Chapter 45

FORTY-FIVE

BASH

The air was cool and crisp around us, yet I didn’t feel it. To me it was a warm spring day. The only indication I had that it was cool was that our breath fogged as we walked down the street. Night had fallen earlier now that winter had begun. The suburban street was lit by the lights coming from the line of homes. Sporadically, cars meandered down the street. We were close to dinner time for these humans. One house after another let the scents of their meals pour out into the street.

“Are you ready for this?” I looked down at Zita as she fidgeted next to me.

“No, but I gotta see my family. I mean, I wanna see them.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s just been ten years. I have no idea what I’m walkin’ into.”

“I understand. But you know they love you and they’ll be happy to see you.” We paused in front of a colonial-style house. It was two floors with a large front porch. The exterior was a light shade of gray with red shutters.

The other homes on the street weren’t that far away. It was the closest I’d ever been in contact with a suburban setting, and I found it all so peaceful and pleasant. Zita tipped her head back and looked up at the house. “I’ve dreamt of this moment for years.”

“Then let’s not stop now.” I motioned for her to go ahead of me, and she stepped on the walkway and slowly marched up the stairs to the front door.

“Kinda weird to ring my own doorbell.”

“Allow me.” I pressed the bell, and I could hear the little chime coming from inside.

“Vito! Get the door.” The word door sounded more like doe-uh than door.

A smile played on Zita’s face. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “That’s my mom.”

“I’m goin’. Hold on a minute.” I could hear the creaking of footsteps as he approached. “Who rings the doorbell at this hour anyways?”

“Dad.” Her breath hitched in her throat and tears filled her eyes.

“What do I care? Just get it. Will ya?” her mother called from somewhere deep in the house.

“I’m goin’. I’m goin’.” The door flew open and a shorter man with thick dark hair combed back from his face and dark-brown eyes stood before us. There was a screen door between us. “We don’t need to buy nothin’.”

He didn’t look at the two of us at first. Instead, he held a folded newspaper in his hand.

Zita cleared her throat. “Pop?”

His eyes snapped up and he shoved the screen door wide open. He squinted his eyes for a split-second. “Zita?”

Tears spilled over Zita’s cheeks, and she nodded at him. “It’s me, Pop.”

His arm shot out and he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and yanked her into his chest. He threw his arms around her and pulled her in so tight it looked like he was going to squeeze the life out of her. His face held a range of emotions from pain to relief to love. He pulled back and looked down at her.

“Where the hell have you been?” He pulled her inside. “You’ve got ya mother worried sick about ya’.”

“Pop, I?—”

“—Who’s at the door Vito?” his mother called from the back of the house.

Now that I was inside, I could see the layout clearly. A small living room was just off the entryway with a TV and two worn couches, and when I looked through the doorway from the living room into the house, I saw a small dining room with an old wooden dining room table and chairs. Plates were set around the table along with silverware as though they were just getting ready for dinner.

Vito rubbed his eyes and called back to her. “Ya daughter is at the door.”

“Why are they ringing the bell? Tell Liona she better finish setting my table or she’s not eatin’, and I swear Sienna better have brought the garlic I asked for from the store . . . ” She walked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a white kitchen cloth.

“Eleanor,.” Vito cut her off. “It’s Zita. She’s home.”

Eleanor was a tiny fae with light-blonde hair and silvery eyes. She looked to be nearly the same age as Zita. Immortality had its ways of preserving us. But when she saw her daughter, she dropped the towel on the floor and ran toward Zita. “Zita! My Zita.”

She wrapped her up in a huge and squeezed her, rocking back and forth. Tears streamed down both their faces as they held each other and cried. I’d never had a family like this, but I was getting closer to it every day with Collins and our friends. I smiled watching her parents hold her for long moments.

Her mother pulled back and swatted at her arm. “Where the hell have you been? No calls, no letters! I’ve been looking every day.”

“That’s what I said.” Vito motioned to me. “And then she showed up here with this blue-haired bastard. Hey, you been with my daughter this whole time? Who are you anyways?”

Her mother’s eyes widened, and she lowered her head in a small bow. “Prince Bastien.”

“Prince? You ran off with a prince and didn’t tell no one? Your Nonna has been worried sick.”

Zita swiped at her eyes. “No, Pop, it’s not like that.” She turned to me. “Help me out here.”

“Why don’t we all sit down.” I motioned to the table.

