by Anna Leonard
“There’s going to be holy hell to pay when I go back to D.C. Boss isn’t going to be happy to have his fair-haired boy wandering away from home.”
The shooting, in full sight of half a dozen Fibbies and local cops, was ruled—what phrase had they used?—righteous—and Special Agent Jon T. Patrick was, if not a hero, then a guy who done good.
She leaned her head back against his shoulder and looked up at the sky again. “Done good” had such a lovely sound to it. So did the idea of him transferring here. It wasn’t D.C. He wasn’t going to climb the ladder quite so fast. But if he was okay with it, she was more than okay with it. Anyway, that was why they put “federal” in FBI; he would travel, and then come home.
Home.
She closed her eyes, and breathed out a prayer. In the distance, she could feel the whisper of cats’ thoughts as they moved through the night, intent on their small, secretive ways. They dreamed of tasty mice and grand schemes, of warm hearths and gentle hands. And deep inside them all, the soft and fierce presence of the goddess rested.
In Lily’s heart, as well.
“Making a wish?” he asked, only half joking.
“Should I?” She used to wish for all sorts of things: a best friend, a lover, an end to her phobias and her nightmares. A place where she felt that she belonged.
“Nobody’s ever going to believe any of this, you know,” he said, going back to the discussion they had started over dinner. “The cat finding me, the way I found you…They’re creating reasons that work for them, that make sense.”
“What makes sense to you?” It was the first time she’d had the courage to ask him directly.
He chuckled, low in his throat like a purr. “Nothing. None of it makes any sense. But I have this theory I’m working on….”
“Of course you do.”
His arms tightened around her, and he looked up at the sky as well, reciting, “Star light, star bright, I’ve got every damn thing I want tonight.”
She giggled, the way he had intended her to.
“It’s over?” he asked, solemn again. “Your spells, the attacks…?”
“It’s over,” she agreed, settling against him, feeling totally, completely secure in him, in herself. In them. And, quietly, she thought to herself, Or maybe it’s just begun.
She thought that maybe it was time to go to the shelter, bring someone home.
And somewhere in the non-distance of time, she felt a vaguely feline, powerful purr of approval.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-2203-2
THE NIGHT SERPENT
Copyright © 2008 by Laura Anne Gilman
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.silhouettenocturne.com