The morning after prom, dawn broke to lashing rain and angry wind. Thunder grumbled in the distance, low and steady, like some vengeful beast. Maura rolled over in bed and pulled her knees to her chest, swimming below consciousness. It was a rare Sunday off from work, and she was coherent just enough to happily remember she had the entire day to herself. She could do anything she wanted . . . and that included a few more hours of oblivion.

When she finally woke at a quarter to ten, the rain had quieted and the sky brightened. Birdsong filled the air, foretelling a nice day ahead. Eyes sticky with sleep, Maura checked her phone for an update from Colin. She hadn't heard from him the night before, and the text she sent when she got home had gone unanswered.

Hope everything is okay . . . she typed. Her thumb hovered over the send button, not wanting to come off as smothering. She sent the text anyway.

Not waiting for a reply from Colin, Maura got out of bed before her pillow and duvet could lull her back and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Then she set off for a late breakfast of cold cereal. No doubt her mother would be in the living room, having been awake for hours already, taking advantage of her free time with a book and a cup of tea. Or maybe she'd be cooking in the kitchen with a podcast playing in the background, or even puttering around in the garden, attempting to reclaim it from the weeds. Sunday was her mother's only day off and she tended to make the most of it, packing in as much as she could. Maybe they would do something fun, just the two of them. Have a girls' day out like they used to. It had been a long time.

As Maura made her way down the stairs, she heard muted voices coming from the kitchen. She paused with her hand on the railing, straining to hear. One of the voices belonged to her mother. The other belonged to . . .

Maura practically ran down the last of the stairs, skidding to a halt as she rounded the corner in her socks. "Luke?"

Her mother was sitting stone-faced next to him, but when Maura entered the room, her gaze lifted to meet her daughter's. It was obvious she had been crying. It was then that she noticed an aborted breakfast on the table. The air smelled of congealed eggs, cold toast, and sorrow.

"What are you doing here?" Maura demanded, her eyes cutting back to him.

"Luke thinks he knows where your father is," her mother said. Despite the tears, her voice was steady.

Maura took a deep breath, unsure in that moment of her ability to keep from physically lashing out at Luke. Memories of the previous night came back to her, but she quickly pushed them down. Just when she thought she and Luke might be friends, he had to go and ruin it with this nonsense again.

"It's one thing to lie to me," she said, "but to drag my mother into your twisted story. What gives you the right—"

Her mother grabbed her arm, her fingers digging painfully into her muscle. "I believe him, Maura."

Maura yanked her arm from her mother's grasp. "I know you are desperate for Dad to come home—so am I—but how can you believe him?"

Her mother shook her head, seemingly at a loss for words. "I suppose with the same faith it took for me to finally believe your father."

Maura crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean?"

"When your dad disappeared, I didn't want to consider that he might have gone back."

"Gone back?"

"Back . . . there," her mother said, waving her hand at some nebulous other place. "He was one of them, after all." She laughed and ran and hand under her nose. "Trust me, I really didn't want to believe him."

"What are you talking about?" Maura said, her stomach churning. She thought she might be sick and reached out a hand to grab the edge of the counter for support.

"I tried telling you," Luke said. "Your father is not mortal, Maura. He is˗˗"

"No!" Maura said, clapping her hands over her ears in a futile effort to tune him out. She knew what Luke was going to say. He was going to concoct some story about her father being a faery, and that he'd run off to rejoin his faery family. But that was ludicrous!

"The police have found nothing," her mother said, the epitome of calm. "No evidence to suggest why an otherwise happy husband and father would just pick up and leave."

"But his briefcase," Maura said. "And his coffee on the ground. The door to his car was left wide open. Doesn't that suggest a struggle?"

Her mother's shoulders rose and fell. "I don't know, honey. Maybe. As crazy as it sounds, doesn't it make sense that he might have disappeared into another realm?"

"No, that doesn't make sense!" Maura yelled, her face going red with anger. "It doesn't make any sense at all!"

"I think your father left to protect you," Luke said.

"Shut up!"

"Maura," her mother warned. "Please, listen to what he has to say."

"I think your father left to protect you," Luke said again.

Maura rolled her eyes, her mouth tightening. "Fine. Protect me from what?"

"Not from what," he replied. "From whom. The queen. I believe she agreed to leave you alone only if Brendan returned to her, but it was a lie."

Maura turned to her mother. "You're not actually buying this, are you?"

"I am."

Maura's voice broke. "Why, Mom? Why? After everything we've been through!"

"Because I have to, Maura!" The breath rushed from her lungs and she slumped in her chair. "It's my fault for not telling you about this sooner," her mother went on. "About who your dad claimed to be. Perhaps if I had . . ."

"I would have had you committed!"

Her mother placed both palms on the table, her eyes now turning steely. "Maura, for once in your life put rational thought aside. Open yourself to the possibility that your father's disappearance is related to something not of this world." When Maura said nothing, she added, "I have seen the vial. You are running out of time."

To underscore her point, Luke pulled the vial in question out from under his shirt. "When I first met you it was empty," he said. "Now it is nearly half-full. Last night—"

"Should never have happened," Maura said pointedly, anger still in her voice.

"Exactly what happened?" her mother asked.

"Nothing," Maura replied. "We danced."

"It wasn't nothing," Luke countered. "You know that as well as I do."

"But I like Colin!"

"Colin is a distraction from your true feelings."

Maura scoffed. "Well, aren't you full of yourself?"

"Maura!" her mother exclaimed. "Why are you acting like this?"

"She doesn't want to admit she has feelings for me," Luke said. "She doesn't want to admit the truth."

"What I feel is irritated and annoyed. There is nothing you can say or do to make me believe that faeries exist, or that I'm at the top of some faery queen's hit list."

The room was silent, Maura's words hanging in the air. Her mother leaned back in her chair, hands to her face. Defeated.

"Well, there is one thing I can do to make you believe me," Luke said at last.

"Oh yeah? What?"

Luke took a deep breath. "If your father is where I think he is, I can take you to see him."

Maura's chin quivered, and the unshed tears finally spilled over. With a shake of her head and a fleeting glance at her mother, she hurried from the room, taking the stairs two at a time to her sanctuary.

*****

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