by Dani Harper
Apparently, it had blown her pajamas off as well. Lissy finally located the bottoms behind the corner chair where she must have flung them. The top turned up wedged between the mattress and the headboard. She didn’t remember undressing herself, but the alternative was impossible. No goddamn faery had been in her room, she was sure of that. Okay, maybe not so sure—especially with her brain in desperate need of caffeine at the moment—but she was going to cling to the notion until proven otherwise.
Clutching the crumpled nightwear in front of her, Lissy stuck her head out of her bedroom door and listened. No cartoon soundtrack assailed her ears, so the TV wasn’t on. And if the TV wasn’t on, then her son was still safely in bed. He never began his day without a little screen time. Other parents might disapprove, but the truth was that morning television helped Fox keep track of time, something he had immense difficulty with otherwise. By portioning his routine into tidy thirty-minute segments, he could manage to adhere to a schedule that worked for them both. For instance, breakfast had to be finished by the time SpongeBob was over. When Henry Danger started, Fox got dressed and brushed his teeth. When The Thundermans began, it was time to leave the house for school. Lucky for her, though he liked the show, he didn’t fuss about leaving it . . .
Relief washed over her as she realized she didn’t have to get her son ready to go anywhere this morning. Gotta love summer, she thought. Fox gets to sleep in, and I actually get a shower I don’t have to rush through. She balled up the pajamas and threw them into the laundry basket on her way by. Under the spray, however, she discovered that last night’s dream wasn’t yet finished with her. Every inch of her skin was still hypersensitized to touch. In fact, it would take very little to tip her over the edge. Oh, hell, why not? She opened her legs to the pulsing water and circled her fingers between them until the ferocious pleasure buckled her knees . . .
FOURTEEN
The coffee can was empty. It took two cups of strong black tea and part of a third before her head finally cleared. Lissy had checked on Fox before coming downstairs, but he was still sprawled with an arm around Squishy Bear and softly snoring. And yup, Braith was still there, too, awake and alert, though he remained beside Fox’s bed. He thumped his tail and appeared to grin as he recognized Lissy, just as any family dog would do. If any family dog was a great gray grim . . . She had no idea what Braith would do if someone tried to mess with her son, but surely just becoming visible to them would be deterrent enough.
After draining her cup, she rooted around in the freezer for an organic breakfast burrito to heat up. Tea was really not her drink, and so much of it on an empty stomach was never a good idea, but last night’s erotic dreams (not to mention this morning’s shower-powered orgasm) seemed to have shorted out most of her brain cells. And when a few finally revived, they got busy rehashing everything her mother had said lately about needing to get out and have a life. Maybe even meet someone.
Lissy pressed the buttons on the microwave emphatically as her thoughts picked up speed. She really didn’t want to shoehorn a relationship into her already jam-packed life, but the powerful dream had effectively demolished her oh-so-logical reasoning. I guess my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Or else I was just really overdue for that orgasm. No grown woman wanted to admit that her mother had been right all along, but . . .
I should call Mama and let her tell Vincente that I’d love to get together with him—
Gack! She slapped the side of her head. Just because her mother might—might—be right didn’t mean Lissy wanted her to know it. And she wasn’t about to dip a toe into the dating scene (coffee . . . it was just for coffee!) with an enthusiastic Olivia practically watching over her shoulder. For heaven’s sake, I know Vincente. Kind of. We did go to the same high school, though he was a couple of grades ahead of me. Her memory dredged up a skinny, nerdy guy with braces, fixated on chemistry and little else. He certainly didn’t talk to girls. That was a long time ago—maybe he was just a late bloomer. So, couldn’t I just drop by the store and pick up a few things and just sort of casually run into him? And see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe coffee.
Just coffee.
If she did that, hopefully her subconscious would stop hooking her up with oversexed faeries. Why Trahern? Her brain shot back, Why not? After all, wasn’t he the first single guy she wasn’t related to who’d actually been inside her home? Sat at her table? Talked about her child? And of course, it didn’t hurt a bit that he was drop-dead gorgeous, and even the subtly alien angles of his perfect face were appealing. I wonder why he wore a mask in the dream? Ha, that had to be her subconscious again! Probably telling her that Trahern’s presence in her dream was just filling a role. He could be anybody—well, not just anybody—but there was a definite gap in her life, a space, a vacancy that needed to be filled.
