Valentine's Day Sucks (2 page)

We turned as my husband crossed the small concrete porch and joined us. He held up a little vial that looked as though it was filled with black glitter.

“
That’s strange,” said Mom. “I thought the fairy dust was gold when I bought it.”

“
You bought fairy dust? What did you buy it with? Childhood memories? Years off your life? Your soul?” I screeched. Panic consumed me. Fairy dust was rare, and it was certainly never given away (especially not to humans). Fairy dust, since it granted a single wish, was often traded by fairies for things they coveted. Many of them, however, were kinda jerks and they would steal what they could from humans in exchange for a wish. A wish, BTW, wasn’t without strings. Trust me—it was better not to make one at all.

My mother frowned. “Would you calm down? It’s not real, for heaven’s sake.”

I slapped a hand against my chest where my heart wasn’t beating. “Holy crap. Don’t scare me like that.”

Mom opened her mouth—and by her expression, I knew a lecture was getting ready to spew forth. I set my internal phaser on “cringe.” (Star Trek joke! You’re welcome!) However, our prisoner’s voice stalled her words.

“
Hello, Patrick,” he said.

“
Eros,” acknowledged my husband. “Seems you’re feeling rather homicidal these days.”

“
I don’t kill people!”

“
You were shooting arrows at me,” said Mom. “That counts as attempted murder.”

“
They’re not those kinds of arrows. They’re magic. They open the stubborn human heart to love.” He frowned. “I haven’t used the bow in millennia. Today, I had this sudden, irresistible urge to take it and come here.” He attempted to look around. “Wherever here is.”

“
Oklahoma,” I said helpfully. “Our motto is ‘Oklahoma is OK.’”

“
Fascinating,” said Eros. “Now, about this netting—”

“
Why can’t you get out of it?” I asked. “You’re a god, right?”

Eros sighed. “Gods can’t abide iron. It weakens us.”

“
Oh.”

Patrick lifted the tiny glass vial. “The fairy dust, Colleen. Where’n did you purchase it?”

My mother apparently didn’t appreciate his tone because she crossed her arms and tapped her foot when she responded. “After I visited you last night, I was driving through downtown, and my car went broke down in front of Simone and Brady’s  garage. They offered to check it out, but said it would take a while. I wandered around downtown and came across this quaint little gift shop. The fairy dust was on a display stand near the register and I thought it was adorable.”

“
An’ you say it was gold when you bought it?”

“
Yes. I’m quite sure.”

Patrick nodded. “I’ll call Simone.”

“
Good idea,” I said.

“
Hey,” said Eros. “What about me?”

“
You still feel like shooting me mother-in-law with your bow?” asked Patrick.

“
Not really.”

My hot vampire hubby reached down and grabbed the netting. It split in half. Iron stakes and yard ornaments went flying. The gnome arced about three feet and shattered on the porch.

Even though her son-in-law had caused the damage, Mom glared at me. “We’ll replace everything,” I promised.

Eros extracted himself from the debris and stood up. He brushed off the dirt from his jacket and pants, and then offered a sheepish grin. “I’d appreciate it if we could keep this whole incident quiet.”

Patrick nodded and slapped his ancient pal on the back. “O’ course, Eros. We won’t tell anyone that a 63-year-old human female bested you and tossed your magical bow into the lake.”

“
Shit,” said Eros. “You’re not keeping this a secret, are you?”

“
Not in a million years,” said Patrick, smiling.

WHEN WE GOT inside, Eros asked to use the bathroom.

“Do gods pee?” I asked.

Eros blinked down at me. “Who are you?”

“This is my wife,” said Patrick. “Jessica.”

I swore Eros shot him a look of sympathy.

“It’s down the hall to the right,” said Mom. “Please excuse my daughter’s manners. She was dropped on her head as a baby. Several times.”

Eros nodded, and went off to do his potties. Or not. Because he didn’t answer the pee question, I would never know.

“I bet there are lots of people who wonder if gods pee. Or if they poop,” I said.

My mother paled. “Oh, dear God.”

Patrick laughed, then leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Ask him again, love. See what he says.”

“Don’t encourage her.” Mom narrowed her gaze at Patrick. “Why are you calling Simone?”

“
Because the fairy wish probably has something to with Flet,” he offered. He took out his cell phone. “I’ll be right back.” He went outside to the porch, either for privacy or more likely to get away from my mother’s bone-melting glares.

