“I thought Meghan would be the first one to figure it out.” His sister, after all, had had a very close encounter with a seductive Fae male that almost had tragic consequences.
“Wendy hasn’t figured it out yet,” I reminded him. “Mostly she just finds Sugar Maple weird.”
He grinned at me. “I don’t know how to break it to you—“
“Not funny,” I said.
“You know I love it here.” He crossed the porch to where I was sitting on the top step and sat down next to me. “It’s my home now too.”
“Something’s going on,” I said, lacing my fingers with his. “I can’t pinpoint what exactly but I can feel it in my bones.”
“That peeping tom thing.”
“That’s one.”
“I thought we decided it was the Souderbush boys.”
“I would’ve bet the yarn shop on it until what happened to Wendy.”
“You want to run that by me again. I kind of got lost when she whipped out that picture of your dad.”
I repeated Wendy’s story about the now-you-see-him-now-you-don’t figure lurking by the shop window.
“Sounds like something slipped through the barriers you set up.”
“It’s more than that,” I said. “I’ve seen him too.”
I could feel the tension as he gripped my hand a little tighter. “Where?”
“Through the Book of Spells.” I described him down to the cloak embroidered with Dewi, Y Ddraig Goch, the Red Dragon of Cadwallader, in fiery reds and oranges.
“Sounds like the same guy,” Luke said, clearly not thrilled by the revelation.
“He’s not one of us,” I said. “Who is he? Where did he come from? Why is he here now of all times?”
“Maybe he didn’t get the memo,” Luke said with a shrug. “We both know this town is like Grand Central Station for ghosts.”
“They prefer to be called spirits.”
“Whatever. Renate did a great job shutting down the flow of traffic, but a few stragglers were bound to slip through.”
I leaned my head against his very solid, very human shoulder. “I hate it when you make sense.”
“Forty-eight hours from now this will all be over,” he said, holding me close. “The MacKenzies will be back in Massachusetts where they belong. Wendy will go home to Maine.” He paused and brushed his lips against my temple. “And we’ll finally be alone.”
“Except for Laria,” I reminded him.
“And Elspeth,” he said.
“About Elspeth,” I said. “Let me tell you what happened this afternoon….”
Chapter 14
GAVAN
That same evening
* * *
Gavan had recognized the troll at once: Elspeth, wife to Jacob, mother to many, devoted protector of Aerynn’s mate Samuel until he pierced the veil. To see her living among mortals, caring for their young, being treated as family, surprised him.
If Elspeth, one of the great warriors of legend, found reason to protect the humans, maybe some of them could be trusted after all.
He had watched the drama from the limb of an old maple tree as the ancient troll baited the trap for the unsuspecting mortal female who called herself Wendy. And, he had found it hard to believe when the mortal risked her own safety to keep the tiny magick from harm.
Not that the dark-haired human knew the wee one possessed powers. She was kin to Chloe along the human bloodline and possessed no magick of her own. The town’s secrets were shrouded in spells and charms designed to mask their true nature from mortals. Still, her selfless act of bravery had moved him deeply. Far more deeply than he would have imagined possible.
She slept now, stretched across the narrow bed while four familiars kept watch over her. She wore the faded lower garment called jeans and a white top without arm covers. He reminded himself that humans were warm-blooded, prone to wild swings of body temperature that caused them to add and remove articles of clothing as comfort dictated. Her breathing was even and regular, her breasts rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Humans required long, unbroken hours of sleep on a daily basis. Their bodies and minds were fragile engines that needed copious amounts of food, drink, and rest in order to work at their ultimate capacity.
He had much to do in the remaining day before the wedding. He needed to discover how far Chloe’s human mate would go to protect the half-mortal, half-sorceress female. Rohesia had not known about the child when his mission began. A child who might one day be the most powerful of them all, despite the wide strain of human blood that ran through her tiny veins. It was a complication none had foreseen and needed careful consideration. Most parents, mortal and magick, would fight to the death to protect their offspring from harm.
He knew he should be digging deeper into Chloe’s situation, devising a plan that would ensure the safety of his kind, but for reasons beyond his ken, he could not leave the sleeping human they called Wendy.
He had long heard about the treacherous human heart, the way it could shift from warm to icy cold in the blink of an eye. It was said that betrayal lay at its beating core. That might have been true once but all worlds, all dimensions had known change. Why should the realm of humans be different? He was descended from fierce soldiers who had fought for their right to survive in a violent and dangerous world, so unlike the world he had been born into.
This woman was different in ways he still didn’t understand, ways that called to his deepest soul. Maybe it was the kindness she had shown to Chloe’s child or the deep river of sadness he somehow sensed ran through her.
Maybe it was the feeling that together they would accomplish far more than they ever could accomplish separately.
Dangerous thoughts. He forced them from his mind. He was not here to find a new path for himself. He was here to follow a path chosen for him long ago.
The human called Wendy stretched slightly and curved her arm around the pillow. One of the familiars, a sleek black feline, met his eyes with a look that was equal parts dismissive and amused.
