A Clover and a Bee

It’s a windless day, cool and still. Steam rises off the geothermal lake, carrying with it the faint smell of sulfur.

Luna is nearly done with her twenty-fifth book. She can hardly believe that she has written this many. At the beginning of her career, a chapter could take her days to write. Now she can finish a book in a couple of sittings. The book--titled The Queen’s Gambit --is loosely based on Bastian’s quest to find his daughter. Luna had to fill in a lot of gaps, but she managed to cobble together a strong plot based on her brief conversations with the mage as well as what Lark told her later about seemingly prescient dreams she had experienced. She was surprised when she learned that her daughter dreamed about Dom and Bastian’s adventures in the fae realm. Luna sometimes wonders if there’s something special about Lark, something otherworldly like there is about Elysia. But Lark appears to be nothing but normal other than her brief brush with the fantastical and ethereal. Despite the plot holes Luna clumsily covered and the strange motivations on the part of the novel’s antagonist, The ...

Sheba has been very lethargic recently, worryingly so. She sleeps constantly, and moving seems to strain her. Quentin--her de facto caretaker, despite Sheba’s obvious preference for Lark--has started to grapple with the idea she might need to be put down soon. Thus, he isn’t surprised when one night, Sheba begins to moan and pant. This is it , he thinks grimly, I guess I should call the vet.  

Everyone stares at Lark, waiting for her to speak. It’s the most powerful she has ever felt. She could draw this out for as long as she wants. But she won’t. She opens her mouth to speak: “Her name is--” “Wait,” Dom says quickly, “Don’t tell us. Not until we’re ready to go.”

Lark rolls the apple around in her hand, examining it from every angle. She looks up from it skeptically. “How is this supposed to prove that you’re a mage?”

Lark has dreamt about chess every night for the past week. In the dreams, she stands fixed to a spot, unable to move for what feels like hours at a time, her only company the unspeaking fairy on the opposite side. It’s becoming tiresome.

It’s the evening before Leisure Day, and Lark is free from school for the next three days. She leaves Nature and Nurture Learning Academy with a backpack full of homework, all of which she intends to ignore. Long weekends--especially ones that include a day specifically devoted to leisure--are for play, not work. She happily rides her bike through the town square, mentally planning the weekend’s activities as she pedals.

Luna grips the armrest on the passenger's side of the family's SUV. Lydia has asked her to teach her to drive, and it's proving to be an anxiety-inducing endeavor. "Don't ride the break and the gas at the same time," she snaps. "I'm not, mom!" "Yes you are! This isn't a standard--you only need to use your right foot." Lydia rolls her eyes and sucks her teeth. She presses down on the gas, determined to prove that she’s not as incapable as her mother seems to think she is. "Slow down," Luna shrieks, "you're going to hit Lark!"

"I can't believe this is happening," Luna smiles weakly at her husband, "it seems like they were babies just yesterday." "I know," Quentin agrees, "time makes fools of us all." It's finally time for the twins to age up to teens. Luke and Lydia are thrilled, but Luna can't bring herself to accept that her children are so close to leaving the house. Just four years of high school, and then they'll be off to start their lives. Luna snuggles into Quentin’s arms as she tries to acclimate to the thought of being one step closer to an empty nest.

It’s an early weekday morning, and the Bees are awake and buzzing around the house: the children are getting ready for school, Luna is quickly making a somewhat healthy breakfast, and Quentin is on a conference call with the director of an upcoming film for which he composed the score. Lark is the last child to get to use the bathroom, the privilege of being the youngest and easiest to push around. She’s been dancing cross-legged all morning, waiting for one of her older siblings to take mercy on her. The relief at finally being able to use the facilities is unquantifiable. But when she flushes the toilet, it begins to overflow. "Poop," she mutters to herself. This is the fourth time this week this has happened to her.

Polaris studies her oldest granddaughter. Lydia looks unbearably like Quentin, but her voice reminds her so much of Luna when she was a child: surprisingly deep for a girl, with an intelligent sounding timber. “I don’t know if mom told you, but I’m on student council,” Lydia brags, “I beat out Anatol Svard for president., and his parents paid for actual printed campaign posters.” “Wow,” Polaris replies, “that’s impressive.” “And I have the highest grades in class.” “Is that so?” Lydia deflates a little. “Well, I’m tied with Luke. But my extracurriculars should count for more! He’s just in the stupid chess club, but I’m president of student council.” “I see. Are you always this competitive?” Lydia blinks, “Life is a competition, and I’m going to win.” Polaris smirks, “that’s the spirit.”

The last time Polaris Bee had seen her daughter, Luna had been in tears. She had just informed her mother that she was moving across the globe with her boyfriend, a man who--while she liked well enough--Polaris hardly knew. Like any mother, Polaris’ first instinct was to protect her daughter. She asked all the questions that Luna should have asked and answered herself before she decided on this move: “Are you sure he’s the one? Do you think you should consider options closer to home in case it doesn’t work out with him? Will Aurora Skies be accepting to someone who looks like you (or Quentin for that matter)?”  Luna responded with a single sentence that has stuck with Polaris for all these years: “How could you possibly even think you know what’s right for me when all you’ve done is endanger me?” She followed up by letting loose years of grievances on her mother, accusing Polaris of a number of misdeeds: jeopardizing  the lives of her children with her indecisions and ...

