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Yet today had been no different than Monday or Tuesday.

She’d texted him cute emojis and positive messages that still indicated she was busy, busy, busy.

When would she be done? How many hundreds of dollars did she need to be free to see him?

If this was how “responsible adults” lived their lives, day after day of tedium waiting for tiny moments of respite, he could not understand how humans managed to continue existing for the hundred years Ofelia claimed they lived.

Nor, for that matter, how they managed to conceive the children they supposedly craved helplessly. It made no sense.

Now it was almost five o’clock, and there was a desultory rain falling outside—not much of a storm, but it was enough that he would not risk his health.

He exited his tub, absorbing the water on his skin as he considered his clothing.

Poppy would expect him to be a businessman.

He sighed and donned the crisp dark trousers, boring white shirt, and slightly brighter tie Ofelia had advised him were “professional” attire.

He had just managed to get the tie fastened properly, with the assistance of a YouTube video, when the phone chimed.

He would have to ask Poppy how to put music on his phone.

Though the chimes were not unpleasant, he was not pleased with any of the ringtones his phone offered, not compared to the entertaining song Poppy had used as her alarm. He tapped on the notification.

I’m done! But I have to go run a couple errands first. Can you come over at six?

He was halfway through typing his response when another message arrived .

I’m sorry. Can we make that nine? Something’s come up.

He glared at it, erasing his message and starting a new one.

What is wrong? Is there more work you must do? Had he not done enough for her? He should have offered to pay double the price for each of the drawings.

She did not reply.

Rai paced and fumed and finally came to a decision.

He was done with sitting in his room, watching movies, doing Google searches and waiting, waiting, waiting.

If Poppy could not meet him now, he would ride the storm above until she was free.

He flung open his door, stepped out into the rain, and hurried to the alley behind the motel, where he wrapped himself in a glamour to avoid all eyes.

The shirt was a nuisance. He stripped it off, tugging the collar out from under the necktie, and tied it about his waist. His wings unfurled from faerie, spreading wide; he sighed in relief as the falling rain caressed them.

He had been too long imprisoned by the brutal, deadly heat.

He needed to live . He laughed and leapt into the air, flying swiftly to meet the clouds.

He burst through them into the sunlight above, then flew back into the mist, absorbing energy and feeding it back to make the storm rage.

His tie flapped wildly against his bare skin with the wind of his passage.

The sun was low enough that the clouds were starting to glow with pink and orange, their wisps and puffs casting shadows he could swoop in and out of.

This was where he belonged, and he gleefully fell into the flow of the storm, urging it to send torrents of rain and hail on the earth below.

Lightning began to crackle around him, and he dove downward so he could gaze upon the destruction.

And he saw Poppy’s home.

There were no lights on in the guest house at the back, though the main house was brightly lit.

And Poppy’s car was parked under the carport, so whatever Poppy was doing, it must be at home.

He let the storm carry him along, watching the house grow smaller and smaller, and the lightning raged and the thunder crashed and… and… And he did not want to go.

Surely Poppy would not mind if he was a trifle early?

He could converse with her mother while he waited.

And he had stashed the boxes of condoms in his faerie hoard so he did not need to return to his motel before their tryst. He set his jaw and abandoned his cloud, flying back until he could alight before the house .

He could see Poppy’s mother through the window, but no sign of Poppy. She must be in another room. He hastily donned his business shirt, shoving the collar back under the necktie, and approached the front door, drying his clothing once he was out of the rain.

At his knock, the door opened, and Jen looked at him quizzically.

“Oh, hello,” she said with a surprised smile.

“May I wait for Poppy’s convenience here?” he said, catching her hand for a kiss of greeting.

She nodded, though she looked confused. “Please, come in.”

Rai strode in. “I am pleased to see you again,” he said, putting on his most ingratiating expression.

Poppy’s mother did not seem to notice. She was staring out the open door at the pouring rain. “Yes,” she said after a bit. “Poppy said you would be visiting tonight.” She shook herself and closed the door. “Can I get you something? Water, tea?”

“I have no needs.” He peered into the kitchen. Not there. “Poppy has been quite hard at work.”

“Oh, yes!” Jen brightened. “I am so excited to see the new book.”

Rai frowned. “Book?”

She indicated a stuffed bookshelf, one of many. “I’ll have to start a new shelf soon. Though I did gain some space when…” She cast Rai a worried glance. “I’m sorry, maybe she hasn’t told you about that.”

“She has spoken of no books,” Rai said, walking over to peer at the shelf. He did not recognize any of the names or titles on the spines, but they all had a single thing in common—an elegant swirling abstract shape that repeated along the entire row. “These are Poppy’s?”

“That she edited,” Jen said, her face melting into a proud smile.

“Most of them. I was going to throw away the ones by her… By that man, but she said I should keep them, since they’re signed first editions.

” Her smile had faded to sadness, or perhaps anger?

She had the same expressions as Poppy, and the realization made Rai’s stomach ache. Where was Poppy hiding?

“Who is that man ?” he asked, craning his neck to peer down the empty hall.

Jen had turned to stare out the window; she snapped her attention back to him, frowning. “I don’t know what Poppy’s told you about her…her life.”

“I know of her father,” Rai said, gentling his voice. “And she has said she was once wed. ”

Poppy’s mother sighed. “Yes. Her husband, the writer.” Lightning and thunder crashed outside, and she jumped. “Oh!”

“It is just the storm,” Rai said.

“Yes, but…” She bit her lip.

“Poppy said something had come up,” he said, impatience rising in him again. “Perhaps I could assist? Is she in the back room?”

Jen swallowed, flickering glances about the room. “She’s not here.”

Rai froze. “But her car is here.”

“She… She went to the store. There were things we needed, and…and she was going to go on Friday, payday, but…”

“But her car is here ,” Rai repeated. “Why did she not take her car?”

“She said it wouldn’t start. So she…”

Thunder and lightning crashed again, and the lights of the house dimmed, and Rai felt it all through his body, like all his frustration and impatience had coalesced into the storm itself. “She is walking ?”

“It wasn’t raining,” Jen said, but her voice was trembling, and Rai could see it now, could see the building worry that Poppy had told him of, could see the compulsions beginning to take hold, and he reached out and took Jen’s hands in his, clasping them tightly and looking deep into her eyes.

“Do not worry,” he said fiercely. “I will rescue her.”