Everything. Everything that Heather had been waiting for the right time to let her in on, guilt seeping into me with every word. But if not now, then when? We have been running in circles and are no closer to the end.
She should know what the situation is—and how dire I fear it is becoming.
We sit together, not bothering with the formality of gathering at the table or brewing a pot of tea. The coffee she brought home goes untouched as I honestly tell her everything I can. The way I fell onto her daughter’s roof, the way Heather aided me, the truth of my origins and my history on this mortal plane and outside of it. She just listens, except for an occasional ‘hmm’, her brow furrowed. That is, until I explain our failed attempt to find Heather through the portal that sent us here.
“Buffering” is what Heather would call it. The room is silent until Marsha finally nods, grabbing for her coffee that has gone cold and taking several gulps.
“So, let me get this straight, you’re royalty from another world?” Her eyebrows pinch together, and mouth in a straight unamused line.
“Yes.”
“And… and some fancy rich vampire just stole my daughter? Days before her wedding?”
“Also correct,” I reply, trying and failing to keep the defeat from both my tone and my shoulders.
“And my daughter’s response to this ridiculous situation is to set up her kidnapper with a dating profile?” Marsha is shouting now. It is not an unreasonable reaction. “Andyou’re telling me her soul is bound to him with some kind of … spell?”
“That is the gist of it.” Holly groans from her spot behind me. “But as far as a rich vampire, King Magnus is not as well-to-do as some would think. When he accepted the invitation to last year’s ball, he showed up in clothes from three seasons ago with hunger in his eyes. His kingdom is in all but ruin, and he wants a rich faerie royal to ease his troubles.”
“You think he kidnapped her for money?” Rosie asks. “There must be something more to the story here. Moth is the one who’s a prince.”
“Please.” Marsha snorts. “Heather was the internet’s princess for years. I made some mistakes oversharing her personal life, but every cent she made was put into savings. She did well enough to buy this place.” She leans against the doorway, and a piece of trim splinters, leaving her stumbling.
“Indeed.” Pepper’s brow pinches. “And as lovely as it may be, the vampire king’s actions will have consequences.”
“To say the least,” I reply with honesty, flexing my claws reflexively. I am glad when Marsha does not seem afraid. “We just need to find her first.”
“But she’s safe, right?” Marsha asks, her voice rising into something more frantic. “Please tell me she’s safe.”
“Yes, we have no reason to believe the vampire king would hurt her,” Holly replies, her eyes cast to the floor for a moment. “During the brief conversation she had with Moth, she assured us as much.”
Marsha lets out a long sigh, easing herself into one of the armchairs.
“Trying to help this guy, it’s very on-brand for Heather,” Marsha says. “She’s always been too worried about hurting people’s feelings, even when she’d get attacked by trolls, she’d always say they must be having a worse day than she was.”
“Must we addtrollsto the list of foes to contend with?” Holly sighs, shaking her head. “My sister-in-law has seen many battles.”
I open my mouth, debating on whether or not to explain what a troll is in terms of the internet, but Rosie looks my way and shakes her head. We simply do not have the time.
“So, you’re all on this noble quest, hopping through portals, doing God-knows-what.” Marsha exhales. She shakes her head, pulling a bright pink cellphone from her pocket. “And you don’t know where she’s being held at all?”
“For all we know, she isn’t even in the faerie realms at all,” I admit. “The fact she was able to call suggests that if she isn’t in the mortal realm, the veil is thin where she is.”
“Then I’ll handle this.” Marsha holds her phone as if it is a weapon. Her thumbs skillfully fly across her keyboard, typing and typing until—“There!”
She hands me the phone, revealing a post on Heather’s social media account.
I grimace. Heather would hate this, but it may work. She’s been tagged in countless unflattering photos over the years, and the lack of privacy is something she has spoken about before, so it’s not exactly left field. Still, I believe her followers will find it … odd.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Rosie says, lunging for the phone. “You have your daughter’s passwords? That’s not okay!”
“Do you think that’s the biggest problem we have to focus on right now?” Marsha says, crossing her arms, keeping the device tightly in her hand. “Yes? Okay! And no, I do not log in to spy on her. She’s had some of these accounts since she was a teenager, and I’m still one of the recovery emails—and would you stop looking at me like that?”
“This will bode results?” I ask, noting that while this may not be the “biggest problem,” it will be addressed as soon as this crisis is handled. However, we cannot just keep sitting and waiting.
“It will get people talking and looking, which is what we need.” She sighs. “If we’re lucky, some news outlets will pick it up—Ijustreposted from my account which will help.”
