Page 55 of Light

I almost laugh. Lux definitely wouldn’t object to the latter, since the famous hedgehog stars in one of the few video games we let him play, but any claim I have on mirth has been crushed by a massive wrecking ball called anxiety. “You insisted…why?” I demand to Angie, hoping that she’s still listening. The woman hasn’t been able to rip her eyes off the triumvirate of bliss taking place inside the elevator. “What did you feel, Angie?”

I don’t bother with asking if she felt it. No way would she allow Lux to violate a directive from Reece and me unless her powered perception had kicked into high gear. Reece, with his face already etched in the same grim admission, scoots around to directly block Angelique’s view of the kids.

“We need answers now, Angie.” A massive tick stretches against his jaw, and bright-blue sparks start popping between his fingertips. “As you can see, the damage might already have begun.”

“Oui.” The woman’s face crunches with deep emotions. “I…I do see.” She runs a taut hand across the top of her head. “But…but how is this possible?” And then digs her fingers in and yanks off her wig completely, exposing the purple and gold veins that are pulsing brighter than the jumbotron at a Lakers game. “How…is…”

“What?” I stomp in, butting my shoulder to Reece’s bicep in order to crowd in on my friend. My friend. Never did I ever suppose I’d use that phrase to qualify my relationship to Angelique LaSalle, but the woman has earned her second chance on Team Bolt—and in this moment is solidifying a permanent spot there, as well. Our fate—and more direly, that of our son’s—might rest in the hidden truths she can share. “How is what possible?” I order while wrapping my hands around her forearms. “Angie, you have to tell us what you’re sensing.” I get down a painful swallow before amending, “You have to tell us who you’re sensing.”

She lifts her glowing head. The electricity in her veins is racing. “I…do not know…if I can.”

Reece lunges in. Looms over her like a medieval interrogator, complete with the I’m-going-to-chop-off-your-feet glare. “Not. Acceptable.”

Angie trembles. I hate myself for being grateful for it, but I am. She possesses our only insight into all this. No time for squeamish hesitations, despite how the woman hasn’t lost an inch of her contorted expression as she pulls in a huge breath.

And utters exactly what I prayed she wouldn’t.

“This—this is Faline’s energy. Both of those girls are drenched in it.”

Then everything I didn’t expect.

“But Faline…she is not here.”

Reece jerks his head, channeling complete shock. “What the hell does that mean?” he dictates. “What’s going on here?”

But they’re not the questions he’s really intending. Queries that must be vocalized if we expect them to be answered.

I suck it up, gripping Angelique tighter. “Is Lux in any danger from them? Can you tell? And…and what the hell do they want from him?”

Angie raises her gaze to fully meet mine. There’s still a grimace across her mouth, but I now catch the glimmer of tiny magenta lights in the backs of her eyes. Glowing roses of…

Joy.

Happiness.

Hope.

Beaming at me with an energy I readily recognize. The same sweet, honest rapture I felt the moment Lux joined hands with the twins. An elation that has me releasing her and then transferring my hold to Reece, cupping my solar flares against his neon rods before yanking him back around to behold our celestial gift of a kid again.

Our kid, still fused with his two new friends. Who’s now trading wide smiles with both of them, which light them all up from the inside out. If someone snapped a picture of this right now, they’d be accused of using the “fairy magic” filter, since all three of them remind me of every incarnation of the elusive sidhe fae. That analogy and the fear of Angie’s revelation should have me shivering at biblical proportions, but all I can keep thinking is that this triumvirate of merriment is completely right. Totally destined. Utterly meant to be.

Fate backs up my instincts with a visual fist pump in the form of the new energy between the children. No more electric rainbows up and down their arms or giggly smiles across their lips. The arcs of multicolored light have flattened out, becoming the sizzling sides of an equilateral triangle. And the mixed colors? They’ve blended to the point of being a silver-gold mix, as radiant and magical as the gleam of dawn on the ocean.

But all of that’s not the most wondrous aspect of this sight.

That’s all inside the kids themselves—and what they’re giving each other.

Thoughtful nods. Contemplative head tilts. Even a few eyebrow drops, as if needing to absorb every last drop of what they’re experiencing.

Or…hearing?

“Holy Christ.” Reece’s rough blurt is the perfect verbalization on behalf of us both. “What are they… Are those three…?”

“Communicating.” Sawyer, as so many times before, to the rescue—though his statement is serrated with enough awe to match Reece’s. “Sure as hell what it looks like, gang.”

It’s the ideal segue into a few solemn moments from the three of us witnessing the three of them take part in a language we’re only able to see—but in a thousand ways are already feeling. Sensing. Experiencing.

No. This is crazy.