CHAPTER ONE

“Damn. That’s the best sex I’ve ever had.”

I looked over my shoulder at the man collapsed on the sheets. “Of course it was. You’re with me.”

I reached for my cigarettes on the nightstand, but I never made it. Brian grabbed my hips and pulled me down beside him, laughing as he wrapped one strong, muscular leg around me.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I said, determined to make him work for it. “I thought that was the best sex you’ve ever had. Wasn’t it enough for you?”

“Never,” he growled, his face in my hair as he rolled on top of me.

I put my arms around him, then dragged my fingernails down the curve of his long, smooth back the way he liked it. His answering groan of pleasure was all I needed. I turned my face into the nape of his corded neck and kissed him, then gave him a little love bite for good measure.

He immediately rose to attention, just as I’d expected. Most men needed at least a little recovery time after an all-out lovemaking session. Not him. One minute he claimed to be spent and a step away from death -- the next, he was ready to go. Definitely a valuable trait in a man.

“You drive me crazy, Izzy,” he murmured between kisses. “I can’t get enough of you, day or night.”

“You’ll just have to bear it.” I pushed my hips against him in invitation.

“What a chore.” He chuckled against my skin, then slipped his strong, wide-palmed hands beneath me.

Oh, yes.

I lay back on the pillows as his talented lips made their way over the rise of my breasts, down my belly, and further south to where the real fun began. I gripped the sheets with both hands as his tongue began to dance, darting in and out, flicking, teasing. Five minutes ago I’d had an orgasm that made me believe in heaven. Now he had me on the edge of the cliff all over again. I couldn’t help it. I pushed myself toward him, aching for his touch.

“Brian,” I begged. “Oh, please, don’t stop, baby.”

He laughed, then suddenly dipped his tongue inside me. My hips came off the bed in response, but he held me entrapped as he worked his magic. I writhed beneath his intimate kiss, desperate for more. The coil inside me wound tighter as he continued his delicious, velvety assault. I couldn’t think, I could barely breathe. All that existed was the growing wave of pleasure that rushed through my body like a flood. Higher, higher, until I thought I couldn’t take it anymore. Then the bright, flaming release, so hard and good, like lightning in a storm. I couldn’t stop myself from crying out.

Brian held on tight as I rode the wave, then moved over me and plunged himself into the erotic tempest he’d ignited. I wrapped my legs around him and grasped his blonde head of hair with my fingers. The wildness burst inside me, the frenzied, animalistic rush to obtain as much pleasure as possible, to ride him as hard as he rode me, to take as much as I could in these few moments outside of time and space. All I could hear was the sound of our bodies pounding together, the sharp cries of impending release, the lamp falling off the table and crashing to the floor. I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop, not until I had what I wanted.

Then it happened. Brian and I shuddered together, the world around us a circle of flashing light and sound. We collapsed into a heap, the sheets thrown from the bed.

Brian lifted his head. He brushed my hair out of my eyes, then smiled and kissed the tip of my nose.

“Damn,” he said between indrawn breaths. “That was even better. How do you do that, Izzy?”

I reached up and caressed his cheek, then drew in a shaky breath so I could respond. “It’s my special talent, I guess.”

“Hm.” Brian stared down at me, his gaze thoughtful. Then he grinned. “Wanna go for three?”

I laughed, then gave his face a playful shove. “Cool your jets, big guy.” I pulled myself from his arms and gingerly rose from the bed. Ow, my back. Full contact sex was hazardous. “Want a Dr. Pepper? I bought some, just for you.”

Brian rolled over, the remaining edge of the sheet falling from his sweat-slicked, six-pack abs. I tried to ignore the distraction. He grinned and crossed his arms behind his head as he lay against the pillows.

“You’re a great gal, Izzy. You know that?”

I smirked as I opened the small miniature fridge in the corner of my room and pulled out a familiar reddish-brown soft drink can. “Wow, thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever had a sweeter compliment.”

“No, seriously.” Brian reached for the can as I offered it to him. He pulled me to sit beside him, then snuggled close. “There isn’t anyone in town I’d rather be with than you. Even if we do have to hide in your room at three a.m.”

I turned away, embarrassed by the truth of his comment. His grandmother, Gladys Miller, held a long history of disgust toward our family, going back to the days when Gladys and my grandmother, Anna, were girls in the old Ft. Bedford Schoolhouse. Times had changed, but for the Miller family, old animosities remained firmly in place. My sister, Selene, called it the southern version of Scottish clan warfare, picking up where our ancestors left off.

I called it stupid. I knew what it cost a person to hold onto that kind of anger. I knew even more what it cost to be the target of it.

Brian pulled me tighter, nibbling at my earlobe. “C’mon, baby. Smile for me. You know how beautiful you are when you smile. Let me see it.”

I did my best to offer him the appearance of a grin, but my heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t seem to notice. He laughed and flipped onto his side, pulling me with him.

“Hey! You’re gonna spill soda in my bed, you jerk!” I grabbed the can before he could dribble any more of the liquid onto my new mattress. I’d enjoyed breaking it in with him. I knew his spicy, musky scent would linger in the room long after he’d quietly snuck out of the house. I loved that. It made me feel as if someone still lay beside me, his arm around me while we slept. I hadn’t felt that since-

I sat up in bed as thoughts of Sean struck my mind with the force of a twister. He’d been the only man who’d ever come close to bringing me happiness. Until he was murdered, robbing us of the chance to see if we could have made it work. A chill settled over my heart, as if someone had ripped a hole in my body and left me open to the elements.

I swallowed hard, then tossed my long red hair over my shoulder. “You’d better go, hot stuff,” I said, covering my reaction with a dose of bravado.

Brian fell for it, kissing me soundly. Then he rolled from the bed and grabbed his jeans from the floor.

I curled into the pile of pillows scattered around me and watched him. I did enjoy Brian. No doubt about that. He had a stupendous ass and a libido that wouldn’t quit. His powerful appeal tempted me to pull him into bed again, but I held back. For my heart’s sake, I needed him to leave, as much as my loneliness for a man wanted him to stay.

I’d remained distant from almost everyone in the year since Sean’s death, particularly men. Until three weeks ago, when Brian Miller came into Casey’s Oceanside Bar and ordered a beer from me. I hadn’t seen him in seven years. He’d left town for Miami as soon as we graduated from high school. Now he was back, out of the blue, ready to take on the family mantle as the boss of the local feed store. I wondered what drew him to return to this little burg. I stayed in Fort Bedford because of my family. I wasn’t sure why Brian did. He didn’t offer an explanation, and I didn’t press him for one. We didn’t talk that much. We had better things to do.

He lifted the sheets from the floor, then leaned over and peeked under the bed. I suddenly realized what was jabbing me in the side. I reached beneath my waist and drew out his long-sleeved work shirt.

“Looking for this?” I dangled the shirt from my fingertips like a prize.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I was.” He grabbed the denim cloth.

I held on, pulling him closer like a tug of war game. “Kiss me before you go, you idiot.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. If I kiss you, I’ll want to do you again. You said I have to go.”

Yes. He should go. Right now. All six-foot-three of him, his muscled arms shimmering in the dim moonlight, those bright blue eyes full of desire, those lips still wet with . . .

He had me at “can’t”. I pulled harder on the shirt and gave him what I hoped was a sultry glance through my lashes. “To hell with that. What’s fifteen more minutes? You can always shimmy down the drainpipe to escape.”

“Good point,” he said.

I tossed the shirt on the floor as his hard, sweet body covered mine.

*****

Twenty minutes later, Brian hit his shoulder against the bedroom door as he hopped on one leg. I steadied him until he finally pulled his jeans over his hips. We couldn’t help giggling at the image we made. I had his workshirt on, buttoned incorrectly, the tails of the shirt dangling to my knees. He slipped on his cowboy boots, then stuffed his socks into his jeans pocket.

“I knew it. You stuff your jeans,” I whispered.

“Do not!”

He laughed at my lame joke. We were so blissfully worn out from our exertions, we were getting punchy. I put my palm over his mouth to stifle the sound, then burst out laughing myself.

I struggled to contain my outburst, then narrowed my gaze at him. “Shh. Selene must be awake by now. You have thirty seconds to get out the front door in one piece. “

I opened my bedroom door, then peeked down the long, paneled hallway. Selene’s door was still closed. I strained to hear any sign of her rising for the day, but all I heard were the distant snores coming from my niece Stephanie’s room at the opposite end of the hall. Good. The coast was clear.

“Go!” I said, giving Brian a push. He stepped into the hallway, then turned toward me.

“See you at one tonight, right here?”

“Shh! No, I have to work until two at the bar.” Without planning it, I said what lingered on the tip of my tongue. “Come and pick me up. We can drive to Mobile, maybe get a motel room.”

What was I doing? I wasn’t ready for a road trip with a man. Was I insane?

Brian’s expression brightened. “You got it, babe.” He bent to kiss me. “I can’t wait.”

The distant sound of water running through the pipes captured my attention. “Hurry! And don’t forget that creaky third step on the staircase. Step over it.”

“I won’t forget.” He tiptoed across the hall, then turned toward me again. “Hey, Iz?”

I glanced down the passage again, my frazzled nerves hiking up a couple of notches. “What? You’ve got to leave.” I motioned him away with my hands.

He smiled in response, then leaned closer. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

My heart froze at his words. My mouth hung open a little, then I gathered my wits. “You’re sweet, baby. Let’s talk tonight. Okay?”

He nodded, then carefully crept down the stairs. At the third step I almost called out to him. He remembered and stepped over it, flashing me a triumphant grin. I nodded and waved. He opened the front door and stepped outside, then closed it behind him.

I leaned against the doorjamb of my room and expelled the breath I’d held. At last. Another night without having to explain to my sister about my choice of sex partners. She’d hovered over me ever since Sean was murdered. At first I’d loved the attention, the intense feeling of family. But lately it felt controlling, as if she was afraid to let me out of her sight. Brian had reopened the door for me to the world of the living. I needed to keep that safe for now, to keep others from touching the fragile joy emerging inside me. Even Selene, whom I loved more than anyone in the world.

I took a deep breath, which reminded me that I hadn’t had a cigarette since midnight. Nicotine craving was a beast, but I enjoyed feeding it. However, I smoked only in my room with the windows open, out of respect for the rest of the family. We had a houseful. Selene, her two daughters, Steph and Lissa, and at times our former housekeeper, Sarabeth.

Then there was Selene’s fiancé and soon-to-be-husband, Adrian Burke. A very cool guy, in my view. Like my father and all the men who marry the women of our line, he’d filled out the paperwork to legally change his last name to ours -- MacPherson. I wondered if I’d ever find a man secure enough to become a part of our family tradition. I doubted it. Most men I knew, even Brian, seemed to think that pushing people to do their will made them manly. I’d learned how to handle that over the years. I fought fire with fire and usually won.

The pack of Salems on the nightstand sang a siren’s call. I turned my head toward them, eager for our reunion. Then I heard the door open at the end of the hallway. Damn. The only thing to do now was to act casual. I crossed my arms and propped one foot against the threshold, as if I’d been getting some air while contemplating deep thoughts.

Yeah, right. That’s really believable, coming from me.

Selene’s door opened a bit wider. She was dressed for the day, her light blue polo tucked into a denim skirt. The pink and white flower logo sewn over the left breast of the shirt made me smile. Steph designed it for the restaurant last winter, during one of her moments when she wasn’t rebellious or sullen. Typical high school girl behavior, in my opinion. Yet I had to admit MacPherson House moved to a happier tune since Adrian came into our lives.

Hard to believe all of this existed because he and my sister joined forces to defeat a serial killer. Not exactly the most romantic start to a relationship. They’d made it work.

The man in question stepped behind Selene, then wrapped his arms around her waist. Ah ha. So I wasn’t the only one who had some good lovin’ last night. I smiled, confident this meant Selene would be in an agreeable, post-sex mood until at least noon. The day ahead as her employee looked brighter.

I worked in Selene’s restaurant, Magnolias and Mimosas, starting at eleven. Then I signed on at Casey’s Bar in the evening. I liked waitressing. The people, the chaos, the rushing around. I liked the tips, which amounted to a sizeable chunk of change in my pocket every night. Maybe it wasn’t the most challenging job in the world, but I was good at it, and it was sure as hell good to me. The main benefit of my job was sleeping late every morning. Which is why I panicked, wondering how I was going to explain being awake at this hour.

Just one solution -- divert attention. My fingers twitched, unaccustomed to the lack of a cigarette. I glanced at my nightstand and sighed. I could do anything as long as I held burning tobacco in my right hand.

Adrian nuzzled Selene’s neck, his thick, black head of hair burrowed against her shoulder. Then he playfully swatted her fanny before stepping back into the room. Selene glanced back at him, her face radiant with pleasure. I wondered if I’d ever looked like that with any of the men in my life. She turned to walk down the hall, then paused when she saw me at my door.

“What are you doing up?” she asked, smoothing her skirt around her hips as if I’d caught her swinging from the chandeliers.

I grinned, enjoying the self-conscious expression on her face. “Oh, just taking a few minutes to chill before going to bed. Late night at Casey’s. I see you had a late night, too. Adrian couldn’t bear to go home, huh?” I gave her another smile, then winked. I’d always loved teasing her.

She blushed, then took a quick look at the closed door of her room. “You know he stays here sometimes.”

“Not a problem with me, dear sister.” I wondered if she would say the same thing if she caught Brian on the stairway one morning. “I’ll see you downstairs when I sign in.” I grinned again, hoping to come off as the soul of innocence. Surely she’d buy it, if she didn’t look too closely at the state of my room.

“Interesting choice of nightwear,” she said, giving my attire the once-over. “What did you do, raid the old boyfriend pile for that?”

“Yeah, that must be it,” I replied, doing my best to remain calm.

Selene cocked her head, giving me a curious quirk of her eyebrow. Uh-oh. That gesture meant trouble. My gaze flicked over the flowery logo on Selene’s shirt as I searched for something to say.

Then my heart stopped. The logo. I could see Brian’s shirt in my mind’s eye before I’d stripped it from his delectable body that night. It read “Miller Feed and Seed” in bright yellow embroidery. It even had his name sewn beneath it in fancy script. Oh, shit. I lifted my arm to run a hand over my tangled hair, then pulled the heavy mass over my shoulder. Was my hair long enough to cover the evidence? Had she seen? I held my breath, waiting for a reaction.

Selene lifted her head, then reached into her pocket for the keys to the restaurant located in the west wing of the house. “Well, see you downstairs. Get some rest, okay? You look tired.”

I almost laughed at the understatement. “I will. ‘Night, Sellie. Or, I guess I’d better say good morning, huh?”

I gave her a smile, genuine love for her filling my heart. She had that way about her. A charm so deep and yet so serene, it crept under your skin when you least expected it and made you believe there was good in the world. I wished I had that quality. I wasn’t sure what I inspired in people, other than -- well, I’ll leave that one alone.

She nodded, obviously unaware of my thoughts. “This should be a busy day. Be ready for a lot of tourists. Sleep well, honey.” She turned and walked down the stairs, the keys jangling in her hand.

I closed my door, safe at last.

Okay, that was it. This sneaking around business sucked. So did hiding from Selene. Driving to Mobile would allow Brian and me the chance to sleep side by side all night, then walk together in broad daylight the next morning. We might even have a real honest-to-goodness date. Was I ready for that? Maybe it was time to take a chance and find out.

But first, sleep. I threw myself onto the mattress, then leaned over and grabbed the sheets from the floor and tossed them over my legs. I’d make the bed later. For now, I needed some z’s. I’d deal with this dilemma when my day began at lunchtime.

Sounded like a plan.

*****

“Izzy, order up.” Sarabeth handed me a steaming plate of catfish through the service window.

“Got it.” I grabbed the plate and rested it on my arm along with the other two already present. A table for four was no problem. I could carry three plates on one arm, the fourth in my other hand, and still arrive without mishap. Selene said that’s why I was the best. I didn’t tell her that I simply had longer arms and better balance than she did. Let her think it was magic.

As if I had any of that. Since the murders last summer and Selene’s confrontation with the killer, she’d become the town super-witch. She’d even opened a metaphysical shop next door to the restaurant. I knew the locals looked at me and wondered if I possessed any of our family’s long-standing inclination toward the magical.

Sorry, no. It wasn’t a matter of avoidance or fear, the way it had been at first for Selene. I simply didn’t care. I couldn’t see the benefit of using charms, tarot cards, or psychic gifts. Maybe the family “witch gene” skipped me. All that mattered was that Sean was dead. So were the others -- Mitch, Jake, that poor man from out of town. No potion or spell could alter that. Selene tried to change my mind, to bring me into the mystical family fold and inspire me to “practice my gifts.” I told her to be happy I occasionally worked the counter at her metaphysical shop, the Nemeton. That was the closest I wanted to get to anything supernatural.

I shook my head, then put on my brightest smile for the family seated at the corner table, next to the picture window overlooking the blue water of Raven’s Beach. Selene’s white and green “Southern Mansion” motif for the restaurant went over big with tourists looking for a little “Gone with the Wind” experience on their way to Orlando or Miami. The grandeur of MacPherson House definitely added to the mystique, as well as the quaintness of Fort Bedford. Our town lay just over the state line from Alabama on IH-10, a little Florida beach town that existed beyond the reach of the cosmopolitan rush around us. We were a stop in the road on the way to places more exotic. Most of us liked it that way.

I’d noticed a larger influx of tourists immediately after the murders. That infuriated me. A cheap little book had come out almost instantly after Selene and Adrian solved the case, causing a brief flurry of media attention. I’d hated the stares, the strange questions, the ghoulish interest in “what did it feel like to find your lover’s dead body?” Oh, God.

“Are you okay?”

I snapped out of my stray thoughts. The man at the head of the table looked at me with brows furrowed. Poor guy. My expression must have been dark and angry. Remembering those days always did that to me. I shook my head, then laughed lightly.

“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have cloudy thoughts on a glorious clear day like this, should I? Here are your orders. I hope you enjoy the food.”

The man smiled, reassured. “I know we will. Won’t we, kids?” He leaned over the table, reaching out to tickle the young boy to his right. Peals of laughter filled the air as the child reacted. The woman I assumed was the mom of the group nodded to me, as if apologizing for her family’s playfulness.

“Y’all have fun,” I said, propping a hand on my hip. “That’s what the M and M is about.”

“Really?” a deep voice behind me intoned.

I turned, spying a new customer at the side table against the wall. The man sat with his hands raised and fingers laced, peering over them as if studying me. I walked toward him, the inquisitive look in his eyes putting me on my guard.

“Can I take your order?” I lifted my pencil over my order pad.

“I’m not sure. Can you?” He grinned, an arrogant expression on his face. Tall but well built, his frame filled the chair with smug confidence. He looked out of place, his deep charcoal suit and red tie in sharp contrast to the T–shirts and shorts worn by the tourists who surrounded him. His deep brown eyes, like chocolates in a Valentine box, glittered beneath heavy, full brows. His smile revealed pure white teeth set against the painful pink of sunburned cheeks.

Great. This was all I needed. A Yankee who wouldn’t know sunscreen if it bit him in the ass. I cleared my throat, refusing to banter with him. “The special today is catfish.”

He nodded. “I saw the catfish. In my estimation, what’s special today would be you.”

I lowered my pad and glared at him. “Nice try. I’ve heard better. You want food or not?”

He continued to stare, his gaze traveling slowly down my yellow polo to linger at the waistband of my low slung jeans.

Yeah, look all you want, buddy. You won’t be getting any.

“Come on.” I tapped the order pad with my pencil. “I work for a living.” Selene would kill me for talking like this to a customer, but something about him irritated like sand stuck in my eye.

He smiled again, then lifted his menu. “Far be it from me to get in the way of economic progress. What would you suggest?”

I considered listing rat poison, but refrained. “I’d recommend the prime rib.” Yeah. The most expensive item on the menu. If I had to serve him, I could at least make him pay for it through the nose.

“I see. Well, since you’re the expert, I’ll have to try it. Prime rib, then.” He handed me the menu, then flashed another smile. I imagined northern women fell for his suave, intellectual air. I could see it for what it was. Hot gas.

“To drink?” I took the menu from him, avoiding any bodily contact.

“Is that a complete sentence?”

I frowned, gripping the pencil tighter so I didn’t slug him. I hadn’t had nearly enough sleep to put up with this kind of crap.

He laughed in response, a rich, low rumble that was strangely appealing. “Sorry. Yes, I’d like some coffee. Black, no sugar. With my meal, if you please.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.” I turned and walked away with as much dignity as I could muster. I felt his gaze linger on my back as I pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen.

Yuck. I shivered, shaking off the effect of his presence. He gave me “the crawlies,” as my niece Lissa described them. His presence was powerful, invasive. Definitely disturbing. I peeked at him through the service window. He turned around, busily making notes in a little blue book he’d pulled from his pocket. My stomach twisted into a tight knot. Was he one of those tabloid reporters? He didn’t seem like one of them. God, when would this end? What was he up to?

“What you looking at, cherie?”

I stifled a scream, then turned toward the woman behind me.

“Shhh. I’m checking out one of the customers. Something’s not right about him, Sarabeth.”

“Where?” Sarabeth stood on her tiptoes, her head barely reaching the window.

I pointed to my right. “The one sitting at Adrian’s favorite table.”

Her expression darkened when she laid eyes on the man. Anyone who threatened her petites had “another think coming,” as she liked to say. At four foot ten and 150 pounds, she was a one woman Cajun fighting machine. I grinned, wondering if I’d better warn Mr. Out-of-Towner to beware.

“Hmm.” She nodded sagely. “He’s trouble, but not like the others. He’s here for somethin’ else. Up to no good, though. C’est vrai.”

“Wonderful.” I sighed, unsure what to do about the problem. “Oh, by the way, here’s his ticket.” I handed Sarabeth the sheet of paper from my pad. “I did get him to order the prime rib. If we can’t run him off, we might as well make a profit from him, huh?”

Sarabeth grinned, then shook her finger at me. “You be careful with that. You get back what you put out, child. Don’t you forget it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“Go on with you, now,” she replied, slapping my rear with a dish towel.

I opened the swinging door and returned to the main floor, scanning the room for people who needed refills on their iced tea or fresh cups of coffee. The mystery man turned in his chair toward me. He grinned slowly, as if watching me gave him the kind of pleasure that builds over time. Another shiver swept through my body, this time starting at my toes and moving like an electrical current to the tips of my hair. God! I wanted him gone, as soon as possible. Sarabeth said he was up to no good. The look in eyes told me that wasn’t the half of it. I didn’t know what he wanted in Fort Bedford. I vowed to do my damndest to make sure he didn’t get it. I crossed my arms and glared at him, sending the message that he’d come to the wrong place to stir up trouble.

His smile faded as he watched me. In its place, a stern look of determination swept over his features. The brown eyes that had twinkled with amusement grew as cold as stones in a riverbed. He picked up his pen, his gaze still locked on me. Then he turned toward the table and began to write.

I didn’t realize I’d backed away until my spine hit the wall behind me. He was more than just trouble. He was danger.

CHAPTER TWO

I didn’t waste time.

“Bethany,” I said, waving to one of the other waitresses on staff. “I’ve got a deal for you.”

Her dark hair swung around her shoulders as she spun toward me. “Sure, Iz.”

“Finish up table sixteen and I’ll let you have the tip.”

Bethany shot me a suspicious look. “What’s the catch? Is he some kind of ogre or something?”

I glanced over her shoulder at Mr. Tall, Dark and Strange, then shook my head. “He’s an ‘or something.’ I need to talk to Selene right away. Do this for me, okay?”

“All right. But if I have to put up with any flakiness, he’d better be a good tipper.”

Flaky didn’t begin to describe what I thought of him. On the contrary, I had the sense he knew exactly what he was doing. My instincts screamed to track Selene down and advise her of the latest threat to our family privacy. I knew she’d be somewhere in the house, most likely hip-deep in wedding plans.

I waved at Sarabeth on my way through the commercial kitchen, then headed east toward the family side of the house. What Selene had accomplished since my sleazy ex-brother-in-law, Jason, abandoned her and the girls six years ago still amazed me. Instead of curling into a helpless ball of hysteria, she’d turned the west side of the house into a thriving business. A restaurant, metaphysical gift shop, art studio and local crafts store. A virtual mini–mall. I liked to think of it as my sister’s triumph.

Me? I was happy to simply live in the ancestral house with my family and have a life that wasn’t too taxing and not too boring. Maybe I should want more than that. But for now, it was all I could handle. Throwing Brian into the mix could definitely change things. But I’d think about that later. The man behind me, most likely digging into his over-priced prime rib at this very moment, posed the immediate problem.

I pushed open the swinging door that led to the foyer on the family side of the house. Warm blue, red, and green light shone from the stained glass window above the front doorway, bathing the polished wood floor with color. Immediately the pounding of my anxious heart slowed. The pleasure of familiarity filled my senses. All my life, the sight of those shades on cool, light pine told me that I’d reached safety, that the troubles of the world couldn’t reach me. I was in MacPherson House. True sanctuary.

I took a deep breath, then glanced around. “Sellie? Where are you?”

“I’m here!” a voice called out. “I can’t figure out this catering estimate! Why should it cost so much for stuffed chicken?”

I rolled my eyes. Another wedding crisis. I followed her voice to the back office. She’d cleared out our father’s library and established it as a workplace for herself and Adrian. His new job as an insurance investigator meant a lot of paperwork and late hours tailing insurance scam artists. I took one look at all they had to deal with and thanked God for my only necessary work equipment -- two sturdy feet.

I stood at the doorway as Selene dug through a mountain of paperwork strewn across the desk. Her hair curled wildly around her head, indicating her level of anxiety. Maybe this wasn’t a good time to bring up our new visitor. On the other hand, it might distract her from the price of chicken kiev.

“There’s another one of them in town.”

Her head snapped up at my words. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I just waited on him. He’s writing in a little notepad every time I step away. Sarabeth says he’s up to no good. I agree with her.”

Selene slammed a stack of papers on the desk. “I knew it. I could feel it coming all morning.”

I smiled and shook my head. Other people had feelings. Selene had certainties, the uncanny ability to discern the shift of energy around her. In the year since the murders, she’d honed that skill to a fine point. I’d learned to shield my emotions from her radar. I had no desire to add to her worries. I had even less desire for her to tune into mine.

“You felt it? Why didn’t you say anything?”

She sighed, her head dropping to her chest. “I didn’t want to accept it. They’ve left us alone for the last couple of months. I thought it was over.”

I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms. “So did I. But we’ll have to watch this one. He seems smarter than the others.”

Selene frowned. “Really? What else did you pick up on him? Did you get an impression about his intent? His goal?”

I laughed and raised my palm toward her. “Sorry, Sis. That kind of thing is your department. I use my two eyes and what they see to give me information. Not the ‘woo-woo’ stuff.”

She smiled that Cheshire cat grin of hers. “Maybe you’ll dream about him. That kind of thing is your department, whether you like it or not.”

I shrugged and looked down at my feet, determined to not let her see the impact of her words. Future-foretelling dreams haunted my childhood. It wasn’t a gift to me. It was punishment. I’d worked hard to shut them out. I’d achieved that goal so well that I hadn’t dreamed at all the night before Sean’s murder.

Immediately, guilt seared into my heart. I’d smothered my gift for my own good. But then there was Sean. If I’d allowed myself to dream, could I have saved him? What if . . .

“Are you okay? Hey, this guy is really worrying you, isn’t he? Too bad I can’t hex him.”

I lifted my head and forced a smile for her benefit. “That’s why it’s a good thing you’re the super-witch and I’m not. I’d be hexing everyone in town. We’d have nothing but toads on the streets.”

Selene laughed, just as I’d hoped. Diversion, distraction. Worked every time.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder, trying for a nonchalant look. “I’m going to finish up, then close down the restaurant for the day. After that, I’m heading to Casey’s at six. You want anything from town?”

“I want cheaper chicken,” she replied, her nose buried in the estimate from Nellie’s Catering.

Even in the midst of my darkening mood, I couldn’t suppress a grin. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Selene lifted her gaze to me. “By the way, don’t forget about the engagement party. Janell’s counting on you for help.”

I nodded, gearing myself for the hours I’d have to spend with Selene’s very talkative and bubbly best friend. The thought exhausted me, but Janell was precious to my sister. “I won’t let her down, don’t worry. Talk to you later.”

“Hey.” Selene called out, interrupting my exit. “Don’t let this tabloid reporter bother you. We can handle him. We can do anything as long as we’re together, right?”

I looked over my shoulder at her earnest, caring expression. I knew she believed her words. My heart squeezed with love for her and her unshakable faith. “You betcha,” I replied, giving her a thumbs up gesture.

I’m such a liar.

I walked toward the kitchen, but decided at the last minute to catch a smoke before I returned to the dining hall. Just a few drags, nothing serious. It might calm my nerves. Reason enough to indulge.

I pulled open the sliding door that led to the parking lot of the restaurant. We had to sacrifice some of our back yard in order to pour the asphalt, but business demanded it. I tugged the cigarette box and lighter from the front pocket of my jeans, then lit up and communed with the tobacco. Ah, yes. I closed my eyes, enjoying the moment of solitude before pasting on my happy face for the customers. Just a few precious minutes of peace.

Destroyed when the tabloid guy strolled to his car. Damn it.

He grinned when he caught sight of me, then walked to where I stood. “Miss MacPherson, isn’t it? I’m sorry you took your break before we could finish our conversation. Your need for nicotine must have overruled your need for a tip.”

“I’m sure Bethany took good care of you.” I blew out a stream of smoke, wishing this guy would hit the road.

“That she did. But I’m sure there isn’t anyone who compares to you.”

I laughed, then flicked some ash onto the pavement beneath me. “You’d be right about that. Probably not in the way you’re thinking. So, where are you from? Not around here, that’s for sure. You sound like somebody from Harvard.”

“Yale, actually. You’ve been to Harvard?”

I took another drag on my cigarette. “Me? The closest I’ve come to Harvard is old movies on TV. I’m just a country gal. I’m sure you know that already. You’re here to dig up dirt on us, aren’t you? Who do you work for? The Daily Gossip?”

His smile deepened. Apparently he didn’t realize I’d spied his little blue notebook. “Not quite. I’m here on my own. I don’t work for anyone except myself.”

I stared at him, digesting his words. Despite the vigilant mood he stirred in me, I had to admit he was very good looking, in a dark, alluring, George Clooney kind of way. He had an air of sophistication and confidence, the kind of man who knows what he wants and makes it happen. My mood deepened at the thought.

I gave his silk suit the once over. “Freelance, huh? Working for yourself must pay pretty well. What is that? Armani?”

The man smoothed the suit beneath his hands. “Yes, it is. Good eye.”

I nodded, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I read the fashion mags.”

“Interesting,” he replied, stepping closer. “And you, Miss MacPherson. Just a country gal? I dare say there’s much more brewing beneath that scarlet hair.”

I held back a grin, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me. “You’d be correct. You’d also be the only person in the state to hold that opinion.”

He placed a hand on the wall beside me. How had he come that close without my notice? I felt like a small rabbit, mesmerized by the snake’s rhythmic, subtle movements. Until he struck.

“And why would that be? I think you’re quite out of the ordinary. I’d love to hear more of your thoughts.”

I allowed myself a moment to look into his eyes, to pretend this man’s interest was real. Then I flicked my cigarette to the pavement and ground it out with my heel. “Look, Mr. Whoever–you–are, I have to get back to work. I don’t come from money, like you. I have to earn it with my feet. Enjoy Fort Bedford. But if your being here has anything to do with what happened last summer, then I have only two words for you -- get lost.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he replied, a tone of amusement under his words.

I slammed the glass door behind me. Advisement, my ass.

*****

Casey’s buzzed with activity, the noise level just short of ear-splitting. I grinned at the chaos. That much noise meant good old boys and tourists with money to burn. The tips would improve as the night went on, as smoothly as beer flowed from the taps. My credit card bill would thank them.

I smoothed my uniform, careful to make sure that the crinolines lay even beneath my skirt. Frank Casey dressed all of his employees like southern-style Playboy bunnies. Our costumes consisted of a low–cut black corset shirt, short black satin skirt, and a tiny stiff crinoline that pushed the satin skyward like Scarlett O’Hara gone wild. Finished off with black lace hosiery and stilettos, we went beyond the juvenile appeal of a Hooters girl. We were full-fledged male fantasies come true, without any of that uncomfortable pole dancing involved. Not that I wouldn’t engage in a little of that behavior for the right guy.

I laughed, surprised by the course of my thoughts. A notion like that hadn’t gone through my head since Sean. Maybe Brian’s touch healed more than just my lonely nights. I lifted my head, a fresh sense of confidence boosting my spirit.

My arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. Harlan Roberts, the new police chief -- after Adrian refused the mayor’s offer to come back onboard -- and his young officers, Bubba Wolcheski and Johnny Marshall, sat at the table closest to the bar. Johnny grinned sheepishly at me as Harlan and Bubba lifted their glasses in greeting. I waved to them, then walked toward the back room to sign in.

As usual, Frank Casey sat with his newspaper spread across his widening belly, a circle of smoke rising from behind the print curtain. He’d hired a new bartender recently, leaving him with less time out front and more time to read editorials. The better for the rest of us, if you asked me. Kept him out of our hair.

“Hey, Frank.” I tossed my purse into my locker.

He lowered his paper and grimaced. “You’re late, MacPherson.”

“Am not. Your watch is fast.”

Frank glared at his watch, then at the clock on the wall. “Whatever. The natives are restless tonight. Be on your toes, kid.”

“Yes sir.” I gave him a quick military salute.

He’d missed it. His face was shoveled into the Metro section of the Mobile Register. So be it. I grabbed my order pad and my little black apron and hit the floor. Time to make some very necessary cash.

I walked across the room, nodding to my co-workers Stacy and Mary as I made my way through the bar to my section. Their costumes, exact replicas of mine, flitted across their fannies like bad girl ballerinas. Did I look like that from behind? I hoped not. I towered over their petite frames at five feet eight inches. Hopefully my height gave the uniform more flair.

I scanned the area, taking in the crowd, looking for potential trouble spots. The place was an odd mix of dark wood, ocean-inspired wall hangings and red velvet tablecloths. Frank couldn’t decide if he wanted a family meeting place or a Las Vegas sinner’s den. He’d compromised and called it Casey’s Oceanside Sports Bar. The big screen TVs waged daily battle with the jukebox in the corner as it wailed out Tim McGraw and Willie Nelson. In short, it was an insane place to work. I loved it.

The previous waitress in my section, Nikki, had left early. My patrons were low on pretzels and high on frustration by the time I reached their side.

“I’ve been waiting for a refill!” Norton Bailey called out the moment he laid eyes on me. He waved his empty beer mug as if we’d stepped back in time to a medieval tavern.

I laughed and took his glass before it ended up in shards on the floor. “I bet you say that to all the girls, Norton.” The other men guffawed as he grinned in reply.

“Darned right,” he replied. “I got all a woman could want, right here!” He leaned back in his chair and patted his full, round belly with pride.

“I can see that,” I said, giving him a sassy grin. Norton blushed, as I expected. I knew his boasting came from a deep river of good humor.

My good humor fled the moment I felt a strong palm swat my rear. I turned so fast my long hair whipped my cheeks.

Marty Morrisette grinned in response, his eyes red from too many beers. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Couldn’t help it, Izzy. Your ass looks so good, I just had to have a piece of it!”

I walked toward Marty, my hips swaying the crinolines in a seductive wave. His eyes widened with the light of arousal. I stroked his shoulder gently, then leaned close.

“Touch me like that again, Morrisette, and you’ll draw back a nub.”

He laughed nervously, glancing around the table at his buddies. “I guess I’d better watch it if I want to keep my hand attached, huh, guys?”

I looked him in the eye. “I didn’t say where on your body I’d leave the nub.”

Marty’s mouth dropped open as I turned away. His pals fell off their chairs in laughter, but he said nothing. Finally he got up, threw down some money, and strode from the bar.

I watched him leave. The satisfaction I felt from putting him in his place was short-lived. I could hear it already, loud and clear in my mind. Marty, telling anyone who would listen: “Izzy MacPherson threatened to remove my privates! She’s a witch, just like her sister!”

Great. Something new for the local grapevine to broadcast. Exactly what that lousy reporter guy probably wanted -- juicy gossip. I scolded myself, sorry I hadn’t walked away and avoided a public confrontation with Marty. I couldn’t change it now. I threw back my shoulders and tossed Norton a reassuring wink, then walked to the bar to get him a fresh mug of beer.

“Looks like you put the fear of God into Marty,” Harlan said as I passed by.

I sighed. “Probably just more fear of the MacPherson witches.” I glanced at the front door of the bar. “I shouldn’t have done that, but he pissed me off.”

“No loss,” Bubba said, lifting his glass to his lips. I could always count on Bubba for the shortest, most concise answer possible. He wasn’t just a man of few words. His size and strength made words unnecessary. People took one look at him and decided to do things his way.

“Nice of you to say, Bubba, but it may cost me later.” I glanced at Harlan as I waited for Stewie, the new bartender, to refill Norton’s mug. “Drinking on the job, Chief? Now there’s some scuttlebutt for the town.” I grinned, enjoying the teasing. Harlan and Selene grew up together. I’d always looked at him like an older brother. He usually enjoyed the part.

“Just some off-duty ice tea, Miss Izzy.” He smiled, lifting his glass for me to examine. “You know I follow the rules nowadays.”

I nodded in agreement. “Good thing, too. You know Adrian is always watching you, even if he doesn’t admit it. You even ordered a year’s supply of yellow police tape to please him.”

Harlan smiled, but looked down at the tabletop pensively. “I miss that guy. Too bad he didn’t take back the job. He was better at it than I am.”

I took the filled mug from Stewie, then walked to Harlan’s side. “I wouldn’t say that. You helped hunt down Sean’s killer. I’ll always be grateful to you for your part in that.”

He looked up at me, then took my hand from his shoulder and kissed it. “Wasn’t much of a part, I’d say. But I’ll take your gratitude, Izzy. You’re a sweet girl. Always were.”

Bubba belched, then sat back in his chair. “Yeah. When she ain’t plannin’ on cuttin’ off men’s dicks.”

I stared at Bubba. Then the four of us laughed until our sides hurt.

What a crew. I couldn’t live without them.

I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, then made my way toward Norton. Apparently the men at his table heard the joke, since they were still laughing. I didn’t mind. It was part of life in Fort Bedford.

Only one person remained quiet, watching us. I recognized him the moment his face came into view. That stupid reporter. How long had he been in the bar? How much had he seen? Or worse, heard?

Anger fueled my steps as I advanced toward him. My hands clenched as I stopped in front of his table and glared at him.

“What are you doing here?”

He lifted his glass and took a drink of his beer. Then he grinned that slow, easy slice of porcelain white, just like a movie star.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre variety.

“It’s a public establishment. Besides, I enjoyed the floor show. You’re quite an act.”

I sat down at the table and pulled my chair forward. “Okay. Enough of the games. I don’t know who you are, except that you’re a sleazy freelance guy. So give. Tell me what you want, or so help me, I’ll sic the local police force on you for harassment.”

I glanced at Harlan, Bubba, and Johnny to back up my statement. They turned in unison and gave the stranger a squinty-eyed look. Very Clint Eastwood. I would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious.

“I think you can construe that I’m not joking.”

“Construe,” the man said, rolling the word on his tongue. “I’m impressed. Not a bad vocabulary for a girl who barely made it to high school graduation.”

I sat back in my chair, his comment taking the wind out of my sails. “How did you know that?”

He mirrored my posture, then stretched his long, lean body on the chair like a cat. He’d shed his suit jacket and tie sometime during the day, but the charcoal grey pants and white shirt rolled at the sleeves remained. He crossed his hands over his flat belly and looked at me.

“I know quite a bit about you. Isuelt Maria MacPherson. Age 25. Born in Fort Bedford , Florida. Parents died when she was nine, raised by her older sister, Selene, and her ex-husband Jason. Never left this spot on the map her entire life, unless you count the road trip you took to New Orleans a year ago. Graduate of Fort Bedford High School with a 2.1 average. Not exactly National Honor Society material, but you had a reputation for, um…” He paused as his gaze flicked over my body. “Other kinds of in-depth knowledge. Never went to college, still lives in her childhood bedroom, never did anything for the last seven years except waitress and run around with the local boys.”

I crossed my arms as a cold numbness settled in my bones. “You make me sound ridiculous.”

He nodded. “You might be, except for one thing. You’re also the girlfriend of the first victim in the Missing Fingers Murders. A fact that puts you, Miss MacPherson, in a category all your own. That, and the fact that you’re a witch.”

“I’m not a witch.” I grasped the table edge, my head spinning. How did he know all of this? The public details were easily obtained, but the other things? Who had he been talking to?

“I beg to differ. Your sister may be the more public variety, but you’re definitely a part of the family magic business. You’ve even got a gift. Isn’t that what it’s called? Pre-cognitive dreams. Your childhood friends recalled you telling them a few. Definitely made them apprehensive.”

I stood up, a fresh rush of anger filling me with fire. “That’s it. I don’t have to sit here and listen to some nut who sells trash to the rags. You’re harassing me and you’re following me, Mister…” I paused, realizing he still hadn’t told me his name.

“Baxter. Eric Baxter. I don’t write for ‘the rags,’ as you say. I’m a crime novelist, Miss MacPherson. I’m here to find out what really happened one year ago, starting in the parking lot behind this building. I will find out, with or without your help. But it would be better with it.”

I shoved my hair away from my face in frustration. “You’re insane. Why in the world would I help you? Is this how you approach everyone? Ambush-style?”

