“Back off,” Luke warned Elspeth. “I don’t want you bugging Chloe with any of your crap.”
“It’s not crap,” I said, placing a warning hand on Luke’s forearm. “Trolls tell the truth. It’s a congenital thing.”
In the backseat Elspeth was downright preening. “Ah, so you admit I might know a thing or two beyond your ken, do you now, missy?”
“You’re a thousand years old!” Give or take a couple of centuries. “If you don’t know a thing or two you’ve been wasting your time.”
“Doom is on the horizon,” she intoned, “and I can only hope my magick can—”
“Shut up.” Luke’s voice was low, steely, borderline threatening.
“Luke . . .” My own voice held a soft note of warning. Never piss off a troll. I thought everyone knew that.
“He senses it, too,” Elspeth said, still undeterred. “Even the human feels it in the air.”
“I don’t feel shit,” Luke said through gritted teeth, “and magick or no magick, I swear to God I’ll leave your sorry yellow-haired ass on the side of the road if you say one more thing about bad luck or containment or one goddamn word about our baby.”
Elspeth opened her mouth but apparently thought better of it and stayed silent. But it wasn’t a good kind of silent because I could hear her bitching in three other dimensions. The tension in the truck made my teeth ache and I was about to ask if Luke would dump my sorry yellow-haired ass on the side of the road when he said, “There it is.”
I put down my knitting and looked out the window. Carole’s Lakeside Inn looked exactly the way I had hoped it would: a sprawling stone and wood structure with lake frontage and a view of the White Mountains visible through the swirling snow.
“The parking lot’s jammed,” Luke observed as we inched our way up the hill. “I’ll let you out at the door and search around for a spot.”
“We can walk,” Elspeth said. “No need to coddle the missy because she’s carrying a wee one.”
“Coddle me,” I said to Luke. “My center of gravity is changing by the minute.” I was the tall, gangly girl who tripped over her own feet in the best of times. Add an icy walkway and an enormous baby belly to the mix and I’d be courting disaster.
“Walking is good for you,” Elspeth persisted. “Best way to prepare yourself for what’s to come.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” I shot back. “Talk to me after you’ve had a baby.”
“So much you know, missy. I birthed eleven, with three pairs of twins in the bargain.”
“You carried eleven babies yourself?” I was trying to pin her down. Elspeth was a tricky one, capable of all manner of verbal sleight of hand.
“And what was it I just said? Who else would be carrying my babies?”
I wasn’t about to start a discussion of in vitro, surrogacy, or donor eggs. Besides, wasn’t she the one who criticized the MacKenzies for being prolific?
“Must’ve been a long time ago,” Luke muttered.
“I heard that,” Elspeth said.
“Good.”
“Luke, stop it.” I placed a hand on his forearm. “I want to hear about your kids, Elspeth.” I had imagined her as the ultimate spinster, content to live her life in service to a powerful but needy male: Aerynn’s mate, Samuel.
“Eight have pierced the veil; three went beyond the mist to live amongst the Fae.”
“Are you in contact with them?” I asked.
“They are as dead to me.”
The lightbulb inside my head went on. “So that’s why you were so rude to Bettina the other day.” It seemed as if the war with the Fae would never end.
She made a particularly ugly face at the mention of Bettina’s name. “A foolish woman, that one, not worth the time it takes to think of her.”
“Why did your children go beyond the mist? Did they marry into Fae families?”
She narrowed her eyes in my direction and I swear I could feel her annoyance burrowing its way into my skull.
“They were weak boys, easy prey for hungry Fae priestesses in need of new blood. They were helpless to fight it.”
The sexual power of the Fae was the stuff of legend. When a member of the Fae turned his or her full power in your direction, you were pretty much toast. I counted myself lucky that my experience with the Fae Dane had resulted in nothing more than emotional whiplash.
It seemed another lifetime ago.
I peered out the window at the rows of parked cars. “I see a few Massachusetts plates,” I said, trying to keep the quaver from my voice. “Anything look familiar?”
“Parents. Ronnie. One of the sisters.”
“Oh, gods . . .”
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” he said.
“Yes, it is,” I said. “Someone’s waving at us.”
“What was that?” Luke swiveled his head toward me. “I can’t understand you.”
“I said someone’s waving at us.”
“Ohhhh.” Elspeth emitted a long, keening sound. “’Tis starting ... ’tis starting and it cannot be stopped.”
“Nothing’s starting,” I protested as Luke waved back at a smiling middle-aged couple then made another loop around the small lot. “I just have butterflies.”
The second I said it, a swarm of butterflies spilled out of my mouth and filled the truck.
“What the hell—?” Luke barely missed slamming into a parked Saab when a monarch landed on the bridge of his nose.
“’Tis the spell of containment loosing its hold,” Elspeth said. “A bad sign ... a very bad sign.”
“Stop with this spell-of-containment stuff, will you, Elspeth? You’re making me crazy!”
“You’re speaking French,” Luke said. “When the hell did you start speaking French?”
