"Lanie!" A bony, gray-haired man in a late-model Lexus pulled up to the curb where the four of them had paused. "So, what's the word? You're coming, aren't you?"
"Come on, Grover! Ruin my record?" Lanie shook her head. "You know I always have a lot of other obligations--"
"I checked. You don't have any comedy gigs and parties, your church isn't doing anything, and your Star Trek club had its Christmas party Sunday. You don't have any obligations. You're coming to the company party this year if we have to hijack you." He shook his gloved finger at her.
"You point that thing at the wrong people, you could get it bitten off," Lanie growled.
Grover obviously took it as a joke, because he laughed, waved, and took off down the street, heading for the newspaper office parking lot.
"Company party?" Maurice asked. He settled on Lanie's knee. "Those bozos still giving you a hard time about Daniel?"
"It's a situation of 'physician heal thyself,' I guess," Lanie said with a sigh. The grin she flashed them looked crooked, and Will suspected the rosy color in her cheeks wasn't from the icy breeze brushing past them. "Everybody at the office has decided that our owner and I are an item." She shrugged. "I don't know how many times I've interrupted the decorating committee plotting how many bunches of mistletoe they'll have hanging everywhere."
"The thing is, she's good pals with Daniel, her boss," Maurice said, spreading his arms in a helpless what-can-you-do? gesture. "That doesn't help fight the gossip. He's in her Star Trek club, they go to Indians games together, they both have the same warped sense of humor."
"We're pals. Why ruin it with all that romantic, mushy goosh?" Lanie finished on a groan. "Who needs it?"
"I do," Will and Phill said in perfect unison. They looked at each other, wide-eyed, for a three-count. Then they laughed. It was much easier for him to put his arm around her this time. Will thought he might even have been able to kiss her, if there hadn't been other people around.
"I'd rather have good, solid friendship with a guy," Lanie said, shaking her head. "Best friends forever. And we certainly aren't to that stage yet." She tipped her head to one side. "That's what you two have already, you know? That's the most important part, what a lot of people take years getting to and making solid between them. It'll kill you to be separated, won't it?"
"That's pretty much how I've felt since we split up," Phill said, nodding. "Like I was dying."
"Isn't that what love is? Not the roses and starlight and violins, but the part about being glued so tightly together it'll tear big chunks out of you if you ever try to separate. Right?"
"Yeah," Will said softly.
"I figure, be happy with what you've got. The gush and mush will show up when the time is right. Besides, from what Maurice has explained about Fae anatomy and adolescence..." Lanie smirked. "You two are still kids. Maybe you're just late bloomers. Be thankful you don't have to go through zits and hormones and your voice changing. Who knows? Pon Farr could still be waiting around the corner."
Will laughed. It meant everything to him when Phill burst out laughing a moment later, still safely tucked up against his side, safe inside the curve of his arm.
Wednesday, December 19
"How about a goof-off day?" Bethany said, when Harry came in the back door of her father's house that morning.
"Isn't that what we've been doing? All the sightseeing--the Science Center, the Rock Hall, the zoo, the Rainforest, the shopping." He leaned over and took a sniff of the omelet she was making. "Of course, with the way you cook, I need to run around as much as possible to work off all that food. I can't stop eating."
"You're being silly. And adorable." She flipped half the circle of the omelet over on top of the filling, turned the heat down on the griddle, and turned to face him as he settled down at the table.
There was something eminently satisfying about seeing Harry sitting at the kitchen table where she had eaten most of her life. And yes, he was adorable, so protective of her and fascinated with things she considered ordinary. She enjoyed showing him the points of interest in the surrounding towns, the places of culture and history throughout northeast Ohio. She enjoyed even more how the simple things Harry said with honest admiration and gratitude--like for her cooking--meant more to her than awards and movie reviews and fan letters.
"Adorable, huh? That doesn't sound like a good bodyguard to me." He grinned at her and reached for the pitcher of orange juice.
