by Holley Trent
“Thank you, sweeting.” He walked to Sully, who’d called out to him.
Simone gave Dasha’s shoulder a pat. “There, there. You’ll learn the art of self-preservation soon enough. Next time, eat the sandwich in front of him and don’t feel bad about it.”
“That’s cruel.”
Simone grunted. “Maybe a little. It’s dog-eat-dog around here with food. Fairy metabolisms are too damned aggressive. They could obliterate a fully-stocked seafood buffet in fifteen minutes.”
“Must be nice.” Dasha groaned. If she so much as looked at a seafood buffet, she’d sprout an extra chin.
“Let’s get this meeting rolling again, aye?” Heath called out.
Simone gave Dasha one more bump to the hip and then joined her husband by the stepladder he sat on.
Dasha took the seat between the twins and expressed a melancholy sigh at the pitiful offerings on her paper plate.
“I think we should recap what’s going on with The Hearth and how the activities affect its full-time occupants,” Simone said.
Dasha perked up an ear as she wound cold spaghetti around her plastic fork.
“We’re hoping to get the old gas station building razed by Independence Day, and then have some preliminary improvements done to the lot before winter. The land needs to be leveled, to start, and the contractor wants to go ahead and pour the foundation slab for the new building and try to get some of the ground floor construction done before the weather turns really cold and windy for the winter. All of this is pending permit approval, however.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Siobhan said loftily from near one of the two bedrooms’ doors. She studied her nails. “I know a guy down at the permit office now.”
Heath sighed. “What’d you do to him?”
Siobhan gaped. “Nothing! I’ve just called him so damned much in the past six months that he’s sick of hearing my voice and just puts shit through so he doesn’t have to deal with me. It’s not like I have shame or anything. If people tell me no, I try again later with a more convincing argument like any reasonable person. The difference between me and most other people, though, is that I’m usually right.”
Heath gave his head a shake. “Be good.”
“I’m better than good, brother. I’m excellent, and you damn well know it.”
Snickering, Simone pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Um…we made a little headway with the lot owner on the other side. We’ve gotten in touch with him. The issue now is seeing if he’s willing to sell. He wouldn’t say one way or another when I chatted with him. He was very tightlipped in general. Seemed distracted. I had to keep repeating myself.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Siobhan said.
“Lady, you are vicious.”
Siobhan shrugged. “He’d be stupid to turn down easy money, and who really wants to own property next to a busy motel unless they’re opening a liquor store or beach gear shop? Too many of those around here already.”
“True. In other motel business, I had to book a group from a marine biologist conference for next week. I haven’t had a chance to update the occupancy information for those nights, but I’ll try to do that tonight so we don’t accidentally overbook. Pretty much every unit will be taken. They’re probably not a bad group to have here, anyway. They’ll be gone most of the time.”
“And them taking up the space keeps other people from booking,” Dasha said.
“Exactly.”
“You know, at some point, figuring out some active way to remove your curse wouldn’t hurt.”
“Eh. I’m not sure what I could do that would be contrary to how the curse says I have to behave.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but your curse says that you cannot refuse any guest who asks for lodging. I understand that. But…what if they simply can’t get here?”
Simone narrowed her eyes and leaned her head to the side. “What are you getting at?”
Dasha set her neglected dinner plate on the floor and crossed her legs. “A guest can’t make good on a reservation if they can’t access the motel.”
“You mean…if the road were closed, for example,” Ethan said.
Dasha turned her hands over and shrugged. “Maybe I wouldn’t go that far unless under true duress. Having grown up in a community like this, I’d be hesitant to cut off the main access route up and down the coast, and certainly not for two weeks, but there are other ways of making the motel inaccessible. Or undesirable. All you need is to go two weeks without a guest, right?”
“Yes,” Simone said. “But still, if anyone queries, I can’t tell them no. Unless they were booking way out in the future, the vacancy clock would never start.”
