“He doesn’t look like a simian hybrid, though he’s definitely a tall glass of water. For my money,” he said, and leaned in like he was whispering conspiratorially, “I would have pegged him as a troll, if we’re going for fantasy here. Have you seen those eyebrows?” He mimed clownish proportions over his own brow bone.
I was honestly surprised that Zane hadn’t asked me my age. I could taste the curiosity coming off of him, but I also understood that, by not asking, he was able to feign an illusion of normalcy. If he dug too deep, he would find out more than he cared to know. I could respect that.
“He doesn’t look it because, like all residents who are less than normal looking, he’s been given a charm to alter how humans see him.”
He cocked his head. “Witches, you mean? Witches gave him a charm?”
Unsaid, but very much heard, was how difficult he still found it to believe. We might have been walking through a paper world, with paper creatures croaking, hissing, and bleating paper sounds back at us, but somewhere in his mind, he was writing this whole thing off as a delusion or dream. The human mind was hardwired to discredit that which it did not fully comprehend.
Zane was a human with human frailties and understandings. In his reality, magick, spooks, and certainly witches simply weren’t real. They were nothing more than smoke and mirrors. And he wasn’t alone.
To some degree, nearly all humans were that way. Very few of them ever accepted our world as possible. It was because of that stubborn unbelief that we’d been forced to create this town in the first place, for our safety as much as theirs.
I could see him struggling as he shoved his fingers through his hair and gave his head a slight shake. “I’m really trying here, Zinnia,” he said softly.
“I know,” I whispered back and dug my nails harder into my wrist. Goddess above, we needed to hurry and find the boy before I was forced to shift in front of him. That would crack his mind right good if I did.
I glowered. I’d never shifted in front of anyone, not even Eerie, and I had no intentions of starting now. Picking up my pace, I trotted after Lapis’s fluffy tail.
How much longer, sweetheart?
Just up that hill, she purred sweetly in my mind.
Zane matched me stride for stride, saying nothing for a couple of seconds. Then he asked, “Are you sure he’s here?”
I nodded and scratched again, no longer caring that I was leaving claw marks on my forearm. Tonight was gonna be a doozy for sure. Zane frowned, noticing my not-so-subtle scratching. I pursed my lips. This topic was definitely off limits to him.
Smart man that he was, he said nothing about it. “I know I’m slow sometimes, Zinnia, but what you’re saying is that Blue Moon is full of monsters?”
I frowned. I’d never much cared for that word when it was used by humans. It stirred up memories of burning witches at the stakes and decrying us publicly as the Devil’s mistress.
“We’re all real, and we built this place to help keep us safe.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Safe from what? Aren’t you all the monsters in the stories?”
I shrugged. “I guess if you’re referring to stories written by humans, then sure, we’re the monsters. But we didn’t hunt humans to near extinction. We never burned you at the stake, or struck you with silver bullets. All we wanted was to live in peace and raise our families, same as anyone else, I would imagine.” I huffed.
“C’mon,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “You don’t really expect me to believe that vampires and ghouls and monsters don’t want to eat us, or whatever the heck it is that you guys do.”
I pursed my lips again in agitation. “Are we all innocent? Of course not. But I imagine we’re no different than the monsters who call themselves human. Do you not also have your cannibals, your murderers, and your boogeymen?”
Zane looked taken aback. He lifted a hand and opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, furrowed his brows, and murmured, “Well, I’ll be damned. Touché, Zinnia. Touché.”
Aggravated though I was, I found his epiphany oddly cute. “Indeed. And please, don’t call us monsters. We’re most certainly not that. We’re people, just like anyone else.”
“Not like everyone else.” He shook his head.
The irritation that had been fading just a second ago flared bright. I was only a few dozen minutes away from turning, and my mood was prickly to say the least.
“You’re rather more interesting, I would say.” He said it softly, forcing me to lean in so that I could catch every word.
