Chapter 29

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Despite my resolve to harden myself and be strong, I can't help the nervousness causing my hands to shake as we disembark the plane. I think a big part of me never believed this moment would happen. And if I'm honest, I have to admit that a big part of my personality likes to put its head in the sand and avoid difficult situations. My entire life, I've had somebody else there to take care of things for me. My parents protected me. Anthony gave me emotional support. Conrad had always been ready to beat up the bullies. I can't say it's my most flattering quality or that I'm proud of the cowardice.

I should have emotionally prepared myself better. Questions I can't answer whirl around my thoughts. I've never even seen a picture of my birth mother. Does she look like me? Will she know me? What is she like? Will I feel like I belong with her? Will there be an instant connection?

What if she rejects me?

What if I don't like her?

What if she is like Conrad's mom, a druggy prostitute looking for a cash cow to pay her rent in a sketchy vampire-controlled neighborhood?

What if this is a trap?

I wish I had someone to talk to about this. I want to call Paul. I want to hear his calm voice as he tries to fix the world around him. I want him to fix me.

I just want him.

But I'm alone. I don't think I can do this.

The blend of hope and fear creates a deep anxiety that makes it hard to breathe. My heart thumps so heavily that I feel like it's trying to choke me. I don't know what I should feel at this moment. Should I be grateful that she came to the airport to get me or angry that she abandoned me, to begin with? I'm curious and terrified.

This is one emotional rollercoaster I don't want to be on—not now, not with everything else exploding around me.

I touch the amulet. Why didn't my grandfather tell me about her? He must have had a reason.

I should run. My self-defense instructor told me the best course of action for a human who feels danger is to run away and hide. There are plenty of places for me to hole up. I pass seating for people waiting for a flight, and there is a restroom. No one will think anything of me hanging around. There was that movie about that guy who lived in an airport. How hard could that be?

Somehow, I manage to walk with the flow of pedestrian traffic toward the airport's exit. People are talking and laughing, happy to be on a journey. A few annoyed businessmen drag their roller bags behind them as they weave the crowds like they're on a mission. One nearly knocks into me with his suitcase and doesn't stop to apologize. Overhead announcements blare, but I don't hear the words.

The sense of safety I feel at being inside the secured area evaporates as I pass the checkpoint to leave. My movements are stiff, and I can't lift my arms. All I can do is concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other while my head screams at me to run in the opposite direction.

I take the escalator down to where she said we'd meet. I see people holding signs, but none of them say Tamara. As I travel downward, I search the crowd for a woman who looks like she might be waiting. No one sticks out in the crowd. I then look for danger in case this is a trap.

I stand in the terminal, slowly turning in circles to look around. Of all the scenarios that played out in my head, I never considered that she would flake and not come. I'm unable to describe the disappointment I feel at the idea that she has abandoned me for the second time in my life.

Making my way around a new city isn't exactly difficult. I have her address, and I can get a taxi. It might be better if I arrived at her place to check things out before meeting her.

I walk outside and look at my phone. It must have dinged, but I'd been too anxious on my walk from the plane to hear it. Lorelai wants to know if I'm here yet. In all my nervousness, I forgot to tell her I landed.

The California air feels warm against my skin, even in the shade. I look at the line of cars waiting to pick people up. My jacket looks a little out of place, but I can't remove it. The blood stains on my back might be problematic.

Texting back, I write, "Outside the terminal now."

"Driving to get in line. Blue car," comes the answer.

She didn't forget me. I hate the surge of excitement I feel at the knowledge. It's like I'm setting myself up for heartache, but I can't help it.

I walk along the line of cars, eagerly peering into every blue vehicle's window. Anticipation mounts, fueled by uncertainty. I feel the adrenaline surging through my veins. Each step feels like it takes an eternity.

Then I see light reflecting off a crystal hanging from a rearview mirror. I stop walking. My attention goes to the driver. It's her. I know it as sure as I know the shape of my own shadow.

She has my hair.