He looked down at his hands and frowned. “I’m sorry. I regret my tactics. I’ve tried to contact you for weeks, but you never responded to my phone messages. I admit I became a bit testy from the lack of reply. I apologize for my rudeness.”

Phone messages? I’d turned off my cellphone months ago, ever since the calls from reporters and curiosity seekers began to flood the number. I only turned it on when I needed to make a quick call, and I never opened the numerous messages that were left. I knew what they were about.

“I never got your messages, Mr. Baxter. And yes, I have heard of you. Not that it makes a bit of difference.” I crossed my arms and stood a little taller. “You have no business digging around in a case that’s painful for everyone who lives here. We won’t help you. We’re sick of your kind, making money from the grief of others.” I leaned closer, making sure I had his full attention. “I won’t let you hurt us.”

He grinned at my words. “Really. How are you going to achieve that?”

I walked away from him, then looked back. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

I continued my stride, grasping for dignity but unsteady on my damned black stilettos. I cursed Frank and his fashion sense under my breath. I’d almost escaped when I heard Baxter clear his throat.

“Actually, Miss MacPherson, I might want to know. It could be interesting. Is it anything similar to the surgical procedure you described to Mr. Morrisette?”

I kept walking, but I couldn’t miss the amused chuckle that floated on the air behind me. Hexing was starting to look very, very good. Too bad I’d never given anything Granny taught me much credence.

“You okay?” Johnny gingerly touched my arm as I passed the men’s table.

I glanced at Baxter, then took a shaky breath. He stared at me while drinking his beer, one ankle crossed on the opposite knee. I felt like a mouse ensnared by Selene’s housecat. The cat cruelly played with mice, batting them around, tormenting and teasing them for hours before he finally made the kill. I wouldn’t let Eric Baxter turn me into a helpless rodent. Not in this lifetime.

I returned his stare, giving as good as I got. His dark brown eyes seemed to bore into me, seeking, finding, examining. There was something almost primal about it, as if he was sizing me up, determining how I’d fit against his body, how I’d be when he . . .

I broke the visual contact, alarmed by the sudden flush of heat that flashed from my breasts down to my core. What was the matter with me? I reached out to touch Johnny’s shoulder to restore reality. Calm, sure, faithful Johnny. He’d followed me around like a devoted St. Bernard all through high school. I forced myself to answer with a smile.

“I’m fine. He’s another one of those jerks. A hoity-toity crime novelist this time. Aren’t you impressed?”

Bubba took another sip of his beer, then glanced at Baxter. “I’ll impress him, all right. He’ll have the impression of my nightstick across his head if he doesn’t leave you alone.” He turned toward Harlan and smiled. “All done legally, of course, Chief.”

Harlan gave him a stern look. “Better be. You know the ‘southern cop’ stereotype, Bubba. We don’t want any of that around here.”

I waved my hands at the men. “Now, now. You guys relax. I can handle this one. But I promise, I’ll call 911 if he gets out of hand. Okay?”

The men gave Baxter one last glare, then nodded to me. I smiled, relieved to avert some kind of potential testosterone war in the middle of town. Baxter was a jerk. I’d known my share. Now that he’d revealed himself, the battle was on. With me, not the police force. I didn’t need them to deal with a mere man. In that arena, I was the expert.

*****

The rest of the night moved slowly. The baseball game came on the big screen, filling the bar with more athletically-inclined types jockeying for a good seat. The better the score, the higher my tips in celebration. I enjoyed a winning season.

I allowed myself to take pleasure in the evening, passing around pitchers of beer, refilling popcorn and pretzel bowls. I even whipped out a few plates of nachos, the only hot food Frank could handle in the kitchen. Baxter remained at his table, still nursing that solitary beer. Cheapskate.

I ignored him. He wasn’t in my section, so I wasn’t obligated to talk to him. Mary did her best to be polite, but his cool, arrogant responses to her attempts at small talk led to uncharacteristically poor service from the normally “perfect to a fault” Mar. Not that I felt sorry for him. He deserved everything he received. We were just beginning to deliver his just desserts. The thought of that gave me a delicious feeling of glee. Sarabeth would probably scold me, advising me that I’d get back what I was sending out in energy. Good thing I didn’t buy into that theory. Tormenting Baxter sounded like an excellent idea. Let the cat find out what it’s like to be the mouse.

I walked past Harlan and Bubba, my hands full of empty pitchers. Johnny left earlier in the evening to meet with his mother. He’d grinned like a schoolboy when I winked at him on his way out the door. Such a sweet man. So very much not my type, but sweet. I wasn’t sure what my type was anymore, but Brian came close.

Harlan’s cell phone rang in his pocket, distracting him from the game. He stood and walked outside, the whooping and hollering over the last strikeout drowning out any chance of normal conversation.

I dropped off the pitchers with Stewie, then glanced at my watch. Eleven-thirty. Only two and a half hours until Brian and I flew down IH-10 in his big red pickup, on our way to a wild night. My skin tingled at the thought, filling me with anticipation for his caresses. Oh, yes. I closed my eyes, imagining his hands lightly grazing my belly, edging closer to the spot where I needed him the most. Oh, God. Bliss, ecstasy, rapture . . .

The front door of the bar flew open. Harlan strode in, a dark, purposeful expression on his face. He motioned to Bubba, then huddled with him for a moment. Bubba’s demeanor changed instantly, matching his boss. Curiosity drew me closer. I had to know what was going on.

Harlan glanced up as I approached. “Izzy,” he said, his voice tight. “I need to talk to you.”

The look in his eyes shot panic through me. “What? Is it Sellie? The girls? What’s wrong?”

Harlan pulled me aside to the tiny foyer in front of the restrooms. Bubba stuck his hands into his pockets casually, but his posture revealed his anxiety. He was like a hissing snake, ready to strike.

I grabbed Harlan by the shirt sleeves. “Tell me!”

Harlan swallowed, then the words poured out in a flood. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but I think I ought to. I don’t want you to hear it from anyone else. It’s going to bring up a lot of bad memories for you. I’ve already called Selene. She and Adrian are on their way to pick you up.”

My brain felt muddled, as if sea fog had rolled in and filled it with mist. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s been another murder, Izzy. Not far from here.”

His words entered my mind, but I couldn’t seem to focus on them. Immediately a sense of awareness came over me, piercing the haze in my mind with a shaft of sun-lit clarity. I hadn’t felt that since I was a child, sitting on Granny’s knee as she taught me her secrets. I heard Harlan’s next words echo in my mind before he said them, but I fought against the sound. I couldn’t bear the pain, the hot stab of sorrow ripping my heart.

“At least the deceased is someone you don’t know very well–“

“No,” I moaned, my knees buckling as I tried to stop him.

“Brian Miller.”

CHAPTER THREE

I felt Sellie’s touch, but it didn’t register in my brain. Harlan’s shattering news consumed me. Images raced across my mind like snippets of videotape. Brian, laughing as he lifted me in his arms. His face flushed with after-sex delight, pulling me into a tight embrace as he kissed me. His last words in the hallway that morning. How I’d flicked away his heartfelt admission like an annoying fly. A tear slid down my cheek, sorrow eating away at my sanity. Only a single bright beam of light in my mind kept me from screaming. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I held onto it.

Selene wiped the tear away. “C’mon. We’re here, baby. Adrian’s got the car running. Let’s go home, okay?” She put her arms around me, holding me close.

Selene’s soft, gentle voice, so much like our mother’s, wrapped around me like a velvet cloak. I wanted to turn my face into its warmth and hide myself in her strength and confidence. Instead, I pulled from her embrace. A powerful urge filled my mind, driving me forward in a way I’d never felt before. The thought of denying it caused physical pain. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to comply.

“No. I can’t go home. I need you to take me where they found Brian.”

Selene’s eyes widened. “Why in the world would you want that?”

I stood, drawing myself to my full height, towering over her by six inches. The same trick my father used to pull on my mother when he wanted his way. “It’s important. I need to go there. I have a reason.”

Like our mother, Selene wasn’t put off by the difference in bone structure. She put her hands on her hips and glared. “There isn’t any reason good enough to put yourself through that. You’re coming home. Period.”

“Fine. I’ll drive myself.” I spun on my heel and walked toward back room. I punched out early, then grabbed my purse from the locker.

Frank followed, his brows furrowed over sharp eyes. “Hey! It ain’t two a.m.! What d’ya think you’re doin’, taking off now?”

I turned and put one fist on my hip. “Listen up, Frank. I’ve been completely loyal to you and I’ve never taken a sick day in seven years. I’m leaving now, and you’re not going to say a word about it.”

His mouth dropped open with indignation as he scrambled for a reply. Then he found one. “Um. Okay.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.” I sailed past him and pushed open the door to the main floor.

Adrian now stood by Selene’s side. Both of them had their arms crossed, a united force barring the exit. My steps faltered as I caught sight of their grim expressions. Then I pressed on, determined.

“Stop, Izzy.” Adrian grabbed my arm. “You’re not thinking straight. You’re upset. You shouldn’t be driving in that condition. Please, for me, don’t do this.”

I looked into his deep blue eyes and saw the pain underlying his words. He’d lost his first wife in a terrible automobile accident. One in which he’d been the driver. He’d come a long way in healing from that horror, but I knew as well as he did that a wound like that never completely went away. Compassion for him tempered my mood, but not my resolve.

I put my hand over his. “All right. Then take me to the crime scene. I have to go.”

Selene’s patience fizzled. “This is insane! What possible purpose could you have to force yourself to endure something like that?”

I answered with the only response I knew she couldn’t refute. “A magical one, I think.”

She drew back as if my answer had stung her. Her face grew calm, even as her gaze sharpened with inner focus. I knew she’d used her gift to test the veracity of my words.

“Yes.” She glanced at Adrian and put a hand on his arm. “We’ll all go.”

I could tell by his expression that he thought the idea was ridiculous, but he’d learned a year ago not to question the MacPhersons when it came to things mystical. He nodded with a jerk, then held the door open for us. We walked across the parking lot to his oversized black pickup truck, then headed toward a moment none of us thought we would ever see again.

*****

The first thing I spied was Harlan’s Chief of Police vehicle parked diagonally across the parking lot of Robby’s Package Store. Tall pines swayed in the sea breeze, dwarfing the cinderblock building. Investigation lights shone around the side entrance as yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the wind. Onlookers stood behind the tape, rising and falling around the barrier like the crawling of a worm. Gawkers, the curious, the bored, the truly concerned. All of them jostling each other, trying to get a better look at the action.

My stomach heaved at the sight. Didn’t they realize what their behavior did to the family and friends of the victim? The sideshow carnival nature of their pointing and shouting still burned in my mind. The image of Sean as I’d found him that night a year ago -- stabbed in the back, two fingers missing and taken away as trophies by the killer -- filled my senses.

The murderer had fooled us all. Richard Swann, without a doubt the most charming, attractive, friendliest man in town, had been possessed by an evil entity that killed my Sean, our friends Jake and Mitch, and a poor hapless stranger on vacation. He’d tried to kill Selene and Adrian, too. They’d barely escaped.

I rolled down the window and sucked in huge gulps of air. I couldn’t be sick. I had to hold it together for what I was supposed to do. At the moment, I had no idea what that was. I only knew without a doubt that I had to be there. I rubbed my forehead as the little ray of light pulsed inside my brain like a missile nearing the target.

“Are you all right?” Selene put her arm around my shoulders. I stuck my head into the night wind, grateful for the cool tang of salt in the air. The seashore lay a block away. We were only three blocks from Casey’s. Oh God. So close.

“Yes, I’m good.” I patted Selene’s hand to reassure her. The shaft of light grew stronger, leading me instinctively. “Over there, Adrian. Park over there.” I pointed to a dark area in the trees that I couldn’t see. Yet I knew there would be space there.

Adrian pulled into the darkness, straight into an area the exact size of his truck. Selene gave me a strange look but said nothing. As soon as the truck came to a stop, I got out. Stilettos are not recommended footwear for traipsing across weeds and broken pavement, but somehow my feet flew over the obstacles. My entire focus locked on the lights ahead.

Harlan took one look at me and immediately went into action. He ducked under the yellow tape and caught me before I reached the area.

“Izzy-girl, what are you doing? I told you about this so you’d stay away, not rush over! Selene, get her out of here!” His hard, accusatory look at my sister briefly shook me from my single-minded pursuit.

“Don’t blame her,” I said, catching Harlan’s shoulder. “I insisted. I have to be here. You have to let me. Look, Adrian’s here. Let him work with you as a consultant. Just let me pass, Harlan, or you’ll have to arrest me.” I fixed my gaze on his face, waiting for his answer.

“Damn! What is it with you women?”

“Women? What do you mean?”

Harlan glanced over his shoulder at his men. I followed his gaze, then gasped when I saw who stood with them.

“Becca? Why is Sean’s sister here?”

Harlan finally released me. “Same as you. She says she has to be here.”

“Let me go to her, Harlan. Please?”

Harlan glanced at Selene and Adrian, then finally nodded. “Okay. But stay back. Selene, you take her home if things go south, even if you have to hog-tie her.”

“You’ve got my promise.” Selene gave me a look that confirmed her willingness to follow his order.

I turned and began to work my way toward Becca. I felt conspicuous in my frilly, flimsy costume, but I knew more important things were at play. Why had Becca come? How had she known about what happened? I kept my gaze away from the crime scene, not sure I could bear seeing Brian. Oh, God. Why Brian? He did nothing but spread smiles and laughter to everyone he knew. He was the total opposite of his Miller relatives. Full of light and love. A sob broke through my defenses, but I swallowed hard. I had to focus on Becca.

Her long black hair, so like Sean’s, hung silky and straight down her back as she faced the crime scene. Her thin, almost bony shoulders rose sharp beneath the spaghetti straps of her lime green top. They shook with tears. I reached out for her. She immediately turned and propelled herself into my arms, as if she’d been expecting me to appear.

“Oh, Izzy!” Becca buried her face in my hair.

I held her slim frame and stroked her back, the way I did with Steph and Lissa when they cried. Becca sobbed in the same uncontrolled, desperate way I’d seen in the girls after their father abandoned them. How I wished I could curse my shit-for-brains ex-brother–in–law. Life as a toad would be far too good for him.

I hugged Becca tighter and looked up at Johnny. His face revealed his discomfort with being assigned babysitter to the wailing female. He’d rather face down bad guys with guns than deal with the truly frightening things, like human emotions. I shook my head. Men.

“How long has she been here?”

“About fifteen minutes. As soon as Harlan, Bubba, and I arrived, she pulled up behind us.”

I lifted Becca’s face to mine. “Becca? How did you know about this, sweetie?”

She sobbed and wiped her face with the ends of her long hair. “P-police scanner. Bought it after Sean, after he-“ She dissolved into tears again. I held her close, willing her to pull it together so I could investigate why this weird inner light demanded I be present. Was I supposed to be here for Becca? That made sense. Yet it felt like more.

Good grief. I was starting to sound like Selene and Granny. What was the matter with me? I couldn’t control my thoughts. My mind was like a rusty faucet had been turned on after years of neglect. I didn’t have the tools to shut it off. Not yet, anyway.

I glanced over my shoulder, then nudged Becca. “Look, it’s your Mom. Did you know she was coming?”

She shook her head, then let go of me to reach for her mother and include her in our embrace.

I noticed that several members of the Miller family had arrived as well. That didn’t bode well for Selene and me, but that was beside the point. They had to be here, just as I did. Just as Becca did. Was this some kind of strange, ancestral-tribal thing? The need to be where our loved ones had spent their final moments in life? The pull of energy that drew people to build shrines to honor them in those exact spots?

The first wail rose over the crowd as Gladys Miller caught sight of her grandson. I bowed my head at the sound, along with Becca and her mother. We cried together.

A man I recognized as the local coroner tapped us on the shoulder. “Ladies, you’ll have to move aside. We’re going to remove the deceased now.”

I lifted my head and looked at him. He paused for a moment as a glimmer of recognition swept over his face.

“Oh, I–Miss MacPherson, Miss Nelson, Mrs. Nelson. I’m sorry. I can’t believe it’s happened again.”

“Neither can we,” I whispered. I turned Becca over to her mother and stepped closer to the coroner. His name was Daniels. That was all I recalled. Those frightening days a year ago were like a blur to me at times. Other times they cut me with the precision of a diamond.

“Please, Mr. Daniels. Will you let me see him?”

He pulled back a bit. “Mr. Miller? Were you friends with the deceased?”

I swallowed, struggling to keep my voice even. “Yes. Please, I know you understand. I won’t get in the way.”

Daniels glanced around, then nodded. “All right. Come with me.”

I followed him through the crowd, trying to catch Selene’s eye. Adrian, Harlan, and Bubba stood with their heads together, deep in discussion. Selene stood slightly apart from them, her eyes half-closed. I wondered what kind of spell she was conjuring. Most likely a healing spell. I could feel the energy of it radiating from her. If only it worked the way Granny used to tell us it did. I nodded in her direction, seeking to comfort her fears. She frowned in return, clearly not convinced.

The yellow police tape stopped my progress. I looked up, my hands trembling. There lay Brian. Big, bold, beautiful Brian, face down in the dirt, blood covering the back of his blue denim jacket. His blonde hair fluttered in the breeze across his forehead, as it held one last glimmer of life. I stooped down, trying to get as close as I could. I reached for him, my fingers curled as if to take his hand. More tears slid over my cheeks, but I didn’t sob. A cold, numb deadness held reign in my spirit now, slaying the gleam of hope Brian had given me.

I glanced at the ground near his body. A brown bag lay next to him, the top of a dark green bottle sticking out. I recognized the label. My favorite champagne. He’d stopped at the package store to buy us something special. He’d been there to get something for me. Panic rose in my throat, cutting off my air. It was my fault. If I hadn’t suggested this night in Mobile, he wouldn’t have been there. He wouldn’t be dead, he–

“How dare you come here!”

My left foot slid at the sound of Gladys Miller’s shrill voice. I glanced up at her, reaching wildly for a handhold before I fell.

“Get out! You don’t belong here, you Godless slut! Look at you, all dressed up for whoring! Get out! Get out!” Gladys advanced toward me, her arm raised to strike. I slipped and landed on my back in the dirt.

“Stop it!”

Sean’s mother rushed to my side. “I know you’re hurting, Gladys. God only knows how well I know. But so does Izzy. You leave her alone. It doesn’t serve Brian’s memory for us to act like this.” She bit her lip, then drew in a shuddering breath. “It doesn’t serve Sean’s, either.”

Gladys deflated before my eyes, the raging harpy replaced by a crone of grief. “Just make her leave, Mary Jane. Make her leave.” Gladys turned her face into Brian’s father’s shoulder and they embraced. Darrell Miller gave me a look cold enough to kill, then drew his mother away.

“I’m sorry.” I hung onto Mary Jane’s arm as she helped me up. “I didn’t want to make a scene. I just–-“

“Needed to be here. I know.” Mary Jane glanced toward her daughter, still at the back of the crowd. “Becca said the same thing. I could barely keep up with her after she flew down the driveway like a bat out of hell.” She brushed the dirt from my skirt, like a mother with her small child. “Are you all right? She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“No. I’m pretty tough.”

At that moment my own mother figure made her way through the crowd. Selene reached out and grabbed me, her eyes wide.

“What happened? I could feel the energy surge, then I heard the yelling. Are you injured?”

“I’m all right, I–“

“Move away, ladies.” The coroner’s voice rang out over our words. In the melee, I hadn’t noticed that they’d prepared Brian’s body to be removed. They lifted the yellow police tape and rolled past us with the red body bag on the gurney. I reached out and touched it before anyone could stop me.

“I’m sorry, Brian. So sorry,” I whispered. Tears of shame began to flow. Why had this happened? What did it mean?

Selene cocked her head to the left as if she’d heard someone call out her name. Then she turned to me with a look of utter surprise.

“You have some explaining to do.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me away.

I shook my head at her, confused. “About what?”

She tugged me close, her voice low. “About you and Brian Miller.”

I froze inside, but forced my mouth to move. “We went to high school together. I’m sorry he’s dead. I can’t believe another murder has happened in Fort Bedford. I’m scared and hurt. What else do you want to know?”

Selene looked at me, her mouth set in a thin, stern line. Then she jerked me forward again. For a tiny thing, she had remarkable strength. “For starters, you can explain why his spirit is lingering in the area, telling me how much he loved you. That’s not just a high school acquaintance, sister. He’s also saying you know who killed him.”

I skidded to a stop. “No, I don’t!”

“Home,” Selene ordered, pulling me toward Adrian. “Right now.”

As my sister dragged me through the throng of onlookers, I sensed an intense, interested, probing gaze focused on me alone, despite the chaos around us. Without even looking up, I knew who it was. Despite my inner will to turn away, I glanced to where I knew he stood.

Eric Baxter. He nodded as I strode past, then returned to writing in his notebook. But not before he mouthed the words, “see you later.”

*****

In the days after Sean’s murder, I’d been interrogated several times by the police. However, they had nothing on the expert in getting answers. My sister beat them by a mile.

Selene crossed her arms as she paced the family kitchen, her gaze on the floor as she planned her next question. Sarabeth sat at the old pine table with me, holding my hand out of sight. She gave it a reassuring squeeze, then looked up at Selene.

“Shouldn’t we all go to bed? Talkin’ always goes better after a few hours sleep.”

Selene shook her head. “No one is going to bed until I find out what Izzy’s been hiding from us.”

“You mean from you,” I replied, unable to keep the snippy tone from my voice. “Everyone else is willing to let me live my own life.”

Her head snapped up. I immediately regretted firing the first salvo. Damn! When would I learn?

She stood in front of me, her hands on her hips. “I don’t deserve that kind of response. I’ve taken care of you all your life. Given you everything I had.”

My head dropped to my chest, unsure how I could ever make her understand how I felt. Now probably wasn’t the time to try for that. Instead, I lifted my eyes to hers and reached for her hand.

“I know I owe you a lot, Selene. If I haven’t thanked you enough or shown you the right kind of appreciation, I’m sorry. But it was never a matter of me not feeling those things. I did.”

The anger slowly trickled from her like water from a sponge. She sank into the chair across from me and leaned over the table.

“I know. Just tell me the truth, Izzy. That’s all I’m asking.”

I glanced at Sarabeth for support, but she shook her head and motioned me back to my sister. No other choice but full steam ahead.

“All right, but I don’t want you to say anything until I’m finished.”

Selene nodded, her soft gray eyes solemn. She reminded me so much of our mother at times. I was glad for that. Over the years, the memories of how Mama looked and sounded, how her sweet caresses made all the pain go away, began to fade. Without my sister, Mama would truly be gone forever.

I knew I could do this. It was time to come clean. I took a deep breath, then dove in. “Brian Miller and I have been lovers for the past three weeks. We’ve met almost every day after I got off work from Casey’s, and yes, we met in my room upstairs. I didn’t tell you because our families have generations of bad blood between us. But Brian and I didn’t.”

Selene opened her mouth to speak, but I held up a hand.

“You promised.”

Her mouth closed, but her eyes spoke volumes. I dropped my gaze to my hands, then grimaced when I saw my white knuckles. I spread my hands on the table, willing myself to proceed.

“We were going to go out of town together tonight, to Mobile. Brian must have stopped at the package store to buy us something special. I saw -“ My voice cracked, but I made myself continue. “I saw my favorite brand of champagne at the murder scene, lying next to him. If he hadn’t gone there to please me, he wouldn’t be dead. I know that. I can’t change it now. I only know that I had to go there. This white light in my head wouldn’t let me say no.”

Sarabeth, who was under no obligation to keep silent, leaned against me. “White light?” She gave Selene a meaningful look and nodded. Selene returned the nod, her angry expression shifting to curiosity.

I ignored them. I had to finish this now or I’d never finish. “I don’t know why I was meant to go there. Maybe I was sent in order to punish me? First Sean, then Brian. Maybe I’m cursed. Men who love me, they wind up dead.” Tears slid down my cheeks, but I barely noticed them. “I don’t know why Brian would tell you I know who killed him. I don’t know anything. I only know I’m at the center of this, again. It’s my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” Selene took my hand and held it tight. “This is not your fault. Things like this happen because there are a great many things at play in the weaving of our destinies. Not just yours, but Brian’s, Sean’s, their ancestors, all of us, everyone in Fort Bedford and beyond. Things look random because we can’t foresee how the life weavings of everyone else becomes entangled with ours. We may never understand it. But everything that happens, even the terrible things, are part of the bigger tapestry we’re creating by being on this earth.”

I pulled my hand from hers. “So it’s entirely possible that my pattern is to bring pain and sorrow to everyone I meet.”

“No, you’re misunderstanding me. It’s hard to wrap your head around this. It took me years to do that, and I’m still working on it. All I know is that you are not at fault here, Iz. But you are a part of it. We need to find out what that part is, so you can fulfill your destiny.”

I laughed, rubbing my wet cheeks with the heels of my palms. “My destiny? I think that’s pretty clear cut, don’t you? Waste my life until I die. I mean, isn’t that the town consensus? The only thing I’m good for is fucking?” I pushed from the table and strode to the window, shame strangling me.

“Don’t talk that way, child!” Sarabeth cried. “If your Mama or Daddy could hear you say that about yourself, they’d -“

“They’d probably agree. I’m nothing compared to you, or them, or Selene and Adrian. I’m aware of that.” I stared out the glass, then glanced up at the waning moon. Heading toward darkness. Just like me.

“Isuelt Maria MacPherson.” Selene slowly rose to her feet.

Oh, great. The full name address. Here it comes. I braced myself for the hurricane about to strike.

“If you really believe that about yourself, then there’s only one thing to do about it. Find out the truth.”

I turned toward her. “How?”

Selene glanced at Sarabeth. Some kind of unspoken message passed between them. Then Sarabeth looked up at me.

“The truth about who you are, child. The white light in your head? It’s just like your Daddy. He had that, too. I wasn’t sure if any of you children would receive that. He wasn’t a MacPherson. He took the name when he married your Mama, just like all the men who marry MacPherson women.”

Sarabeth glanced at Selene and smiled. “With the exception of that son of a bitch ex of yours.”

“Thank you,” Selene replied, a smile on her lips.

Sarabeth continued. “Your Daddy. He was just as magical as your Mama or your Grandmama. They were witches, right as rain. Great ones, too. Just like Selene. But you, child. You’re your Daddy’s baby. You look like him, except for that MacPherson red hair and those big blue eyes that you get from your grandpappy MacPherson.”

“I barely remember Daddy,” I said softly.

“He lives in you. You have his gift.” Sarabeth shook her head, then reached for my hand. “I know you’ve been blocking your talents, child. I’ve watched you do that ever since your Mama and Daddy died. I wasn’t sure you’d ever open up again. But now you have.”

I covered her hand with mine. “I don’t want these gifts. I can’t take it, Sara B.”

“But that’s just it, child. If this has happened, it can mean only one thing.”

Something in her voice caused my stomach to quiver. “What’s that?”

She fixed her sherry-brown gaze on me. “The need for your gift in the service of another outweighs your unwillingness to receive it.”

I sat down at the table, my knees weak. “But I don’t know how to do anything.”

Selene reached toward me. “You’ll learn. We’ll find a way to teach you.”

I stared at her, unsure what to say. Did I want to learn? Did I have a choice? What kind of gift did Daddy have? If it wasn’t witchery, what was it? The urge to run upstairs and lock the door pulled at me with sharp hooks. I didn’t want to do this. I wanted my simple, easy life. I wanted . . .

Selene nodded her head at Sarabeth. “I’ll need you to watch the girls tomorrow morning. I think the first thing to do is to go to the package store parking lot and try to get a read on what happened to Brian.”

The white light in my head suddenly sparked, like a firework in my mind. A rush of energy filled my body with tingling awareness. I was still afraid. But I also knew with silent certainty that my running had to end. There was no other way.

I drew a long breath, lifted my chin, then stood to face Selene.

“You’re not going without me.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The next day began before dawn.

“Get up.” Selene pulled my blankets down, baring my shoulders to the morning chill. “Meet me downstairs.”

“What time is it?” I pushed my hair from my face, the world still hazy and out of focus.

She faced me, her usual smile subdued. “It’s time for you to begin.”

Begin? My groggy mind sought a meaning for the word. Then the events of the day before rushed over me like a wildfire. I nodded and grabbed my jeans. “Give me five minutes.”

Three minutes to brush my teeth and pull on a T-shirt, two minutes with my head stuck out the window for a quick cigarette. I was good to go.

I walked down the stairs. Sarabeth had already arrived. The gentle clanging of fry pans in the family kitchen, coupled with the aroma of fresh bacon and fried potatoes, announced her presence. Selene sat in the living room, shuffling a deck of tarot cards on the coffee table.

“Come and sit with me. Draw a card.”

I walked to the couch and sat beside her, then drew a card from the deck. I saw the image of a young woman surrounded by seven gold cups floating in the air above her head. Each chalice overflowed with a different treasure as the girl stared at them, her chin in her hand and a faraway look in her eyes. I turned it over and showed it to Selene.

“What does it mean? Why do we have to do this?”

Selene scrutinized the card, a small frown between her brows. “You know I pull a tarot card every morning to get an advance look at the energies of the day. You might want to start the same practice.”

“What good is it if I don’t understand what I’m looking at?” For some reason I longed to escape from the deck, from the cards ripe with messages I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I craved the life I’d once led, walking along the beach with a beer in one hand and a pack of ciggies in the other, oblivious to the things in the world that could do us harm.

Sean and Brian’s murders changed that. Now this “thing” in my head wouldn’t go away, not even in my sleep. The frosting on an unsavory cake.

As if on cue, the insistent ray of light flickered like a candle in my mind, flaring and receding. I closed my eyes, willing it to stop. What was happening to me?

“You could learn, if you wanted to. Take your card, for instance. The Seven of Cups. I call it the card of illusions. It’s also a card of choices. Out of all the cups offered to the woman, only one is the right choice for her. The others appear attractive, but they aren’t real. Their appeal is only an illusion. She’s become confused by the outer shell of things. She isn’t allowing herself to see the truth, but it will be revealed eventually.” Selene stared at the card and nodded, as if it spoke directly to her mind.

My tarot phone line was apparently out of order. I couldn’t perceive anything from the cards. All I could feel when I held them was a tingling sensation, like butterflies dancing across my arms. I didn’t call that guidance.

My dreams last night were even stranger. Wild dervishes of color and sound, like being sucked down a tunnel and popping out into a different world on the other side. I hadn’t dreamed like that since I was a child. I didn’t like it. I decided not to tell Selene about my experiences. She had enough to worry about now, thanks to me.

“What is it?”

I looked up, then realized that my face had betrayed my thoughts. I had to work on that flaw. Among all the others. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering how I’m ever going to catch up and be like you. It seems impossible.”

Selene placed the card back in the deck, then reclined against the brocade of the old sofa. The sun rose outside, casting the room in a soft, pink glow. The red strands in Selene’s dark hair lit up like fire, encircling her with a halo of wisdom. I knew I could count on her. Yet something in me pulled away, telling me that I shouldn’t lean on anyone this time. The notion of going it alone frightened me more than I was willing to admit. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t sure I would ever be.

“That’s the thing.” Selene crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window next to us, as if the maiden sun held the answer. “If you’re like Daddy instead of Granny or Mama, you won’t be like me. We’ll have some similarities, but your work will be different. Sarabeth and I will have to come up with a different way to train you. I’m not sure we can do that in the time we have. Every hour that goes by, Brian’s killer moves farther away from capture. We can’t let him win. We can’t let him do what –“ Selene swallowed hard, then looked at me. “We can’t let him do what Richard Swann did.”

I reached out and took her hand. “You couldn’t have changed what happened last year. You did everything in your power to save those men.”

Selene placed her left hand over mine, then shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I ignored everything Granny taught me. I laughed at it, made fun of it, and most of all, I hid from it. I was afraid of the magic, of what people would think about me, of what it might mean if I let go and be like her. My fear and irresponsibility allowed four people to be killed. If I’d known what to do from the beginning, I could have stopped him, I could have –“

I pulled at her hands sharply. “Cut it out. I don’t want to hear that anymore. You’ve rammed it into my head for years that everything happens for a reason. If you were meant to save those people, it would have happened. Torturing yourself won’t bring them back.”

Selene smiled gently, her eyes shimmering with tears. Then she leaned toward me. “You should tell yourself that about Sean.”

I detested when she cornered me. I pulled away and crossed my arms. “That’s different.”

“Sure it is.” She wiped her eyes with the edge of her long, flowing skirt, then gave me a smug look that said she’d won the point. She picked up the cards and shuffled them, then slipped them into a black velvet bag tied at her waist. Granny’s old craft bag, the pouch she used to carry her magical supplies wherever she traveled. It was right for Selene to wear it now.

What was right for me? I looked out the window, awash in a sense of failure. This would never work. I didn’t even know what I was. At least, not yet. How could I possibly learn enough in time to make a difference? I felt like giving up. Yet surrender was out of the question. We had an appointment with a crime scene this morning. At least Selene would be there. She’d know what to do.

“I’ll have to speak to Sarabeth.” Selene stood and smoothed her skirt around her hips, her expression thoughtful. “We may need to do something drastic.”

I rose to stand next to her. “Drastic? Like what?”

Selene smiled and tossed her dark hair over her shoulders. “You’ll see.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” I followed her toward the kitchen, but I already knew the answer.

My sister, The MacPherson, had spoken.

*****

The parking lot around the package store stood deserted in the early morning sunshine. The usual customers were most likely at home, sleeping off the effects of the merchandise. At this hour, I would have been sleeping off the effects of a bottle of French champagne and Brian’s loving touch. I would have awakened to his kisses, spent the day in his arms. Instead, my sister and I faced a lonely piece of asphalt, trying to find clues to his killer.

I pushed my wind-whipped hair out of my eyes as Selene edged her little Toyota near the curb of the store. A shiver I couldn’t control shimmied down my back. I turned toward Selene for comfort, but her expression showed that she’d already made the jump from concerned sister to psychic detective. I decided not to intrude on her concentration. We’d need all the help we could get.

We exited the car. Selene led me across the parking lot, then lifted the police tape so we could access the area. I glanced around, tension hammering at my nerves. What if we were caught? I had the itchy sensation that someone watched us. I turned around, walking backward to give the area a good look. Nothing but old boxes and a rusty green dumpster interrupted my view.

I swung forward, then caught sight of the pale red stains on the asphalt. I skidded to a stop. Brian’s death filled my mind, my heart, my breath. He had been so near. Now he was gone, in an instant. I touched my stomach, pushing on it to still its sudden lurch inside me. Life no longer made sense. The randomness of violence, the insanity of death. Why? Would I ever stop asking that question?

Selene seemed oblivious to the horror around her. The sea breeze blew her curls about her shoulders as she scanned the landscape. I wrapped my arms around my belly, willing my panic to subside. I couldn’t help her if I lost control. I sucked in a tentative breath and held it. I’d make it through this, no matter what.

Selene knelt down and gently touched the edge of one of the crimson stains. She closed her eyes to center herself, then began to enter her trance state. I watched, fascinated. I hadn’t seen this in years, not since the last time Granny used the gift to locate one of our cats who’d gone missing. I could still recall Granny’s face, alight with a serenity I could only imagine. Then she came out of her meditation and told me to run down the road to the Galloway’s property. “Socks” had been closed up in their garage. I’d done as she asked, to the irritation of our neighbor who insisted Socks couldn’t possibly be inside. Sure enough, Mr. Galloway opened the door and out scooted our cat, hungry and frightened but very much alive.

I knew the gift worked. I knew Selene used it to solve the murders last summer. Yet I still wanted to hold onto the notion that magic and gifts were basically futile. No, I didn’t blame Selene for not acting fast enough during the murders. I knew what she’d been up against. I also knew that the gift only seemed to work after the fact. If it couldn’t stop a murder before it happened, what good was it? I shook my head, my thoughts warring with the white light in my mind. I lifted my palms and pressed them against my temples. This had to be some kind of madness. The effect of too many beers and cigarettes? Some kind of universal punishment for an active sex life? No, maybe it was a brain tumor. All I knew was that it neared the unbearable level.

I stepped beneath the shade of a tree and prepared myself to wait. I was supposed to be here for Selene. Of that, I was sure. I vowed to be the backup she needed.

Minutes passed as my sister slipped deeper into her connection. Her face shone like the paintings I’d seen in high school art class of glowing, magnificent Madonnas. The years seemed to slip from her expression as beauty flowed from her in waves. A sense of awe filled me. I wondered how I could possibly ever come close to this. She had so much experience, so much knowledge. I had nothing. I couldn’t even force myself to believe in my gift. All I had was this lousy white light, giving me grief.

I continued to watch her, determined to be as calm and centered as she. I glanced around the parking lot, taking in the swaying pines, the red-stained pavement, the flapping plastic tape. At first I held myself in tight control. Then subtly, the energies shifted. The movement of the trees and the brightness of the colors turned my stomach queasy, as if I’d boarded a roller coaster after breakfast. The humid morning air, at first cool and brisk, now smothered me like a clinging, moldy cloth. I pulled at my T-shirt, anxious for air. A bitter, nauseating surge began to claw its way up my throat. Images of Sean and Brian flashed in my mind, joined with shots of Jake, Mitch, and blood. So much blood. I could taste the metallic zing of it in my mouth. My hands suddenly went slick, as if I’d dipped them into the circles of crimson on the ground. I wiped them on my jeans, but the sensation wouldn’t stop. Panic rose in my chest, but my lungs closed off. I felt myself drowning in a dark sea. I backed away from the murder scene, unable to think of anything but escaping with my life. I tripped over the root of a pine tree and landed hard against the bark. I barely felt the impact.

The noise of my fall broke Selene’s focus. She rushed toward me. “Izzy! Are you all right?”

I lifted my hands in front of my face. “I need to get out of here. Too much blood, Sellie. I can’t breathe.”

Selene frowned, then glanced around her. “I don’t see any blood, Izzy. Just the stains on the ground.” She shook her head sharply as she cupped my cheeks with her hands. “Damn it! I should have come alone. You’re too young for this. You’re not ready.”

Her words pulled the edge of the knife from my panic. I shook my head. “No. I had to be here. The white light said I had to come. What is this thing, Sellie? Am I losing my mind? What’s happening to me?”

Selene gathered me in her arms and held me tight. “I’m sorry, Izzy. Sarabeth and I waited too long. You’re moving too fast for us. It’s time to call Aunt Margaret. I see that now.”

I sat back as my mind cleared. “Aunt Margaret? Daddy’s sister?”

Selene nodded. “She’s the person we need right now. She can show you what you need to know.”

I hadn’t seen Aunt Margaret for several years. I’d arranged to be out of the house during her visits. She scared the hell out of me. Her strange clothes and weird sense of humor sent my childhood alarm system into overdrive. She was off the wall, in my opinion. Just my luck that the looniest person in the family would be the only one able to understand my gift.

“Aunt Margaret. That figures.” I pushed past the fear turning my mouth to cotton and allowed Selene to pull me to my feet. “Whatever. Let’s call her. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“That’s the spirit. I think.” Selene frowned, disappointment with my attitude written in her expression. “I’d rather hear you say you have everything to gain.”

“Not today.” I eyed the faint red stains on the asphalt. “Maybe not ever.” I took a deep breath and tried to focus on what was important. The white light flared, turning my thoughts back to Selene. “Wait. What did you see in your vision?”

Selene crossed her arms over her chest as if a sudden chill struck her. “I didn’t see anything.”

I grabbed her shoulder. “What do you mean? You were in a trance. I saw you.”

She shook her head. The pain in her eyes took me aback as she lifted her gaze to mine.

“Sometimes when I’m not supposed to see, all I get from the Otherworld is a gray fog. Nothing can penetrate it. They block me from information, from seeing what’s hidden. It rarely happens, but this time it did. I’m sorry, Iz. The Otherworld doesn’t want me involved. I’m not allowed inside.”

“What are we going to do? Who’s supposed to be involved?” I knew the answer before she spoke, the impact of it sending a tremor down my back.

“You are.”

I dropped my hand and backed away. “No. I can’t be the one. I don’t know anything. I can’t do it!”

“It’s not in my control, Izzy. I don’t make the choices. All I can do is follow the guidance I’m given in order to help you. That guidance says to call Aunt Margaret. That’s what we’re going to do.”

I turned away, a fresh shot of distress searing through my body. That’s when I saw him, staring at us through the crook of a pine tree.

“Oh, shit.”

Selene walked to my side. “What? Do you see something?”

Anger bubbled inside me, erasing my anxiety. “Oh, yeah. Eric Baxter. He’s been watching us, Sellie. He’s seen everything.”

“Eric Baxter? Is he the reporter you talked about yesterday?” Selene leaned toward me to catch a glimpse of him.

“He’s not a reporter. He’s a crime novelist. Like there’s much difference.” I decided to take the bull by the horns. I lifted up on my tiptoes, then waved wildly. “Hey, you! Baxter! In the trees! Yeah, I see you! Get the hell out of here!”

Selene grabbed my arm. “What are you doing?”

My simmering anger shifted into cold resolve. “Getting rid of the fly by drawing it out. Then I’ll apply the swatter.” I put my hands on my hips and waited.

He walked toward us, his familiar white smile in place. I couldn’t help but notice he looked almost attractive in his dressed-down clothes. A far cry from the stiff, uptight suit I’d seen him wear at the restaurant. Jeans and a red button–down shirt atop a brand new pair of cowboy boots. Very Yankee-guy-trying-to-pass–for–good–ol’–boy. This must be one of those “wolf in sheep’s clothing” moments.

