A bird landed on the windowsill outside with a gentletap, making my fingers pause halfway through braiding Hazel’s thick red hair. We both straightened as it tilted its head, spotting us through the glass with round black eyes.
It must’ve been a cardinal—or at least, it used to be. The bright red plumage was now altered by the strange magic as much as the climate; streaked with gold and silver feathers as intricate as a peacock’s. Hazel gave a coo of intrigue when the bird moved, fanning its tail.
“Can you feel what that one’s thinking?” I asked, resuming weaving locks of hair.
“Animal affinities aren’tmind readers,”she giggled. But she fell quiet—staring. “I think he wants to come inside.” Hazel glanced over her shoulder at me, giving me a pleading look.
“No way,” I chuckled. “Birds areneverfriendly to fae. Besides, I doubt Delilah would be keen on inviting in every creature that passes through.”
“Hummingbirds are nice!”
“Alright,oneexception for hummingbirds.”
The cardinal took wing, a brilliant flash of red and gold as it fluttered out of sight. Hazel wilted a little, but relaxed into my touch as I put the finishing touches on her braid.
“You said it was a bird you felt when you first discovered your affinity, right?” I asked, softening my voice—trying to mask the pain of missing such a crucial moment.
Hazel nodded, scooting around to face me again. “It was some time after Louisiana. I remember Father was complaining about your hunters changing cars. We were outside, eating lunch, when I heard a hatchling calling for its mother. Only I didn’tjust hear it—all of a sudden, Ifeltit!” Hazel’s eyes went wide, her little hands gesturing wildly as she recounted. “Mother and Father were all upset when I started sobbing out of nowhere, and they didn’t understand until I pointed out the lost chick. I thought I wasbrokenuntil they realized what was happening. And once they helped me focus, I was able to calm the chick down.”
Her freckled cheeks glowed with pride, and I beamed, squeezing her shoulders. “Of course you did. You were born for this.”
How baffling to picture the three of them sharing a picnic lunch while trailing my meandering journey with Jon and Cliff. Not for the first time, jealousy stabbed me at the image of Hazel enjoying the dual attentions of Mother and Father—unbound by any strict regulations of Elysia. The childhood she was meant to have. I imagined them cutting jam sandwiches and remarking on the human oddities they came across at various motels.
Immediately, guilt swept over any envy. Those moments Hazel had these past months were far from idyllic, on the run from place to place without stop. And it had all been formysake.
“What was it like?” I probed, still keeping my tone light. “You know… Traveling with Father. Did you take the news better than me? I almost passed out yesterday when I saw his face!”
We shared stilted laughter, equal parts self-aware and still tender. “Well, I didn’t know it was him at first,” Hazel admitted, seeming a little embarrassed at the fact. “But he was really nice, right from the start! He’s funny, too. I’ve even seen him make Mother laugh more than I’ve seen her do in years. He was always buying me gifts and ice cream when we stopped in a new city.” She stopped short, eyes going wide. “Sylvia, have you tried ice cream? It’s delicious. Sweeter than wildberry tarts andcold!”
I laughed, imagining that I’d worn that same manic excitement the first time I’d tried the dessert. “Wait until you try milkshakes.”
Hazel refocused, seeming to force her thoughts away from sweets with great effort. “Anyway, for weeks, Mother just told me he was an old friend of hers. And I—I believed them.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I guess I didn’t remember him enough to know the difference.”
I grasped her hand, giving it a squeeze. “You were only two when he vanished.”
“I know,” she mumbled, shrugging. At nearly twelve summers now, I supposed the weight of such a thing was becoming tangible. “I cried a lot when they finally told me the truth. I was really angry and confused. I think we all cried a lot that night, though. After thinking about it, I realized I’d rather have him different than not have him at all.”
It was spoken so simply, yet it cut straight through the storm still tightening around my own heart. Anger and confusion didn’t begin to cover it, but Hazel was right. There was a lot of good that came with the bad, too.
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s a lot to take in.”
Hazel leaned around me to peer down the hallway that led to the bedrooms, then dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Mother refuses to admit it, but I think she wants him to stay. Like, stayforeveragain.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Really? She kept saying he was one move away from being target practice when he tried to carry her to bed last night.”
She snickered, waving a hand. “She’s been saying that for months now. But she stares at him a lot when he’s not looking. And one time the other week, I caught him kissing her goodnight, and she didn’t stop him. I think she evenlikedit.”
Hazel’s smile became utterly wicked, her arms folded over her chest. I couldn’t help but grin back at her–even if, truthfully, I was struggling to wrap my head around what that would look like. After years of thinking Father gone, the idea of the four of us being a full family again felt like a dream I scarcely deserved.
“Is it true you’ve seen a vampire?” Hazel asked, some of the laughter fleeing her expression.
I suppressed a shiver, remembering the brutal coven in the abandoned video rental store, along with their ruthless, centuries-old leader, Giovanni. I could still feel the icy weight of his gaze when he’d untethered his power to speak directly into my mind that night—before Jon had cleaved his head from his body.
“Several, unfortunately,” I said.
“What were they like? How many fangs do they have?”
“No way, it’ll give you nightmares!” I gasped, giving her shoulder a playful shove.