What an odd thought. I have no clue why that's my first impression.

Seconds later, Lorelai leans forward, and her eyes lock with mine. She lifts her hand from the wheel in a small wave. I manage to lift my fingers in return. It's a small gesture, but I'm nervous. I draw my arms around my waist as I move to meet her vehicle.

Lorelai parks the car and gets out. The world feels like it's in slow motion. The breeze isn't hard, and still, she looks windblown. I don't know what I expect, but this woman is not it.

If Astrid reflected refined wealth and perfection, Lorelai is her polar opposite. Her hair is a tangle of wild curls, held back by the sunglasses pushed on top of her bright scarf headband. She doesn't wear makeup, and her layered Bohemian dress appears homemade. Eclectic costume jewelry boldly adorns her ears and wrists, but on her neck is a thin chain with a medallion.

One thing both women have in common is that they neglected to teach me about motherhood. I think of Diana and how she is better off without me. I lack the skills to give a child what she needs, not for any meaningful amount of time. People talk about an unbreakable bond between mother and child. I don't feel it when I look at Lorelai. She's a stranger. And I never felt it with Astrid.

When she starts to come around the car, one of the airport security guards appears next to me. "Hey! No parking. Stay in your vehicle. Pick up lane only."

"Okay, okay, I got it." Lorelai holds up her hands like she's being robbed. She nods at the car and tells me, "Get in. I live about a half hour from here."

I glance back at the security guard. He's already moved on from the encounter to continue patrolling the line of cars.

She leans over the passenger seat to push open my door from inside. The smell of patchouli oil wafts from within. Plastic bins and art canvases fill the back seat. As I slide into the car, I feel like an intruder.

"Let me look at you, Tamara."

When I look over, her hands are already outstretched to cup my face. She presses her palms to my cheeks. They're clammy, as if she'd been holding them in fists. Her gaze keeps steady on mine as if she's trying to read my thoughts. I break eye contact first. A faded butterfly tattoo is on the center of her chest.

"I've thought about this moment for so?—"

A knock on the window interrupts her, and she lets go of me as I spin around in fright. The security guard is motioning for us to drive.

Lorelai lifts her hands again and nods.

"Just trying to have a moment with my daughter. The machine cogs are moving, officer." She grabs the wheel and puts the car into drive. "Reptilians are such sticklers for the rules. You must be unflinching with them. They respond well to authoritative attitudes."

Daughter. The word strikes me in the chest. She said it easily without stumbling or awkwardness, as if it were the simple truth.

I watch the guard as we pass. He looks human. "How do you know he's reptilian?"

"He's got the aura," she answers.

"Are you…?"

"Supernatural?" Lorelai chuckles. "No. I'm super enlightened. I've had lots of practice and a little help. I'm one hundred percent human. You get that from me."

She says it with such ease. I'm not sure what to make of this. I can't stop staring at her, studying her, and, yes, judging her. This moment is hard for me, and she's so…breezy.

"You're thinking I'm a bit much," she concludes.

"I'm trying to picture you with my father." It's an honest answer. I can't see it. She's no Astrid.

"Ah," she sighs, and her lips tighten. "That Davis was a charmer."

I wait for her to expand. She doesn't.

That's it? A charmer? That's my origin story? I'm in existence because my dad was charming?

Is it bad etiquette to demand more? Astrid would. I'm not Astrid. I want Lorelai to like me. I also want her to show remorse for giving me up and staying out of my life. I promise myself not to start a fight. She has the answers I desperately need about where I come from.

"Can you see all kinds of supernatural?" I ask.

"Oh, sure." She nods. The car picks up speed as she navigates traffic a little too fast. Glancing at the cars as we pass, she says, "Human. Human. Shifter. Human. Human. Councilman with not his wife. Human."

Lorelai pulls her sunglasses down as bright light pours into the front seat. It's impossible to tell if she's being truthful or trying to impress me.

