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Chapter twenty-five

Living

P oppy stared at the wall.

It was an ordinary wall—or she supposed walls , since it was clear two buildings were butted right against each other.

On the left was a facade of irregular gray stone, with an ATM set into it for the overpriced convenience of Fourth Avenue shoppers.

On the right, even red brick. There was no space between them.

None at all. No gateway or pathway or mystic portal.

She cast Rai a sidelong glance. “You’re sure this is the place?”

“You cannot see it?” He was in his human guise—though he’d managed to incorporate all his freckles, to her delight—and had revealed his most garish shirt yet, a pastiche of bright orange goldfish mixed with swirling blue waves.

It was beautiful against his brown human skin—and had somehow looked even better with his real skin, even though it should have clashed horribly.

Maybe it was just his Rai-ness, deluding her lust-crazed brain into abandoning all color theory, along with intelligent thought.

“It is here.” He drew one finger along the mortared seam in the wall .

“You say that like I’m a sixth-grader who doesn’t know her ABCs,” she grumbled.

He gave her a smile that her mood interpreted as condescending, even though she knew he meant only reassurance. “It is all right,” he said gently. “Humans are not supposed to see it. It is good to know that the path to faerie is safe.”

“You know, it’s not too late to just get lunch…” She turned toward the sandwich shop, trying not to break into a run.

Rai’s hand landed on her shoulder—not grabbing, just touching, gentle as a breeze—and she stopped in her tracks.

“Do not be afraid,” he murmured. “You wished to know more of me, of my world.” He grasped her fingers, studied her knuckles as if they were a rare artifact. “Do you no longer wish it?” His eyes flickered to meet hers, serious.

“No, I still want to…” She swallowed. “What if I can’t get in? What if I just…bonk into the wall and break my nose?”

“Hold tight to my hand,” he said, “and close your eyes. Do not think.”

“Easier said than done.” But Poppy tightened her grip on Rai’s fingers, let him draw her closer. He took her other hand as well, turning so his back was to the wall. His smile was wide and eager, boyish, almost too joyful to be borne.

“Close your eyes and trust me,” he whispered.

God help her, she did.

One step, then another, and surely Rai was going to hit the wall and she was going to crash into his chest, except there was another step, and another and another.

The sounds of traffic and afternoon shoppers faded, replaced by the bright trill of bubbling water, birds singing, low musical voices.

She inhaled, scenting flowers, petrichor, a hint of spice.

Rai kept tugging her forward. Another step. Another.

“There. You may look.”

She blinked open her eyes cautiously to soft light. They were standing before a fountain that cast spray into the air about them. Wherever the light was coming from, it made a rainbow in the fountain’s mist, an actual fucking rainbow, and she had to laugh. “Where are the unicorns?”

Rai chuckled. “Everyone knows unicorns do not exist.” He drew her down to sit on the tile rim of the fountain.

The tiles were like talavera but pentagonal, swirling glazed patterns flowing from one to another, nested together with four-pointed stars.

She stroked the smooth glazed shapes, the faint roughness of the grout lines catching at her fingertips .

He was watching her closely, his face grave. Was he expecting her to reject this place, to reject him? “It’s beautiful,” she said, setting her hand on his leg.

His smile returned. “I am glad.” He trailed a finger in the water, caught up a handful. It seemed to glow in his palm. “I have not explored the avenues, but Ofelia assured me there are many charming vistas and sensual delights to enjoy.” He gave her a swift, hot glance through his lashes.

Poppy tried to come up with a clever quip to diffuse some of that heat—she was pretty sure making out at the entrance to faerieland was a no-no—but then she caught sight of a couple strolling down one of the radiating paths, and her mouth dropped open.

She hastily looked back at Rai. “I shouldn’t stare, should I? ”

He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “If they are offended, I will defend you.”

“But I don’t want them to be offended in the first place.

” It was hard not to stare. She’d expected any fae they met to be, well, basically like Rai.

Purple, at the very least. But as more unconcerned residents of faerie moved in and out of her sight, the kaleidoscope of colors and textures and shapes made her dizzy.