“Ladies,” he said, stepping over the weeds at the edge of the parking lot. “Lovely day for disturbing a crime scene, isn’t it?” He nodded to Selene. “Good morning, Mrs. MacPherson. You’ve done this before, of course. Then again, your fiancé is no longer police chief. You might meet a little more opposition this time.”

“I doubt it,” Selene replied, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. The look in her eyes could curdle milk. I wondered if Baxter had a clue how close he was coming to a Selene Smackdown. I pitied him the experience. Then again, maybe not.

Selene pulled me under the yellow tape, then faced Baxter. “I live in this town. I’ve earned the trust of the locals and the police. You, however, are a stranger with the intent to violate our privacy for profit. Excuse our lack of Southern hospitality in the face of such a pitiful loser.”

Baxter put a hand to his heart. “You wound me deeply. But I can take it. Go ahead, do some more of your witchy things. I’ll just stand over here in the shade and watch. You see, I’m vitally interested in your work, Mrs. MacPherson. Consider me a student of truth.”

“I consider you a son of a b–-”

I turned toward Selene and put my hand on her shoulder. “Stop. Ignore him. He isn’t worth it.”

I turned to Baxter. “Sorry, but we’re done for the day. Show’s over. You’ll have to go somewhere else to find entertainment. May I suggest the morgue? With your personality, you’d fit right in.”

He laughed. “Touché, Miss MacPherson. People call you Izzy, don’t they?” He crossed his arms and gave me a considering look. “You’re more than meets the eye, Izzy. Soft on the inside, hard as nails on the outside. As I said, you’re a woman out of the ordinary. I like you.”

I lifted my chin. “Too bad the feeling will never be mutual.” How dare he think he had the slightest idea what I was like? Jerk.

I turned to my sister, giving him my back. “Come on, Sellie. The garbage is starting to smell around here.” I took her arm and walked across the parking lot toward the car. Sellie kept her gaze on me, a peculiar expression on her face. I was too focused on maintaining my composure to question it.

“I’ll see you later,” Baxter called out.

“You keep saying that,” I yelled in reply as I climbed into the car. “But it won’t happen.”

He leaned against the signpost of the package store and shook his head. I saw his mouth move as he said something in response, but I rolled up the window and shut him out. Let him think he could rattle me. Men like him were easy to defeat.

*****

I had to get out of the house. As much as I loved Sellie and Sarabeth, as much as I appreciated the extra attention the girls gave me in consolation, all I really wanted was to be alone. I grabbed my sweater coat and pulled it on, then slipped out the back door. Just a few minutes on Raven’s Beach. It couldn’t hurt. It could definitely help.

“Aunt Izzy, where are you going?”

Damn. Caught already. I turned toward my youngest niece, Lissa. She hung upside down by her knees from the branch of a nearby tree, so much like a little fruit bat that I had to smile.

Or was she more like the Hanged Man from the Tarot deck? I couldn’t remember what that card meant. Something to do with patience? Yeah, right. Someone needed to give the Universe a clue that wasn’t one of my virtues.

“I’m going for a short walk, baby girl,” I replied, calling her by the nickname all of us had used since she was born.

She dropped to her feet in a one smooth swing. I wondered if Sellie should put her in gymnastic classes. I hadn’t been able to pull a move like that in years.

“Mama said we should stay home. It isn’t safe, after what happened to Mr. Miller.”

I drew in a trembling breath, then pasted on a smile for her sake. “You know your mama worries too much. I just need some air. Tell her I went to Raven’s Beach, if she asks. Okay?”

Lissa nodded. “Steph will be mad you got to leave. Mama wouldn’t let her go on her date tonight because of Mr. Miller. Steph said she’s–what’s the word–pissed?” Lissa nodded enthusiastically. “That’s the word. Pissed. Sarabeth yelled at her to get some soap for her mouth. That’s when I went outside to play.”

I gave Lissa a hug and laughed. “Some things never change,” I murmured against her soft, dark hair. “Your Mama was just like that when she was Steph’s age.”

Lissa looked up at me, her eyes huge. “Mama? Really?”

“Unbelievable, isn’t it? You go play now, baby. I’ll be back later.”

She ran toward the tree, then turned to face me. “I’m sorry you’re so sad, Aunt Izzy.”

I lifted my chin toward her. “I’m not sad, honey. Don’t worry.”

“Yes, you are.” Her wide, solemn brown eyes would not be denied. “You have the sad colors all around you. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

A tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. I’d forgotten Lissa’s gift of reading auras. No sense in lying to her now. “I’ll be okay, baby. Thank you for caring.”

She nodded, and then swiftly climbed the tree, a vision of awkward elbows and skinny legs like any other eleven-year old girl. Yet the wisdom inside her was so deep and pure, I knew that I was looking at The MacPherson of the future. Our family would be in good hands.

The sun neared the western horizon by the time I reached the shore. The sunset was beautiful, as always. The pink and purple sky of dusk, split by the last kiss of the sun. Ordinarily I’d sit on the sand and glory in the vision in front of me. Tonight, nothing could penetrate. Only cold darkness surrounded me.

I’d taken the night off from work in order to stay with Brian in Mobile. Now I spent that time mourning his death instead. I pulled my sweater tight around me. Tears hovered at the edge of my control. I fought them with all my strength. I couldn’t allow them. If I did, they might never stop. I would cry until death took me.

I ran down the dunes to the edge of the water, then sat in the cool sand as the tiny waves rippled around my jean-clad thighs. I prayed for the sea to take away my pain, but it only seemed to increase. My breath came fast and hard, the anger and loss burning inside of me. It wasn’t fair. Not Mama, not Daddy. Not Sean or Brian. Every bright light I’d had in my life–all gone. Extinguished, forever.

The weight of my sorrow dragged through my chest in a choking, bulbous mass. A strangled cry broke loose inside me, like a wild animal freed from its cage. I grabbed huge handfuls of sand, then threw them into the waves. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I hated this world. I hated the power of death. I hated the way nothing could change the things that had happened. Most of all, I hated myself. Stupid, useless, helpless me, watching everyone I loved taken away. I wailed and shrieked, like the legendary Banshees who warned souls that the end of life neared. I wanted the pain to stop. I flung the wet sand as hard as I could, covering my hair, my face, my clothes. I didn’t care. Let the ocean bury me. I wanted it to swallow me up, the way it had killed Richard Swann. I couldn’t endure another day.

I picked up another handful of sand to fling into the waves, but a strong, firm hand stopped me. I jerked my gaze over my shoulder at the person obstructing me. Eric Baxter, with his fingers around my wrist.

“Let me go!” I screamed above the waves.

“No!” he yelled back. He pulled me from the shore, barely missing my left foot connecting with his shin. I went wild in his arms, scratching, kicking, hitting him with my fists. He ducked most of the blows. The others he took without a word, until finally he dragged me to dry ground and tossed me unceremoniously on my ass.

“You bastard!” I lunged at him, no longer capable of anything but primitive reaction. He caught me in a football tackle, then slammed me onto my back as he covered my body with his. He captured my hands and held them over my head, his breath as ragged as mine as he pressed harder to keep me from clawing him.

“Stop it, Izzy! Stop!”

I turned my head away, still screaming in rage as I struggled against his grip.

He moved closer to my ear. “This won’t change anything. What you’re doing only hurts you. You’ve been hurt enough. Haven’t you?”

The sound of his voice broke through the hurricane inside my brain. I turned my face toward him, my tears streaming into the tangled hair at my temples. His dark brown hair swirled across his forehead, tossed by the wind. He didn’t say another word. He simply looked at me with those chocolate-brown eyes that told me he’d seen too many things in his life. Too much misery, too much grief.

“You know, don’t you. You know what it’s like.”

He nodded, then stroked my hair away from my face. “Yes. This isn’t the way to exorcise the demons, Izzy. Anger makes them stronger. The only way to defeat them is to let them go.”

Without warning, the floodgates opened inside me. I began to cry like I’d never cried before. Not even when Mama and Daddy died, not even when I lost Sean or Brian. These bitter, riotous tears weren’t about them. They were about me.

Eric wrapped his arms around my body and buried his face against my neck. He didn’t move or try to stop me. He only held on, like an anchor securing a ship in its harbor. I wrapped my arms around his broad back, not caring that I wiped wet sand across his red shirt. I cried until everything inside of me emptied. I held onto this stranger from another world, far away from Fort Bedford. A stranger intent on revealing what I knew must be kept hidden. It didn’t make sense. He’d been able to see inside me, behind all the walls I held firm. For the first time in years, I’d touched myself again. Through him.

I pushed at his shoulders as I quieted. He lifted his head and looked into my eyes, a bit of sand clinging to his hair. I reached to wipe it away, my fingertips aching to touch him. In that instant, I froze.

What was I doing? I didn’t know this man. He was dangerous, unfamiliar territory. The only thing I knew about him was what he did for a living. I’d let him turn me into a fool. He probably couldn’t wait to write this little adventure into his blue notebook. I shoved at him harder as the full realization of my idiocy hit me.

“Get off, Baxter,” I growled. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

He rolled onto his side, but kept his hand on my belly. He lifted his other hand to cradle his head as he looked down at me. “You know who I am, Izzy. More than you want to admit.”

I rolled away and scrambled to my feet. My knees were so weak I could barely stand, but I covered that by leaning toward him. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. You intruded where you weren’t wanted.”

He didn’t reply. He only lay in the sand, looking up at me with those wise, understanding eyes. Damn it.

“Stay away from me! Do you hear?”

He shrugged as he looked calmly out to sea. “Raven’s Beach isn’t private. It’s not my fault we keep winding up in the same place.”

“Get real! I know you’re following me and my family. I’m warning you for the last time. Keep away from us.”

He turned toward me, his expression grim. “I can’t. Yes, you’re correct. I’ve been following you. But I have a different reason now. I’m convinced Brian Miller’s murder has something to do with your family. It wouldn’t be right for me to turn away. Not when you’re in danger.”

I took a step back. “What do you mean, we’re in danger?”

“I won’t lie to you. I know you were sleeping with Brian Miller.” He shook his head, cutting off my enraged response. “It doesn’t matter how I know. The fact is that you’re connected romantically to a murder victim, again. How often does that happen in one lifetime? I’ve researched the Missing Fingers Murders, Izzy. The points don’t add up. I’m convinced that this new murder isn’t random. It’s tied to what happened here last summer. The only thing I don’t know is how.”

“You’re wrong, Baxter. Totally clueless.” I turned away, his words whipping my anxiety higher.

“Izzy,” he called out.

I didn’t want to pause, but I found myself stopping in the sand. “What?” I yelled, refusing to turn.

“I won’t go away. I came here to write a book. But I think what’s happening is bigger than that. I can help you. I want you to let me.”

I turned toward him and laughed. “That will be a cold day in hell, Baxter.”

He sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees. He gave me a slight grin as the wind tossed his hair. “Okay. I always did like winter in the South.”

I stared at him, for once failing to muster a response. Then I spun and headed toward the sand dunes as quickly as I could. God! Baxter was crazy. The local police weren’t worried about us. Harlan hadn’t contacted me since last night. There was no indication that Brian’s murder was in any way connected to me, or to Sellie and Adrian. How could it be? No one in town knew Brian and I were lovers. We’d kept it a secret, taking special care to cover our tracks. Yet Eric had known. How had he found out? What had I missed?

The thought I didn’t want to hear snuck beneath my consciousness, whispering its rhyme. What if Baxter was right? Were we in danger? Was this more than just a random event? The white light in my head flared in response so sharply, I stumbled. I grasped a handful of sea grass and pulled myself higher across the dune. Okay, little light of mine, I get the message. This is no game.

That didn’t mean I was going to let Eric Baxter come within twenty yards of us. He said he wanted to help. Big deal. He remained a person intent on knowing more than any of us wanted to reveal, then doing God–knows–what with the information. I knew without a doubt that his professional goals held real peril for my family’s peace. I had to stop him from violating it.

Yet it was the unexpected peril in him that frightened me the most. He knew how to reach behind my boundaries. The warmth of his body still mingled with mine, despite my cold, wet clothes. His insistent, gentle heat didn’t feel like simple lust or desire. It felt like coming home. That, more than anything else, spurred my steps across the dunes. He couldn’t be home. All he held for me was disaster.

The same thing I held for any man.

CHAPTER FIVE

“What in the world happened to you?”

I looked down at my clothes, aware that hiding the evidence of my struggle on the beach with Eric was a lost cause. Dripping on the kitchen floor like a wet mop was not helpful.

“I-um-fell in the water. I must have slipped on some seaweed.”

Sarabeth nodded, then circled me like a drill instructor reviewing a recruit. “Uh-huh. That water must have had a lot of sand in it, to have it stuck all over you like that.” She clucked her tongue at me, then shook her head. “Sure is strange, how it’s pasted all over you in big ol’ clumps. Looks like somebody dive-bombed you, then threw you on your back and ground it in. Yup. Sure is interesting.”

I suppressed the smile that rose to my lips despite the turbulent emotions still whirling inside me. There was nothing on earth like Sarabeth. She’d been using this truth extraction technique on me since I was three years old. She’d keep talking, eyeing me with that “I know you’re lying” look, until I’d finally break down and confess. By the time I was ten, I’d grown wise to her trick. Good thing she didn’t know that.

I nodded, my eyes downcast like a penitent’s. “You know how clumsy I am, always falling over my feet. I guess I’d better go change.”

“Uh-huh.” Sarabeth crossed her arms over her full bosom. “You’d better hurry. Selene wants to talk to you.”

I knew what that meant. A lecture by my big sister about leaving the house. This horrible day would never end. “Tell her I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.” I turned and walked up the stairs, cringing as my wet jeans trailed long puddles over the pine steps. Was it the design of the Universe to eternally put me in a situation where I looked ridiculous? Or did I choose that as my own fate?

I closed the door to my room, breathing a sigh of relief. The shower lay ahead. First the wet jeans came off, tossed into in a heap in my bathroom sink. Then my panties, sweater, T-shirt and bra followed. I turned on the hot water in the bath, then rested my forehead against the cool tile and closed my eyes.

I smoothed my hands over my bare stomach, then recoiled. I could still feel it. The warmth from Eric’s body. His essence saturated my skin like a soft blanket on a winter’s night. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the sensation to end. Nothing was the same inside me. Had I lost my mind? Would I ever get it back? Exhaustion and confusion drew closer, threatening to overtake me.

I turned my head and glanced into my room. The bedclothes lay strewn across the floor, dropped there in the midst of my wild, upsetting dreams last night. Only a little while ago, they’d been that way because of the untamed lovemaking between Brian and me. From fantasy to nightmare in the course of a night. The blueprint of my life.

The white light in my brain grew brighter, but this time it wasn’t blinding. Gentleness flowed from it, touching my mind with a balm of healing. I closed my eyes, allowing it to work its wonder. The steam from the bathwater filled the room, but I ignored it. This sweet, peaceful love was all the mattered.

A knock on the door shattered my concentration.

“What is it?” I called out.

“Mom wants you to come down to the kitchen,” Steph replied, her voice muffled by the door.

“Tell her I’m hurrying!” I pushed the shower curtain aside and turned on the cold tap to balance out the hot, then jumped in. Healing would have to wait, for now.

By the time I arrived downstairs, the entire family had gathered, seated in their usual places around the table. They kept their gazes on me, their eyes following my every move. Welcome to the Inquisition. I tossed my wet hair over my shoulder and risked a smile.

“Hey, all.” I slipped into my chair and unfolded my napkin across my lap. “Sorry I made dinner late. What’s to eat?”

Selene sat at the head of the table, picking at her scalloped potatoes with her fork. “You went walking. Alone. At a time like this. That’s a lot more than just making dinner late, Isuelt.”

Here we go. “I know, Sellie. I should have told you. I should have taken someone with me. I’m aware of all my lapses in judgment. Can we move on?” I picked up my fork and dove into the Salisbury steak on my plate.

Sellie would not be denied. “That’s not the point. You put yourself in danger. Can’t you understand why I ask of you the things I do?”

I tried not to think of Eric Baxter, his hands on my wrists, his body hard against mine. That was an unexpected danger I didn’t dare reveal to my sister. “Yes, I understand. But I had to get out of here. I had to be by myself. I’ve always been that way, Sellie, you know that. Going off by myself at all hours. I just have to do it. Otherwise, I feel like I’m going to explode from the inside. I’m just–what I am.”

Selene sat back in her chair, her expression deflated. “I’m only trying to protect you. I couldn’t bear to see you or the children harmed. It would kill me, Izzy. I would die inside.”

Lissa reached out and took her mother’s hand. She turned to me and smiled slightly, putting herself on the line to be the bridge between us.

I immediately regretted my rash words. Why did Selene have to hold on so tight? Why did I have to pull away so hard? “I’m sorry, Sellie. But I need that time alone. I can’t explain it. I’m just–“

“Like your Daddy,” Sarabeth interjected, her eyes on her plate as if she hadn’t paid attention to the argument between her petites. “It’s a part of what you are, that need to go off on your own. You can’t hear what’s inside of you unless you detach from the world for a while. Yes?”

“Yes,” I whispered. No one had put it into words before, until now. “That’s what it’s like.”

Sarabeth smiled and gazed at the ceiling, as if the high, white rafters were a crystal ball revealing a vision. “I remember your Mama complaining to your Daddy about the same thing. Why do you have to go off so much, she’d ask him. He’d say the same thing as you. Just had to, he’d say. If he didn’t, he couldn’t connect with his allies.”

I set my fork on my plate. “Allies?”

Sarabeth gave Sellie and the girls a glance, then nodded. “The Fae. The Faeries. The Good People. The ones your ancestors brought with them when they came to these shores. They’re your allies, Izzy. They’re the key.”

I pushed away from the table. “Fairies? Tinkerbell, Peter Pan, the whole ball of wax? Oh, God, Sarabeth. You should have told me this in the first place. Daddy must have been out of his mind. There’s no such thing. They don’t exist.”

Steph gasped, along with the others. She glanced across the table at her sister, then leaned over her plate. “She’s done it now.”

Lissa nodded, her big brown eyes trained on me with a look of horror. “You shouldn’t have said that, Aunt Izzy. Now you’ve insulted them. They’ll have to show you the truth.”

Steph shoved a huge bite of steak into her mouth. “This ought to be fun to watch. Glad it’s not me.”

“That’s enough, girls,” Selene said, giving them both a sharp look. The girls bowed their heads over their plates, but stole looks at each other and giggled.

Selene gave the girls one last shake of her head, then cleared her throat. “Izzy, the Fae are not a children’s tale. They’re real, and certainly not anything like Tinkerbell. In fact, some are over six feet tall. But yes, some are very small, like tiny balls of light. I’ve seen them.”

“You think you’ve seen a Fae? You must be kidding.” Oh my God. My sister was under too much stress. She’d finally snapped.

“No good talking to her,” Sarabeth said, pointing at me with her fork. A small dollop of steak sauce flipped in my direction, splashing onto the table. “She’s a stubborn O’Hickey, like her Papa. Hard-headed, the whole lot of them. Let the Fae handle it. They’ll do the job.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” I grabbed my fork and stabbed my steak, the urge to throw things around the room in frustration channeled into that poor, unsuspecting slab of beef.

“It doesn’t matter now, I guess.” Selene glanced at the old wooden clock hung over the stove. “She’ll be here soon.”

“Who?” I said, my mouth full of angry dinner.

The doorbell rang, silencing my question.

“She’s here, she’s here!” Lissa bounced in her chair like an excited Chihuahua.

Selene smiled and rose from the table. “Settle down, baby girl. I’ll get the door. You finish your dinner.”

“Do I have to?” Lissa’s lower lip pushed into a pout.

“Yes.” Selene leaned over and mussed her hair affectionately. “You all wait here, and I’ll–“

“No need to interrupt your dinner,” a loud, musical voice sang out from the hallway.
”I’ve let myself in. After all, I’m family.”

“Aunt Maggie!” Lissa cried, her plate forgotten. She and Steph bounded from the table and rushed toward the vision in plum and purple as she entered the room.

Aunt Margaret. Margaret Mary O’Hickey O’Sullivan, to be exact. White hair piled high on top of her head, long purple skirts under a long plum jacket, enough jewelry hanging from every appendage to open up a branch of Tiffany’s. She laughed as the girls embraced her, the booming sound resounding from every wall.

I wanted to crawl under the table. No matter how many times I saw her, she still scared the life out of me. My fingers curled instinctively around my fork, as if I might need a weapon in case she went crazy on us.

She breezed across the room and wrapped my sister in a huge hug. More laughing and loud talking as she cooed over Selene and huddled with Sarabeth. Then she turned to me. My fingers tightened around the silverware as she approached.

“And this. This is my Isuelt.” She reached out to touch my cheek. I almost bolted. She seemed to understand and withdrew her hand. Then she turned to Sarabeth and smiled. “Yes. I’m glad you called me. She has the power. They’ve chosen her. I knew it when she was born, but you can’t rush these things. Besides, Harry wouldn’t let me train her. He said she had to choose for herself.”

I hadn’t heard my father’s first name spoken aloud in a decade. Harry. Short for Harold, formerly O’Hickey, then MacPherson. A bit of ice fell from my heart. Aunt Margaret was his sister. Our only link to the man he was. The man I barely remembered. I swallowed my nervousness, then lifted my chin.

“It’s good to see you, Aunt Mags.”

She turned toward me, her blue eyes bright with amusement. “Aunt Mags! Oh, I’d forgotten how you called me that. How funny! Such a firebrand you were as a child. And still are, I see.” She cocked her head as if she could read my soul. I pulled away, looking down at the table.

She laughed lightly, then put her thin hands on her hips. “Hmm. Excellent shielding ability, Isuelt. Just think how much better you’ll be with training.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Selene put an arm around our aunt’s shoulders, sparing her the torture. I bit my tongue to keep silent. What was it about this woman that made me want to blab my every thought, no matter how heinous? The urge to tell her off barreled through me like a freight train.

“Let me show you your room.” Selene motioned to the girls to grab my aunt’s suitcases. “Have you eaten already? Are you tired? Would you like a plate sent to your room?”

“No, I’m fine.” Mags gave Selene a gracious smile. Then she looked at me. “But I would like Miss Isuelt to come to my room tonight, before she retires.”

The back door stood only a few feet away. I could make it if I ran.

“Yes, Ma’am.” I gave her a curt nod.

Damn. I was taught from infancy to respect my elders. Southern upbringing dies hard.

“Good.” She gave me another odd glance, then smiled sweetly. She put an arm around Sarabeth, the warmth of old friends reunited enveloping them.

Selene led them away. The girls followed, dragging Mag’s suitcases like little dockhands. I sat at the table alone, just me and what was left of a pretty decent dinner.

Well, so be it. I wouldn’t let her interrupt my need for nutrition. I shoved another bite of meat into my mouth. I barely tasted it. All I could feel was the change that swept over the house the instant that woman crossed the threshold. I wasn’t sure I could endure another minute of disruption. The global shift moving inside me was already too much to bear. Mags sudden appearance promised more of the same.

An image of Brian danced across my mind, reminding me of the realities. I sighed and took another bite. I’m doing this for you, I thought. Only for you. Otherwise, I’d be halfway to Texas by now.

*****

The clock in the hallway struck eleven by the time I gingerly tapped on Mags’ door. Maybe she’d gone to sleep, sparing me the torment.

“Come in,” her cheery voice called out.

I was fatally unlucky. It was the only answer. I opened the door slowly, then peeked in. “I thought you might be asleep.”

Mags laughed. “No, you hoped I’d be asleep. Isn’t that more to the point?”

She stood at the dressing table, her lilac nightgown casting a soft shadow at her feet. Her white hair hung in heavy, thick waves to her knees. I’d never seen it unbound. It was beautiful. The sight of her made me dizzy. One moment she appeared young, her face unlined and luminous. The next, she was old and fragile, her skin as thin as parchment. I shook my head, confused.

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry. I still have the glamour in place, don’t I? Let me remove it.” She waved her hands in front of her face. The old woman returned, her image sharp and clear to my eyes.

She laughed as she looked at me in the mirror’s reflection. “You’ll have to excuse me, dear. The old gal likes to remember once in a while. I was a real looker, wasn’t I? Not that I’m that bad as an old rust bucket.” She turned to the side and preened, flashing a smile at her reflection.

“Or is it the Hag from Hell?” She laughed loudly. “Isn’t that what you always called me behind my back when you were a teenager?”

Embarrassment rippled up my spine. This was what made me fear her when I was a child -- her strange, uncanny way of knowing secrets, then cackling over them as if they were post–it notes stuck to the refrigerator. If the floor could have opened beneath me, I would have gratefully fallen in.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Mags.”

“Oh, come now, Isuelt. I know you never liked me. I also know why. Would you like to know, too?” She sat in one of the antique wingback chairs facing the fireplace, then motioned for me to take a seat in the other. Selene had lit a row of white, glass-encased candles and placed them inside the hearth as a summertime alternative to a crackling fire. The flickering flames danced, casting the room in a soft glow. I walked to the chair and sat down, my mind in a whirl.

“Yes, I’d like to know. I’d like to know a lot of things.”

Mags grinned and laced her hands over her belly. “I’ll bet you do. Let’s start with your Daddy.”

I shook my head and sat back. “I don’t remember him.”

Mags nodded. “He died when you were young, Izzy. But I bet you have some memories, even if they’re only images. Close your eyes. Tell me what you see.”

I closed my eyes, frustrated by her request. What good would this do? I took a deep breath and tried to relax my tense, anxious muscles. I took another breath and tried to clear my mind. With my third breath -- revelation.

My mind opened, as if someone had pulled down a projector screen. On the screen, I saw him. My father. Tall and slim, laughing as he hugged my mother and pulled her from her feet to swing her around in a circle. His light brown hair, kissed with coppery streaks, lay in strong waves over his forehead. I’d forgotten how lean and handsome he’d been. So young and strong. He’d worked as a lawyer, partnered with our family friend, Leslie McCarty. He’d been a happy man, and a crusading one. He was always flying around the country, taking the cases no one else would touch.

That was what killed him. He’d flown to California to take on a civil rights case. My mother had gone along to help him as his assistant. They’d died together, crashed on a mountainside in a storm. Nothing left. In a flash of sweeping color, I saw the plane crumpled like a child’s toy against the mountain, flames pouring out the windows.

I shut down the image and shook my head. “No more,” I whispered.

Aunt Mags reached out and took my hand. I couldn’t stop her. I had no more energy left to fight.

“It hurts to see the things we do, doesn’t it.”

I nodded, my eyes still closed. “Yes.”

“Our gift never lets us forget the pain we’ve endured. But there’s a reason for that, Izzy. A good reason.”

I opened my eyes and looked at her, then laid my head against the back of the chair. “Tell me.”

Aunt Mags smiled slightly, then lifted my hand and kissed it. “Only the wounded healer can understand the pains of another.”

I didn’t respond. I only stared at her, my mind a blank. Wounded healer? “I’m not a healer, Mags. I can’t do anything.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re late coming into your gift, and that can’t be helped. But you can open to it now. Selene’s told me about the white light. That means they’re ready for you, Izzy. You may grow very quickly, if that’s what is needed. But I’m here to help you.”

I pulled my hand away and stood. I almost fell back into the chair with dizziness. Mags dragged me into my seat, then picked up the plate of cookies on the side table.

“You’re not grounded, my dear. Eat something. It will help you pull back into your body.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m going to bed.” I moved to stand, but her hand was like a vise on my wrist.

“Fine. Cookie first.” She shoved the plate under my nose.

I took one, angrily biting into it while I shot her the nastiest look I could muster. She was utterly unperturbed by it. In fact, the expression on her face showed how amused she was. What was so damned funny? Did she even have a clue about what I was facing? What had happened? I needed quick answers now, not this painful walk down memory lane.

She shook her head and smiled. “I’m sorry, my dear. It’s just that you remind me so much of myself at your age.”

That was it. She didn’t have to add insult to injury. I pulled away and stood. The damned cookie had helped my balance, which only increased my irritation. “That’s the last thing I want, Mags. I’m not like you. Not in any way.”

Mags leaned back in her chair. She took a cookie and bit into it, then chuckled. “You may not want it, but you’ve got it. Get some rest. We start lessons tomorrow.”

I swung toward her, my hands on my hips. “Oh yeah? In what?”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “In what you are, darling. You’re a faery doctor. Just like your Daddy, and me, and my Mama before us.”

I backed away from her, my foot hitting the fireplace tools behind me. “Fairies, again. You’re cracked, Aunt Mags.”

She licked her chocolate-stained fingertips, then lifted her gaze to me. “As are you, dearheart. People called to shamanic work are often accused of being crazy. We only seem that way because we’re the actual sane ones.”

I turned away, beating a fast exit from the room.

“Nite-nite, dear,” Aunt Mags called out in her familiar sing-song voice. “Bright and early tomorrow morning.”

*****

I woke a bit before dawn. The oppressive heat in the room smothered me in a soft, wet mantle of sweat. I threw off the covers and walked to the window unit, cranking up the cold as high as it would go. I stood in front of the vents, whipping off my over-sized T-shirt to bare my skin to icy relief.

Another wild night of images and sounds in my dreams. I saw my father, his hand held out to me, a smile on his lips. I saw Brian and Sean, too. Both of them blood-stained, staring at me with desperate eyes. They kept talking to me, motioning with their hands, but I couldn’t hear them. They kept pointing to something behind me, but when I turned to look, all I saw was a dark fog. It didn’t make sense.

Even worse, I’d seen Eric Baxter. I had no idea why I’d dreamt of him. All I wanted from him was his absence. But he’d been there, giving me that Hollywood smile and brushing my hair from my face, his hands gentle on my skin. I’d given in to that comfort, leaning into his embrace. It felt good, and so right.

God, this whole faery doctor thing was a crock if I ever saw one. Eric Baxter parading around like Casanova in my dreams only proved it. This stuff was all in my head, and not in a good way. The little white light flickered to life in my head, like a pilot light on a stove. Did it feel insulted? Good. Maybe it would leave. I wanted peace. Quiet. Time to heal.

I lifted my head at the thought of healing. Wounded healer. What did that mean? It reminded me of the old stories of the Fisher King that Daddy used to read to me at night. He loved the Arthurian tales. I’d forgotten that. At bedtime, he’d fill my head with visions of brave knights and beautiful ladies. I smiled, happy that this long lost memory had been restored to me. I’d been convinced I would grow up one day and live in a big castle in Camelot, just like Guinevere. At least that’s what I told Daddy, which made him smile. But I knew in my heart it wasn’t Guinevere whom I aspired to be. It was Morgan Le Fey.

Le Fey. I knew what those words translated into, in English. Morgan of the Fairies. God, fairies again. Is that why Daddy read me all those stories? To prepare me for the day when I’d meet the Fae myself? When I’d discover how much I had in common with the Fisher King?

I turned away from the air conditioner and walked to my bed. I threw myself onto the cooled sheets with a groan. I had to go back to work today, to resume my life as if nothing had happened. How was I going to do that? Everything had changed.

Now I had Aunt Mags underfoot, to top it all off. Maybe I could beg off the lessons she had in mind. After all, I had to work in the restaurant at lunchtime, then at the bar at night. I’d tell her I didn’t have time, that I had to earn a living, and I was so sorry to send her packing. Yeah, that might work.

A rap at the door made me jump.

“Isuelt? Get up, dear. I know you’re awake. Time to start your first lesson.”

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Four a.m. “Not on your life, Mags. Go back to bed.”

The door opened with a flourish. I grabbed the bed sheet and pulled it over my nakedness just in time.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of my room!”

Mags stood at the doorway, dressed in the most outlandish costume I’d seen her wear yet. She looked like a purple safari explorer, right down to the violet bush hat she had perched over her silver hair. Even her steel-toed boots were a vibrant mauve. The overall effect hurt my eyes.

“We won’t make it to the beach for sunrise if you don’t get dressed now, dear. I told you I’m here to teach you. The best way to do that is to show you where to start.”

Mags walked through my room, perusing my belongings. She made little approving noises when she saw something she liked, then tsked-tsked when she uncovered items she thought less than useful. She snorted when she found my pack of cigarettes.

“You’ll have to quit these, of course. Not good for you at all. Your addiction to them will get in the way of your energies.”

I pulled the sheet around me and walked toward her, then snatched the cigarettes out of her hand. “That’s my business.” I pulled out a cigarette and lit it in front of her, then took a long drag. I blew a ring of smoke in her direction, anticipating the explosion to come. Maybe she’d decide I wasn’t worth the effort. Maybe she’d simply decide to get out of my room. She acted as if she owned it. As if she owned me.

She held her breath as the blue smoke ring passed over her head. Her gaze never left my face. Her expression revealed only calm and serenity. She didn’t wave the smoke away or put on a show. She took it with such dignity and strength that a wave of shame washed over me at my childishness. I lowered the cigarette and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry, Aunt Mags. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Mags walked to my side and laid a hand on my shoulder. “You’re in transition, Izzy. You can either fight it and rail against it, like you’re doing now. Or, you can let go and see where the Divine wants to take you. You know what’s at stake. Yes, I know about Brian, and Sean. The choice is yours, my love. Will you be a force for good, or waste what you have and let the will of the Universe pass you by?”

I took another drag of the cigarette, her words filtering through my brain. The white light within me spiraled higher, as if leading cheers at a ballgame. I blew out the smoke. Suddenly the cigarette lost its pleasure.

“I’ll try. That’s all I can offer.”

Mags smiled and rubbed my collarbone. “That’s all you’ll need, Izzy. You’ll see.”

I crushed the cigarette in the ash tray, then turned toward her. “I’ll get dressed. Should I prepare for hiking?” I gave her vivid purpleness a quick head-to-toe glance. “You look like something from Out of Africa. That is, if Prince played Karen Blixen.”

Aunt Mags laughed. “I much prefer Meryl Streep in the role, don’t you? I’ll wait for you downstairs.”

Within the hour, we were trudging in the early dawn light together, heading for Raven’s Beach. She’d slung a backpack onto her shoulders but refused to tell me what was in it. I walked behind her, amazed by the speed a woman her age could maintain over loose sand. By the time we reached the beach, I was breathless. Not Mags.

“Ah, just in time.” She knelt on the sand and unzipped her backpack. She pulled out a small woven blanket and handed it to me. Then she dug deeper into the bag, her face a picture of concentration. She pulled out a stone, about the size of her hand, gray with white stripes and spots across its face. She smiled and caressed the stone, then stood next to me.

“Let’s greet the day.” She turned toward the east and lifted the stone high over her head. She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Do what I do, Izzy. Just try it, all right?”

I nodded, then faced east with her.

She took a deep breath, her arms held high. The stone picked up the first rays of the sun, then warmed in color. “Hail, East, House of Air. Home of the powers of intellect and communication. I greet you this day and ask your blessing. Hail, Pure Maiden of the Dawn. I honor and revere you.”

I did my best to repeat what she said. I had no clue why, but saying the words stirred my spirit. My heart grew sweet and still. The flicker of light inside my mind shimmered, as if some kind of glitter had been added to the bright shaft.

Aunt Mags and I turned to the South. “Hail South, House of Fire. Home of the powers of creativity and passion. I greet you this day and ask your blessing. Hail, Glorious Mother of Divine Inspiration. I honor and revere you.”

To the West, Mags continued, “Hail West, House of Water. Home of the powers of healing and walking between the worlds. I greet you this day and ask your blessing. Hail, Holy Matriarch of the Sunset Sea. I honor and revere you.”

Finally we faced North. Mags lifted the stone even higher and smiled. “Hail North, House of Earth. Home of the powers of peace and life. I greet you this day and ask your blessing. Hail, Great Crone of Wisdom. I honor and revere you. I bring to you my niece, Isuelt. She stands prepared to learn what you have given her. Open her mind and heart, her spirit and soul, to your touch. Let what is meant to be come to pass, in her.” Mags lowered her arms and turned toward me. “Do you give your assent, Isuelt MacPherson, here before the Lady? Do you agree to open yourself to her guidance, to bring what is your destiny into fruition?”

I stared at Aunt Mags, my mouth open. Her physical presence had transformed. No longer the weird, slightly off-key flake I’d always known. The woman who stood before me now was another person entirely. Power and strength poured from her, as well as an energy that seemed beyond this world. Did I want to enter into this agreement? Was I ready for what lay ahead? I knew I could say no. I could leave this beach and not look back. I could be free again, to live my life as I’d always done.

And yet, was that life freedom, or was the real freedom what was being offered to me right now? I had to risk it.

“I give my assent to the Lady. Of my own free will, I say yes.”

Mags smiled, then embraced me. “Welcome, Isuelt.”

She turned from me and walked to her backpack, wrapping the gray stone carefully in a fuzzy cloth. “One day this stone will be yours. It came from the earth surrounding our ancestral home in Ireland. It’s my honoring stone. You’ll find one of our own, if you ask it to come. Use it every day, to greet as I have. It will help bring your life into balance. That’s what you need, to be a faery doctor.”

I followed Mags and leaned over her. “How do I begin? I don’t know where to start.”

Mags picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “Sit on your blanket and face the sea, Izzy. Close your eyes and breathe deeply. Ask for your ally to come. Then you will have your questions answered. I am only here to help guide you on this plane of existence. The real learning happens between the worlds.” With that, she turned and walked toward the dunes.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

She looked over her shoulder at me. “I’m going home for a nice cup of coffee and a danish. You, my dear, have work to do. Ta-ta.”

I stomped to my blanket and sat down hard on the sand. “Well, thanks a whole helluva lot, Mags.” How was I supposed to do this? Wasn’t she supposed to teach me? How about a little guidance on what an ally is, anyway? I hated being in the dark on things, clueless and fumbling. I’d definitely never been as much in the dark as I was right now.

I sighed, then crossed my legs and rested my hands on my knees. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The little light in my head grew bigger. I took another breath. It grew again. A third breath. Now it not only grew, it rolled and tumbled like a nest of hornets fallen to the ground. What was happening? At last the light gave one last burst of energy, blinding my mind’s eye with its brilliance. Then the radiance subsided, bit by bit, until at last, I saw it. A white cat with little pink-tinged ears, bathing itself as if it didn’t have a care in the world.

A cat? I stared at it, unable to tear my concentration away. It continued to wash, moving its small white paws across its tongue, then over long, white whiskers. Finally it stopped and opened one eye to look at me.

“Oh. Hello. Took you long enough.”

I felt faint. A talking cat? I looked around the beach, hoping I was truly alone. “Um, sorry. I’m a beginner. I didn’t know how to do it before. I still don’t.”

The cat rose and walked toward me, then climbed into my lap. I could only see it in my mind’s eye, but I could physically feel the weight of the animal against my legs. The softness of its fur rubbed across my skin as it turned to look at me. “No matter. You’re here. That’s enough to work with.”

I couldn’t contain myself any longer. If jumping into questions and answers was against some kind of supernatural etiquette, so be it. “Who are you? Am I losing my mind? Is this real?”

The cat crossed his paws and yawned. “You are a tedious one, aren’t you. Let’s see. I’m your ally. Your spirit guide, so to speak. No, you’re not losing your mind, although I can tell that working with you might make me lose mine. And yes, this is real. The world of spirit is as real as the physical world, Isuelt. Perhaps even more so. Any other questions?”

I nodded, the animal’s image becoming sharper in my mind. Every hair on his back, every twitch of his whisker, drew my attention. Good Goddess. I was conversing with a cat. Inside my head. A cat that I could touch but not see with my physical eyes. I struggled to keep breathing. “How do you know my name?”

The cat gave his right paw another lick. “I’ve always been with you, since you were born. You simply couldn’t perceive me until now.”

“Do you have a name?”

The cat nodded. “Finnian. Never tell anyone that name, though. To name a thing is to have power over it in the world of spirit. That is information you would not want to expose to another. Understand?”

Not a bit. But that wasn’t stopping me. “What are we supposed to do now?”

The cat actually grinned. “Ah, that’s the question I’ve been waiting for. What we supposed to do? You’re supposed to become. Are you ready?”

I nodded, even though I had no real sense of what lay before me. I was now the pupil of a cat from another time and place. He looked up at me, his bright blue eyes full of stars. I swear I heard a low purr rumble from his throat. I smiled in return, then finally lifted my hand to stroke his side, both inside my mind and with my body.

Both acts connected. Both were real. It was enough to put any normal person straight into the asylum. Yet I knew what I experienced wasn’t my imagination.

Aunt Mags was right. I was just like her. There was no turning back now.

CHAPTER SIX

“Try again, Izzy. Concentrate.” Aunt Mags took up a rhythmic drumbeat again. “Ride the sound like a horse into the Otherworld.”

I shut my eyes tight and held back the urge to tell her where she could stick her drum. I focused on my breathing, the way she’d taught me. Okay, where was it? I was supposed to see some kind of tunnel or hole open up. All I saw was Finnian sitting next to me, shaking his head at my disappointing progress.

I sat up in frustration and crossed my arms over my knees. “It’s no use. It isn’t working, Mags. I don’t know why.” If you asked me, five o’clock in the morning wasn’t the best time for this activity in the first place. Mags dragged me out of bed at dawn to greet the day and work on the shamanic technique of journeying. I wasn’t a very good student, since I couldn’t seem to get past the launch pad.

Finnian yawned, which drew my attention. I sent him a quick message in thought. “Why don’t you tell me what’s the matter?”

He looked up at me, then laid his chin on his front paws. “You seek to accomplish what you do not yet understand. It will take time, Isuelt. Trying to force the experience will not work. You must allow it to come.”

I turned away, my frustration building. Time was the one thing I didn’t have.

Aunt Mags stood up, slipping her drum into its woven bag. “Don’t worry. We’ll try again tomorrow. Focus on relaxing today.”

