She was beautiful, my mother, or she used to be. She wasn’t now, but somewhere beneath the puffiness, smeared mascara, and garish pink tracksuit, traces of it still clung to her. Yesterday’s makeup lingered like a shadow beneath her eyes, and she’d coated her full lips in a hideous dark lipstick that didn’t match the tracksuit.
“What is it, hen? You haven’t visited us since you moved in with Parker. Not that I blame you. He’s a right catch, that one.” She squinted at me, eyes bleary with drink. “And what happened to your face?”
“I don’t want to talk about that, I want to talk about my father.”
“Your father’s at work. Useless wee shite, so he is.”
A muscle in my jaw clenched. My dad was the nicest man you’d ever meet, but he was sad and tired after years of never being good enough for my mother.
“You did well to snare that lad. The Stewarts are a good family. You’ll have a better life with him.” My mother nodded knowingly, looking at Morganaand Aranare for support.
Morgana offered her a polite, tight-lipped smile, but Aranare’s fists were balled up beside him on the vulgar couch.
“I was a great beauty once, you know...” Mom sighed, and I rolled my eyes.
Here we go.
Her rosy cheeks caved as she drew on her cigarette. She exhaled a plume of smoke into Aranare’s face while peering at him earnestly. “Folk always thought I would leave this town and make it big somewhere like Hollywood.” She stubbed her smoke into an ashtray on the small table beside the couch.
“I know you cheated on Dad,” I interrupted. Tears bit at the corners of my eyes as I glared at her.
“I gave up my whole life for that man,” she slurred, taking a long gulp of her cheap chardonnay, probably from a box.
“But there was someone else, wasn’t there?” My voice was sharp, though it trembled beneath the surface.
“Skye,” Aranare said gently. “It may not have been entirely her fault. Our kind can be... hard to resist when we want to be.”
“It would have been her fault. You don’t know her.”
Mom took another gulp of wine, her eyes glassy.
Aranare stood and moved to me, placing his hand on the small of my back. “The Agápe Sirens are skilled in mind magic. Why don’t you try using it on her?” He jerked his head at my mother. “They draw everything from the power of love.”
He traced a finger across the fabric of my sweater, just above my heart, and warmth bloomed beneath his touch as his hand hovered close to the swell of my breasts.
“Just like your mama.” Mom’s hiccup of a chuckle as she looked between Aranare and me reignited my anger.
I turned to Aranare. “Tell me what to do.”
“Just as Morgana can channel peace, you should be able to flood the room with euphoria, drawn from love. Like a wave of ecstasy. When she feels that, she’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
I blew out a breath.
“That’s it. Relax.” Aranare stepped behind me, folding his arms across his chest.
I peered over my shoulder at him. “What do I do now?”
“Think about the feeling of love.New love.” He moved closer, his body now only inches from mine. “You know the feeling?”
I swallowed and nodded.
“Good.” He grazed my elbow with his thumb. “Let that feeling fill you until you can feel it throughout your body.”
I focused on the subtle heat of his hand against my skin, how something so small could set me alight. I could feel his nearness like a pulse, knowing that if I stepped back just once, I’d be pressed against him. I let the euphoria flood through me and closed my eyes.
“Now ask your questions.” Aranare’s voice startled me. I had surrendered to the rush, the electric thrill of new love coursing through me like a spell I didn’t want to break.
“This wine tastes like the gods’ own honey!” my mother cried, smacking her lips and throwing the glass back. “I am in love with life today.” Her eyes were glistening and wide with a happiness I had never seen on her before, and that made my heart clench, but only momentarily.
