Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Bree carried a large bag, which included some dog food, crackers, candy, and a bag of chips. "I thought I'd bring along extra snacks."

"Can't ever have too much food," I said, taking the bag and setting it on the coffee table. My thoughts were still on the journal, and I couldn't help but wonder what my father had been talking about. Secret room? Where? And what had he been fighting off, that he knew my mother wouldn't have been able to withstand? As for the clothes…had he really enchanted my clothes for protection? I'd only read the first page, yet it opened up so many questions.

"You look lost in thought," Bree said.

"I am. I'll explain later, though—don't mind me." I wanted to read more before I addressed what I had found in the diary. For all I know, he could have resolved whatever issue it was in the four months leading up to his death. I did know that I wasn't going to be able to focus on movies at all, not with what I'd read. But Bree needed the distraction, and so I decided that whatever had happened with my father, it had happened almost thirty years ago and it could wait one more day. I set the journal aside.

"What movies shall we watch? You mentioned Marilyn Monroe?" Bree asked.

"Yeah, though I'm open. Your choice."

She grinned. "I hoped you'd say that. Since you have WatchParty, I took a look at what's offered." Picking up the remote, Bree turned on the television and flipped over to the WatchParty app. "I found this—we can't get much more retro than old monster movies!"

I glanced at the lineup. I'd never heard of a number of them, but they all looked cheesy-good. Robot Monster , Day of the Triffids , the original War of the Worlds —the latter of which I'd seen, and which had been surprisingly good. I recognized the names of several others, but I'd never seen them.

"Let's watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers ," I said, choosing one at random. "It came out in 1958, sixty-six years ago. But first, let me see how dinner's coming."

I headed to the kitchen. "Bree's here. When's—oh, that smells good ."

The spaghetti and meatballs were ready, as was the garlic bread. Grams had skipped making a salad, which surprised me.

"We're eating in front of the TV. You're welcome to join us," I said.

"Thank you, but I'm not going to interrupt you two. I'll eat in the kitchen while I read the news, then I'll clean up and go for an early bedtime. At my age, extra sleep sometimes is the perfect ticket. And I have a full day tomorrow."

Bree joined us, her eyes lighting up at the food. "That smells incredible."

‘Enjoy, girls." Grams handed us plates and we filled them high with the pasta and bread. In carb heaven, I picked up my silverware and headed for the living room. Bree followed suit. We opened our cans of sugar-free ginger ale and snuggled on the sofa together, plates on TV trays, ready to spend the evening lost in another world.

We were halfway through the movie when I got a text from Kyle. hey, how are you doing? are you feeling any better than this morning?

I showed Bree the text. "What does he expect me to say?"

"You sound angry," she said, stroking Silver's back. Gem was curled up beside me, Silver against Bree.

"I guess I am. I understand why I can't talk to Faron about our relationship, but Kyle doesn't seem to understand how upset I am. I wish he'd acknowledge how much this hurts me. That's all," I said, debating how to answer. "What should I say?"

"What do you want to say?"

"I want to say I'm upset and that I'm trying not to think about it. So stop texting me to find out how I feel." Impatiently, I shrugged. "I guess I can tell him the truth. I'll try to be polite. I know he doesn't mean to sound uncaring."

Bree paused the movie. "Go on, tell him how you feel. You don't have to be mean about it, but you definitely should clear the air and be honest about how this affects you."

"All right." I sighed, then texted: i'm upset at the situation. this hurts, maybe more than you realize. i'm trying to keep my mind off of it right now, so maybe we can talk later? take care of faron.

Relieved that he didn't text back, I finished my plate of spaghetti and reached for the chips. "I don't feel like bread, but man, I could eat the whole bag of these."

"Chips always make it better," Bree said, finishing her spaghetti, too. "Do you want dessert now, or later?"

"Let's wait. I'm into salty right now." I knew my cravings were emotional and I didn't give a fuck right now. If potato chips helped me cope with my emotions, then bring on the bag. I didn't feel like working through the pain.

My phone jangled again and I sighed, glancing at the text. "Stop texting me, dude."

i'm sorry. i wish i could say something to make it better. the minute he remembers you—the way you remember him—i'll let you know. i promise. but we have to trust the doctors. his health comes first.

i know that but that doesn't make it hurt any less. tell faron i said hello. Then I added, wait— don't tell him. he seems to think you and i are involved and i don't want to misrepresent our friendship to him by letting him think we text a lot.

Again, there was a lull, then, talk to you later.

I tossed my phone on the sofa beside me. "I think I hurt Kyle's feelings, but he'll just have to deal with that for now. Let's get back to the movie."

We watched the rest of The Invasion of the Body Snatchers , finishing off the chips. Then we moved on to The Day the Earth Stood Still , along with ice cream and the animal crackers. By that time, it was nearing ten.