And sweet Jesus, she didn’t want to think about what else she’d like filled . . . Shaking those incendiary thoughts from her head, Lissy got out the mundane ingredients for waffles and scrambled eggs. When Fox came downstairs, she’d make breakfast for him (and more for herself, too. That silly little veggie burrito just wasn’t going to cut it today). She’d check out how Fox felt, give him a decent amount of playtime, help him organize all his rock specimens from Palouse Falls if he wanted to, and then broach the subject of going to Handcastings after lunch. Good thing he loved visiting Brooke’s shop, because she had a helluva lot of questions for her friends there.
A-a-a-nd if Ranyon just happened to want to atone for keeping secrets, then he could watch Fox for an hour or so while Lissy ran an errand to the pharmacy to pick up a few things . . .
Maybe a little male companionship.
Dammit, it’s just coffee!
Flame spurted from the pwca’s stallion nostrils, and he stamped his black hooves until they wrung ominous bell-like tones from the dented pavement. Thick rubbery lips sliding over long sharp teeth should not have been able to articulate words so well, but the pwca spoke clearly in the old language. “Do not challenge me, Hunter!”
His hand resting easily on his light whip, Trahern maintained an expression of polite disinterest, as if the discovery of a potentially deadly fae creature in the very midst of a human city was an everyday occurrence. As if finding this flesh-loving shapeshifter feasting on lilac blossoms like a cow but half a league from Lissy’s home did not fill him with foreboding. By all the stars, why was it here?
Around them, cars traveled the smooth streets like great shiny beetles, their passengers intent on their destinations. A few people walked in the morning sunlight on the other side of the street, oblivious to the confrontation on this shaded sidewalk. Whatever happened, at least Trahern would not have to deal with their panic—
“Man, that is frickin’ awesome!”
A young man had just emerged from a shop. His dyed red hair was long on one side and shaved on the other. White letters on his black shirt boldly proclaimed SCIENCE DOESN’T CARE IF YOU BELIEVE IN IT OR NOT. “Is your giant horse a puppet or a robot?” he asked, the words tumbling over each other in his excitement. “Gotta be a robot, right?”
The creature bellowed like a dragon, replete with smoke and flame. The man ducked—and just in time—but bounced back up and clapped his hands together.
“Wow! So frickin’ lifelike! Hey, did you make it yourself? You got mad skills for sure, bro. Really like how you scaled it up, too. A mega-horse! That is just frickin’ epic!” Too excited to wait for an answer, the man kept on talking.
And man he was. Every sense Trahern had told him that the stranger was mortal to the bone. While it was still possible for humans to be born with the ability to perceive the fae, the gift had become increasingly rare in the human population. But far more surprising was the pwca’s reaction. It had ceased to bare its teeth and now sat upon the sidewalk like an oversize dog, its long mane and tail pooled around it. Golden eyes glowed with interest, and formerly flattened ears were pricked to full attention as it leaned forward eagerly t
o watch the man. Not as potential prey but as entertainment.
“I fool with computers and stuff, but I been looking into changing schools, getting into robotics. I mean, like, robots are future and all, you know?”
“Remember us as street performers,” said Trahern, adding an undertone of compulsion to his voice. “Walk away in peace, be inspired by what you’ve seen this day, and learn to create your robots. Walk away now.”
Still beaming, the man gave them an airy salute before heading down the sidewalk. The breeze carried back snippets of words: Amazing! How the hell did he do it? Most awesome thing ever!
“Truly, mortals are both strange and fascinating.” The pwca shook himself all over, his long mane snapping within inches of Trahern’s face. “What is a row-bot, Hunter?”
“Perhaps a simulacrum of some sort.”
In answer, the horse became a snarling warth, a heavily muscled bull that stamped the ground until it shook, an elk swinging treelike antlers, and more, all in quick succession. Every creature as black as Hades itself and each with the same golden eyes. Finally, a powerfully built fae with skin the color of coal stood with folded arms before Trahern and grinned. “I am Cadell, and I can take any form that pleases me. I will have to find a row-bot so I can learn its shape as well.” The pwca became the giant stallion once more. “But I find that this form pleases me best. I think the mortal admired it greatly.”
