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Chapter thirty-six

A Dream with a Deadline

R ai landed lightly on yet another cactus-studded hill and went to his knees, trying not to fall on his face as he let Jen down. It was frustrating, having to stop even as often as he did, but he had to admit, he would not have been able to make the journey without Jen’s help.

They had quickly determined that it was easiest for Jen to ride on Rai’s shoulders; it meant his view of the terrain was clear, and he could hold on to her ankles to keep her secure.

He’d given her the umbrella that had been Poppy’s gift, to use as a shade from the sun.

She in turn had a clear view of Rai’s beer helmet and could exchange empty bottles for full quickly without Rai needing to even pause.

She would give him a pat on the cheek when she set the last of her full bottles in place, signaling for him to seek out a landing spot so that he could spiral open his hoard and allow her to refill her bag with full bottles while he briefly rested from his exertions.

They had at first put the empty bottles back in his storage space, but after the first few exchanges, Jen had grumbled an oath, pulled all the empties out, and piled them on the desert sand .

“We can come back for them later,” she’d said. “Right now, they’re just in the way.”

He’d had to admit that the next exchange was easier; instead of spiraling the whole portal open, he could just reach in, grasp bottles one by one, and hand them to Jen. It saved time and effort.

He was not sure it saved enough.

He had not been a complete fool. Before he’d set off with Jen, he had sent Ofelia a message with the most precise description he could give of where they were headed.

It would not have been enough for a human, who would need an address, roads and miles and turnoffs, but he’d hoped it would be enough for a fae, particularly a fae with an earth element in her mix, familiar with the local terrain.

At one of their stops, he had checked his phone and found a reply.

I should have expected this.

He had been too tired to smile, and with shaking fingers had typed a reply.

Yes, you should have.

They were passing in and out of zones of phone service, and though he begrudged the time, he did do his best to leave breadcrumbs for Ofelia and any fae she might enlist to their cause, dropping a pin on the navigational app and sending it to her whenever they rested where he could access data.

And he allowed himself one other indulgence, insisting to himself that while it was against what Poppy had asked of him, it was appropriate for a rescue.

At every stop where they had service, he sent Poppy a small message.

He kept them simple. He was no longer her lover, so he had not the right to include his favorite emojis, no kisses or hearts, and there was not the time for extended missives.

But, he reasoned, if Poppy did have phone service, then she should know that help was on the way, and Jen was too distraught to be of comfort.

So he sent tiny nibbles of messages, nothing too fervent or demanding, just in case.

I am bringing your mother to you.

We are coming.

We will find you.

We will save you.

Do not fear.

We are coming .

He hoped, if she received the messages, that she could understand the subtext. Everything he had wanted to say for weeks, that he had known she would not welcome. Everything he had said and she had refused and yet his heart still cried out to her.

But if she did not hear it, or she did not care to, it did not matter.

Only saving her life mattered. Only that.

Yet it seemed to him that they would not even be able to achieve that much.

They had been flying for hours, and the sun had reached its zenith, beating down upon him relentlessly.

Each time they stopped, he had to reach farther into his hoard for fresh bottles of water, and each time he flew, it seemed he consumed water faster.

And they had reached the area that he was certain Poppy had indicated.

He did not know where else to go, what direction he should explore, and so he’d landed on the hill he had thought would be the end of their journey and let Poppy’s mother down so they could consider the area, scanning the horizon for clues.

They had not had phone service for several flights, which made Rai gnash his teeth, as he could not even look at a map to locate roads.

It was Jen who found their path, in the end, pointing toward a distant place where low white rectangles were clustered.

“Go that way,” she said roughly. Though she was not as sensitive to the desert as he was, the heat was taking its toll on her, as well; she was red and sweating.

Rai had insisted that she drink as she needed, when she had seemed about to deny herself water for his sake.

“Norman painted that ranch once,” Jen said, her eyes bright with emotion. “I remember.”

Rai obediently took her on his shoulders again and flew in that direction, and as they approached the plain white buildings, he glimpsed beyond them a flash of red.

Almost at the same time, Jen patted his cheek.

“No,” he growled. “I will not stop now.”

