Chapter three

Audrey laid on her bedroom floor with her ear pressed against the air vent. Holding her breath, she strained to make out the conversation that carried upward from the den below.

The only thing Welkin had said as they shepherded her home from the forest was, "I must speak with your grandparents at once." At the time, Audrey was too stunned to ask questions. But now that she was stuck waiting in her room while her family had an emergency meeting about her, she was kicking herself for freezing up.

Downstairs, the conversation between Welkin and her grandparents sounded serious and tense, but no matter how hard she tried, Audrey couldn't make out what they were saying. With a sigh of defeat, she rolled onto her back. She raised her hands in front of her face and turned them slowly from side to side, looking for some clue to explain what had happened. Even though her ex-girlfriend's note had burned up into ash, Audrey didn't seem to be injured. The skin of her hands was completely unmarred by the strange, dazzling flames. In fact, the whole thing had happened so fast, Audrey wasn't sure if she'd felt anything at all.

Was it fire? she wondered. Or was it something else?

Whatever it was, it had been exceptionally bright. Everytime she closed her eyes, she could still see the brilliant flash of it burning behind her eyelids.

Did it come from me?

The sound of footsteps ascending the creaky old stairs made her jump. She quickly scrambled off the floor and threw herself down into the old armchair next to her bedroom window where she liked to read. A dogeared novel sat on the window sill, but instead of picking it up, Audrey stared out into the backyard and waited. The yard backed up against the woods, and in the encroaching dark she could see the flickering lights of faeries as they moved between the trees. When she was small, Audrey and her friends would spend the twilight hours of summer following those magical little lights, trying to catch them in jars as if they were fireflies. That is, until the day she finally caught one. She still had a scar where its tiny faerie fangs sank into her left index finger.

Audrey was absentmindedly rubbing her thumb over the scar when a soft knock came from her bedroom door.

"Come in," she said, dragging her eyes from the window.

The door squeaked on its hinges as it opened. Her grandfather's face peered in from the hallway, and he forced a smile when their eyes met.

"Hey, sweetie. How ya' feelin'?" he asked warmly.

Audrey sat up. "I'm fine. Can I come downstairs now?"

Rubbing his wide hand over his beaded chin, her grandfather nodded and stepped back. From the far-off look in his eyes, Audrey could tell that he was deep in thought. The way he seemed to avoid looking at her as they descended the stairs together sent a chill down her spine. It wasn't like him to be so distant.

When they rounded the corner and stepped into the den, Audrey was surprised to find Welkin sitting on the couch. It was rare enough that Welkin actually came into the home, and to see someone as majestic and regal as them sinking awkwardly into the plushy middle of their well-worn couch was so unsettling that it was almost comical. Audrey would have laughed had the tension in the air not been so thick.

"What's going on?" she asked. Her eyes flitted to her grandmother, who was standing by the window and gazing out into the encroaching gloom of night. Even with her grandmother's back to her, Audrey could tell that she was upset.

Welkin rose from the couch and motioned for her to sit. "Your grandparents and I have something we need to discuss with you, Audrey."

"No kidding," Audrey said as she flopped down. "I can't believe you guys sent me to my room so you could talk about me. It's not like I did something wrong."

With a sniffle, her grandmother turned away from the window. "You're right, honey. You didn't do anything wrong." She directed a cold and cutting glare at Welkin as she spoke, and the Star shrank beneath it.

Audrey glanced between the two of them as a knot of unease tightened in her gut. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your grandmother is upset with me," Welkin explained. "And to be perfectly honest, I do not blame her." They paused, anxiously folding and unfolding their hands. Audrey hadn't seen them express this much human-like emotion since her mother died, and she was alarmed by how uncomfortable it made her. "When I granted your mother's wish to have a child, I knew you would carry starlight in your veins."

"Ew," Audrey said with a shudder. "Please don't tell me we're not about to have some weird Star version of the 'birds and the bees' talk."

"Audrey, now is not the time," her grandmother said, her tone indicating that she was in no mood for her granddaughter's smart-ass attitude.