"You want to watch another movie? I'm not all that tired," I said.

"Me either. What do you want to see?" She flipped back to the menu and we scrolled through the movies.

"What about Shifter Island ?"

The Shifter Island TV show started with twenty shifters on an island. The Castaways divided into tribes, and ran a variety of obstacle courses and challenges. Each week, the one with the fewest number of collective points became one of the Sacrifices, and left the challenge. At the end of a grueling finale that was worth up to half the points you could earn all season, the shifter with the highest number of points won the grand prize.

"A new season just dropped. Sounds good." Bree settled back, focused on the screen.

I watched, but my mind was now split in two directions: one part of me thinking about my father's journal, and the other half lingering on the situation with Faron. I was fixated far more on the contents of my mind than on the contestants in the game.

Morning came, and I woke early, thinking of my father's diary. Bree was still sleeping on the sofa when I tiptoed out to the kitchen, where Grams was making breakfast. I fixed myself a latte while she dished up an omelet and sausage links for me. As I carried it to the table, Grams plated her own breakfast and joined me. We kept our voices low, so as not to wake Bree.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" Grams asked.

I nodded. "I always have fun with Bree. But I read the first entry in my father's journal. Grams, it opened up so many questions." I picked at my food.

"Morning," Fancypants said, flying into the kitchen. He flew over to sniff at the food. "May I have cat food for breakfast?" The dragonette loved cat food. It was his favorite, as far as I could tell. I kept it for special treats, in case we needed to curb some bad behavior that might creep in. I had never dealt before with dragonettes, though May had, and I wasn't sure what to expect as we went along.

Fancypants landed on my shoulder and rubbed his head against my cheek. "Morning. Are you okay? I can feel you're upset. What's wrong?"

Our bond was growing. One thing people didn't understand was that being bonded to a dragonette or a familiar didn't mean you formed an immediate connection. No, we could feel the bond, but it took time to grow. While we were linked, and being separated by death would be a shock to the system, the deep, lifelong connection had to evolve. Lately, I had noticed that I could feel Fancypants's emotions easier, yet another sign of our growing bond.

"I'm all right. It's true, several things have upset me lately, but I'll be okay. Thanks, though. You're the best dragonette I've ever met."

"I'm the only dragonette you've ever met," Fancypants said with a laugh.

"That means you're the best ." I snickered, rubbing him on his head, between his eyes. He loved that, and he giggled, squirming. "I'll be okay, little one. Don't worry about me."

Fancypants rubbed against my hand, his eyes luminous. "As you wish, dear friend."

"So, what are your plans for today?" Grams asked.

"I'm getting tired of sitting around. Since my shop was destroyed, thanks to Gloria, I've been trying to figure out what I want to do next. I can live for a while on the proceeds of my father's insurance policy, but I'd rather invest it and find a passion to pursue. I suppose after I learn more magic, maybe I'll know, but right now, I feel at loose ends."

"What about opening up a new shop?"

I shrugged. "I thought of it, but I'm not certain. But I think I'll start taking on clients again, though. I built up a tidy clientele during the time the shop was open. I'm going to send out a newsletter after Thanksgiving, opening up my business again but with the focus on tarot readings. That way I can make my own hours and I won't be tied to a regular schedule." I needed to have more business cards made, and I also needed to rebuild, at least a two-room shop with a bathroom. I didn't want strangers in my house.

"That sounds like a good idea." She paused. "I talked to Diedre the other day. I asked her if she might want to move over here with me."

"Oh?" That was news. My aunt Diedre—technically she was my father's half sister, and a half succubus—was agoraphobic. She lived with Grams in Stromness. While she was high functioning, she had several mental and emotional issues due to her heritage. "What did she say?"

"She said no. She misses me, but she's not comfortable leaving home. I told her that was fine, and that I'd make a trip to visit her next summer. I thought you might want to come along." Grams looked at me expectantly. "It would give you a chance to see where your father—and mother—lived, and you'd be able to meet other relatives who are still over there."

"I'd love to go with you." I had never been out of the US, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. "How is she, otherwise?"

"She's doing fine. You know that my friend Muriel watches out for her, and she keeps me informed. Diedre is happy puttering in the gardens during the day, or she'll sketch, or write poetry or read. She's incredibly talented. One day I wouldn't be surprised to find her publishing a book or selling her paintings. She lives the quiet life of what would have been considered a maiden aunt back in the day, and she's content with it." Grams paused, listening. Bree was stirring in the living room. "I'll start some breakfast for Bree."

The front door opened and closed, and I knew that Bree was checking on Oscar and Atlas. I rinsed my dishes, then leaned against the counter. "What's on the docket today?"

