Everybody Needs a Little Holiday

FAY

"Y

ou've been sold out. Drop what you're doing and leave."

Then, as if about to throw up, my mother gasps, holding her chest. My ears barely pick up her mutter, "Barry, what've you done?"

Honestly, I didn't grasp the full of it. "Who sold what? Barry? Was that a cold call? Told you it was going to be an unsolicited one."

She rests her attention on her phone for quite a while before switching focus. And I'm seconds from calling Dad.

I'm near cardiac arrest when she barks, "Oh! Fay. I forgot to tell you. Didn't see the time. Silly me." Fast on her feet, she clamps my shoulders and shakes me a little. "Follow me."

She dashes through the window, rushes up the house, and leaps through the large opening in the ceiling. "Faster, honey."

"I'm right behind!"

Well, here we go. What's happening here pretty much sums up my entire childhood.

We touch feet in my parents' bedroom. She races for the bed, bends over, and drags a suitcase from under it. Thrown on the bed, she flips it open quickly. "Your father and I are..." She's stuffing the luggage with fuckloads of cash and jewelry. I wasn't even aware of such wealth. There are five different passports sprawled over the blanket. I even recognize Ice Yetianet's nationality from the blue cover. I don't get it.

"Mom?"

"What's his name?"

"Who?"

"The orc!"

"Tyke."

"Tell him to take you there tonight."

It's a jumbled mess of clothes, arms, and stashing without folding.

"Where?"

"To whatever this place is he's planning to take you. Don't let anyone know about it. Tyke must keep it a secret."

"What's going on?" I stop her, trying not to shake her, but I don't know what else to do.

"Fayra." She's panting, stroking my cheek. "We..." she stammers, her lips quaking, "We... you..." Her head shakes as she hustles by, forcing me to step aside at the same time. "No. It's... I need time. You can't be... I can't tell you..."

"Oh, for the love of monsters, can't tell me what?" I burst out, gyrating on my heels as I try to keep track of this spinning top whizzing all over the bedroom.

"We're going on a world trip, and I forgot about it," she replies, as if answering a question on a TV gameshow.

A world trip?

"Melinda!"

"Dad's here!?"

"Coming, Lark."

My dad's voice booms through the room. "Did you receive the ca?—"

I revolve backward, and the next thing I know, I'm rooted to the ground. Or stoned. Both ways work.

My dad glances at me briefly before jolting his head sideways.

"Honey, I couldn't hold it in. I told Fayra we're going on a world trip. Sorry," my mom says at the back.

My father swallows, and I'm suspicious. "With what's happening in New Orc, we're at a perfect opportunity to travel."

He strolls toward me, taking giant leaps, and I probably should run as it feels like a train is about to hit me. "Fay. I'm sorry," he says, wrapping his arms around me in a manner that befits a glacier. I'm anchored to the floor, still very much paralyzed. Maybe he feels it because Dad tightens his arms, building up this hug I needed so damn badly. Eyes foggy, I return his embrace and release one of those exhales. The good ones. Gods, I missed him. "We want you to come with us. New Orc isn't safe. I went to your flat, but no one was there..."

I gently push away, articulating, "Everything is very sudden."

"Sudden things happen, Fayra. Why do accidents happen?" And then he claps my face and smiles. "Why do good things happen, too?"

My mom's voice thunders into the moment. "She's leaving with um..." She waves her angsty arm as if stirring an airborne cauldron, a pinch of fingers straddling her nose. "What's his name? I forgot."

"Tyke."

My head bobs to the right as masculine breathing embrangles. My father's chest puffs, lungs swelling. But then something unexpected comes out of them. "Can you ask him to leave New Orc tonight?"

What?!

I swallow and cough out, "That's not possible. He's not in New Orc. He's only coming back tomorrow."

He throws one of those stares at my mother like she committed a crime.

And then he casts his eyes on me, bright as a bell. However, his words are ringing a completely different tune. "Do you have his number? Give it to me."

A bit of air bites at my lips as I catch my breath. I'm beginning to wheeze, my inhaler in the left drawer of my bedside table, parked unattended as usual. "Sorry, Dad, but I got to ask. Why do you have the sudden urge to call Tyke? You hate him."

His expression sharpens, which aggravates me. "I want to apologize. Making things better between us is nothing to be ashamed of."

Something's fishy, yet here I am, giving Tyke's number.

He repeats the number and taps his grizzled temple with a smile carved from a log. "Got it, thank you." There's a bluff at hand here; we're back at board game night, yet the sun is up, and where are the dice!

My head jolts to my mom's gasps as she tries lifting the suitcase off the bed. "Fayra, sweety, if you're not coming, call someone to pick you up. The streets are not safe. Sure you don't want to come? Maybe a sudden change of heart?"

"I'm in good hands with Tyke. It's going to be fine." I must ask. "How can you forget your trip departure?!"

"I know. Your father and I have been elsewhere these past weeks. Stress is affecting us."

My father walks past me, picks up the suitcase, and flies down. My head keeps bobbing as I watch this frantic show, and I'm breathing hard because it's so unusual. And fuck am I praying for clarity.

The trill of a bird catches me off-guard. The fae song of bait and caution. I wish she could stop doing that, I'm not a kid anymore... "I've got something for you," my mom says with a flicker of her hand as her leafy wings awake, sending my hair flying backward. As quick as a snake, a hand closes just above my wrist bone, her claw-like nails crusting into my flesh. "Come."

Something about her clasp chills me.

We leap down, wings colliding wildly with each other, and land in front of the chimney. My father's in the laundry room, fidgeting with the electricity panel as switches plank. The lights go off, the fridge stops humming, and the house goes silent.

I shiver, witnessing another era winding down. The same feeling I had when I clung to my mother that infamous night.

My mind is whirling with questions as I watch Mom flutter up the wall, unhook the wand, and hand it to me. "Here. I know you've been eying this thing since you could walk."

I push it back roughly. "It's okay. I like to see it here," I say with forced casualness. Yes, very much forced and perhaps a threshold away from emotionally detonating.

"Take it. A gift from Mom." She holds it up to me and presses it against my chest. "I want you to have it."

I exhale and carefully wrap my fingers around the object as if it's nitroglycerine. It's warm under my grip, light yet full of something I can't grasp.

"Fayra, call a friend to pick you up."

It has a glow to it I never realized... more of a halo. Strange how it seems to course into my arm...

I shake my head at my nonsense.

"Fayra! Did you hear me?"

"Yes, Mom. I'll call a friend," I automate, eyes riveted on this object.

The skittering footsteps are the only thing that raises my gaze, and I gasp when safe arms wrap around me.

With the unexpected warmth of my mother's hand cradling my head, I close my eyes and listen. "Call your friend now. We have to go."

A coldness descends upon me as soon as she releases me. However, my father is quick to cover me with his strong ones. "We won't leave until you're in safe hands. I can't believe you flew all this way by yourself..."

We stare at each other, unblinking. Eventually, I yield to his gaze, feeling duped, coaxed, or whatever term describes being taken for a fool.

"Okay."

"Princess of Air, what can I do for you?"

"Can you come to Brasston Street? It's the Shadow Valley suburb. There are giant weeping tree residences on the west side of it. It's the highest of them."

"Sure. What are you doing out there?"

"Visited my parents."

"All good?" He can't help checking the vibe as I hold my tongue from shuddering.

"All good, Deon."

"Sure? You tell me. I'll make whoever the scum is catch these hands of mine."

"Positive." I glance at my father, at the way he bites his lip as he smiles at me. "Everything's fine."

"Give me fifteen minutes. I need to unscrew a few kitchen pipes..."

"Okay..."