’d realized. From the moment we met, he had only treated me with kindness. He hadn’t attempted to step into a fatherly role, or spend any real kind of time with me, but he greeted me every morning, asked how I was at the dinner table, and bid me good night any time we saw each other before bed. He paid for my gymnastics classes, my clothes, and my food without a word of complaint. But, secretly, I always thought that he'd only adopted us because it was what Maureen wanted.
Now I knew how badly I’d misunderstood him.
Dave wasn’t afraid of the things I usually found beneath people’s skin—there were no spiders, no clowns, no heights—and when my insatiable power reached for more, consuming fear like it was an all-you-can-eat-buffet, I learned that he didn't worry about death, or pain, or loss.
What Dave did fear were his own memories.
They followed him and tormented him like poltergeists. Even the smallest things let them in, like bread popping up from the toaster—Dave’s mind interpreted the sound as a gunshot, and suddenly he was back there, running through smoke, his boots squelching in mud.
At that point, if Dave didn’t distract himself, didn’t yank his mind free of the memory quick enough, he would remember watching his best friend’s arm blow off. He’d see, for the millionth time, his own red-slicked hands, trying to stanch the blood pouring out of the gap in Owen.
And so he drank.
Dave moved through his life in an alcohol-infused daze. He smiled when he was supposed to, he carried a conversation without much effort, and he was capable of caring about the people that shared his orbit. Like Maureen, and the children, and his brother. But the drink made it all feel far away.
As Dave, too, pulled back, he didn’t seem to notice how I cringed.
Probably sensing my distress, Finn appeared in my peripheral vision and whined. He must’ve been on another hunt. Maureen’s eyebrows rose when she comprehended his size. “Did you get a dog? What breed is it?” she asked with a hint of trepidation in her voice.
“It’s huge!” Dave exclaimed. He held out his hand to Finn, palm-down, who gave it an unimpressed stare.
I still wasn’t convinced I was awake. My mind was slow to comprehend their words. “No. Well, yes. Sort of. What are you guys doing here? How did you even know where I was?”
“Damon invited us,” Maureen said.
As if he’d been standing on the other side, waiting for his cue, the front door opened. Finn saw his chance and loped inside. At the same time, Damon stepped onto the porch with Matthew perched on his hip. The smile that spread across my brother’s face was genuine.
Since Collith’s death, Damon had been kinder to me. Watching him smile at our adoptive parents, though, I realized that was all it was. Kindness. Not the warmth he’d shown me before I killed his monstrous lover.
“Who is this?” Maureen asked, looking at Matthew. The excitement in her voice made it obvious that she already knew.
Damon walked carefully down the stairs. He shifted the boy to his other hip. Matthew had the tousled hair and drowsy eyes of someone who’d just woken from a nap. Damon had just started the introductions when another vehicle rumbled up the driveway. This time, I recognized the truck instantly—it belonged to Bea and Gretchen. Dear Lord, how many people had Emma invited tonight?
“This is my son, Matthew,” I heard Damon say. I turned my head, catching their reaction to the news. Dave was already grinning, and one of Maureen’s hands rose to cover her mouth. Her eyes shone with tears as she reached out with the other to touch Matthew’s dimpled arm.
Maureen and Dave fawned over their new grandson while the other car parked. I finally descended the steps to meet my boss and her partner on the walkway.
“Why are you staring at me?” Bea asked, drawing closer. I steeled myself for the inevitable embrace. She must’ve noticed something in my expression, because she added, “For your birthday present, Gretchen and I won’t try to hug you.”
I shot her a grateful smile. “Honestly, I’m trying to remember the last time I’ve seen you outside the bar. You don’t look… natural, out in nature.”
Gretchen laughed while a line deepened between Bea’s eyebrows. “I think I’m offended,” she said.
A few seconds later, I introduced them to Dave and Maureen, who still hadn’t budged from Matthew’s side. The sun continued to lower, but we lingered on the lawn to make polite conversation. Thankfully, Emma appeared in the doorway and called that dinner was ready. Our small party headed inside, where it was warm and bright and the air smelled like marinara sauce.
Saving me from another round of introductions, Emma immediately went about learning names and shaking hands. Finn stretched out in front of the fireplace, his head resting on his paws. I searched the rest of the room, hoping to see Cyrus.
“Holy shit,” Bea exclaimed, noticing Finn as she turned. “Regina mentioned you’d been walking around town with a big dog, but… that is a big dog.”
“Yeah. He might have some wolf in him,” I said offhandedly, moving toward the table. Damon made a coughing sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
I sat down just as Collith came in.
Shit. I stood up so quickly the chair legs screeched. I hadn’t thought about how I’d explain him to my parents. Thanks to the Granby rumor mill, everyone had heard about it when Collith called himself my husband. Which meant that, as far as Bea and Gretchen knew, we were still married. Any way I looked at it, Maureen and Dave were going to find out I’d gotten hitched and hadn’t told them.
Happy birthday, me.