It amazed her that Harry had never tasted orange juice until he came out of the Fae Enclaves to protect her. He claimed it was almost as addicting as diet cherry cola or dark chocolate.
"You're the best kind. You see me, Bethany, and not the job or the promotion or the notoriety." She blinked quickly when her eyes got warm and wet, and turned back to take care of the omelet. "Anyway, what I said before. Goofing off. I mean doing nothing. Except maybe sitting around the diner, seeing who comes in, catching up with old friends."
"Uh huh. Have you been thinking about what Angela said? About your mom being a guardian and this Lanie having some information--maybe wondering what kind of powers you have, that you haven't discovered yet?"
"Maybe a little, but I--" She turned around, holding the omelet on a platter and almost ran into him. With a swallowed gasp, she stuck her tongue out at him. After all this time together, she knew she should be used to him suddenly just being there, right next to her or right behind her, close enough to touch. That was part of his job, being able to move quickly, silently, invisible to all the senses.
The thing was, Bethany was sure that she was getting attuned to Harry, so she should be able to sense him anywhere and everywhere. She should know when he moved. She should know when he focused those gorgeous eyes on her and stared like he wanted to kiss her--like he was doing now, despite his grin.
Maybe the problem was that whatever guardian powers her mother had possessed, she hadn't passed them on to her--only that sense of magic-but-not-magic that Harry told her he had detected the day they met.
Bethany detoured around Harry and put the platter on the table. The omelet was big enough for both of them, with a certainty of leftovers.
"If your father cooks like you," Harry said, rubbing his hands in anticipation as they settled down facing each other across the table, "then his place is probably the most popular restaurant in town."
"I cook like Daddy--and just barely. He taught me. Breakfast food is my specialty. But Daddy is a thousand times better cook than me." She sighed and bit back a comment.
"What?" Harry rested his hand on hers when she would have picked up the knife to cut the omelet in half. "Tell me. I can see something sad in your eyes."
"I was thinking I didn't inherit much of anything from either of my parents. A sense of magic. Some skill in cooking. But nothing even close to what either of them had."
"That just means you haven't figured out what you're supposed to do yet. Maybe it's unconscious magic, and skills you haven't experimented with yet. And maybe your acting is what your gift is."
"Unless I can take on a role that will change the world, what good does that do anyone? My mother was a heroine. She sacrificed her life for the entire town, maybe the planet, and I never knew until you figured out what questions to ask." Bethany rested her chin in her fist, but didn't tug her other hand free of Harry's grip. She liked the little bursts of tingles that came from his touch, kind of fizzy, like those tablet candies she had as a little girl, to make plain water bubbly and sweet.
"You're still young. Give it time. I've been working on my problem for decades. I never thought there was a use for it, until Alexi called me about you. The Fae have a longer view of time and the turning of events. You just need to relax and let things happen. Maybe you're so focused on figuring things out, you're missing details."
"That's easy to say. You're going to live for centuries. I only have eighty or so years left to me, if that much."
"Hmm, maybe."
"Maybe?" She tugged her hand free, bu
t something sparkling deep inside his eyes, almost hidden, made her laugh despite the pique that raised her temperature a few degrees.
"Did I tell you about Changelings?"
"Like, kids who get snatched by faeries and faeries are left in their places to be raised by Humans?"
"That's the Human version of the story. What happens is that a Fae and a Human get together and have a baby. Depending on the amount of magic in that child, he's either raised as a Human or a Fae. If he's raised as a Human, he might not even know he has Fae blood, until something happens to him or his descendants to awaken that magic. It sends off a signal like a tornado siren. When that happens, a Fae comes along, and offers him a chance to... Well, you'd call it gene therapy now, but some serious spell work is done to fully awaken that latent magic and make it the dominant gene. That person becomes a Fae."
"What does that have to do with me? Since I'm not Fae." Bethany busied herself cutting the omelet and serving it to them both, to keep her hands from trembling.
"You have magic. Maybe it needs to be awakened. And even if it isn't Fae magic, maybe--" He looked away and swallowed hard.
