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An excerpt from Lattes and Spirits:

The sun had dropped low enough that twilight hit the valley floor. A light fog rolled in as the air cooled.

“This really is Misty Valley,” I said. Aunt Rose had told me the name in Welsh meant hidden or misty valley.

A furry brownish shape scampered out of the tree line and walked next to Io.

“Hey, Punkin,” Io said. The cat looked at him. I swear it winked.

“You can breathe,” Io said to me. “You don’t have to hold your breath.”

“I’m allergic to cats,” I said, then turned my head away from the brownish tabby. I sucked in a quick breath. Maybe I could escape an attack.

The road had been rising and hid the village. When we crested the rise, I paused and stared. The village was beautiful. Below us, fairy lights danced on the breeze. The plants themselves glowed with inner lights. Beautiful against the twilight blue of the evening. This, however, wasn’t normal lighting.

One of the fairy lights zipped at us. It was some sort of bug? No…

A real fairy. A girl, three inches tall, with gossamer wings, dressed in a teal dress, darted right at me.

“Ebrel!” Her voice was familiar. “It’s me, Nia! Will you make me another caramel tornado?”

“What in blazes?” I looked at Io, then down at Punkin.

“Welcome to Cwm Tylwyth,” the cat said and winked at me.

“Which means?” I sputtered, still awestruck by the little Nia in front of me. It didn’t register that the cat had spoken.

“Valley of the Fae,” Nia squeaked.

“It’s a modern translation, and we’ve simplified it best as we can,” Io said. “Welcome home, niece.”

***

My feet kept walking, but my brain was fuzz. Fae? Faeries? Elves?

“Let me get this straight,” I said again. “Faeries?”

Nia zipped in front of us, zooming from one flight of pixies to another. Each flight of faeries flew over, darting about me. Each one squeaked out greetings.

“My apologies,” Io said. “I had hoped my sister had told you about us. She doesn’t communicate much with us.”

“She doesn’t communicate with almost anyone,” I said. “Just her hippie-drifter boyfriend and whatever small desert town they drift into.” My knees were wobbling. Still, I put one foot in front of the other. This was surreal. It couldn’t be happening.

“That’s Jazzy,” Io said. “Don’t worry, we fae stick together. Even someone like your mum. We’re one big family.”

“Well, the ocean fae don’t want much to do with land fae,” Punkin said. “And the giants don’t care for much of anyone. At least I didn’t upset a giant. I’m not sure the fae queen could handle a knackered giant.”

“Ocean fae?” What in blue blazes was ocean fae? I ignored the bit about giants. Told myself to just keep putting one foot in front of the other and get back to Aunt Rose. She’d help me set this straight.

“Ocean fae are folks like merfolk or selkies,” Io said. “About half of the land fae races have a counterpart in the sea.”

“Mermaids and… selkies?”

“Like a werewolf, only with seal as the other form,” Punkin said. “I’ve only met one. Had the disposition typical of shapeshifters. Grumpy.”

“Most fae in the valley are super sweet!” Nia still flitted about with several dozen just like her, each calling out greetings in their high-pitched voices. “This valley is full of very fun fae, even as small as it is. And now you’ve come home!” She zipped off again.

“Misty Valley, or whatever it’s called, is actually Valley of the Fae? Home to real fairies?”

“Yes,” Punkin said. The brownish tabby rubbed against my ankles every other step. “And you’re a fae too, so stop acting so surprised.”

“What do you mean I’m fae?”

“Did you think we didn’t notice all the magic you’ve been slinging around?”

I stopped and stared at the talking cat.

“Why am I not allergic to you? All cats give me hives, and I usually spend a week sneezing and itching something fierce.”

“Because I’m a pwca, not a cat.”

“What’s a pookah?”

“Pwca,” Punkin said. His cat mouth still did the Welsh accent well. Probably something to do with magic.

“We’re elves, fae, that help around homes. Leave food out for us and we’ll do the work.”

“But you’re a cat…”

“I just have the form of a cat,” Punkin said.

“He got cursed by the fae queen herself,” Nia said in between darts. Five hundred or so of her little kin darted around me.

“Cursed?”

“He likes coffee beans, cocoa beans, anything to give him a buzz. Punkin got high on them right when Her Grace visited our vale a hundred years ago. He got sick on her gown.”

“You barfed a hairball on the fae queen?” I couldn’t help it, I laughed.

“Not a hairball. Nasty chewed-up coffee beans,” Io said. “My aunt cursed Punkin. He has to serve a century as a familiar to a high witch to remove the curse. My sister was to be his witch, but she went to America.”

That stopped me dead in my tracks. My limbs, my entire body, already tense, began shaking. The world spun as realisation after realisation hit me. The lights in the basement weren’t lights. They were magical. My coffee cupboard had been restocked by magic.

And one other big fat fact hit me right between the eyes.

“The queen of the fae is your aunt… You called me niece. My mom has a brother named Eddie…”

“My name is Ioworth, not Eddie,” he said.

The surrounding trees swayed. Nope. That was me. My world shifted, and I just realised the implications of a bunch of things Io had said.

“You come from a very special family, Ebrel.”

He held me upright as my brain gave up. My knees buckled, and my vision went into a long dark tunnel.