“Exactly what I said,” I shrugged. “I need to open a portal up. I need to help Magda, and I need to find Laslow. He’s on the other side of that curtain, too.”
I glanced over at Grams nervously, trying to gauge her reaction to my statement. It wasn’t like we didn’t know Laslow had to be on the other side but, even with all of our talk of portals, that had remained unspoken. Grams hadn’t seemed to want to think about it, and I think the rest of us didn’t want to bring it up and stress her out.
But maybe she needed to get a little bit stressed if it meant that I got to the other side of that darn portal.
Grams stared at me, open-mouthed, for just a moment, almost like she was shocked I’d dared to even bring up his name before she shook her head.
“Nope,” she said sternly, taking on the tone I’d grown all too used to when I was a kid. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I demanded. “If I’m not in the middle of the street and no one’s around to see me disappear, what’s the harm in crossing over?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“And you would know that because you’ve been to the world of the fae so many times?” I replied, raising a brow. “You don’t even know what’s out there, Grams. I’m not asking you to go with me.”
“I am aware of that,” she spat, going from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. “But I’m not thinking about me, Shannon. Maybe that’s so hard for you to grasp because you spend all of your time thinking about yourself, but there are people in this world who put others first. I’m not afraid to go to the world of the fae. I’m afraid for you to go to the world of the fae.”
Admittedly, her words stung. In fact, I felt about a hundred times more hurt than I did angry at that moment, but I refused to show it. The fact that Grams had the gall to even suggest I had selfish reasons for wanting to cross over to the other side was…
Well, it may not have been a complete lie. And I think that was why I matched my grandmother’s anger and even outdid it.
Because I hated to think of my motivations as selfish and yet, I knew they were justified.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” I demanded, standing up to get as much ground as I possibly could. “That you’re doing things for me. Is that what you and Mom would whisper to yourself every night after I went up to bed, just to try and assuage some of your guilt? Did you lie to yourselves and say you were doing it for me?”
“Shannon, that is not—”
“What? Fair?” I demanded, whirling on Mom before she could even get the words out. “You’re right. It’s not fair. At all. And I know that. But life isn’t always fair. If it was, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be back in Boston, sitting at my desk as I tried to figure out how to put another rapist behind bars. But I’m not there right now.”
“Come on, settle down,” Marcella intervened. “You and I both know that’s the last thing you actually want to be doing, babe.”
“Maybe so,” I shrugged. “So maybe fair would be growing up knowing I was from a magical family, and that I’d one day get powers. Or fair would be opening a portal so the love of your life doesn’t have to spend the rest of his days in prison.”
I stared down at Grams, hoping underneath the anger. I wanted my words to get through to her, no matter how venomous they seemed. At times, I felt as if Mom and Grams couldn’t see past their own fears. Maybe it was a gift I had simply because I wasn’t raised in a world with the plethora of rules the magical one possessed. Or maybe it was a curse to have as much determination as I did.
All I knew was that since the moment Hunter had told me that psychic visions were a fae power and not a witchy one, I had been wondering what the fae were like.
Not the demonic ones, of course.
But the normal ones. The ones who could come over and find a woman like my grandmother, and fall in love with her.
“You are too stubborn for your own good,” Grams snapped, rising to her own feet to glare at me from icy eyes.
“I get it from you,” I pointed out. “And I want to open this portal, no matter what. I want to help Magda, and maybe even Laslow. Hell, maybe I’ll be able to help an entire world full of people, just like the old elf said.”
For a brief moment, I thought my words had made landfall. An undecipherable expression crossed Grams’ face, and she took a single step toward me.
But then, anger clouded her expression once again, and I knew I’d lost.
“You do not get to open that portal,” Grams growled, her voice so low it was barely more than a breath of air. “End of story.”
For once, Grams was the one to stomp out. I heard her footsteps clomp up the stairs and then forced myself not to wince when she slammed her door so hard the entire house shook. For an old woman, she was still pretty darn strong.
Heavy, loud silence fell across the three of us then. The kind where you can literally hear the buzzing of the atoms in the air and can imagine in your mind the path the electrons take around it.
Marcella was still sitting on the couch, chopsticks in hand. But they’d frozen halfway between the plate and her mouth, and they were just hanging there, with a piece of gyoza squished between them. Mom, on the other hand, had her head in her hands so she could slowly massage the temples. I couldn’t tell if she was tired of these arguments we seemed to keep having, or if she was working up the courage not to blow up at me either.
I waited a split second more, hoping the woman who birthed me would say something to let me know that she was on my side. But when she remained silent, my temper flared up.
“Fine,” I spat, shaking my head. “Don’t say anything in my defense. But you can tell Grams when she emerges from her cave that I’m a forty-year-old woman, and only I decide when it’s the end of the story now.”
With that, I stomped out of the room. But I didn’t follow the same path Grams had taken, up the stairs and to my bedroom. Thankfully, I now had someone else’s place to sleep when the energy at home felt like it was just waiting to suffocate me.
Which was why I got into my Prius and sped off to Hunter’s place.