I know I have all these questions, but I can't think of what to say as we drive in silence. Finally, I manage, "Thank you for coming to get me."

She smiles. "Thank you for texting to warn me."

We should discuss that, but it feels like a lot to dive into Conrad's betrayal and my family's deaths.

One of her hands drops to her lap. "This must be strange for you. I'll admit, you took my breath away when you finally called. I knew someday you would find your way back to me."

"You could have called me." Crap. My tone is harsh. I promised myself I wouldn't start an argument with her. What if she drops me off and leaves for another twenty-eight years?

"No. I couldn't have." She pulls in a long breath and lets it out slowly. I wonder if her breezy attitude is a shield protecting her from the ugliness life throws at us. "I didn't want to talk about this while we were driving. I was going to offer you tea, and… Well, I suppose there is no good way to delve into things. No number of practiced speeches is going to make this easier. Shall we rip the bandage?"

I nod. "Please."

"I promise you complete honesty. I refuse to live anything but an authentic life. I'm not surprised your father never told you about me. He was never good with hard emotions. I mean, I don't have to tell you that he avoided the messiness of life. Oh, but he knew how to have fun, and we did."

"He was married," I remind her.

"Sure, but I guess marriages are different when you're that rich and supernatural and have been together for hundreds of years. You know, I met Astrid. She knew about me and the others. I don't think she minded." Lorelai glances at me. "You're an adult. I can't be telling you anything you don't know. You're old enough to have figured out all this by now."

Knowing and hearing it said out loud, so matter of fact, are two different things.

"How did you meet?"

"The same way most cliched people meet in New York, at a bar. I was drunk. He was sexy and funny. That was that. He smiled at me through the crowd, and I was totally his. For a while, I wondered if he had cast some kind of spell over me, but I don't think that was it. I was young and partying, and he was Davis. He introduced me to the world of magic. I introduced him to body shots and the artist's lifestyle. It was a beautiful few months we shared."

"And then you got pregnant," I prompt.

"And then I got pregnant," she confirms.

"And you gave me to Astrid." So much for not being confrontational. I can't help it.

Our speed increases as she blows past the speed limit. I worry about being pulled over as she weaves through traffic.

"Not at first. I tried to keep you. Davis gave me child support, but he couldn't give me time. He had a family and responsibilities. Romances like ours are never meant to last. We drifted apart when I was pregnant. What we had wasn't love. It was a good time." She reaches over to stroke my arm. "But he loved you. He was there right after you were born."

"Was it too hard being a single mom? Is that why you gave me to him?" I feel myself trying to understand and making excuses. I think of Diana. She's a sweet girl, but I see how much responsibility Paul has on his shoulders. I wonder if I'd ever have enough patience to be a parent. Davis and Astrid handed their children off to staff and nannies. And it sounds like Lorelai might have been too overwhelmed.

"I promised you honesty. If you don't hear anything else, hear this. I have loved you since the moment you were born. I looked at that face, my perfect, beautiful little baby's face, and I knew I would never care for anything as much as I cared for you. Time has not changed that." She again touches me, letting her hand linger on my forearm to squeeze it and not let go.

I hesitate before resting my hand on top of hers. I don't move as I stare at the contact. So many emotions are flooding me that, in a way, I feel numb. How different my life would have been with her—to have a mother who loved me and thought me perfect the way I came into this world.

"Then why?" If she loved me so much, why did she disappear?

"Part of love is sacrifice. I couldn't protect you. I could give you love and a home, but I couldn't shield you from the supernatural bloodline you came from. As a human and a baby, you couldn't protect yourself. Word about your birth got out. That's when the monsters came. Whoever had you had a link to manipulating your father and the Devine empire. We were chased by werewolves in the park. Vampires outright offered me a million dollars for you. When I didn't take it, they threatened me. Your father sent bodyguards, but there was only so much they could protect us from. Necromancers would send ghosts at all hours of the night to inspect you and try to influence you."

I think of Leviathan and his eyeball ring. Those creepy bastards are still magically trying to inspect me.

