Sprite

Norah stared at her mother and Neistah. “You know each other?” she asked.

“We’ve met,” Jim replied dryly, edging Neistah away so he could help Miriam back to her feet. She still looked pale and in shock. “I think we’d better continue this discussion inside. Not you,” he said to Pup, who had come up to stand beside Norah. “Not you, either,” he said to Mack and his men. “Get back to your posts.”

Unsure if he was being reprimanded for bringing in the sprites, Mack hesitated. A rumbling in the earth indicated someone was approaching fast. Adam rode in a cloud of dust almost up to the front steps, pulling his mount to a quick halt and sliding down in the middle of the guards. Mack shook his head ruefully, used to Adam’s antics. He grabbed for the horse’s dangling reins.

“Whoa!” Adam stopped short, gazing at the two newcomers who stood with his parents and Norah on the wide front porch. “Are those Sprites?” His eyes snagged on Valin. “They look like Norah.”

The other changelings followed his gaze from the tall red-haired sprite to the changeling girl with the same delicate fins, the same webbed fingers. The resemblance to Norah was uncanny. Pup’s eyes narrowed speculatively.

Valin threw up his hands, smiling widely. “Not me!” he protested. Everybody’s gaze shifted instantly to Neistah.

“Get inside!” Adam’s father snarled, all out of patience. “Mack, take care of the horse. Go!” he added, when the changeling guard just gaped at him. Jim ushered his family, and the two sprites, into the house and closed the door firmly behind him. Rumors would be flying all over the compound by evening, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that.

Neistah remembered the room Jim brought them to all too clearly. It looked different now, less imposing. He leaned against a shelf of books. “Where’s the old man?” he asked lazily.

“Papa? You knew Papa too?” Norah asked, amazed. “How did you know my Papa?”

“He’s dead,” Jim replied. “That happens to people when they get old.” He stared at Neistah, who realized that Miriam had been looking at him in disbelief also. Neistah appeared no different than he had sixteen years ago.

“We don’t age,” Neistah replied a little defensively. He had nothing to apologize to these people for.

“Will that happen to Norah?”

Norah’s head came up sharply. “What do you mean?” she asked her father. ‘What does he mean?’ she sent silently to Neistah.

“I don’t know.” Neistah answered Jim’s question first. “It’s too soon to tell. Probably.”

Valin sat in one of the big armchairs across from Jim’s desk and hooked one long leg over the armrest. He watched Miriam avidly as she fidgeted beside Jim, casting her lot with her husband while she stared just as avidly at Neistah across the room. She had his red hair, diluted through generations of human contact to a coppery color reminiscent of blood. His own bright hair glowed like fire. It was interesting that both Norah and her human brother Adam shared the darker, richer red of a banked fire. His interest sharpened as the young boy, too full of energy to stay seated, bounced out of his chair and confronted Valin directly.

“What are you?” Adam asked bluntly. “Are you a Sprite like Norah? I know about Sprites. Mama has a book.”

“Does she?” Valin gazed thoughtfully at Miriam, who was paying no attention to his side conversation with her son. Her gaze remained fixed hungrily on Neistah. Valin tskd. That was not a good sign for the woman. It meant she was still affected by Neistah’s presence. He turned back to the boy. “Well, then, yes, I suppose I am.”

“Why did you return? Don’t think I’m going to let you take Norah away.” Jim steepled his fingers, elbows propped on the desk in front of him, and stared hard at Neistah.

Neistah straightened up in a fluid move that had Miriam taking in a quick, surprised gasp. He stalked over to the desk, smiling wickedly. “If I had known about her, I would have come for her long since,” he said, leaning his hands on the desk and locking eyes with Jim. “Which one of you taught her to cut off her webbing?” His fingers, spread wide, gleamed faintly green where the webbing stretched, deceptively delicate, between each one.

’Neistah!’ Norah sent, horrified. ‘I told you it was for my own protection!’

‘You were a child!’ Neistah shot back. ‘I hold them responsible.’

‘What does it matter? That’s all in the past. Neistah, I don’t understand. Why are you so angry? Did you know me when I was a baby too?’

Valin’s laughter rang out in the silent room. “Your parents haven’t been entirely truthful with you, grandchild,” he said out loud. “Your little brother figured it out, didn’t you?” He patted Adam’s back.

“Uh . . .” Adam looked embarrassed.

“I’m her father,” Jim insisted. “You just supplied the seed. You were never there when she was born, you had no idea what we did to make sure she had a normal life.”

“’What?’” Norah blasted the word inside and out. Neistah and Valin both winced with the strength of her sending.

Neistah grinned, showing teeth. “Turns out you’re not Valin’s after all, except indirectly. You’re mine.” ‘Hello, daughter.’