The butterflies disappeared and tiny silver shooting stars took their place. Unfortunately they were shooting out of my ears and straight toward Luke and the troll in the backseat.
“Ow!” Luke swatted at them as they buzzed his head.
“I’m sorry!”
A flotilla of stars knocked Elspeth against the door.
Okay, so it wasn’t all bad.
“Do something,” Luke shouted as a shooting star dinged the windshield. “These damn things hurt.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. Possibly in French, but I wasn’t sure.
We rolled past another car with Bay State plates as it angled into an empty spot. The parents were too busy shouting at the gaggle of kids in the backseat of their Jeep to notice the fireworks in ours.
I should have listened to Lilith when she recommended a gentle yoga regimen to smooth out the rough edges of my frazzled nerves. Maybe then I wouldn’t be speaking French and shooting butterflies and electric stars from various orifices.
One thing was certain: I couldn’t meet Luke’s family in this condition.
I took a deep breath, centered myself, then dived deep into the Reader’s Digest version of the Book of Spells that I hoped would span the distance between Sugar Maple and Lake Winnipesaukee.
It took three tries, but my command of English returned and the butterflies and shooting stars disappeared. Now all I had to do was remember the blend of spells in case I started spitting gold nuggets over brunch.
“Last chance,” Luke said as a spot right next to the entrance miraculously opened up.
“Nothing good will happen here, missy,” Elspeth reminded me. “Let the human aim this contraption back where we come from.”
I should have. In retrospect I wish I had listened to Luke and to Elspeth and said, “Let’s go back to Sugar Maple as fast as we can.”
But I didn’t and that was my first mistake.
9
MEGHAN
His name was James Whelan and he owned a cabin in Massachusetts. A secluded cabin far from nosy neighbors and busy roads where they’d spent the last five days in bed getting to know each other. She couldn’t remember exactly how they got there. She drove. Or
maybe he drove. Maybe nobody drove and they were teleported by Scotty and the crew of the Enterprise. All she knew was that the world could go to hell. He was the only thing that mattered.
She knew he was mercurial, up one minute and down the next. She knew he had a temper, which meant hot sex, which was followed by slow, sweet makeup sex. She knew she felt alive when she was with him. She knew that it would never last.
In rare lucid moments she understood that the whole thing was crazy. Sane women didn’t toss their jobs and their lives aside because a man smelled like starlight, but from the moment he walked into Hot Yoga her life had been out of her control.
She told herself it was his eyes; those icy blue eyes with the frame of thick dark lashes had been her undoing. One look and she was under his spell.
“I’m sex crazed,” she said, curled on her side with her mouth pressed against his warm, hard belly. “I literally can’t get enough of you.” She trailed her tongue down lower, then lower still, until his body reacted.
He told her what he wanted and she gave it to him. They both knew he would teach her things no mortal should know existed. Deliciously sinful things that made her blush in the darkness when she had never blushed before. This was way more than good sex. This was sex you would die for, do anything for, and it was starting to scare her.
Early on the sixth morning she caught sight of herself in the bathroom mirror and a chill rippled through her body. She looked wild and hungry, feral. Like a woman who had been raised by wolves instead of a traditional, churchgoing Irish American family.
She tried to imagine strolling into Carole’s Lakeside Inn to toast Luke and his new whatever and the thought made her laugh out loud. Could you say intervention? Her mother would think she was strung out on drugs—heroin, maybe, or crack—and drag her off to one of those rehab centers that promised miracles in thirty days or your money back.
She loved Luke, really loved him. He was the only one of her siblings who got her. Steffie’s death had sent shock waves through the entire family, dragging her brother down into the kind of grief she prayed she would never know. If he really had found someone and was starting over she wanted to be there to cheer him on.
She took another look at her reflection. The glazed look in her eyes. The lips swollen from hours of kissing. Her mother would nail her to the wall in an instant if she walked into brunch looking like this. Still she wondered if maybe she should give it a try. The idea of bringing James along with her was just wrong enough to be irresistible.
“What would you say about driving up to Lake Winnipesaukee for brunch with my family?”
He was sprawled across the bed, all muscular limbs and broad chest. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from straddling him.
His smile was lazy and amused. “In this weather?”
She crossed the room to the window, deliciously aware of his heated gaze on her body. She was surprised her bones didn’t melt.
The amount of snow startled her. The sloping landscape of trees and gentle hills had been obliterated by at least eight inches of powder.
“I guess we’re not going to Lake Winnipesaukee,” she said, walking slowly toward the bed.
“Disappointed?”
She smiled her own lazy smile. “That depends on you.”
He reached for her wrist and pulled her down on top of him and it was a long time before either one of them said anything else.
Hours later she opened her eyes in time to see him pulling on his jeans.
“Don’t get dressed on my account,” she said as he reached for the beautiful Aran sweater he had worn on the drive to the cabin.
“They’ll be closing the roads. If I don’t bring in more supplies now, we’ll be cold and hungry by this time tomorrow.”
“Wait,” she said, stretching as she sat up in bed. “I’ll come with.”
“I like you where you are.” He leaned over and pinned her to the mattress with the weight of his body and kissed her until she forgot everything but how much she wanted him.