I nodded, but relaxation wasn’t on my agenda. I’d spoken to Harlan on the phone last night. After everything he and I shared in the days following Sean’s death, I thought he’d be open to allowing me information on the investigation of Brian’s murder. Instead, I couldn’t get a thing out of him. In fact, he openly told me to mind my own business and leave the inquiry to the professionals.

I almost laughed at his comment. I’d love nothing more than to leave the entire thing to the cops and step away. However, choice in the matter was no longer up to me. The Universe had other plans. For whatever reason, it was my destiny to put those plans into effect, to discover who killed Brian. According to Mags, if I didn’t follow through, what was meant to occur would not come to pass. Gee, thanks, Universe. No pressure.

I stood up and stretched my arms over my head. Destiny. I couldn’t even complete Mag’s journeying assignment. The Universe should have chosen Selene.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” Mags said, shutting my bedroom door behind her. I watched her leave, then sat on the edge of the bed in resignation. How was I supposed to do all of this when the Otherworld wouldn’t cooperate? Maybe it was time to focus less on the “other side” and more on this one.

Not that my mundane life had been put on hold. It was back to work today at both my jobs. I expected a jarring experience filled with complaining customers, blue plate specials and two for one beers.

I knew I could bear it, with the exception of one thing. Finnian. He strolled beside me non–stop, advising, commenting, criticizing, and generally being a pain in the ass. I vowed to ask Mags for advice on how to shut him off.

But first, sleep. The magical life exhausted me. Even a former party girl couldn’t keep up with the supernatural.

*****

Ten a.m. arrived in a flash. By eleven, I stood at my usual post, hot steaming plates of food balanced on both arms, while Mags helped Sarabeth prepare lunch specials. I asked her about Finnian. I should have known better than to expect that she’d save me from my predicament.

“Well, my dear!” Mags laughed, amusement in her eyes. “Let him know you need a break from the connection. He’s a spirit guide, but he’s not all knowing. Don’t worry. You’ll learn to have a good relationship with him over time.”

“Um, okay,” I said, four Fort Bedford Bliss plates teetering dangerously in my grasp. “I’ll try it.”

The luscious aroma of fried catfish, hushpuppies, fresh coleslaw and apple fritters made my mouth water. I’d forgotten to eat anything today. Faery doctor training was not conducive to keeping a regular meal schedule. Even my precious ciggies had been abandoned, except for the occasional desperate, stolen moment together.

Mags picked up another chicken leg and tossed it into the coating bowl, then gave a wink to Sarabeth at her side. “Just be respectful, as you would be to a teacher at school. It will all work out.”

Sarabeth laughed, her hands deep in a mass of fresh bread dough. “Don’t tell her that. Her spirit guide will leave her in a huff. Izzy never was one for respecting someone just because they had a position of authority over her. She drove her teachers to drink.”

I lifted my chin, a bit riled by Sarabeth’s comment. How many years was I going to be tarred with that particular brush? “I admit I was a handful in school. But I’ve come a long way since then.”

Sarabeth’s hands stilled as she gazed at me. Finally she nodded, a bit of a smile playing on her lips. “Yes, you have. And it ain’t over yet.”

Mags nodded wisely, then gave me the same smile. Apparently they had a secret they weren’t going to share. Well, fine. I turned toward the door to the dining hall, my head held high, then pushed through it.

“Well done,” Finnian said, trailing behind me. “You could have said many things, but you kept your own counsel. That is a skill many people would be well served to learn.”

“Thanks,” I replied. Finnian and I kept our conversation limited to inside my brain. I hoped he never chose to speak out loud. The internal bantering between us was bad enough.

I walked across the dining hall and headed toward table twelve. “What’s the meaning of your name, anyway?”

Finnian cut in front of me, his sleek white legs flashing in a blur. I stepped to the left, then reminded myself that I couldn’t trip over a spirit. Could I?

“My name is from the Old Irish. It means, little white.”

“Hmph. Appropriate. Hey, could I fall over you? Stop running between my feet.”

Finnian laughed. “You could trip over me if I chose to trip you. But I choose not to.”

“Gee, thanks.” I arrived at the table, then served the four men seated in the booth their plates brimming with a little of everything. They each wore a grime-encrusted ball cap that read MEGA MOVERS TRUCKING. I was glad I didn’t have to sit with them and stomach the sight of the dirt clumps plopping into my fritters.

“Looks great,” one unusually burly man said. “Hey, what’s fun to do around here? We’re comin’ back through later tonight.”

“Well, this is Fort Bedford. Not exactly Orlando or Miami. But Casey’s Oceanside Sports Bar is a great place. Everyone goes there.” I kept talking, so used to giving this line to tourists that I ignored the warning bells ringing in my head.

The man’s eyes lit up. “Yeah? We’ll be there for sure.” He raked his gaze over my body, then grinned like an idiot.

I kept my waitress smile in place, but mentally kicked myself. Stupid me. This was all I needed. Another bunch of big ol’ boys the size of killer whales, hanging around the bar and looking for trouble. Maybe they’d get a flat tire before hitting town this evening. “Enjoy your lunches, gentlemen.” I walked away, heading for the ice tea stand and the refill pitcher.

“Beware of those men, Izzy. They are not what they seem.”

I glanced over my shoulder at them. “I had a feeling they weren’t. I shouldn’t have told them about Casey’s. My instincts warned me, but I ignored them.”

“You must hone your listening skills, both with me and the inner sense the Divine has given you. Only then will you avoid the things you do not wish to be a part of your life.”

I picked up the pitcher, a sense of gloom setting over my mind. “Then why don’t you tell me who killed Brian?”

Finnian didn’t answer right away. I filled several glasses before his voice finally reappeared.

“I can only tell you what is revealed to me. The people who killed Brian are not fully connected to this world. And yet, they are. It is unclear, Isuelt. The killers are shielded in a way that not even I can penetrate. Tread carefully.”

“Wonderful.” Shielded? Not fully connected to this world? What the hell were we dealing with?

My hand stopped in mid–air. “Wait. You said killers. You mean there’s more than one involved?”

Finnian nodded. “Yes, Isuelt. The police do not understand. As was the case in Sean’s murder, Brian’s death is more than it appears. Neither event was coincidence. They share a common thread.”

Well, that did it. I needed to talk to Selene and Adrian. They’d refused to tell me everything about Sean’s death, particularly about the entity that had inhabited Richard Swann. They said they wanted to spare me more pain. Those days were over. Finnian had just confirmed Eric Baxter’s suspicions. I needed the complete truth, right now.

I turned from the table, so busy mulling over the facts that I didn’t see the customer in front of me until I rammed into him, full force. Ice tea flew out of the pitcher onto the floor with a huge splash.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry! Let me clean this up.” I shakily leaned toward the floor to throw a rag on the mess, but strong hands lifted me upright. I looked into the face of Eric Baxter. Speak of the devil. How had he slipped into the restaurant without my knowledge?

“It’s okay,” Bethany said, already at our side with a mop. “I’ve got it.”

Eric pulled me away from the tables into the corner of the room. I allowed him, if only to avoid a scene in front of the customers.

“Eric.” I shook my head to clear it and pulled away from his grasp. “Why are you here?”

He smiled, then dropped his arms to his sides. “Sustenance. Nourishment. Most humans engage in three times day, if they’re lucky.”

I shook my head. “I know that. Why don’t you try some of the other restaurants in town?” Maybe a “get lost” sign around my neck would be more effective.

He shook his head, an insulted expression on his face. “You must be kidding. How could I go anywhere else and miss a chance at that insanely overpriced prime rib?”

I looked away, warmth crawling up my neck. I hadn’t realized he’d been fully aware of my highway robbery move. He put a finger under my chin and turned my face toward him. Without my consent, my breathing slowed, as if his touch had the power to quell the storm inside me. Or perhaps redirect it to a better purpose. The thought of that made me want to bolt. Instead, I remained still, captured by his gaze.

He leaned a bit closer, his voice low but still audible over the crowded dining room. “Besides, I told you on the beach. I’m keeping an eye on you.”

I jerked my chin away from his hand. “Yeah? That’s the last thing I need right now, from you or anyone else. I have to get back to work. Find another project to amuse you, Eric. I’m not available.” I turned away, catching the corner of my hip against the sideboard in my haste to escape. I limped in pain, but kept moving.

“Izzy, wait.”

I ignored the sound of his voice until I was safely behind the swinging kitchen door. Let him try and get past Sarabeth and Mags, the impenetrable fortresses of feminine power. I could sell tickets to that one.

“Running solves nothing,” Finnian said, his tail swishing as he walked beside me.

“It’s not supposed to.” I walked straight through the kitchen until I emerged on the family side of the house. Once there, I leaned against the wall, all energy drained. “I need time to think. Can you leave me alone a while? This is getting to be too much.”

“Yes,” Finnian said, his tail lifting into a straight line. “When you want me, call out my name. I will come.”

“I understand.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. His image began to fade, until only the faintest outline of his form remained. Then in a whisper of wind, I heard his voice. This time not in my mind, but with my physical ears.

“I am with you in every moment. You are not alone.”

I lowered my head as a sudden rush of emotion filled my heart. Not alone. If he only knew how deeply the fear of being abandoned ran inside me.

In a final blink of light, he was gone.

I stood a few minutes, gathering my wits. Then I opened the kitchen door and nodded to Sarabeth and Mags. Lissa and Steph sat at the back of the room, earning their summer allowance by helping the older women. Lissa refilled the salt shakers while Steph handled the pepper. I blew a kiss to them, struggling to behave as normally as possible. “I’m taking my break. I need to talk to Sellie and Adrian. Mags, can you ask Tammy to cover for me for a few minutes?”

Mags nodded. “Certainly, dear. Anything else?”

I frowned as I glanced at the dining hall door. “If Eric Baxter dares to ask for me, tell him I left.”

Sarabeth followed my gaze, her frown matching mine. “Left for the day, or left the country?”

I snorted in response. “Left the Universe, as far as he’s concerned.”

I knew I couldn’t trust him. He’d said himself that he’d researched the murders last year, that he was working on a book about them. He only wanted to use us. Yet as I walked towards Sellie’s office, I couldn’t deny the burning heat inside me. It wasn’t due to the summer solstice nearing. It was him. Everywhere he’d touched me tingled with awareness, with a deep knowing that shook me to my core.

No. I had to stay away from the fire inside him, away from the woman in me who yearned for it. Solid logic said to keep my distance. Why didn’t my all-mighty instincts speak the same message? Maybe they needed a tune-up, like a car that had been parked in the driveway too long.

I knocked on Sellie’s office door. No answer. I knew she’d gone there with Adrian to work on the books only a little while ago. I’d seen her myself, after she’d sent the girls into the kitchen to help Sarabeth. I knocked again. Was she on the phone? Finally, I pushed the door open.

“Sellie, I –”

“Oh my God!” Sellie looked at me from an upside down position, her long hair dangling over the edge of the desk. Adrian leaned over her, his face a vision of bliss. Both of them were only partially clothed, and clearly in the middle of a very intense pre-wedding night warm-up.

I couldn’t help it. I knew I should slam the door in shock. But it was too good to pass up. “Wow! You guys really know how to make paper work more exciting!”

“Izzy!” Selene screamed, scrambling for her polo shirt and bra as she literally shoved Adrian under the desk. He laughed, the sound muffled under the heavy oak.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Hey, Adrian! Looking good!”

“Thank you,” he replied, still laughing.

Selene’s scream of indignation drowned out our conversation. “Isuelt! Don’t you know how to knock?” She tugged her shirt over her head, succeeding only in putting her head into the left armhole. She dragged it across her hair, growling like a bear.

“I did knock. Don’t you know how to lock the door?” I leaned over the desk and pulled the head opening of the shirt into the right position.

Selene’s dark curls emerged, followed by the red, mottled face of my very embarrassed sister. “What did you want? Adrian, are you, I mean, are you-“

Adrian stood, buttoning his jeans. “Decent? With you, never. With everyone else, always.”

Selene’s face flushed again, but this time I could tell it wasn’t from shame. She reached out and caressed his cheek, then handed him his shirt. He grinned and shrugged it on, keeping his gaze on her the entire time.

I did my very best not to break out into jealous hives. Sellie and Adrian were blessed, more than any couple I’d ever known. I’d thought Sean and I could be like that one day, if we worked hard at it. But was that really true? Or were we destined to eventually fall apart, like every other relationship in my life? My heart dropped at the realization.

“Izzy? What’s up?” Sellie put an arm around Adrian’s waist and faced me.

“Oh. I, well, I need to ask both of you a favor. I’m sorry I didn’t wait until later.” I mustered a smile for them.

Adrian gave Sellie’s shoulders a hug. “It’s okay, Iz. We got a little overheated discussing the honeymoon.” He grinned and kissed Selene’s brow. Then he turned to me, his expression shifting to concern. “Hey. Talk to us. I can tell something’s wrong.”

I nodded, then sat in the chair behind me. “I’ve connected with my ally. I don’t think I need to explain that any further. Do I?”

Selene and Adrian pulled up the chairs they’d pushed away from the desk and sat facing me. “No, you don’t,” Selene replied. “What has he -- or she -- told you?”

I ran my hands through my hair, a sudden sense of exhaustion weakening me. “It’s about Brian. My ally has been telling me some things about who killed him.” I pressed my fingertips against my temples, massaging the tension headache beginning to build. Finnian’s white light shimmered in my consciousness, but I chose to keep him out of this conversation. Finally I leaned forward, resting my palms on my knees. “You said I was the one who had to be involved in this, Selene. You said that was the will of the Universe. If that’s so, then I need you to tell me everything about last summer. Not just the bare facts you thought I could handle. I need it all. Tell me about the entity. How you defeated him. What really happened. I have to know the whole truth.”

Selene stared at me as if I’d asked her to tell me the darkest secret of her soul. “Why? Why would you ask that?”

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “My guide believes that what we’re dealing with is human, but possibly with negative connections to the spirit world.”

“No,” Selene whispered. She pushed away from the desk and walked to the window. Adrian reached out for her, but she slipped past him. “This can’t be happening again.”

“I’m sure it’s not the same thing,” I said, my feet itching to follow and comfort her. “But I won’t lie to you. It may be something similar. I can’t go into this blindly. Please tell me, Sellie.”

For a long while, she kept her back to us. Then finally, she turned. “I thought Richard Swann was a harmless tourist. In fact, he was the only one who defended us when the town turned against Adrian and me. God, I even set him up with Janell, my best friend in the world. I was so wrong. I didn’t see what was in front of me.” Selene sniffed, then rubbed her eye. Adrian moved to join her, but she put out a hand to stop him. “No, I need to get this said, by myself.”

Adrian nodded, but his face revealed how much it pained him to see her suffer. I didn’t want to put her through this. She deserved only happy moments for the rest of her life. Yet the things Eric had mentioned, along with what my guide had said, convinced me that I had to be fully armed with the facts. Being ignorant of the past was no longer an option.

Selene lifted her chin and took a breath, then continued. “He had me completely snowed. But he wasn’t just Richard Swann, the sorrowing widower. He was possessed, Izzy. An entity took hold of him. Something evil and powerful. It literally ran him from the minute he allowed it inside.”

“How does the entity work?” I felt as if I was discussing that movie about the girl with the spinning head and the green pea soup. But this was real, not fiction.

“When the entity thought it had defeated me, it gloated. Really got into letting me know how grand it was, how long a history it had, what its triumphs were. He said that all a person has to do is say to themselves with passion, ‘I’ll do anything to get what I want.’ In that second, he can come inside them and set up residence, like a parasite. The longer he’s there, the better he can overtake the host.”

Selene walked toward me, then knelt down and put her hands in mine. “He’s been everywhere, Izzy. Jack the Ripper. Terrorist bombers. Serial killers. He came and went as he pleased. But even more, he–” She paused, as if the taste of the words on her tongue choked her. “He discovered he can re-animate the dead, if he can enter into them quickly enough after death. That’s what he did with Richard. I killed Richard and him, in a single blow. But he took the body back. That gave him Richard without a soul. No more resistance from within, no more human opposition to his possession. He ruled completely. That’s when he discovered he could use his power against me without limit, with Richard’s body acting like a conduit for the energy.”

“God, Sellie.” I squeezed her hands tight. Why hadn’t she shared this with me? The thought of my sister facing down this malevolent spirit, all by herself, chilled my blood. “What did you do to defeat him? You never told me. You only said that it was a part of our family gift. That never made sense. Our gift is the second sight. How can that defeat a monster?”

“That wasn’t the gift I used. It was the power to call up the elements.”

I sat back in my chair as an image flashed in my mind, complete with sound, texture, sensations, color. Granny sitting in the backyard with me perched on her knee. I couldn’t have been more than four years old. “Call the wind, little one,” she crooned in my ear. “Call the wind.”

I’d lifted my chubby arms to the east, then sang a little song that came straight from my heart. “Wind is free, come to me, lift the leaves and stay with me.” In that moment, a strong east wind blew, pushing against the trade winds that swept from the west. The crisp breeze smelled like flowers and spring, touching us with a refreshing coolness I’d longed for during that long, hot, humid Southern summer. I could feel the caress of it on my cheeks, even now.

“Good girl,” Granny whispered in my ear. “I knew you could do it.”

I snapped back into the present with a start. Selene didn’t seem to notice. She continued on as if I hadn’t been away. Had I been away? Where did I go? Damn that Finnian. He’d probably get a laugh out of this. I struggled to focus on Sellie’s words.

“When we battled, I called on the elements to defeat him. They did. An ocean wave rose and crushed him to death, then pulled his body out to sea. Richard’s body, anyway. By the time the police found him, the fish had helped disguise the stab wound in his back. That was the wound where I’d killed him the first time. The sea killed them both the second time.” Sellie drew a long breath, her gray eyes dark and solemn. “Obviously, we didn’t tell the police about the entity. We let them assume Richard had been swept out to sea while trying to escape capture. I’ve never told anyone the real story, except Adrian and Sarabeth. And now, you.”

I could only stare at her for a long moment. Of all the things I’d assumed, this wasn’t what I thought. I knew she’d used the power to end the battle, but I thought it was some kind of weird spell or something. I didn’t know she’d called upon her own kind of allies, the elements. It was this that made her a witch, and a powerful one. Magic wasn’t eye of newt or wing of bat over a boiling cauldron. It was union, connection, and trust. Just as Granny had always said. I’d preferred to put my faith in things that I could see and touch. Not in the things that were truly real.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Sellie. I’m sorry you had to go through that alone.”

Selene smiled, then reached out for Adrian’s hand. “I wasn’t alone. I had his love.”

Adrian smiled, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

Selene turned toward me. “What does your guide say about this? What does it have to do with Brian’s death?”

How could I tell her? Did I even have a firm answer to that yet? How could I ruin the peace she’d risked everything to attain with Adrian? Was it up to me to put a cloud over their wedding, only three weeks away? The Otherworld had already made it clear that she was not to be involved. It was time for me to step up to the plate. I shook my head, my decision made.

“I needed to know, in case the same kind of situation came up for me. But I don’t think it will. Whatever this is, my ally is all I need to get through it, right? I wouldn’t be picked by the Universe to do this if I didn’t have the right stuff to take it on. You know that.” I patted her hand like a wise dowager. “Don’t worry, Sis. If I need your help, I’ll yell so loud you could hear me three counties away. Okay?”

Adrian leaned toward me, his brows furrowed. “Are you sure that’s all?”

I gave him my most innocent look, reminding myself that my brother-in-law-to-be, the former police chief and Chicago cop, wouldn’t be easy to fool. He was almost as good at getting the truth out of me as Selene. “Yes. I had another run-in with that Baxter guy in the dining hall. That’s what started all this. That, and working with my ally. He’s warned me to be careful. I will be, Sellie. I promise. You’ve shown me so much in the past year, just by being yourself. Mags and my ally will do the rest.”

“Hm.” Selene’s frown matched Adrian’s. “You’re hiding something. Your left eyebrow is arched, just a little bit. The higher the arch, the bigger the lie. What are you not telling me?”

I shook my head, forcing a bright smile. “Sellie, you’re hopeless.” I gave her a hug, then kissed her cheek. “I’m not the one hiding. You and Adrian were going at it on top the restaurant ledger during the lunch rush. Now that’s a secret worth keeping.”

They both laughed, as I expected. Oh, yeah. I hadn’t lost my touch.

I rose from my chair and smoothed my apron around my waist. “Well, back to work, then to the bar.”

Selene rose and put her hand on my shoulder. “Are you handling this okay? Do you need to take some more time off?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Work helps. It always has. I’ll see you guys later.” I turned to walk out the door, but allowed myself a parting shot.

“Oh, by the way. Great abs, brother in law.”

Adrian stood a little taller, then placed a hand on his stomach. “I try.”

I closed the door, then blew out my breath. I’d made it through the gauntlet. I had the information about last year that I needed. I’d put my sister’s fears to rest for one day. And I had at least a hint about the kind of thing I might be up against.

Not bad work for twenty minutes of effort.

I walked toward the kitchen, ready to finish my shift. Then I’d move on to Casey’s. But before that, I’d have a long talk with Finnian. It was “put up or shut up” time. If he had even an inkling of what I had to do in order to find Brian’s killers, he’d better be ready to tell me. I wasn’t above spiritually wrestling a cat.

*****

“Where are my keys? Has anyone seen my keys?”

I dug under the grocery bags on the kitchen counter, then through the newspapers on the table. How could they disappear? I’d put them in my purse only a few minutes ago. If I didn’t leave right now, I’d be late for work. I didn’t need Frank on my case. I crouched down on my hands and knees and searched under the table. Lissa’s tennis-shoed feet swung wildly, barely missing my head.

“Hey! Watch it!” I playfully slapped her toes.

“They aren’t under there, Aunt Izzy.” Her legs continued to swing, now in unison.

“I know where they are,” Steph said.

I turned, catching a glimpse of my elder niece’s jean-clad legs as she walked toward the refrigerator.

“Where? I need them right now!”

“The Good People took them. Right, Lissa?”

Lissa’s legs swung a bit faster in response. I pushed my way from beneath the table to shoot her a sharp look. What was she trying to do, decapitate me?

“Yup.” Lissa took another lick of her ice cream cone. “You made them mad, Aunt Izzy. You said the Fae weren’t real. Now you’ll have to make it up to them, or they won’t bring your car keys back.”

“What?” I stood up and brushed the dust from my knees. The stupid crinolines under my work uniform flipped up again, baring my satiny backside to the room.

Steph laughed, a sound I cut to the quick when I turned toward her.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “But what Lissa said is true. You’ll have to offer them a gift to make peace.”

“Like what?”

Lissa took another long lick of her cone. “Mama says to put a little bowl of milk in the garden. They like that. Tell them what you want to say, then check on the offering tomorrow. If the milk’s gone, they’re friends with you again.”

I stared at the girls. Why did they know this and I didn’t? I shook my head. Of course. They’d paid attention all their lives, absorbing magic like the rain on their faces or the air in their lungs, thanks to Sarabeth. It was Selene and I who had to catch up because of the choices we’d made when we were the girls’ ages. Selene had succeeded. I hoped it wasn’t too late for me.

“Worth a try, I guess.” I walked to the refrigerator and took out the milk, then poured a little bit of liquid into a delicate china bowl. The girls gave me a thumbs up as I walked out the back door.

I stepped into the flower beds, feeling a bit foolish. “Okay, Good People. I know I said you didn’t exist. I was wrong. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. I know you’re real. My guide has shown me how little I know about what’s beyond this world. I’m giving you this milk as an offering of friendship, to make up for my thoughtlessness. My father worked with you. My aunt works with you. I’d like to do the same, if you will it. I honor you and wish you blessing.” I leaned forward and placed the bowl next to a cluster of lavender. I hoped this was enough. What was it that Selene always said when she completed a magical act? Oh yeah. Might as well try that, too. “So mote it be.”

I stood, a sense of rightness filling my heart. This was simple, easy, and natural. The realization that the essence of who I was rested in things like this made me smile. I might be a difficult pupil, but I eventually caught on.

“Finnian? I need you.”

Immediately, the white light in my mind clicked on, then rolled over to show me the cat I expected. The entire experience still puzzled me. With my physical eyes, I saw the garden in front of me. With my mind’s eye, I perceived the garden as well as Finnian, sitting comfortably under a pink rose bush. Both at the same time. A week ago I would have counted this as a sure sign I needed psychiatric help. Not now. Who said people couldn’t change?

“I see you’ve reached out to the Fae.” Finnian sniffed at the milk, then sat facing me. “It should go well. They have a natural affinity for you, because of your father.”

“Finnian,” I said, pushing past the endless array of questions in my mind. I had to focus, to move ahead. “I need you to tell me anything you can about how to track Brian’s killers.”

Finnian remained quiet. I crouched down, ready to wait him out for as long as necessary.

He made a humming sound, then spoke. “I can only tell you what I see. The killers murdered him with intent, Isuelt. This was not an accident, nor a crime of sudden passion. They sought him specifically. They remain in secret, but walk freely among you.”

I bowed my head, a sick wash of pain in my stomach. “Why did they do it?”

Finnian cocked his head to the left. “I can only hear the distant murmur of their hearts. They cry out the words, ‘he desecrated the shrine.’ I am not sure what this means, Isuelt. Do you understand it?”

I put my hands on my hips. “How am I supposed to know? Aren’t you the one with all the answers?”

Finnian’s whiskers twitched. “I am only your teacher, Isuelt. I do not possess the powers of the Divine. I can only tell you what I see. I exist to advise, not to command. You must choose wisely, based on what you learn. That is always the way of things.”

“Well, I think it stinks.” I stood, frustration rippling through me. How was this supposed to help?

“I understand your feelings. What I have told you is all that has been revealed to me at this time. However, if you follow the trail set before you, it will become clearer. That, too, is the way of things. Is it not?”

I nodded, then crossed my arms. “At least it’s pretty sure that the killers aren’t random travelers, if what you say about them targeting and seeking out Brian is right. If they’re still hanging around to enjoy the chaos, they can be found.” I thought harder on the few details Brian told me about his life. Why did I know so little? Despite all the lovemaking between us and those few years we’d known each other as teenagers, we were virtual strangers.

I did recall one fact, however. “Brian used to live in Miami. That may be the place to start.”

Finnian nodded, but I could sense that he refrained from voicing a darker thought.

It didn’t matter. The thought already lingered in my brain, against my will. The prospect that someone from Fort Bedford killed Brian. A neighbor, a friend, a former classmate. I couldn’t accept that. This was my home. All that I’d ever known or wanted resided here. I’d spent my entire life in the ebb and flow of this frustrating, wonderful, ridiculous little spot on the planet. Could I be serving beers to Brian’s killers? Did his murderers wait alongside me at the post office, or walk next to me in the grocery store? Did I leisurely pass the time of day with them while they had his blood on their hands? No, it couldn’t be possible.

There was only one thing to do. A job that, by the will of the Universe, belonged to me alone. Me, the former queen of irresponsibility.

Find his killers. Find them fast.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“You’re late, MacPherson.”

“I know, I know.” I gave Frank a wave of my hand as I walked past him. “I had to take the bus to work. My car was, um, unavailable.” Frank was not a man with whom you could discuss car keys stolen by the Fae. Then again, not too many people outside my family would be able to handle that kind of information.

“You shoulda planned better.” He dropped the edge of the newspaper to give me a fish-eyed look.

“Yeah? You should ride public transportation dressed like this and see how you like it.” I puffed the crinolines beneath my palms. “I ought to get a raise for enduring the embarrassment.”

“Get to work,” Frank said, the edge of the paper flipping upright again. “Big night tonight. Basketball playoffs.”

“Yes, sir.” I tossed my purse into my locker and gave the rusty metal door a satisfying slam.

Frank didn’t jump an inch. “Push the nachos tonight. The chips are getting stale.”

“Well, my goodness. That’s reason enough, isn’t it?” I sighed, wondering why I worked in this joint.

By the time I hit the floor, I remembered. Despite Frank’s irritating behavior and our outrageous costumes, Casey’s held the heart of the town. Everyone came here, for fun, parties, drowning their sorrows or celebrating their joys. Working here made me a part of the lifeblood of the people I loved. A part of me needed that, just as much as a part of me needed to be away from them in order to breathe.

Was this push-pull feeling a part of being a faery doctor? Didn’t Daddy spend a majority of his time with others, yet always wander off to be alone? For the millionth time that day, I wished I knew more, understood more.

I picked up my tray and walked toward my station. The usual gang held court in their favorite section, gearing up for the game on the big screen. Baseball fans warred with basketball devotees this time of the year, but during the playoffs, no conflict existed. Only the battle for the championship trophy mattered. I took a quick scan of the crowd, seeking the most likely person with whom to start my secret investigation. I grinned when the perfect victim came into view.

Roger Harris. Mr. God’s-gift-to-women-insufferable-blowhard-won’t-ever-shut-up bank loan officer. He sat next to Lamont Sweeney as he downed another beer. At least five empty mugs sat around him. He belched loudly, then laughed and slapped Lamont on the back.

Oh, yeah. Better than perfect.

“Roger,” I purred, brushing against his arm with my crinolines. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.” I stacked the empty mugs on my tray, making sure that I gave Roger a full view of my rear as I bent over. I sensed it would be a good tactic, knowing him.

Roger’s gaze remained glued to my butt as he answered me. “Been busy, Miss Izzy. Hey, I made a rhyme!” He laughed, slapping Lamont on the back again. Lamont grunted from the impact.

“Well, you must be busy, with all the activity in town this summer. Have you met many new people? You must know just about everybody.” I smiled, leaning forward to give Roger a clear view down the front of my shirt. He swallowed visibly, then grinned.

“Well, you bet! I know anybody who’s anybody. And some people who’d rather not be known at all, if you catch my drift.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a vain attempt to impress me.

I giggled, making sure he assumed his plan worked. “Oh, do tell! Have you met anyone from Miami recently? How about Orlando?”

He leaned back in his chair and stroked his substantial belly. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I’ve recently met with some very important people from Miami.”

He reminded me of a perverse Troll doll, minus the spiky yellow hair. Rubbing his belly would most definitely not bestow good luck. I looked down at my stack of empty glasses to avoid watching Roger preen like a peacock. There was only so much a woman could bear, even at a time like this.

I took a deep breath and dived back in. “Go on. You know how I love gossip.” I lifted my chin to look at him through my lashes.

Roger cleared his throat, the beneficial effects of my seductive assault clear on his face. “They’re very important. Lots of money. They’re looking to invest in Fort Bedford property. We’re growing, you know. The new factory, more tourism. I’ve done a lot to sell this town, of course.”

I smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, I know you have. I admire you so much for that.”

“You do? I mean, well, yes. Thank you, Miss Izzy.” He grinned again, then reached over and stroked my arm. I tried my best to not dissolve into convulsions.

“What property were these bigwigs looking at?”

Roger frowned. “I really can’t say. Confidential, you know.”

I edged closer, as close as I could endure. “You can tell me, though. Can’t you?”

A few beads of sweat popped out on Roger’s upper lip. “I suppose you can keep a secret.” He glanced around, then leaned forward, his nose almost touching my cleavage. “The Miller place, as well as the acreage surrounding it.”

I stood up so abruptly, Roger nearly fell from his chair.

“That’s very interesting. Well, got to get back to work.” I flashed Lamont my trademark smile. “Let me know when you two want another round.” With that, I snatched my tray and walked away as quickly as I could.

The Miller property. Was this the key I’d been searching for? Mysterious, moneyed men from Miami, looking to buy property that everyone in town knew would never be considered for sale? The Millers moved to Fort Bedford at the same time my ancestor Jacob came to this area. They’d never let go of their ancestral land, any more than the MacPhersons would. Yet these men were here to buy, from out of nowhere.

I set the tray of glasses on the bar, then leaned on the wood, deep in thought.

“You’re good, Izzy. I ought to hire you to interview my subjects. You’d get them to spill their guts within five seconds.”

I turned to spy Eric at the end of the bar. His mug sat in front of him, almost empty. I walked behind the bar and pulled the tap to fill another one, then brought it to him.

“Following me again, Baxter?” I leaned forward, crossing my arms on the wood. “Don’t you ever get tired of being the bloodhound?”

He grinned, then lifted the glass to me in salute. “Never. Don’t you ever get tired of pretending to be what you aren’t?”

I pushed away from the bar. “What does that mean?”

Eric took a sip of the fresh beer, then licked the foam from his lips. “You know. Pretending to be dumb when you’re probably one of the sharpest women in town.”

I snorted, amused by his words. “Oh, yeah. Shows how much you know.” I grabbed a bowl of pretzels and set it in front of him. “If memory serves me right, you were the one reminding me of my high school GPA the other day. The one barely above failing?”

Eric turned his glass in his hands, his jaw set. “I’m sorry about that, Izzy. I came here with preconceived notions about you. I admit that I’ve found them to be incorrect.”

“Gee, thanks. But your information about the GPA was true.” I looked away, a familiar feeling of regret washing over me. “I guess that says it all.”

He took another sip, then shook his head. “Grade Point Average doesn’t reflect intelligence. It shows how hard you were willing to work. Einstein wasn’t interested in schoolwork and his grades reflected it. However, he was far from a dummy.”

I felt the warmth of a blush shimmy up my neck. “Yeah, well, I’m with Einstein about schoolwork. I agree with your point there.”

Eric grinned, a playful light in his eyes. “See, you are intelligent. You just agreed with me for the first time. A definite sign of high aptitude.”

I laughed. Really laughed. It felt as if I hadn’t done that in a lifetime. “You’re a riot, Baxter.”

He reached over and touched my hand. I didn’t feel any convulsions coming on. Eric’s touch did decidedly different things to my body. Warm things. Exciting things. I swallowed hard, but couldn’t quite bring myself to pull my hand away.

Eric grinned, his fingers stroking mine. “Being a riot’s not something I’m usually accused of. But in this case, I’m glad.”

I nodded my head. “You’re not so bad, I guess.” That was putting it mildly. My skin tingled under each of his fingertips as my knees grew weak.

“I’m glad to hear that. How about a truce? I’m on your side, Izzy. I admit I wasn’t always, but I am now.” He squeezed my hand, a gentle pressure that for a moment made me forget everything but him. “Let me prove it to you. Let me help you.”

Whoa, Nelly. “I don’t know what you mean.” I pulled my hand from his, busying myself with wiping down the bar.

He leaned forward, his voice low. “Let me help you find the person who killed Brian Miller. I know that’s what you’re after. Your visit to the crime scene. Pumping Roger Harris for information. Your interest in what’s going on with out-of-towners. I told you, I’m watching you. Not in a stalkerish way, don’t get me wrong. I observe things for a living. I listen, I evaluate. That’s how I dig deeper beneath the crimes I describe in my books. I see all the signs, Izzy. I also see that you’re in over your head.”

I bit back my response. This was worse than I thought. “You’ve got it all wrong, Eric. I assure you, there’s nothing like that going on in this little red head.” I flashed him a smile, working my age-old talent of distraction on him.

He narrowed his gaze, then picked up his mug. “Nice try. That stuff probably works on ninety–nine percent of the male population down here. But I don’t buy it, Izzy. When you’re ready, I’m waiting for you to let me in.”

He sat forward, his expression as if the words he’d spoken never existed. “Meanwhile, how about another beer? I appear to have emptied this one.” He handed his glass to me with a flourish.

I snatched it from his hands, then walked to the tap and pulled it hard. Damn Eric Baxter. Nothing but trouble in a silk suit. I risked a glance at him, then turned away. I’d forgotten how attractive trouble could be.

If you can’t be smart, Izzy, be safe. That’s what Sarabeth used to tell me. I hoped that advice would be enough.

The doors of the bar opened as four huge mountains of manhood strolled into the room. The energy shifted immediately. A wary sense of self-protectiveness radiated from the usual patrons as the interlopers took their seats.

I recognized them. The Mega Movers from earlier in the day. They took over the largest table in my section, the only one big enough to hold them. I released a deep sigh and girded myself for the experience.

Eric set his mug on the bar. “What’s wrong?”

I glanced at him, then shook my head. “Just a bunch of out of town assholes. I can handle them.” I grabbed my order book and headed their direction.

The biggest one grinned as soon as he laid eyes on me. “Hey, honey. We hoped we’d see you here. You do get around, don’tcha? At least, I hope so.” The other men laughed, but I didn’t have a problem maintaining a stony expression.

I lifted my pencil over the pad. “Welcome to Casey’s. May I take your order?”

The one with the mustache grinned at me. He made Roger look like Prince Charming. “I sure hope so. I like a woman who does what I tell her.”

I knew not to reply to any comments made by out–of–towners. I’d learned over the years that the less feedback they received the less fun the game was for them. Most of them eventually gave up. “I’d recommend Casey’s Super Nachos.” Perfect match for this group. Stale, like their breath.

“Sounds good. Bring it right out, baby, we’re starving,” the one with the goatee said. “And a round of beers, too.”

The last man, smaller than the others, leaned toward me over the table “Yeah, we got appetites just dyin’ to be filled. Don’t we, boys?”

More laughter. What jerks. The Universe must have been napping when these four made it out of the eternal factory. “I’ll be right back with your order.”

For a moment I missed Marty Morrisette and his butt-slapping habit. He was much more pleasant to deal with than these clods. I gave Frank the nacho order, then endured his glee over finally unloading some of the merchandise. Stewie pulled four beers for me as I stood watching the strangers hoop and holler over the game. Maybe it would be all right. As I said, I could handle them.

I glanced at the end of the bar. Eric no longer sat in his chair. I scanned the building. No sign of him. Well, how nice and polite, to leave without saying a word.

My instincts gave my thoughts a little shove. Wasn’t that what I wanted? For Eric to leave me alone? I rubbed my face with my fingertips, stifling a moan. Life had become so bewildering over the past few days. I couldn’t keep up with the revolutions.

Stewie set the four glasses on my tray. “Here you go, Iz. You want me to take it to them? I don’t like the look of those guys. They’re treating you bad. Makes me angry.”

“You’re sweet, Stewie. No, I can do it. I’ve been dealing with jokers like this for years. No problem.”

“If you’re sure.” Stewie kept a sharp gaze on the men.

I gave him a reassuring grin. “I am. Hey, you have to deal with Frank more than I do. Maybe I ought to be the one stepping in to protect you.”

Stewie smiled sheepishly. “Naw. Frank’s a pussycat.”

“Uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes behind Stewie’s back while he grabbed the nacho plate from the service window. The guy was too kind. Frank would have him ready for the psycho ward within a month.

I loaded up my tray, then lifted it onto my left shoulder and made my way to the table. The men quieted down while I served them. Maybe they’d run out of bravado.

“Thanks, honey. Hey, you want to get some drinks with us after this joint closes? We know a little place in the next county that stays open late.”

I swallowed my laughter and focused on remaining business-like. “No, I’m sorry. I’m not allowed to go out with any of the customers. Company rules.”

The smaller one lifted his head, taking a break from shoving nachos in his mouth. “Oh, yeah? Weren’t you cozying up to that guy at the bar when we came in?”

Who did he mean? Stewie? Certainly not Eric. I wasn’t cozying up to Eric. Was I?

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.” I walked away, my inner alarm ringing so loudly I worried that others could hear it. Keep your distance from these guys, it said. For once I was determined to heed the warning.

By the time two-thirty rolled around, my feet were literally crying from the pain. I needed sleep, at least ten hours of it. Maybe Mags would give me a morning off from greeting the sunrise. If that was part of being a faery doctor, I wasn’t sure how well I’d do. My sleep habits demanded their rights.

I slipped off my heels and walked toward the front door. “Nite, Frank. Stewie. Hey, Mar, Stacy, see you guys tomorrow.” They called out to me, bent over their own work. Except for Frank, who never told anyone good night, good morning, or go to hell. His only greeting consisted of “get to work.” Dear, dear, Frank.

The night air swept over my skin as soon as I emerged from the bar. I wandered into the parking lot, entranced by the sky of bright stars overhead. Summer in Fort Bedford. There was nothing sweeter. It would feel so good to drive home with the windows down, my hair streaming in the wind and Tim McGraw blaring as loud as I could turn him up on the radio. Oh, yeah. Real freedom, real–

I slapped my forehead. No car. I’d ridden the bus to work, and now the buses weren’t running. Now I had to go inside and beg a ride from one of my co-workers, or worse, ask Frank. I’d never hear the end of that one. I turned toward the building when a voice under the trees stopped me.

“What’s the matter, honey? Looking for us?”

I froze, my hands gripping my shoes so hard I thought I’d leave an imprint in the leather.

The biggest one of the four emerged from the shadows, a bit unsteady on his feet. The other three followed. The biggest one, the one built like Mount Everest, hiccupped once. Then he grinned, his face flushed and sweaty. “We’ve been waiting for you to party with us. You’ll have a good time, baby. We won’t tell the boss, will we, boys?”

The other men noisily agreed with him. I began to move very slowly toward the building. Sanctuary lay at least twenty yards away.

“Sorry, boys. That sounds like fun, but I really do have to go home. My boyfriend will be here any minute to pick me up.”

The man laughed, advancing toward me carefully as if I was a rabbit he wanted to herd into a trap. “Good. Gives us plenty of time to take off before he gets here. We won’t tell him, either.”

I glanced around the parking lot, willing one of my co-workers to come outside. If I screamed from this distance, they wouldn’t hear me over the big screen TV still blasting over the speakers. My only hope was to run. I tensed, ready to make my move.

The goateed man grabbed my arm before I could make the break. “Whoa there, honey. We just want a little fun. That’s all.”

“Let me go,” I ordered, my voice firm.

The smaller one stepped forward, then reached out to stroke a lock of my hair. “We will, baby. Afterward.”