"Ugh, fine!" Audrey crossed her arms defiantly. "But can we stop with the dramatics and just get to the point? What's happening? How did I do—" she gestured in the direction of the woods as she struggled to find the right words "—whatever that was?"

Welkin sighed and eased down onto the couch beside her. Their ever-present glow reflected off the skin of Audrey's arm. It was more than just light: she could feel it, like the caress of warm ocean waves. When she was small, she would cling to the hem of Welkin's robes whenever they came to visit, just so she could feel the way the world seemed to bend around them.

"It would seem you are developing some abilities as a result of my..." The Star paused as they struggled to find the right words. "My contribution. To you. As your parent."

While Welkin babbled haplessly, Audrey looked down at her hands. She thought back to the things she'd witnessed Welkin do over the years; creating and manipulating light out of nothing, moving objects with a flick of their elegant fingers, defying gravity itself. Her mother had called these wonders "Star magic", though Welkin always balked at being aligned with the likes of birthday party magicians and television illusionists. Instead, Welkin called them "abilities", and Audrey had always secretly wished she had them too. Of course, that had been before she knew how frightening they could be.

"I don't understand," she said, examining her fingers as if she didn't recognize them as her own. "Why is it just happening now?"

"I imagine it has something to do with your age," Welkin replied. "Humans experience so much development in adolescence. I will be honest with you: I was surprised when you didn't demonstrate any abilities as a child. I simply assumed those traits hadn't been passed down to you. But perhaps you only needed to grow into them."

From the other side of the room, Audrey's grandmother scoffed. "You were surprised? Aren't Stars supposed to be powerful, all-knowing beings? Sounds to me like you didn't know what you were doing. How could you be so reckless?"

Under different circumstances, Audrey might have laughed at the sight of her elderly grandmother berating Welkin as if they were just some other human and not an ancient celestial creature. As far as Audrey's grandmother was concerned, it didn't matter that Welkin was a Star: to her, they were simply someone their daughter had loved, and that didn't give them special privileges. In fact, Audrey was certain that the only reason either of her grandparents still tolerated Welkin was for her benefit.

But today, her grandmother's righteous indignation rubbed Audrey the wrong way. "I think they were just trying to make Mom happy, Grandma."

"I know that, honey." Her grandmother said as she crossed her arms. "But what I'm saying is that for them to have a child with a human without understanding what could go wrong was—"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Audrey snapped, bristling dangerously.

"That's not what I—"

"No one believes that there's something wrong with you," Welkin interjected, cutting the argument off at the knees.

"Really?" Audrey scoffed. "I think Hedy would disagree." She looked back at her hands and imagined the crumpled paper of her ex's note between her fingers. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she thought back to the things Hedy had written.

"Ah, yes." Welkin drummed their fingertips across the top of their knee. "Hedy's letter. She wrote that she's afraid of you — why is that?"

"Afraid of you?" her grandfather repeated. His eyes snapped to his wife, and the pair of them paled.

Shame rose up Audrey's neck and spilled across her cheeks in crimson flush. Talking about this, especially in front of her grandparents, made her feel exposed and defensive; like a wild animal caught in a snare. She wrapped her arms around her middle and tipped her head so that her long hair slid forward like a curtain, blocking her from view. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, I imagine," Welkin replied. Even without looking, Audrey could feel their golden eyes boring into her. "So, I will ask you again: why is Hedy afraid of you, Audrey?"

For a few moments, Audrey thought she could get away without answering. Her hands gripped her thighs so hard that she'd no doubt wake up with bruises in the morning. She didn't want to talk about this — about all of the strange things that had been happening to her and left her feeling wrong and dangerous. But then her grandmother crouched down in front of her, making it impossible for Audrey to ignore her.

"What aren't you telling us, sweetheart?" her grandmother asked in the same kindly way she had so clearly passed down to her daughter. Maybe that—the comfort she found in that familiarity—was what made Audrey cave.