A moment later, Jen gasped. “Is that her car?”

It was hard to tell—it was something red for certain, but the shape was not right, and there was white in the midst of the red as well.

But as they approached, it became clearer that it was indeed Poppy’s car.

The doors were wide open, and the white was the round dome of a large sunshade.

Rai let out a whoop and flew faster, nearly crashing on the road several yards away from the car.

He ducked and bowed his head to let Jen dismount, but his eyes were already searching the shadows beside the car, frantic. His heart was pounding and his hands were shaking and —

There she was.

She was leaning against the car as if asleep, her eyes closed, her legs stretched out before her on the ground.

One of her ankles was wrongly shaped, puffed as a blowfish, and her arms were slack by her sides.

For a harsh, devastating moment Rai thought she might be dead, that they were too late, but then he realized her chest was moving—shallowly, but she was breathing.

He could say nothing for a long moment. Just gaze at her, her pink cheeks and her soft dark hair and her graceful body.

“Poppy!” Jen cried, stumbling her way off Rai’s shoulders, and Poppy’s eyes opened.

“Mom?” she whispered dreamily, and then her eyes landed on Rai and went wide with shock. “R-Rai?”

He ran to her side as well, kneeling on the hot dirt of the road beside her. “Yes, it is I.” His wings were shaking behind him, from exertion and from the desert’s dry clutches.

“We’re here,” Jen crooned. “We’re here, baby.”

Poppy frowned in confusion, closing her eyes again. “Fuck,” she whispered. “I’m seeing things now.”

“No,” Rai said soothingly. “We are truly here.” He hesitantly touched her hand. It was hot. Jen had knelt on Poppy’s other side, hands fluttering at her daughter’s shoulders. She had dropped her bag of bottles beside her. They had clattered against each other instead of thudding—empty.

Poppy’s eyes fluttered halfway open again, trying to focus on Rai. “How are you here? You went away. I made you go away.”

He had no reply to that. He tried to catch Jen’s eye, but she was not looking at him, only at her daughter.

She’d been brisk and businesslike as they flew, but now she was showing signs of distress again, her eyes skittering over Poppy like frightened guppies.

Her lips were moving, but she seemed to be whispering to herself, too quiet to be heard.

“You can’t be here,” Poppy said suddenly, eyes flying wide. “Rai, you can’t—”

“I am sorry,” he said, stroking her hand. “You have said not to contact you, and I did not, but I cannot rescue you without contacting you now.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Poppy’s voice sounded like sand, like broken glass, unutterably beautiful. “I mean you can’t —”

“Well, I am here,” Rai said haughtily. “I am here because I wish to be here. I do not care for can or cannot. But if you do not wish me to be here—”

“I wish it,” she rasped. A smile quirked one side of her mouth, though her eyes were still confused. “I wished you here. I wished and wished. I… I unblocked you. I tried to…send you a message. There’s no signal.” She laughed weakly. “I was about to start crawling. I swear I was. Any second now…”

“You sent me a message?” He felt a true smile burst out on his face, as he had not smiled for weeks.

No fierceness or determination or resolve, just happiness.

“I only wish I could read it. Are there emojis?” Ah, her lips were so dry they were cracking.

He removed his helmet. The bottle on the left was already empty, but the one on the right was half full.

He unfastened it, tossing the helmet and the empty bottle through the open car door onto the seat.

“Emojis? Just…a few.” She coughed. “Rai, I—”

“Hush. Do not speak more.” He stroked her hair back from her forehead. “You must drink this.”

He held the bottle to her lips, and once the first droplets hit her tongue she sobbed and drank thirstily. Rai wrapped her hands securely around the bottle and reached into his hoard for another. It didn’t come to hand easily, no matter how he groped.

“Not too fast,” Jen suddenly said, voice shaking.

“You don’t want to drink too fast, you’ll—” She started patting Poppy all over, touching her forehead, her wrists, her legs.

When she reached Poppy’s puffy ankle, her touch elicited a harsh grunt of a scream.

“Sprained?” Her voice firmed. “Heat stroke and a sprain. We need to get you to the hospital.”