“I don’t understand why you brought that filthy dog into our house,” Human Female wrinkles her nose at Human Male. “‘That dog’ has a name, and it’s Sheba,” Human Male runs his hands through Sheba’s fur, “and I adopted her because homes with dogs are statistically safer from break ins.” “I don’t think a dog could have stopped,” she stops mid-sentence and yawns loudly before continuing, “Mercury from waltzing into Lark’s room.” Human Female’s eyes are bloodshot, and there are bags under them. Every movement seems to demand a great amount of her energy. “I’m going to train her to guard Lark,” Human Male says, “and she’s a good guard dog. Aren’t you, Sheba? Aren’t you the best guard dog?”

Mercury leans forward in his seat, his head in his hands. The back of his skull aches where the bat had struck him. Elysia, Crimson, and Luna watch him cautiously, but he ignores his audience. He would prefer not to make eye contact with them. He had made a lot of noise when Quentin hit him: his body landed on creaky floorboards, the resulting thud echoing through the house. The twins, sound sleepers, didn’t wake up, but Lark started bawling. For the first time--and hopefully the last--her father scared her. Mercury was conscious, but stunned, when Luna burst into Lark’s room, having been drawn in by the ruckus. She helped him downstairs and to the couch, and she insisted on not calling the police (“Mercury would just run away before they got here. It’s not like we can stop him,” a prediction Mercury confirms). “Can I get you anything, Mercury?” Luna asks as she crouches down next to him. “Coffee. Black.” Luna raises an eyebrow at the entitlement in his voice, but she compli...

Luna isn’t exactly shocked when she sees her little sister’s Simstagram post: a glass of wine with a fittingly somber black and white filter, followed by the description “should have seen this coming. #cursed” According to their brother Solaris, Nova’s boyfriend Mercury disappeared, leaving Nova no explanation for where he went. While Luna feels for her sister, she isn’t exactly surprised. Mercury didn’t seem like the reliable type the few times she met him. In contrast, Luna’s life is quite boring. She’s fine with it, though. She might be nothing more than a baby warden right now, but at least her life is uneventful. She’s more than happy to settle for uneventful--she’s seen the other side of that coin and she doesn’t care for it.

Luna managed to published her fantasy novel-- The Cursed Fae --before she gave birth to Luke and Lydia. And now Crimson is greedily devouring it while reclining comfortably in front the fireplace at Elysia’s house.  It’s been awhile since he’s had his sutures removed and he’s completely capable of taking care of himself at this point. But at night--when Clover’s absence is felt the strongest--Crimson texts Elysia and asks if he can go to her place, where there are no memories of his sister. She always says yes. Even if they aren’t in the same room, it’s comforting knowing someone is nearby. Tonight, he is reading while Elysia takes a long bath, part of her nightly ritual. He’s so engrossed in the book that he doesn’t notice the bedroom door open, or Elysia’s footsteps behind him.

Luna and Quentin cast long shadows as they stand on the beach. They decided to get married barefoot, next to the sea. It might not have been the most pragmatic choice--even though it is summer, the breeze blowing off the water is chilly and bitter--but it certainly looks romantic

The town is shocked. There’s never been anything like this. Aurora Skies is renowned for it’s lack of violence. Most police officers don’t even carry guns. There have been a total of something like two murders in the past ten years. And in one night, that record is met. The House of Ragnarock and Roll is closed off, the door covered with police tape. The Aurora Skies Police Department, unused to such violent crimes, has to call in forensic experts from other sectors. Even with the extra help, it’s difficult to piece together everything from that night. It doesn’t help that the two key witnesses were drugged. Two days after the murders, Quentin sits with a police officer in the local hospital’s cafe “I understand this is frustrating, Mr. Parker, but I just need you to go through what you saw one last time.”

Clover Byrd is cautiously optimistic. It hadn’t been that hard to lure her prey to her. She could probably do this for a living, actually, because so far, her plan was going off without a hitch. Well, she had to modify her plan just a bit. But discounting that, it was absolutely definitely positively going off without a hitch. Oh, and her good-for-nothing brother wasn’t answering his goddamn phone, but that’s not the worst thing in the world. She has another---she looks at her phone--another six hours before anyone is likely to even begin suspecting anything. It shouldn’t take that long, right? There were only two of them. She was really hoping Luna would have a large wedding, complete with an entire swarm of Bees. She could have just torched the place, and been done with them in one fell swoop. But she’ll have to settle for this. Her dad probably thought she could never do this. He’d always preferred Crimson, his precious son who would carry on his legacy. What was it he ...

The sun feels weaker in Aurora Skies than anywhere else Elysia has ever been, but she’s determined to find the warmest spot on the beach so she can sunbathe. It’s a ritual, something she does whenever her life feels like something is going terribly wrong. It makes it pretty hard to cope in the winter. Things are looking up, though. Elysia found a beautiful home in the center of town to rent, and she got a job as a receptionist at the spa. It was the only place she could find that would overlook her damning job history and pending criminal charges. And her house is close enough for her to walk to work, which is good because she doesn’t have a car or a bike. Everything’s fine. Just fine.