Removing her coat, Gram said, “Certainly explains your uninvited guests tonight.”
“Yes, the biggest surprise of the evening.” She caught Lydia’s wide-eyed glance at Gram. “Lydia says you have more to tell me.”
Gram came to her side, her hazel eyes clear. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Probably not, but putting things off never helped. “Yes.”
Gram winked at Lydia. “I think we need margaritas.”
“I sure do.” Lydia headed for the kitchen.
“That must be why I bought fresh limes today.” At the farmer’s market earlier, Joss had picked some up automatically, as she sometimes did when intuition kicked in.
“Excellent.” Linking her arm through Joss’s, Gram led her on.
Not that Joss needed further encouragement. “Please, Gram. I can’t bear to wait.”
Her grandmother patted Joss’s arm. “Do you remember when you were seven?”
“Vaguely.” Her childhood came back in a blur, fantasy mixed with reality. Her dolls had been fairy princesses riding unicorns. Dogs and cats weren’t mere family pets but dignified servants of fae royalty.
Gram smiled. “You were a special girl. You still are exceptional, of course, but as a child, your innocence was pure, and you believed without questioning.”
Believing. Joss knew where this was headed. “Yes, I had quite the imagination.”
“Call it what you will. You were favored, and still are. Because of your heritage.”
Casting a skeptical glance, Joss sat on the kitchen stool. “Oh, Gram.”
With a wicked grin, Lydia dropped the last of the ice cubes into the blender. “It’s high time you acknowledged it, Jocelyn.” Pressing the machine’s button eliminated the opportunity to argue over the loud whir. Once the mixer reduced the ice to shards, Lydia added the triple sec and tequila.
“What does it mean, exactly?” Joss asked. “I’m some sort of fairy princess?”
Rimming a glass with salt, Lydia tilted her head. “Not a princess.”
“Not even a half-blood.” Gram filled the glass and handed it to Joss.
For fortitude, she sipped. “All right. Let’s have it.”
Gram clinked her glass to Joss’s. “Do you remember the stories about Iris?”
“Yes, those were always my favorites.” Strange, Iris featured so prominently in the family history even though she lived centuries ago. “I thought she died in her mid-thirties.” Younger than Joss by almost a decade.
Lydia settled on the bar stool beside her. “The family fudged her story to cover up the truth.”
After sipping, Gram said, “Iris left the mortal world to fulfill her duty.”
The mortal world? It sounded more like a fairy tale. “Which was?”
Gram and Lydia exchanged a serious look before Gram said, “To act as a bridge between earth and the other realm.”
“What about her mortal marriage?” Joss couldn’t believe the ease with which the strange words slipped from her mouth.
Lydia sighed. “Her family never recognized the union.”
“Didn’t Iris love her husband?” She couldn’t recall his name. Must be the tequila kicking in. Not enough, so she sipped more.
“Very much,” Gram said. “She was bound by duty and left him to raise their daughter alone.”
“She left her child?” The thought astounded her. How tragic. She could relate, having only been nineteen years old when Mom left. Joss had married the year before at the tender age of eighteen, but still felt abandoned. Especially since her dad had died soon after.
“Because of Iris’s lineage,” Gram continued, “her descendants rightfully deserved certain privileges. Protection, for one.”
Lydia tapped a nail on the counter. “Their protection has carried down through generations.”
“To me?” Joss couldn’t quite grasp the concept.
Gram swept her hand in the air. “To every member of our family.”
“What about Mom?” Joss gasped. “Where did she disappear to?”
“She didn’t want to leave you,” Gram said. “I assured her we would look after you.” She leveled a serious look at Joss. “You understand she had no other option. They’d already killed your father.”
Joss’s breath escaped her. “What? No. Dad died after a massive heart attack. Everyone said so. Every one of you.” They’d lied. Betrayed her.
“We couldn’t tell you then.” Gram’s voice strained with emotion.
Lydia grew more somber. “Your mother left this world to draw focus away from you. She hoped your mundane, non-magical lifestyle would deter any would-be assassin from The Underworld.”
She couldn’t have heard right. Anger welled up. “Who murdered Dad?” What gave them the right to tear her family’s lives apart? “And why?” The last word came out as a whisper.
“A certain group of demons bears a grudge against us. We’d hoped they’d satisfied their need for revenge, but unfortunately not.”
The Underworld. Demons. Dread crept over her like footsteps across a grave. “Do you mean John? They killed him too?” It couldn’t be.
“We couldn’t stop them.” Sorrow filled Gram’s face. “I’m sorry, Jocelyn.” Gram laid her hand atop Joss’s and squeezed. “I came tonight to warn you. You may be in terrible danger.”
She gulped her drink. It would take awhile to process all this.
“I can’t believe it.” An ironic laugh escaped Joss. “Guess I chose the right costume.” A golden goddess. What a joke. Too bad the joke was on her. What if she were to fall in love again? Now that the demons who’d murdered her family had set sights on her, would they target him too? Her head swam, drowning in what-ifs and fear.
Leaning forward, Gram set her gaze on Joss. “Do you recall the night you stole away from home at midnight? To dance with your imaginary friends?”
The memory, repressed for so many years, returned with clarity. The glowing figures flitting in orchestrated sequence, too beautiful to be real.
“I remember it as a dream. A nightmare, honestly.” After the stray coyotes crept out of the shadows, snarling with fangs bared.
“Certainly for your parents, it was a nightmare. They found you in the morning, sleeping safe and sound.”
“Inside the fairy ring.” Joss remembered distinctly now. The glimmering lights guided her inside the circle, and the wild creatures couldn’t follow. Neither could she leave the protection of the ring, and so had fallen asleep. “Because I’m part of their family?” Saying it sounded ridiculous, though she’d always secretly suspected it.
“In the truest meaning of the word.”
“I can’t be related to a goddess.” Yet it would explain why Joss had always seemed different than others. Separate. And had been aware of the fae, even if none of her friends had seen them.
“You are.” Lydia raised her glass. “We all are, sweetie.”
“And the fae are protecting us?” At Gram and Lydia’s nods, Joss went on. “Is that why beings from The Underworld are surfacing? The man, or whatever he is, from the party is a demon, isn’t he? Why Boiling