Hidden Hope (Hidden Saga Book 3) (2 page)

Today

I pulled into my spot in the parking lot of the Magnolia Sugar Tea Company, the nerves in my stomach boiling like the sweet tea brewing inside the sprawling white building. Today was a big day for all of us. Needing a momentary escape, I hit the music app on my phone.

The sound of Nox’s unearthly voice flowed from the speaker, filling the car’s interior, and like a junkie getting a fix, I relaxed. It was impossible to feel bad while hearing something so beautiful.

Out in L.A., I had fought against being subjected to Nox’s singing—I had no defense against his musical glamour. But now, forced to be away from him, I had to take what I could get. I found myself turning to his songs, his videos, even interviews with him on You Tube, more and more. They were so addictive, they were almost as good as the real thing. Almost. A song couldn’t hold you, kiss you—

A car pulled in and parked beside me, reminding me where I was and what I was supposed to be doing. I wrenched myself from the hypnotic memory of his kisses and opened my car door, stepping back into the real world.  

It had taken nearly the whole summer to get the factory set up and running, but the abandoned Rebel Cola bottling plant across from the First Baptist Church on Main Street had been transformed and repurposed and was once again functional and employing many of the citizens of Deep River, Mississippi.

A good number of them had turned out to help celebrate the grand opening today, which wasn’t surprising. In a town with three stoplights and 3600 residents, there wasn’t that much else going on. Plus, we were passing out free tea samples, and people couldn’t seem to get enough.

Grandma Neena greeted me as I stepped onto the factory floor, lifting one hand toward the balloons and the Grand Opening banner stretched between two giant vats. She rubbed my arm. “It’s looking good, darlin’. You’ve done a fine job.”

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it, my belly tumbling in dread of the speech I was expected to make in a half hour.

“We’ve
done it—together. I’d never have made it if you hadn’t laid the groundwork while I was scrambling around L.A. looking for Emmy.”

She puffed a dismissive noise but blushed as she grinned. “It gave me something better to do than worry about
you
every minute. Everything’s ready for the party. As for production, we’re running low on saol water. We’ve got enough for this batch, but no more.”

“I know. I’m meeting Lad later for a delivery.”

Her face softened in sympathy. “You going to be all right with that?”

I met her questioning eyes. “Yes. We’re fine. We’re... friends now.” My mind flashed back to our conversation on the private plane on the way home from L.A., but I snatched it back to the here and now. I couldn’t go there. I’d never get through the day if I allowed myself to dwell on what he’d said that night.

Still wearing that soulful look, Grandma nodded. “Speaking of friends... Emmy and Shay still planning to come today?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the factory’s front doors. “Should be here any minute. And Mom just called.” I grimaced. “She’s on her way.”

Things were weird with Mom and me. As soon as I had gotten home I’d tried talking to her about Davis—as much as I could without revealing the secret—but she refused to listen. Of course. He was rumored to have the strongest Sway of all the Elven people, and she was totally under his glamour.

She
seemed
so happy. I wished I could just let her be. If only her new fiancé, my biological father as it turned out, wasn’t the leader of the Dark Elves, maybe I could have.

The heavy steel door creaked open, flooding the interior with bright sunlight, and for an instant I was filled with irrational hope of seeing a six-foot-four, hazel-eyed god enter the manufacturing plant instead of my mother or my two best friends. Maybe Nox managed to get away from Los Angeles after all?

One decidedly short silhouette bounced into view, followed by another, slightly taller and curvier one. The door closed behind them, and I smiled and crossed the factory floor to greet Emmy and Shay.

“Wow, girl. This is amazing. You’re like, for real.”

Hugging Shay, I said, “Thanks. It’s getting there. I need this place to be basically running itself by the time school starts, so we’re not quite done.”

“Is it selling yet?” Emmy asked, wandering over to inspect the nearest production line.

Retro shaped glass bottles with their magnolia-themed labels rolled by on a conveyor belt, heading for the machine that would affix caps to the top before they were placed into shipping cartons and loaded onto delivery trucks.

“Yep. The first shipment went out to stores three days ago. I hear it’s doing well so far.”

I had started selling my own special recipe of sweet tea this past spring out of desperation, when our family land was threatened by an IRS debt. First at Deep River’s main street diner The Skillet. Then, nervous as all get out, I had taken it to the manager of our local Food Star, where Nox had
persuaded
the man to give it a try.

But it was Lad’s contribution—the addition of Elven saol water to sweeten it and enhance the nutritional content—that made the tea something truly special and turned it into a beverage line stocked at more than a hundred Food Star grocery stores across the Southeast. If it kept selling well, the plan was to expand the brand nationwide.

“Is your mom coming with her hot man?” Shay’s shoulder bumped mine in a teasing gesture.

“Ew, Shay. Don’t be gross. He’s so old,” Emmy said, cutting her eyes in my direction.

Neither of my friends had any idea just
how
old Davis actually was—two hundred fifty-five years, according to Vancia. Like my friends, I’d only seen him on TV, but I had to admit he was very handsome, and of course, he looked young. He was Elven after all.

I smiled my silent thanks to Emmy. Naturally, I couldn’t confide everything to her about my “real” dad—but on our plane trip back from Los Angeles, I had told her about the shocking discovery I’d made—that the father I grew up with, Michael Carroll, wasn’t my biological father, and that my mom’s “new” love was actually her
old
lover
and
my father.

“That doesn’t change who you are. You’re still the same girl I’ve known since preschool,” she’d said, trying to make me feel better. 

The problem was, it kind of
did
change who I was. When I left on my rescue mission to California, I believed I was a quarter Elven on my mom’s side. As it turned out, I was only a quarter human. What’s more—my Elven sperm donor was a Dark Elf—
the
Dark Elf, in fact. Or at least he had been until Nox showed up and displaced him as the ruler of the Dark Court.