This was the woman he had observed in front of Chloe’s knit shop.
He hadn’t meant to cause her harm and he was grateful to the legendary warrior troll for bringing her healing skills to bear against Wendy’s human pain.
The action had angered Chloe because it risked exposing Sugar Maple’s true nature to the world, but he stood with Elspeth in this. To see a warrior troll risk a leader’s wrath to reward a mortal was stuff of legend and Rohesia had been deeply enraged when he communicated the news.
“The time is now!” she roared. “You will stop her wedding to the human and take his place.”
He and Chloe would be wed, but he knew he would never take the mortal’s place.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that the time for the promise to be fulfilled was within reach.
Chapter 15
CHLOE
The day before the wedding
* * *
My original plan was to spend the day alone knitting the cobweb lace shawl I’d designed for my wedding to Luke. I was three-quarters of the way finished with the knitted-on edging and not entirely certain I would make it through both that and the fiddly, eight-hundred-stitch bind-off without losing my mind.
I knew I could always call upon magick to finish it in the blink of an eye but my knitter’s soul would never be happy if I took the easy way. This was a labor of love and, like all labors of love, that meant no shortcuts.
Finished or not, I intended to wear it proudly but I’d definitely be happier if I didn’t have a sixty-inch Addi Lace circular trailing behind me.
I’d been working on this in secret for the last few months. Not an easy task when you run a yarn shop, live with a nosy cop, have an eight-month-old baby girl, and friends who can walk through walls without even trying.
So I had wielded my power as a bride-to-be and declared today off-limits to everyone but Luke and Laria and even they were banis
hed until dinnertime.
I had all the yarn I needed. Extra double-points at my disposal. Good lighting. Lots of iced tea at the ready. The a/c was working full blast. The cats had sworn to mind their own business.
And, to my surprise, I asked Wendy to spend the day with me.
She had been halfway out the door, right on Luke’s and Laria’s heels, when I stopped her.
“I could use some help,” I said, gesturing toward the pile of pre-wedding knitting tasks I had lined up. “If you wouldn’t mind being put to work…”
Unless she was the world’s best actress, she seemed to love the idea. “Don’t laugh, but I love weaving in ends.”
I rolled my eyes. “If I’d known, I would have saved a few mitered-square blankets for you.”
She grinned back at me. “My idea of heaven.”
We made a great team. She quickly finished the last inch of knitting on Laria’s wedding outfit, completed the I-cord bind-off, and put it in for a good soak before blocking it to size.
“You’re good,” I commented. “Did your mom teach you how to knit?”
“YouTube and Ravelry,” she said with a laugh. “Nobody in my family is very crafty.”
“My mother was a brilliant knitter. She’s the one who opened Sticks & Strings.”
“And she taught you how?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?” She looked puzzled. “You don’t remember?”
“I was so young when she died, Wendy.” I was aiming for casual candor. “What I really can’t remember is a time when I didn’t knit.”
She nodded in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean. I was a senior in high school when I learned. I wish I’d started earlier.” She snipped a few ends with quick, practiced clips of the tiny embroidery scissors. “Think of how many eight-foot garter stitch scarves I could have churned out.”
“All hail, the humble garter stitch scarf,” I said, carefully completing a double decrease after two yarnovers. “The shop owner’s dream.” In case you didn’t know, garter stitch gobbles up the yarn like a hungry army of moths.
We were quiet while I maneuvered my way around a particularly tricky corner of the cobweb lace shawl. Clearly Wendy did a lot of knitting with friends. She understood when to talk and when to be quiet, the two most important attributes for a knitting circle member.
“So where did you grow up?” she asked as I paused to take a long sip of iced tea.
“Right here.” I told her about Lilith’s mother, Sorcha, and how I had been lucky enough to have an entire village guiding me toward adulthood.
“So Sorcha adopted you.”
“Not legally, no.”
She thought about that for a moment. “And nobody from the Aubry side showed up to see how you were getting on?”
“Not that I know of.”
Once again I had skated out on very thin ice. There were no ready explanations for my upbringing that would make sense to a curious human.
Finally she spoke. “They didn’t care that much about me either,” she said, a hint of bitterness behind her words. “I think I saw my paternal grandparents once and I’m not even sure about that.”
“Not every family is close,” I said carefully.
“Tell me about it.”
I knew what was coming next and I cast about frantically for an explanation a sane person would believe. I braced myself for the inevitable.
Wendy didn’t disappoint. “How about your mother’s side? They were originally from here, weren’t they?”
The acronym K.I.S.S. danced before my eyes. Keep It Simple, Stupid. This might be the time to heed that advice.
“She was an only child,” I said. “And her parents were already gone.”
We refocused our attention on our knitting while unasked questions bounced around between us. Good thing, because I was pretty sure they were colliding with the answers I couldn’t come up with.
I wanted desperately to ask her what she was thinking but I didn’t dare. She was already suspicious of Sugar Maple and its inhabitants. Add my paper-thin family history and her warning bells must have been going off like crazy.