And just like that, my annoyance petered out. “Oh my. Well.” My lips twitched, and I fought back a silly grin, though I wasn’t sure why. As far as compliments went, it wasn’t the grandest one, and yet it rang with a sincerity that warmed me to my toes.
“So, Glenda,” he said, looking like a child with a new shiny toy. “She’s a Bigfoot too? Because I gotta say, she seems the exact opposite of her giant husband.”
“No,” I said as we finally climbed the last hill. I could sense a prickling in the air, a tightening of power, and knew that whatever had lured Edward into Illusion was close. Very close. “No, she’s a brownie.”
At his confused look, I clarified. “Fae. Fairies, you might say. Her powers manifest in dreams. That’s why she’s the mistress of the bed-and-breakfast. Suits her fine.”
He nodded and shoved his fingers through his hair, causing it to poke up adorably. Zane opened his mouth, no doubt ready to ask more questions.
By this point, I could generally tell whether a human could accept living in a place like Blue Moon or not. They either made a mad dash for our border, or they asked a thousand and one questions like an excited kid in a candy store.
But Zane’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click, and his entire body went rigid, spine taut, neck veins standing out in bold relief, as he looked over my shoulder with fierce longing and absolute horror.
I knew before I turned what I would see.
But even so, when I turned, I trembled as well. There she stood, the woman of Zane and Edward’s hearts, wearing a gown of pearl-white that wrapped around her slender neck and draped around her ankles. Her hair hung long and loose around her trim shoulders, waving gently from an invisible breeze.
She was laughing, the sound rich and full of love, as she gazed with bright-earth rich eyes into those of her son. He was laughing and gesticulating wildly with his hands. I could hear snatches of words he said.
Talking toad.
Witches.
Love.
A quick scan of the area showed me that Malachite was nowhere to be found.
“Where is your brother, Lapis?” I said, forgetting to communicate with her silently.
Lapis, thinking I no longer required the secrecy, responded in kind. “She scampered off the moment your mate crested the hill, running like a cat out of hell.”
A strangled noise spilled off Zane’s tongue, and I felt his look of startled shock burn a hole right through the back of my head. It appeared he hadn’t completely believed yet. Too late to try smoothing things over now.
I gouged deep grooves into my bicep. I no longer had thirty minutes. I was looking at ten, maybe, but definitely no more.
“Edward,” Zane whispered with a horrified shiver.
I shook my head. “He is enthralled by the illusion of his mother. To bring him back, Zane, you’ll have to snap him out of the delusion.”
“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?” he bit out.
I looked at him and smiled gently. “With love, of course. He has to see her as the fantasy she is. That woman there is not his mother. She’s just his memories of her.”
Zane Huntington III
GHOST HUNTERS. For some reason, that show stood out in bold relief in my mind as I cautiously approached my son, holding out a hand in front of me as though he were a rattler coiled for the strike.
Elle had loved that silly show. She and Edward had made a big deal of it, watching one new episode
together every night, a shared bowl of popcorn sitting between them. They would both lean forward on the couch with rapt attention, jumping half out of their skin when a sound would emerge from somewhere off screen.
I’d laughed at them, telling them both it was fake. The noise came from some sound guy off in the shadows, banging on a rusted piece of metal. But Elle would just look at me with an annoyed glare and pursed lips, telling me to shush.
I’d understood that it was more than just a silly ghost show to them. It’d been a way for mother and son to bond. I’d almost forgotten about those memories until tonight.
Until right now.
Until I saw my son staring at the ghost of my wife with intensity and wonder. My soul trembled as I saw him reach a hand through her, trying with all his might to latch on and hold her to him forever.
Of course, Edward wouldn’t have feared the specter. This was how he would have expected his mother to look.
It was hard to swallow, hard to even breathe right. Seeing Elle when I’d crested that hill had been a punch to my gut and nearly knocked me out flat. She was so changed, and yet she was completely the same.
