by Amy Patrick
I gazed right into her fever-bright eyes and made my vow in a way she could not doubt. I’m not lying. I will marry you. You know we won’t be able to bond and have children, but I’ll marry you tonight and never leave you. You won’t have to be alone ever again. Let’s go.
Her eyes changed then, the rage and madness draining from them, replaced by vulnerability and hope, and a glimpse of the old Alessia.
I think it might be too late. I’ve gone to the homes of many fan pod girls.
Oh no—Alessia, what have you done?
I didn’t mean to. I was looking for you. And her. Her eyes skipped to the side to see Macy lying unconscious on the grass. I didn’t touch any of them. I started to, but I couldn't do it.
Alessia’s eyes came up to meet mine, and they were haunted, frightened even. But one of them touched me. I’m sorry. I have killed them all, haven’t I?
Maybe not. If you’ll tell me where she is, we might be able to stop this before it gets out of control.
But how? Dr. Schmitt said it was unstoppable.
There is a way. If you’ll trust me. And help me.
She nodded, and her hand dropped to her side. Relief burst through me like a broken dam releasing water—she was going to cooperate and stop this insanity.
The second her gun was no longer pointing at Olly, a strange shimmer shook the atmosphere around us. A low hum vibrated my eardrums, causing a piercing ringing that was almost painful.
For Alessia, it was more than “almost.” She screamed and lifted her hands to clamp them over her ears. The gun fell from her hand to the pavement with a metallic thunk.
I scrambled to retrieve it. Alessia dropped as well, falling to her knees, then rolling onto the small patch of grass in the front garden, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and writhing in obvious agony.
“What’s happening to her?” Olly asked, her young, high-pitched voice tinged with fear.
Her mother, who’d seemed like a sweet, nurturing stay-at-home-mum earlier, now wore a wild, vengeful expression. Her piercing gaze was trained on Alessia, and she muttered a stream of nonsense words under her breath, stopping long enough to answer. “I’m sending her away. I won’t let her touch you, darlin’. Don’t worry.”
Fenella continued chanting without a break, standing beside her daughter, and staring steadily at Alessia’s body twisting in pain on the lawn.
Olly ran to the steps of the house where the two older women stood. “It doesn’t matter if she does, Mum. Macy and Nicolo brought me a cure for the Plague. I’ve already drunk it. The lady can’t make me sick now.”
“I’m going to make sure she can’t make anybody sick,” Ciarra said. “Where she’s going, there is nobody to glamour.”
“Mum,” Olly said, apparently still upset. “What are you doing? I’m scared. Why does she look all fuzzy like that?”
My eyes went back to Alessia’s convulsing form. She did look… odd. As I watched, her body seemed to lose substance, fading as if a low cloud passed in front of her, then she returned to clear view, then faded again. What was happening?
The chanting grew louder. My hair stood on end from the electricity in the air. I looked back at the front stoop where the Rowan women stood hand-in-hand, their eyes closed now. Though Olly did not join the mantra and appeared to be as freaked out as I was, one of her hands was now wrapped firmly in her grandmother’s. It was some kind of ritual, and she was part of it, willing or not.
This was my chance. While their attention was solely focused on Alessia, I scooped Macy’s unconscious figure from the lawn and ran toward the street. I’d have to leap over Alessia to get through the narrow garden exit, but with all the adrenaline charging through my veins, it would be no problem.
Just as I reached her and my feet left the ground, Alessia’s body faded once again, flickered, and then disappeared entirely. I came down hard on the other side of where she had been lying and whirled back around, unable to believe what I’d seen with my own eyes.
Olly let out a high-pitched scream. “Where is she? Where did she go?” Tears ran down her red face.
The two women stopped their incantation and opened their eyes, fixing them on me and Macy. I didn’t wait to find out the answer to Olly’s question. I turned and ran, pounding down the street toward the village center, praying my inborn speed and endurance would be enough to let us escape a fate similar to Alessia’s. Reaching the main street, I hailed a taxi and climbed in the back.
