by Shona Husk
And Dylis had been there his whole life, protecting him from Greys and telling him about his real father. The scheming she was part of probably ran deeper than he could ever know or want to understand and she wouldn’t sell him out to Shea. Dylis was part of his family.
“You really believe that?”
“With all my heart.”
“I feel like I’ve lost everything again.”
“You’ve gained. Your gran would’ve had to fight to keep your mother, and then she’d have battled again to keep you. She would have been an amazing woman. You’re lucky to have known her.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Come with me.” He led her into the living room. On the shelf was a plaster child’s handprint. He’d seen it and touched it out of curiosity.
As he picked it up Lydia looked at him as if he was a little crazy. “I made that for Mother’s Day when I was in kindergarten.”
“I know.” He nodded. “And she loved it. She loved you. When I pick this up that is the only impression I get. This boundless love. She’d have done anything for you. She wanted to do better than she had with Helen—I got a sense of failure and loss off the picture of the toddler.” He pointed to the wall of photos.
“Maybe you know her better than me.” Her face crumpled like she was going to cry.
“No. I get fragments of her life. You have the whole story in the diaries. Maybe some of it you weren’t supposed to read, but if you read on I’m sure you will see just how much she loved you.” He placed the handprint down. “It’s always a shock to find out not everything is as it seems.” And Lydia had found out more than the average person today.
“You’re not just talking about Gran.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry you’ve got mixed up in my stuff.”
She gave him a halfhearted smile. “It’s what happens when you get to know someone.” She paused and met his gaze. “Please don’t tell anyone about Helen.”
“Does Helen know the truth?”
“No.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never spoken to her.”
Helen probably deserved to know about her parentage, but then what would it change? It wouldn’t bring Helen back into Lydia’s life and Lydia didn’t seem to want to know her. Whereas he wanted to at least meet his fairy father, or he had until this morning.
She covered his hands with hers. “Thank you for listening and sharing what you know. I knew you’d understand. But I still don’t know what to do with the diaries.”
“If there are no names, you don’t have to decide yet. They have no scandal value, only historical. Have you read the early ones?”
She shook her head. “I should.”
“It would be nice to know what happened. Callaway was once a respected name.”
“You don’t know? I thought you would have been able to see.”
“It doesn’t work that way. I get impressions, not the detailed history.”
“I know there was a gambling debt, and I know Gran’s husband died in World War Two. I don’t know why she opened Callaway House as mistress hotel. I’m sure her husband must have rolled in his grave.”
Caspian glanced at the fancy ceiling and the old-fashioned light fitting that had been converted to electricity. “Something went wrong. And I’m sure it wasn’t an easy choice.”
Lydia followed his gaze. “You don’t see what I do. I grew up here and took it all for granted. I thought all houses were like this, full of art and chandeliers.”
He laughed before he could help himself. “My brother and I shared a room. We had linoleum on the kitchen floor and green kitchen counters. Our house would’ve fit in here three times.”
She raised one eyebrow. “You weren’t that poor.”
“I never thought we were. Everyone I knew lived the same way. When I was in high school we moved to a bigger house. My parents still live there.”
“You see them often?”
“Not as often as I should.” He wanted to see them in case all the fairy stuff went pear-shaped, but on the other hand he didn’t want to bring Shea to their door. That would be a shock his mother wouldn’t forgive him for.
His mother had a fear of all things fairy so he’d stopped mentioning anything he saw after she’d been horrified by his gift. For a while he’d tried to suppress and ignore it. But he couldn’t. It had been easier to learn how to manage it and mold it than pretend it didn’t exist. He was sure his mom knew that he used it daily in his business but she never said anything. She’d been there during the divorce. His dad had put his hand on Caspian’s shoulder and told him, Son, bad things happen to good people. Don’t be scared to try again.
He’d never managed to follow that piece of advice. And until now he hadn’t wanted to. But Lydia was tempting him to walk the paths he’d sworn never to take again. In her arms he believed he could love again. He brushed a strand of hair off her face, unable to resist touching her and yet knowing that if he didn’t step away soon he’d get nothing done. And as much as he enjoyed being here, it would be simpler if he wasn’t working here.
“I should get to work. A bit left in the stable, and then I’ll have a look in the attic.”
“Then that’s it except for the cabins.” She sounded disappointed, as if she wasn’t sure she’d ever see him again once he’d finished the job.
They looked at each other for several heartbeats. Then he stepped forward and kissed her. She didn’t have any idea what this meant to him. She knew what he was and wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t about to give her up. Her lips moved against his, tempting and teasing, but if he stopped to play now he wouldn’t get any work done. Slowly he broke the kiss and they drew apart.
Her tongue traced her lower lip as if considering the same thing he was thinking. Forget working and dinner—there were other things to do. And he wondered how long it had been since she’d had a boyfriend. There were so many things he didn’t know about her.
She gave a little sigh as if reluctant to do the right thing. “Okay then, I’ll let you get on with it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Find out how the mistress hotel started.”