“And since you did not attack him, you have earned a few more moments of my patience. What business have you in this world?”
The fae creature appeared to shrug, a strange and impossible gesture had he been a real horse. “My kind are both restless and curious. I have seen all there is to see in the Nine Realms, and it changes not. But among mortals, now, there is always something interesting going on. Countless nights in countless forms have I wandered freely on the human plane above our world. Wales, they call it now. I’ve watched how humans live, how their farms and forests grow, how their kingdoms rise and fall and rise again. They plant, they build, they do. They are never still, as I am never still.”
All this Trahern knew and more. While other fae sought to amass wealth and power, pwcas gleaned information. Perhaps it helped fuel their limitless energy. Pwcas could even absorb the wisdom of the creatures they devoured, which unfortunately included the occasional mortal. But while they didn’t bother to turn their boundless knowledge into gain, they’d seldom pass up a chance to use it to create a prank. Pwcas were not only shapeshifters, they were master tricksters. Few could outwit their quick minds. “You have yet to answer for your presence here,” he said.
“Did the queen not invite all to Tir Hardd? It is a good place, as Gwenhidw said it would be. Different, as she also promised. I find much to observe here as each clan finds its feet and builds for whatever future it imagines.” Restless now, it whipped its long tail and danced upon its hooves. “But my kinsmen do not build. We are a free people, and seldom do our feet rest upon the ground. Curiosity compels me to visit the human world. And restlessness drives me to seek a place where I might outrun even the whirlwind.” The long, dark muzzle suddenly hovered close to Trahern’s ear, and the bold voice lowered to a whisper. “But I will tell you there is something else here, Hunter. An itch beneath my skin. A peculiar energy that pulls at me like grasping fingers. I came into the city thinking I might discover its source, for it is new to me.”
Sudden ice snaked along Trahern’s spine. Though he felt like cursing, he simply shrugged as the pwca drew back. “This entire world is peculiar. What would you do if you found it?”
“Do? I have no interest in doing anything.” A true horse could not frown, yet the creature’s forehead wrinkled deeply as if puzzled that Trahern would ask such a thing. “A question answered is as a thirst that is quenched, a fire doused, a desire sated. The satisfaction is all in the knowing.”
Truth. Trahern could feel it, and he relaxed somewhat. The pwca would pose no danger to Lissy and Fox. But if it had sensed the boy’s power, then other fae could as well.
“Am I to be sent back to Tir Hardd now?” The creature’s bottom lip protruded slightly.
Normally, that was exactly what a Hunter would command. But those were not the words that left Trahern’s mouth. “The rolling hills in that direction”—he pointed to the east and north—“have much open land, and the grasses and sage are as a silver sea beneath the moon. I ride there myself on occasion. Swear only that you will visit no harm upon a human, and I will pretend that I did not see you here this day, or any day after.”
“So do I swear.” The pwca ducked his big head quickly in a nodding bow. “I will also pledge to remember you, Hunter.” It bent its long neck around and neatly plucked a trio of hairs from its ebony tail with astonishingly nimble lips, then proffered them to Trahern. They were longer than the fae was tall. “Use these to summon me should you have need.” The big animal pivoted neatly on a single hoof and bolted down the street, up and over the tops of cars and trucks, leaving a wake of vibrant yellow flames that faded quickly to nothingness.
Though pleased with Cadell’s gift, Trahern permitted himself a sigh as he carefully coiled the glittering hairs and secreted them in an inner pocket. As more faery beings inhabited the new territory of Tir Hardd, more appeared in the mortal plane above it. Across the ocean, the fae had wandered freely in the human world for as long as anyone could remember. But here? So far, the Wild Hunt had acted quickly to turn them back or retrieve them. It was apparent that this method would not work for much longer. We cannot hope to contain them all. There will have to be laws put in place, boundaries and conditions set, as there are in the Nine Realms. Perhaps even a treaty made. I will have to consult with Lurien again soon.