She turned to me. “What is a Flet?”

“
A pain-in-the-ass pixie who likes to cause trouble,” I said.

“
I’m getting a cup of coffee,” said Mom. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything. I keep forgetting to pick up a pint of blood.”

Mom thought it was the height of rudeness not to offer guests something to drink, even vampire guests. Vampires could only eat and drink inside the borders of Broken Heart, thanks to that ornery wish-granting Flet. On the up side, I got to eat chocolate again. Nothing tastes better than a Godiva truffle. Except Patrick. And blood. (Sorry, but … hey, vampire here.)

Despite the fact I had been a vampire for quite a while now, and Mom visited Broken Heart regularly, she wasn’t much for wanting to know exactly what went on in our strange little town. Plus, there was no way in hell she’d keep a pint of blood in her refrigerator. Not that we’d want to drink it … bagged blood tasted awful.

Mom offered me a tired smile, and then went to the kitchen. The cabin was basically a huge open space—living room, dining room, and kitchen. There were two bedrooms, and the bathroom. It wasn’t a big place, but it still felt lonely. I wished Mom would move into town. It probably wasn’t good for her to spend nearly all her time alone in this place—especially with its memories of the best of our family times.

Patrick finished his phone call and returned to me. “Simone an’ Brady are on the way. And they’re bringin’ Flet.”

I wrapped my arms around Patrick and laid my head on his shoulder. “You know, I’d say tonight was really strange…”

“
But it’s really not,” finished Patrick. He stroked my hair. “At least, not for us.”

Truer words were never spoken.

BRADY AND SIMONE arrived with a jar full of pissed-off pixie. We gathered in the living room, and Eros appeared—literally. He wore a white T-shirt, faded jeans, and Converse sneakers.

“What happened to the suit?” I asked.

“I burned it.”

I gave him a thumbs-up. “Good call.”

Flet floated in his glass prison, all sparkling fury. His gold light, however, dimmed considerably when Brady showed him the vial of black glitter. Flet took one look at the evidence, and crossed his tiny arms. “I didn’t do it.”

“Flet,” said Simone, her voice full of warning. “We know what a fairy wish looks like when it’s been used. We also know you’re the only around here who can grant wishes.”

I looked at my mother, wondering why she was staying so quiet. She sipped from her coffee mug, eyeing Flet like a bug she wanted to squash. Well, we’d all had that feeling a time or two. Flet could be impetuous, especially when he got bored.

“
What did you do, little guy?” asked Brady.

Flet remained mutinously quiet.

“
Confess,” demanded Simone. “Or you will be in charge of Glory’s slumber party and entertaining eight pre-teen girls.”

Flet flinched.

“
That means talking about boys, having pillow fights, watching chick flicks, and comparing boobs,” added Simone. “Are you prepared to show off your boobs, Flet?”

“
Sweet  mercy! All right, all right,” said Flet, raising his itty bitty hands in a gesture of giving up. “I thought Colleen … er, needed a wish for Valentine’s Day. Yes.” He nodded eagerly. “So … I, um, put one in the gift store, and gave her a wee bit of encouragement to buy it.”

That meant the little bugger used some of his pixie influence on Mom. I took the jar from Simone, and brought it to my eye level. “Are you saying my mother wished for a psychopathic Cupid?” I asked.

“Hey,” protested Eros. “I’m the god of love. Talk to Hades if you want death wishes.”

Flet looked genuinely horrified. “I granted no such thing.” His expression went sullen, and then he sent a wounded glance at Mom. “Why don’t you ask her?”

We all turned toward my mother. She took a long sip of coffee, but the mug was too small to hide her obvious discomfort. She glanced around at our faces—and finished off her drink.

I sniffed at the foreign smell that wafted from the empty mug. “What kind of coffee is that?” I asked.

“Bourbon,” she said.

Holy crap. Was my mother losing it, or what? Booze. Guns. What was next? Chippendales in a hot tub? I glanced at Eros. She’d come pretty close to that one, especially if she had figured out a way to haul him to lake along with his bow.

“All right, Mom. You said the glitter was gold. Now it’s black. The wish was used.” I pointed at Brady, and he held up the vial as though he were a prosecutor showing the jury incontrovertible evidence. I arched an eyebrow. “’Fess up, woman.”

Mom did something I’d never seen her do before.

She blushed.

