Standing in my room now, I stared at him. Bryn wasn’t just a man. He was a whole new world.
Edie’s knowing gaze followed mine, and her tone was bone dry when she spoke. “The one consolation I’d have if you became feral fae would be watching the candylegger’s reaction.” She smirked. “He certainly didn’t think much of your personality when you were full fae.”
“Well, who would have? It’s kind of vague, but from what I can remember I went a little bit crazy.” Normally, I smiled at Edie’s use of the term candylegger. It was an expression from her time—the 1920s—and wasn’t a compliment, but I’d always thought it was cute. Today though, I couldn’t enjoy her slang. Or anything about her visit.
“The cowboy’s back in town. The least you could do is go and see him.”
“I’ve tried to talk to Zach. He’s not returning my calls,” I said, exasperated.
“Why would he? He heard you’re living with Lyons.”
“I am not living there! I stayed there a couple of weeks while this house was under repairs.”
“And you don’t still spend every night at his place? Cooking in his state-of-the-art kitchen? Having dinner and drinks and sex with him?”
“No, I don’t!”
“It’s like you’ve forgotten all about the promise you made. I guarantee Zach hasn’t forgotten. And if you’re not careful, you’ll lose him for good.”
“Likewise,” I said. “And if it’s anyone’s fault that I’m drawn to Bryn, it’s yours.”
“Mine?” she spat.
“Who did I idolize as a little girl? Who had a dry sense of humor and told stories like they were movies playing on the big screen? Who had black hair and bright eyes and treated me to my best adventures? Is it really a surprise I like spending time with Bryn? He’s practically a male version of you. Only sweeter.”
Her phantom brows rose for a moment and then she appraised him with a calculating look. “So he’s a good replacement, is he? Because I’m difficult to get along with now?”
“I’m not trying to replace you. I’m saying you should get to know him. You could be friends because you’ve got a lot in common.”
“Trust a Lyons? Never. And so you know, the difference between your boy toy and me is that I may make a few cutting remarks, but I never set out to destroy anyone.”
“Neither has he.”
“Hasn’t he? The town’s ghosts have been wailing long into the night. There’s a spell creeping through Duvall, sucking energy from us. I’m sure the locket protects me from the worst of it, but what of the others? They lived here. They died here. This is their home. Will you let him drive them to shadow, till there’s no one left?”
I shivered and cast a look at Bryn. He didn’t want ghosts near us, but he’d know it wasn’t right to drive people from their homes, even if they were dead. “I can’t believe he had anything to do with it, but I’ll talk to him. If he’s cast a mean spell, I’ll get him to undo it.”
She bristled, throwing her arms wide. “You think you can control him?”
Her agitation made me blink. It wasn’t like Edie to get riled.
“Not control him, no. But I bet I can get him to compromise.”
“No, you can’t. He’s casting spells behind your back. Spells that are affecting even me!”
I frowned. Apparently they were affecting her. A lot.
“Okay, calm down. I’ll talk to him.”
Merc’s latest yowl made me turn. I went to the dresser, yanked open drawers, and pulled out clothes. I stepped into a pair of purple panties and hooked the clasp of a matching bra.
“Fancy lingerie,” she said. Edie was one to talk. She wore beaded dresses to breakfast.
I adjusted the sexy bra, flushing. The expensive underwear was a present from Bryn, but I sure wasn’t going to admit that. I tugged my jeans on and zipped them up. I dug through the closet till I found my Texas Longhorns hoodie, which reminded me of Zach since he’d played ball there.
I knew I wasn’t likely to bump into him, and it would’ve been more than a little tacky to seek him out after a night of celebrating with Bryn. But a part of me was sick of waiting to see Zach, and of being on pins and needles until I did.
I contemplated going to the home we used to share. No, not tonight, I told myself.