“So, you need to make folks not want to ask.”
“Yes, but how would I manage that?”
“Don’t forget, I work in advertising. I know how to make the public believe things. The first thing you need to do is make folks believe that for the time being, The Hearth isn’t a great place to stay. Don’t answer the phone. Let calls roll right to voicemail and make sure your recorded message warns them of some bad thing they’ll encounter when they’re here. You don’t have to lie—I know you can’t lie—you just have to discourage them.”
“I can’t imagine what discouraging thing I could deploy.”
Dasha tapped her chin. “Oh, say something about the place being overrun by a biker gang and that amenities would be limited due to construction activity. Wouldn’t be a lie.”
“Huh.” Simone nodded slowly. “That’s probably eliminate most of our family bookings and probably the professional ones, too. Wouldn’t do anything to discourage other bikers, though.”
Dasha wriggled her eyebrows. “Know what would?”
“What?”
“Dig up the parking lot. No one’s going to want to stay here if they can’t park on the property. There’s no alternate lot within walking distance of here.”
“Honestly, I think that’d discourage the vast majority of guests, except for the very desperate. What do we do about them?”
“Well, I know fuck-all about fairy magic, but, isn’t there some kind of spell warding this place? Is that right term?”
“Uh-huh,” Perry said. “The magic is mine and my grandmother’s. The warding isn’t a spell so much as magical intent.”
“Can you adjust the magic?”
“In what way?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Add some flimflam to make folks who come near just feel like The Hearth is a dump.”
Perry lowered his eyelids a bit and drummed his fingertips atop his thighs. After a minute, he said, “Maybe. I’ll have to think of a way to weave magical loopholes in the bubble. My father would be better at that sort of manipulation, but he’s…”
“Trapped in one of my mother’s dungeons.” Heath cleared his throat and turned to Simone. “What do you think, love?”
“I’ll try anything, you know that. We could start implementing as soon as that conference group leaves. Hopefully the rest of the guests wouldn’t have overstayed their welcomes.” She looked at Perry. “Would a couple of weeks be long enough?”
“More than enough, Princess.”
“I’ll look into finding someone to dig up the lot, then,” Siobhan said. We can park our bikes at the gas station during the disruption. No room over there at the moment for much else, anyway, with all the trash on the site.”
“Splendid,” Simone said with a dastardly grin. “I’m looking forward to being able to disappoint people for a change.”
Heath cleared his throat.
“Hush. You know what I meant. And thank you, Dasha.”
“Hey, I’m handy to have around every now and then.”
“You’re always handy to have around. I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you because you’ve fallen in with a bunch of fairy hoodlums.”
“Are you counting yourself in that collection now?”
Simone sighed. “Might as well, right? I’m probably worse than
any of them, except Heath. The only difference is that when he beats people up, he remembers the exact trigger. I never do. I just snap.”
“That keeps you from hesitating,” came a neutral voice from the door.
There was a collective flailing in the room—them all damn near falling out of their chairs at the sight of Nikki standing quietly by the pile of empty paint cans.
Dasha clutched her chest and waited for the fright gripping her body to pass. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to supernatural things popping in without notice, but at least she knew that thanks to Perry’s magical tweaks, anyone teleporting onto the premises was benign.
Ethan stood. “Mielikki…”
“Your mother is ill,” she said without preface. “With circumstances being what they are, I decided that I should inform you.”
“Ill? I need to—”
“You can’t go to her, Ethan,” Heath said. “You can’t step foot into the realm right now. You’d be apprehended the moment one of Mum’s guards caught up to you. With the current security spell, they’d know the exact moment you arrived, whether you go via one of Simone’s portals or using the tunnels in the existing mounds.”
“She will recover in time,” Nikki said. “She worries for you. I said I would carry the news. That is all I can do.”
Nikki disappeared without another word.
They all sat frozen for a long while, saying nothing.
