Faetality |?|

Chapter Twelve, Part One - Deadly Confessions

“But she didn’t because Mrs. James is Human,” Lana reminded. “Fae aren’t supposed to hurt innocent Humans.”

“If being around the Fae has taught me anything it’s that they have a thing for loopholes. Technically, when she adopted me, Margaret took in a fugitive. I can’t imagine that the Ice Queen or her sister would look too kindly on that.”

A short silence passed and judging from the look on her face I could see that Lana felt bad for me and was just as clearly at a loss as I was.

“You know, I always wondered what happened to my real family,” I said quietly. “I didn’t wanna let myself think that they’d abandoned me, but I couldn’t believe that they’d willingly give me away either. But to find out that Westley took me from the Otherworld and brought me here… to live with Humans… I’m a lot less upset about that than I thought I would be? Why is that?”

“Because you aren’t like the Ice Queen, or her Knight. You’re better than they are. And you know what else I think? I think your Aunt is a big, fat liar for telling you that you don’t belong with us Humans. But she was right when she said you don’t belong with the Unseelie. You’re nothing like the Dark Fae… You should be proud of that.”

            “Thanks, Lana,” I said with a small smile.

            “Well, I’m gonna go back to bed and try to catch a few z’s. Oh gawd… I really hope I don’t have any dreams…”

            “You’ll be fine,” I said with a grin. “I’m thirsty. I’m gonna go grab some milk. “G’nite,”

            “Nite,”

            And with a final yawn, Lana patted her mouth, slouching her way back into my bedroom. I made my way down the stairs to the first floor, and walked past the living room. But I hadn’t cleared more than five steps before I stopped dead in my tracks and backed up.

            The living room was dimly lit with the credits of Sleepless in Seattle rolling.  A half a bottle of red wine sat on the coffee table between two empty flutes. One glass had red lipstick smudged around the rim. And spread out across two cushions of the dark blue couch rested the grey afghan my mother had knitted one winter, several years ago. Quickly, I examined the evidence. As the wine glasses indicated, not one, but two people had recently sat beside each other on the couch, in the dim light sipping wine as they watched a cheesy, romantic movie.

Then, I noticed the voices that floated from the kitchen. There was the low murmur of a man’s voice, followed by the light, tinkling laughter of a woman.

            I made a beeline for the kitchen, my heart skipping beats as my head was filled with a stream of impossible thoughts.

            Mom. She was home.

            But all thoughts of her return were dashed to pieces as I stopped short in the kitchen doorway. Margaret James wasn’t the woman who leaned against the counter top, gazing at my father with stars in her eyes.

            It was Erica, his secretary.

            The conversation stopped as soon as I arrived. Dad, still dressed in his day clothes, had been talking animatedly before but it seemed as if now all words had failed him. He was standing on the opposite side of the counter from Erica, with a plate full of Ritz Crackers and can of spray cheese between them.

            “Uh… Tamsyn, hi,” Erica spoke, quickly covering her lips in an effort to disguise a mouth full of crackers and cheese.

            “Hi,” was the stiff reply I gave before turning my disappointed gaze on my father.

            “Hey, honey, I thought you were asleep,” Dad said, clearing his throat and exchanging looks with Erica.

            “So did I,” I couldn’t help but reply.

            “I’m sorry if we disturbed you,” Erica spoke up. “Don’t blame him – it’s really my fault.”

            “You look nice,” I replied, noticeably observing the black cocktail dress she wore and the way it pushed up her cleavage. Her makeup was done, with her dark hair swept up into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck, and a few stray wisps had pulled free to charmingly curl about her face.

            “Thanks, I was a party earlier – they had really good entertainment,”

            She offered a close-mouthed smile that came across as more of a smirk.

            “Oh I’m sure you’d know all about good entertainment,” I replied with a wide, friendly smile, before turning to address my dad. “You know, I forgot that Sleepless in Seattle is Mom’s favorite movie. I remember when the two of you used to watch it together too.”

            “Oh, I wasn’t here for most of it,” Erica interrupted as I watched Dad’s face turn a ruddy red color. “I actually just popped by after the party to drop off some paperwork from the office. I only caught the tail end of the movie, but from what I’ve seen your mother has really good taste.”

            I took a deep, even breath, feeling my nostrils flare wide with anger. Was my father this blind, this ignorant? How could he not see what this woman was attempting to do? Or possibly he did see. And he just didn’t care.

            “You know, it is kind of late – I should probably be going,” I knew we all sensed the tension in the air, just as I knew that Erica was only excusing herself to play the wise victim. “See you in the office, Thom.”