With that, the mustached one grabbed me around my waist, while the big one clamped a hand over my mouth. I screamed, but I couldn’t hear myself. Hands touched me from all directions, grasping, pinching, clutching. I struggled against them, but they were too strong for me. Oh, God, I was–

A squeal of tires sounded immediately behind us, throwing the men off balance.

“Let her go!” a man’s voice yelled.

I turned my head as the big one’s meaty paw finally lifted from my mouth. “Eric!”

“Let her go, gentlemen. You have no idea whom you’re dealing with.”

The biggest one laughed. “Oh, yeah? Same to you, buddy. I’m gonna enjoy bashing your skull in.” He shoved me into the arms of the mustached one, then bent down to pick up a tire iron near his foot. I hadn’t known they were armed. The biggest one swung the iron in the air, barely missing Eric’s car.

Eric grinned. “Impressive. So is this.” He lifted the shining barrel of a gun and leveled it at the big one. He immediately stopped, the tire iron falling to the ground.

“I knew you were a wise man. Let the girl go, and I’ll think about not shooting your dick off right here.” He lowered the gun as if to punctuate his words. “Or maybe I’ll start with that one over there. Or that one.” Eric moved the gun slightly, allowing each man to feel its threat.

“Okay, okay,” the mustached one said, shoving me toward Eric’s black sedan. “Let’s go.”

The other three men shot Eric looks that told him what they’d like to do the minute he didn’t have a gun, but they turned and climbed into the cab of their moving van. In seconds, they were gone.

I stumbled next to the car, my hands shaking as I pulled the latch of the passenger door. Finally I fell into the seat and slammed the door shut behind me. The sudden warmth of the car, the silence that cried out safety, seemed to only increase my tremors. I looked up at Eric. He sat still glancing out his window, as if I wasn’t there. I finally reached out and touched his shoulder. He turned and pulled the toy gun into his lap, his breathing heavy. Finally he looked at me and began to laugh.

“I did it.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Yes. You did. Where did you come from?” I felt disconnected, as if everything inside of me was dulled, like a kitchen knife used too many times. Eric’s words seemed muffled, distant.

“I knew those guys would be trouble. I sat in my car until you got off work, to make sure you’d be safe. I didn’t see them under the trees. That was my fault. But I did see them grab you. I had to wait until the right moment, when they’d be taken off guard. I’m sorry I didn’t see them arrive sooner, Izzy. I’m sorry they–“

He paused, then turned toward me. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“No,” I replied, my voice sounding as if I’d fallen into a well. “I’m okay. You have a gun. Where did you get a gun? Do you carry it around with you or something? What are you, Doc Holliday?”

Eric lifted the pistol. “This? Oh, it’s not real. I bought it in New York to give to my nephew. Looks real, doesn’t it?” He examined the craftsmanship of the toy, then gave me a grin.

“You threatened those men with a toy gun? Are you insane? What would you have done if they hadn’t gone along with you? Good God, Eric, you could have gotten yourself killed!” I leaned over and slugged him in the arm as hard as I could.

“Ow! Damn it, Izzy! If they hadn’t gone for the plan, I was prepared to get out of this car and beat them to a pulp with my bare hands. But they did go for it. I didn’t get killed.” He looked up at me. “And the last I checked, neither did you.”

In that moment, the horror of the night hit me. I fell apart in front of Eric, my tears knowing no limit. He pulled me from my seat and into his lap, then rocked me like a child until I was done.

I lifted my head, wiping at the wet stain on his shirt. “I seem to keep doing this when you’re around,” I whispered.

He chuckled, then kissed my forehead. “That’s okay. You laughed with me earlier. That’s a good sign.”

I tried to smile through my tears. “And you know what all the signs mean, don’t you, Mr. I’m-So-Observant.”

“Yes, I do,” he whispered.

I looked into his eyes, the moment lingering between us like the breath of a dove. I didn’t think. I didn’t want to. I leaned toward him and pressed my lips to his.

I expected a chaste, brief kiss, the kind you give to someone you don’t know that well. Instead, he opened his mouth beneath mine. His hands tightened on my shoulders as I burrowed my hands into his hair. This was no sweet kiss. An explosion of erotic flame burst around us, sucking us into the inferno. I couldn’t get enough. My tongue danced with his, licking, tasting, needing. I pressed my breasts against him, wishing there was nothing between us but the soft touch of our skin. This was real. This was–

The car horn honked a long blast, startling us. We’d leaned too far forward and hit the button. The door of the bar opened and Frank stepped outside. I could see the red glow of his lit cigar as he turned this way and that, searching for the source of the disturbance. He leaned forward in the dark, his hands on his knees.

“MacPherson! Is that you out there? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

I leaned over Eric and called out. “Nothing, you big fat sweetheart! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Frank stood up abruptly. The “sweetheart” part of my message apparently took him aback.

“Yeah, well, don’t be late!” he yelled. Then he turned and lumbered back into the bar.

I looked at Eric. His dark cinnamon eyes burned with a simmering, aroused emotion I recognized. Despite our kiss, I pulled away and sat in the passenger seat. I lifted my gaze to him, silently asking for understanding.

He smiled, then put his hands on the wheel. “I’ll take you home.”

“Thank you, Eric,” I whispered. “For everything.”

He took my hand and held it as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main highway. “I told you, Izzy. I’m not leaving.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I rolled over in bed and stared at the ceiling. Tuesday. Brian’s funeral. I wouldn’t be allowed to attend, since Gladys banned me from the funeral home and the cemetery. There was only one thing to do.

I rose from the bed, unsteady on my feet after last night’s trauma. I walked to the little altar I’d built. Mags advised me that was the first concrete thing to do. Provide a sacred space for myself, where I could be alone and connect. It wasn’t much. Seashells from the shore. A white candle. A feather dropped from a gull. Some salt in a little crystal bowl. A photo of my parents, to honor my ancestors. The simplicity of the arrangement calmed me, grounded me to the earth even as it lifted my mind to things of spirit. I lit the white candle, then sat before the low table.

I lifted my eyes to the dawn streaming in through the window. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. But I’m asking for blessings for Brian, for peace for his soul and an existence of happiness for him, to make up for all the pain of his parting from this world. Maybe I didn’t know him very well. I’m sorry about that. But what I did know of him was good. He was kind. He was funny. And he dared to love others.” I dropped my head and sighed. I might as well be fully honest. “Even when they didn’t love him the same way.” I lifted my chin and stared into the candle flame. “Be blessed, Brian.” I leaned forward and snuffed out the candle with my fingertips.

“Very good,” Finnian whispered.

I turned to my right, no longer surprised to see him there. What a change, in only a short period of time. “Thanks. It’s the least I can do.”

Finnian rubbed his soft white head against my arm. “It was heard. That is more than you can imagine.”

“I hope so.” I stood, then grabbed my hip when a flash of pain shot down my leg.

Finnian rushed to my side. “You have been injured, Isuelt.” He rubbed his head on my shin, then wound himself around my leg. “Hm. It is not serious, however.”

“Good.” I walked to the bed and lay down, grimacing from the throb in my muscles. Finnian climbed on the bed next to me, then placed his tiny paws on my hip. He closed his eyes, his breaths even and slow, as he gently kneaded my skin. Gradually, the sharp pain eased. Only a bit of soreness lingered.

“Um, thanks,” I said.

He nestled beside me, resting his small chin on my belly. “You’re welcome.”

“That was nice. But where were you last night?” I lifted my head from the pillow to look at him. “Aren’t you supposed to protect me?”

He blew out a sigh. “I did. How do you think Eric conceived the idea to wait in the parking lot instead of going home as he’d planned?”

My head plopped back onto the pillow. “Oh. So that had nothing to do with his concern for me.”

Finnian chuckled. “Of course it did. If he did not already have those feelings in regard to you, my suggestion would have passed over him like a gust of wind. However, it did not. It found firm footing and settled deeply. That is a fact to mull over, Isuelt.” The cat’s whiskers twitched, the way they always did when I amused him. “If you choose to do so, that is.”

“I’m going back to sleep.” I rolled onto my side. Finnian’s small body moved with me. Now he lay across my body, perfectly comfortable. He began to purr and “make bread”, kneading my ribs. I pulled the sheet higher over my shoulder. “I mean it. I’m going back to sleep.”

“If you do, you will miss the most superb part of the day.”

I glanced over my shoulder at him. “I’ve only had two hours of shut–eye. Get real.”

Finnian stood on my hip, his small feet like tiny rods digging into my side. “Sleep can always be captured. This sunrise is only for today. Come and greet the dawn, Isuelt.”

“All right, all right.” I threw off the covers, grumbling under my breath. Finnian followed me to the window. I pulled aside the curtains and crawled outside onto the small balcony. My room had a view of the sea grass field, the distant shore, and to my left, the rising sun. I stood straight just as the wind picked up, tossing my hair away from my shoulders. The sun rose, brilliant and white over a sky of pink, blue, and yellow. I held my breath, overwhelmed by the beauty. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then greeted the directions of the earth in the way Mags had taught me. I didn’t have an honoring stone yet, but that was okay. I had myself. Finally I faced the sunrise again. Peace filled my heart, entering every nook and cranny.

“So mote it be,” a soft voice said.

I turned to my right. Mags stood on her tiny balcony, her lavender peignoir flapping in the breeze. I knew she had spent the last few minutes doing the same as I, honoring what was beyond ourselves and offering our hearts and minds to the service of the Divine. In that moment, I knew that we would never be apart. The reality of that gifted me with a gentle happiness. I smiled at her and nodded. She returned the gesture, then crawled back through her window into her room.

I leaned on the wrought-iron railing of the balcony and faced the sun as it rose higher in the sky. “Blessed be, Brian. I release you to the Universe.”

For an instant, the guilt I carried lessened. I breathed deeply, grateful for that small bit of freedom in my soul.

I turned to re-enter my room, but my foot caught on something on the floor of the balcony. I looked down, concerned. The area had been clear when I stepped out of my window. I’d checked, not wanting to put my bare feet on anything sharp. I bent down to inspect the item, then fell backward on my rear in amazement.

My car keys. Right in the middle of the balcony. Next to them lay a smooth, flat rock the size of my palm, pure white with a large, round hole in the middle. I picked it up, testing its weight in my hand. For some reason, I felt like laughing. The rock emitted a kind of joy, a lightness of being that was irresistible. I lifted the rock to my eye, looking through it like a telescope. Might as well have some fun with it.

I almost dropped the stone when I looked through. Another landscape spread before my eyes inside the hole. Rolling green hills, the sun setting in the west, white horses running along a shore. There were people there, dancing around a bonfire, laughing and singing. I could hear them, as if I was there. They looked strange, their clothes shimmering with threads that I didn’t think existed. Some were fair and tall, others darker and smaller. One looked up at me and pointed, then waved.

I pulled the stone from my eye. “Aunt Mags!” I screamed. “Mags!”

My aunt’s head popped out her window, her white hair puffed to the side with the teasing comb still stuck in it. “Geez! You scared the life out of me! What is it?”

“This!” I held the stone toward her in my trembling hand. “What is it?”

Mag’s mouth formed a little “o” as her eyes grew wide. “Oh. My. God.” She pulled her head into her room, then looked out again. “Wait right there. Don’t move.”

“No problem.” I couldn’t have stood at that moment if I wanted to. I picked up my car keys and examined them. Yup, all present and accounted for. I glanced around me, wondering how, when, why.

“Um, I appreciate this, Good People,” I said, a strange, dizzy feeling humming in my veins.

The door of my room opened. Mags moved to the window, then crawled out onto the balcony beside me.

“I hope this old terrace holds us. It’s a long way down.” She pulled her long skirts behind her, then tucked them like a pillow under her rear before she sat.

“Don’t worry. I used to tie sheets from it to sneak out at night. It’ll hold, I promise.”

Mags shook her finger at me, her blue eyes dancing with amusement. “You were a naughty, naughty girl.”

I shrugged, giving her the same look. “Yeah. A lot like you, I bet.”

Mags laughed. “You’re right.”

She grew solemn as her gaze lit on the white stone in my hand. “I can’t believe it. They’ve given you a faery stone. I never expected that.”

I lifted the stone in my hand. “Faery stone? Is that what it’s called? What is it supposed to do?”

Mags leaned forward, then touched the stone reverently. “It’s a portal stone, Izzy. With this, you can see into the Otherworld. You can see the Fae as they move about in this world. And they can see you, the you that you really are. It connects you with them almost immediately.” Mags cocked her head, a dreamy expression in her eyes. “I’ve never seen one of these. Mama used to talk about them, though. Her great–grandmother had one, just like yours. Given to her by the Fae. She was one of the most powerful faery doctors in Ireland. Just like–“ Mags paused, sitting away from me as if seeing me for the first time. “Just like you will be. This stone seals it.”

I turned the stone in my hands, the impact of her words too much to bear. “I can’t believe that. I’m not powerful. The Fae can’t mean this for me. Maybe they got the wrong sister.”

Mags reached out and took my hand firmly in hers. “They do not make mistakes. You may not be ready to fully understand your calling, but that doesn’t change what is true. That they would give you this stone now, so early in your training–-that means that whatever you are doing is vitally important. So important they are willing to risk a tool like this in the hands of a beginner who isn’t fully comfortable in her own skin. They believe in you, Izzy. Even if you don’t believe in yourself.”

I shook my head, but held the stone close to my heart. “I’ll try not to fail. I don’t know what else to say, Mags.”

Mags smiled, then slowly pulled herself to her feet. “All will be made clear, in precisely the way it is meant to be. Trust them, Izzy. Trust the Universe.”

I looked down, not wanting Mags to see how little I trusted anyone or anything. I wanted to be like her, like Selene and Sarabeth, or even the girls. Eric’s image flashed in my mind. The vision of his arms around me last night, his lips brushing my brow as I cried. He’d stood up for me, risked his life to protect me. Trust. Could I let myself trust him?

I rubbed my temples, closing my eyes to the sunlight. If only things weren’t moving so fast, if only my life wasn’t sucked into this grinding whirlwind. Too much, too soon. Damn, I needed a cigarette.

“I’ll leave you to your meditation.” Mags crawled through the window, then stuck her head back through. “Think about what I said, Izzy. What they want of you must be important, in order for things to come to fruition this way.”

“I know.” I leaned back on the side of the house and spread my feet on the balcony. I looked over my shoulder and smiled. “Thank you, Aunt Mags. You’re not the Hag from Hell anymore.”

“Only if I don’t get my coffee in the morning.” She laughed, then moved from the window and walked across my room. “See you downstairs. We’ve got fish to fry.”

“Yes, we very much do,” I whispered. A couple of killers, to be exact. I turned toward the sun and lifted my chin. “I won’t let you down, Brian. I promise.”

I grabbed my cigarettes from the side table next to the window, then pulled the lighter from the pack and lit one. I drew in a lungful of smoke, then blew it out with pure satisfaction. I could cut back on my habit, but I’d never quit entirely. Despite Mag’s warning about their blocking my energy, my ciggies gave me pleasure. There couldn’t be something wrong with a little gratification.

Eric’s image burst into my mind at that thought, but I pushed it away. Was it too late for me to escape that particular pitfall? The look in his eyes last night told me we were far from finished with whatever brewed between us.

I rubbed my eyes, overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last few days. Then I glanced at the faery stone in my lap. I picked it up and held it level to my nose. “I may not know how to use you, but I bet you’ll show me how.” I took another drag of delicious smoke as Finnian stepped through the window and curled at my side. I leaned my head against the wall and chuckled. Me, my cigarette, my spirit cat, and my faery stone. As crazy as it sounded, we fit together perfectly.

*****

With the faery stone snug in my denim shorts pocket, I hit the streets of Fort Bedford. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I hit Main Street, where all the action takes place. The men from Miami that Roger bragged about would have most likely made an appearance there. Most of the better restaurants–with the exception of Mimosas and Magnolias–were located in the central district. The better hotels resided there as well. If these men were scoping out property, they had money. They wouldn’t be staying at the Budget Inn on IH 10. They’d be holed up someplace ritzy, where their privacy and wishes would be respected. At least that’s what my instincts cried out. Might as well trust them for once.

I passed several stores, peeking inside each of them with a sidelong glance for anyone who didn’t look familiar. The wind picked up my hair, blowing it across my face. It felt good, cleansing, as if all the bad things that had happened lifted away. I turned my face to the breeze, wishing the consolation could last forever. I knew that wasn’t possible.

Bad things. That was an understatement. I shivered to think how close I’d come to serious trouble last night. I’d fought off men like that before and won. But never in a group, like animals circling for the kill. If Eric hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t saved me—

“Hey, Izzy!”

I looked up to see Becca Nelson emerge from the hardware store two doors away. I shook off my dark thoughts and smiled, glad to see her. I’d wondered how she’d fared since that night in the parking lot, but I hadn’t had a free moment to check on her. Guilt coursed through me. Becca had finally accepted me after Brian’s death. She’d treated me like a big sister. I owed her the attention she deserved.

I met her halfway and put my arms around her in a hug. She embraced me in return, her small hands clutching my shoulders tight.

“I’m so glad to see you.” Becca brushed her long dark hair out of her eyes, then gave me a bright smile. “Mama and I want you to come over to visit real soon.”

“I will. How are you two doing, after the other night?”

Becca looked away, a dark shadow moving over her features so quickly I barely caught it. Then she turned to me with a wide grin, as if some kind of automated switch had been turned on.

“We’re fine. Very fine. I’m sorry I lost control. It was hard for me to bear, you know? Another murder, just like Sean’s. Have they caught the people who did it?”

I glanced around, continuing my watch for strangers. “Not yet. Harlan won’t tell me anything. He wants to keep me out of the loop, but I have a surprise for him. I won’t sit still while Brian’s murderers walk around free.”

Becca’s grip on the white plastic bag in her hands tightened. “Did you know Brian very well?”

I sucked in a breath, then forced myself to relax. “Um, no, not really. We were classmates in high school. That’s all.”

Becca’s stare could have bored a hole into my head. “Interesting. I have to go. Come by the house soon. Mama expects you.”

With that, she turned on her heel and took off, as if I’d lit her shirttail on fire. What was up with her? She was most definitely not fine. I promised myself to visit the Nelson farm soon. Perhaps Mary Jane could shed some light on Becca’s strange behavior. Then I could try to do something to help her. I owed that to Sean’s memory. Hey, wasn’t that what a faery doctor was supposed to do? Help? Not that I had the faintest idea how. Damn. There were simply too many things going on. I couldn’t keep up with them.

I shoved my hair out of my face and set my jaw. I needed to choose one thing and focus on it. First up on the list -- the men from Miami. I ducked my head, anxious to clear the disarray of my thoughts and energy. Be a laser, I told myself. Hone in, be exact, don’t let anything distract you. I lifted my head, determination settling into place. I held that decision right up until the moment I turned the corner and ran into Eric.

“Izzy,” he said, catching my shoulders as we collided. “I was on my way to your house. But I see you’ve come to me.” He gave me that electrifying grin, coupled with his sexy I–know–you–want–it expression.

My skin tingled beneath his palms, turning my blood to warm honey. Oh yeah. I did want it. I was ashamed to admit how much. I knew I shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. No, I hadn’t been in love with Brian. We’d been bed partners and enjoyed it, but–it was the day of Brian’s funeral, for God’s sake. A little restraint wasn’t too much to ask. I owed Eric for saving my life. That didn’t mean I was ready to repay him with a hop in the sack.

That’s all it would be. Wouldn’t it?

I looked into Eric’s sable eyes as he leaned toward me. The promises they made caressed my senses. Pleasure, passion, heat. The urge to let go, to lose myself in what he offered, enticed me with seductive allure. It would be so good, so healing.

I shook my head and pulled away from him. Get a grip on reality, I told myself. I couldn’t indulge in any more hormonally–driven fantasies. The only choice was to force him to take his sexy bag of tricks and hit the road.

“Sorry, Baxter. I wasn’t looking for you. I’m in town to do some shopping before I start the lunch rush at the M and M. Got to go. See ya.” I moved to walk around him.

He stepped closer. The scent of his aftershave curled around me. A spicy, rich fragrance that spoke of India and veiled intimacy. Or was it the scent of his skin alone, his natural way of being? I almost swayed on my feet. I leaned against the brick wall behind me to cover my reaction. He leaned in, placing a hand over my head.

“Even if you didn’t plan on finding me, I’m glad you did.”

His expression sobered when he saw the bruise peeking out from under the arm of my T–shirt. I’d noticed it this morning but tried to ignore it. Shaped like the meaty paw that had caused it, it was a reminder of last night that I didn’t want to dwell on. Eric reached out and gently pulled up the edge of my sleeve. His eyes darkened to almost black as he sucked in a breath.

“Damn it. He did hurt you. Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

“I didn’t see it or feel it until this morning. That’s how bruises are.”

He lifted his gaze to my eyes. I could feel his mind searching, seeking entry into mine. I looked away, but he turned my chin back to face him.

“Are you experienced with how bruises are, Izzy?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “It’s no big deal. I’ve handled it.” I didn’t want to tell him the number of drunks I’d dealt with at the bar, men who didn’t want “no” or “stop” as an answer. I’d won the battle every time, so I thought that was the end of it. Maybe it wasn’t. I looked down, wondering why I’d been so casual about it.

“It is a big deal.” Eric pulled down my sleeve gently, hiding the wound once more. “No man should put a hand on you unless you want it.”

His slow, tender movements seemed to unhinge both my resolve and my mouth. I looked up at him, a warm glow spreading in my belly. “What about you? Do you want your hands on me, Eric?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes showed the conflict inside him. Finally his gaze calmed and he leaned next to my ear. His breath was warm and sweet against my neck, like velvet sheets at midnight. “Yes,” he whispered. “But not until you invite me. Not until you say, ‘Eric, I want you.’”

I could have said it right then. I wanted to throw my arms around him and find out what lay behind those dark, brooding eyes. I didn’t. I thought I was burdened with distractions now? Sleeping with Eric would top them all.

I stepped away from the heat of his body. “I’ve got to go. I have things to do.”

He stood straight, some of his former coolness returning. “Things like track a killer? You need me, Izzy. You’re overwhelmed. I can see it in your face. You don’t know what you’re doing. I do.”

“Yeah, right. You know it all, don’t you.” I took another step back. A sharp edge of anxiety rose in my chest, urging me to run, to escape his gaze before he saw too much. As if on cue, my inner protective wall encircled me, pulsing with energy.

I laughed, the sound harsh to my ear. “You’re a real trip, Eric. One day you’re ridiculing me. The next you’re saying to call you when I want some fucking. Damned near schizophrenic, if you ask me. Why don’t you make up your mind?”

He took a step forward, his lips thinned in frustration. “I’ve apologized for my earlier behavior. It’s not like that and you know it. I’m not interested in fucking you. I am interested in making love to you. There’s a difference.”

“So you say. Don’t hold your breath waiting for me to beg you.”

“I never said beg. I said ask. What’s the matter, Izzy? Does a real man scare you? One who can go toe to toe with you? One you can’t sidetrack or manipulate? One who will treat you with love because of who you are, not in spite of it?”

I took two more steps away, my inner alarm blaring in my ears. “Leave me alone, Eric. I’m grateful for last night, but -- just go away.”

Eric followed, edging closer. “Why? So you can crawl back into your hole? Pretend you’re stupid, worthless, not worth the effort? Why do you lie to yourself?”

“You don’t know anything about me!” I turned away, unexpected tears dotting my lashes. I blinked them clear, refusing to give them power.

“I believe in you, Izzy,” he said, no longer advancing toward me. “So should you.”

I walked faster, then turned the corner of the street leading to the bay. I leaned against the wall of the local bank, my heart pounding. Eric didn’t know me. He was as wrong now as he was a few days ago. I knew what I was. Everybody in town knew.

I risked a glance around the edge of the building. No sign of Eric in pursuit. Relieved, I leaned my head against the wall once more and drew in a shaky breath. I’d given up fighting to change what I was a long time ago. Instead, I’d learned to work it to my advantage. I needed to do that now, in order to do my job. For Brian’s sake. I could handle this hunt on my own.

I straightened my shoulders, giving myself a good pep talk. Then I resumed my stroll down the street. The bank, the craft shop, the music store, the local easy–mart. A few of the stores stood empty, the proprietors alone with their silent cash registers. I realized that many of the locals, particularly the well–to–do, were at the mortuary to attend Brian’s funeral. That would make spotting strangers even simpler. I nodded to myself with satisfaction. I didn’t need Eric to draw the right conclusions. This was my town, not his.

I passed the ice cream shop, the “two for one cones” sign pasted to the window catching my attention. I took a quick glance into the cool interior of the store. Then I skidded to a stop. Four strangers stood at the counter, ordering cones. Their clothes, their demeanor, the look on their faces. These men weren’t tourists out for a good time in a small town. They had a purpose. The sense of resolve in them flowed like water from a fountain. I walked closer to the doorway, my hand gripping the wood.

One of the strangers glanced up at me, then smiled the kind of smile I’d grown accustomed to receiving from men–that appraising, curious, flirtatious flash of teeth, as if they’d tossed a hook into the water to see if I’d bite. I smiled in response, pushing down the tumult of emotions inside me.

To hell with Eric and his off–base analysis. This was the shark I’d been looking for, and I had just the right lure. I walked into the store, trailing my fingertips against the cool glass of the refrigerated display case. I concentrated on giving off cool, seductive energy. Extra bait for the hook.

“Hello,” a deep voice said. The darkest man in the group, more tanned than George Hamilton could ever hope to be, winked at me. Very Miami, from his rich tan to his expensive shoes. I’d start with him first.

“Hi,” I replied, fixing an inviting smile to my lips. “Looking for something sweet?”

The man glanced at the ice cream, then back at me. “I’m not sure which one is more delicious.”

I leaned next to him and peered into the case. “I’d pick the Rocky Road. I like a little danger with my dessert.”

“My kind of woman,” he said, moving closer. He motioned to the counter. “Pick out what you like. My treat. It’s two for one. “

“Why, that’s so kind of you.” I gave him my best Southern Belle look, pure Scarlett O’Hara.

He visibly melted, a sappy grin on his face. If things were this easy, I’d have the identity of the killers by nightfall.

I gave my order to the teenager behind the counter. “I’ll have Rocky Road with a second of Fudge Brownie.” I looked up at the George Wannabe and licked my upper lip. “I go for the dark side. More fun that way. Don’t you think?”

He didn’t respond. He seemed to have trouble breathing. Good.

The kid behind the counter passed us our cones. Pseudo–George motioned to a table in the back of the room. The other men frowned at him, then talked furiously between themselves. Finally my escort joined them and barked a few orders. They left, shooting angry looks over their shoulders. I licked my cone and took mental notes.

He returned to the table, then sat down across from me. “Sorry. Had to get rid of my associates so we could enjoy ourselves.” His cones dribbled down the side of his hands, but he didn’t seem to notice. “So, pretty lady. How come I haven’t seen anything like you in this hell hole before?”

I licked my cone, making sure to take long, slow, sensuous tastes. I doubted he’d hear anything I had to say, which was fine. I was more interested in listening to him. “I’ve been around. Maybe you haven’t been looking hard enough. How long have you been in town?”

“About five days,” he replied.

A jolt shook my body as his answer drove into my brain. Five days. Since the day Brian was killed. I took a bite of the cold ice cream to give myself a moment to gather my wits.

“Really. What brings you to this hell hole, as you say? Doing some beachcombing?”

He laughed, a short little bark that didn’t ring true. “No. I’m here on business.”

“What kind of business?” I didn’t raise my eyes to him. I wasn’t sure I could hide my nervousness.

He finally noticed the ice cream dripping onto the table from his hands. He plopped the cones into the bowl the counter attendant had given us, then grabbed some napkins from the silver container. “Acquisition. We had a lead on some very good property here. Even had someone working for us locally to secure it. Didn’t pan out. Too bad.” His expression grew stony as he spoke. “We have other avenues planned.”

“Tell me more. I’m fascinated.” I literally purred as I focused again on my cone.

Pseudo–George crossed his arms on the table, the diamond rings on his fingers flashing little points of light onto the walls. His grin was sly as leaned toward me. “You don’t really want to know all about that, do you? How about we take a drive? I’ve found a secluded spot on the beach I think you’d love.”

Hah, I thought, taking the last bite of my Rocky Road cone. Fat chance. I tossed my Fudge Brownie cone into the bowl beside his.

“That sounds lovely. But I have to work. Maybe some other time.” I rose to leave, giving him a smile. He grabbed my wrist a bit too hard.

“I don’t want you to go.”

I looked into his eyes and saw the hard, cold man inside. Only one way to deal with this kind of male. Give him the same treatment in return.

I grabbed his finger and pressed on a spot behind his knuckle. His hold immediately slackened. “You don’t always get what you want, baby. But you might, if you try a little honey and less vinegar.”

His hard expression shifted to a cool smugness. “You’re the Queen Bee in town, aren’t you? I like that. Okay, sweetheart. Next time.” He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. I contained my revulsion. He seemed to think this was 1968 and he was Tom Jones.

Not even.

“Izzy,” a voice said from the doorway. “Your sister sent me to find you.”

I looked up, surprised to see Eric. “What? Is something wrong?”

Eric motioned for me to come with him. “I’m not sure. She needs you right away.”

I pulled my hand from the out–of–towner’s grasp. “Got to go. Bye.” I ran out of the store without waiting for his response.

On the street, Eric grabbed my arm and led me in the direction of the restaurant. His face was flushed, as if he’d been running. Or as if his temper was about to blow.

“What’s wrong at the restaurant?” I pulled at his grasp, but he held me tight.

“Nothing. The only thing wrong is you.” He pulled me into a small, tree–covered alley between two buildings.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I jerked free from his grip, my anger pushing forward to meet his.

“About you! Do you know who the hell you were just sharing ice cream with?”

I balled my fists, the temptation to punch him strong. “Yeah, I do. My first suspect in Brian’s murder. What’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? God damn it, Izzy, you’re going to be the death of me.” He ran his fingers into his hair with exasperation.

“Yeah, well, welcome to the club. I’ve been the death of a couple of guys. Get in line.” I sucked in a shocked breath when the words flew from my mouth. Oh, God. I leaned against a tree for support.

Eric wrapped me in an embrace. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear I didn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, pushing him away. “Tell me why you lied about Sellie needing me.”

He let me go reluctantly, then set his fists on his hips as he glanced toward the street. “He’s dangerous, Izzy. I’ve researched him before, in relation to a murder that happened in New Jersey. His name is Francisco Liaci. He’s part of the Mob. Do you hear me, Izzy? I want you to stay away from him.”

My head cleared the minute I heard the word “Mob.” “You mean, he’s organized crime? I thought he might be a shady land developer, not one of those.” Damn. I really was in over my head. This was bigger than I’d thought. Had Brian gotten involved with these people? Had he crossed them and received punishment? Whom had I been sleeping with? I hadn’t really known him at all.

Eric stepped closer, then lifted his hand to caress my cheek. “This is why I need you to let me in, for your own good. I can’t stop you from snooping. But I can hopefully keep you from getting killed in the process.”

I looked up at him, wondering how he’d react if I told him about Finnian, Faeries, and Aunt Mags. I gave him a hard look, but he didn’t move. His dark eyes gazed at me with infinite patience.

I knew he possessed a shadow inside him that I didn’t understand. He was hiding something, just as much as the men from Miami. I’d only known him since Friday. He was a total mystery. Yet I’d known Brian since high school, slept with him, and never realized how little I comprehended him. My head began to spin with confusion. How could I let this man close? No one could be trusted.

The image of Eric holding the toy gun on my attackers flashed in my mind. Maybe I didn’t know his secrets. That was a fact that I couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore. But I did know that he was unique. How many other men would have done what he did? Didn’t that count for something?

“All right,” I said, lifting my gaze to him. “You’ve got a deal. If I let you in, you’ll at least stop getting in my way. But I call the shots. You’re only a sidekick in this investigation. Understood?”

He grinned. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah, you will. I promise that.” I rolled my eyes. What was I getting into? I turned and walked away, then stopped and put my hands on my hips. “Well, hurry up, Robin. To the Batcave.”

“You know, I always did find Batgirl sexy as hell.”

I laughed, but not whole–heartedly. What I saw as we emerged onto the street dimmed my humor. Francisco Liaci stood outside the ice cream store, his “associates” gathered around him. He watched us, his expression grim and calculating. He lit the tip of a cigar, then threw the match into the street.

I turned toward the bay, Eric close behind me. The unrelenting June sun beat down on our heads. All I felt was the cold touch of dread.

CHAPTER NINE

Eric and I reached the house just as Sarabeth arrived for work. I walked to the west side of the building, then turned toward the restaurant entrance. Sarabeth flashed me a smile as she exited her old, dilapidated Buick. The smile vanished when she caught sight of Eric.

“What’s he doin’ here?” she asked, giving him an obstinate look.

“Helping me.” I held up a hand before the torrent of complaints began. “No, don’t start. This is no joke, Sara B. He’s actually proved useful a couple of times.”

Eric stepped forward and put out his hand toward Sarabeth. “I’ve never heard such high praise. Eric Baxter, Ma’am. At your service.”

Sarabeth’s lips curled into a mischevious smile. She took Eric’s hand and held on, her eyelids drifting partially closed as she honed in on him. I thought to reach out and stop her, but then held back. Maybe it was time for a little probing into the man who lived doing the same thing to other people, only with a pen and notepad.

Eric stood straight, his expression as if someone had snuck up behind him and dropped his trousers. He tried to pull away, but Sarabeth held fast, her eyelids fluttering as she delved into him. Finally she let him go, then nodded slowly.

“Watch your step around here, young man. You ain’t as high and mighty as you want to think. You could learn a thing or two. I suggest you do it.” She turned toward me, her expression calm. “He can stay. He ain’t so bad.”

“Okay.” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek, then nuzzled her neck in the teasing way I did when I was a teenager. She laughed, then pushed me away.

“You always were a silly one.” She rubbed her neck, then reached out and touched my cheek. “But I should have known. That’s a trait of a true shaman. The divine silliness. You’re going to be a great one, my girl.” She patted my cheek, then walked into the house, carrying her considerable bulk with evident dignity.

I watched her, wrapped in the love she always gave me. I turned toward Eric, then laughed. He had that “deer in the headlights” look most people wore once they’d been psychically scanned by Sarabeth. Poor guy. I reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice hushed as if we’d walked into a church.

“That, Mr. Baxter, is Sarabeth. More on that later. We need to form a plan, but I have to report for work in twenty minutes. Do you want to stay for lunch?”

“Of couse. Where else do I eat?”

He put his arm around my shoulders in a friendly fashion. It felt far too good to allow. I walked a step ahead of him, allowing it to slip away. “Then get to your table and start making notes, Mr. Crime Writer. You want to help? Start spilling what you know.”

“I might ask the same of you.” He followed me through the door, his steps close behind me.

I chose to ignore his remark. He already knew more than I was comfortable with. I motioned for him to take a seat in the dining hall, then ran upstairs to change into my jeans and work polo.

“Finnian!” I whispered harshly, as soon as I’d shut my bedroom door. “Where are you?”

Finnian jumped down from an invisible ledge, about three feet off the floor. “Where I always am. Right beside you.”

“Oh yeah? Well, why didn’t you warn me about that Francisco guy?”

Finnian sat and lifted a hind leg, then took a cleansing lick. “You didn’t ask me.”

I sat down on the floor beside him. “What? Aren’t you supposed to help me at all times? Tell me what to do?”

Finnian lay on his back and rolled on the carpet, as if I bored him to tears. “I told you, Isuelt. I am not here to make your choices for you. I am not here to impose my will upon you. I am only here to guide, and then only allowed to tell what you need to know. The rest is up to you.”

I lay down on the floor next to him, exhausted. “What a rip. Why is that the rule?”

Finnian turned his starry blue gaze to me. “Because free will reigns before all things in the Universe. If you don’t like it, take it up with the Great All. Not me.”

I sighed, then rolled toward him. “All right. Give me some guidance about this Francisco guy. And about Brian, in relation to him.”

Finnian frowned, his whiskers twitching. “Francisco Liaci has blood on his hands. He is not a man to tempt or play with, Isuelt. Walk carefully in his regard. As for Brian, he desired two things. You, and money. His desire for wealth led him to make unwise choices and grievous mistakes. His involvement with Liaci is the fruit of these.”

“Great. I had no idea Brian was involved in shady dealings. Why didn’t I see it?”

Finnian’s eyes narrowed. “Because your focus was set entirely upon yourself, Isuelt. This did not allow you to see the obvious in him.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “You sure can be insulting.”

“If it is for your good, I can be positively offensive. Want a demonstation?”

I laughed. “No, thanks. I’d like to keep what little self–esteem I have left. This must be the official ‘gang up on Izzy’ day.”

Finnian rested his chin on his paws. “Not at all. It is the official ‘help Izzy to see clearly’ day. At times, that process can be painful.”

I didn’t respond. I lay looking at the ceiling, reviewing all that Finnian shared. Finally I turned toward him.

“Am I on the right track to the murderers? Did Liaci murder Brian?”

Finnian cocked his head in thought. “I do not see that he personally murdered him. But he was involved with Brian, most definitely. Their energies are tied.”

Most likely he had his associates do the dirty work, I thought. He wouldn’t want to get those diamond rings dirty. Anger stirred in my belly at the thought that these men could have played a part in Brian’s death. They walked freely about town while Brian lay cold in the ground. Worst of all, the fact that they hadn’t left town meant they had more nefarious dealings in mind. Liaci said he had other avenues. Like what?

I sat up, done with talking. “Thanks, Finnian. You’ve given me a lot to consider.”

“Do not forget, Isuelt. The murderer thought of Brian in only one way. ‘He has desecrated the shrine.’ Find out what that phrase means, and you will have the killer.”

The shrine. That simply didn’t make sense. Francisco and his crew didn’t look like the spiritual type to me. What did it mean? Was the word “shrine” a code word for something else? How was I going to find out? Maybe Eric had heard the word during one of his investigations. I made a mental note to ask him.

Eric. I turned to Finnian and crossed my arms over my knees. “Eric Baxter is helping me. I agreed to it. Was that a wise decision?”

“Yes and no. Yes, in terms of helping you fulfill your destiny. No, if you are interested in maintaining the status quo of your life.”

I snorted. That was an understatement. “Well, I’m doing what I feel is best. I’m trying to listen to those instincts you talked about.”

Finnian almost smiled, if a cat can smile. “You are doing well in a very short space of time. But there is still much you do not know, Isuelt. You must listen very closely to make up for your lack of knowledge. You must trust without question.”

I stood up, not wanting Finnian to see my reaction to his words. Trust without question? I hadn’t done that since I was nine years old.

“I have to go to work. Thank you, my friend.”

Finnian nodded. “I will come when you call my name.” With that, he faded from sight.

I walked to my closet, my head stuffed with so much information and questions that I could barely think. I grabbed my work clothes, then pulled off my shorts. The faery stone weighed down the pocket, reminding me of its presence.

My instincts said to never let it out of my possession. I pulled on my jeans, then shoved the stone into my left front pocket. I looked up at the ceiling, feeling a bit foolish. “Hey, out there. I’m listening. How about sending me some help?”

Did the Universe hear? I hoped so. I was entering dark water. I wasn’t sure how far I could swim.

By the time I arrived in the dining hall, the buzz of conversation between the customers resembled an attack of killer bees. My fellow waitress, Tammy, ran toward me, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Izzy! Did you hear? They made an arrest in Brian’s murder!”

“What?” I grabbed Tammy’s arm, unsure I’d heard her right.

“Yes, I just heard it from Johnny Marshall.”

“Well, damn, woman, don’t keep me hanging! Who did they arrest?”

Tammy leaned closer to me, as if sharing a secret. “Marty Morrissette.”

My head snapped up so fast, my neck screamed whiplash. “Marty? That’s impossible. He’s harmless!”

Tammy shook her head, her long blonde hair flying. “Nope. He had a fistfight with Brian just a little while before they found his body behind the package store. Marty was drunk as a skunk, they say. Lamont says he heard they were fighting over a woman. Marty said something nasty about some gal Brian was involved with, and they went for it.” Tammy made a “tsk” sound, her eyes downcast. “That Marty. I thought he was a jerk, but I never figured him for a murderer.”

I’d ceased to listen once the words “something nasty about some girl Brian was involved with” flew past me. Oh, God. I let go of Tammy and walked across the restaurant in a daze. Eric rose from his table, concern in his eyes.

“Izzy.” Eric pulled out a chair for me, then pushed my shoulders until my knees bent and I sat. “I see you’ve heard the news.”

“Yes.” The sound of the people around me grew muffled, as if I’d stuck cotton in my ears. “I have to go to the cops. It’s my fault. I knew it. Brian was killed because of me.”

Eric leaned closer. “Going to the police would only draw more attention to you and your family.” He glanced around the room, then sighed. “Idiot police. They’re congratulating themselves on solving the case. They aren’t interested in the fact that Morrissette didn’t do it.”

I snapped out of my daze and turned toward him. “You don’t think he did it?”

Eric sat back in his chair. “No, I don’t.”

I pushed my hair away from my face and sighed. “I don’t know what to think. Marty could have done it, Eric. He had time and he had the motive, based on what Tammy said to me. You were there, you saw what happened. Marty was angry with me for the way I’d put him down at the bar. If he ran into Brian and told him the story, it would be just like Brian to put up his dukes. Fights can lead to death. You should know all about that, Mr. Crime Expert.”

A dark flash of pain hit Eric’s features. He lifted his chin and shrugged it away. “Don’t call me that.” He glanced at me, then flashed an uneasy grin. “I prefer Robin, actually.”