I was dumbfounded into silence. I felt Patrick’s arm slid around my shoulder and he tucked me in close. He always knew when to comfort me—though I suspected he was really trying to keep me from strangling people.

We should work our mind mojo on her, I sent to him. She’s keeping secrets.

She’s allowed to have secrets. Love, I know you’ve been worried about her, but she’s always under our protection. She’ll be fine.

Gah. I hate it when you’re reasonable.

Well, then. I promise t’ be unreasonable later … in our bed.

Sweeeeet.

“I’ve been visiting someone,” said Mom.

“Who?” I asked. “Where? When?”

I didn’t believe it was possible, but my mother’s cheeks reddened even more.

“For the last six months, I’ve been seeing a very nice gentleman.” She cleared her throat. “His name is Arthur.”

Mom had never dated. Not ever. I mean, maybe before my dad died, but after he passed away, she claimed he was her great love—and she never blinked an eye at another man. For twenty-freaking-years.

“Where on earth did you meet him, Mom? You don’t own a computer. You only go into town for groceries. And the only people you see are—” I gasped. “You met Arthur in Broken Heart?” Patrick’s arm tightened around me, as if he were afraid I was going to tackle my mother and pinch her until she told me everything.

Which wasn’t a bad idea.

“Yes,” she said. “I met Arthur in Broken Heart. He lives in the Golden Oaks Retirement Community.”

“The senior citizen nudist colony!?” My mouth dropped open. Patrick gently used his free hand to close it, and then he laid his fingers across my lips.

“It’s clothing-optional, dear,” she corrected. “You’ve been persistent about having me move into town, so I decided to check it out.” She raised her hand to forestall my protests, even though Patrick had already ensured I wouldn’t speak. Or yell. Or lose my shit completely. “I know you’ve said you have plenty of room at your house, but my independence is important to me. I need my own space, Jessica. And God forgive me, but you would drive me so crazy, I would end up staking you.”

Eros laughed, and his guffaw was followed by those of my supposed friends, Brady and Simone. And even my own husband wanted to laugh—which was why his stomach muscles were tensed and his hand trembled as he fought for control.

I batted his hand away from my mouth. “If you’re dating someone, then why in the hell do you need a lonely heart’s wish?” I spun and glared at Flet. “You wanna add something to your story, frog bait?”

Flet immediately looked guilty. He shuffled his tiny feet, and then he sighed. He placed both hands upon his heart. “Maybe I interfered a little,” he admitted. “But only t’ help. I swear upon the soul of Saint Valentine.”

“Which one?” asked Eros. He leaned down and studied Flet through the glass. “You’re not just any pixie, are you? You’re the little bastard who enchanted Geoffrey Chaucer.” Eros chuckled as he straightened. “Chaucer was the one who associated romantic love with Saint Valentine’s Day. The story was called Parlement of Foules.”

“I did not enchant him,” said Flet. “He was my friend. He made a deathbed wish, okay?”

Uh, I was drawing a blank. I didn’t have enough room in my head for all the vampire shit I needed to remember, much less anything to do with pixies.

“A deathbed wish is far more powerful than a regular wish. Geoffrey asked nothing from me, even though I offered time and again. Except on the day he died. He asked me to grant love to a deserving couple each Valentine’s Day in remembrance of him.” He turned to my mother. “So, I gave it to you and Arthur.”

“You need another shot of bourbon, Mom?” I asked.

“Maybe several,” she said, looked dazed. “Oh, dear.”

“Why am I here?” asked Eros. “I’ve never fulfilled a Valentine’s Day wish while under pixie enchantment.”

“That’s not my fault,” said Flet. “Your appearance clearly had something t’ do with the words of the wish.”

“You gave them a lover’s wish without telling them?” I asked.

Flet looked at his feet. “Sorta.”

“Wait a minute,” said Simone. “You said and … Colleen and Arthur.”

“Is that bad?” I asked. I looked at Simone’s alarmed expression, and gulped. “It is bad. Crap.”

Music burst into the room. Huh. It sounded like a Bon Jovi song. I listened harder. Oh, yeah. That song from the ‘80s … waaaay back when music still made sense to me. Golden light shimmered in front of Eros, and then it consumed him completely. After a few seconds, the light and music faded, and Eros stood there once again dressed in pink-stripped Armani. At least his shoes were—oh. Never mind. They were pink, too.