Pale whiteish-blue skinned where before she’d been a golden peach from years spent tramping through sun-dappled woods. She and Edward were so close that I could hear her voice, the sing-song quality of it that I’d never thought to hear again, like church bells on a Sunday morning, soothing, familiar. Tears squeezed my throat tight. She laughed, and my skin danced. She’d always had the best laugh, light but full of life and tempered by a sense that she knew a secret you never would.
Elle had always worn her hair in braids, even at our wedding. She hated the feel of hair in her eyes or on her neck. But the ghost’s loose strands waved like a gently swaying banner, long and beautifully golden brown. I swallowed hard, vision blurring as the first tears fell.
I remembered that first day in Econ class, the sultry temptress that had walked up to me, hips swaying in her delicious blue-jean cutoffs, not saying a word until she’d gotten in my bubble of space and whispered in a husky drawl, “You don’t know it yet, Spoon, but your life’s just been changed forever.”
Spoon, because even at a glance, she’d known I’d been raised with a silver one in my mouth. But she’d never seen my money. Elle had always seen only me.
“Zane.” Zinnia’s lulling accent snapped me out of my memories like a pebble from a sling. I twitched. “You must hurry.”
I shuddered, squeezing my eyes shut. This place had to be real, because no dream had ever hurt me this bad. And if it was hurting me, it was also hurting him.
“Edward,” I whispered with a voice grown hoarse, like I’d swallowed a bucket full of river rocks.
My son’s shoulders twitched. The story he’d been telling about a talking toad trailed off, but he didn’t turn. His eyes were for his mother alone.
I took a step toward him, hearing the rustle of paper grass being crushed beneath my heels.
“And, and he said... he said...” Edward’s reed-thin voice cracked. He was clinging to his vision, trying desperately to pretend that I wasn’t there. It hurt me deeply to see how much he needed her still.
It wasn’t like it was a surprise to me. I needed Elle too, and I thought there would never come a day for either of us when we wouldn’t want to share some part of our life with her, pick up a phone and tell her about our bizarre or wonderful or frustrating day.
I looked at the ghost wearing my wife’s face. She looked at me with that same crooked smile she’d always worn, as though she anticipated my doing the unexpected.
The pain in my heart squeezed, like a giant had shoved his fist through my chest and bore down with all his strength. I didn’t try to hide the tears or keep them hidden from Edward. He needed to know that I grieved just as much as he did, that he wasn’t alone in this.
“Zane.” Her voice, so clear and bell-like, wrapped around my body like an ivory ribbon. “Good to see you.”
My nostrils flared, and I reminded myself for the second time that she wasn’t real. None of this was real.
Zinnia had called this place Illusion, and it was. It was a terribly painful one. Elle took a step toward me, moving like a gentle fog over still waters, ethereally, hypnotically.
I jerked and held my hands up.
“Don’t be scared, Zane. I won’t hurt you,” Elle said, her rich blue eyes dancing with laughter just like they’d done so many times before.
“S-Stay t-t-there.” My voice quivered, but Elle did as I asked and stayed still.
Edward crept up alongside her, swaying slightly, as though trying to rest his weight upon her thigh like he’d done countless times before.
She looked down on our son’s head with tenderness. Quiet sobs ripped through my chest, watching her watching him, seeing the play of moonlight slice through her transparent form, reminding me all over again that none of this was real. But her smile, the wave of love that seemed to radiate off of her, felt so real that it was hard to remember why I was here.
“Zane.” Not Elle’s voice, but Zinnia’s. “Please, Zane. We must leave. Please, please hurry. I can’t... can’t hold the doorway open much longer.”
I didn’t turn toward her, but her faltering voice fed the inner core of my waning strength, reminding me why I’d come, why I was here.
I held my hand out to Edward. “Come with me, son. We have to leave.”
His rosebud lips tipped downward. “But I don’t want to. I-I like it here. Mommy’s here.”
My lashes flickered, and I sniffed loudly, painfully swallowing the lump trapped in my throat before I could speak.
“Mommy...” My voice cracked, and I cleared it. “Mom’s not here. She’s an illusion, Edward. She’s not real.”