12
“And I just can’t comprehend why she thinks she gets to be the sole decision-maker,” I was hollering toward the living room.
I’d made it to Hunter’s house in record time, and was now in the kitchen attempting to heat up a cup of comforting hot chocolate on the six-burner stove. Of course, the rather advanced appliances in his kitchen proved difficult for a woman with very little cooking skills to use, but I’d managed to light the stove and pour a cup of milk into the pot. I was not playing a game I liked to call “try not to burn the milk on this fancy, high heat stove.”
“Maybe because she has been for so long,” he replied, his voice soft as he emerged from around the corner. “Maybe we also shouldn’t yell loud enough to wake up the entire neighborhood. I don’t really need the cops to come knocking, wondering why we’re yelling at each other.”
“Good point,” I nodded, waving the rubber spoon around. “But so what if she feels like it’s been up to her for so long? I mean, she did have my mom, after all.”
“Not to be, well, rude, but does Elle really ever make decisions in that household?” He asked. “I mean, I love your mom, don’t get me wrong, but it seems to me she’s a bit more of a free spirit.”
I mulled over his words, realizing he was absolutely right. Even when I was a kid, Grams was the one deciding which field trips I could go on, and how late I could stay out. I’d always felt like I needed her permission, even when I had my mom’s.
“You’re right,” I sighed. “I’m just not used to being told what to do anymore. Sure, it might be fine for my mom, but I’m a grown woman. I’ve lived on my own for twenty years. I don’t want to come home and get told what I can and cannot do, especially where this is concerned.”
“So don’t.”
The words were simple. The execution of the words would be simple. But somehow, it felt blasphemous t
o even think about doing what Hunter was suggesting.
I wasn’t the type to live dangerously and go against the rules, even when those rules were nothing more than the words of an old woman. In fact, Grams’ rather strict rules were probably why I had become a D.A. in the first place. As eccentric as the old woman might be, she still liked things a certain way. And if she didn’t get them that way all hell would break loose.
“What are you thinking?” Hunter asked when I didn’t even acknowledge his statement.
“I’m thinking that the milk is burning,” I replied, distracting myself by turning the stove and pouring the boiling milk into my mug, already set up with the hot chocolate mix in the very bottom.
Hunter waited patiently while I poured and stirred, knowing that I needed to take my time to think properly.
I sipped on the velvety smooth chocolate mixture, allowing myself to get lost in the taste for a brief second, in hopes that some sort of answer would come to me.
When none did, though, I turned back to Hunter.
“I don’t know,” I finally admitted. “Going against what Grams wants is just so… not in my nature. You know I used to ask her for permission to eat dessert even when my mom had already handed me an ice cream cone.”
“I did not know that, "Hunter laughed. “I think it’s pretty adorable.”
“Yeah, sure,” I rolled my eyes. “Imagine how I felt when she said no, though.”
“Did you eat it anyway?”
“No,” I sighed. “I’d put it back or throw it away. Grams’ word was law.”
Hunter bit his lip, chewing on it like it was his words, and then stepped toward me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, giving me a gentle tug. I listened to his silent urging and stepped forward, pressing a hand against his firm chest.
I let myself just stand there, sniffing his scent and trying to forget about the fight I’d just caused.
“Why don’t we sleep on it?” Hunter finally offered.
Underneath his words, though, was a silent invitation. I knew what sleeping meant.
It was an act that would occur in his bed. At night. And I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any actual sleeping.
My stomach flipped over on itself, both out of excitement and nerves. It didn’t take me long to come to a decision where this was concerned, though.
“Okay,” I replied with a soft smile. “I’ll sleep on it.”
Hunter grinned back at me, then leaned over and kissed me with a hungry fire that made my bones turn into jelly.
That was nothing compared to how we spent the rest of the night. My bones may have been jelly after that wonderful kiss, but Hunter spent the next two hours making my entire body turn to jelly.
And I loved it.
Though, when I woke up, I discovered that I loved it about half as much.
My entire body hurt.
Literally.
All of it.
Which I didn’t think was even physically possible. I wasn’t sure if that meant that Kenneth and I had been having boring sex, or if Hunter just happened to be extraordinarily talented, but all I had to do was roll over in his massive, four-poster bed to feel the sore muscles tingle up and down my belly.
“Ughhhhh,” I groaned, stuffing my face into the pillow underneath me.
“Good morning to you, two,” he murmured, rolling over to kiss my shoulder. “You need to work out more.”
It was meant to be a complete and total joke, I knew, but I still found myself slapping him off of me so I could groan into his woodsy smelling pillow in peace.
“You are both my favorite and least favorite person right now,” I accused, finally mustering up the energy to pull myself up from the bed and put some clothes on.
“Would I curry more of your favor if I took you to one of the best coffee places in town?”
That gave me pause. I had pulled my shirt halfway over my head when he made his offer, and I instantly froze as I thought it over.
And yes, my freezing had everything to do with the need to think and absolutely nothing to do with the raging fire taking over every muscle in my body. Of course.
“You’ll have a hard time beating Rockstar, but you’re welcome to try,” I finally allowed.