“Yeah, you would.” I stared at him, unsure what I’d seen in his eyes, but I chose to ignore it for now. Marty’s arrest was first on my agenda. “So if Marty didn’t do it, what are we going to do to find the real killer?” I leaned across the table. “You’re right about one thing. The police will be content with this arrest. Harlan will be overjoyed to put this thing behind him. All that leaves is us.”

“Well, first things first. Let’s talk to Morrissette.”

I stood up in surprise. “You think he’s going to want to talk to me?”

Eric grinned. “You bet I do. Particularly when I tell him we’re working to get him out of jail. You’d be surprised how cooperative people become when they’re told that.”

I crossed my arms. “Have you ever made that kind of promise to get information out of people?”

Eric glanced away from me. “I won’t deny it. I’ve helped some people avoid prison. Or made sure they stayed there.”

I nodded, then gave him a smile. “You know, you’re more like Robin the Boy Wonder that I figured.”

He stood next to me, then stepped close. “Not really. I look better in the costume than he does. Want to see? Only a ten minute drive to my place.”

I looked into his eyes. I knew he was teasing, but I also knew he meant it. All I had to do was say the word and we’d–

I tore myself away from the thought. Focus, Izzy. “I’ll pass on the fashion show. But I’ll go for a jailhouse visit, if you will.”

“You’re on.”

*****

As soon as I finished at the M & M, Eric and I drove to the Fort Bedford Jailhouse. It was about one step above the Mayberry Jail on the Andy Griffith Show. I half expected to see Barney Fife whittling sticks on the stoop outside.

Adrian established a few modern improvements in his short tenure as Chief, but Harlan had apparently let things slide back to their original condition. The new computers sat gathering dust while the ten cops on the force kept paper records haphazardly strewn across their desks. All necessary organization fell on the petite shoulders of Miss Daisy Beltrane, the snow–haired woman who’d worked as clerk of the jailhouse for fifty–seven years. I took one look around the dusty, gray room filled with dilapidated cublices and wondered how Adrian had been able to bear it.

Eric approached Daisy, his best Yankee manners in place. “Excuse me, Ma‘am. We’d like to visit Marty Morrissette.”

Daisy looked at Eric over the edge of her reading glasses. “You his attorney?”

“No, Ma’am. I’m a writer, researching a case. We’d appreciate it if you’d allow us to see Mr. Morrissette.”

“If you ain’t his attorney, you ain’t gettin’ in.” With that, Daisy returned to typing on her rusty blue Royal typewriter. Tap. Tap. Tap.

I pushed Eric aside. “Why, Miss Daisy, it’s good to see you!”

Daisy’s face lit up when she saw me. “Aw, now, if it ain’t my Izzy. How you doin’, sugar? I miss your Granny so much. I think about her every day.”

I knelt down beside Miss Daisy and took her thin, arthritic hand in mine. “I do, too. I miss her.” I rubbed the knotted knuckles on her left hand. “Are you still using the salve Granny taught you to make for your hands?”

She grinned. “You bet I do. Won’t ever tell the secret, either. Keeps my fingers nimble. See?” She flexed her right hand, then wiggled the fingers like a concert pianist.

I laughed. Miss Daisy had been one of my grandmother’s most ardent supporters. In secret, of course. It wouldn’t do for the clerk of the jailhouse to be seen in the company of the town witch, Anna MacPherson. Granny understood, even though it pained her to keep her friendships secret.

Time for a little payback. “Miss Daisy, Mr. Baxter and I need to speak to Marty as soon as we can. I know you don’t know him, but I can vouch for him. Please, will you help us?”

Daisy gave Eric a sharp look, then turned to me. “Well, if you vouch for him, I guess it’s all right. C’mon.” She grabbed the ring of keys to the cells, then led us toward the back door of the room.

I looked at Eric and smiled as wide as I could. He shook his head, then gave me a little bow of respect.

“I told you I was in charge,” I whispered to him.

“For now,” he whispered back.

Daisy led us down a long, gray hallway. The cells stood empty, the bare, blue–striped mattresses resting on their steel cots. At the end of the hall lay the only inhabitant of the jail. Daisy clanged the keys on the metal bars, awakening him.

“Get up, Marty! You got visitors.” She turned to Eric, her mouth curled in disdain. “Fifteen minutes.” Then she turned to me, all smiles. “You come see me again now, you hear?”

“I will.” I gave her a firm hug. She walked down the hall, then shut the entrance door behind her. I heard the key turn in the door with a metallic click, then stifled a shiver. I walked with Eric toward the cell.

Marty lay on the cot with his arm thrown over his eyes. He hadn’t moved, despite Daisy’s noisy interruption of his beauty sleep. Dirty, disshelved, and definitely not the chick magnet he liked to think he was, he rolled onto his side.

“Go ‘way,” he growled.

I cleared my throat, then reached out to grasp one of the bars. “Marty, it’s me. Izzy.”

His head lifted as one bleary eye peeked from under his shaggy hair. In an instant, he was out of his bed and at the bars. I jumped back before his hand made contact with my shoulder.

“Damn you! You’re the reason I’m in here, you bitch!” He made another grab for me, his eyes wild.

I pressed my back against the hallway wall, surprise cutting my breath. Eric moved toward him, but I shook my head and lifted my chin.

“No. You’re in jail because you’re stupid and pick fights in the wrong places. But we’re here to get you out.”

Marty’s eyes cut to Eric, then narrowed. “Who’s he? One of your boyfriends?”

I took a tentative step toward the bars. “He’s a crime novelist. He knows a lot about these kinds of cases. He doesn’t think you killed Brian, Marty. Neither do I.”

Marty arm hung limp over the crossbar as he heaved a sigh. “You guys are the only ones. I’m cooked. Harlan’s already got me drawn and quartered. They assigned me some public defender. No sign of him yet. I’m gonna rot in prison forever.” He laid his forehead on the bars, tears in his eyes. I stepped forward and laid my hand over his.

“We’re going to get you out, Marty. But we need your help. Will you talk to us, answer some questions?”

“Yeah, sure.” He shook his head slowly. “I’ve got nothin’ but time.” He walked away from us, then sat on the edge of the bed.

Eric moved closer and leaned on the bars. “Tell us what happened the night Brian was killed, after you left the bar.”

“I was pretty liquored up. I’d been drinking before I got to Casey’s, then topped it off with a few more beers.” Marty glanced at me through his stringy hair. “Sorry about the butt slap, Iz.” Then he grinned, a bit of life returning to his eyes. “But you do have a mighty fine ass.”

I snorted. “Gee, thanks. Continue.”

“Well, I took off after you set me straight. I was pretty mad. You made a fool of me in front of my friends.” He glanced away, then looked at the floor. “I guess I was the one who made me the fool. Anyway, I decided I wasn’t done drinking. I took off for the package store down the road to get a fresh bottle of Southern Comfort. As soon as I walked in the place, I saw Brian.”

Eric reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his blue notebook and pen. “What was he doing at the time?”

“Had some fancy–ass bottle of champagne, bragging about some chick he was taking to Mobile for a hot time. Lots of big talk. Said he had some kind of deal coming that was going to make him rich. Like he wasn’t already, being one of those God–damned Millers.” Marty’s hands curled into fists. “I’ve always hated Brian. I won’t deny it. He’s been pushing my face in the dirt since we were five years old. His whole family, a bunch of stuck–up sons of bitches. Think they’re better than the rest of us because we’re sharecroppers, while they have the big spread and all the dough.”

“Go on,” Eric said, busily writing in his book. I looked over his shoulder at the notes, but I couldn’t read his scribble.

“Well, I walked in and he gives this big laugh. Whatsa matter, Marty, he says. You look like you lost your best friend, if you had one. He really thought that was funny. That’s when I said–“ He glanced at me, then cleared his throat. “I said I’d just had a run in with one of the MacPherson witches. The young one, Izzy. I said some things I shouldn’t have. Stuff like what I’d do to you if I got you alone in my car. Teach you a lesson, put you in your place, stupid stuff like that. God, I’m sorry, Izzy.”

My stomach heaved as the violent image he’d painted flashed through my mind, but I held back my reaction. “You didn’t mean it. Tell us what happened next.”

Eric’s hand tightened around the pencil hard enough to snap the wood, but he didn’t lift his head. I had the sense he held himself in check by sheer force of will.

Marty shook his head. “Brian went nuts on me. He came out swinging before I could spit. We cleared the place, rolling on the floor in front of the cash register while we bashed each other’s faces. Norma yelled she was calling the cops. Brian stopped when he heard that, then grabbed his bottle of champagne and left. I ran out the door and jumped in my car and took off. I was way too drunk to face one of the cops that night. I went home and passed out. I woke up about noon the next day. That’s when I heard Brian was dead.” He looked up at me and lifted his palms. “That’s all I know, Iz. I swear. I didn’t do it.”

“Why didn’t you go to the cops and tell them this? Why did you wait? Don’t you see how bad that looked?”

Marty shrugged. “I didn’t think it mattered. I mean, we had a fight. I get into fights all the time. No one cares.”

“They do when the other person winds up dead,” Eric said, finally looking at Marty.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He turned his gaze to Eric, his eyes brightening. “You gonna get me a better attorney? You must have some cash, being a writer and all. Might be some good publicity stuff in it for you.”

“Don’t get started,” I said, pushing away from the bars. “All I can tell you is that we don’t want the wrong person prosecuted for Brian’s death. It has nothing to do with you, Marty. It has to do with justice.”

“If justice gets me out of here, I’m all for it.”

The hallway door opened with a harsh creak. “Fifteen minutes are up!” Daisy’s gravely voice echoed in the empty cells like a Valkyrie’s call.

“We’ll be in touch,” I said, taking Eric by the arm.

Marty rushed to the bars, watching us leave. “Come back, Iz. I need your help. I’m sorry about all the shit I said about you, you know? Sorry, okay? Can you pay my bail? Izzy?”

I kept moving, the desire to be away from Marty stronger than it had ever been in my life. While he may not deserve to be in jail for Brian’s murder, he deserved it on so many other levels. I held my breath, willing my emotions to calm.

I relaxed at last when Daisy locked the door and pocketed the keys. I leaned down to hug her, then bid her goodbye.

“You two come by again. I’ll be here.” She picked up her knitting needles and resumed work on a pink and green afghan as we left the building.

I stopped at the edge of the curb, then drew in a huge cleansing breath. I hugged my arms across my chest as I sought to shake off the dull, negative energy of the jail, as well as the violation of Marty’s words. Why did I bring that emotion out in men? The urge to conquer me, teach me a lesson? What did I do to inspire such violence? Was I too sexual, too bold, too knowing, too–

“Stop it, Izzy.”

I felt Eric’s arms move to embrace me from behind. I resisted the urge to sink into them, to hide myself in their safety.

“Stop what?”

“Stop standing there thinking you deserve what Morrissette said. No one does. But most of all, not you.”

I turned my face into the curve of his jaw, allowing myself to sigh. “How do you know that was what I thought?”

He leaned in, nuzzling my neck. “I know you. At least, I’m beginning to. I’d like to know more.”

I lifted my hand and caressed his cheek. “Maybe. That’s all I can give you now, Eric.”

He kissed my earlobe. “I’ll take it. I’m endlessly patient.”

I pulled away from his arms, gathering my wits as best I could. “We’ll see about that. Meanwhile, what do we do next?”

“Let’s return to the batcave and go over my notes. You may know some things you aren’t consciously aware of. “

I didn’t think that was likely, but I agreed.

Within a few minutes, we were seated in the empty restaurant, Eric’s blue notebook open and fresh sheets of paper spread in front of him. I leaned my chin on my fist and watched as he pulled a pair of gold–rimmed glasses out of a brown leather case, then perched them on his nose. He glanced up at me, then shrugged.

“Contacts were bothering me. Hey, I’m far–sighted. Sorry to damage the superhero image.”

“I wasn’t complaining. They suit you. Gives you that Sherlock Holmes kind of look.”

He smiled and leaned over the papers. “Now I know the way to your heart. Put on the skinny British intellectual façade.”

I glanced at the solid, muscular build of his body and remembered the feel of it pressed against mine on the beach. “Sorry. That’s not the image you project. You remind me more of a horny college professor.”

He laughed out loud. “Really? How many of those have you known?”

I pushed away from the table. “None. That’s not the crowd I hang out with, of which I’m sure you’re aware. For your information, despite the rumors around town, I’ve slept with far fewer men than reported. None of them with doctorates.”

He smiled, then reached across the table to take my hand. “That wasn’t what I meant. I was kidding.”

I put my hand over his and took a breath. “Sorry. I’m a bit sensitive after Marty, I guess. Let’s look at your questions. Ask away, Sherlock.”

He pulled back and gathered his papers. “Okay. Marty had motive, a long–standing feud with Brian, a public brawl with him just before the murder, and plenty of time in which his whereabouts after the fight can’t be substantiated. On the face of it, I don’t blame Harlan for arresting him.”

I sighed, tracing the little wet circle on the table from beneath my ice tea glass. “I don’t blame him, either. All signs point to Marty as the most likely suspect. But then again, there’s Liaci to think about.”

Eric rifled through his papers, then adjusted his glasses. “Liaci and Brian apparently had some kind of financial deal between them, based on what you gathered from your talk with him. We aren’t sure what it is, but it wasn’t on the up and up. But why would Liaci kill Brian? Wouldn’t that close off any chance of getting what he wanted out of him?”

“Possibly. Unless Brian did something stupid and made them think that killing him was the better choice, to protect themselves. I have to admit that Brian wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Not that I should talk.”

“Cut it out,” Eric said, looking at me over his glasses. “Any more discussion like that about yourself and I may have to take you over my knee.”

I laughed at his strern look. “Oooh. Is that a promise?”

He took off his glasses and leaned over the table, all teasing vanished. His eyes grew dark, like cinnamon over a flame. “I’ll give you anything you want, Izzy. Just say the words. You know the ones I mean. Say them, and I’m there.”

I swallowed hard, then sat back in my chair. Was I ready to say those words? I want you, Eric? I did want him. More and more, with every minute I spent with him. But I–

“Yoo hoo! Izzy, I’m so glad I found you!”

I turned in my seat to see my sister’s best friend, Janell, rushing toward me. She rented the rooms next to the restaurant for her artist endeavor, Southern Skies Studio. Selene loved her with a loyalty stronger than stone. Me? I could barely handle being in the same room with her. She was a walking, talking, giggling, ruffles and lace nightmare. Pittypat Hamilton on cocaine, complete with springy blonde curls.

She hugged me tight, then patted me on both shoulders. “Are you ready for tonight? It’s going to be such fun!”

“Tonight?” My brain refused to dredge up any memory beyond the last five minutes.

Janell laughed, waving her hands. “Oh, you silly thing! You know, Selene and Adrian’s engagement party! At the Mariner Seahouse tonight! Remember, you were supposed to chauffer them there? Oh you, pretending not to remember! You’re just trying to make me crazy.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just pulling your leg.” I’d completely forgotten about everything to do with the party. “Um, I need to get them there by six, right?”

“No, no! Too early. By seven will be perfect.” Janell turned her gaze to Eric, her eyebrows lifting. She warmed considerably, shifting her little girl act to sultry temptress within seconds. “Well, hello. Who are you, handsome?”

My claws sprang to life at the sound of her purring voice, but I refrained from shedding blood. “This is Eric Baxter. He’s in town for the summer for, um, a work project.”

Janell walked toward him, trailing little rows of fire beneath her stiletto heels. “Why haven’t I seen you around? I’ve been working too hard, it seems. I would never forgive myself if I missed a lovely man like you.”

Eric grinned, his eyes wide as she reached to caress his shoulder.

My slow burn turned up a notch to at least medium flame. “Janell, is there anything else you wanted?”

“Well, it’s impolite to talk about a party in front of someone not invited. So we’ll just have to invite Mr. Baxter, won’t we? You will come, yes?” Janell ran her palm across his shoulder invitingly.

Eric looked up at her and grinned. “Thank you for asking me. I was just about to request that Izzy allow me to escort her to this shindig. Now you’ve done it for me. How about it, Iz? Would you like to have me as your date?”

I glared at them both, but pride wouldn’t allow me any other escape. “Of course I would. Thanks, Janell.”

Janell’s palms slipped from his shoulders as if he’d become an ice sculpture. “Well, fine. Isn’t this pleasant? See you both tonight. Oh, Izzy, make sure you wear something, well, you know. Appropriate for a nice party. Okay?”

I smiled, refusing to allow her dig to rile me. “I’m sure I can come up with something both classy and hardcore by this evening, Janell. Thanks for caring.”

“Um. Yes. Well, got to run.” With that, Janell beat a fast exit from the restauarant.

Eric watched her go, then turned toward me. “Janell. The woman who wound up accidentally dating the Missing Fingers murderer. Right?”

I grinned, then took a sip of my tea. “Yup. And she was after you like white on rice. Doesn’t that make you feel special?”

“No. It makes me wonder if I shouldn’t grow a mustache or something. Anything to not be her type.”

I set my glass on the table. “Don’t change a thing. You’re good, just the way you are.”

“I may remind you of that later.”

“Feel free.” I stood up, then turned toward him. “Hey, my first date with a real, bonafide writer. Wow. I’ll have to pull out all the stops to look–what did she say–appropriate? ”

“You could arrive wrapped in a beach towel and you’d be the most beautiful woman there.”

I smiled, embarrassed by his compliment. His simple statements held more power than any of the over–the–top things other men had said to me. I wondered why, but didn’t want to look at the question too closely.

He gathered his papers, shoving them into a folder. “Enough work. Tonight, play. Let’s have fun, Iz. I’ll be here a little before seven. All right?”

“Okay,” I replied. I pushed down the urge to throw myself on him. Instead, I walked across the room to the family side of the house, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other without falling.

Yeah, Eric was good. Very good. If I didn’t watch myself, I’d wind up in more trouble than I dreamed.

CHAPTER TEN

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

I opened the kitchen door to allow Eric inside, then glanced at my watch. “Actually, you’re a bit early. Selene and Adrian are almost ready.”

Eric turned toward me. His gaze traveled from my black strappy sandals to the tips of my hair, then he whistled appreciatively. In that moment, I’d never felt more beautiful.

“So what do you think? Do I pass as appropriate?” I stepped back and took a little twirl. For the first time in ages, I wore a real dress. Clingy jersey in a wrap–style, with long sleeves and a handkerchief hem, splashed with the warm colors of russet, brown, and gold. I’d seen it in the JC Penney window downtown during my murder suspect hunt. On impulse, I’d returned to the store and bought it, spending three day’s worth of tips. The look in Eric’s eyes told me I’d made a wise investment.

“You’re amazing,” he said, his voice hushed as he moved closer. He bent to my ear, the heat of his body caressing me. “Makes me want to skip the party altogether. A dress like that deserves the royal treatment.”

The nearness of his cheek to mine was intoxicating, and yet our bodies didn’t touch. The erotic potency of our energies, mixing and blending, made my head swim. I’d never known anyone like him, a man who could stir me simply by being present. I turned my head slightly toward him. “We miss this party and we’ll get the royal treatment, all right. Off with their heads, courtesy of Selene. I’d like to keep mine attached, thank you.”

His lips touched the fine hairs at my temple as he lifted his head. I shivered, the slight contact enough to ignite a fire in my belly.

“Understandable. However, since this is our first date, I hope you’ll consider continuing it beyond the formal party. How does that sound?”

“It sounds good,” I whispered. What was I agreeing to? Did I care at this point?

His lips finally closed in. He kissed my temple with such infinite gentleness that I thought I might melt into lava on the spot. I closed my eyes and relaxed my body, moving that last inch to connect with his. Oh, bliss. I lifted my hands to his arms, caressing the smooth fabric of his suit jacket. His hands slid behind me, cupping the small of my back, pressing me closer.

“Eric,” I murmured. I lifted my face to his.

An upstairs door slammed, shaking the house with its force. “Izzy! I can’t find my black sandals! Did you borrow them again?”

I pulled away from Eric, blinking a couple of times to clear the romantic fog around me. Selene’s bare feet padded with frustration up and down the upper hallway. I could picture the smoke pouring out of her ears. She detested being late. It always threw her into a tizzy.

“No, I didn’t!” I yelled back at her. “Have you looked in Steph’s room? She likes those shoes, too!”

“I wish you girls would leave my stuff alone!” The sound of her pounding feet headed toward my niece’s room. Good thing Sarabeth and Mags had taken Steph and her sister to the restaurant an hour ago to finish decorating. She’d miss the lecture on respecting other people’s property. Not that she hadn’t heard it many times before.

I turned toward Eric and shrugged. “Sorry. Sisters.”

He grinned and nodded. “Don’t worry. I have three of them. I’m the youngest and the only boy. I’ve seen it all.”

“Not a virgin to the ways of women, huh?” I meant that in a sisterly sense, then sucked in a breath when I realized how it could be taken.

He stepped closer, his eyebrow lifted. “No. Definitely not a virgin. I might actually have some new things to show you, if you’re interested.”

I swallowed and forced a confident, teasing smile. “You’re talking about makeup and hair curlers, right?”

He didn’t move. Instead, it was as if his essence reached out to touch me, to draw me into his power. “Definitely not.”

“Oh.” I looked into his eyes, feeling like a fourteen–year–old freshman face to face with the senior captain of the football team. There was only one word to say. Wow.

“I found them! I’ll be downstairs in just a minute!” Selene’s steps sounded lighter as she sped her way back to her room.

I tried to respond, but my throat ran dry. I could only look at Eric and wish we were anywhere else in the world but in the middle of my family’s kitchen.

“Later,” he whispered.

I nodded, unable to do anything else.

Adrian stepped into the kitchen. “You must be Eric Baxter. Izzy’s told us about you.” He put out his hand to greet Eric. I recognized the analyzing, curious expression on Adrian’s face. The scene reminded me of a giant stag as he faced the younger buck who dared to enter the forest clearing. Eric put out his hand in response. I watched the two of them gauge each other’s strength and virility under the guise of polite etiquette.

Finally, Adrian released him, apparently satisfied with the newcomer. “So, you’re Izzy’s date? That’s an interesting change of events.”

Eric nodded and allowed himself a slight laugh. “Izzy and I got off on the wrong foot at the beginning. We’ve chosen to resolve our differences.”

Talk about an understatement. I’d been fantasizing about Eric making love to me on the kitchen counter, our bodies slick with sweat, the water from the faucet pouring over our shoulders. I nodded and smiled, hoping Adrian couldn’t guess the train of my thoughts.

I cleared my throat, struggling for a bit of self–control. “Are you guys ready to go? Eric’s offered to take us in his car. Nice rental job, not like my little junker. A nice color, too.” God, I was rambling. If only we could get on the road, so I could pull myself together before facing all those premarital well–wishers.

“Selene’s making a last minute adjustment. She’s–well, there she is. You look beautiful, my love.”

Selene entered the kitchen, a vision in lilac and white. Her gray eyes shone with happiness, her long dark hair piled high on her head in a loose array of curls. She reminded me of a Goddess of Spring, rich with youth and joy. I smiled, glad for this moment in the sun for her and Adrian. They’d survived the worst and triumphed. Now they were joining their lives together. A reason to celebrate if I’d even seen one.

“That’s it, then,” I said, looping my arm through Eric’s. “Let’s party down!”

Selene looked into Adrian’s eyes and smiled. “Our whole life is a party.” Then she turned to me with an impish look. “But I could use a few dozen pina coladas!”

I laughed. “That’s the sister I know and love. On to the Batmobile!”

Adrian gave me a strange look. “The what?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” I replied, dragging Eric out the back door. Tonight belonged to the joys of this world. Not murder investigations, out of town gangsters, and shady deals.

I studied Eric as he opened the car door for Selene and Adrian. I loved the way he moved. Confidence poured from him, whether he wore a silk suit or a pair of jeans. The red of sunset on his thick, dark hair, the strong angles of his face, the firm shape of his palms, his lean artist’s fingers–everything about him drew me, as if I’d fallen under a spell.

Maybe tonight wasn’t only about the joys of this world. The joys of the flesh beaconed as well. I put my hand over my belly. A blossoming need for Eric that I couldn’t contain unfurled inside me, pulling me down into a vortex that held no pain, only pleasure. The country song I’d heard on the radio on the way to Selene’s suddenly made perfect sense. “I may hate myself in the morning, but I’m gonna love you tonight.”

Oh, yeah.

“Izzy? Coming?”

I snapped out of my daze. Eric stood waiting for me, the passenger door open. The smile on his face hinted that he knew what I’d been thinking.

I lifted my chin and returned his smile. Let him see. I brushed past him, allowing my hand to slip across his chest seductively, then I slid into my seat.

He stood a moment, watching me with a hot, determined gaze, until at last he closed the door. He’d gotten the message.

I wasn’t sure I was ready to deliver. But it was too late to stop now.

*****

While Janell would never go down in my book as one of my favorite people, I had to hand it to her. She’d pulled out all the stops for this party and put every artistic talent in her possession into action. The Mariner Seahouse, the oldest, most formal restaurant in Fort Bedford, shimmered like a fairytale kingdom. Tiny white lights lost in gauzy clouds hung suspended from the ceiling, while long strings of gold stars swung in the slight breeze of the opening and closing doors. The tables were covered with pristine white tablecloths, a gold–edged mirror at the center of each one. The mirrors reflected the gold and white candles scattered across their faces, reflecting the light like moonlit water. Perfection. Classy, yet whimsical. A lot like Selene, in fact. My respect for Janell inched up a notch. Even I couldn’t ignore the palatable love she felt for my sister, present in every corner of the room.

Selene clasped her hands together when she saw the restaurant. “Oh, Adrian.” She took his hand, then lay one palm on her chest, overwhelmed.

“Selene!” Janell rushed up the silver–blue carpeted steps to throw her arms around my sister. “Welcome to your party!” She turned and gave Adrian the same treatment, then turned toward the crowd.

“Attention, everyone! The couple of honor has arrived!”

Everyone began applauding as Janell led them down the steps and into the dining area. I gripped Eric’s arm a little tighter as I watched Selene walk into what she deserved–the respect, honor, and love of the people in her life. Odette wiped away tears as she rushed forward to hug Selene, trailed by her husband, Lamont. Harlan, Johnny Marshall, and Bubba stood off to the side, looking like proud papas. Even Arnold James was there, along with his new girlfriend, Odette’s daughter, Missy. Once my sister’s greatest detractor, he’d changed after the death of his son. Selene’s part in stopping his son’s murderer last summer finally opened his mind to see beyond our family reputation as those “MacPherson Witches.” He began to see us, and others, in a new light. He’d been healed, even though he’d caused a lot of pain beforehand. Everyone could change.

Maybe even me. I looked up at Eric, wondering if I could break free from the way I’d lived since my parents died. To give up the fear, to allow myself to trust. Eric turned toward me, then put his arm around my waist and hugged me against him. I smiled, returning the gesture. For one night, I could try.

I scanned the room, amazed by how many of the locals were present. Janell invited everyone in town. She’d pay for this shindig until she hit retirement. But it was her moment of glory as the grandest hostess Fort Bedford had ever seen. People would be talking about this night for years. Near the bar, I saw a few of Sean’s old friends. I hadn’t spoken with many of them since his funeral. Continuing our friendship held too much pain for all of us, and we’d drifted apart. Becca stood near them, drinking something red and sparkly with a straw. With her dark hair pulled into a high ponytail and her black blouse and pants draped around her like a goth wannabe, she exuded an image totally unlike the sweet, natural, blue–jeaned girl I knew. Maybe the full moon, huge and white in the sky, pushed all of us to step outside our boundaries tonight.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Eric. He nodded, then followed Selene and Adrian as they made their way through the crowd. I walked across the room until I reached Becca, then tapped her on the shoulder.

“Becca?”

She turned toward me, her kohl–rimmed eyes distant and cold. Then she smiled, her face shifting into a smile. “Izzy! I knew you’d be here. I wouldn’t have come otherwise. Isn’t it a great party?”

“It really is. Hey, big change from your usual look.” I couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong, that it wasn’t like her to “go urban” this way. But maybe she was tired of looking like Fanny Farmer. I couldn’t blame her. I knew what it was like to dress in a way others expected, rather than how I really felt. I was always in one uniform or another, or naked in my bed. Tonight was the first night in ages I’d worn something because I’d chosen it. A small corner of my mind jumped on that thought, signaling me that it was important. I shook my head and refocused on Becca.

Becca lifted one black stiletto heel, then gazed at it with admiration. “Yeah. I feel like I’m different now, you know? It’s time for me to take charge.”

I put an arm around her and gave her a hug. “Absolutely. Is your Mom here?”

An angry look crossed her face. “No. I’m glad she isn’t. We haven’t been getting along. She’s always in my way.”

“In your way? What do you mean?” It definitely wasn’t like Becca to speak of her mother as if she was the enemy. They’d been completely inseparable since Sean’s death, drawing love and strength from each other. Unease shivered through me. I’d put off going to the farm too long. Something was definitely wrong, and I’d been too busy to see it. Sean wouldn’t have liked that.

“She’s…oh, never mind. I don’t want to think about her now.” She turned to me, her gaze sharp. “What about you? You catching up in the man department? I’ll bet you are.”

The abruptness of her question took me aback. “No, I’m not. I do have a date, but it’s with a friend. What’s wrong, Becca? Something’s the matter. I can feel it.”

Becca closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The energy around us sucked toward her, as if she were a whirlpool. I looked around, panicked by the pulling sensation prickling my skin. No one else seemed to notice. Finally she opened her eyes, then gave me a bright smile.

“I’m perfectly fine. Nice to see you, Izzy. If you’ll excuse me.” With that, she picked up her drink and left, walking toward another group of Sean’s former pals near the French doors at the rear of the restaurant.

“Hey, are you all right?” Eric walked behind me and put a hand on my back.

“I think so,” I replied, my gaze still locked on Becca. What was going on? “I’m worried about a friend of mine. That’s all. She isn’t acting like herself lately.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Everyone should have the chance to change.”

I turned toward him and smiled. “You’re right. That includes me, too, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, then moved a bit closer. “I hope so. Especially in regards to me.”

I looked at him through my lashes. “Oh, I think I’ve changed my view of you. Surely you’ve noticed.”

“I’d hoped, but wasn’t sure. How about we–“

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen! It’s time that we toast the happy couple!” Janell stood at the top of the stairs with Selene and Adrian a bit below her. She lifted her glass of champagne high. “To Selene and Adrian, two people to whom we owe so much, and whom we love with all our hearts. May your life together be filled with happiness and blessings! To you!” She lifted her glass to her lips as everyone in the room echoed the words “to you” and did the same. I lifted my glass high, my eyes filled with tears at the look of joy on my sister’s face. Adrian beamed, his arms tight around her. Nothing could spoil this night.

Until Francisco Liaci walked into the room.

He strode to a corner table, then sat down. Despite the “no smoking”signs all around, he pulled out a slim cigarette from a gold case, then lit up. I pulled on Eric’s sleeve, then pointed in his direction.

“What’s he doing here? It’s a private party. I’m pretty sure Janell doesn’t know him, unless he’s made her acquaintance and dazzled her with his charm.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time she overlooked the important things in a person,” Eric replied.

I nodded. “Yeah. Things like honesty, truthfulness, and the lack of previous criminal activity?”

“Exactly. I’ll go talk to him.”

“No, you won’t,” I said, grabbing his suit by the lapels. “You said already that you’ve investigated him before. Don’t you think he’d recognize you if you got too close? He knows me. He thinks I’m the town bimbo. I’m the wiser choice.”

Eric frowned and took my arm in his hand. “I don’t want you anywhere within a hundred yards of that guy. He’s an animal, Izzy. He wouldn’t think twice about hurting you to get what he wants. If you stir up his suspicions, it could be dangerous.”

I shook off Eric’s hand. “It’s already dangerous, from the minute we decided to get involved finding Brian’s killer. I told you, I’d let you help me, but not call the shots. I’m going to talk to him. Be my backup, Eric, not my keeper.”

He stared at me, his lips thinned with frustration. He glanced at Liaci, then back at me. “Fine. But the minute things go wrong, I’m taking you out of here. Thrown over my shoulder if necessary.”

I patted his cheek. “You’re such a caveman. Here I go.”

I walked across the restaurant, taking deep breaths to calm my anxiety. Liaci, here? What did he have up his sleeve? The thought that he could be behind Brian’s death, then come to a party surrounded by his friends, galled me enough to steel my nerves. I reached into my evening bag and pulled out my pack of ciggies. Nothing like a little mutual addiction to get things moving.

I stopped just behind his chair. He bent over the table, taking a long drag of his cigarette. The rich smoke encircled his head, the scent foreign and expensive. I cocked my right elbow on the wrist of my bent left arm, taking the classic stance. “Got a light?”

He turned, the annoyance on his face evaporating when he caught sight of me. “Well, well. The Queen Bee returns. You know where the honey is, don’t you, babe?”

I smiled, trying not to gag at his lame line. “You bet I do. But right now, I’d like a cigarette.” I glanced around, then gave him another sexy grin. “This place will go ballistic if they catch us enjoying our coffin nails. Let’s go out on the veranda, shall we?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He rose from the table, then put out his hand to allow me to lead the way. My skin crawled at the thought of being alone with him, but I sensed he wouldn’t talk unless he felt safe. I posed no threat, and his attraction to me was clear. A little buttering up of his ego might loosen his lips.

I opened the gold handle to the French doors leading to the bayside veranda. The full moon over the water took my breath away, but I pushed aside my enjoyment. Taking this chance with Liaci was strictly business. Perilous business, if I didn’t watch my every word. The energy emanating from the man was sharp, cutting, as if he spent his life on the razor’s edge. I imagined he did. The things Eric told me about him echoed in my head, increasing my fear. I couldn’t fail this conversation. Too much was riding on it. I walked to the railing of the veranda, then turned and lifted my cigarette.

“I’m waiting.”

Liaci fumbled in his pockets, then drew out a gold lighter. “You’re something else, you know that?”

I drew in a lungful of smoke, then blew it out slowly and seductively before answering. “Yes. I do know.”

Liaci laughed, then crossed his arms on the railing and leaned closer. “That’s what I like. A woman without any airs. She says what she wants and does what she pleases. That’s you, isn’t it, baby.”

I leaned on the veranda next to him. My mind churned, trying to grasp the right phrases. “Yeah, it is. Not that anyone in this town appreciates it.”

He gazed out over the water, his chin set. “This town isn’t so bad.”

I laughed. “Oh, yeah? What keeps you here? The exciting night life?”

He laughed. “Not exactly. I came here to complete a business deal, but it appears that deal has fallen through. I’m here for other reasons, now. Trying to make up for my losses.”

Something told me to jump into the deep water. I tossed my cigarette into the bay, the slight sizzle of its extinguishing barely audible over the muffled sounds of the party behind us. “Making up for losses, huh? You mean, since Brian Miller is dead?

Liaci stiffened beside me, then stood straight. “What do you know about Brian Miller?”

I remained in my relaxed pose, even though every bone in my body screamed for me to flee. “I know he’s dead. I know he was a friend of mine. And I know you’re the only one who knows what he’s been up to in Miami. I want you to tell me.”

“Really. And why would I do that?”

I stood and faced Liaci. “Because it’s the only way you’ll convince me you’re not his murderer.”

He stared at me, the fury on his face so vivid I thought I’d be slain by the force of his thoughts alone. I half expected him to call to his cronies and order me to be fitted with some cement shoes. God, I hoped Eric had that fake gun with him. Only the presence of the other partygoers kept my feet rooted to the spot and my gaze steady on Liaci.

“Look, Queen Bee. I don’t owe you anything. In fact, I’ve killed people for less insult that this. I assume you know that.”

I nodded, but didn’t lower my gaze. My stomach felt as if it imploded, but I held onto the veranda railing.

He breathed a huge sigh, then his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “You’re her, aren’t you. The chick Brian talked about. The one he was banging every night.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, hiding the cringe his words created in me. Was that all I’d been? He’d certainly been that for me, all the way through. God.

“Figures. I’ll tell you this. Your boyfriend made some very serious mistakes with some friends of mine. Very poor gambling bets. By the time he came to my attention, he owed my associate seventy–five thousand dollars. Then he said he had no way to pay. Very poor judgment on his part.”

Seventy–five thousand? Brian earned only a portion of that in a year at his job at the feed store. What was he thinking, taking that kind of risk? I made no response, hoping that Liaci would keep spilling his guts.

“Stupid kid. He said his family had a huge holding of land down here, and that he’d get them to sell it off to pay his debt. They refused. Very, very poor turn of events for him. He assured us he’d find another way to pay.” Liaci laughed, gripping the veranda railing as he looked out over the water. “He only wanted two things. Get rich quick, and you. Looks like he wasn’t too good at the first.”

“Did you have him killed?” The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I froze, awaiting Liaci’s reaction.

His laugh surprised me. “You’re a mouthy little bitch, aren’t you? Of course we didn’t kill him. A dead man can’t deliver the cash. We decided to put him to work for us, to pay off what he owed. A little drug running, using that shabby feed store as a holding station. Fort Bedford is right off IH 10. The police force here is a joke. The perfect situation for us. Then Miller wound up dead. Damn it.” Liaci pounded the railing, rattling the light fixtures that ringed the porch. “But not all is lost.”

“What do you mean? If Brian’s dead, it’s over, isn’t it?”

Liaci smiled, a grin so evil I took a step back. “We’ve decided to not let the discovery of this place go to waste. I’m looking for a new location for the holding station. My associates and I have decided to extend our vacation indefinitely.” He moved closer to me, slipping one beefy hand around my waist. “Hey. Since Brian can’t pay me what he owes, maybe I’ll pick up where he left off with you. Take about seventy–five thousand worth of pleasure from your hide instead.” He pressed me against his chest, hard enough so that I could feel the gun in his upper pocket. He nodded at my indrawn breath. “Good. I see you understand the situation. I–“

“Oh, Izzy, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

I cut my gaze toward the door, where Aunt Mags stood. I put my palm toward her, warning her to go away. She ignored me, her eyes on the full moon instead.

“Isn’t that moon spectacular? Selene’s looking for you, they’re getting ready to open the engagement presents and she needs you to write down the gift list. Well, hello, who is this?”

Liaci dropped his hand from me and turned toward my aunt, all gallantry and Old World manners. “I’ve newly arrived in town, ma’am. I’m looking forward to settling here.”

Mags smiled, but her bright face faded as she neared Liaci. “No. I don’t think that’s the case at all.” Her brows gathered over cautious eyes. “Isuelt, come with me. Right now.” She put her hand toward me, never taking her gaze from Liaci.

Liaci grabbed my wrist. “I don’t think she wants to leave right now. We were having an important conversation.”

Mags lifted her chin, unperturbed. “She’s my niece. I don’t give a flying fig what you were talking about, she’s coming with me.” Mags took my other wrist, pulling me to her side.

Liaci’s face turned red. “Don’t make me hur–“

Suddenly the sound of exploding glass shattered the night. A fine spray of shards struck me as both Liaci and Mags pulled me down onto the wooden floor of the veranda. We fell in a heap, one on top of the other. I heard screams and cries, then rough hands lifting my body. A maze of faces flew past me, then one came into view and stayed. Eric.

“Izzy! Are you all right? Were you hit?” He ran his hands over my body, looking for blood.

“It was only the railing light fixture, Eric. It broke.”

“No, baby, it didn’t. It was a gunshot. Mags and Liaci are hit.”

“No!” I screamed, pulling myself from the floor and scrambling on my hands and knees toward my aunt’s prone body. Selene was there, pressing a white tablecloth to a seeping red wound at Mag’s shoulder. Her lilac and white skirt lay coated in blood around her.

“Mags!” I threw myself on her, grasping the other end of the cloth to help Selene. Mag’s face grew deathly white, but she was still breathing. I thanked the Universe for that. Selene’s eyes met mine as tears streaked down her cheeks.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Yes, only a few cuts. What happened?”

Selene looked around, keeping her head low. “I don’t know. Someone shot from the parking lot, they think. It hit the glass light fixture, then went through Mags and hit this guy over there.”

I lifted my gaze to Liaci, sprawled out on the porch. Adrian bent over him, applying the same pressure as Selene. Finally he sat back on his heels and lifted his gaze to us, then shook his head. Liaci’s eyes were wide open, the look of shock at the audacity of a bullet interrupting his plans frozen on his face. A thought of the inescabality of karma drifted through my mind. Then I turned my attention back to Mags and willed the paramedics to hurry. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. I looked up into the night sky, searching for answers.

There were none.

*****

An hour later, our family and friends sat in the waiting area of the hospital in Mobile. Mags had been rushed into surgery. Liaci was dead, killed instantly from the bullet of a high powered hunting rifle, straight through the heart. I had a few pieces of glass removed from my arm, then I was released to join the others. Eric sat beside me, his arm never leaving my shoulders. I leaned into him, drawing on his strength to keep me from falling apart. Sarabeth, the girls, Selene and Adrian sat huddled together on the couch across from us. Janell stood at the doorway, one side of her curled blonde hair wilted and limp on her shoulder. She glanced around, her eyes wide and startled. People would talk about this party for years, but not in the way she’d envisioned. The others shuffled around, leaning on the walls and bringing coffee to each other. Fort Bedford, united. Once again, in sorrow.

Finally the doctor arrived, dressed in blue scrubs and a matching cap over his brown hair. “Gather around, everyone. The bullet went straight through and missed any major arteries. She’ll need further care, but at this time we don’t feel her injuries are life–threatening.”

Selene stood, spent tissues crushed in her right hand. “Can we see her? Please?”