Dasha certainly didn’t know what to say. She felt entirely out of the loop with most fairy problems, and she didn’t have a suggestion. She didn’t know enough to make one, but she did know that had someone told her that her mother was ill, she’d be on the first plane to visit. Ethan had to be hurting, and she didn’t want him to hurt. Nobody deserved that.
“I have to go,” Ethan said.
“You can’t,” Heath said. “I forbid you from trying, and don’t believe my wife will abet your transportation.”
“Nope,” Simone said. “I’m sorry, E. Nikki said she’ll recover. Take some solace in that.”
“But I can’t just—”
“I’ll go,” came a weak voice, and few seconds passed before Dasha realize the voice had been hers. Identifying it was made easier by the fact that every fairy in the room turned to look at her. She cringed and rubbed her eyes.
Shit. What am I volunteering for?
All she’d known was that someone should go and tell that lady her son cared, and Dasha could. Dasha didn’t have any magic. She wasn’t a fairy.
She let out a ragged breath and dropped her hands from her face. “I’ll go. Just tell me what to say. I can go in and come out quickly. I’m not detectable by the magic, right?”
Simone shook her head. “You’re not, but—”
“No. I’ll go. Just tell me what to do and what to look out for. I mean, I might have to rethink this errand if I have to strap on a sword or something, but I don’t see why I can’t run in to pass on a quick message. Simone, do you think you can cast the portal accurately?”
“Um.” Raking a hand through her ponytail, she glanced at Heath, who pushed up an eyebrow. “I’ve never visited Ethan’s parents. I don’t know where they are, and I’m not very good at positioning portal ends in places I’ve never been. My mother says there’s a trick to setting them down. I’ll try to work out the logistics…if that’s what we’re agreeing to.”
Heath made a dismissive wave of his hand. He obviously wasn’t going to argue.
Ethan edged his way through the chairs and bodies between him and Dasha and knelt in front of her, fear and concern etched into his handsome features, and it damned near broke her heart. “You’d do that?” he asked.
For you? Sure.
She didn’t know why she wanted to, only that she had to. Maybe she liked the idea of making him happy in a way only she could.
“Just…tell me what to do,” she said. “I want to help.”
He squeezed her hands and dragged his calloused thumbs across the backs of them. Then he kissed one and laid the side of his head on her lap.
Reflexively, she patted his head, but that felt silly, so she laid her hand atop it and smoothed the hair back from his temples. “You’ve…got to tell me what to tell them. I imagine they’ll be suspicious of a stranger.”
“Tell them you are my mate. They’ll understand.”
Dasha didn’t even understand, but she’d promised herself that she’d try to.
And maybe the small part of her that craved connecting with someone again—with him—made her just want to, too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
An hour later, Dasha tucked Ethan’s note for his parents into the back pocket of her shorts and waited for Simone to cast a portal for her.
Standing in the office’s back room, Simone gripped Ethan’s forearm and, using her free hand, wagged a scolding finger at Dasha. “Don’t do anything stupid, Dash.”
“That wasn’t on my to-do list, Mone.” Dasha rolled her eyes. “How long is the tunnel going to be, anyway?”
Simone made a waffling gesture. “Hopefully, just a fifteen-minute walk. I’m going to keep it open for an hour. That’s all the energy I can muster up, so synchronize your watch. Your phone clock isn’t going to work right once you get inside.”
“I don’t have a watch. I haven’t worn a watch in five years.”
“Here.” Ethan pulled his arm away from Simone and undid his watch’s leather strap. He tried to circle it around Dasha’s wrist, but the band was way too big.
As they didn’t have time to find some tool to make a new hole, Dasha gripped the watch in both hands and said, in what she hoped was a reassuring tone, “I’ll just hold on. Okay? I’ll try not to lose it.”
“I’m not worried about the watch, sweeting. That’s replaceable. You aren’t.”
Oh.
Heat crept up Dasha’s cheeks, and her throat suddenly went very tight. She might have known how better to react if the line had come from some corny asshole. Of all the things Ethan was, corny wasn’t one of them.