Each fae she saw was unlike the next, some seeming entirely human but for their wings, some so alien in coloring and proportion that she could not imagine how they ever managed to walk among humans as Rai did.

“Do you want to…purple out?” Ugh, that was an inane way of putting it.

But she couldn’t think of a better one. Fae up?

Switch faces? Go wingy? It was ridiculous.

He did not seem to care. “Yes, my thanks.” He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it, shook his head like a lion, and melted into his other self. His wings spread wide behind him, and he sighed in relief.

Poppy watched it all, fascinated. He’d changed guises before her many times in the past few days, going human whenever they went to see her mother or for coffee, often dropping the disguise as soon as they were alone again, but sometimes not bothering, as the wings could be awkward when moving from room to room.

Rai also donned his human skin color when he was posing.

He’d said he wished for the painting to show his disguised form, as he thought his mother would find it amusing.

So Poppy had grown comfortable with his changing skins, seeing all of his variations just as Rai now, but the transition still felt like magic every time.

And okay, so it was magic, but it was also real, and she couldn’t help but stare.

He gave the shirt a twist and tossed it into his storage portal—another thing that continued to astonish her.

She thought it would be too intrusive to ask to see it, the space where he kept all his possessions, but she couldn’t help but try and peek in whenever he folded space and made things appear and disappear.

It wasn’t rude, she reasoned, if he was casually opening portals all willy-nilly and she just happened to see things inside.

Today she caught a glimpse of gold, which made sense.

He’d let her take a good look at one of his mermaid coins and indicated that he had many more.

She was pretty sure the coin had been actual gold. Maybe even twenty-four karat. Which was terrifying.

“So,” she said to distract herself from that thought. “Where to first?”

“I do not know,” he replied, looking around. “I have only been here the once, when I first met Ofelia. And she regrettably is too busy today to chatter with a stray cat.” He pouted slightly.

“It’s okay,” Poppy said. “We can explore together.”

Poppy had at least heard Ofelia’s voice, as Rai had insisted they call her to confirm that condoms were no longer necessary.

It had been possibly the most embarrassing conversation of Poppy’s life, but any lingering doubts she’d had as to Rai’s relationship with the fae woman had been thoroughly quelled by first Ofelia’s dry mockery and then the eviscerating lecture she had directed at Rai upon learning just how Poppy had found out Rai’s secret.

Somewhere between you are lucky she did not push you off the top of the mountain and you have the courting skills of a mangy coyote —or possibly from the opening sally of you rock-brained dunce —it had become excruciatingly clear that Ofelia had as much romantic interest in Rai as she would in a lump of polished granite.

Perhaps less, depending on the lump of granite’s shape and size.

Thankfully, Ofelia had then confirmed with clipped kindness that should Poppy intend to go on with a feckless puddle like Rai—this was, oddly, the only insult that made him bristle—she need not fear for sexual consequences.

Poppy had brought her sketchbook and colored pencils, at his suggestion, and while she had not planned on spending the whole time drawing, she soon found that Rai was perfectly happy to sit by her side and tell her stories of his travels while she tried to render a particularly enchanting flower or one of the desert birds that were, in this hazy liminal space, content to preen themselves in full view.

“They know where they are safe,” Rai said when she wondered at it.

“The birds are much respected among the fae, and it would be a…crime? Ah, no, a sin”—he cast Poppy a sizzling, sinful glance through his eyelashes—“to assault them in the underworld. They are not as we, able to reason, but their instincts lead them truly, and they have no difficulty finding their path. ”

Poppy gazed down at the hummingbird depicted in bright slashes of colored pencil on paper, then back up at where the model was still serenely sitting on a branch.

She’d never seen a live hummingbird that was not in motion, usually away from her.

“Why don’t they stay here all the time?” She took the opportunity to add more precise details to her rushed sketch.

He shrugged. “One cannot always be safe,” he said practically. “A life without risk is merely existing, not living. Even fae do not remain in the underworld at all times. It is a haven for a moment. We are loath to make of it our own prison.”