14.
Moth
T he cabin.
We are back at the cabin.
I imagine her lounging on our loveseat, a book in her hand. She kisses my lips and tells me her scheme worked. She has been waiting for me to return. But we search, and search, bickering and talking over each other—she’s not here.
Surrounded by her scent and wedding decorations, my compatriots and I lay together on the floor, displaced and discontented. The open portal glows by the bookcase, lighting our way back to Eclipsica. I am thankful my mother-in-law appears to have stepped out. Her minivan is not in the drive, and for now, the space is ours to wallow in.
If any of us dares to speak to Pepper, they just groan. Heather calls this ‘rotting’ —when your body simply will not allow you to do anything else. Perhaps it has been too much failure for us to bear.
“Friends, we must strategize,” Holly says, though she sounds exhausted. “She was under my watch. I am fighting the urge to run off on my own to fix things.”
“We were all right there,” Rosie reminds her. “I know I don’t have powers or anything like that, but we were all right there—and, and … what if we can’t find her? I mean, those portals, do you even understand how they work? It should have led us to her, right?”
It is correct for her to be upset. She is giving voice to every horrible thought I have had since the portal lead us back here.
“Enough,” I groan, but my racing thoughts do not settle down even in silence. I need her back with me. “Our focus should be on finding a way to break the bond. Is it possible without the vampire king’s cooperation?”
Holly shakes her head. “The magic that seals things like that is binding to your very soul—”
“Damn, it’s bad enough that Heather is missing. Magic binding her soul sounds … concerning.” Rosie groans. “What are we going to do?”
A cool draft blows into the room, followed by the scent of coffee. Picking up my head from when it has fallen onto the cushions, I glance up to see our front door is open and my future mother-in-law is standing in the doorway, holding a large coffee in her hands. By the way her mouth is hanging open, I wonder just how long she’s been standing there—
“Oh my God.” Her voice is understandably shrill. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!”
We have not bothered to hide or shift into human forms—and we all seem to be frozen in place by her unexpected appearance. She is lucky. Normally, when Holly is startled, she reaches for her sword, but instead, she clambers for her glamour. It is too little too late. There’s no use hiding it.
The wings, however, seem to be the least of Marsha’s worries as she closes in on me. Heather has always said she and her mother look very little alike, but I see a striking resemblance in the fire of their eyes.
Swallowing hard, I kick myself for not letting her in on this sooner. If there is anyone who would burn the world to get someone back, it’s a mother looking for their child.
“Where would you like me to begin?” I ask, glancing around the room. “I fear we do not have time for all the details but—”
“Uh, you could start by explaining why it looks like I just walked into a room filled with extras from a low-budget fantasy movie!” Her eyes dart around the room, and I do not know whether she is going to begin shouting or simply faint with the way her face is turning red. “Or maybe focus on the fact that no one told me my little girl is missing!”
“What is a fantasy movie?” Pepper whispers to Holly, whose face has gone pale.
“A pornography, I presume,” she whispers back, a little more than offended. Meanwhile, Rosie bites back a laugh.
I narrow my eyes in their direction. Now is not the time. Not when this small woman looks like she is going to explode.
“What are you hiding, hm?!” She jabs me in the chest.
So, I tell her.
Everything . Everything that Heather had been waiting for the right time to let her in on, guilt seeping into me with every word. But if not now, then when? We have been running in circles and are no closer to the end.
She should know what the situation is—and how dire I fear it is becoming.
We sit together, not bothering with the formality of gathering at the table or brewing a pot of tea. The coffee she brought home goes untouched as I honestly tell her everything I can. The way I fell onto her daughter’s roof, the way Heather aided me, the truth of my origins and my history on this mortal plane and outside of it. She just listens, except for an occasional ‘hmm’, her brow furrowed. That is, until I explain our failed attempt to find Heather through the portal that sent us here.
“Buffering” is what Heather would call it. The room is silent until Marsha finally nods, grabbing for her coffee that has gone cold and taking several gulps.
“So, let me get this straight, you’re royalty from another world?” Her eyebrows pinch together, and mouth in a straight unamused line.
“Yes.”
“And… and some fancy rich vampire just stole my daughter? Days before her wedding?”
“Also correct,” I reply, trying and failing to keep the defeat from both my tone and my shoulders.
“And my daughter’s response to this ridiculous situation is to set up her kidnapper with a dating profile?” Marsha is shouting now. It is not an unreasonable reaction. “ And you’re telling me her soul is bound to him with some kind of … spell?”