I’d been in sort of a tailspin ever since. It was wonderful to be back home with my best friends again. But my mind kept drifting to my new friends, like Gigi and Kim and Bonnie, back in the fan pods in L.A. I hadn’t been able to help them. I’d felt guilty about it every day since leaving them behind, but what could I really do? I’d barely escaped with my own life, and it was only because of Lad and Vancia’s intervention I’d been able to bring Emmy home.

I was confident the girls in Nox’s fan pod weren’t being used or mistreated. I couldn’t say the same for the ones unfortunate enough to be under the control of Vallon Foster and Reggie Dillon and the countless other celebrities who were, unbeknownst to their human fans, actually Dark Elves.

“So where’s
your
man?” Emmy asked with a silly eyebrow waggle. She had been positively gleeful when I’d told her Nox and I had gotten together in L.A., gloating unmercifully and claiming she’d called it from the first night Nox and I had met at the ballpark. 

“He can’t make it. He’s still in L.A.” The dejection in my voice was impossible to hide. I missed him. I’d been home for a month, and we’d hardly been able to talk since then. I understood, but the sudden separation after such intense togetherness—and all we went through together—was hard to take. “He’s hoping to visit soon.”

“Well, he better get his tight booty back here quick, or Mr. Hot Homeschooler’s gonna move back in,” she teased.

Lad.
She’d met him on the plane trip, of course. And of course, she was instantly fascinated. In spite of all my protests, Emmy insisted Lad still wanted me.

“The way he looked at you,” she said, shaking her head. “Like he never wanted to let you out of his sight again.”

“He’s
engaged,
remember?” I rolled my eyes at her. “Besides, there’s no
room
for him in my life, even if he did want to move back in. I’m with Nox now.”

“Okay, okay. Whatever you say, but it’s not over till the wedding bells ring.”

“What wedding bells?” Shay returned to our group, holding three paper cups filled with tea. “Who’s getting married?”

“My mom,” I said at the same time Emmy blurted, “Ryann’s
ex
.”

“Ooh, that’s hard,” she sympathized. “I can’t stand it when Tisha even
looks
at Lance.”

Shay and her major crush Lance were dating big-time now. She offered a cup to me.

“Oh—no thanks. I’m kinda burned out on it, you know? It’s like when you work at a donut shop, and you can’t stand the thought of eating donuts. Too much of a good thing.”

“Well, I love donuts,” Emmy said. She took the cup from my hand. “And I
love
this stuff. Give it to me. I’ll drink it.”

I laughed, watching her drain the cup. “I think you’re my best customer.”

Emmy seemed really happy since returning to Deep River. She’d immediately hooked up with Jake McKee, and she even appeared to be getting over the celebrity obsession thing lately. Of course, people here treated her like she was a celebrity herself since she’d spent time in Vallon’s fan pod this summer and met lots of famous people. That suited Emmy just fine.

“I only wish I could remember more of it,” she’d admitted to me on that late night plane trip.

I was glad she couldn’t. I almost wished
I
could forget what I knew about the fan pods, especially when I felt helpless to do anything about it here, so far removed from the glittering, dangerous world of the Dark Elves. That’s the way Nox wanted it—me here in Mississippi, far away from the center of the Dark Court’s power in California.

“I’ll handle it Ryann. I want you to be safe and promise me you’ll stay out of it,” he’d said during our last phone conversation. “Trust me, okay?”

“I do. I will,” I’d promised.

The crowd inside the tea plant was beginning to thicken, and I was obliged to greet and chat with all the people who’d come to wish me well or thank me and Grandma for creating a desperately needed new source of employment in our sleepy little town.

Mr. Marsden, the grocery store manager, was there of course. As were my old Sunday school teacher and Dena from The Skillet, Grandma’s bridge club and quilting group, and so many of my friends from school and around town that we were probably violating some kind of fire department occupancy code.

“I’m so proud of you Ryann,” my English teacher, Mrs. Wordle said as she sipped from her cup of tea. She added with a wink, “But don’t think I’m going to let you slide in British Lit this fall just because you’re running a business now.”

“Oh, I know. I doubt if you would’ve let Jane Austen slide. Enjoy the reception, okay? I see my mom coming in.”

“Congratulations honey.”

I smiled at her and made my way toward the entrance where Mom had finally arrived, barely in time for my speech. She was alone, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Maybe he had a change of plans.

I was in no hurry to meet my “father” in person and certainly not in front of nearly everyone I’d ever known. Besides, I’d spotted Daddy slipping in a few minutes ago, and I had no idea how he’d handle a face-to-face meeting with Mom’s new husband-to-be.

“Hi Mom.” I hugged her and accepted her latest round of congratulations and happy tears.

“Baby, this is amazing. My daughter is a business tycoon.”

“Um, hardly. Not yet, anyway. Give me a couple weeks,” I joked. “Go ahead and get some tea and cookies and stuff. Grandma’s over there, and I’ll be back in a few minutes after I welcome everyone.”

She poked her glossy bottom lip out. “I’m so sorry Davis isn’t here to see this. His plane was delayed by weather. But he wants to take us out tonight to celebrate. We’re going to meet him in Oxford.”

I froze in place. After an awkward pause I found my voice. “Okay. Sure. Sounds good.”

It was inevitable, I guess, that I would have to see him. I’d have been a lot
less
freaked out about it if I knew how much he really knew about my Los Angeles adventures.

Lad swore to me that Vancia was on our side, that she’d never tell her adoptive father how I’d infiltrated fan pods and attempted to free Emmy, that I’d essentially worked against him.