“Why do I feel like a hostage?” I asked.
“Because you’re overdramatic,” Cliff said.
“Excuse me, I’mreasonablydramatic.” I discreetly tried to peek between my fingers and only glimpsed white landscape before Jon noticed.
“Keep your eyes covered,” Jon insisted, pulling me further from the window.
“Don’t you ever get tired of being so observant?” I grumbled.
But I knew as well as anyone that his vigilance had saved me for the umpteenth time that night. Despite the boys’ strange giddiness, unmistakable tension still clouded the air after Jon had shared the news of the harpy with Cliff. The matter was far from being laid to rest. This little venture was only a pause.
At long last, the car leveled out and came to a stop. Doors opened, letting in the chill that battled the car’s heater. Jon carried me outside and stepped away from the car for several long paces.
“Okay,” he said. “Open your eyes.”
Blinking, I fluttered out of his hand and gasped. The treeline was behind us, and the sky blossomed overhead in a dizzying, cloudless expanse. A valley of frost-covered greenery stretchedtoward sloping mountains, looking ancient and holy. Everything was kissed in a majestic deep purple as night closed in.
“Thought you might want to soak in the view before we hit the road to scope out new locations tomorrow.” Cliff didn’t bother to hide his boastful tone as he drank in my slack-jawed stare.
“It doesn’t even look real,” I sighed. “Definitely worth being mysteriously kidnapped for.”
Cliff gave a soft snort of laughter. “We’re out here for more than the view, though.”
I turned to find him fiddling with a lighter, catching flame to a single pink candle atop a frosted cupcake absolutely packed with chocolate sprinkles. The wick finally took, and he brought it closer to me. I looked between him and the cupcake, puzzled.
“Happy birthday,” Jon said, breathless as though he had been holding in those words for some time.
“W-what?” I sputtered. “How—how do you—”
“You said you were born under the last new moon before the winter solstice, right?” Jon grinned when my eyes widened. “We did the math and a little internet scouring. Twenty-two years ago, the new moon would have fallen tonight. Today’s your birthday, Sylv.”
Perhaps I should have expected something like this. The boyshadacted strangely when I mentioned that fairies didn’t celebrate individual birthdays the way humans did. We commemorated the passing of each year in small, family gatherings. Nothing elaborate and lavish like so many humans did.
I couldn’t even follow their calendar well enough to know when my own birthday landed, buttheyhad done it. Had I not known them well enough, this attention to detail would have been disturbing—hunters researching, cataloging information, knowing far more than they ought to.
“Fucking stars, I almost got eaten by a harpy on mybirthday.” My casual attempt at a chuckle was a pitifully strangled noise as I looked between the boys with unbridled affection. “I—what do I do now? I don’t know what to say.”
Jon beckoned me closer. “You don’t have to do anything—just enjoy. We have gifts for you.”
I gasped. “There’smore?”
Cliff dug into his jacket pocket and produced my snowflake charm. He had restrung the plastic bauble on a stronger chain, the previous one having been worn down from our adventures. Another charm rested against the snowflake—a circular golden token etched with stars.
“You’re going through my things now?” I half-heartedly smacked Cliff’s hand as I accepted the gift.
“Hey, you loot through my stuff every other day to add to your stash. At least I’m giving this back, with interest.”
“I suppose I’ll forgive you.” I wound the necklace around my waist, the weight of it both familiar and new.
Jon pulled an envelope from his pocket next. “I realized you don’t have any pictures of home. And I know there’s no looking back, but it doesn’t hurt to have a piece of it.” He reverently unveiled a sturdy piece of paper and turned a glossy photo toward me.
A small noise of awe escaped me. I brushed my fingers over the image of a painfully familiar type of forest, with lush branches cloaked in an autumn mist.
“It’s a postcard of North Carolina,” Jon explained. “The closest area to Elysia I could find. I’ll keep it in the sun visor for you. We can pull it down whenever you want.”
Smiling through tears, I wiped my face. “Thank you.”
I zipped to each of them to embrace them.