“That is the gist of it.” Holly groans from her spot behind me. “But as far as a rich vampire, King Magnus is not as well-to-do as some would think. When he accepted the invitation to last year’s ball, he showed up in clothes from three seasons ago with hunger in his eyes. His kingdom is in all but ruin, and he wants a rich faerie royal to ease his troubles.”
“You think he kidnapped her for money?” Rosie asks. “There must be something more to the story here. Moth is the one who’s a prince.”
“Please.” Marsha snorts. “Heather was the internet’s princess for years. I made some mistakes oversharing her personal life, but every cent she made was put into savings. She did well enough to buy this place.” She leans against the doorway, and a piece of trim splinters, leaving her stumbling.
“Indeed.” Pepper’s brow pinches. “And as lovely as it may be, the vampire king’s actions will have consequences.”
“To say the least,” I reply with honesty, flexing my claws reflexively. I am glad when Marsha does not seem afraid. “We just need to find her first.”
“But she’s safe, right?” Marsha asks, her voice rising into something more frantic. “Please tell me she’s safe.”
“Yes, we have no reason to believe the vampire king would hurt her,” Holly replies, her eyes cast to the floor for a moment. “During the brief conversation she had with Moth, she assured us as much.”
Marsha lets out a long sigh, easing herself into one of the armchairs.
“Trying to help this guy, it’s very on-brand for Heather,” Marsha says. “She’s always been too worried about hurting people’s feelings, even when she’d get attacked by trolls, she’d always say they must be having a worse day than she was.”
“Must we add trolls to the list of foes to contend with?” Holly sighs, shaking her head. “My sister-in-law has seen many battles.”
I open my mouth, debating on whether or not to explain what a troll is in terms of the internet, but Rosie looks my way and shakes her head. We simply do not have the time.
“So, you’re all on this noble quest, hopping through portals, doing God-knows-what.” Marsha exhales. She shakes her head, pulling a bright pink cellphone from her pocket. “And you don’t know where she’s being held at all?”
“For all we know, she isn’t even in the faerie realms at all,” I admit. “The fact she was able to call suggests that if she isn’t in the mortal realm, the veil is thin where she is.”
“Then I’ll handle this.” Marsha holds her phone as if it is a weapon. Her thumbs skillfully fly across her keyboard, typing and typing until—“There!”
She hands me the phone, revealing a post on Heather’s social media account.
@HoneyBeaLatte: Hey Everyone! In the past few years, I’ve been talking a lot about my life online, but I’ve been noticing this trend of people filming and photographing strangers and posting them without permission. That’s why I want to do an experiment. If you see me out in public this week, snap a candid and hashtag #TheresHoneyLatte to raise awareness on this social phenomenon. Since going off the grid, I obviously haven’t shared my home, and I have been traveling so I could be anywhere—but if I know anything about you Honey Bees, you will be too! So, good luck and I am both terrified and excited to see what I’m tagged in next week.”
I grimace. Heather would hate this, but it may work. She’s been tagged in countless unflattering photos over the years, and the lack of privacy is something she has spoken about before, so it’s not exactly left field. Still, I believe her followers will find it … odd.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Rosie says, lunging for the phone. “You have your daughter’s passwords? That’s not okay!”
“Do you think that’s the biggest problem we have to focus on right now?” Marsha says, crossing her arms, keeping the device tightly in her hand. “Yes? Okay! And no, I do not log in to spy on her. She’s had some of these accounts since she was a teenager, and I’m still one of the recovery emails—and would you stop looking at me like that?”
“This will bode results?” I ask, noting that while this may not be the “biggest problem,” it will be addressed as soon as this crisis is handled. However, we cannot just keep sitting and waiting.
“It will get people talking and looking, which is what we need.” She sighs. “If we’re lucky, some news outlets will pick it up—I just reposted from my account which will help.”
“And then you will log out—change the passcodes and be done with this,” I say firmly and, begrudgingly, Marsha agrees. In the meantime, we gather around the small screen watching the post climb in popularity in a matter of minutes.
“Your world and ours seem to have one thing in common,” Holly says, her pupils dilated as she stares transfixed by the tiny screen.
“And what is that?” Marsha asks as her fingers slide across the keys.
“The love of drama.”
“If it’s one thing I know it’s this,” Marsha says, addressing the whole room now, “she’ll be home in no time.”