16.
Moth
I pace and pace and pace until I fear a hole will bore into the floor. My mother-in-law gazes at me with an expression that hinges on anger and sympathy.
It is just the two of us now—three counting my trusted hound who appears to have taken the shape of a throw pillow, fitting as this is a moment for rest.
Our party has regrouped, traded information, and now for the moment rest our heads in the worlds we have chosen. Rosie and Clara have gone home for the night—it is up to them whether they want to join us for this madness in the morning. It is no secret the exhaustion of our failing quest is taking a toll, and I am glad to have a moment free from the memories the castle holds.
Holly has returned to relieve Pepper of their position and give them much needed time with their family. An ordeal like this does make a person—or faerie—want to hold their loved ones close, and Ruby and Pepper have so many to tuck into bed and tell bedtime stories to. Mother and Holly will have things handled in the castle in the meantime. For now, a portal remains open in the living room, and I wish Heather would be the next to step through it.
For now, our task is to rest before morning, and I am glad my friends can return to their quiet lives. But it seems like the way Marsha’s eyes are fixed on mine, I still have some chaos I must contend with.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” she finally asks, falling onto the old loveseat next to Sprout, who wastes no time snuggling his head onto her lap.
“She wanted to,” I admit. “It has not been an easy task to figure out the timing.”
“Did she think I wouldn’t accept her? I bought her a rainbow flag when she was twelve for God’s sake…”
“And shared it online for everyone to see.” I can understand my flame’s hesitation to share any personal details of her life and identity with her mother. The things we have experienced are fantastical in the mortal realm, and their relationship, though healing, still has moments of strain. Marsha has done well to accept the changes Heather has made since coming to these woods, but it has not come without effort.
It is hard to share secrets when you are still closing wounds from the past.
“That’s—okay, yes. That was pretty bad— really bad.” She frowns, sinking into herself. “There are so many things I wish I could do over.”
“What I’m trying to say is… all of this, I accept it,” Marsha says with not a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “Just tell me what your crest and colors are, and I’ll be the first to cross-stitch them onto a set of linens for your eyes only. I just want her back.”
“As do I.” I nod. “I can answer any of your basic questions but, as you may have gathered, I do not recall much of my life before coming to the mortal realm.”
“Really?” she says, leaning back as the pieces click into place. “I figured you dodging all my questions meant you were in the witness protection program or just didn’t like me…”
“The truth is unfortunately more complicated.”
“Mothman, huh?” Marsha appraises me.
“Your daughter gave me my name— Moth —unrelated to that title.”
“I just thought it was short for something…”
“What could it possibly be short for?” I ask, momentarily ceasing my pacing to pivot toward her.
“Timothy?”
“Ti-moth-y?” Unexpected laughter quakes from my chest. Sleep will not come easily tonight, but it is needed. Especially if I am to continue to converse with my mother-in-law—as entertaining as this exchange might be.
“Okay, okay.” She extends her hands. “Don’t be mad, but I may have asked my followers what a full name for Moth might be—just a quick insta story, and I deleted it once I got enough replies. Nameberry barely gave me any results and Heather said it wasn’t a nickname. I don’t know, I just know so little about you…”
“And your followers suggested … Ti-moth-y?” I shake my head but can’t help but laugh at the strangeness of, well, this whole thing. I suppose there is something natural about having a curiosity for someone your daughter is about to marry.
She shakes her head. “Well, whatever the case, I may have not known what my daughter was marrying into, but I like your mom. Plume is nice—wait, should I address her more formally?”
“I think first names will suffice—we will all be family soon.”
If we can get Heather back.
“Well mother-in-laws don’t always get along, historically-speaking,” she begins. I raise an eyebrow; I was unaware of that. “And I think we are going to make an excellent team.”
Why does that idea cause terror to swell in my veins?
“And she’s single, right? You know, I have a brother. Very quirky, tall, he’s coming to the wedding and I’m sure—”
“I have met Heather’s uncle, yes,” I cut her off before she can continue. When we met at the festival of my likeness last year, he seemed upstanding, and well-adored by Heather…
“You were in the other realm when he arrived for the wedding. Clara set him up with a bunch of projects around their farm to keep him busy. He’s a good guy, a little quiet.” She fidgets with her phone. “I’ve always wanted him to find someone kind he can depend on—”
“If it is all the same to you, I do not have the energy to play matchmaker for my mother this evening.” The mention of matchmaking sets my flesh on edge remembering the fool’s errand my flame has taken upon herself.
“Right, I’ll take care of everything.” Marsha raises her cellphone with such speed it is dizzying.
“Marsha, please .” I pinch my brow, not wishing to engage in this conversation anymore.
“What? I need a distraction! It’s not every day your daughter is taken by a… did you all say he’s a vampire? ”
“He is.” I nod. “Holly has advised that we regroup—relax even. That seems unfathomable.”
“You’re telling me. You don’t even get Bravo out here and, no offense, the Wi-Fi is horrendous.” She sighs, looking at our ancient television set. “I’ve seen old TVs like this before. Honey always said she wanted one, but I figured she’d gut it and put something with an Apple TV inside.”
“No offense taken.”
I think Heather purposely downgraded with the knowledge that her mother would soon be coming to town.
“And, I have heard of the cocktail but do not understand what relevance or function it would have in this context.”
“Huh?” She blinks.
“An apple—tini…” I repeat. “Is that not what you said?”
To my surprise, Marsha doubles over laughing. What is humorous about “gutting” a television to put an alcoholic beverage inside?