The doctor shook his head, then looked at the crowd gathered around him. “Is Isuelt MacPherson here?”

I stepped forward, my hand raised. “Here.”

The doctor nodded. “She shouldn’t see anyone right now, but she became so agitated that I bent the rules. She insists on seeing you. Come with me.”

Selene’s face fell at this news. I hugged her tight.

“I’m sorry. I know you want to see her.”

Selene sniffled and shook her head, then gave me a soft smile. “No. It’s right that you’re with her. Go.”

I followed the doctor down the hallway, unable to keep myself from peeking into each room on the way to Recovery. So many suffering people. Their pains touched me with a physical presence, calling to me to come and alleviate them. Overwhelming, and yet–I didn’t feel panicked by it. Only calm, centered. Was this what it was like to hear the faery doctor’s call? I shook my head, trying to focus on the doctor’s words as he turned toward me.

“Five minutes only, Miss MacPherson. She’s very weak and drowsy. She may not be able to speak to you a great deal. Let her know you’re there. That must be what she wants.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He lifted the curtain, then led me toward Mag’s bed. With another smile, he left us alone.

Mag’s small, slight frame in the middle of the white sheets took me by surprise. Her glamoring gift was nowhere to be seen. In place of her usually booming, powerful life force was this tiny elderly woman, her white hair in a fluffy cloud around her head. I found myself wishing I had some of her purple accessories, if only to restore her to the Mags I knew. I leaned over her, taking her hand.

One eye opened, just a sliver. Enough for her to see me. Immediately, she squeezed my fingers in response. I pressed her tiny palm to my cheek.

“You’re not hurt,” she murmured. “So glad.”

“But you’re hurt.” I struggled to keep my emotions in check, for her sake. “Not so glad.”

Mags snorted lightly. “Can’t kill the old broad. Already been shown my final exit. This isn’t it.”

“That’s good news.” I kissed her hand, tears threatening at the edge of my lashes. I never thought I would love her so much. “What can I do to help you? Just name it, and I’ll do it.”

Her eyebrows lifted a notch. “Good. Call your guide.”

“Finnian? Why? Do you need him to help you?”

She shook her head. “No. Your guide only helps you. Call him. To help you help me.”

I didn’t get what she was talking about, but I hesitated no longer. I closed my eyes and called out inside my mind. “Finnian. Please come, my friend. I will await you.”

Within an instant, I caught sight of Finnian jumping down from wherever he stayed when I didn’t see him. “I am here, Isuelt.”

I turned to Mags. “He’s here.”

“Good,” Mags said, gripping my hand and pulling it to the bandages at her shoulder. “Ask him to tell you what to do.”

“What? I don’t get what you mean.”

“Ask him,” Mag ordered, her tone brooking no argument.

“All right.” I closed my eyes to concentrate and focused on Finnian. “Mags wants me to ask you what to do. What is she talking about?”

Finnian nodded. “She is asking for you to move energy in order to heal, Isuelt. It is time for you to release this gift for her good. Are you ready?”

“No. But when has that stopped me lately?”

Finnian smiled. “Always the joker. Focus now, Isuelt. Hold your hands over her wound. Open yourself to the healing forces of the Universe. Then wait. You will see.”

I frowned in response. “That’s it? Wait and see? Don’t I get any other guidance?”

“Trust, Isuelt. You must trust.”

With a frustrated sigh, I put my hands over Mag’s bandaged shoulder, careful to not apply any pressure. Then I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths, quieting my brain’s inner chatter as best I could.

Focus. Trust. Open.

Within a few minutes, I saw it. A small white cloud began to form over Mag’s bed. It grew larger, churning with little flashes like lighting inside it. I looked at the cloud, mystified by its presence. Suddenly the intensity surged, the energy of it crackling. In an instant, it happened. A huge bolt of white light hit me at the top of my head. I thought to cry out, but there was no pain. In fact, it felt wonderful, like the rush of warm water from the sea sluicing through me. The light slowly filled my head, then edged down to my shoulders, over my arms, and at last into my palms. Once there, it left my body to fill Mag’s shoulder area, encompassing her wounds with brilliance. I watched, fascinated, until at last the light from the cloud faded and the last bit of light entered Mag’s shoulder. Whatever this was, it had completed its course.

“Ah,” Mags said, a smile gracing her face. “That was good. You’re excellent at this, Isuelt. Knew you would be.”

“At what? I didn’t do anything.”

Mags opened her eyes and looked at me. “Now you understand. A shaman does not own the power. She is the conduit of it. You’ve grasped the most important lesson of all.”

I couldn’t reply. I stood by her bed, overcome by what I’d experienced. It made sense now. Being a faery doctor wasn’t about forcing the power to happen. It was about allowing it to flow through you. All I had to do was step aside and let it be.

“I love you, Mags.” I took her hand in mine and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

Mags eyes drifted shut. “My little one,” she whispered.

“Well done, Isuelt.” Finnian sat beside me on the bed, then placed one small white paw on my arm. “She will sleep now. The doctors will find her much improved in the morning. They will congratulate themselves on their expertise.” Finnian smiled, his whiskers twitching with amusement. “They will be partially correct.”

Mags gave a slight snore, then turned her head, a soft smile on her lips. Some of the color in her face had returned, the natural pink of her cheeks in blossom. I gently laid her hand on her stomach as Finnian and I exited the room.

“Thank you, my friend,” I said to him.

“It is not I you should thank. But you will learn this.” He nodded, then slowly disappeared.

I caught myself before someone saw me in the hallway, waving goodbye to empty air. Then I rushed back to the waiting room.

Selene grabbed me the moment I entered. “Is she all right? How did she look?”

I cupped Selene’s face in my palms. “She‘s okay. Don’t worry. The Universe is taking care of her. Nothing to fear.”

Selene’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Oh, thank Goddess. I’m so glad.”

“Where’s Adrian?” I looked around, concerned that my future brother–in–law wasn’t by my sister’s side.

“He went to the main floor with Eric. Some kind of disturbance down there. He said they’d check it out and be right back. But that was a half hour ago.” Selene joined me in scanning the hallway. No sign of them.

The others had drifted away after the doctor’s all–clear speech, leaving only the family and our closest friends to linger in the grey–green painted waiting room. Sarabeth sat dozing on the couch, the girls cuddled next to her. Janell sat in the corner, reading a faded fashion magazine. Odette and Lamont sat talking quietly, their eyes on a CNN report. I glanced at the television, then caught sight of the next news story. My mouth dropped open in surprise.

“This is Beth Suarez, reporting live from Fort Bedford, Florida. Notorious mobster Francisco Liaci was gunned down tonight in this small Florida panhandle town, ten miles east of the Alabama border. Liaci, investigated but not charged in connection with several unsolved murders and organized crime activities in New Jersey, was a reputed member of a drug ring based in Miami. Liaci was shot while dining at the Mariner Seahouse, the oldest dining establishment in Fort Bedford. As you may recall, Fort Bedford was the location of the Missing Fingers Serial Murders that occurred here last summer. We’re live at the police station, awaiting word from the police chief of Fort Bedford, Harlan Roberts. We have a crew at the hospital in Mobile, Alabama, where the other victims in this shooting, Mary Margaret O’Hickey O’Sullivan and Isuelt MacPherson, were rushed for treatment. At this time we do not know the connection between Liaci and the other victims. As soon as Chief Roberts emerges to give us a statement, we’ll break in to broadcast. Back to you, Bob.”

As Bob, some guy with a slicked–back blonde head and a too–bright smile, began to read his next story, I turned toward my sister.

“Oh, shit.”

Selene nodded. “That must be what’s going on downstairs. The news crews are in front of the hospital. They’ll remember you were Sean’s girlfriend and we were involved in the murders last year. The feeding frenzy will be huge. We have to get you out of here.”

“What about you? They’ll descend on you, too.”

Selene shook her head. “It wasn’t my name on CNN.”

“Good point.” I walked to the windows, then lifted the blinds slightly to peer outside. The parking lot was full. News vans from Mobile, Pensacola, and beyond parked haphazardly in front of the hospital, each of them attempting to get as close as they could without riling hospital security. I was cooked.

“Adrian!”

I turned as Selene threw her arms around Adrian. He hugged her tight in return. Eric followed him, his dark eyes darting across the room until his gaze fell on me. I didn’t wait. I rushed to him and threw my arms around his neck.

“Are you okay?” he murmured against my cheek.

“No.” I let go of him and set my heels on the floor. “I’m trapped in this hospital, thanks to the news guys.”

Eric shook his head. “No, you’re not. Adrian and I have a plan.”

I looked at Adrian. He gave Selene a kiss on the forehead, then held her close. “We’re going to create a diversion. Selene and I will go out the front door and draw the reporters to us. Janell and the girls can escape with Sarabeth and go to her house. Odette, can you and Lamont stand being our getaway car?”

Odette’s beehive hairdo jiggled as she nodded. “You bet we can.”

“Eric, you’re taking Izzy to safety. They’ll be all over the house at Fort Bedford, so don’t return there.”

Eric nodded, his arm around my shoulders. “Not a problem. I know a safe, secluded place they won’t find her.”

“Excellent. Is everyone agreed?”

“No.”

All eyes turned to Janell, who’d tossed down the fashion mag and stood with her hands on her hips.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because I don’t want Sellie and Adrian to be the diversion. They’ve been through enough. Let me deal with the press. After all, it was my party.”

Selene smiled, reaching out to Janell. “And you can cry if you want to?”

Janell hugged Selene and laughed. “Damned right I can. Let me do this, all right? You can escape with Odette and Lamont. All of you, go out the rear emergency entrance. The crews look like they’re all out front. Let me take care of this.”

“All right,” Selene said, hugging her friend again. “Thank you, Janell. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’m sorry your party ended this way.” Janell’s eyes filled with tears.

I looked down, feeling guilty for every time I’d judged her. Then I glanced at Eric. His face set with determination, he scanned the room. Where were we headed?

“It was a wonderful party,” Adrian said, putting his hand on Janell’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “It’s not your fault that excitement and danger seem to follow us wherever we go.” He laughed, as we all did, his bit of humor thankfully breaking the ice.

“Occupational hazard,” Selene said, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“So. Are we ready to do this?” Eric hugged me against him.

“Let’s move,” Adrian replied, his tone no longer the cuddly brother–in–law I knew, but the Chicago cop he’d once been.

We set out, each of us on our own trajectory. Sneaking down hospital corridors made me feel like a fugitive, but it was the only way. I waved to Sarabeth and the girls, then to Selene, Adrian, Odette and Lamont as they slipped out the door. Eric and I watched to make sure they’d driven away without notice. Finally Eric and I neared the doorway. I made a move to open the door, but he grabbed my arm.

“Wait. That bright red hair is a signal fire, honey. Let me–” He scanned the room, then saw an old brown gimme–cap on the floor behind a chair. He twirled the mass of my hair into a twist and shoved it into the cap, then plopped it on my head.

I cringed as childhood fears of head lice flitted across my mind. “No! Get it off me. Who knows where this cap has been?”

He laughed. “I promise. The first thing we’ll do is wash your hair, as soon as we get there.”

We opened the door, then made a run through the darkness to his waiting car. Good. No one had seen us. This was going to work. Within seconds, we were buckled into his sedan and rolling out of the parking lot.

I turned to look out the back window as Eric pulled the car onto the main street. There stood Janell, a bright queen in flashing lights, her suppliants around her. She’d be famous again, but this time for a different reason than Richard Swann. Her party would go down in history as the night Francisco Liaci “got his.”

I turned toward Eric as I swung around in my seat. “You said as soon as we get there. Where is there?”

He stared straight ahead, his hands firm on the steering wheel. “My house.”

I turned away and lifted my gaze to the road. Alone. At his house. Oh, God.

Eric reached out and took my hand, then lifted it to his lips. I shivered in response, a plume of white flame igniting in my belly.

I hadn’t reached safety. I’d jumped from the frying pan into the volcano.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“We’re here.”

I pulled the cap from my head and tossed it into the backseat. Yuck. With a last glance at Eric, I opened the car door and stepped into the darkness. The roar of the ocean sounded in the distance, but I wasn’t sure which stretch of beach surrounded us. Then the familiar tang of salt in the air, the damp whip of breeze against my skin, and the scent of pines, reminded me. I was home. The land of my birth held her arms out to me, ready to take me in from the storm. I drew a deep breath and released the tension I’d held ever since I’d seen Aunt Mag’s prone body on the veranda. Eric came from behind and put his hands on my shoulders, startling me from my thoughts. I jumped in response.

“Hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

I turned toward him and managed a small smile. “You don’t scare me, Eric. You never have.”

He lifted his hand to pull a wind–tossed lock of hair from my eyes. “Oh, yeah? What do I make you feel?”

“Hm. Cautious. Careful. Watchful.” Of course, that wasn’t all. But I couldn’t tell him that. I turned toward the small building to our right. “Is this your place? You rented a beachfront?”

“I can’t stand to stay in small spaces. No hotel rooms for me.” He pulled away and walked to the door of the cabin, his keys jangling in his hand. “Come on. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you the place.”

“Okay. Thanks for rescuing me from the press, Eric. I couldn’t bear to deal with that right now.”

He fiddled with the keys before the lock finally clicked open. He turned toward me and smiled, the moonlight soft on his hair. “That’s why I’m here.” He frowned, then opened the door. “Despite what I made you think at first.”

I walked inside as he flipped on the light. The beach cottage had the utilitarian feel of a rented space, but Eric filled it with his own touches. Books on the bookshelves, a surfboard leaned against one wall, magazines spread over the coffee table. The energy was masculine, active, intense. Not quite what I’d pegged him to be, only a few days ago. The Seven of Cups card in Selene’s tarot deck danced across my mind. I’d held so many illusions about Eric. How many more did I hold about other things?

“Nice place. I didn’t know you surfed.”

He closed the door, then shot the bolt. I shivered, awareness of him as a man rising sharp in my belly. Suddenly the broad curves of his shoulders, the length of his back, his firm abdomen beneath his shirt, the five o’clock shadow dark on his jaw, became more primal. He seemed to shift before my eyes from the starched, uptight man I’d met at the restaurant into a man sure of what he wanted, sure of whom he wanted. He walked toward me. I thought he meant to touch me. I tensed, every fiber in my body rising to meet him. Instead, he only slipped my purse from my shouder, then tossed it onto a chair nearby.

“I lived near the ocean in high school. Want something to drink? The kitchen’s this way.”

I followed him through the small dining room into the kitchen area. The rustic look of the house from the outside hid the modern treasure inside. The kitchen was first rate. All new silver appliances, an island prep space with every possible gadget hanging from a copper ring overhead. Did he cook, too? Who would have thought it?

“Selene would love this place.” I touched a silver set of measuring spoons, then ran my hand over the garlic press next to them. “Do you know how to use these things?”

He laughed, then pulled a frying pan from inside the island. “Yes, I do. I’m actually very good at it.”

“Then why were you eating at the restaurant every day, with all this at your disposal?”

He put the fry pan down and looked at me with such power that I thought I might melt from the impact. Then he gave me just a hint of a smile. “I think you know why.”

I turned away, my breath caught in my chest. This was more than I could handle.

He cleared his throat and set the pan on top of the stove. “What do you think about what happened tonight? Did you get any information from Liaci, before he met his end?”

I pulled a stool from beneath the bar that encircled the island and sat, grateful for the reprieve from my thoughts. “I found out a lot. More than I wanted to know. Brian owed Liaci and his pals seventy–five thousand dollars. He couldn’t pay up, so he tried to shake down his family into selling their land to settle his problem. They refused, so he agreed to turn the family feed store into a storage area for drugs coming up from Miami.”

Eric walked toward me and leaned a hip on the island counter. “Let me get this straight. Brian winds up dead, and so does the man who intends to collect from him.”

“Um, yes. You’re right. Sort of odd, isn’t it? I mean, Fort Bedford isn’t exactly the organized crime capital of the world. Not that Liaci didn’t have that in mind.” My stomach tightened at the thought.

“What about Brian’s family? They’re aware of the kind of trouble he’d garnered. Yet they’ve apparently said nothing to the police about it.”

“Of course not. Gladys Miller would rather see the murder go unsolved than implicate one of the pristine Millers in a scandalous story. She loved Brian. She loves her cloak of privilege and respect even more.”

Eric shook his head. “We have more questions than answers. There’s a piece to this puzzle we aren’t taking into account. There may be a connection between Brian and Liaci’s deaths that we aren’t seeing. We need to do more digging.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, his expression serious. “I don’t believe in coincidences. Nothing happens without cause, even when we can’t understand it at the time.”

I laughed. “You sound like Finnian.”

“Finnian? Who’s that?”

I looked away, embarrassed that I’d revealed myself. “Let’s call him a family friend. He’s certainly a close pal of mine.”

Eric grinned and crossed his arms. “Oh, really? Should I be concerned about this competition?”

“Hardly.” I lifted my gaze to his. “I haven’t been with anyone since Sean, until Brian. No one. I thought I could trust Brian, that he was a fresh chance for me to–oh, damn it all.” I slapped my hand on the counter, disgust flooding me. “How could Brian do something like this? How could he throw his life away over gambling and money? And how could I–” I stopped, shame cutting my words.

Eric turned toward me, then rested his arms on the island and looked into my eyes. “You mean, how could you be with a man and not know what he’s really like?”

“Yeah.” I dropped my gaze, busying myself with a jagged edge of caulking on the tile of the counter. “I had no idea what he was doing. No clue. Just another case of me not having the smarts to see what’s right in front of me.”

Eric reached over and took my hand. “That wasn’t a case of not being smart, Izzy. That’s a case of wanting to see the best in people. That’s what I love about you. Even though you’ve been hurt, you’ve never stopped caring about others.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Eric, but really, it doesn’t fit me.”

“I think it does.” He stood, then pulled at my hand. “Come with me. I want you to see something.”

I followed him into the living room. He led me to the bookcase, then pointed to the third shelf. I recognized the books he’d written, all in hardback. Death at Macromber Point. A Fatal Dream. Joshua’s Loss. All sixteen of them, lined in a row.

I picked up Death at Macromber Point. “This was my favorite. I’ve read all your books, you know.”

He leaned against the shelves, his hand in his hair. “All of them? Are you sure?”

“Oh, absolutely.” I thumbed through the book in my hand. “That‘s my secret obsession. I read constantly. Everything. Literature. Mystery. Romance. Science Fiction. Fantasy. Non–Fiction. I’m a mail–order bookstore’s best friend. I work to read. Just check my credit card bills.”

He cocked his head and frowned. “And yet, you incessantly tell me that you aren’t smart. Why is that? Don’t you know that the best way to become educated, to become smart, is to read, and then apply what you’ve read? Isn’t that what you do, every day?”

I stared at the book in my hand, his words holding me still. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Look at me, Izzy.” He took the book from my hands and returned it to the shelf. “Do you want to know why I’m so interested in crime stories? Why I feel duty bound to dig out the truth, to expose the way criminals think to the public, so they won’t be fooled when they see something wrong?”

I stared at him, the intense look on his face surprising me. “No. Tell me why.”

He looked down for a moment, as if gathering courage, then stared straight into my eyes. “Because I grew up visiting prison. Once a week, until I finally became legal and my family couldn’t guilt me into going. My son of a bitch father was an inmate. Convicted of murder.”

I shook my head, disbelief prickling my skin. “But–you’re a big time author. You went to an Ivy League school. You had to come from money.”

He laughed, then cupped my face with his hands. “I have money now, Izzy. But my sisters and I grew up in rundown trailer parks, old abandoned shacks, and sometimes out of the backseat of my old man’s car. Yeah, I was Ivy League. On a full scholarship that I busted my butt to achieve, to show everyone I wasn’t my father. I’m not what you think, Izzy. But I am the man you see, right in front of you.”

My head spun with confusion. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to see the truth. Don’t believe what everyone has said about you. They don’t know you. You know you.” He shook his head, then grinned. “I spent a long time hiding the facts about my life. I put on a face, worked hard to emulate the kind of people I thought I ought to be. I set myself apart from everyone else, holding them at arm’s length. But Sarabeth, when she did whatever she did to me the other day -- she opened up my false front and looked inside. Pretty terrible experience for someone like me. But she let fresh air touch that empty hole inside me. All of the sudden, I didn’t feel ashamed anymore. What my old man did, how I grew up, it doesn’t matter. It’s who I am now that matters.” He dropped his hands and stood away from me. “I haven’t liked the man I was for some time. I’m sorry I hurt you when I first came to town, Izzy. I was stupid.”

I sighed, then reached up to caress his cheek. “I was stupid, too. I’ve locked myself into a cage of my own making. I didn’t know how to get out. I believed what other people said and fit myself into their image. You did the opposite, but ended up in the same cage as me.” I shook my head, an odd sense of understanding seeping into my consciousness. “Now that we know, we can’t go back, can we. We’re busted.”

He placed his hand over mine and stepped closer. “I guess so. We’ll have to find out what it’s like to live without the mask.”

“I’m willing to try it.”

His eyes grew dark as he took another step toward me. The heat of his body caressed the soft weave of my dress, reminding me that this was no image. Eric was real, tangible, and so very near. He leaned forward, his lips barely touching my ear.

“I said I wouldn’t touch you until you asked me. I still won’t, even though that’s all I want to do right now.”

I swallowed hard and looked up at him. His hands hung loosely at his sides, yet I could sense his need and desire crackling around us, like static electricity before a hurricane.

“I want you, Izzy. Give me a single word, and I’ll show you everything I feel. This isn’t just sex. We’ve both had plenty of that. That’s not what I want now. Not with you. I want more. A lot more.” His lips moved to my hairline, caressing the tiny, flyaway curls at my forehead. “Say no and I’ll stop. I’ll go away. Say yes, and–“

“Stop,” I said, placing my hand on his chest. He stepped away, a stricken look on his face. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back.

“No, silly. Stop talking. I was ready to give you the word ten minutes ago.”

His face broke into a huge smile. I couldn’t restrain the intense, answering surge of joy that flooded my heart.

“I want you, Eric. Make love to me.”

He threw his arms around me, raining kisses on my cheeks as he spun me around the room. I laughed and hugged his neck tight. I’d experienced many different emotions with men in my past, but never this. Never jubilation. Exhilaration filled my head. I laughed out loud.

He set me on my feet, both of us still laughing. Then slowly, our joy ebbed as desire surged. He cupped my head in his large, square palms, then bent to kiss me. No, not kiss me. He bent to worship me. His lips opened over mine, soft yet firm, turning other kisses I’d received into dust. His tongue danced lightly across the edges of my mouth, then plunged in to meet mine in passionate battle.

I threw my arms around him, the desire to be with him all that I could feel or think. His arms encircled me, lifting me against him. He walked forward, heading hopefully to some nearby flat surface , but I didn’t care where we landed. I only wanted to arrive there with him. He kicked open a door, then a soft, fluffy comforter hit my back as we fell into his bed.

“Izzy,” he said, his voice rough and low. “I want this to be perfect for you. I want it to be–“

I put a finger to his lips. “Shh. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Being with you already is. Don’t you know that by now?”

He grinned. “No, I didn’t. But I’ll believe you.”

I smiled in return, then slipped my arms around his neck. “You’d better. Don’t forget. I’m very smart.”

“You’re everything, Izzy,” he whispered. He leaned down and nuzzled my neck as his other hand slid to the rise of my breast.

I gasped, anxious for his skin against mine, his hands bold on my body. I writhed in pleasure beneath him, then pulled his shirt free from his trousers. He got the hint, his hands quick to the tie of my wrap dress. Within seconds we were naked in each others’ arms, freed from all confines.

His lips moved from my mouth to trail hot and wet down the side of my neck, over my collarbones, and at last to my breast. He held it in his hand, caressing the soft skin with his cheek, his hair. I grabbed his head to show him what I wanted, but he pulled away with a grin. He leaned over me, flicking my nipple with the tip of his tongue, teasing, teasing until I thought I would burst. Then without warning, he sucked the pink tip into his mouth with luscious force. I almost screamed from the intense pleasure. He seemed to know exactly what I liked and how I liked it. I drove my hands into his hair, urging him on as my hips beat an ancient message against his body. He released my nipple, almost causing me to yelp in protest. But he wasn’t done. He gently blew on the wet, turgid point, increasing the pleasure with a sudden sizzle. Then he turned to my other breast and did the same, using his hand to keep up the tempo with the one he’d just left.

I felt as if I’d lost my mind. I could feel the fire building higher inside me. I was about to come, yet he hadn’t even touched me below the waist. Was it possible to orgasm this way? I forgot the question when the first wave hit me, pulling me under with erotic undertow. I gripped his shoulder and cried out, my voice echoing in the small bedroom.

I’d never felt anything like this before. He lifted his head, a look of surprise and satisfaction on his face.

“Was that what I thought it was?”

I laughed, then grabbed him tight with my legs. “Oh yeah, it was. But that’s not enough. Give me more, Eric. Give me everything. Give me all of you.”

He slid his body over me with a smooth glide that spoke of many times of loving, not the first. In that instant we came together, his hard, hot penis driving deep inside me. I pushed my body up to meet him, my toes digging into the sheets of the bed. This wasn’t sex. It was celebration. I reached up to cup his face in my hands, keeping my eyes open, just as he did. I wanted to see him, to be with him completely, body, heart, mind, soul. He pushed harder and harder as we rode the fiery beast we’d created, pulling me so high with him into the sky that I didn’t think I could breathe. Then at last we reached the summit, exploding into brilliant, dazzling light I wasn’t sure existed in the physical world. We fell like embers from a fire, back toward the ground, resting in a cushion of sand. Glowing softly, holding the heat, remembering the blaze.

I held him close to me, neither of us wishing to roll away from the other. His hair curled wet at the nape of his neck as his ragged breaths filled my ear. I’d never heard a more wonderful sound. I hugged him tight, then without even realizing it, I whispered my heart’s secret.

“I love you, Eric. I don’t want to, but I do.”

He lifted his head and looked down at me. “I know. I love you, too. I didn’t plan it, but it’s here. And I don’t want to stop.”

As I looked into his eyes, a strange caution washed over me. Why did it feel so genuine, so perfect, with him? Was I dreaming?

He kissed the tip of my nose. “What’s the matter?”

I caressed his chest, running my fingers over the dark, wiry hairs. “Nothing. That’s just it. I’m so used to having things go wrong. I don’t know what to do when they’re right.”

He kissed my lips, then pulled me close and drew the bedcovers over us. “Don’t worry about that. I’m here. I’ll make it right, for both of us.”

I put my arms around him and snuggled to his chest. “I hope you can.”

I whispered the words, afraid to let fate hear my desire. I knew from experience. Good things never last for long.

*****

I woke the next morning to the scent of Belgian Waffles. I opened my eyes, surprised for a moment by the strange room surrounding me. White walls, dark blue curtains, paintings of seascapes hung in rustic frames. A stark opposite to the funky, cluttered décor of my room at MacPherson House.

Then I remembered. Eric’s place. I smiled and rolled onto my back, luxuriating in the cool, soft sheets. We’d made love five times last night, each one better than before, until we’d finally slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

Despite the lack of sleep, I’d never felt more rested. I lifted my arms over my head, enjoying the pleasant afterglow. Then I hugged myself, content to exist in this bed for the rest of my life.

My growling stomach overruled that notion.

Eric walked into the room with a tray filled with waffles, sausage, eggs, and orange juice. I sat up and pulled the sheet over my breasts.

“What is this, the Paris Hilton treatment?”

He grinned and shook his head. “Are you kidding? This is better. This is the Isuelt MacPherson treatment. I told you I’d treat you like royalty, didn’t I?”

“You’re right, you did. You may place the tray upon my lap, kind sir.” I lifted my arms, allowing the sheet to fall.

His eyes lit up, then he ground his teeth. “Izzy, you keep doing that and neither of us will ever eat again. We’ll waste away from too much exertion and not enough fuel.”

I pulled the sheet up and tried for a contrite expression. “Well, if you’re no longer interested, I can–“

In a flash, the tray was on the table and he was in bed, his arms around me as he pulled me down onto the sheets.

“How’s this for interested,” he murmured against my hair. He slipped his hands beneath me and curled me into the cradle of his body.

I laughed, then turned toward him. “Okay, okay! I’m convinced!” My stomach growled again, loud enough for even Eric to hear. “I think we’d better eat. I don’t want to lose energy, after all.”

“Wise woman,” he replied. He turned and grabbed the tray, then set it in front of me on the sheets. He sliced a bite of Belgian Waffle, then lifted it to my lips. Oh, yes. Paradise on a fork.

“Oh, God, this is so good. I think I’ll keep you around just for your cooking abilities.”

He kissed the nape of my neck as he cuddled closer behind me. “Are you sure that’s all?”

“Only partly,” I admitted. I reached up to caress his cheek. I’d never felt so at ease with a man. Not even Sean. Funny how it didn’t hurt so much to admit that. Not today.

Eric allowed me to eat my fill, which meant I ate everything on the tray and asked for a second helping. Later we sat at the kitchen table, reluctantly leaving the bed for a short break. Life had its way of intervening. Eric had phone calls to return.

I had phone calls to make.

“Sellie? It’s me, Izzy. Are you and Adrian all right?”

“We’re fine. We’re safe at Odette’s house. How about you? Are you all right?”

Her tight, stiff tone told me how much she’d worried. “I’m perfect. Everything’s fine. How about the house? Is the coast clear to go home?”

“Not yet. Janell says there are still a few camera crews hanging around, hoping to get a few pictures of the notorious MacPherson sisters. We’re famous again. I’m sorry, Izzy.”

“Sellie, don’t you dare apologize. You aren’t responsible for this. If anyone is, I am. But I’ll make it right. I promise.”

“I don’t care about that. I just need you to be safe.”

I smiled, grateful for the Mother Hen in my sister. It was time to start appreciating her natural spirit instead of rebelling against it. Maybe we’d find peace between her protectiveness and my free spirit, if we agreed to meet in the middle. “Okay. Hey, I love you, Big Sis.”

The phone line crackled in the silence. Then Selene spoke, her voice trembling with emotion. “Oh, Izzy. I love you, too. So much. Call me later.”

“You bet. Hug Adrian for me.” I hung up the phone, pleased that my simple words gave my sister such pleasure. Healing was a natural thing, and so simple at its heart. I had a lot to learn.

“Everyone all right?” Eric came behind me, then pulled me into his lap at the kitchen table.

“So far. The press hasn’t found us in any of our hideouts, but they’re still out there. I guess I’ll have to hide here for a while.” I turned and put my arms around him. “We’ll have to find something to entertain ourselves until we can leave.”

Eric grinned, then ran his warm, rough hand up my bare leg. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that.” He kissed me, then pulled away before I could devote my full attention. “Not to interrupt the mood, but I have to ask you about what you said last night. About Brian being in trouble. With Liaci dead, I suppose that crosses him from the list of suspects.”

I turned in his lap, one arm still around his neck. The sudden shift in conversation wasn’t exactly the most romantic, particularly with me clad in only my bra and panties while his hand rubbed my thigh. I pushed aside my frustration, unwilling to spoil the day. It was true. We had a murder to solve. Make that two murders.

“Liaci told me to my face that he didn’t kill Brian. But why was Liaci shot? Did he and Brian cook something up that made them more trouble than they were worth to Liaci’s associates? There’s no honor among thieves, my Grandmother used to say. ”

Eric scooted me higher on his lap, his frown matching mine. “We don’t think Morrissette did it. We don’t think Liaci did it. That puts us back at square one.”

“I guess it does, except–oh, damn!” I jumped from Eric’s lap and slapped my forehead. How could I have forgotten?

Eric stood beside me. “What is it?”

I turned toward him and put my hands on my hips, aggravation bubbling inside me. “Selene. She told me the night of the murder that Brian’s spirit was speaking to her before he crossed over. He told her I knew who the murderer was. I told her I didn’t, and I still don’t know. I get it now. What he meant was that the murderer is someone known to me. That rules out Liaci and his cronies completely, since I hadn’t met them yet. I know the murderer. But I don’t know.”

“What?” Eric put his hands on his hips, mirroring my stance.

I shook my head at him. “I’m sorry, I’m not making sense. Brian said that I know the murderer. If that’s true, then whoever killed him lives in this town. Our murderers are home–grown, Eric. If it’s not Marty, and I don’t think it is, then we have to take a long look at every person in Fort Bedford.”

I recoiled from the prospect of my neighbors and friends as suspects. No one I knew appeared capable of murder, particularly a knife to the back. That took hatred, force, and a willingness to come close to the victim, to drive their intent physically into them. I shivered, the image of Brian’s bloodied body sharp in my mind. Someone in this town was the kind of person who could do that to one of our own. A violation of our tribe, our community. They walked among us, right now.

Eric hugged me, then rested his chin on the top of my head. “As soon as it’s safe to go out, we’ll begin again, Izzy. I promise. We’ll get to the bottom of this. About Liaci, Brian, all of it. Whoever the killer is, they won’t get away with it.”

I lifted my head to him, the vehemence in his voice sparking my memory of his words last night. “Is your father still in jail?”

His jaw tensed, but his expression remained cool. “He’s got another thirty years to serve.” He rested his head on mine, his embrace tight around my shoulders. “He almost escaped capture, Iz. He grabbed my sisters and ran. I refused to go. He beat me, but I wouldn’t leave with him. I knew what he was. The authorities caught him in North Carolina. My sisters were turned over to my aunts. I spent some time in the foster child system, but eventually I wound up with my Aunt Nora. She saved me, in more ways than one.”

I hugged him close, his wounded spirit calling to me. “You must have been so scared.”

He shook his head, then pulled away. “That was then, a long time ago. This is now.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “I’m going to catch a shower. Then let’s see what we can come up with in a brainstorming session. How’s that?”

I noted his withdrawl and decided not to push his boundaries. “Sounds good.” That didn’t mean I couldn’t lift his spirits. I tugged on his shirt to pull him closer, then lightly ground my hips into him. “Want me to take that shower with you?”

He laughed, then answered my moves with a few of his own. “If you do, we won’t be getting clean.”

“Ooh, I like being dirty with you. But I think I’ll let you go. For a little while.”

I love you,” he said, giving my hips one last thrust. “Be back in a flash.”

Without thinking, I called out to him. “I love you, too.”

He stopped and turned toward me, then gave me a huge smile. He began to cross the room in my direction, but I waved him away with my hand.

“Go on, silly. Take your bath.”

Please take your bath, I thought. I needed a few minutes alone to sort out my mind. Could we be in love this quickly? Or were our mutual feelings the result of mind–blowing sex, doomed to evaporate?

He nodded, a sly look on his face. “If you insist. I’ll leave the door unlocked, in case you change your mind about joining me.”

I smiled. “Don’t tempt me, honey.”

“Sorry, that’s out of the question. I plan to tempt you into all kinds of things. You wait and see. ” With that, he shut the door.

I struggled to restrain myself from dashing through the shower curtain. Oh, God, I wanted him. But did I really love him? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. Maybe it was best to just think about today.

I turned from enticement and walked into his bedroom. The water rushed through the ancient pipes of the cottage and rattled the walls, but I didn’t mind. Everything about this battered old house seemed endearing. I’d never forget it.

I looked out the south window and watched the ocean waves rolling in, white and foamy. So beautiful. On impulse, I leaned over a rickety brown desk and opened the portal. I had to let the ocean breeze inside, to join us in our pleasure. I pulled on the window frame hard, until it finally budged and flew open with a crack. Instantly, papers piled on Eric’s desk blew around his room as if they’d been struck by a water spout. I frantically chased them around, snagging them before they flew any further. I held them all close to my body and stuffed them under a pair of shoes on the floor, then shut the window.

Well. That was a dumb idea. How was I going to explain this mess? I sat down and removed his black high top tennis shoes from the stack of crisp white papers. Maybe I could get them back into order again.

I shuffled through the sheets, expecting numbered pages like a manuscript. Instead, all of the pages were handwritten, hastily scribbled in an outline–style. Eric’s now familiar scrawl was about as hard to read as a doctor’s prescription, but over time I’d learned to decipher at least ninety percent of his doodling. Most of the papers held reflections on Fort Bedford, the land, the sea, the people, the history of the town. I smiled, happy to read how clearly he’d come to understand how the town worked, how it lived and breathed with its own life. I began to straighten the papers, one by one. My breath stopped when I saw my name at the top of the last page.

Not just my name, but details about my life, about Selene, Adrian, the kids. The entire page was filled in every available space. Under my name I read, “Isuelt MacPherson. Possible suspect in the prior murders, released. Suspect again in most recent murder. Possibility of guilt: high. Clearly engaged in occult activities with family members. Current manuscript should focus on her life and how she came to be involved with the victims. Possible Black Widow? Check reports of promiscuous behavior. Investigate closely. Confront, then console. Arrange meetings to secure trust.”

The papers slipped to the floor as the blood in my veins slowed to a trickle. He thought I was a killer. A Black Widow. He’d come to Fort Bedford to prove it. Confront, then console. Arrange meetings to secure trust. Was that why I was in his bed?

Oh, God. I pushed away from the papers on my hands and knees, my arms trembling. I pulled myself to my feet, then grabbed my dress and slipped it over my underwear. I didn’t put on my strappy shoes. No time. I grabbed Eric’s keys and my purse and ran, shutting the cottage door behind me.

My heart hammered in my chest, but I didn’t let the pain stop me. I had to escape. My hands shook as I forced the key into the car door lock. I couldn’t believe it. I’d done it again. I’d trusted Eric, believed what he’d said. I’d let him inside my body, inside my heart. Oh, God, I’d said I loved him. Shame and horror rushed at me with the claws of a vulture.

I hung over the side of the opened car door, heaving up the breakfast he’d made for me. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want anything of him inside me. I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my dress and fell into the car, then roared away. I thought I heard his voice calling me, but I didn’t look back. There was nothing to see. He hadn’t attacked my body the way other men had tried. He’d violated my soul. Tears blinded my eyes, but I kept driving. Anywhere, even hell itself, was better than where I was right now.

I was with me.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I left Eric’s rental parked on the side of the road near MacPherson House with the keys inside. If his karma held true, the vehicle would be stolen within minutes by the Johnson boys, three rowdy teens who’d never seen a car they didn’t want to joyride. It was only a tidbit of what he deserved.

I regretted my lack of footwear the instant my feet hit the broiling pavement. Hopping from one foot to another, I glanced around the deserted road, then decided the best way to return home was to take the back way through Raven’s Beach. From that direction, I could see if any reporters remained camped on the front lawn. I could sneak my way into the house through the side entrance, if I played my cards right.

Cards. I snorted as I thought of Selene’s tarot deck and my choice of the Seven of Cups. Illusions. Yeah, right. The only illusion I’d engaged in was the thought that someone like Eric could change that quickly. I’d fooled myself into thinking his beautiful words were true. What an idiot I’d been. Eric made his living as a writer. Words were his business. I’d only been the latest fodder for his work, as I’d originally suspected.

My vision blurred as tears once again filled my eyes. Damn, I’d cried more over the last few days than I had in the last ten years. I wiped at my face, angry at my weakness, my lack of control. Eric had done this. Opened up the soft center inside me, bared me to the sun. Then he’d left me to burn, reduced to ashes. I wanted the wind to rise up and blow me away, scattering my stupidity to the four directions. Too much pain. So much regret.

I slid my way down the side of a sand dune, turning a blind eye to the rips and dirt marring my new dress. What had I been thinking, to get all “gussied up” like this? Did I think it would change the way people thought about me? Fat chance. In fact, I–

“You must cease this, Isuelt. There is no time for self–recrimination. This is a habit of yours, not reality. Until you see this, you will be ineffective.”

I skidded to a stop as Finnian’s image shimmered into sight a few feet in front of me. I slung my evening bag over my shoulder and stared at him.

“Yeah, what do you know about it? You’re a cat, and a spiritual being to boot. You don’t have a clue what it is to be human.”

He smiled, then slowly shook his head. “Ah, but you’re wrong, Isuelt. I am not a cat, nor merely a spiritual being. And you, my dear, are not quite fully human yourself.”

I sat hard on the sand at his words. “What are you talking about? You’re exactly what I see, and I’m, well, I’m nothing if not human. I have every wart and flaw possible. Just ask anybody. They’ll tell you.”

“All illusions, Isuelt. Is that not what you were considering only a moment ago? Would you like to see beyond the appearance of this form that I carry?”

Confusion clawed at the edges of my brain as I listened. “You’re not making sense. If you’re not a cat, what are you?” I put my hands in my lap, a strong sense of anticipation stirring the fine hairs on my arms. I tingled all over, as if I’d stepped too close to an electromagnet. What was happening?

“I am many things. I take whatever form you need, in order for me to communicate with you to your highest benefit. I chose the cat form to work with you, because as a child you always favored that animal. Is that not true?”

I smiled, remembering all the stray cats I’d taken into the house over the years. “Yes. I’d be receptive to any kind of cat. Even one as irritating as you.”

Finnian laughed. “Know this, Isuelt. I have been quite gentle with you.”

“Yeah? Then I’d hate to see you get tough on a person. All right. Show me, Finnian. Show me your true self.” I sat up straighter, my sorrows beginning to lift in the presence of my guide.

Finnian nodded. He reared back on his hind legs, then lifted his small paws skyward. It was an odd position for a cat, but he managed it. A light glowed beneath him, turning the coarse, dry sand into glittering diamonds. He lifted his arms higher as the light rose to cover his body, obscuring it from my view. The light grew brighter as Finnian stretched, until at last a pillar of brilliance stood six feet tall from the base of beach. With a flash, he dropped his arms. In place of the small, white cat I’d come to know and even love stood a man, very tall with white–blonde, wavy hair, a strong, square jaw and blazing blue eyes so vivid, my first instinct was to turn away. But I held firm, meeting his gaze directly. The first flashes of a headache stirred in my brain, but I ignored them. I had to hold on. I didn’t know why, but everything inside me urged to not give up.

