Vi’s critical gaze whips back to Ruby as she descends on a silver tray full of white chocolate truffles. “Summer, is that . . . the thing you told us about?”
“Yes.” I glance at Ruby, praying she’s on her best behavior. “Her name’s Ruby, and she’s not a thing, she’s a sprite.”
Unaware she’s being assessed, Ruby smashes a truffle bigger than her head into her mouth, lets out a loud belch, and breaks into a bizarre dance.
Vi’s eyes narrow. “Charming.”
Before Ruby can devour the second truffle, wild screeching draws my focus to the two blue-skinned sprites perched on the contemporary bronze light fixture above.
What the Fae hell?
The creatures dive bomb Ruby, and the three tumble together in battle. China shatters, tulip petals explode in the air, and my cake gets knocked to the delicate Angora rug below.
“Lily Pad. Dew Drop. No!” Nick scolds, rushing to stamp out the candles smoldering on the rug.
Vi’s mouth has fallen open in horror. “What are . . . those horrid little creatures?”
“Sebastian!” Nick glares at his husband. “I thought you locked them up.”
Sebastian frowns. “I did.”
Mack leans over and whispers, “Sebastian recently bought Nick two pet sprites to help with his anxiety while I’m gone. But they’re wicked, half-feral beasts, and they can’t find the black-market trader to return them.”
Eclipsa laughs. “Did the dealer not explain to you those are water sprites? Their habitat includes bogs and lakes, not high-rises and antique china. Without water, they become violent and deranged.”
Nick shoots Sebastian an I-told-you-so look.
Meanwhile, the fight between Ruby and the water sprites moves to the living room, quickly laying waste to a very expensive looking glass lamp and a pink phallic sculpture.
I would find Ruby’s predicament hilarious, if Aunt Vi didn’t look two seconds away from murdering everyone with the cake knife to her left.
Ugh. All my work over the summer break trying to make Vi accept the Fae world and it’s unraveling before my eyes. How will she ever accept that I’m a Fae if she hates everything about their world?
2
Zinnia takes one look at the worry on my face and jumps into action. “Vi, let’s get some fresh air. Lookie”—Zinnia waggles a half-empty pack of slims in front of her—“I brought your slims.”
Vi nods, clutching Zinnia’s hand, her shocked gaze never leaving the sprites as she lets Zinnia guide her toward the glass doors leading to the sweeping balcony. Nick, who knows everything about our family, thanks to his long gabfests with Zinnia, quickly whips up a martini for my aunt and rushes to follow.
Eclipsa begins some sort of spell to calm the sprites. While she and Sebastian circle the battling creatures, Mack drags me down the hall.
“Sorry this turned into such a shitshow,” she says. “But I stashed a couple cans of emergency frosting in my room.”
From the other end of the corridor, Sebastian screams, “Not the Neiman Marcus drapes!”
As soon as I cross into her room, my jaw goes slack. “Holy Fae ears, your lady-cave is bigger than our entire house in Texas.”
She waltzes across the floor, flips on some music, and says in Gaelic, “Mo taigh, do taigh.”
My house, your house.
The space is an open concept, with a zebra printed leather loveseat, curtained off reading nook, bathroom with a claw-footed tub, and a mini-fridge stocked full of Mountain Dew and orange Fanta. Her sprawling king-sized bed rests above on the loft, the railing decorated with flashing Faerie lights.
A skylight paints the hardwood floor in golden light, and neon orange and teal butterflies dive in the sunbeam like giant dust motes, their magic impossible to ignore. A slight breeze ruffles white lace curtains framing the open balcony door.
A floor-to-ceiling mirror hangs to my right. My reflection catches me off guard, and I briefly inspect the woman staring back.
My thick, wavy blonde hair is pulled into a high ponytail, streaks of sun-bleached platinum catching the light. Long, lean arms tanned from my daily runs give me a surfer girl vibe. The only makeup I wear is a thick sweep of eyeliner that makes my hazel eyes—more gold than green at the moment—appear larger than normal.