“What’s the matter with ’er?” the driver asked, craning his neck for a look.
“Hangover,” I said, and he snickered. “Bristol airfield please—and hurry. We’ve got a plane to catch.”
As he pulled away from the curb and sped down the street, I kept my eyes on the rearview mirror, praying we’d seen the last of Olly’s family.
Macy made a faint sound. I looked down to see her eyes flutter open.
“Nic… where are we?”
“We’re in a car. On our way to the airport.” For the driver’s benefit, I added, “I think you had a little too much to drink.” Or rather—the wrong drink, as in, a witches’ brew in your tea cup.
“Is Olly okay?”
“I think so. Yes, she looked fine when we left. No need to worry.” I decided not to mention her obvious distress at seeing a person disappear into thin air.
“What… was I hallucinating… or was Alessia there?”
“She was.”
“What happened? Where is she now?”
I answered her as honestly as I knew how. “I don’t know, piccola. I don’t know.”
“I’m tired, Nic,” she said, her eyelids drooping again.
“I know. Rest again. You are safe.” For now.
26
Macy
I woke with a start, lifting my head and looking around, not sure at first where I was. Seeing Nic’s warm brown eyes looking down at me, I relaxed. Oh, the plane. We were on the plane. And it was on the ground.
“Where are we? Have we left England yet?”
He chuckled. “You slept right through England, piccola, and the entire Atlantic ocean. We are in the States again.”
I nodded and sat up. I’d been sleeping with my head on a pillow in his lap, apparently. “Did you ride like that the whole flight—with me sleeping on you?”
He nodded and grinned. “You snore.”
“I do not.”
“Yes. You do. It was very entertaining.”
I covered my mouth, partly from embarrassment, partly to shield him from my morning breath. “I’m so embarrassed.”
He laughed. “I’m only kidding. And even if you did, I’m sure you’d have the cutest snore imaginable.”
I scooted from our aisle and headed for the bathroom. When I got back, Nic had gathered our luggage and was waiting for me to de-plane with him.
“Are we back in Mississippi?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. Wait and see.”
I gave him a quizzical glance. “Why?”
Emerging from the plane, I had no more clue as to our whereabouts than I did before. But as the car pulled out of the airport property and onto a highway, I recognized the surroundings. I pivoted to face Nic.
“We’re in Missouri? We’re in Joplin. Why? Why are we here?”
“We’re going to see your family. What is your address?”
In shock, I rattled off the street name and number. “Does my family know I’m coming home?” I had no idea what all Nic had been up to while I slept during the eight-hour plane flight, but apparently he’d been busy.
“They don’t. I didn’t know how to call them. But they’ll be happy, right?”
I wasn’t sure. And I wasn’t sure if I was happy about this development. “I want to stay in a hotel—just for tonight, okay? I’m not ready to face them twenty minutes from now. I need to think.”
He took my hand. “I understand. But I think it’s important that we go there without delay.”
“Why? What’s happened? Di
d Alessia visit them or something? Are they okay?”
“Yes, yes, calm down. They’re fine. Wherever Alessia is—I’m pretty sure it’s not Joplin, Missouri. Olly’s mother mentioned sending her to a place where she couldn't harm anyone with her glamour.”
I let out a breath, experiencing a sudden influx of elation. “So it’s over then? We got the cure to Olly, and if Alessia is gone, there’s no way the virus will be activated in the other girls. Nic—this is great.”
I hugged him, and he returned it, but when we pulled apart again, I could see he didn’t share my sense of relief.
“Macy… I’m afraid it’s not over. I should explain. Olly’s house was not Alessia’s first stop.”
“What does that mean?”
“She told me she’d visited other fan pod girls, and one of them touched her. She didn’t get the chance to tell me where. I spoke to Estelle on the phone before we left England, hoping she’d have some information, but so far, there are no reports of an outbreak—or at least it’s not big enough yet to have made international news. But it’s happening. The news will be coming at any time now.”