She fidgeted the ends of her scarf and stared at the watch face. No numbers. Just tick marks. Plain straps of good leather. Nothing ostentatious. Just a tool, not a thing to collect. She knew too many men who behaved as if having high-end everything made them a better class of person, when in truth, the stuff was just one more reason for people to obsess—to misbehave. Never again did she want to be some man’s trinket.
Ethan tucked the ends of her scarf beneath the edges, probably thinking he was doing her the favor by getting them off her neck. “Hmm?”
“Um.” She glanced up from the watch at his searching expression.
He doesn’t look at me like I’m a trinket.
She managed to put on a smile and straighten her spine—to look more confident than she felt at the moment. “I’ll be fine,” she said almost too quietly to hear.
“See that you are.”
Dasha snorted quietly. “Oh, okay, bossy.”
Grumbling, Simone gripped Ethan’s forearm again and pressed a hand to the wall and closed her eyes. “If I’m doing this the way my mother explained,” she said, “I’m using Ethan’s geographical memory to position the portal end. What should she be seeing when she gets there?”
“A stone cottage,” he said. “In the woods.”
“Got it, Dasha? If you see anything else, don’t exit the portal.”
“Okay,” Dasha said. “I’ll run back.”
Simone opened one eye, and fixed it on Dasha. “Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, chick.”
“Here we go, then.”
Dasha took several deep breaths and tried to tell herself she wasn’t lying. She was freaked. She wasn’t the solo adventuring type. The only solo adventures she endeavored to complete were shopping in person for electronics on Black Friday and tottering home from the local bar in stilettos.
“Here.” Ethan opened her palm and pressed the butt of a gun into it. “Semi-automatic. Just switch off the saf
ety, aim, and then shoot. Regular bullets won’t bother many fairies, but the ones in there will.”
“Um. I can’t—”
“You can.” Simone opened the portal and pointed. “Shoot first and ask questions later if you feel threatened. Just put the gun into your purse and keep your hand on the butt if you have to.”
“But I’ve never—”
“You’ve got fifty-nine minutes, Dasha. Look at the watch, and go.”
“Oh!” Dasha got moving, albeit slowly. Inside the tunnel, she walked backwards and watched Ethan pull a chair over to the end, and Simone waving her away.
“If you can run, run,” Simone shouted. “Hurry up. I don’t want you in that thing anywhere near the one-hour mark.”
Dasha sure as shit didn’t want to be caught in a collapse, so she turned and ran. Jogged, really. Running was for people who had good knees and small tits, and she had neither of those things.
Several times, she had to slow to a fast walk to catch her breath, but in her opinion, she made good time to the tunnel’s end—about twelve minutes. She could see faint sunlight and mist as she approached the exit.
Pausing about ten feet from the end, she straightened her purse strap onto her shoulder and checked to see that she hadn’t lost Ethan’s gun.
The weapon was still there—muzzle-down and ready for her to grip. So she did, just to feel the weight in her hand. She’d never held a gun before, much less fired one. Given her poor hand-eye coordination, she didn’t think she’d be able to hit even a stationary target, but she had to admit that the gun being in her bag made her feel somewhat more secure.
She got herself moving again only to stop. “What did they tell me I’d see?”
She closed her eyes and tried to drum up the memory. “If I’ve forgotten that information during a one-mile run, I need to look into adding a few new supplements to the handful of pills I swallow every day.”
She drummed her fingertips against her thighs, and groaned at the distant memory.
“Fuck. Trees? No, forest. He said a forest and a stone cottage. Okay.”
She lifted her lids and forced herself to start walking again. She didn’t have time for hesitation. If that tunnel collapsed, she’d be stuck in the fairy realm with no easy way to communicate with Simone. Worse, if the tunnel collapsed while she was inside, she would cease to be. She liked being, and she wanted to be for several more decades at the very least.