Page 46 of Rise of the Melody
“So,” Aunt Lorna began when I finished. “What happened last night? I saw that the MacCray boy brought you home.” She raised her eyebrow, and I could tell by her tone that she was unhappy, but also interested.
I cracked like a dam, despite knowing her worries. I spilled everything, all the juicy details, even the part about Teague wanting to kiss me. She was a rapt audience, going stiff as she learned about the fight, both of us stopping our chores.
“Letty,” she whispered. “I didn’t want this for you. It’s what I tried to avoid.” She sounded frustrated, and I knew I shouldn’t be telling her all of this but there was nobody else I could confide in who knew everything and still loved me.
“I’m sorry, Auntie.”
She pulled back and looked at me. “You can be a recluse like your mother, or you can be social and deal with….” She waved her hands. “All of this. Either path is not going to be easy, and I don’t know how to protect you from it.”
I nodded, my eyes burning as I went to refill the watering can. Her face was scrunched, and I couldn’t handle the look of pity and sadness on my behalf. It was like physical proof that my situation was bad.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her. And myself.
We worked quiet for a few minutes before I asked. “How old are you?”
Aunt Lorna’s hand flitted to her throat, a nervous gesture, and she chuckled. “I…wasn’t expecting to have this conversation yet, but here it is.”
Oh, wow. My heart gave a wonky thump. “Tell me.”
Her voice squeaked out like a question. “One hundred and fourteen last month?”
I rapidly blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. “Be for real!”
She gave a shrug. “I am.”
“Oh, my gosh! I thought you were thirty-something.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “It’s funny. In the mystical cultures, we value age over youth. The older, the better. So different from humans.”
That was true.
“So, you can’t wait to be an old nix like Ms. Barclay?”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You know of her?”
“I met her yesterday down at the marina.”
“Did she…say anything?”
“She said a lot,” I admitted. “She told me the story of my grandmother.”
Aunt Lorna made a sound and touched her throat again but said nothing.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “I was glad to meet her and learn something. I don’t want any more secrets, even if they’re painful. We’re kind of past that now, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “Okay. Yes.”
I chewed my bottom lip and faced the plants again. “What do you know about that night? When everyone went missing? Why were they all together again?”
She cleared her throat and turned to the plants on her side, fidgeting with the pots. “I don’t know much, unfortunately. I was babysitting you. There was a meeting of some of the fae-blooded on spring equinox. A celebration, but also a time to discuss mystic politics on the island. It was held at Wee Skye, the barrier island that houses the portal, just off the National Park side. Humans aren’t allowed there. It’s been sanctioned off-limits protected lands for sea bird nesting. Or maybe it’s puffins. Anyhow.” She shook her head and turned to me. “I don’t know what happened. Ten fae-blooded went to the island that night and only two returned.”
“Bryant and Stevens,” I whispered.
She nodded. “And Stevens swears he saw your mother singing from the boat. Bryant also heard singing but didn’t see her. He was focused on the sea—it began spinning like a whirlpool and the boat was snatched from the dock. They both passed out on the shore. When they came to, the boat was nowhere to be found and it looked like the shore had been hit by a storm, which I assume was the work of the whirlpool. Gaia knows.” She sighed raggedly.
I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. My aunt’s hand went white gripping the edge of the table. She grasped her head with a pained shout, and I dropped the watering can, rushing over as she began to fall, her eyes rolling back.
“Aunt Lorna!” I helped her to the ground. Her skin was practically gray. I felt her pulse, which was there, her eyes still rolling. She’d passed out. I patted her cheek, freaking out as a light sheen of sweat beaded along her hairline.