He's nervous, she realized, with a flash of insight that made the trembling go away. Does he feel what I'm feeling, but he's not sure where it's going?
She wasn't sure how she felt about the concept that there was more to this attraction between them than some tingly, experimental kisses that made his invisibility flicker. She did know she liked the breathless, energized, slightly dizzy sensation that flooded through her.
Did Harry want her to be with him, forever? He wouldn't bring up the whole topic of Changelings unless he wanted her to become one, would he? Unless he thought it might be possible for her?
"Maybe," she agreed, nodding. "Eat your breakfast before it gets cold. We've been exploring Cleveland and all the big sights to see. Now you're going to see where I grew up."
And maybe, if she was lucky, they would run into Lanie Zephyr and get some answers from her. Her father often said that everyone in Neighborlee visited his diner at least once a week.
* * * *
"How long has your family run this diner?" Harry leaned in for a closer look at the cluster of photos that graced the back wall of the diner.
"Five generations. Almost since Neighborlee was Neighborlee." Bethany frowned and looked up from the framed photo of herself as a baby, sleeping in her mother's arms at the long stainless steel counter. "Why?"
"I think there were some Fae around right at the beginning. Which makes sense, with all the power, the dimensional thin spots." Harry traced the definitely pointed ears of the proud man in a white cook's apron, who bore a strong resemblance to Mr. Miller. He looked over the long rogues gallery of photos chronicling the history of the diner. Definitely, up until a generation ago, there were pointed Fae ears in every single picture of a Miller.
Bethany got up from the booth in the corner and joined him. She leaned in, almost pressing her nose against the picture after he traced the sixth set of pointed ears. Eyes narrowed, she stared at her ancestor. She gasped, took a step back so quickly she almost tripped over her feet, and stared at him, eyes wide.
"How come I've never seen that before?" She yanked on his sleeve, bringing him closer. "The ears, I mean."
"That's easy. The standard don't-notice-me spell that most law-abiding Fae wrap around them when they venture out into the Human realms." Harry looked around the diner, just starting to pick up traffic as the clock ticked over to 11:00 a.m., meaning the lunch rush gained speed. He hooked his arm through Bethany's and led her back to their booth. "It had to be modified when the camera was invented, and we're still having a heck of a time working around the electronics and programming involved in digital photography. Basically, the spell remains with whatever permanent images are made of the Fae. With all the errant magic simmering in the background in Neighborlee..." He settled into the booth again. "Well, the spell probably got mixed up in whatever magic lets people live here with all the weirdness going on without losing their minds. It's easier to conveniently ignore things, rather than think about them and tear your nerves to bits."
"I have Fae in my background, then?" Bethany murmured, staring unseeing at the tabletop. "I thought you said I didn't have Fae magic. But I'd have to, wouldn't I, with all those pointed ears among my ancestors?" She snatched at her ears, holding her hands over them. "Do I have pointed ears, but I never noticed before?"
"Well, let your hands down and let me see." Harry was ready to laugh and tease her, but the first words died on his lips when Bethany complied. Sure enough, he saw delicately pointed tips on her ears, for the very first time.
That confirmed his belief that some powerful Fae ancestor had set a spell in motion to protect all his or her descendants, no matter how the Fae blood got diluted by Human. Something shivered deep down in his gut at the sudden realization that Bethany was Fae, even if it was only a tiny fraction of her bloodline. And suddenly her ears raised his temperature a good ten degrees.
"Harry?" Bethany let her hands rest flat on the table. "Harry--"
"Yeah, you do. Not a lot, but enough to see if you're looking for them." He swallowed hard and managed to scavenge up a grin. "You have got the hottest ears I've seen in years--decades." He laughed when Bethany turned bright red.
"So how could you say I didn't have magic, when it's pretty clear now I did inherit some?" She lowered her voice and leaned closer to him across the table.
