CHAPTER1
Sometimes, Cathy wondered just when her sweet, happy little boy had been replaced by a grunting, surly stranger.
He’s still your son, she reminded herself as she excavated what felt like the thousandth dirty sock that week from under Kevin’s bed. Kids can’t stay little forever. He’s growing up, that’s all.
With a sigh, she straightened, tossing the sock into the already overflowing laundry basket. Brushing lint off her knees, she surveyed Kevin’s bedroom. It really needed a two-day deep clean—and possibly an exorcism—but at least it was possible to see some of the floor now. It would have to do.
Balancing a teetering stack of sticky cups, she went downstairs. Her heart sank as she entered the kitchen. She’d cleaned it barely half an hour ago, yet there were already trails of crumbs along the floor. A mangled loaf of bread lay on the work surface like a murder victim, next to a packet of cheese slices that appeared to have been chewed open by a starving wolverine.
Cathy took a deep breath, counting to ten in her head. Then she called, “Kevin? Could you come in here, please?”
The only response was a crackle of simulated gunshots, followed by a computerized scream. Kevin probably could hear her over the sounds of his game, but it was just loud enough that he could plausibly claim he hadn’t.
Pick your battles, Cathy decided. That was what all the parenting books said. You couldn’t have a calm, reasonable conversation with your kid if you got upset at every little thing.
Putting on a carefully neutral expression, she headed for the living room. She paused at the door for a moment, studying her son.
In the past, she would have most likely found him engrossed in drawing detailed maps of some imaginary world, or draped across a chair with his nose in a book. Now she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him voluntarily do anything other than sprawl in front of the TV. It was like some switch in his head had flipped from ‘kid’ to ‘teenager-in-training.’
But he is just a kid, her heart cried. For all his newfound attitude and enormous attitude, Kevin hadn’t changed physically. He was still slight and agile, sandy hair flopping over childish features. He looked so much like he always had that part of her still expected him to bounce over with a gap-toothed smile, thrusting out his latest masterpiece for her to admire.
Instead, Kevin stayed slumped on the sofa, controller gripped in his hands. A half-eaten sandwich lay discarded on the cushion next to him.
Cathy pressed her lips together. She counted to ten again, and then back down to zero. Kevin didn’t ask what she wanted. He stayed glued to his game, thumbs hammering buttons.
“Kevin,” Cathy said. And then, louder, “Kevin. Could you pause that, please?”
He made an annoyed grunt, attention never leaving the screen. “No. I’m online. It’s a ranking match.”
“Well, when you’re done, I need you to help clear up. Tamsin will be here soon. I’m going out tonight, remember? She’s coming round to keep you company while I’m gone.”
His lip curled. “I’m not a little kid. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“If you want to prove that, cleaning up the mess you left in the kitchen would be a good start,” Cathy said, shooting for a tough-but-fair tone. “You have to show me that you can be sensible and responsible before I can leave you alone for a whole evening.”
He grunted again. “Whatever.”
And he’s only twelve.Cathy contemplated the years ahead, like staring down the barrel of a gun. Not even properly a teenager yet. God help me when puberty kicks in.
“Cop on to yourself, you scunner!” Kevin yelled at the screen as his character exploded. He threw down his controller in fury. “The head on you, and a price of cabbage!”
Whatever that meant. Kevin had been coming out with weirder and weirder slang over the past few months. Sometimes it felt like he was talking a different language entirely.
It was all part of growing up, she supposed. Learning things from his peers rather than her, finding his independence Yet it seemed only yesterday that they’d shared a secret language, built up from baby babble and endearing mispronunciations. When ‘lemonade’ had been ‘melonade’ and gloves had been ‘glub glubs’, and shoes had inexplicably become ‘grippergrops.’ Cathy could only imagine the incredulous look she’d get now if she asked Kevin to put on his grippergrops.
Cathy pushed down the twinge of longing for those sweet, simple years. They hadn’t seemed so sweet or simple when she’d been on her knees with exhaustion, struggling to cope with the constant grind of single parenthood. There had definitely been times when she would have loved a surly grunt instead of a constant stream of “Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy Mom!”
“Since your game is over, could you clean this up, please?” she asked, indicating the wrappers strewn across the living room. “I want the house tidy before Tamsin gets here.”
Kevin eyed her suspiciously. “Why? It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before.”
“No, but she might be bringing someone. Her new…” Cathy hesitated, much too long. “Um, friend.”
“Her new… umfriend,” Kevin mimicked, with withering sarcasm. “You mean a boyfriend?”
“Sort of. He’s a bit more than that. He…”
Cathy trailed off. There really wasn’t a child-friendly way to explain that your best friend had been sacrificed to psychopathic fairies by an evil wizard, and had returned from the fae realm with a magic tattoo and a newfound ability to talk to animals. Not to mention a fae warrior—sometimes a horse, sometimes a wolf, but most of the time an extremely well-muscled man—who claimed that he was bound to Tamsin by some deep, spiritual connection.