Page 67 of A Sip of Sin

“Shhh.” Munro touched the back of his head, easing him to settle into sleep again. “Sleep, my love. This will all be over by the time you’re awake.”I hope.

A few crickets spoke up, only to go silent again as Munro took a step onto the property. With a ripple of heat, the air changed. The natural blue of the siding and roof flickered to piled stone and thick moss. Close-cut grass gave way to long stems that swayed with the heaviness of seeds at their tips.

What had seemed like a manicured lawn became a wilderness, as Munro forced his way through the illusion. Even if magic had been lost, faeries excelled at illusions, able to morph an ethereal face into a beautiful one and a wild landscape into one which was much less likely to be on the HOA’s radar.

“We’re in the right place,” said Munro, tucking a few loose strands behind Hollen’s ear. He didn’t stir this time, wrappeddeeply in a sleep that got closer to permanent with every heartbeat.

“Stop there.”

Munro looked to the source of the loud voice, grinding to a reluctant halt. A woman had stepped onto the porch, one hand on her hip and the other clutching a spatula. Her hair was graying, wisps clouding around her face from the humidity, but her eyes almost glowed. Whatever illusions she had on her body, they were so thick that Munro couldn’t see through them.

She glared, pointing the spatula at him threateningly. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.” The crickets grew louder, the brightness of the sun slipping behind the rooftop of the house. It cast a shadow over them, thick and haunting. The smell of tomatoes and garlic wafted from the house, some sauce speckled on the apron she wore.

“Candara.” Munro nodded his head in greeting. “I never thought I would have the pleasure of seeing you again.” He shifted Hollen against him, offering his hand.

She narrowed her eyes, her lips set firmly. “It’s Dara now, as you well know. I left my old self behind years ago.” She brandished the spatula, a dollop of sauce smacking onto the porch.

“Apologies.” Munro nodded. “I had forgotten.” Twenty or so years ago she had wandered into his teahouse, her back still singed and her psyche torn to bits. Between sips of cinnamon and nutmeg, she’d asked him to take it all away—every memory and scar. But he’d been unable to convince her mind to forget when it was built on so many layers of illusions.

“I haven’t.” She raised her chin. She seemed to catch sight of Hollen, taking a step back. “What are you doing with him? Is he?” She trailed off, lowering her spatula and taking a forward step onto the porch that was made of accumulated logs instead of the perfect wood it had seemed to be before.

“I didn’t drain him.” Munro thinned his lips. It was so rare nowadays for a vampire to drain someone, yet the rumors always spread. It was so much easier to just pluck a memory away. “He’s possessed.”

Dara let out a laugh, standing much too tall for a crooked old lady. “Now I know you’re lying.”

Munro took a step closer to the house. The long grasses extended toward him, grasping at his clothes with sandpaper fronds. Below, branches of ivy tried to catch his feet. He stomped on a flower, grinding it into the dirt. “The demon Gorgo latched onto his soul and is draining him as we speak. He’s close to death.”

Munro lowered his gaze. Hollen was so pale, a furrow between his eyes and his lips parted in sleep. His lashes didn’t flutter when Munro swept a thumb over his cheek or when he placed a kiss on his forehead.

“Never heard of a Gorgo before.” Dara’s glare intensified.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Munro nodded. “The last person with magic sealed him away centuries ago. I’m sure you’ve heard of the massacre and the fires that night. Even faeries aren’t so short-sighted that they completely forget the past.”

Dara stiffened as Munro grew closer. Hollen moved in his sleep, his head lolling back onto Munro’s arm and exposing him to the light. He let out a soft groan as a strip of sunlight strayed over his eyes.

Dara’s snapped her gaze to him in an instant, her spatula falling to the porch as a gasp left her lips. “Oh my God.”

The sound of a car roaring behind them drew Munro’s attention. He turned just as the vehicle hopped the curb, Adair shooting out of the passenger side before the car was even turned off. When Erie flung the door open, Munro could sense his rage.

“I told you to wait,” said Erie, his hackles raised and his sharp teeth on display. “For once in your life, why couldn’t you listen? Dara ismyfriend, not yours.”

Friend?Munro held back a sneer. Faeries had so little to offer to the world except their looks, and even that was an illusion. The span of friendship never extended between their two worlds.

“Grandma!”

Munro turned at Adair’s shout as he raced around the car, speeding past them and throwing his arms around the woman.

Adair was speaking rapidly, bouncing on his toes as Munro’s jaw went slack.

“I told Erie that I knew where I was, but he wouldn’t listen.” Adair hugged her tighter, a whoosh of air escaping Dara. “I get to see you a whole month early. How are you? You look great. Are you making lunch? Erie wouldn’t stop, no matter how much I complained. I had to pee in a ditch, Grandma—a ditch!”

Munro arched one eyebrow at Erie, who gave him an exhausted shrug, probably too tired to be surprised. The lines on his forehead were deeper, the whites of his eyes almost entirely pink in what had to have been exhaustion.

“What are you doing here, darling?” Dara asked softly, returning the hug with the same fierceness. “And what are you doing withthem?”

Adair leaned back, a laugh on his lips. “We’re looking for a faerie, according to Hollen. Can you believe they actually exist? If anyone else would have said it, I would have called their therapist or something.”

The silence was so thick Munro could have sliced it with a well-placed flap of his wings.

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