“I used to be a productive member of society,” she said as lust, sweet and urgent, filled her senses like wine.
“You taught yoga,” he said, cupping her breasts with his enormous hands.
She arched against him. She couldn’t get close enough. “That’s an honorable profession.”
“There are better things to do with your time.”
“No argument there.”
He stepped just out of reach. “There’s wine on the counter. I tossed the last three logs on the fire. I might be a while depending on the roads.” He grabbed the keys to her beat-up Toyota.
“You’re taking my car,” she observed.
He grinned down at her. “Like you thought I was going to walk?”
“What if something happens?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. An emergency ... something.”
“You have your phone,” he said with an offhand shrug. “Call somebody.”
He was out the door before she had a chance to ask him for his cell number.
She was too mellow to worry, too well used to think about protesting the fact that if he didn’t come back she would be stranded.
For the moment she was exactly where she wanted to be.
10
CHLOE
“She’s not going to stay put,” Luke said as Elspeth melted into the snowfall and vanished. “Mark my words, she’s going to turn up at the omelet station looking like Betty White’s evil twin.”
“She’s not a big fan of humans,” I reminded him. “I think she’ll stay away until we’re ready to drive home.”
“Where do you think she went?” Luke asked, peering into the snow.
“Don’t know and don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, let sleeping trolls lie,” I advised. If I ever put down my knitting, I would embroider that sentiment on a throw pillow.
“I just wish she didn’t smell like waffles,” Luke said and I laughed. “She’s ruining breakfast for me.”
“Come on,” I said, hanging on to his arm. “Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”
“They’re standing in the doorway,” Luke said as we made our way along the snowy path. “Are you ready for this?”
I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. “No,” I said and we both laughed.
“There you are!” Bunny leaped forward, arms outstretched, and enveloped me in a hug. The glittery Christmas tree pin on her left shoulder dug into my chest. “When we saw the snow, I was afraid we’d have to postpone.”
“I’m a hearty New England girl,” I said, wriggling away from the brooch of death. “It takes more than a little snow to slow us down.” Which was, of course, a total lie since I was a wimp who wouldn’t drive between October and May and lived in fear of slipping on the ice.
Next to us Luke and his father did that male chest-bumping thing that passed for hello, but I saw real emotion in their eyes. As far as I could figure, they hadn’t seen each other in at least two years, although neither one referenced the fact.
“Dad,” Luke said, reaching for my hand, “this is Chloe.”
Jack MacKenzie considered me for what seemed like forever. “So you’re the reason he’s moved way up to snow country.”
“My job is the reason I moved up there,” Luke interjected a tad testily.
“Yes,” I said with what I hoped was a saucy grin, “but I’m the reason he stayed.”
Hello. That was a joke, people. There should have been laughter, but instead I heard the silence fall like a ton of bricks dumped on my inner wiseass.
Luke stared at me. His mother’s cheeks reddened. His father’s eyes narrowed and then, just when I figured there wasn’t enough magick in the universe to undo the mess I just made, Jack MacKenzie threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“I can see why,” he said, then pulled me into a gigantic bear hug that left me gasping for air. “My son knows a keeper when he meets one.”
I wasn’t so sure about the “keeper” remark but decided to let that go for another day. My inner wiseass was officially on a time-out until we got back to Sugar Maple.
“I’m happy to meet you, Mr. MacKenzie.”
“Mr. MacKenzie was my old man. Call me Jack.”
Another assault-and-battery kind of hug.
“Dad,” Luke said, “ease up. She’s breathing for two.”
“Aw, jeez!” Jack turned bright red and backed away like I was on fire. “I was just—”
“I’m fine,” I said, reaching out to pat his beefy forearm. “Luke is a worrier.”
A shadow passed between the MacKenzies and I knew it was the memory of the granddaughter they’d lost.
“Worrying is good.” Bunny’s tone was brisk, but the look in her eyes gave her away. I felt my jagged nerves begin to settle down. “If you don’t worry about your family, then something’s wrong.”
“You look familiar, like some actress,” Jack said as we turned to stroll into the dining room. He turned to his wife. “You know the one I mean, Bunny. Tall, blond, real skinny—”
“Uma Thurman,” Bunny and Luke said in unison.
“Tell me which one she is,” Jack asked Bunny.
Bunny mimed the twist scene from Pulp Fiction.
“No,” said Jack, “that’s not the one. I said blond.”
“She was wearing a wig, Jack. Uma Thurman is blond.”
“Trust me, Dad,” Luke said. “Chloe’s a ringer for Uma ten years ago.”
“Hello,” I said. “Unless Uma’s carrying around twenty-eight pounds of baby weight, I just don’t see it.”
That got Bunny’s attention and she was by my side in an instant. “Twenty-eight pounds?” She looked me up and down. “You’re what? Maybe five-ten?”
I nodded. That was close enough.
“I’m thinking you could use another five.”
I took in a deep, steadying breath and prayed I would say the right thing. Just my luck my baby’s grandmother was a retired nurse.
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