It made sense. Deep down, Norah knew she couldn’t bear so much similarity with the sprites just because of a little faerie blood in her ancestry. But still. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I am now. I didn’t know Miriam was your mother until just a few minutes ago.’ Neistah nudged her, grinning wryly. ‘Are you disappointed?’

No, she wasn’t. That was the thing. It explained so much. She glanced at her parents, who stood stock still behind Papa’s big old desk, holding onto each other for support. She gave them an encouraging smile to let them know she wasn’t upset. She probably should be. But it was such a relief to know for certain that she was not a freak, not all alone. She really was a part of Neistah’s bright world. She wanted to tell him so, but his grin softened into a genuine smile. He had already heard her thoughts.

Adam broke the tension. “So who are you, then?” he asked Valin. “Norah’s other Grandpa? You sure don’t look like a Grandpa.”

Valin stretched, towering easily over the assembled group as he stood up. “I’m Neistah’s father, so, yes, that would make me Norah’s grandfather. Yours too, many generations back.”

“Really?” Adam bounced with happiness. “That’s great! Do you think I’ll get fins like Norah?”

Valin shook his head gravely. “Unfortunately, that’s not possible. Your blood comes from your mother’s line, but so long ago that there’s only a trace, about as much as Neistah and I have of human blood in our veins. So, family, but no more.”

“Wait a minute! You’re telling me Miriam has some of your kind of blood in her veins?” Jim asked incredulously. “And that you—two—have human blood in yours?”

“Not much,” Neistah muttered. He was uneasy with the idea to begin with, and wished Valin hadn’t mentioned it at all. The less these people knew about him, the better.

“We obviously have a lot to talk about, but let’s--,” Jim began, when Miriam cut him off.

“Why did you leave?” she blurted out, staring desperately at Neistah.

“I--,” Neistah looked away. If he had known about Norah, he would have come back for her and taken her away to faerie. He would not have stayed. “I was bored,” he said flatly. It was the truth. Bored, and lonely for his own kind. Miriam had been a pleasant distraction, nothing more. He met her eyes and saw the first stirrings of anger there, reminding him of the old Miriam, before she became infatuated with him.

“Jim’s right. He has always been Norah’s father in ways you could never be. I’m glad you went away. You didn’t ruin my life, or Norah’s either. You’re just somebody I used to know,” Miriam said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “I don’t understand why you came back now.”

Neistah didn’t either. Valin smoothly interjected. “Your land is being threatened,” he said. “We have come to help.”

X x X x X x X x X x X

When the meeting was over, Norah escaped through the back door, intending to go to the barn and visit the horses. She needed some time to herself to think. Neistah and Valin had grudgingly been invited to stay, so that they could discuss the current threat her other grandfather, Alan Avery, posed to not only them but to all the changelings in the forest. Norah got a thrill when she realized that Valin truly was her grandfather, and not merely some distant ancestor, although he was that, too. It still confused her, how it was all possible.

Pup pushed himself away from the side of the shed where he had been waiting. “What was all that about?” he asked, sliding easily into step beside Norah.

“Neistah is my father,” Norah mumbled, without looking at him.

“That’s—wonderful!” Pup took her hand and turned her to face him. “I was worried that he would be competition for me. Your father, huh?” He grinned. “That’s one thing I wouldn’t have guessed.”

They continued walking. Pup reached for her hand again. Norah let him. Pup was warm and concerned and human, despite his mutation. She wasn’t as shocked as she might have been when Neistah had told her mother he had left her because he was bored. Norah had lived among the sprites long enough to understand their casual attitude towards sex. Relationships were a different matter. Neistah still wore his mother’s weave. He had not yet declared himself tied to any one woman. With a guilty flush, Norah reached up to grip the teardrop pendant that hung around her neck, letting go of Pup’s hand in the process. Breyan had not yet chosen, either. But he had as much as told her he would wear her weave, if she offered.

Roselle met them at the barn. “Pup,” she greeted him. “Have you heard from Will yet? Is he coming?”

“I haven’t.” Pup shook his head. “I left word with Earl, though. He’ll find you, don’t worry.”

Roselle looked relieved.

“Norah. A word.” Jim beckoned to her, and Norah excused herself to go to him. He hugged her, not saying anything. Norah felt his emotions course through her, and her heart swelled with love for this man who had raised her and loved her as his own.

“Daddy,” she whispered, eliciting a wracking shudder from the older man. “I love you.”

“I know,” he whispered back, his voice barely registering against her shoulder. “But I’m going to lose you, just when I got you back.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Norah said, but she wasn’t sure she was telling the truth. As much as she loved her parents and her home, she didn’t know if she could live here anymore. If she was half-human, she was also half-sprite, and that other half called insistently to her. It soothed her father, though, to hear her deny it out loud.