He picked up his satchel ready to go out the back. “Will you tell me over dinner?”
“Maybe.” She grinned, then walked away. He watched her hips sway then followed her down the corridor wishing he didn’t have to spend a few hours working before relaxing upstairs with Lydia.
* * *
Fortunately much of the stable was filled with junk, the same as most people’s basements. Just because it was old didn’t make it valuable junk—a lot of people came to his shop thinking old equaled valuable. They often thought he was trying to rip them off.
He locked the stable door, knowing if Lydia sold she was going to have to make the decision about whether to keep or discard. Just because it wasn’t valuable didn’t mean there wasn’t sentimental value. There were old dolls in a box that had probably belonged to Lydia’s mother. While he’d found a brush with a tarnished mirrored back, it wasn’t the Window. It would have been much easier to find if he could sense it… but then all fairies would have been able to and it would have fallen into a Grey’s hands long ago.
Lydia stuck her head out the back door. “Pizza is here.”
“Okay, I’m done.” He went in and washed his hands.
They ate at the table that had seen many morning afters and a few rendezvous. He tried not to think about what people had done on the table as he ate. Across from him Lydia concentrated on her food.
“I opened the second trunk. You might want to log the crystal, plates, and silver candle holders.”
He glanced at the trunk, now closed, hopefully. “What else was in there?”
“A wedding dress.”
“She packed away her dress and wedding presents?”
Lydia nodded and picked up a photo she’d hidden on the seat. It was beautifully framed. The couple smiled surrounded by the bridal par
ty. She handed it to him and he braced for the flood of memories. The stronger the emotion the greater the residual impression. The first ones were of great sadness and tears as everything was packed away, anger lingered underneath, but beneath that there was great joy.
He put the picture on the table so they could both see Nanette Callaway. “Have you solved the mystery?”
She nodded and swallowed what she’d been eating. “While most people know that Callaway House was making liquor during Prohibition, that isn’t the full story. The reason Mr. Callaway Senior got involved in liquor was because he liked to gamble. The debt was huge apparently and his son inherited it with the house. Apparently old Charleston blood doesn’t forgive and forget some debts. Which was fine while he was alive and earning an officer’s salary.”
“But once he died—”
“Gran either had to give up the house to pay the debt or find a way to keep going.”
Caspian frowned. “Why didn’t she sell?” Surely that was the easy option.
“The house was all she had left of her husband and child. Their little daughter died while he was away fighting. She couldn’t give up the only home she’d known, the place that still held their memories.”
“The outbuildings had already been sold?” Caspian asked.
Lydia nodded. “Callaway Senior sold them along with some of the land. This used to be a proper farm. What my grandfather inherited was a reduced property and a big debt. Gran was working in a factory to help with the war, barely getting by and someone—she doesn’t say who, just calls him the doctor—asked if she’d be willing to let his friend stay. Of course she knew what he as asking, but she saw the opportunity. Soon there were half a dozen women here. The men coming out to spend their weekends partying and playing.”
“And no one said anything?”
Lydia shook her head. “Rich men had mistresses and stashing them out here away from town made it easy. Gran took board and lodging money and also put on the parties. That was when the poets, painters, and musicians got involved.”
“Ah, and then its reputation really took off.”
She grinned. “And then some. Apparently they had to turn people away because the house was too full.”
“Did she pay the debt off?”
“Yep. By then she had an established business as a mistress hotel and a bit of an exclusive club.”
“Until mistresses went out of favor.”
“Actually, that didn’t seem to dampen things. By then it was the sixties and the parties just kept rolling. I think some of the women who lived here were making money upstairs… but Gran never says that directly.” She raised an eyebrow and looked at him for confirmation.
“Yeah. There was a lot of action upstairs but without spending a lot of time digging I wouldn’t be able to separate it out—I don’t want to do that. That’s people’s private lives.” He grimaced. What he could do wasn’t normal and he didn’t want to be peering into the raunchy bits of history. “But I’d say your suspicions are correct.”
She gave a single nod as if happy to be unraveling her family history. He knew his, both fairy and human, but couldn’t be open about it. Or at least hadn’t been able to be open until Lydia. He picked up another slice of pizza and waited for her to continue. It was so rare he actually got the full story instead of just the highlights as impressed upon the furniture or as seen by mirrors.
He stopped before taking a bite and realized what had been missing from his visit tonight. The house had been silent. “Where’s your ghost gone?”
“What do you mean? I thought you said it wasn’t a ghost?” But now she was sitting up listening, the past forgotten.
“It’s not. But I haven’t heard it all night… in fact, I haven’t sensed a single thing.”
“That’s good, right?”
“No. Your ghost has been here for years. Why leave now?”
They both went silent. All Caspian could hear was the beating of his heart. The Grey that had been in the house was gone. Had Dylis scared it away? Had Shea scared it away or had it found what it was looking for?
“Where’s your fairy?”
“She’s working, trying to help find the mirror.”