“Oh no. We have to get to the other girls as quickly as possible with the treatment. Why did we come back to the States? The outbreak is happening overseas, isn't it?”
“Because there’s more,” I said, filled with dread at having to tell her the terrible truth. “Before we left Altum, Wickthorne warned me—if the virus was activated and began to spread, there would not be enough antidote to treat everyone in time.”
I squeezed his hands. “Then we should be going to Mississippi, so they can make more. I can donate more blood, and they can create more antidote. Nox’s healer can fly out and help, and maybe there are other Elven healers who can come and help as well. We should be going back to the airport.” I leaned forward, intending to tell the driver exactly that, when Nic’s touch on my arm stilled me.
“Macy—the problem is not a lack of healers.” A long pause. “There is not enough blood.”
“I said I’ll donate more… oh…” My words dried up as I understood his meaning. It wouldn’t be just a donation. It would be a total sacrifice. It would take all I had to give.
I drew in a shaky breath and swallowed. “It’s okay.” I nodded and made my voice stronger than I felt. “It’s okay. I want to do it.”
“No.” The word was quiet and as solid as a stone pillar.
“Yes, Nic. There’s no other choice. I have to. Do you really think I’d let the human race be wiped out so I can live?”
“No, I know better than that. That is why I’ve brought you back home.”
My jaw dropped. “Were you planning to try to hide me here with my family or something? While the world dies around us?”
“No. Macy, listen to me. I knew, of course, that you’d volunteer to sacrifice yourself—but I will not allow that.” He held up a hand to silence the protest that was already on my lips. “And before you tell me it’s not up to me, hear this—even if you did give your life and every ounce of blood in your body, it would still not be enough to treat the whole planet. It would be a needless sacrifice, and most of the population would still die.”
“I have to do something, though.”
He nodded in agreement. “I know. And that is why we’re here. I’ve brought you back to your family… so they can help us find your other family. The only hope we have left of saving the humans now—is finding your birth mother and the rest of your people. We have to find out where the nymphs are hiding… and beg them to share their magic.”
* * *
A year and a half after leaving to backpack around Europe, I stood once again on the covered front porch of my childhood home. It was almost surreal to be here. Nothing had changed. The wooden porch swing creaked on its chain hinges. A small placard over the mailbox read, “Moreno Family.” In the summertime the porch would be hung with ferns, but now it held a tray for muddy boots and a blue doormat decorated in oversized snowflakes above the words, “Let it Snow!”
A grapevine wreath on the door was studded with sprigs of evergreen and white ribbon—my mom hated that time after Christmas and before spring when the trees had no leaves and days were short. She’d always strived to hold onto the festive holiday feeling until spring arrived.
Fumbling for my house key, I noticed my palms were sweaty—in February.
I glanced up at Nic. “I’m not sure I can do this—not after what happened.”
He smiled in encouragement. “They’re your family. They’ll be happy to see you. And a lot of time has passed. A lot has changed.”
He was right. I wasn’t the same girl I’d been when I’d left here. I’d been certain I could never take on any responsibility again. I’d believed everyone was better off without me. But thanks to my time in Nic’s fan pod and the entirely new world he’d introduced me to, I had a whole new sense of purpose—a new understanding of myself. I was useful and responsible and valuable. Maybe even a little brave. I’d saved Olly’s life. And I had no intention of stopping there.
Feeling a bit stronger, I inserted the key and turned, opened the front door and called out to my family as Nic and I stepped inside.
“Mom? Dad? Lily? Anybody home?”
There was a scurry of footsteps. My mother came into view, wearing the same cozy blue velour track suit and sheepskin-lined slippers she’d always favored on weekends. Her eyes and her mouth flew open wide at the same time.
“Macy! Baby, I had no idea you were coming home. Oh my word. Joel, Lily—Macy’s home.”