I pulled the orange Longhorns sweatshirt over my head and smoothed my hair. To Edie, I said, “If you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my ocelot. For all I know he’s been fighting a faery out there while I’ve been flapping my jaws in here.”
“Tell the cat I said hello. At least he’s clear about which side of the Never he belongs on.”
I eyed her. “Are you leaving?”
“Of course. Once you go, there will be no reason for me to stay.”
“No reason other than the view,” I said, glancing at Bryn.
She laughed, and it was haunting and musical.
I rolled my eyes and realized it was ridiculous for me to feel so protective of Bryn. With a few words he could probably clear Edie out of Texas let alone the house. “All right, I’m going. Don’t touch my candylegger while I’m gone.”
She laughed again, the sound brittle, and I caught the words she called after me as I left. “How times have changed. When you were little, you always offered to share your candy with me.”
4
I PUT ON a jacket and slipped my feet into clogs before I went out.
“Merc?” I called. “Where are you?” The tinkling sound was less irritating but still rang out every few minutes. Not seeing Mercutio or hearing him nearby, I waited.
My socks seemed to tighten on my feet. I frowned, backed into the house, and closed the back door.
“There is nothing wrong with these socks,” I whispered to my feet. “They fit just fine.”
With the door closed, I relaxed a minute but shook my head. My feet were becoming a problem. Being from a small Southern town, I’d spent a lot of time climbing trees, hopping into swimming holes, and doing things that were best done without shoes. As I grew up I thought going barefoot was just a habit I’d gotten into. Recently though, I’d realized it was something more. Since my brush with the fae part of my nature, socks and shoes often suffocated my feet. It was hard to explain the urge that overtook me, forcing me to bare my feet and let the earth touch them, but it had been coming on more and more frequently.
The people I loved—Momma and Aunt Mel, Edie, Bryn and Zach, even Mercutio—would think that was a disaster. So I’d kept it a secret from everyone, which was kind of lonely.
I couldn’t be turning totally feral, though, I thought, chewing my lip nervously. Wild animals didn’t know how to bake pies or mix cookie dough, and I was still as good a cook as ever.
I walked through the house and went out the front door. “Merc? You here?” I called. A rustle of leaves made my spine stiffen and I slowed, my knees bending deeper in case I needed to dive out of the way of an attacking faery or speeding arrow.
Mercutio is nocturnal and spends most nights hunting, but because he can also sense magic, he’s helped me fight magical creatures and solve mysteries. He might be only twice the size of a regular house cat, but he’s got the heart of a lion.
He yowled, and I ran toward the side of the house. A band of hobgoblins, small fae, had surrounded Mercutio, with their spears jabbing in his direction. He growled at them.
“Hey,” I snapped, swooping in to grab him. I’d been poked by their small spears before and expected sharp pains in my calves, but they backed up.
Mercutio writhed in my arms, ready to fight. The hobgoblins assembled into a tight group and shook their spears triumphantly.
“You better not jeer,” I warned, but they didn’t listen.
A slim halo of orange morning light rose. They looked up and then turned and raced into the bushes. For a moment, I saw their small eyes glow from the darkness and then disappear.
I dropped Mercutio. He darted to the bushes, stalking in circles, searching for the tiny f
ae warriors.
Then he padded back to me with a complaining growl.
“I know you could’ve taken them, Merc, but trust me on this, those spears are sharp. They could’ve put your eye out.”
I tucked my hands into my pockets.
“It’s weird, huh? Us being able to see them now?” I asked.
Mercutio didn’t disagree.
“Usually only other fae and small children can see faeries. And maybe animals—could you always see them, Merc?”
Merc eyed the hedges, but the plants had stopped ringing. The faeries seemed to be long gone.
“Well, I couldn’t see them before,” I murmured. “You know what else? Sometimes my skin tingles like it did when I had the faery dust on me. You think some of that’s still in my system after so many weeks? Think that’s why I can still spot the minor fae around town?”
Merc looked at me and cocked his head.
