What to Do When Your Elf is Broken?
The elf goes pale.
He looks at me…looks at Rowan…and then looks at me again. “Are you a sorceress?”
“What kind of question is that?” I ask incredulously. “I’m a pixie.”
“This has to be a trick. What are you doing?”
“I’m not doing anything,” I protest, mildly offended.
Before this can go any further, Rowan says to Ryder, “When you were seven and I was eight, you, Marshall, and I were jumping off Torrin’s bridge even though our families told us not to. You hit shallow water and broke your leg. You told your parents you fell off your bike.”
“How do you know that?” Ryder demands.
“When I got my driver’s license, you and Marshall convinced me to ditch school and drive us to Lake Champlain and spend the day fishing. My uncle took away my keys for a month and fired the parking garage attendant who let us leave.”
Ryder stares at Rowan, his eyes narrowed…looking rather freaked out. “All right. But if you’re really Rowan, you would know why I can’t help you.”
“It’s because that blasted elemental elf nearly stole all your magic, and what’s left of it is broken,” Rowan snaps. “But I didn’t think you’d want me to tell Kit that.”
Ryder looks over at me, raw embarrassment flickering across his face. But my mind isn’t on the elf right now.
Rowan’s declaration hits me like a rock. I sink onto a chair, staring at the wall of tea, feeling a wave of hopelessness wash over me.
If Ryder can’t help us, who can? How in the world will we find another elf?
“Hey.” Rowan flies to the back of my chair. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” I whisper.
“You’re going to make it rain again,” he warns.
“Rowan.” I turn to look at him, searching his eyes, seeing that boy in the picture and not the owl. “What are we going to do?”
He ruffles his feathers, silent—because he doesn’t have an answer.
“Rowan?” Ryder finally utters, dumbfounded. “It’s actually you?”
Rowan makes a soft hoo.
Ryder pulls out the chair beside me and lowers himself onto it, rubbing his hands over his face. “Give me a minute.”
I focus on the elf instead of my breaking heart. I want to cry; I want to scream. I’ve let myself become so invested, and now we’ve hit a dead end.
“You disappeared seven years ago,” Ryder finally says, dropping his hands. “Where have you been?”
“Here,” Rowan says quietly.
Ryder swears, startling me. “What the oblivion, Rowan? And you never came to me? To Marshall?” The elf’s green eyes flash. “Does Marshall know?”
“The only one who knew was Laverna.” He growls. “And now Kit, Ash, and Ansel.”
“Ash already knew,” I say softly. “He just didn’t say anything.”
Ryder shoves his hand into his hair, reeling. “What happened?”
Rowan tells his story, and I listen numbly, my mind working.
We need an elf.
Where are we going to find another one?
“Keira,” Ryder suddenly whispers. “Oh, stars, Rowan. What about Keira?”
“Don’t,” Rowan says, sounding exhausted. “Just leave her be. She’s already moved on with her life.”
“She thought you abandoned her,” Ryder whispers harshly. “You can’t let her live her life thinking that.” He pales. “Your uncle.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Rowan says stiffly.
“Rowan—”
“No.”
Ryder suddenly stands and pulls out his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” Rowan demands, flapping his wings, highly agitated.
When Ryder walks away, refusing to answer, Rowan leaps from the chair and dive bombs him, knocking the cell phone clean from his hand.
“What the—” Ryder cuts himself off, turning to glare at Rowan, who lands on the back of a different chair. “What’s your problem?”
“What do you think my problem is? I’m a bird!”
Ryder picks up the phone, looking tempted to heave it at his feathered friend.
“You can’t call Keira,” Rowan warns.
“I don’t even have her number.”
“Then who were you calling?” Rowan demands.
“Marshall.”
“Marshall from the garden store?” I ask numbly, realizing he’s entered this conversation several times. They must have been friends.
Ryder nods, staring at Rowan like a disappointed father. The elf I thought I knew is gone. He’s solemn now, the sparkle missing from his eyes.
“I don’t want anyone else to know,” Rowan finally says. “There’s nothing you can do to help, so what’s the point?”
“The point is letting people know you didn’t abandon them, Rowan.”
A crash of thunder startles me, and I jump in my seat.
“Kit.” Rowan returns to the back of my chair. “If you cry, it’ll start pouring. Then Ash will know you’re upset, and he’ll run over like your pompous knight in shining armor. And no one wants that.”
I laugh because his voice is gentle despite the snarky words—concerned even. “I’m trying not to cry. I’m sick of crying.”
“Come on.” He head-butts my shoulder. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. This is not fine.”
Ryder watches us, a grim expression on his face. “How much magic do you need?”
“No,” Rowan says immediately. “It’s too dangerous. You could blow yourself up.”
“Then we better get it right the first time.”
A knock at the door makes me grit my teeth.