"Some weird things have been happening," she admitted, shrinking back into the soft couch back. "At first I thought I was just imagining it, but then Hedy and the others started to notice it too, and..." she trailed off.

"What kinds of things?" Welkin asked.

Audrey shrugged her shoulders. She thought back to the first time she experienced it. "Like, a couple months ago, after Hedy and I started going out, a guy in the senior class said something really gross to me."

"Who did?" her grandfather demanded, puffing his chest defensively. "What did he say to you?"

"Let's just say it wasn't the sort of thing I want to repeat in front of your grandparents," Audrey replied. "Anyway, it pissed me off. But my reaction... I don't know how to explain it. I was more than just mad. I was suddenly angrier than I've ever been before, and it didn't even feel like it was coming from me."

"Did something happen?" Welkin pressed. "Something like what happened out in the woods, perhaps?"

"I'm not sure." Audrey chewed her bottom lip. She was starting to doubt herself. "The school's power went out. But that could have been anything."

Welkin hummed thoughtfully, and Audrey was relieved that they hadn't dismissed her out of hand. "Has there been anything else? What did Hedy witness?"

Audrey went over her memories of the last couple of months. "Once she sneaked up behind me in the library and scared me. I don't know how it happened, but one second I was screaming and the next she was sprawled out on the floor. She got mad at me — said I must have pushed her down. But I never would have done something like that, I swear. And there was this other time — Hedy, Miriam, and I were late for class so we were running up the stairs and I slipped. I remember falling backward, but somehow I didn't get hurt. The two of them were convinced they saw me float right before I hit the ground."

For a moment, nobody spoke. And yet, despite the silence, Audrey could see that a conversation was transpiring in the looks being shared between her grandparents and Welkin. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but it seemed as though there was something they weren't telling her.

"What?" she demanded. "Why are you looking at each other like that?"

Her grandmother cleared her throat. "Did Hedy say anything about your eyes?"

Audrey froze. "My... my eyes?"

She knew exactly what her grandmother was alluding to, she just didn't know how she knew about it. How many times had Hedy swore that she saw Audrey's eyes flash brightly whenever they argued, or when Audrey was excited about something, or even when they were deep in the throes of a particularly steamy make-out session?

"Sometimes—usually when you're worked up about something—we've noticed that they, well..." her grandmother hesitated, twisting her hands in knots and glancing away. Audrey was suddenly struck by the realization that she was scared too. Was everyone afraid of her? How long had this been going on?

Her grandfather stepped in and finished his wife's thought. "They glow, honey. Your eyes glow." He jutted his chin at Welkin. "Like their's do."

Audrey twisted in her seat to face Welkin. "What does this mean?" she asked. Her voice was embarrassingly small. "What's going to happen to me?"

Welkin's lips quirked into a smile. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but Audrey would have sworn that they looked almost proud. "It means your abilities are just beginning to mature. You will need to learn how to control them."

For the first time all evening, Audrey felt a flutter of excitement in her chest. "How?"

"I will teach you, of course. However—" they glanced at Audrey's grandmother, who let out a small sob and turned away to hide her tears "—I'm afraid I won't be able to do that here."

All at once, Audrey understood why her grandparents were so upset, and it felt like a punch to the gut. "Are you saying I have to leave?"

Welkin nodded. "Yes. Not forever — just until you finish growing into your abilities and learn how to use them safely."

"How long will that take?"

"I'm afraid I do not know."

Audrey's mind spun. Somewhere deep inside, something clicked into place. It felt as though she had been waiting for this day her entire life — as if she'd always known on some level that her seemingly normal life wasn't built to last. After all, there was nothing normal about being half-Star.

She thought about her life and the world she knew. She thought about her grandparents and their cozy lives together, and the idea of leaving them behind made her heart ache. But she also thought about school and the way Hedy and their friends looked at her like a ticking time bomb. Maybe disappearing for a little while wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Closing her golden eyes, Audrey couldn't help but laugh.

Happy birthday to me, I guess.

***

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