"I have a theory. Let me call up the Ether Lexicon. With something like this, it's better to have facts and a way to get data instead of relying on hearsay."
"Okay, but how good can this thing be, if it hasn't given you an answer for your invisibility problem?"
"Part of the trick is knowing what questions to ask. If you don't ask the right question, it's not required to give you the answer you really need." Harry decided to enjoy her laughter, rather than be irritated or embarrassed.
Bethany's laughter died when he conjured up the Ether Lexicon out of thin air and it floated down to the table in their booth, accompanied by sparks and miniature whirlwinds the size of his pinky in contrasting neon shades of pink and green and purple. Harry was encouraged to see the Lexicon was only the size of a For Dummies book. He snorted when he realized the irony of the comparison.
Harry was encouraged even more to realize that Bethany could see the Lexicon. That said something for the strength of magic in her blood, even if it was battling with the Guardian powers, as Angela termed whatever she had inherited from her mother.
That was Harry's theory: the Fae magic battled for dominance with the Guardian half of Bethany's genetics. They nullified each other and muddied the trail or the waters or whatever metaphor might be applicable.
"That's a pretty cool trick," a female voice said, coming from just above Harry's elbow height. He looked over to his right and saw a woman in a wheelchair sitting in the aisle, her head tipped to one side, studying the Ether Lexicon.
"Hey, Miss Lanie," Bethany said. She glanced at Harry and waggled her eyebrows, tipping her head toward the newcomer.
"You're Lanie Zephyr?" he asked.
"Guilty. Who's been taking my name in vain now?" She pivoted her wheelchair to face the table, as if she would pull up to the end, instead of gliding past. "Haven't seen you in a while, Bethany. You dad didn't say anything about you getting home for Christmas this year."
"We're trying--ahem--some invisibility this year," Bethany said, her face turning rosy as she visibly fought giggles.
"Uh huh. Why do I get the feeling you're being very literal when you talk about invisibility?" Lanie tipped her head to the other side and turned her attention back to Harry. "What's with the sudden flood of Fae visiting our town?" She snorted laughter when he choked and nearly fumbled the Lexicon right off the table.
Bethany made the introductions, explaining that Harry was there as a bodyguard.
"So when you say invisibility, that's pretty much reality. Okay." Lanie nodd
ed. "So what's with the cool book that popped in out of nowhere? I've seen some dimensional transference--especially if you keep your eyes open around Divine's--but nothing like this. You can't even see the slit open up between different phases of reality."
Harry gave a slightly more detailed explanation of the Ether Lexicon, how it provided information, and the size depended on the situation, the question, and sometimes the strength of the one requesting information.
"Cool. Thank goodness none of my students could get at something like this when I was a teacher. There would have been cheating day in and day out. Not that I had to worry about you, Bethany. You stopped just short of being a goody-goody."
"I think that's a compliment," Bethany muttered. Then she met Lanie's gaze and they both sputtered laughter.
"Actually, we were hoping to meet up with you today," Harry said, when the laughter faded out. "Angela said you're a guardian."
"Ah, now that's a word with a lot of meanings, depending on the situation." Lanie pulled her chair up to the table, sliding as far under the surface as her wheelchair would allow, clearing the aisle. She rested her crossed arms on the table. "I have about ten minutes, max, before my lunch date--I use that word very loosely, and don't you ever repeat it to anyone--shows up."
"You're scared of people saying you have a date?" Bethany frowned a little.
"I'm meeting the owner of the newspaper chain for lunch. A charity event the chain is sponsoring, and he wants me to head up the comedy portion. Strictly business. I swear." She raised her hand in the Vulcan salute. "But there are a bunch of people with very shallow lives who keep trying to make something more--hormonal--out of our friendship."
"Okay, I'm not going near that with a twenty-foot pole," Harry said.
"Smart boy. Hold onto him, if you can," Lanie said, putting her hand up to the side of her face as if speaking confidentially to Bethany, but in her normal volume.
Have Yourself a Faerie Little Christmas Page 18