Which was how we ended up striding down the sidewalk, hand in hand, while the child of an early Portland morning swept over us.
The cool air was welcome. I hoped it at least managed to help keep the blush in my cheeks at bay. Every time I glanced over at Hunter, my face grew as hot as one of the fires I was now so adept at conjuring up. I kept flashing back to the night before, and how he made me feel.
And how I made him feel.
Although I couldn’t help but be a little bit miffed that his muscles seemed to be in perfect working order.
My annoyance was quickly surpassed by shock and excitement, though, when I felt the breeze pick up, and saw the edges of the world begin to change on the periphery of my vision. The shadow world was taking over, coming into view.
“Hunter, the veil,” I said, stopping completely as I watched the transition.
This time, I could still feel his hand in mine, even though I couldn’t see him.
Just a few feet away from us the veil sat, bobbing slowly up and down over the sidewalk, inviting me in with its bright colors and warm breeze. There was no one around to question it if I suddenly disappeared, and no one to stop me.
I thought back to last night when Hunter had said it was my decision. This was my life. My choice.
And then, even though I knew Grams would fully disapprove, I ran full force toward the veil, fully intent on leaping through it and into the world of the fae.
“Shannon, wait!” Hunter cried out. But the moment my hand left him, his yell was cut off, and I could no longer hear anything but the tinkling, musical sound of the breeze.
Through the portal, I was able to make out a grassy field, but there wasn’t a soul in sight.
I gave myself a split second to hesitate.
Is this really the best plan?
But then I thought of Magda, and Laslow, and the countless other fae who were living their life on the other side, unable to cross over and interact with any of us.
How many other families had been forced to split up? How many halfling children had grown up with only one parent, constantly wondering who they were and where they came from.
How many fae parents were on the other side, wishing they could see their children one more time?
I thought of Tanya, and my mother, and the halfling I’d read about in the old hunter’s journal.
They all deserved happiness. They deserved a bridge between two worlds, no matter what.
And clearly, that started with me.
Without another thought, I leaped through the veil, crashing through what felt like a freezing cold wall of ice before I landed, hard, on the dirt below me. The last thing I felt was my head slamming against a rock, so hard I was almost certain I’d just broken my entire brain. And then, the warm, bright world of the fae went dark around me.
13
“Shannon, come on, you’ve got to get up.”
I was vaguely aware that it was Hunter’s voice in my ear, but I didn’t want to listen to it. I was warm and comfortable in his bed, exhausted from the previous night’s activities. The least a guy could do was give a woman some time to sleep in after all of that. If he wanted breakfast or something, he was perfectly welcome to make it himself and bring it to me in bed.
In fact, I decided I’d just stay asleep until Hunter did precisely that. So I squeezed my eyes shut even more and snuggled down into the mattress below me to keep on sleeping.
Except the mattress was spiky and rough. It felt more like I was laying on rocks than a nice, comfortable bed. I didn’t remember it feeling that way the night before.
“Shannon, wake up.” There he went again. “Shannon, seriously now, just open your eyes for me. Give me some sort of sign that you’re awake.”
Wel
l, now he’d gone and done it. Annoyance flared at his unnecessary insistence that I wake up just to do… God only knew what. Slowly, I forced myself to peel an eye open, ready to glare right into his own icy gray ones.
But instead of Hunter’s eyes, I was faced with a blinding yellow light. It sent a sharp, piercing pain up my right temple, causing me to squeeze my eyes shut again, trying to block out the light. Even when they were closed, though, the pain was still there, throbbing slowly.
That’s when I noticed that my head felt hot right where the pain was. And wet.
“Okay, good, you’re not dead.”
Dead. Dead? Why would I be dead?
The mere thought of that was enough for me, and the fear-driven adrenaline helped me spring to my feet.
It wasn’t until I was standing, eyes wide open, that I realized I wasn’t on a mattress. I wasn’t even in Hunter’s bed. I was in a forest of some sort.
But it wasn’t any forest I’d ever seen. This one was full of bright colors and enormous plants. They were all the most vibrant, beautiful shades of blues and purples and greens and orange, looking like a cross between Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and the jungles I imagined would inhabit the center of the earth.
The trees stood tall around me, ascending at least a hundred feet into the sky, with bright orange and green striped trunks, like a candy cane.
Flowers covered the forest floor, serving as a layer of pretty colors that managed to hide the dense detritus beneath it.
That was when everything came flooding back. I wasn’t in Hunter’s bed, not by a long shot.
I wasn’t even in my own world anymore.
“Oh no,” I groaned, realizing quickly that I’d made a snap decision without even thinking it through.
I turned to Hunter, who was sitting cross-legged on the forest floor, looking cool as a cucumber.
“Welcome to the world of the fae,” he grinned.
“Some welcome,” I grimaced, touching my head where the sharp pain was. I could feel warm, sticky blood beneath my fingers, but it was already working on clotting. The wound wasn’t that bad, especially since head wounds tended to bleed far more than any other wound. I might have a concussion, but that would likely be the worst of it.
Paranoia, Pixies and Prophecies Page 9