“I don’t think a breakdown of streaming services is going to help us this evening, especially when there’s none here to use as examples.” She shakes her head. “But God, you’re just the cutest thing, aren’t you? And we’re lucky: even with this Wi-Fi situation, I was able to make that post.” She sighs. “Took forever to go through, but it’s already getting a little bit of traction.”
“And you truly think it will work?” I ask, ignoring the strange feeling that I have been complimented and insulted all at the same time.
She says nothing, dropping the bravado she had when she announced her plan to the group.
“I don’t know, Moth. But I can’t just sit around and do nothing.” It is not the certainty I had hoped for. “You have your world, and this is mine. All I can do is what I know and hope Heather doesn’t hate me for it.”
“She will not.” I nod. “If anything, she may commend the craftiness of your plan. I do. Though, the fact you gained access to her accounts is…”
“Not great—I know, I know!” She shows me her device, pulling up screens I cannot decipher the meaning of. “As soon as this is done, I’ll scrub this thing clean, but on the off chance someone sends a DM with information that could help… I promise I haven’t been poking around here randomly.”
“I will trust you on that.” I nod. “It is good to have so many people who care for Heather and are willing to offer their help.” While I sit and do nothing.
“You realize all these people love you too, don’t you?” The words strike me like a sword to the chest. “They’re not just doing this to help Heather—they’re here for you too.”
I pause.
Love. Of course. It’s something they have all expressed—though, sometimes, with teasing—but I had not stopped to realize that my friends are not worried about what my claws will do; they care for my well-being.
“It is a strange thing,” I manage to say, realizing Marsha is staring intently as if waiting for a response. “Over the last few days, I have had to contend with the idea of leaning on Heather or these new friends. There is a feeling of weakness in it, a feeling that because I cannot do it all myself, I am not enough.”
“You’ve been alone for a long time.” She nods. “We’re both relearning how to connect, huh? As you pointed out earlier, I haven’t always been the best mom to her.” She brings the conversation back to her, something that would surely annoy Heather, but I am thankful for. “I’ve been selfish. I’m sure you’ve heard all about the ways I told Heather’s stories—every little embarrassing detail of her childhood is on my blog. I was so clouded by building my brand, my community, that I didn’t realize the impact it would have on her as an adult. I always wanted her to follow in my footsteps, but I’m glad to see what she’s built out here with you. Her new art pieces have been stunning. I don’t think she would have gotten there without logging off the way she did.”
“She is a talent.” I should like to get some of the images she’s made framed rather than be forced to enjoy them on such a small digital screen.
“She sure is.” Marsha smiles wistfully. “It was always just us in our little bubble—until she got old enough to start reading the comments. I suppose ‘don’t feed the trolls’ probably has another meaning in your realm, huh?”
“I suppose it must.” I sink into one of the kitchen chairs, realizing I cannot adequately have this conversation while pacing.
“It must be hard not to remember everything,” she says, a sadness on her face. “So many gaps to try to fill in…”
“It feels as if I am supposed to recover them to move on.” I shake my head. “But, memories I can make more of—as long as they have my flame in them, I will be content.”
“ Your flame. ” She giggles. “Look, you’re going through a rebrand. We’ve all been there. You don’t need to remember who you were to become the person you want to be.”
Weight eases from my chest. I now understand why Heather calls this woman a few times a week to chat despite their complicated relationship. Unwillingly, I am finding it easy to be candid with her.
“I’m glad you two found each other. Even if it feels like she’s farther away than ever…”
“The faerie realm is—”
“No, before this.” She sighs. “I know it’s my fault for breaking her trust. Some days it just feels like it’s going to take my whole life to earn it back.”
“But still, you are here.” I nod, unsure of what else to say to her in this moment. Heather has spoken at length about what damage growing up in the spotlight has done. It is not as if it was something she was born into—everything her mother shared online was a choice. Marsha has changed a lot in a very short time. But seeing how quickly she was able to hack into her daughter’s accounts to post this “test” was eerie.
“You mentioned the post has gotten … more traction?” I ask, not meaning to change the subject. She hesitates but passes me the phone. A feed of blurry photos tagged with Heather’s alias is laid out before me. I cringe. Heather is right to be paranoid; there are photos of us in the mix. Subconsciously, I feel myself shrinking at the sight of the two us of at the festival of my likeness in Point Pleasant. I’m fully transformed and Heather, like always, is stunning.
“Those wings are actually hers, huh?” Marsha asks, blinking rapidly.
“Beautiful, are they not?”
She swallows hard. “And that’s—”
“Me. Yes.” I frown as her jaw drops.
She finally lands on, “I didn’t think you could get taller…” before choking out a strange laugh. “The rest of the results are nothing worth mentioning. A few more interesting photos of the pair of you spotted in public, but that’s not exactly going to help us, is it?”
Except as a reminder to not get lost in myself again. The last thing we need is another monster hunter showing up at our door. I stand, unable to sit still for a moment longer. I itch to spread my wings and claws but cannot risk being seen.
The vampire is enough to contend with at the moment. But it is a strange comfort to see the power of the internet. If Magnus is truly keeping her somewhere in this realm, we might have a real chance at finding her with this method, as off-putting as I find it.
“You’re just going to keep pacing all night, aren’t you?” Marsha asks, and I did not realize I had begun again.
“It is likely,” I answer honestly.
Sprout picks up his head, letting out an annoyed huff.
“Am I disturbing you?” I ask, dipping down to pat the fur of his head. The large hound picks himself up and walks to the bedroom, claiming the center of the bed with a flop.
At least one of us will be getting some sleep tonight.
“Come on,” Marsha says, patting the empty spot on the couch. “Heather has got to have a Gilmore Girls DVD or something around here…”