“Ah.” She glanced around the kitchen. “I’m now creeped out because there isn’t a ghost in the house.”
He flicked her a smile. “It’s odd, that’s all.” And he didn’t like odd as there was usually a reason and it wasn’t usually a good reason when it came to fairies. “No reason not to stay.” Staying here was more enticing than going back to his house where Shea could be lurking. Although at least his house was protected by the silver tea set. Maybe it would be smarter to go back to his place. He met Lydia’s gaze and held it. “Unless you’d rather go back into town, you could always come to my place?”
There was a pause and for a moment he thought he’d crossed a line he shouldn’t have. Callaway House was like neutral ground. She didn’t live here, so the only impressions he got of her were recent or so old it didn’t matter. Knowing his lover had had previous lovers was very different from getting glimpses of them. It happened all through his twenties until he married. It made dating difficult—and dating was hard enough. Or maybe he’d just never been good at it. Fairies didn’t seem to date, so maybe there was a bad dating gene he’d inherited.
“As tempting as that is, I’m not going to be chased out of the house because there are no fairies tonight. Last night there were too many, tonight not enough. I feel like Goldilocks.”
He laughed.
“Have you always seen fairies?” Lydia asked.
“Yes. I thought it was normal until I was about five. After that I tried to pretend I couldn’t see them. Sometimes not very well.”
“And the psychometry?”
He frowned. “I was still a child, maybe ten. At first it was small things. But I went through a really bad phase of being sucked into visions and not knowing how to get out. My mother freaked, my father thought I was daydreaming and didn’t get it. My brother used to tease me mercilessly. Dylis helped me.”
“So your mom knew it was because of the fairy blood?”
“Yeah. That was when she told me the truth about my father, but Dylis had told me years before.”
“Do you want to meet him?”
Not now with the deal with Shea hanging over his head. “There was a time when I did. When I wanted to know why he’d left me and when I thought I’d be better off in Annwyn, but not anymore. I have no desire to go to Court and be surrounded by fairies.”
She sipped her soft drink and he could see the questions forming in her mind. She wanted to know more about Court. Humans might have forgotten about Annwyn, but when something reopened that door old longing rose up. That was why it was so easy for fairies to trick the unaware into going to Annwyn and giving up their souls, or firstborns while still in the womb.
“So why are you human, not fairy?”
“Dylis didn’t explain?”
She shook her head. “No, she made me memorize a bunch of rules.”
That sounded like Dylis. “Those rules could save your life. Did she tell you about iron and water?”
“Yes.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out an iron bolt.
Caspian put his hand out and she placed it in his palm. There was a jolt of pain as he fisted his hand around it for a few heartbeats. He could feel his skin heating. Then he handed it back and showed her the red burn marks. They would heal overnight, but it would prove his point.
“I am fairy. Iron burns me. But I don’t have a fear of running water like they do.”
“You said you were human.”
“No, I said I was mortal. There is a difference. I was born here; I am a changeling. If my father had taken Mom back to Annwyn to give birth, I’d have been a soulless fairy. Fairies need humans to breed.”
“You make it sound so… cold.”
“Fairies aren’t like you. They have different morals, different ethics, their world is
based on power and deals. Their word is their bond. The King’s word is law. They deal in death. The Victorians did every human a great disservice in reducing fairies to humanoid butterflies.”
“You speak as though you are one of them.”
“I am, and yet I’m not. I have to stop myself some days from being too much like them. The curiosity is always there. I make deals for a living. I’m not excusing it, but you need to realize I’m not simply human with a bonus touch of magic. I am a mortal fairy.”
She leaned back in the chair and looked at him. He was pretty sure he’d just put the iron nail in the coffin of their relationship. He probably shouldn’t have pushed so hard, but it was nice to be honest for a change and he didn’t want to trick her into thinking he was human when he wasn’t—no matter how hard he pretended.
“So what will your children be?”
That wasn’t the question he’d been expecting. But he’d asked Dylis once, not that Natalie had ever suggested they have kids. “Human—with a touch of magic. They won’t be able to see fairies, and they won’t be bound by Annwyn’s laws.”
Lydia nodded as if happy with the answer. She was weighing him as a prospective partner. Already. The idea was far too tempting. He didn’t want to think that far ahead and risk it all falling apart. He desperately wanted to lock his heart away again but it was already too late. He’d offered it to her when he’d started telling her the truth. The kitchen became warm. He could feel the pull between them, thickening with each breath. One of them had to move to break the spell. He needed to. He needed to step away before he fell in too deep.
“Just the attic to go.” He hoped there wasn’t much in there, as he was done for the day. Checking all the mirrors in the morning had left him tired, and while he hoped Shea wouldn’t bring mirrors every morning, he knew it was a wasted wish.
She nodded, but he saw the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. Had she expected him to sit and answer every question tonight? He couldn’t be what she expected him to be because he wasn’t and never would be, but at the same time he didn’t want to spend all their time together talking about fairies.