But first he had to speak with Lissy. The need to train Fox was far more urgent than he had first thought.
The large sign in the window read HANDCASTINGS—MAGIC FOR A MODERN WORLD. A smaller sign hung below it: PAGAN, WICCAN, AND FENG SHUI SUPPLIES, ENERGY THERAPY, TAROT READINGS, AND MORE. Lissy had barely parked her car before her son was out of his booster seat and tugging at the door handle. Once freed, he raced down the sidewalk to the door, just as Brooke’s giant of a husband, Aidan, stepped out. Fox hammered home a fist bump, though his pale hand looked tiny and fragile against the master blacksmith’s enormous knuckles.
“What up, dude?” he hollered at the top of his young lungs.
“You’re up!” Aidan swung him effortlessly to his shoulder. If anyone else had swept him up like that, Fox would likely have gone rigid and started screaming. It had taken four years of unflagging patience on Aidan’s part before Fox finally agreed to try the game. Now it was a comfortable tradition for them both.
Fox still refused to hug Aidan, though, just as he didn’t hug Lissy. But who knows, maybe I’ll get a fist bump, too, someday . . .
“That’s a brammer of a dog you have there,” Aidan said to the boy on his shoulder, and winked at Lissy. He already knew all about the grim—as much as any of them knew—but waited patiently as Fox introduced him. “Let’s take your big friend to meet our cats.” He ducked low with his excited cargo to enter the bright-purple double doors, with the enormous dog at his heels. Lissy followed the trio, shaking her head.
They didn’t have far to go. Morning light splashed across the black-and-white tile floor, and Brooke’s three cats were sprawled full-length to enjoy it. The dark one, Rory, was lying on his back like a sunbather at a beach.
“Rory! Hi, Rory!” yelled Fox from above her. “Bouncer, Jade, look at me! I’m way tall now, dudes! And I’ve got a dog, too!”
Braith sat down at a distance and wagged his great tail politely. Can they see him like we can? If they did, Lissy was certain the felines would head for the hills. Instead, they immediately bounded over to the monstrous fae dog, sniffing and rubbing against him—then casually sauntered back to their sunning spot as if meeting lion-size canines were an everyday occurrence.
“Hey, you three, look at the fox I’
ve caught for you!” boomed Aidan. “I think you should eat him up!” Lissy’s son giggled as he was gently deposited among the lazing felines. He stretched out on the tiles among them immediately, chatting as easily as if they were human friends. Bouncer, the big spotted one, batted playfully at the boy’s hair with a carefully sheathed paw.
“Brooke’s just finishing a healing ritual with her last client,” Aidan said to Lissy. “She’ll likely be another twenty minutes or so. And Ranyon’s not here yet, but he’ll be along soon. The shop’s closed for the rest of the day, and I’ll be keeping a good eye on our Mr. Fox.” He reached into his pocket and produced a handful of long white turkey feathers. “I’m sure he’ll think of some way to entertain these poor bored cats.”
Lissy laughed, but her brain was suddenly abuzz. Brooke’s busy for a few minutes . . . Before she could talk herself out of it, she put a hand on Aidan’s heavily muscled arm. “Would it be okay if I ran a quick errand? It’s just a couple of blocks from here.”
He looked surprised and pleased. “You get little enough time on your own, girl. Off you go. I’ll tell Brooke if she comes out before you get back.”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek, then leaned in Fox’s direction. “I’m just going to the store. Are you okay here without me for a little while?”
He was far too engrossed with his furry friends to even look in her direction. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” she said, and bolted for the door before she changed her mind.
FIFTEEN
The pharmacy was five blocks over and two blocks down. Lissy decided to walk, hoping it would give her time to think of an approach. Should she go up to the dispensing counter with a question of some kind for the pharmacist . . . and then act surprised that the pharmacist was Vincente? Not really my style. Maybe she could just browse, then look over and catch his eye. Better, but what if he doesn’t look up? She crossed the last street and stood in front of the shop windows, pretending to be interested in a display of orthopedic sandals. Finally, she straightened her blouse, adjusted her cross-body handbag, and headed inside.