The low hum in my head sharpened into sounds, and I realized it was Collith’s voice. While I’d been standing there, mute with panic, he had apparently introduced himself. He was shaking Dave’s hand now, nodding at something the older man was saying. For the first time in weeks, he’d made an effort with his appearance—his face was cleanshaven and he wore a white dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong tendons. His dark jeans looked new. Maureen glanced between the two of us, her expression questioning, but I still didn’t know what to say.
Emma came to my rescue. “Please, everyone, sit down,” she urged, resting her hand against the small of my back.
Everyone moved to obey. Chair legs scraped over the floor and murmured conversations floated across the table. Damon left to get Matthew’s high chair while Emma and Gretchen went to fetch the food.
Within minutes, all of us were seated around a meal of my favorite foods.
At a glance I saw spaghetti, grilled cheese, and pancakes. Steam rose from the platters. I sat at the head of the table and stared down the length of it, disbelieving. When had Emma found the time to do all this? And she’d done it for me? I was silent for a few seconds as I struggled to sound normal. “Emma, this looks… amazing. Thank you.”
She smiled at me, wrinkles deepening around her mouth and from her eyes. “It was my pleasure, sweetheart. Collith, wo
uld you be willing to pour everyone’s wine? I completely forgot to do that earlier. Gretchen, would you pass that plate of tortillas to the right?”
There was a flurry of activity after she finished speaking, and over the next few minutes, I loaded my plate with every carb known to man. Just as I had during Emma’s impromptu bonfire, I found myself continually looking around the table. It was strange, seeing Emma, Bea, and Maureen together. Like three different lives coming together in a dizzying moment of déjà vu.
They were chatting amicably enough, the topic having something to do with Bea’s bar, but I couldn’t focus enough to truly listen. I also kept thinking of the reason I hadn’t wanted this party, the reason why I’d hoped to avoid bringing all these people together.
It felt like I didn’t deserve to be celebrated.
“The spring semester is starting at CU soon,” Maureen said without preamble.
Even before I raised my head, I knew she was talking to me. I was silent for a moment, hoping someone else would intervene, but the only sounds at the table were clinking silverware and Matthew’s soft fussing. Both Damon and Emma reached over at the same time to touch him in reassurance.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve just got a lot on my plate right now,” I said finally, poking at my pasta halfheartedly. No pun intended, I almost added. Something told me Maureen wouldn’t appreciate it.
“A lot on your plate?” she echoed, frowning. “Like what? Making cocktails and pouring beers every night?”
I looked at Bea, wondering what she thought about my foster mother’s comments, but she was making a point of thoroughly chewing her food. Gretchen caught my glance and gave me a gentle smile. Her wordless encouragement felt like an injection of calm. I refocused on Maureen and somehow managed not to glare. “There’s a lot going on in my life that you don’t know about,” I said, not unkindly.
But Maureen still interpreted it that way. “And whose fault is that?” she countered, her gray eyes flashing.
My fork clinked against the plate with a harsh sound. “Can we have this conversation another time?” I asked with poorly-concealed impatience. I reminded myself of everything I’d learned about Maureen on the driveway.
Then she said, “I don’t see how that’s possible, considering you won’t take any of my phone calls.”
“You know, I’m glad to see your education didn’t get in the way of—” I started. A knock at the front door cut me off. Probably for the best. Holding my fork so tightly that the edges pressed into my skin, I turned my attention to Emma. “Who else did you invite tonight? Wait, no! I’ve got it!”
Damon and Collith had started to rise. Eager to escape the room, I flew to my feet and darted toward the doorway. “Since you’re already standing, you may as well refill my wine,” I heard Emma say.
Once I was out of their sight, I stopped and pressed my back to the wall. Air rushed into my lungs, then slowly went out. I did it again. Feeling slightly calmer, I hurried to open the door before the newcomer knocked again.
Laurie stood on the other side.
“No. No way.” I started to shut the door in his face, but Laurie flattened his palm against it. His other hand held a bouquet of vibrant flowers.
“I heard there was a party happening.” He stepped into the light, and I saw that he was pouting. “My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail.”
Chair legs screeched against the floor. I glanced behind me, praying Collith hadn’t come to investigate. I spun back to Laurie and hissed, “Yes, I’m sure that’s what happened. Why don’t you go home and keep waiting for it?”
“Laurie!” Emma exclaimed, coming forward in a rush of perfume. “What a wonderful surprise. I was wondering if we’d ever see you again.”
Grinning, the Seelie King brushed past me and bent to kiss Emma’s cheek. He pressed the bouquet into her hands. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Miller.”
Emma was about to respond when Collith appeared in the doorway. He took one look at our latest arrival and said, his voice dangerously calm, “Get out.”
“Collith, that was rude,” Emma chided, cradling the flowers in the crook of her arm like a baby. “Laurie was a great help to us when we needed it. He’s always welcome at a family gathering.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Miller,” Laurie said warmly.
Beaming, she took his arm and led him into the dining room. Slowly, Collith and I trailed after them. “Please, call me Emma. There’s an empty chair right next to mine. Oh, Lyari, excellent. I was worried you wouldn’t get my text.”