Rai groped deeper into his hoard, his stomach roiling with worry. Poppy needed more water. He did not know much of heat stroke, but he knew that water was essential. Why could he not reach it?

Poppy shook her head, reaching down to adjust her injured leg. “Not sprained. Broken, I think. I was hoping it would…go numb enough I could walk. Or that someone would come out here. I was going to crawl. The car wouldn’t—” She tilted her head. “What are you doing here, Mom?”

“Helping Rai rescue you.” Jen leaned closer, pressing light kisses to Poppy’s hair. “We flew. I can’t believe you never told me Rai had wings.”

“What is wrong with the car?” Rai patted Poppy’s hand once more and stood, taking a few steps away so he could open his portal wider, get those last bottles out of wherever they were stuck. He swirled it open as wide as he could, the strain making him dizzy, and gazed into the dim magical space.

It was empty.

He twisted it closed again, thoughts churning and raging in his head .

“It won’t start,” Poppy was saying behind him. “The battery. I left the dome light on, and…”

Rai turned his most brilliant grin on her, falling to his knees at her side again.

“Ah, then it is easily fixed,” he said, infusing cheer into his voice that he did not feel.

He patted her hands again, brisk and confident.

“Jen, do you know how to start a car? I will take care of the battery. It is my specialty.”

“Yes, I—” Jen popped to her feet. “We have to get her to the hospital. I’ll start the car. I know how to drive. I… I can do that.” She hurried around the rear of the car to the driver’s side.

“My thanks,” Rai said heartily. “Give me a moment to make Poppy comfortable.”

She had almost finished the bottle of water. Rai waited for Poppy to drink the last drops, then took both her hands, tenderly kissed the back of each. His lips were dry and likely unpleasant, but it was the thought that counted, and it did still make Poppy sigh.

“Rai,” she whispered, less hoarse but still weak. “I have to tell you something.” She smiled vaguely at him. At least he thought she was smiling at him. Her eyes were still unfocused, but the smile was aimed in his direction.

It gave him the strength to do what he must.

He tightened his fingers, willing her to understand.

“There is no time. Please listen.” A strange joy was welling forth inside him, as if he were filling with liquid light.

“I had thought my purpose was to make you happy, and when I could not make you happy, I did not know what to do. But now I have found it. I have found my purpose. The reason I have lived.” He pressed his dry lips to her hot forehead, lingering despite the haste crackling through him. “I love you, Poppy.”

“Rai,” she said, her cracking voice sweet as spring rain. “I… I have to tell you…”

He did not wait for her to finish. He had seen her painting; he knew what she wished to say. And he had spoken true, liar that he was. There was no time. The desert dryness was clawing at him already, leeching at his remaining energy, and he could spare none of it.

Rai gave Poppy’s hands a final squeeze, rose to his shaky feet, and staggered around to the front of the car. His strength was fading fast, the outer edges of his vision dimming, his wings trembling, but he could do this. He would do this.

He planted his hands on the hood, expanding his senses down into the engine beneath, finding the bated flow of the battery’s power.

He smiled, feeling it, though it was strange.

It should be a smile of resolve, a smile fierce and bright and defiant, but no.

It was all joy, pure and transcendent. Like he was radiating the light he felt inside.

“Rai?” Poppy’s voice was thin and frightened. “What are you doing? No. No. ”

Ah, she was brilliant, his Poppy. She saw him so clearly. “Jen,” he said with the last of his voice. “Turn the key.”

She did.

And there it was. The sluggish flow of electricity trying to move, just as before.

And just as before, he poured himself into it, joined with it, melted into it, flooded it.

He gave it everything he had left, every ounce of himself, not holding back.

The light that had filled him was overflowing, exploding, fountaining into rainbows and sparkles and glittering droplets that hung in his vision like stars.

His smile remained even as he felt his limbs and wings going numb.

The car growled to life beneath his hands. Poppy was calling his name, Jen’s voice was rising with concern, the stars in his vision were fading, but it was good. Perfect. This was what he had been meant to do, the reason for his life.

Poppy would be safe now. And nothing else mattered.

He let the darkness take him.