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“Sweet,” says Renae.
Paxton’s girlfriend has taken the unusual step today of wearing a short, pleated skirt. (It is of course black with applique skulls on it.) She usually goes for the androgynous gothy look, favoring baggy pants and oversized tops. Not sure what the occasion is.
The girls pause the movie and hurry to the kitchen. No sign of Tammy. Hmm. She’s probably doing homework with her headphones on. I head down the hall to her room, knock, and wait. After a minute of no response, I knock louder and peek inside.
Books on the bed, but no Tammy. The room also smells like a can of ‘forest freshness’ Glade exploded. I’m about to go grab my phone so I can call her when the large word ‘MOM’ written in heavy black marker on a notebook catches my eye. Okay, this is confusing. Tammy—at least not anymore—isn’t the ‘sneak out of the house without telling me’ type of teenager.
I walk over to the bed and look at the note.
Mom – Maple borrowed me. Back tomorrow. Don’t worry.
Maple? Oh… the faerie queen? That explains the fragrance in the air. Good thing I’m not allergic to faerie dust. Why would she borrow my daughter? For the life of me, I can’t imagine what they’d want from her. She’s just an ordinary person now. Hmm. I sit on the side of the bed, reading the note again. Losing telepathyhasbothered her to a degree. More than her awkward inability to understand body language, she feels weak and helpless. I know Tammy doesn’t like being the helpless normal person caught in a swirling storm of supernatural chaos. Love it or hate it, her wide-ranging telepathy had given us all an edge. Hmm... I wonder if she’s trying to ask Maple to re-unlock her telepathy? Doubt that’s going to happen. The telepathy wasn’t hers to begin with.
The source had emanated from Elizabeth, of course, spreading first to her son, then me, then to Tammy. I should be angry with Elizabeth for everything my daughter’s going through—first with the overwhelming telepathy and then with her feelings of inadequacy for losing it—but there’s no point. The woman is gone.
I tap the notebook against my leg a few times, wondering how to process this new development.
Not getting any bad vibes here. There’s no sense of ‘something is wrong and I need to do something’ hitting me. Maple might be tiny but sheisthe faerie queen, after all. Lot of power packed into that small body of hers. It’s unlikely she’s going to bring my kid anywhere dangerous. Another minute of sitting there fails to change the vibe, so I decide to accept that Tammy is safe.
Wouldn’t be the first time she had dinner at a friend’s place, though she doesn’t usually travel to magical fairy realms... if that’s where she is.
I return to the kitchen.
“Where’s Tam Tam?” asks Paxton.
“With Maple.” I sit, still lost in thought.
“The faerie?” Anthony looks up from his plate.
“That’s not nice,” mutters Renae.
“No.” Paxton snickers. “He’s being literal.”
Renae glances at her. “Literal?”
“Yeah, you know.” Paxton smiles. “Five inches tall. Wings. Glows?”
Anthony and I manage to not freak out too obviously. Pax trusts Renae completely. We haven’t exactly introduced her to all the craziness yet. If the two of them end up being more than high school sweethearts, the day will eventually come where it’s inevitable Renae is brought into the know about the paranormal. For now, though, we try to keep it quiet.
“You’re being weird again.” Renae chuckles.
Paxton flashes an eerie sort of smile, like what one might expect to see on a forest nymph hiding powerful secrets about the fate of the universe. “I know.”
The remainder of dinner goes by in a far more mundane manner than talk of faeries. Paxton loves having official family dinner time. She’s an unusual kid in that I never have to ask her to stop looking at her phone or put the electronics down.
From what she tells me, having actual conversations with each other during dinner is kinda rare these days. Her school friends are all loaded up with various extracurricular activities, or the parents are too busy with work and whatever else. Seems the ‘American norm’ lately is everyone microwaving their own food whenever they have time to.
Grumbling about that makes me feel kind of old. Not going to criticize anyone for the life society pushed on them. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy having unusual kids who actually appreciate spending time with their family.
Just another layer of weird among many, right?
***
I’m in the middle of doing dishes a bit later that evening when my cell phone starts ringing.
It’s in my bedroom, and the ringtone tells me it’s someone calling the business line. Since I’m elbow deep in hot, soapy water, I decide to cheat and call the dancing flame. A short teleport to the other side of my house is not only instant, it lets me leave the water and soap in the sink—and not on my hands. Stuff that isn’t part of my body that’s touching me, I can decide whether or not to bring along. Technically, I could teleport straight out of my clothing if I wanted to. Thus far, the desire to do so hasn’t happened.
I answer the phone. “Moon Investigations. Sam speaking.”