“Yeah, why don’t we.” Vito motioned to him and then me. “And you can explain to me why my daughter’s been missing for ten years and now you show up here like it’s nothin’. Matter of fact, why don’t you come out back with me and we can discuss this one on one.”

“Vito, don’t,” Zita’s mother warned him.

“Pop,” Zita tried to stop him.

“No, Eleanor.” He glared at me and held his hand out to her, stopping her from talking. “You don’t just go and take a daughter from her family, pal.”

Two faces popped out from around the corner and looked at all of us standing there. They hurried out of the kitchen and my eyes widened. This was such a human family, with a mother and father and now two little old grandparents. An older man with gray hair and dark-brown eyes was the first to march into the room.

“Grandpa!” Zita wrapped him up in a hug, then turned to the older woman. “Nonna!”

“Carlo, talk some sense into your son.” Eleanor motioned to me. “He’s a prince of the fae.”

Carlo crossed his arms over his chest. “Depends what he’s got to say.”

Zita sighed. “Please, let’s all just sit down.”

“Okay.” Vito pointed at her. “But there better be a damn good explanation for my baby to go missin’ for ten years.”

“Hold your horse, Vito. We’ll hear what he’s got to say.” Carlo took the seat across from me and Vito dropped down beside him. Nonna ran back to the kitchen and emerged a few minutes later with a big bowl of something that smelled amazing.

Carlo waved his hand to the bowl. “ Mangia qualcosa , you’re skin and bones.”

Nonna sat beside Zita and she held a spoon full of food to her mouth. Zita took a bite and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She pressed her hand over her mouth. “Delicious, Nonna.”

We all moved around the table and took seats. I leaned back in the chair and smirked at the fierce show of love they all had for her.

Vito turned back toward me. “You were saying?”

“Zita was tricked and kidnapped by Queen Tephine, my mother, then taken to Third Realm.” My words fell like a bomb in the room.

Eleanor sucked in a sharp breath. “You’ve been in Third Realm this whole time?”

Zita nodded. “Tephine told me I was being deported for violence.”

Her Nonna shoved another spoon full of food at her while Eleanor shook her head. “Violence? You? That’s not your way.”

Vito sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Where is this Tephine now and how do we get to her?”

Carlo nodded. “We have a skill set to deal with people like that.”

Vito shook his head. “Violence? What kind of violence could you have possibly done?”

“Remember what you told me to do if a guy ever got handsy?” Zita took another bite of food.

“Yea punch him in the throat.” The word throat sounded more like trote .

Zita shrugged. “So I did.”

“You put your weight behind it?” Carlo curled his hand into a fist. “Like we taught you?”

“It was enough to get my mother’s attention.” I motioned to the two men across from me. “You taught her well. She was smart enough to survive my mother and Third Realm. You should be proud.”

“So, let me get this straight.” Vito spoke with his hands with every word. “Your mother took my baby girl for throat-punching a guy who got too handsy with her?”

“Precisely, but she only kidnapped Zita to punish the man who touched her. It’s complicated. Her act of violence really wasn’t violence. Plus, my father deserved it.”

“Your father?” Carlo’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“The man she punched was my father.” Or at least I thought he was.

“We’re gonna need the shovels.” Vito began to rise to his feet. “No offense, but you better say your goodbyes now.”

“They’re dead now. I’ve already handled the shovels part.” The words felt good to say out loud. “And I’ve just come to make sure Zita was reunited with her family.”

Vito dropped back down into his seat. “I can appreciate a man who handles his own business.”

I gave him a smile and rose to my feet. “And now that she’s home, I’m happy to leave her here in your capable hands.”

Vito rose to his feet and offered me his hand. “Thank you for bringing my baby girl home.”

I shook his hand. “A pleasure.”

Before I could interrupt any further, I turned and headed for the door. I hadn’t felt this light in a long time, and it felt good to see a family reunited that never should’ve been parted. As I walked out the front door, two other women walked in. One had black hair and silvery eyes and the other had blonde hair and brown eyes. They looked so like Zita it was hard not to tell they were sisters. They froze and stared up at me as I passed but they said nothing.

As soon as the door shut behind me one yelled, “Ma, who was th—OH MY GOD, ZITA! You’re home.”

“ZITA!” the other screeched.

A smile spread across my face, and I turned and walked down the street, leaving them to their family and their peace.