Startled, I followed Emma’s gaze and looked behind me. Lyari stood in the entryway. It wasn’t her sudden arrival that made me blink; it was her appearance. I almost didn’t recognize my own Right Hand. In place of her armor, the faerie wore jeans and a white button-up shirt. It looked like she had actually put on some makeup, too—her eyelashes were darker than normal and a hint of pink highlighted her cheekbones. Her long hair was loose and curled. Her pointed ears were hidden beneath a powerful glamour that even I couldn’t see past. She looked like a college student. Like a human.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Lyari said politely. She looked so uncomfortable I almost snickered, which probably would’ve earned me a scathing glare.
Deciding to take pity on her, I turned toward the table again. The sight of Cyrus sitting in one of the chairs made me pause. Emotion swelled in my throat—I knew he was here for me. Cyrus Lavender hated gatherings like this. The only reason he managed at the bar was because he had his own space, his safe haven, and no one unfamiliar was allowed to enter it.
I didn’t worsen Cyrus’s discomfort by thanking him. Instead, I sat back down, noting as I did so that someone had put a leaf in the table. I hadn’t even known there was one. Lyari and Laurie got settled, and Emma left to put her new flowers in water. She returned quickly, holding a large vase, and Laurie stood to take it from her.
“Right in the center,” Emma instructed him, sitting in her chair like a queen. Laurie’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he acquiesced. The flowers ended up squarely in front of Collith’s plate. I watched him reach for his wine and down it.
For the next ten minutes or so, we actually managed to have a normal family dinner. Dave asked Bea a question about her truck. Gretchen complimented Laurie on his unique blazer, which had silver spikes around each shoulder. Then Maureen glanced between me, Collith, and Laurie and asked, “So how do you all know each other?”
Silence descended upon the long table. Perceptive, I thought. Maureen had always been too perceptive for her own good. Seconds ticked by, and no one answered her. I cleared my throat, stalling for time. “I met Collith at a… flea market. He and Laurie were… childhood friends.”
“Oh, we were more than that,” Laurie purred, winking at him. He stabbed a meatball with his fork and popped it into his mouth.
Collith had stiffened. In my peripheral vision, I saw Maureen frown. Emma looked at me, her eyes dark with confusion. She’d never asked about the specifics of my relationship with Collith, but she had probably assumed we were together—he lived with us, I spent more time in his room than my own, and I was constantly staring toward the barn like a lovestruck teenager.
“Seriously, don’t you have somewhere better to be, Laurie?” I snapped, glaring at him. “I hear Hell is lovely this time of year.”
Too late, I realized how this might affect Collith. He was staring fixedly at his glass, but the hand that held his fork was white. His veins stood on end. Laurie opened his mouth to answer me, and power rumbled through the air. The floorboards groaned and the ceiling beams creaked. Lights flickered overhead. Finn shot to his feet and growled.
Sequestered in another room, Stanley was barking now, and his fear drowned out whatever Maureen said next. Lyari had started to stand up. I caught her eye and shook my head, hoping the movement was subtle enough that no one else noticed. Collith struggled to regain control of himself, but he wasn’t looking at his glass anymore—he stared across the table at L
aurie.
“Collith,” I murmured. His head turned toward me, and our gazes met. Slowly, his irises returned to their usual, lovely hazel. The lights stopped flickering and the house went silent. Finn retreated to his spot in front of the fire, but he kept his eyes on us.
“Fortuna, what on earth is going on?” Maureen demanded after a stilted pause. She looked at Collith and Laurie again, and this time did nothing to hide her distrust. Even as her subconscious rushed to explain the flickering lights and rumbling walls, her human instincts were telling her something was different about them. “Who are these… people?”
I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. “They’re friends, Maureen. Just ignore anything Laurie says. It’s what I do.”
“Do you work with Fortuna at the bar?” Dave asked Lyari.
Subtle. Real subtle, I thought. My Right Hand took a bite of her pasta. “No. I work in… security.”
“What about you?” Maureen jumped in, her face turned toward Laurie. “What do you do for a living?”
His eyes twinkled. Before I could intervene he said, “Who, me? Well, I guess you could say I’m in politics. What about you, Collith? Think you’ll ever get back into politics, or are you just going to hide in the woods for the rest of your life?”
Ah, fuck. I steeled myself for chaos. But before Collith could react, Cyrus made a sound. Everyone turned their heads in his direction. His gaze was bright with distress, and he shook his head as if someone had asked him a question. He rubbed his hands together and started rocking. “I don’t like it,” he murmured, the words so faint I almost missed them. “I don’t like this fighting.”
My stomach churned as I understood. Shouts and fistfights broke out at the bar all the time, but Cyrus expected it there. This was his safe place. This was where nothing unexpected ever happened.
“I’m so sorry, Cy,” I said. “You’re right. We’re in your home, and we shouldn’t be arguing here. We’re done now, okay? Emma, thank you for making dinner. It was delicious.”