“I don’t know either,” I said, and chewed on my lip. “The only thing is . . . it seems to be happening more often. Every day this week, I’ve woken up with skin that—well, I think it sort of glows. Just a little.” I took a deep breath. “Let’s not tell anyone yet. The excess fae magic may go away.”
Noticing my bedroom light flick on, I clucked my tongue. “Darn it. I think Edie woke Bryn. She is such a troublemaker.”
I hurried back to the front door and let myself inside in time to hear an upstairs door slam. Edie appeared at the top of the stairs. She flashed a smile and gave me a wild-eyed look I’d never seen before. “I never touched him,” she announced. Then she faded into a pale green orb and disappeared.
“Bryn?” I called.
He arrived at the top of the stairs seconds later. He wore his jeans and pulled his sweater on as he came down. His face was a thundercloud.
“What happened?”
“I woke up in bed with a ghost instead of you, and she was whispering curses in my ear.”
“But Edie can’t hurt you, right? She’s complained a million times that she lost all her witch magic when she died.”
“She can’t hurt me,” Bryn said, rubbing his right ear. “It’s just not the way I expected to wake up.”
“Sorry,” I said, touching his face. “She’s still not used to you and me spending time together, and I think it rattled her to see you. This is her house, too.”
“I thought Melanie had the locket that anchors the ghost to the world. If Melanie’s out of town, what’s Edie doing in Duvall?”
“As long as one of us wears the locket, Edie can go wherever she wants. Except for your place, since your spells block ghosts from getting in. Your spells do still do that, right?”
“Absolutely,” he said, sitting down to put his shoes on.
“Would you ever consider making an exception for Edie? Assuming, of course, that I can get her to behave? You guys got off on the wrong foot, but she’s—”
“No,” Bryn said, standing.
“But—”
He took my face in his hands and kissed me so long and deep that I just about forgot Edie’s name and my own.
“Wow,” I said, licking my lips. Magic throbbed low in my belly. I shook my head to clear it.
“Come home with me,” he whispered against my mouth. The pull of sex and magic was dizzying, but somewhere in the distance I heard Merc knocking over a garbage can.
“I’d like to, but Mercutio’s itching for a fight. I should keep an eye on him. Before you go, though, I have to ask you something.”
Bryn rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes?”
“Did you cast a spell to weaken the town ghosts?”
“No.”
“Edie says you did.”
“I can’t think of a less reliable source. She’s trying to drive a wedge between us.”
“Probably, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s acting a little . . . off.”
“She’s a ghost. Erratic behavior comes with the territory.”
“No. I’ve known her my whole life.”
“Sure, but this is the first time you’ve ignored her sister’s prophecy. She’s furious you won’t obey her.”
True. “You promise you’re not hurting the Duvall ghosts?”
“Yes, I swear,” he said, putting a hand over his heart. “Do you trust me?”
Mostly. “Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry she woke you.”
“It’s all right. In some ways it’s a good sign that I can hear her now. I assume that’s because of the strengthening bond between you and me.”
“I suppose,” I said. My bond with Bryn didn’t need strengthening. We’d gotten really close too quickly. “You’re exhausted. Go on home, and I’ll come by later.”
“Promise?” he asked, staring into my eyes.
“Yep,” I said.
He brushed his lips over mine, making them tingle. He glanced out the window. “If there’s a spell affecting the ghosts in town, we’ll need to investigate who cast it. I don’t want to be blindsided by an interloper.”
“Speaking of getting surprised by an outsider, I almost forgot to tell you about the skeleton guy from the tree.”
“The what?” Bryn asked, his brows rising.
“Yeah,” I said. “He was scary-looking, but he only seemed to be spying. He didn’t attack us. So just medium trouble, I suppose.”
The corners of Bryn’s mouth crooked up momentarily at the expression medium trouble, but his smile was gone by the time I filled him in on my treetop visitor.