As I said this, I looked not at my son, but at her, memorizing every plane, every dip, every groove of her beautiful face. I’d begun to forget her, I was ashamed to admit. The slight crook in the bridge of her nose from a break she’d gotten when she was ten, playing a backyard football pickup game. The way her front teeth had a little gap between them, and that one eye was so much lighter than the other.
But I saw them now, and I knew these memories would forever remain in my heart, never to be lost again. I had her back. Illusion or no, I had the time to do what I hadn’t known I needed to do on the day that was to be her last. I had the time to look at her, to capture her completely inside in my mind.
“I loved you with all my heart,” she whispered. “I want you and Edward to know that. When I said always, I meant it.”
I knew she wasn’t real, but I trembled and shook with tears. I nodded back at her. “I did too, Elle. It was all worth it. You were worth it. You always were.”
That crooked grin I’d loved so well blazed like fire.
“Then take our boy home, and know that I am always watching. You are where you belong now. And I am so happy you have found one another finally. It only took me two years to convince you to leave that dreadful, rain-drenched state.”
I chuckled. There was still pain, a great feeling of loss, but there was a warmth in me now that hadn’t been there before, the sense that she was well, she was happy. Illusion or no, seeing Elle looking beautiful and happy, I felt the shackles of the last two years slide off me.
A small, cold hand slid into mine. I looked down at Edward, at our child. The boy was a perfect mix of Elle and myself, her last gift to me. He buried his face in my thigh, small shoulders trembling as he cried his own silent tears of grief.
But I knew. Deep down, I knew who those tears were really for. For him and for me. We could let her go, now. We’d said our goodbyes. Finally. We could finally let her rest in peace.
I looked up at Elle. She was fading, little more than a faint flickering of colors. But I remembered, and I would never forget again.
“Don’t forget me.” Her ghostly words echoed my thoughts and seemed to tremble through the night, making me vaguely aware that I no longer heard anything but her. Ther
e were no animal noises, no creaking trees, no shifting winds.
Just her. Just Elle.
“Goodbye, my love,” I whispered.
“Bye, Mama.” Edward’s scratchy words brought a fresh batch of tears to my eyes.
“Bye, baby boy,” she whispered. Her body was no longer there, not even the light of her. She was gone.
But then I heard something that raised all the fine hairs on the back of my neck.
“Goodbye, Spoon...”
I gasped, jerking so hard that I swayed, stumbling on my heels a little bit. Could a lie know that? Could a delusion have known what she’d called me? What only she had ever called me?
“Zane.”
The feminine voice was so unexpected that I had to blink several times to rattle loose the thoughts in my head.
“Zane, I can’t hold on.” Zinnia gasped.
I twirled on my heel. Hearing that reed-thin voice so full of pain had me moving before I even thought about what I was doing. In ten steps, we were beside a very pale-looking Zinnia.
She was crouched over, hanging on to her stomach and pointing to her left.
“Go. Go now before you’re trapped here. Go,” she hissed. Sweat had broken out on her brow, and her face was twisted into a mask of excruciating agony. A white ring had formed around her mouth.
“Zinnia! Zinnia, honey, what’s the matter?” I wasn’t really aware of what it was I was saying, only that she looked ready to collapse, which she did, right into my outstretched arms, with a terrible moan.
“Leave me, Zane. Take your son and go. Go now!” The impassioned plea of her cry ended on a wail as she stiffened in my arms before grunting.
A great gale of wind began to rush from the dark, vacuous tunnel beside us. The circumference of it looked like it was starting to narrow.
I clung tight to Zinnia’s slight frame, cradling her to my chest. “What is that? Is that our exit? Is that where we go?”
But she was beyond hearing me now. Her eyes had rolled to the back of her head, and she was spasming violently in my arms. Suddenly terrified for her and desperate to get her the help she needed, I could only pray to God that I was doing the right thing.
Cookies, Curses, and Kisses Page 13