I pause.
Love.Of course. It’s something they have all expressed—though, sometimes, with teasing—but I had not stopped to realize that my friends are not worried about what my claws will do; they care for my well-being.
“It is a strange thing,” I manage to say, realizing Marsha is staring intently as if waiting for a response. “Over the last few days, I have had to contend with the idea of leaning on Heather or these new friends. There is a feeling of weakness in it, a feeling that because I cannot do it all myself, I am not enough.”
“You’ve been alone for a long time.” She nods. “We’re both relearning how to connect, huh? As you pointed out earlier, I haven’t always been the best mom to her.” She brings the conversation back to her, something that would surely annoy Heather, but I am thankful for. “I’ve been selfish. I’m sure you’ve heard all about the ways I told Heather’s stories—every little embarrassing detail of her childhood is on my blog. I was so clouded by building my brand, my community, that I didn’t realize the impact it would have on her as an adult. I always wanted her to follow in my footsteps, but I’m glad to see what she’s built out here with you. Her new art pieces have been stunning. I don’t think she would have gotten there without logging off the way she did.”
“She is a talent.” I should like to get some of the images she’s made framed rather than be forced to enjoy them on such a small digital screen.
“She sure is.” Marsha smiles wistfully. “It was always just us in our little bubble—until she got old enough to start reading the comments. I suppose ‘don’t feed the trolls’ probably has another meaning in your realm, huh?”
“I suppose it must.” I sink into one of the kitchen chairs, realizing I cannot adequately have this conversation while pacing.
“It must be hard not to remember everything,” she says, a sadness on her face. “So many gaps to try to fill in…”
“It feels as if I am supposed to recover them to move on.” I shake my head. “But, memories I can make more of—as long as they have my flame in them, I will be content.”
“Your flame.” She giggles. “Look, you’re going through a rebrand. We’ve all been there. You don’t need to remember who you were to become the person you want to be.”
Weight eases from my chest. I now understand why Heather calls this woman a few times a week to chat despite their complicated relationship. Unwillingly, I am finding it easy to be candid with her.
“I’m glad you two found each other. Even if it feels like she’s farther away than ever…”
“The faerie realm is—”
“No, before this.” She sighs. “I know it’s my fault for breaking her trust. Some days it just feels like it’s going to take my whole life to earn it back.”
“But still, you are here.” I nod, unsure of what else to say to her in this moment. Heather has spoken at length about what damage growing up in the spotlight has done. It is not as if it was something she was born into—everything her mother shared online was a choice. Marsha has changed a lot in a very short time. But seeing how quickly she was able to hack into her daughter’s accounts to post this “test” was eerie.
“You mentioned the post has gotten … more traction?” I ask, not meaning to change the subject. She hesitates but passes me the phone. A feed of blurry photos tagged with Heather’s alias is laid out before me. I cringe. Heather is right to be paranoid; there are photos of us in the mix. Subconsciously, I feel myself shrinking at the sight of the two us of at the festival of my likeness in Point Pleasant. I’m fully transformed and Heather, like always, is stunning.
“Those wings are actually hers, huh?” Marsha asks, blinking rapidly.
“Beautiful, are they not?”
She swallows hard. “And that’s—”
“Me. Yes.” I frown as her jaw drops.
She finally lands on, “I didn’t think you could get taller…” before choking out a strange laugh. “The rest of the results are nothing worth mentioning. A few more interesting photos of the pair of you spotted in public, but that’s not exactly going to help us, is it?”
Except as a reminder to not get lost in myself again.The last thing we need is another monster hunter showing up at our door. I stand, unable to sit still for a moment longer. I itch to spread my wings and claws but cannot risk being seen.
The vampire is enough to contend with at the moment. But it is a strange comfort to see the power of the internet. If Magnus is truly keeping her somewhere in this realm, we might have a real chance at finding her with this method, as off-putting as I find it.
“You’re just going to keep pacing all night, aren’t you?” Marsha asks, and I did not realize I had begun again.
“It is likely,” I answer honestly.
Sprout picks up his head, letting out an annoyed huff.
“Am I disturbing you?” I ask, dipping down to pat the fur of his head. The large hound picks himself up and walks to the bedroom, claiming the center of the bed with a flop.
At least one of us will be getting some sleep tonight.
“Come on,” Marsha says, patting the empty spot on the couch. “Heather has got to have aGilmore GirlsDVD or something around here…”
17.