When I finished, Bryn and I went out to the yard, and he searched for traces of magic.
“There’s a lot of your family’s magic here. I can’t find residual magic from anyone else,” Bryn said.
“There’s one more possibility. Maybe it wasn’t a zombie or a ghost or anything that used to be human. Maybe it was Unseelie fae. They can be kind of monstrous,” I said, thinking back to the horde of creatures that had tried to get into our world on Samhain. Duvall was smack-dab in the middle of Unseelie fae territory.
Bryn nodded. “Maybe. It’s possible that the seal on the doors between our worlds is failing. Or perhaps a member of the Unseelie came through on Samhain and got away from the battle. He could’ve been hiding in the woods all this time until he was drawn to your fae magic and came to investigate.”
“Well, whatever he is, I guess if he’s not hurting anyone, we don’t have to try to force him back to wherever he comes from.”
Bryn rubbed his thumb over his lower lip. “We’ll see. Magical creatures in our midst rarely turn out to be peaceable.”
“I know it. But it’s Christmastime; we really should all try to get along.”
Bryn grinned and gave me a kiss on the forehead before he left.
• • •
A FEW MINUTES after Bryn left, I stood on the side of the house, inspecting the bushes, when a female voice said, “Hello.”
I jerked around, fists raised and ready. When it comes to threats, like Mercutio, I come down on the fight side of the “fight or flight” response. But the “threat” wasn’t one at all, I decided as soon as I looked at the woman who’d spoke.
She was probably a couple of inches taller than me, but it was hard to tell since her shoulders hunched forward like she wanted to curl up like a pill bug. Her dark brown hair was the color of autumn leaves and a little frizzy. She didn’t seem to be wearing a dot of makeup, but her pretty brown eyes reminded me of a doe’s.
“Hi,” I said, offering her a smile. There was something familiar about her—her perfume, I realized. It made me feel like dancing.
“Are you Tammy Jo Trask?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” I said, leaning toward her. Her shy posture and voice might have been an act; over the past few months, we’d come across plenty of fakes and phonies, most of whom had tried to kill Merc and me. But this girl I instinctively wanted to protect. The toughest part about meeting her was keeping myself from telling her to stand up straight.
“I thought it was you. I’ve see
n your picture in WitchWeek and recognized your name from your time at Lampis. You did work there, didn’t you?”
I blinked. “Yes, for about six months.”
“There was a dessert on the menu, the Black Chambord. The one with layers of very dark chocolate cake soaked in raspberry liquor. And milk chocolate frosting dusted with ground hazelnuts. Delicious! Didn’t you create it?”
I blushed, flabbergasted. “I did.”
“They renamed it, you know. It’s called The Tammy. No one makes it as well as you did, but it’s still the most amazing dessert anyone in my family’s ever had. It’s the one thing my stepmother and stepbrother and I can agree on,” she said, her lips curling into a small smile. She reached out like she would give my arm a squeeze, but instead pulled her hand back and clutched her hands together. “I’m really glad I’ve gotten to meet you. I’m Evangeline Rhodes.”
A double strand of giant pearls hung around her neck, peeping out from under her silk blouse as she leaned forward. It was very elegant and didn’t quite fit her shrinking-violet persona.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “What brings you to town, Miss Rhodes?”
“Oh please, would you call me Evangeline?” she asked, then added excitedly, “Or Vangie?”
“I will if you call me Tammy Jo.”
She smiled, and it lit up her whole face. “I’m in town to—it’s a secret. I came to see Bryn Lyons.” She lowered her voice, and I had to step closer because I could barely hear her. “I can tell you that, since my being here involves you in more ways than one. You see, I always said if I got engaged, I’d try to track down the Tammy who created The Tammy, to see if you might—but maybe you’ll be too busy to bake. I would pay—”
“You want me to make you one of those Black Chambord desserts? For your engagement party or something?” I asked, trying to help her get out what she wanted to say.
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