"I'm going to go talk to Randy about the house. Do you want to come with me so you can see it?" Grams finished Bree's omelet and set it on the table, along with sausage links.

"I'd love to. I want to check out this house of yours." I pretend-pouted. "I wish you wouldn't move."

"You'll be glad for it once you're settled with Bran…and…or Faron." She paused. "You didn't tell me how yesterday went. I get the feeling it wasn't what you were expecting."

"That's because it wasn't," I said, sighing.

Bree entered the kitchen. "Do I smell—ooo, is that mine?" She made a beeline for the plate.

"Yours and yours alone," Grams said. "Now, what happened?"

I told Grams about what had happened with Faron. "He doesn't remember anything."

"There are magical ways to bring that information to the surface, but it might damage him given the injuries he incurred," Grams said. "I'm sorry, but it looks like you'll have to wait."

Downhearted, I nodded. "I've resigned myself to that. Is it wrong that I'm hoping that Bran isn't gleefully happy over this?"

"Wrong? No, but a little selfish? Yes. He's not the one who originally wanted to be in a thruple." Bree gave me a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, but that's how I see it. He only agreed because you wanted this. I mean, he's obviously okay with it, because otherwise he would have said no, but…I can see why he might feel like things are working out for the best."

I glanced over at Grams, but she didn't say a word. "Okay, let's have it. How do you feel about this?"

"You know my choice for you has been Bran since the day I met him. But you have to be happy as well. Not everybody is slated for monogamy. I know a number of polyamorous couples who are happy. But make certain Bran is happy, not just tolerating, the choice. If he's not content, that resentment will grow. If he's just telling you what you want to hear, you need to cut him free so he can find long-term happiness." She continued cleaning the counter.

I sat down, wondering if they were right. Was Bran okay with this only because he thought I wanted it? In my heart, I believed he meant what he said, but now, a thread of doubt crept in. "I'll ask him to be honest. This all may be moot, if Faron never remembers us, but in case it's not… As for Faron, I have no clue what he'll think. I may never know."

Bree pushed her plate back. "We're not ganging up on you, but when hearts are involved, you have to be certain. You need to know for the long run. For everybody's happiness." She hesitated, then added, "I've never met someone I wanted to marry, or even settle down with. But if I do, I want to ensure their happiness as much as I can."

What they said made sense, and I knew all this, though I hadn't wanted to face it. "I know I sound indecisive. The world pairs off, but when I look back at Rian, I think that we wouldn't have been happy. Not in the long run."

"That's possible, my dear," Grams said. She suddenly stopped, then said, "You don't blame yourself for his death anymore, do you?"

I slowly turned to face her, a storm of emotions churning in my heart. "Not exactly, but what if he was taken away because I didn't recognize that we weren't meant for each other? What if fate decided that we weren't meant to be together and I missed all the signs, so…"

"No," Grams said. "Life doesn't work like that. The gods don't punish people because they don't see everything coming. Sometimes, life just happens. Sometimes, life sends you crap because you're the closest target. Contrary to what the toxic positivity movement claims, the universe isn't clockwork, and just because we want something doesn't mean we're going to get it. Conversely, we don't necessarily cause trauma to happen if we aren't cheerful all the time."

I sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "You're right. For the most part, I've moved on from his death. But sometimes, I still feel that maybe if I hadn't been tipsy, I would have felt there was danger nearby…or if I would have listened to myself more, I would have suggested we take a taxi home."

"It's easier to blame ourselves than to accept that sometimes there's no control. That for some events, we have no say over what happens." Grams sat down beside me. "You didn't cause his death, you didn't miss any signs. Neither did Rian. The two of you were in the wrong place at the wrong time." She paused. "Not to change the subject, but the Butcher's still out there, you know. And while May helped you disconnect from him, I think it would be a good idea to beef up your wards on a regular basis."

"I wish I'd done that, given the mess with Evan," Bree said. She finished her breakfast. "All right, I'm ready for the day. I'll gather the dogs and head out. I have an appointment at eleven to talk about a winter camping trip in the Quinault forest."

"Make sure they're seasoned hikers," I said. "You don't want a repeat of that stupid bunch of idiots who tried to sue you last month."

"They backed off the moment my lawyer confronted them. I'm going to take this group on a day hike first, a short one. It will give me a good idea of their capabilities. And if they can't handle it, we won't be planning the winter trip." She glanced at her phone. "Okay, I need to run."

As I gave her a hug, she whispered, "Seriously, talk to Bran. It will ease your mind and his."

"I know," I said. "I will."

I walked her out to her car and glanced at the sky. It was cold and crisp, with partial cloud cover. The tree boughs were barren. We weren't due for snow, not yet, but the wind felt restless, and beyond it, I could sense winter waiting in the wings.