"I tried to stop it," Lorelai insists. "I did everything I could imagine. I put mystical objects around your crib. I poured salt and circles around wherever you were. And then the goblins came. I used to sleep in a rocking chair by your bed because I didn't want you to ever be alone. One night, I awoke to the sound of you gasping for breath. Goblins had tied me to a chair and magically gagged my mouth while I slept, and with the bodyguards right outside in the living room, none the wiser."

Her hand trembles beneath mine, and I give it a small pat. I need her to keep talking.

"And they were stealing your breath. Davis said the necromancer sent them because…" Lorelai pulls away. She swipes her fingers beneath her glasses and sniffs back tears.

"Because necromancers don't control the living. They control the dead," I say for her.

She nods. "Yes."

"How am I not dead?"

"You had this butterfly mobile I made you over your crib. You loved it." She touches the butterfly on her chest. "That's what I used to call you. My little butterfly. I got this tattoo to keep you close to my heart after you were gone."

"That doesn't say how I'm not dead. What stopped the goblins?"

"One of the goblins must have bumped the switch. The butterflies began to fly in circles, and it frightened them away. When the goblin magic slipped, I was able to scream. I yelled for the guards. They untied me and reported back to your father. He arrived with Astrid, and we agreed that it was best—safest—for you to go live with them as Astrid's daughter."

She rushes over that part of the story like she's trying to force it out. I watch her continue to swipe at her eyes under the glasses. There it is. The remorse I hoped for. And now I feel like an asshole for wishing to see it.

The car goes faster and weaves. I grip the door for support. "Should we slow down?"

"They don't pull people over here. Too much traffic," she dismisses. Then, nodding as we pass a sports car, she says, "Wood sprite in the passenger seat. Those are rare sightings."

I glance at the pretty woman but quickly dismiss the sprite. She looks human to me.

"As I was saying, they told everyone I was a surrogate. I never thought anybody would believe that because of how much I felt connected to you. It was inconceivable to me that everyone couldn't feel our bond. The second you were born, I told everyone you were mine. I underestimated the supernatural." She scrunches up her face in thought. "It's such a particular hierarchy system, the supernaturals. No one questioned that a woman like Astrid would not want to ruin her figure or be slowed down by pregnancy or breastfeeding. They all accepted it. I think I was even blamed for your mortality. Like they somehow picked the wrong carrier for their baby. Your father gave me enough money to move as far away as I could get, which was California, and I opened a small gallery. I knew if I were in the same city as you, I wouldn't be able to stay away."

I know the Devine dynamic well enough to understand that they would have seen my connection to Lorelai as a problem. If she were my mother, then her ties to the family would pose a threat. It's not like they could have moved Davis's mistress into their house for protection. And Astrid wouldn't want his mistress hiding in plain sight in her home. Regardless of what Lorelai thinks, a big part of me believes Astrid was affected by my father's affairs. How could she not be?

"Life is complicated." That's all I can think to say.

Lorelai nods in agreement. She puts her hand back on my arm. "What about you? Is there anyone special in your life?"

Yes.

Paul. Paul and Diana.

"No." I shake my head. I will protect them and keep them out of my mess until the day I die. "I'm all alone."

"You're never alone. You have me, for what that's worth to you. You're here now, and you finally know the truth."

"Did you have other kids?" I ask. "Are you married?"

"No. No kids. Marriage isn't really for me. I'm a serial dater. I guess you can say I have commitment issues after everything that happened."

I touch my necklace, pulling it from inside my shirt.

"Your grandpa, George." She lifts her hand toward my necklace but doesn't touch it. "I liked him. He was a good man."

"Yeah, he was. I miss him."

"We spent a long time trying to track that amulet down."

"You helped find this for me?"

"Arts and antiques tend to go together. I knew people, and since I'm not a Devine, I wasn't on the supernatural's radar." She smiles. "How much did he tell you?"