I had already volunteered more information than any sane sorceress would have. I was beginning to wonder if I needed to cast some kind of spell on myself that would help me keep my big, fat mouth shut.
Working an intricate lace edging on a humongous cobweb lace shawl takes concentration and time. I was so close to actually finishing the job that I could taste it. There was even a chance I could block and dry it by the wedding tomorrow. It was hot outside, sunny, and with little humidity.
The odds were definitely in my favor.
Wendy disappeared into the laundry room to soak Laria’s wedding outfit. Most people thought the baby should be garbed in white or ivory but I had opted for summery colors that made me smile. Wendy was in total agreement, which endeared her to me even more.
“Okay,” she said a few minutes later. “I blocked the bolero and it’s lying flat on the picnic table outside.”
“I wish you lived closer,” I said. (Seriously, where was the spell that would help me think before I spoke?)
“Me too.” She fixed her big, dark brown eyes on me. “But just not in Sugar Maple.”
“Excuse me?”
She started to laugh. “No, no! I don’t mean you don’t want me in Sugar Maple. I meant—no offense, Chloe—that I’m not sure I could live in Sugar Maple.”
“What’s wrong with Sugar Maple?”
Stupid question, Chloe! There goes that big mouth of yours again. You know darned well what’s wrong with Sugar Maple.
“Come on,” she said. “You must know there’s a strange vibe going on here.”
“What do you mean, strange vibe?” Who knew I was so good at playing dumb?
She fiddled with her iced tea spoon. “That what you see isn’t all there is.”
I forced a laugh. “Isn’t that true of just about everywhere?”
“Not like this. I don’t believe in ghosts, but if I did, I’d say this was a very popular spot.”
Okay, now I was freaking out for real. She didn’t have magick, I was sure of that, but she had something even more dangerous to Sugar Maple: smarts and curiosity.
And here I’d thought Bunny MacKenzie was the one I had to watch out for. When it came to adding up clues, my cousin Wendy could run rings around her.
I was deeply grateful when my cell phone vibrated and I excused myself to field a work call.
“We found a wicked good new indie dyer in western New York State,” I said after I ended the call. “She has a technique that enables merino to soak up the color as if it were silk.”
Wendy asked a few questions which I probably answered with way too much information. When it comes to knitting, I’m like the engineer who tells you how to make a watch when all you wanted was the time.
“Have you ever tried dyeing your own blanks?” I asked as I put down my knitting for a moment to give my hands a break.
She shook her head. “Too messy. I clean houses for a living. I want to keep my own place as trouble-free as possible.”
I asked her how she got started cleaning houses and she ended up telling me about her failed marriage to Gary Lattimer. My eyes filled with tears more than once and I hoped she didn’t notice. That’s why I read romances: because life doesn’t often come up with a happily-ever-after ending.
“And you really didn’t see it coming?” I asked as she paused to sip some more iced tea. “Not even a clue?”
“I thought we were happy,” she said with a bewildered shake of her head. “We never had one of those fiery, passionate marriages but we were solid.” She stopped for a beat. “At least I thought we were solid.”
Wendy had wanted a partner, someone to share the ins and outs of daily life. Someone to grow old with. A father for the children she had wanted so badly. She hadn’t been looking for the sparks and fireworks kind of love that I had longed for.
“Did you love him?” So far, that was the one thing she hadn’t mentioned.
Her eyes met mine. “I married him. I’d still be married to him today if he hadn’t fallen in love with Sophie.”
“But did you love him?”
“Of course I did.”
“Really?”
“Okay,” she said, “maybe not the same way you love Luke, but I did love Gary.”
“Meaning what?”
“You’re doing it again,” she said, deflecting my question. “You sound like a prosecuting attorney.”
I didn’t back down. “You’re the one who said it. I’m just trying to figure out what you meant.”
“I was very young,” she said. “I was flattered that he saw something in me. I figured the chemistry thing would work itself out.”
“Did it?”
“Sure it did.” She fiddled with her glass of iced tea. “With Sophie.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Funny thing,” she said. “I thought I did. I thought I missed everything about him, but it turns out that what I miss most is being married. I liked knowing I was in this life with someone who had my back.” She forced a smile. “Even if it didn’t last very long.”
“Even if you didn’t have any chemistry together?”
“I might rethink that part of the equation next time.” A twinkle appeared in her eyes. “A few sparks might be nice.”
I thought about the sparks that had literally leaped between us the first time Luke’s hand touched mine. The sparks that still sprang to life when we were together. I wouldn’t have missed that for the world. I wanted Wendy to know she didn’t have to settle but I was afraid I’d already said far too much.
“I’m not usually this pushy,” I said, picking up my knitting again.
“You’re not pushy,” Wendy said. “You’re opinionated.”
“Which is a nice way of saying I’m being a pain in the butt.”
“Borderline,” she said, “but you’re not quite there yet.”
“Good to know,” I said. “I’m so accustomed to Bunny and company and their frontal assault on my privacy that I’ve lost all sense of personal boundaries.”
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