“Now you’ve done it,” Rowan mutters, but he sounds resigned. “You might as well let him in.”
I cross the tea shop, trying to get control of myself. Ash steps inside as soon as I open the door, catching my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“Why didn’t you tell me Ryder’s magic was scarred?”
“He didn’t know,” Ryder says wryly. “But thanks for sharing.”
I glance at the elf over my shoulder, wincing. “Sorry.”
He shrugs, resigned.
“It’s not going to work,” I tell Ash. “Siphoning my magic, turning Rowan back—all of it.” I hiccup back tears that are growing more insistent.
And then the rain begins.
Ash drops his hands. “I told you this was a fool’s mission. I’ve been looking for an answer for years with no success.”
Feeling defeated, I let my head fall forward, resting my forehead against his chest.
“I don’t like that,” Ryder mutters to Rowan.
“Neither do I.”
“Ignore them,” I say to Ash, staring resolutely at the floor.
“I have been for years.” But he takes a step back, separating us like he’s uncomfortable with this public display of affection. “I have to go back to my office. Do you want to come with me?”
“I want to talk to Ansel.”
“His shop doesn’t close for several hours.”
“Rosalie is there, isn’t she? Doesn’t she watch the counter?”
“Patience, Kit,” Ash chastises. “Rowan will still be an owl at five o’clock.”
A little stung, I cross my arms, nodding.
“I need to go. I’ll meet you here as soon as I get off work, all right?”
“Okay.”
“Cheer up.” He glances outside, frowning. “The tourists are running for cover.”
I force a smile, feeling as far from sunny as possible.
Ash’s eyes move over my face. He looks like he wants to say something, but he steps outside instead, running across the street, his expensive suit getting all wet.
“I warned you,” Rowan says blandly.
I turn back, sighing. “Ash is abrupt, but he’s not unkind. I think I hurt his feelings.”
“You hurt his feelings?” Ryder asks.
“I keep falling apart because of Rowan. I’m sure it’s uncomfortable for him.”
Ryder turns to Rowan, a smirk finally ghosting across his lips. “He’s even jealous of you when you’re a bird.”
Rowan laughs, and I roll my eyes, walking past them.
“Where are you going?” Rowan asks, leaving the chair to follow me.
“I’m making tea.”
“May I have tea?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re annoying.”
He laughs again, his mood a little brighter than it was before Ash arrived. “Why?”
“I’m going to go,” Ryder says before I can answer Rowan, eyeing us. “You’re going to Ansel’s after he closes?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Call me when you leave. I’ll meet you there.”
“You’re not helping us,” Rowan says to his friend, his tone clipped.
“I am. Don’t forget to eat your cake, Kit.”
“Thank you for coming by,” I say, sullenly browsing the tea options.
Ryder steps into the rain and runs down the street, heading toward the bakery.
Rowan clears his throat when we’re alone, the air heavy between us like he wants to say something.
“What?” I ask.
“Do you really keep crying because of me?”
I scowl at him. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
He flies up to the top shelf when he sees me scooting the stool over. “I’ll push it down. Can you catch?”
I extend my arms and nod.
He nudges the tin, and it falls right into my hands.
“Chai?” he asks.
“It’s comforting. Maybe if I drink it, it will stop raining.”
“What upset you last night?”
“Nothing,” I answer immediately.
“The rain was stopping, and then suddenly it was coming down in torrential sheets. Next thing I know, it’s slowing down again, and you showed up at the house. Something happened.”
“There are other pixies in town, you know.”
“But you are the only one the clouds adore. They sob every time you sniffle.”
It’s so preposterous, I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“What happened, Kit?”
I open the tin and stare at the tea, focusing on the smell of cloves, cardamon, and cinnamon. “I saw a picture of you.”
“At Ash’s?” he asks, startled.
I swallow, nodding. “He has one of those digital picture frames. Do you know what those are?”
“I’m only four years older than you, Kit. Four.”
“Okay, so you do. Well, anyway. Ash has one. It has lots of pictures on it. Some with your family. Some landscapes…”
“He fancies himself a photographer,” Rowan scoffs.
“They were pretty good,” I admit.
He grunts.
“And then one of his high school graduation.” I spoon the tea into a small saucepan. “Your high school graduation.”
“How’d you know it was me in the picture?” he asks carefully.
“You looked owlish.”
“I swear—”
“I just knew, okay? And the boy fit your description.”
“What did he look like?”
“Tall, reddish-brown hair. Good-looking.”
He preens a little. “I told you I was.”
I laugh, on the verge of crying again. “For a teenager.”
“It’s all right—you can admit you want me. It’s a bit weird though, when you think about it.”
Tilting my head back to contain my tears, I laugh again. When I get control of myself, I look back at him. “I don’t want you to waste your life like this. I’m going to help you, Rowan. I don’t know how, but I swear we’re going to change you back into a man.”