"You're not like the rest of the family, Tamara," he told me in the hospital. "You have our blood, but the magic didn't take root for some reason. But our blood, our lives, who our family is, all of that puts you in danger. Wear this. Always. And know that every time you look at it, you are loved."

Then, he materialized butterflies for me.

I've had a piece of her with me this whole time. He couldn't tell me the full truth, but he told me what he could the only way he knew how. I just didn't understand.

Lorelai takes the wheel in both hands and zooms toward an exit. She slams on the brakes, and I lurch toward the dashboard. I brace myself. My birth mother is a crazy ass driver.

She's waiting for me to answer.

"He said that once I put it on, it's mine. And then made up a story about a Pagan goddess and trolls."

"Those Norwegian trolls are hard negotiators." Lorelai dramatically shivers. "And their caves smell funky. I had to burn all my clothes."

I wrap my fingers around the stone.

"But it was worth every minute of those three months dining on cave bugs to know you are safe." The car comes to a stop sign, and she uses the moment to reach for my face. She brushes my hair back. "My sweet butterfly."

A horn honks, prompting her to drive. We go through an artistic community filled with colorful murals and small galleries. Even the people seem more vibrant. When I think of San Francisco, this is exactly what I imagine.

I touch my face where her hands lingered. I can't describe the depth of my feelings. I suppose some emotions don't have actual words.

My life is a mixed-up batch of puzzle pieces. The edges are put together, and I know what the picture should look like, but it will never be complete because I haven't been given all the pieces.

I wish my grandfather would have spoken plainly so I could have thanked him for all those things he did without my knowledge.

"The amulet works? It keeps you safe?"

"It keeps me alive." I remember the blood staining my back. Safe might be too strong of a word, but I don't want to complain. "I didn't think it worked at first, but then I survived the fire that broke out on my birthday when I shouldn't have."

I'm unsure why I keep talking, but the words tumble out. Maybe it's because she listens, and I've felt so alone. I tell her about the fires and the vampire attacks. I talk about the blue light reflecting off Elizabeth's face when she tried to bite me. I even mention Walter stealing my cash. The amulet didn't protect me from being drugged, but then it only seems to work when death is on the line. I'm not sure if that means I'm immortal. Honestly, I can't think about that now.

The only thing I don't mention is Paul and Diana. That memory is too precious to share, and I must keep them safe. Those moments are mine. They belong only to me.

I finish with the realization that my adoptive brother wants me dead and sent vampires to kill me when the fires failed. The betrayal chokes my voice.

"That is why I left that cryptic message," I say. "He knew I was planning on coming here to see you. I don't know what he'll do or who he'll send. I'm sorry for bringing you into this Devine family mess. I wanted to meet you. When I hired Mr. Wick to find you, I didn't know where life would lead me."

"It's right you came." She gives a firm nod to punctuate her point.

We go up a hill past restored Victorian homes, only to pull into the driveway of a brightly painted three-story house. The deep blue exterior is accented with gold trim. Large bay windows extend along the first two stories. Intricate woodwork adorns everything from the roofline to the porch. With the angle of the hill that we're on, the stairs leading to the porch are steep. At the top, I see a stained-glass butterfly in the front door.

"Welcome to my painted lady." Lorelai parks the car near a detached garage.

"Do you think it would be better to stay somewhere else? Off the grid?" I ask.

"No, everything we need is here. I've worked hard to protect this house."

"Aren't you worried that it might explode when we go inside?" After all I told her, she should be.

"This house has been blessed by more protection spells than you could imagine," Lorelai answers. "Besides, you have the amulet. I'll just stand close to you in the circle of your protection when we go in."

It occurred to me that is exactly what happened when I was holding Diana. She also emerged unscathed from the deadly incidents.

I start to reach for the handle, but Lorelai doesn't readily get out of the car.

"Are we…?" I glance toward the home.

"George liked to say that the world is filled with butterflies and dragons," Lorelai whispers. "When we go in there, I'm going to need you to be a dragon."