She hurried to me and embraced me, squeezing hard and letting out an abrupt sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry. It’s just such a surprise. A wonderful surprise. I’ve missed you so much, honey.” Pulling back and regarding my companion, she said, “And who’s this?”
“Mom, this is Nic—”
My father jogged into the foyer, followed closely by Lily in her wheelchair. I hugged them both in turn. By the time we were all hugged out, tears were running down my own face. I stepped back, laughing with relief and joy. They were happy to see me—truly happy. I hadn’t expected that. I had it so built up in my mind that they resented me or harbored some sort of wish that I’d just go away or something. It shocked me to realize how much I’d been missed.
And I’d missed them. Fiercely. “Wow, look at you,” I said to Lily. “You look at least sixteen,” I teased.
She beamed in return. “You look the same. Or, mostly—your hair is longer.”
“You should have seen it a few weeks ago—it was platinum.”
“Awesome,” she exclaimed, clearly delighted. Grabbing my hand, she pulled it toward her face. “And you have a giant rock on your finger.”
Of course she would notice—she was at eye level with my hand and completely obsessed with weddings.
“What?” Mom snatched my left hand and brought it up into view. “Oh my word. You’re engaged?” She turned back to Nic. “I’m so sorry. We’ve all been so excited about seeing Macy again, we’ve been horribly rude to you. I’m Natalie. This is my husband Joel and Macy’s sister Lily.”
Nic smiled. “I feel as if I know each of you already. Macy has talked about you frequently.” He offered his hand to my father then my mother, then bent to shake hands with Lily. “Nicolo Buonoccorsi. Macy’s fiancé. Please call me Nic.”
They all stared at him for a moment, as dazzled by his appearance as everyone was. My mom spoke first, stretching one arm around my shoulders and the other around Nic’s back. “Well, let’s get out of the foyer and into the den where it’s more comfortable. Just leave your shoes on, honey, it’s fine,” she said to Nic. “We’ve got a fire going in here, and we can all sit down and talk.”
Once we were all seated, Dad said, “I’m so glad to get a chance to meet you Nic. You’re going to have to explain to us how you and Macy met. There’s so much to ask, I’m not even sure where to start.”
“I’ll start,” Lily said. “When are you getting ma
rried? And have you picked out a dress yet?”
I grinned at her. “No, I haven’t. You have to help me with that.” Addressing the rest of them, I gave a highly edited Spark notes version of our relationship. “We met when I was in France. Nic grew up there—on the island of Corsica. We spent some time together and really liked each other.”
“I loved you,” Nic corrected. “Almost at first sight.”
I smiled and continued, blushing. “But then I came back to the States. We didn't reconnect until he came here recently. He found me, and the feelings were all still there. We got engaged two days ago.”
“How wonderful.” Mom clasped her hands over her chest. “You look so happy, Macy.”
“Is that why you decided to come on home?” Dad asked. “Not that you need a reason. I was just starting to wonder if you ever would.”
“That’s part of the reason,” I said, wondering if it was too soon to get into the rest. But time was critical. The virus could be spreading at this very moment. We needed to stop it before it got out of control, like a wildfire ripping through the population of Europe.
Nic and I had talked on the way here—we knew what we needed to accomplish, and we had a plan. We’d come up with a cover story for why I’d be asking about my birth mother now, after all this time, but I wasn’t sure how it would fly with my parents.
“The other reason is that I wanted to find out anything you can tell me about… my birth mother.”
“Oh.” Mom sat back in her chair, clearly stunned.
“Why’s that?” Dad asked. His expression and tone stayed neutral—he’d always been better at concealing his emotions than Mom had. “You’ve never even asked about her before. Are you hoping she’ll come to the wedding or something, honey? Because you know she wanted it to be a closed adoption. She didn’t want to be contacted. Maybe she’s changed her mind by now, but she could be married, she could have other kids and never have told them or her husband she put a baby up for adoption when she was younger.”