Finnian crossed his arms. “Well done, Isuelt. Not many can look upon the full glory of the Fae and maintain their composure. You have bravery, young one. That will be made to serve in the future.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you showing me this now?”

Finnian looked over his shoulder, then returned his gaze to me. “Things move quickly. Time is short. I have been warned of great danger. Bring forth your faery stone, Isuelt.”

I picked up my evening bag and stared at it, trying to kickstart my brain into grasping his mundane request. Working with one foot in the physical world and one foot in the spiritual world overwhelmed me, turning my senses to gray slush.

Finnian would have none of my dim–wittedness. “Now, Isuelt! You must comply quickly if you wish to survive.”

That snapped me to attention. I opened the bag and pulled out the stone. Its usual cold surface now shimmered with sizzling heat, so hot that I found it difficult to hold it in my palm. I lifted my gaze to Finnian. “What’s happening to it? What’s going on?”

“Set the stone upon the sand, Isuelt. Then repeat this phrase. You must remember it. Do you understand?”

Anxiety squeezed my stomach at his tense words, but I nodded. “Yes. I understand.” I set the stone on the sand next to Finnian, then backed away.

His vibrant blue eyes filled with sorrow as he looked at me. “I am sorry it must be this way. You were never meant to learn your path in this manner. However, the life weavings of others have now touched yours. You must rise to meet the challenge.”

“All right,” I whispered.

“Listen and remember, Isuelt. Say the words with me.” He lifted his arms to the heavens, then glanced at the hollow center of the stone. “Arise, great warriors, hear my plea! Soldiers of the Sidhe, come to me! Vanquish the evil, contain the cause! Come forth to enforce the Mother’s Laws! By Land, Sea, Sky and the transforming Fire, bring into being what I desire!”

With his last word, a bright shaft of light burst from the center of the stone. I fell backward, my mouth agape with shock. The shaft spread higher and wider, and within a moment, a warrior on mounted horseback erupted into view. The snow–white horse’s whiny echoed against the dunes as it reared up on its hind legs. The black–haired warrior astride it turned his gaze to me, his eyes filled with a vehemence I’d never seen before.

“Who calls me?” He drew a huge, shimmering sword from his side, bright silver against the blue sky.

I instinctively put up a hand to protect myself, then pushed away from the horse’s hooves as they came crashing to the sand. I glanced at Finnian, a cry of fear on my lips.

“It is I, Brother, who calls you. Have a care. You are endangering my student.”

The warrior cut his gaze to Finnian, then laughed loudly. “Ah, Brother! Why do you call me?” He looked around the beach, the wind whipping his long dark hair over his shoulders. His chain mail glinted in the sunlight. His sword caught the rays and scattered them across my body.

I fought the urge to faint. Instead, I pulled to my feet and stood unsteadily before him.

“Finnan says there’s a great danger.”

The warrior looked at me sharply, apparently not used to being addressed by a human. One eyebrow pulled low as his gaze traveled over my body, then to my face. He turned to Finnian. “This is your student? Odd. She is one of ours, yet I do not know her. Explain, Brother. Now.”

One of ours? What was he talking about? I put my hands on my hips and eyed Finnian. “Okay, that’s it. I agree with Warrior Man here. Enough with the cryptic shit you’re always dishing out. Explain, now.”

Finnian smiled at us both, then crossed his arms, mirroring his brother. “You are quite right, Brother. She is one of ours. However, she does not know it yet. None of her line do.”

“Ah,” the warrior replied. “Descendants of a changeling.”

“Yes, they–“

“Hold on a minute.” I lifted my hands and stepped between the two men, not caring when the horse’s nose swept into my hair. “I know that word. Granny used to tell us stories about them when we were little. It means when the Fae take a human baby and replace it with one of their own.” My palms dropped as I considered the implications. “Wait. Are you saying that we, that I–“

Finnian nodded. “Yes, Isuelt. Your family is favored by the Fae in a special way, not only due to the magical gifts of your Mother’s line, but because of the lineage of your Father. The O’Hickeys are descendants of the Sidhe. Children of a Changeling bride and her human husband. Our blood flows in your veins, however diluted through the centuries. Your father suspected this. Your aunt felt sure of it. But you, my pupil. You know.”

I stepped away from the men, my mind whirling. Finnian followed, his hand extended in compassion.

“Do you not see? Why do you think the world looks upon you and does not understand your ways? Why do you think people react so strongly, either positively or negatively to you? They sense the Otherworld within you, and are either drawn or incensed by its energy. To combine your father’s lineage with your mother’s created a spiritual pathway to awaken the connection between this world and the world of the Sidhe.” Finnian moved closer, then laid his hand on my arm. “Your sister is very much your Mother’s daughter, a witch of great talent. Her connection with us exists. But it was not the will of the Universe that our blood blossom strong again within her. It was meant for you. Now, you must rise to your destiny. You are our agent in the human world. Through you, we are able to aid others. Your life is a portal. This is your calling.”

I shook my head, his words incomprehensible. “No. I’m not what you say. This can’t be real. Mags didn’t tell me this. I didn’t agree to it.”

“Be that as it may, Isuelt. The only way you will survive is to join your will to the truth.”

Suddenly Finnian lifted his head toward the west. A soft breeze swept over his pale hair, as if whispering a secret. Then he grabbed my shoulders. “The stone rhyme. Do you remember it? Tell me, Isuelt, or all is lost! Do you remember it?”

“Yes, I think so.” I pulled at his grip, the urge to escape his piercing gaze overpowering other thoughts. I had to get away. I had to think. He couldn’t be right. “Let me go, Finnian. Please, let me go. Leave me alone. I can’t take anymore.”

“I will comply,” he replied, dropping his arms to his side. “But when the time of challenge arrives, call upon the stone, Isuelt. Speak the rhyme and all will be as was destined. Speak it not, and you will be lost. You must choose.” With that he turned from me and walked toward his brother. He put a hand on the horse’s neck, and with a bright explosion of light, they disappeared. The light swirled in a glimmering tornado down into the stone, then vanished with a loud pop.

I was alone again. The sound of ocean waves crashing to the shore, the call of seabirds in flight overhead, suddenly returned to my ears. During my time with the Fae, the rest of the world had faded away. It was as if I’d been enclosed in a large bubble that had abruptly burst. I’d stood between the worlds, just as Mags had described. Now I was firmly back in the physical. And if Finnian was right, I was in trouble.

Too bad I had no idea what kind of peril I faced. That would have been helpful information. Damned cat. Man. Faery. Whatever.

I scrambled to my feet and ran the rest of the way to the rear of MacPherson House, about a hundred yards from the shore. Using an old, tree–shrouded path I’d discovered when I was a little girl, I crept my way to the side of the building. With my back to the wall, I peered around the restaurant, which remained closed to customers for the duration. Three news vans sat in the front yard, large ruts in the grass beneath their tires. Selene would have their hides for this, I thought.

I smiled. Leave it to me to worry about the condition of the lawn in light of everything else. Maybe I really was some kind of nature spirit descendant.

Hah. What a joke. I was only Izzy MacPherson, doing my best with what I had left. I moved down the wall until I came to the entrance to Janell’s studio. This had been my favorite way to sneak back into the house after curfew when I was a teenager. I grabbed the old brass doorknob, then gave it three hard pulls to the right, then one hard pull to the left. The door popped open with a small creak. Thank God for my juvenile delinquency.

I closed the door behind me, then locked it tight. Janell’s current art works hung on the walls around me. Tasteful nudes, ocean landscapes, and one apparent attempt at cubism that I couldn’t quite figure out. I tiptoed around her handmade jewelry display case until I reached the hallway door. Then I slipped into the restaurant and breathed a sigh of relief. Safe at last. I slumped against the wall in gratitude.

The old–fashioned black wall phone next to my ear rang with a brain–piercing jangle. I grabbed the receiver, if only to quell the sound before the reporters got curious.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Izzy, thank God! I’m so glad I found you. It’s me, Mary Jane.”

Sean’s mother? Why was she calling the restaurant? “Mary Jane, hi. You sound frantic. Is something wrong?”

“Well, of course there is! The whole town is in an uproar after that mobster was killed right in front of us at the Seahouse. The news people have chased us around Main Street, demanding comments. They’ve been out to my house, too, wanting our reflections on the latest killings since Sean. Oh, God, how awful they are.” Mary Jane drew a long, shaky breath. “That’s why I called. I can’t find Becca. She took off once those reporters started hounding us last night. I haven’t seen her since. I’m so worried, Izzy. She’s never been away from the house this long. With everything that’s been going on since Brian was killed, I–I think something’s happened to her. I’m desperate. Will you help me find her? Please?” Mary Jane’s voice broke as she began to sob.

I gripped the phone, visions of Becca as the latest murder victim gripping my mind. Was this the great danger Finnian had sensed? Was I meant to keep her death from happening? “Of course I will. Let me get cleaned up, then we can start looking. Can you think of a place to meet?”

“Well, yes. How about McAllister Beach? It’s isolated, away from those press people. We can join forces there.”

McAllister Beach. The place where Sellie had fought Richard Swann and the Entity that possessed him last summer. I’d avoided that stretch of beach ever since. But Mary Jane needed me. I’d have to put aside my aversions. Sean would have wanted me to help her. “All right. Give me thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Izzy. Oh, I’m so grateful. I knew I could count on you. I knew you wouldn’t abandon us.”

I ignored the stab of guilt her words stirred in me. Hadn’t I abandoned them lately, so caught up in my own life that I hadn’t made time to see them? “Hang tight. Try not to worry. We’ll find her, I promise.”

“Yes. Half an hour. I’ll be waiting.”

I hung up the phone, a strong sense of foreboding shivering up my back. I’d have to keep my eyes wide open in this hunt for Becca. The dangers that threatened could come from any direction. I couldn’t let Mary Jane or her daughter be touched by them. I ran up the stairs toward the shower, anxious to stop this tide of sorrow before it caught another person in its wake.

*****

I tied my wet hair into a ponytail, then shoved my feet into a pair of scuffed cowboy boots. Who knew what kind of mess I’d step into, searching for Becca in the wilderness. It crossed my mind to call the police for help. However, Becca was over eighteen, and she’d been missing for less than twenty–four hours. It was up to Mary Jane and me to collect her and drag her back home.

I knew Sellie and the girls were safe, so I put off calling them. My sister would only tell me to stay home and keep out of sight. She didn’t understand how much I owed Sean’s family for accepting me, despite the warnings they’d received about “that MacPherson girl” from the local spinsters. They’d given me their love in the days after Sean’s death. I couldn’t turn away from that.

I peeked through the lace curtains hung in the front windows of the house. No sign of reporters. It was either their lunch break or they’d moved on to the next story, tired of covering an empty house. Good luck to whomever they trained their sights on now.

I grabbed my purse and keys, then paused when I saw the faery stone on the table beside them. I lifted the stone in my hand, testing its weight. The energy inside it kicked up several notches. It hummed against my palm, as if the blinding light I’d seen on the beach still burned beneath the now cooled stone. I put it into my jeans pocket, willing my body to ignore the sensations pulsing from the rock. I shook my head, my mind so overstimulated that I wondered if I had any sanity left. If I hadn’t seen it–the bright pillar, the warrior on horseback, Finnian towering over me in human form–I wouldn’t have believed it.

Finnian’s message rang in my head like a distant bell. Me, a descendant of the Fae. I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. No. I couldn’t believe him. If I did, then everything I’d ever assumed about myself was wrong. It was too much to bear.

I opened the front door, then stepped outside. Perfect. An easy escape. I felt like patting myself on the back. For once, things were going my way.

No such luck. Eric whipped into the driveway, his car screeching to a halt. Mud stained the sides of the vehicle, and I thought I saw a few clumps of grass stuck to the bumpers. The Johnson Boys had been quick and efficient. He slammed the door, then stalked toward me, his face red with emotion.

I lifted my chin as he neared the porch. Did he think he could intimidate me? Not a chance. A stab of remorse caught me under the ribs when I thought of how I’d abandoned his car along the road, bait for the local troublemakers. I chose to ignore it.

“What do you want?” I asked, taking the offensive.

“What do I want? I want to know what the hell is going on!” He ran his hands into his hair as he paced at the foot of the front steps. “One minute we’re making love, the next you’re taking off in my car. Then you leave it on the side of the road.” He stopped pacing and swung his gaze to me, his eyes wide. “Then Harlan calls to tell me they’ve found it in the hands of a bunch of teenagers, stuck in a field south of town! You’re nowhere to be found. I don’t know if you’ve been hurt, killed or dumped off a pier, so I start hunting for you. How can you cause so much trouble in only an hour, Izzy? Explain it! I can’t wait to hear the story.”

I swung my purse over my shoulder and descended the stairs. “You want a story? Why don’t you write it, then? You’re so good at that.”

He grabbed my arm as I passed. I gave him a look that I hope expressed all the hurt, anguish, and pain I’d felt when I’d read his notes. It must have worked. He dropped my elbow as if I’d scalded him.

“Talk to me, Izzy. Tell me what’s the matter.”

I backed away toward my car, my gaze on him. Thankfully he hadn’t parked behind me. “Just stay away, Eric. From me, my family, and my life. Come near me again and I’ll hex you into the next century. Don’t think I won’t. I’m not my sister. I’m more than willing to take the consequences.”

He wouldn’t give up. He strode toward me, his hands outstretched. “Izzy, what’s happened? Tell me, damn it! Don’t throw away everything we have because of some misunderstanding.”

That did it. I stepped toward him and pushed his chest so hard that he fell backward onto the sidewalk. He sat and stared at me, a shocked expression on his face.

“Don’t. You. Dare. What we have? We have nothing, Eric. We have lies.” I advanced on him, the urge to hurt him so strong that a frisson of fear shook me to my senses.

I took a deep breath, then stood straight. “Better stay away, baby. Far away. You don’t know what you’re dealing with. I might trap you in my web. Then you’d be next one dead. Right?” With that, my throat so tight I could barely breathe, I spun on my heel and ran to my car. He barely had time to rise to his feet before I peeled out of the driveway and sped down Shoreline Drive.

I’d driven this road a million times over the past ten years. Habit alone kept my wheels on the asphalt as tears flowed in a torrent. Damn Eric. Damn him for making me feel. I’d worked so hard to close off that part of myself. He’d pried the door open with nothing more than a few jokes and some kind words. I’d let him into my spirit, given him my trust. It was my fault. I’d reaped the whirlwind.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand, swallowing my grief. I needed to get to McAlister Beach. I didn’t have time for my heart to break. I had to keep another murder from happening. I gripped the steering wheel hard, then dug my fingernails into the plastic. Pain shivered up my arms, a sharp reminder that I was alive and kicking, despite the soulless void opening inside me.

The faery stone’s vibrations increased in tempo, quivering against my hip like a caged animal. Was it warning me, or coming to my aid? I pressed my foot harder on the accelerator, pushing my little beat–up sedan to its maximum. I’d think about what was left of my life later. Now, only McAlister Beach lay ahead, and the chance to circumvent fate.

I hugged the curve of the road, the tires squealing in protest. Determination filled my head. No more death. Becca wouldn’t be the star of the next funeral in Fort Bedford. Not if I had anything to say about it. I’d go to war with every level of the Otherworld, if that’s what it took.

Bring it on.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I took the McAlister Beach exit, then followed the narrow road to the overlook. Mary Jane’s small beige Jeep sat parked to the left of the stairs leading to the beach. I was surprised she’d arrived so quickly. Then again, she hadn’t mentioned her location when she’d called.

I pulled into a slot, threw my purse under the driver’s seat, then shoved my keys into my left jeans pocket. My right pocket quivered under the weight and activity of the faery stone. I wondered if anyone could see it move beneath the denim. I wondered if the entire thing was only my imagination. I was no longer sure. I’d need a trip to Mobile and the nearest shrink when all this was over, no matter what Mags said about shamans and wounded healers. I clearly wasn’t cut out for this stuff.

Still grumbling, I put my hand on the railing of the stairs and descended to the beach. The hot sand crunched beneath my boots as I walked toward a clump of trees a few yards away. Good thing I hadn’t worn my usual tennis shoes or sandals. My boots strode smoothly through the sand, my feet free from the usual irritation of filled shoes.

I neared the small grove, but I didn’t see Mary Jane. I’d felt sure she’d come here to wait, particularly since she’d been so keen to avoid the attention of reporters. I walked through the trees, drawing a deep, grateful breath for their cool shade on a hot day.

A crack of fallen tree limbs sounded behind me. I turned, hoping to see Mary Jane approach. Instead, a strong arm encircled my throat from behind and dragged me backward. My feet kicked the sand as I clawed at the binding arm, unable to breathe. I’d never felt anything so powerful. Whoever this guy was, he made the Mega Mover men look like weaklings. My mind raced, searching for a way out. I dug my nails into the arm, grimacing as a warm trickle of blood flowed under my fingertips. The man apparently felt no pain. He continued to drag me, until at last we were in the deepest part of the grove, near the dunes. He threw me to the sand, hard enough to knock the last gasp from my lungs.

“You bitch,” a voice said over me.

I struggled for air until at last the blackness and stars glittering at the edge of my vision cleared. I pulled in a full breath, then coughed. I rolled over to face the man hovering over me. What I saw filled me with dismay.

Becca Nelson, a dappled mix of sun and shadow on her loose, dark hair. The black goth outfit she’d worn to the party still hung from her small, angular shoulders. A silver knife glinted in the filtered light as she moved it from one hand to another, like a hunter savoring the moment.

She glared at me, her eyes encircled with black kohl and her lips painted a deep purple–red. “I thought you’d changed. Mother and I let you into our lives, into our hearts. You’d been sanctified by my brother. But you chose to defile yourself. You desecrated the shrine of his love. Now you must be cleansed. Purified.” The knife swung back and forth in Becca’s hand. Drops of blood seeped from the small cuts I’d made with my nails in her skin. She paid them no heed.

I wanted to moan out loud when I heard her words, but I held my breath. Desecrated the shrine. Finnian’s warning instantly filled my head. He’d told me distinctly–find the person who speaks of the desecrated shine, and you’ll have Brian’s killer. Becca, with a long, dangerous blade in her hand.

“Becca.” I whispered. I cleared my throat as best I could. “What are you doing? Where’s your mother?”

Becca’s head whipped toward the road, then she returned her gaze to me. “Her. I’ve put her off track. She’ll never find me here.”

I withheld the information that Mary Jane was on her way right now. My only hope. I had to keep Becca talking. I pushed myself to my elbows, then rolled to the right. She spun toward me, the knife nimble in her hands.

“Don’t move.” She edged closer, the knife near my throat. “You whore. You must be cleansed. I can administer it. Don’t you understand?”

I shook my head, trying for a repentant look. I had to keep her occupied and that knife away from me, until her mother could arrive. “Please, Becca, help me. What have I done? I want to understand what sins I’ve committed.”

She stood, her expression puzzled. “Sins? Oh, no. They are much more than sins.” She walked in a slow circle around me, nodding her head rhythmically as if some strange, internal music held her in its grip.

I tensed, unable to keep her in my line of sight. I’d have to trust my instincts and avoid any alarming behavior that could propel her into action. I gripped two handfuls of sand in each palm, prepared to use them for a diversion. A millisecond of reprieve might be all they could buy me, but it could make the difference between coming out of this alive or in a body bag. I turned my head to look at Becca, but she bent low and shouted at me.

“Eyes front!” She continued her circle, her gaze cold and calculating as she passed me to the right. “We must begin the purification.”

“Tell me first. I can’t be purified if I don’t understand why.”

Becca nodded, then paused in front of me. “True. I will tell you.” She drew in a breath, then stared straight ahead. Her eyes glazed over as she recalled her story. I thought to crawl away, but then decided against it. She stood too close. I’d have to wait until she began to pace again. My heart beat hard in my chest, the roar of blood in my ears deafening. Hold on, I told myself. Don’t let go.

“When Sean brought you to our home the first time, I hated you. Did you know that? We all did. Our beautiful, special Sean, choosing to spend his time with a used–up slut like you. It galled us. I used to lie in bed at night, imagining him joining his body with yours. Taking your dirt and slime onto him.” She shivered, the knife dangling a bit from her fingers. “I could have made him happy. It shouldn’t be illegal for brothers and sisters, you know. That’s the natural way, not like this. Not like with you.” She turned her gaze to me, unstable fire behind her eyes.

I pulled away from her a couple of inches. “Becca, I–”

“Shut up! You asked for it, so you will hear it all.” She swung the knife in my direction to illustrate her point. I froze, the sand in my hands crystallizing into firm clods. She wasn’t simply angry. She’d passed that stage a long time ago. Derangement ruled her. I cut my gaze to the left, praying for the sound of Mary Jane’s car. All I heard was the crash of the waves.

“But then, after Sean died, Mother decided to forgive you. She said you really loved Sean, and that we should honor his memory by opening our arms to you. I didn’t think so, but Mama convinced me. We treated you like family. I thought you realized how special you’d become, because of him. I thought you knew that because Sean loved you, you were reborn to a new life. A life where you would preserve his glory, forever. I thought you understood. I was happy.”

She crouched next to me, the knife in her hand hovering over the sand. “But then you did it. I saw you. Do you hear me? I saw you.”

My stomach sank as I instinctively knew what words lingered on the tip of her tongue. I lowered my head. “Brian,” I whispered.

“Yes!” Becca’s sharp voice sent my chin snapping upward. I looked into her eyes as the madness crept higher inside her. “Brian Miller. I saw you with him one night. I followed you both from the bar, that den of iniquity where you flaunt your body like a prostitute. I thought you’d leave that job, that you’d realize how much your actions defiled you. But you didn’t. I began to wait there every night, parked in the shadows, to follow you, to make sure you didn’t return to your whoring ways. Then I saw him. And you. It was vile, evil.” She put a hand to her stomach, her mouth twisted. “I saw him put his hands on you, kiss you, touch your breasts. Then you took him to your home, you let him into your room. I climbed the lattice work on the house to your balcony. I had to see if it was true. Then I saw it.”

She rose to her feet and began to pace again, her hands agitated with anger. The knife slipped and sliced the inside of her arm, releasing a fresh current of blood. She ignored it, lost in her memory. I edged away another few inches, refilling my hands with loose sand. Maybe I could blind her long enough to make a run for it. It was possible.

“I saw you both, in your bed. Filthy. Horrible. He desecrated the shrine. He entered the holy temple of Brian’s love and defiled it. He had to die.” She swung her gaze to me. “You let him enter. You did not protect the sacred. You must be purified. It’s the only way to restore Sean’s love to its holy place.” She reached down and grabbed my hair, her hold so strong that she literally dragged me to my feet in one pull. I cried out from the pain, but her hold only tightened.

“I don’t want to do this, Izzy.” She blinked a few times, her eyes soft and dewy. “Help me.” Her voice quavered with emotion as her grip on my hair slackened.

My hopes rose. I reached out for her. “Becca, it’s all right. Don’t worry. We can–”

Suddenly, her gaze grew cold and hard. I pulled my hand away as her eyes shifted from their normal sky blue color to a dark, angry cobalt. Her expression shifted, the bones of her face becoming more pronounced. It was as if another personality waged war inside her, to conquer her will. She yanked my hair hard, pulling me toward her. “No. There’s no other way. Purfication can only come by death. I’d burn you or hang you, like they did the witches in old times. That might be fun. But this is enough.” She lifted the knife over our heads, then cried out in a loud voice. “Be cleansed!”

I screamed and twisted my body to the right. I threw the sand I held in my hands, but her hold on my hair allowed her to spin me like a puppet. She lifted the knife again, a triumphant cry on her lips. Oh, God, I was going to die. In an instant, I saw everything and everyone I cared for rush through my mind. Sellie, the girls, Eric. All gone.

“No!” I screamed. I swung my leg in a desperate kick and connected hard with Becca’s left knee. She released my hair with an unearthly howl, then fell to the sand. My chance arrived. I scrambled to my feet and ran, darting through the trees.

Despite the pain, Becca recovered quickly, her feet quick in pursuit. She screamed with a deep, rumbling voice that didn’t belong to the Becca I’d known. “You can’t escape me! You’re mine!”

Adrenalin hurled through my veins. I made it past the grove and onto the main beach. The beach stood deserted as usual, unpopular due to its nearness to malodorous backwater. The loose sand sucked at my feet. I pushed harder. I glanced behind me, shocked to see how rapidly Becca had closed the gap between us. I swung my face to the front, pumping my arms for more speed.

I almost screamed with relief when I saw Mary Jane descending the stairs. In her hands, she held a hunting rifle. Oh, thank God. I ran toward her, my lungs begging for air.

“Mary! Jane! Stop her!”

I threw myself at Becca’s mother’s feet, panting and clawing the sand. She reached down and smoothed my hair, then gently pulled me to stand beside her.

“I’m so sorry, Izzy. I really, truly am.”

Then she lifted the rifle and held it to my heart.

It took several seconds for my stunned brain to react. “No. Mary Jane. Becca, she’s insane. Help me.”

Becca strode toward us, a bright smile on her face. “Well, well, Mother. Welcome to the party.”

Mary Jane cut her gaze to her daughter, but her hold on the rifle held firm. “I’m not a part of what you’ve done, Becca. I’m trying to save you.”

Becca laughed and crossed her arms. “Really, Mother? I don’t want to be saved. But I appreciate the help.” She lifted her arm and pointed at me. “Go ahead. Shoot her.”

“No!” I stepped back, but Mary Jane advanced with me. “What are you doing? She killed Brian! We have to stop her!”

Mary Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “I know she killed Brian.”

My mouth shut at this news, a cold cloud of terror seeping into my bones.

“She’d been so strange since Sean died. It got even worse when her Daddy died in April. I didn’t know her anymore.” Mary Jane sniffled, the tired lines of her face evident in the sunlight. “We lied to you that night, Izzy. She didn’t leave the house after hearing about the murder. I’d been searching for her all night, tracking her like a deer. I finally found her, standing over Brian’s body with a knife in her hand. She’s sick, Izzy. I can’t let her go to jail. I can’t let them take her. She’s all I have left.” Mary Jane’s voice broke in a sob. “Don’t you see?”

Fear drained the blood from my body, but I forced out the words. “But why kill me? I love you both. I wouldn’t tell. I promise.”

Mary Jane sniffed, then lifted her head. “Of course you would. You and your sister, you’d tell. It was only a matter of time before one of you would use your voodoo powers and see who’d done it.” She shook her head, snorting in disgust. “I couldn’t control her that night. I took her from the parking lot, before anyone saw her. But she jumped out of my car and took off running. I was going fifty–five, Izzy, but she didn’t have a scratch on her. I don’t understand. I searched for her, then figured she’d run back to the murder scene. She put on a good show, so I went along with it. But I knew she’d be exposed. I saw you and your sister that night. One of you would find out. I have to kill you both, to save my baby.” She lifted the gun higher on my chest. “I tried to kill you at the party. Had you in my sights. But I missed. I hit that man and the old lady. Didn’t mean to. Still have to kill you. Still have to kill your sister. The only way.” She lifted the gun to her chin, taking aim.

I put up my hands, my brain shifting from logical thought and into pure, connected intuition. “It isn’t the only way! You said she jumped from a speeding car without a scratch on her. That’s not possible for a human. She isn’t just Becca. She’s–“ Without even realizing it, the part of the puzzle I’d been missing flew into my mind. “She’s the Entity.”

“What?” Mary Jane lowered the gun just an inch and glanced at Becca.

Becca rolled back on her heels, her hands clasped behind her. “It certainly took you long enough to figure it out. You never were the bright one, Isuelt. Selene has so much more wisdom and experience than you. A worthy adversary. You, a mere flash in the pan.” The Entity’s voice, deep and smooth like a snifter of brandy, flowed out of Becca’s tiny, dark–rimmed mouth.

Mary Jane lowered the gun, her eyes wide.

Becca laughed. “What’s the matter, Mommy? Missing your baby girl? Sorry, but I’ve greatly enjoyed the space she provided for me.” Becca’s hands lifted, caressing her flat belly like a lover. “I haven’t been a woman in some time. Very pleasurable. This body is so responsive, sleek, smooth. She’s like a cat with needle–sharp claws. Yes, from the moment when she whispered those words I love the most -- ’I’ll do anything to make them pay’ -- she was mine. I took residence in her body. It’s been a wild ride.”

Becca grinned, lifting her gaze to Mary Jane. “I appreciate the help in killing the MacPhersons. But I’d rather do it myself, if you don’t mind.” With that, Becca’s hand flung out, the silver stiletto knife flying through the air and lodging deep in Mary Jane’s shoulder.

Mary Jane screamed in pain. The rifle fell to her feet. I sprang forward to grab it, but Becca moved faster, fueled with the entity’s energy. Her bare foot kicked the gun away. I threw myself into the sand toward it, unwilling to give up. She laughed and kicked me hard in the side, doubling me over with pain. I clutched my belly as I watched her pick up the rifle, then wipe sand from the barrel.

“Poor, silly Isuelt. You think you can defeat me? Your sister thought so, too. But even the power of the sea couldn’t crush me. I left Richard Swann’s body just before his heart ceased to beat. He wasn’t much good to me with his internal organs smashed. Even I need a functional body to re–animate. Yet I wasn’t deterred. I lay low, watching, waiting. Planning my ultimate revenge.” Becca began to circle me again, her pace slow and deliberate as she strolled around my prone form.

I lay still, my body curled in the fetal position. My mind began to clear with each breath that I took, unfolding like a rosebud in the sun. I stilled my rat cage of a brain and focused on listening intently to the Entity. Eventually I realized his fatal flaw. He liked to hear himself talk.

I could use that.

“What do you mean, the ultimate revenge?” I curled tighter into a ball, to further the impression of weakness and injury.

Becca smiled, her strange face brightening. “Ah, yes. Let me share it with you. It is quite the torturous event that I have planned for your sister.” Becca lifted her chin and laughed. “Killing Selene isn’t enough. Too brief, too quick. A few stabs in the right places and she’s off to the Summerland and her just reward. No, thank you. Better to kill her slowly, day by day. Bit by bit. That’s why I decided to inhabit Becca, you see. I’d decided to begin with you.”

“What?” I cut my gaze to Becca, refilling my hands with sand. I’d get a better shot this time. I had to.

“Of course. Who would you least expect? Sean’s dear, dear sister, the tiny and virginal Becca Nelson. The girl you feel duty bound to protect at all cost, the one that brings out all those revolting motherly instincts in you. I’m surprised you have them, by the way. I’d think that you were built for speed, not for comfort.” Becca laughed, amused by her jibe. “Becca was the perfect body to inhabit, to get close enough to you for the kill. No one would suspect the poor, sad sister of a murder victim. Delicious, isn’t it? The despair I created in her when I killed her brother is the very avenue I used to possess her. I love it. Quite ironic.”

Becca paused by the fallen body of her mother and pulled the knife from her shoulder. The sick, sucking sound of the blade as it slid back into Becca’s hand made my stomach lurch, but I tamped down my reaction.

“Then why kill Brian? He’s not a MacPherson.”

“Ah, an unexpected problem inside this body, I suppose. The girl had quite the hatred for Brian, particularly since he’d been having relations with you. She seemed to take it quite personally. Just to be fair, I decided to let her have her kill. Besides, I rather enjoyed it. A singular pleasure, coming along for the ride instead of guiding my host to murder. Of course, seeing you and your sister at the crime scene, the sad suffering in your eyes, was a definite plus.” Becca paused beside me, the rifle perched on her hip like a hunter. She slipped the bloody knife into the belt of her pants. “But on with my story. I’m not going to kill Selene.”

I breathed a short sigh of relief. As long as she lived, there would be a chance to vanquish this evil. She’d come close the first time. She wouldn’t miss again.

“I won’t kill her first. I’ll kill her last.” Becca grinned, a look of satisfaction on her face. “I’ll fulfill her worst nightmares. First I’ll kill you. Slowly, painfully. I’ll make sure she can see in her visions every single thing I did to you. Then I’ll do the same to Steph. Melissa. Your Aunt Mags. Sarabeth. Janell. And finally, her beloved Adrian, who by then will be in a panic because he couldn’t stop the killings. Oh, don’t you love it? No matter where they go, where they hide, I’d follow. As long as desperate, angry people exist, I’ll have a home. I can track them. And I can kill them.”

“No,” I moaned, lifting my gaze to what was once Becca. “You don’t have to do this.”

Becca shook her head at me indulgently. “Ah, dear Isuelt. Of course I do. It’s my way. Haven’t you figured that out? This is why I exist. I’ve been at it for hundreds of years. Centuries of marvelous, creative, magnificent deaths. Large scale, small scale. All the same to me. The end result is what I crave. And it’s time for the next round. ”

She bent forward and grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. I glanced around me, taking a few precious seconds to scour the area for a weapon. I saw it. Before the Entity could stop me, I threw my body forward toward the wooden stairs. The bottom step of the staircase hung in splinters, the salty sea air eating away at the integrity of the pine. I landed hard on the step, the force of my fall breaking the last bit of resistance in the wood.

Becca laughed, then grabbed my ankle and heaved my body toward her. “I’ll have to give you credit, Isuelt. You might not be as smart as your sister, but you’ve got the same amount of guts. Come here, little redbird.” Becca laughed again as she dragged me on my belly.

The last drag of my body was my cue for action. I swung around, the length of stair clutched tight in my hand. I hit Becca square in the left temple, the crunch of bone beneath the wood sickening me. She fell like a rock onto the sand, blood pouring from the wound.

I rolled onto my backside and dropped the wood beside me. I kicked at Becca’s body, but there was no movement. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. The rifle lay pinned beneath her.

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the butt of the rifle, using what strength I had left to dislodge the weapon. I could barely move her. It was as if she weighed a thousand pounds. Her head flopped around as I desperately pulled at the rifle. The blood flowed from the wound in her temple and pooled beneath her head. Suddenly the wound began to bubble, the blood flowing faster from the jagged slash. I dropped the rifle and backed away. A foul, fetid, strangely sweet odor filtered from the cut, like the smell of rotting fish. No, worse. It was the smell of human decay. I covered my mouth and nose, choking on the stench.

Within moments, the foul smell began to take form. A dark, billowing cloud, heavy and wet with slime, formed over Becca’s body. It didn’t have shape, yet it held a presence. I backed away another step, even thought I sensed escape was impossible. This was the Entity in its truest form. The cloud billowed higher. Then I heard its voice, loud and insistent in my head.

“Interesting. The girl is unconscious, but not dead. Her human will continues to oppose me, even though she’s inactive. I must leave her or remain entrapped by her resistance.” The voice chuckled menacingly. “Wise move. If you’d killed her, the way your sister killed Swann, then I’d be free to re–enter her body and proceed without limit. Oh, well. As it is, Isuelt, I have other ways to end your life.” The cloud swirled, towering a few feet over me like a thunderhead. I moved backward, unable to drag my eyes from the horror. I felt frozen, numb. I’d failed. It was over.

“Izzy!”

I swung my gaze toward the frantic voice in the distance. Eric stood at the top of the overlook stairs, his face white with fright.

“Run, Eric! Save yourself!” I continued to retreat from the murky cloud, my feet dragging in the thick, loose sand. It followed me, the top of it curving now like a cresting wave.

“Izzy!” Eric yelled again. “Listen to me! The old lady says to believe! Do you hear me? Believe!”

The word echoed in my brain, pushing aside my terror. Believe. Believe? The faery stone in my pocket shook hard, as if a hand had reached inside the denim and given my hip a good shove. I grabbed the stone and pulled it out, my mind no longer operating on an earthly level. Something else moved inside me, a part of my mind and spirit I’d never touched before. I knew what to do. I didn’t know what it would bring, but it was the only hope. Finnian had said so.

I threw the stone onto the sand in front of me, between me and the Entity. The words flew from my lips.

“Arise, great warriors, hear my plea! Soldiers of the Sidhe, come to me! Vanquish the evil, contain the cause! Come forth to enforce the Mother’s Laws! By Land, Sea, Sky and the transforming Fire, bring into being what I desire!”

A bright shaft of light burst from the center of the stone. The dark cloud pulled away from it, splitting into two at the top as the light touched it. The thick mist howled in anger as it rolled away. Then it headed toward the sea.

The light grew brighter as it spread. Then from the center of the brilliance, Finnian and his brother emerged, both on horseback. They unsheathed their swords, then rode hard upon the cloud. The cloud moved faster toward the sea, but the hooves of the horses flew over the sand. With a loud cry, Finnian’s brother pierced the cloud with his sword. The bulbous mass screamed. This time I didn’t perceive it with only my inner hearing, but with my physical. I slapped my palms over my ears, shutting out the thundering shriek.

Finnian rode alongside his brother, then lifted his sword in a swinging strike to take the cloud from the side. Another loud screech. Then slowly, the cloud began to disintegrate. Bit by bit, it curled and sank back into itself, writhing like a wounded animal. At last it fell to the beach, a small, sodden lump of dark brown.

I fell to my knees, unable to believe what I’d seen. Finnian leapt from his horse, then pulled a small silver box from his shirt. He bent down next to the lump, then gently tipped it into the box. He stood, snapping the box shut and twisting a key in its lock. He held the box and its key in his palm, then muttered a few words over them. They disappeared, fading away as I had seen my guide do, many times before.

Finnian lifted his gaze to me and smiled. I pulled myself to my feet and ran across the beach, throwing myself into his arms.

“My Isuelt, my Isuelt,” he whispered, his voice familiar and precious to my ears. “You remembered. You chose well.”

I released him, then turned toward the beach. Eric approached, his eyes wide and his mouth slack.

I turned to Finnian. “He can see you, can’t he.”

Finnian grinned. “Yes. You will have much to explain, Isuelt. As does he, to you. Allow him to do so, if you wish for your destiny to continue as it is.” Finnian touched my nose teasingly with his fingertip. “Your guide speaks.”

“I understand.” I glanced at his brother, towering over us astride his warhorse, then back at him. “You aren’t leaving me, are you?”

“No. You have much more to learn. It is my job to teach you. I, too, have a destiny. To be with you as your guide. This I accept, without hesitation.” He nodded to his brother, then lifted himself into the seat of his horse. “I return now briefly, to bid peace to my people. To your people, Isuelt. Have you a word for them?”

I lifted my gaze to him. “Tell them I’ve come home.”

His answering smile lifted my heart. “I will do so. Be blessed, my student.” He lifted his hand in farewell, then turned his gaze to Eric. “And you. Bear in mind what you hold. Guard her well, love her fully. This I charge you. Do not betray it.”

Eric swallowed hard, his gaze locked on Finnian. “Yes.”

Finnian nodded. He and his brother spurred their horses, then rode across the beach toward the light of the faery stone. The light spread to encompass them, then sucked back into the hole, closing off with the same loud “pop” I’d heard before.

I walked toward the stone, then picked it up. The smooth, cool surface had returned, as if nothing had happened. I lifted my face to the wind and took a deep, full breath. They were gone. So was the Entity. Our physical world, even our earthly magic, didn’t have the power to defeat him. But evil, even one as great as he, held no challenge to the power of the Otherworld.

Thank Goddess for that.

Eric stood beside me, the wind whipping his hair over his forehead. He motioned to Mary Jane and Becca, still flat on the sand. “What about them?”

I walked toward them, then bent to feel their pulses. Both were still alive. I looked up at Eric. “We’ll have to call the police. They might have been deranged, but people are dead because of them. Even Becca chose on her own to kill Brian. They need help.”

Eric pulled out a cell phone, then jabbed at the numbers. “No go. I can’t get this thing to work down here.”

“There’s a pay phone at the overlook.” I took Eric’s cell phone from him, then stuck it in his shirt pocket. “You’ll need to sign up for local service.”

Eric turned toward me. “You mean, I might have some reason to stick around here?”

I shrugged and focused on controlling my emotions. “I don’t know. What do you want?”

He moved closer to me, his body barely touching mine. The same familiar shimmer of energy rose between us. Strange how it didn’t disturb me any longer.

“What I want is to investigate building a life with you. Now. Tomorrow. For as long as you want me.”

I glanced up at him, then looked away. “We have a lot to discuss. A lot to explain. Wanting might not be enough.”

He put his hands in his pockets. “We’ll only know if we try. Give me a chance, Izzy.”

I lifted my leg over the broken bottom step of the beach staircase, then pulled myself up. “We’ll see.”

I climbed another step before an insistent thought stopped me. I turned to Eric, my heart racing. “Wait. Before, when you arrived here. You yelled, ‘The old lady says to believe.’ What old lady? No one else is here.”

Eric glanced around the beach as he climbed the steps beside me. “I don’t know. She disappeared. She was right next to me when I called out to you. Didn’t you see her?”

I shook my head and pulled away from him in puzzlement. “No. You were alone.”

Eric turned toward the beach again, then looked up at the overlook. “She was here. A little white–haired woman in a long violet dress. She popped up right in front of me. I almost ran her over.”

A glimmer of recognition sparked in me. I held my breath, a tiny spark of joy igniting my spirit. “Eric,” I said, taking his arm. “Did she have anything more about her that caught your attention?”

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding. “Her scent. Really strong and strange, like–”

“Lilac bath powder,” I whispered, my eyes filling with grateful tears.

“Yes.” Eric took me in his arms and held me close to his chest. “Who is she?”

I put my arms around his back and held on tight. “My grandmother. She came to help me. To remind me the most important ingredient of all.”

“I’d like to see her again,” Eric murmured against my hair.

I sniffled and nodded. “You can. I’ll teach you to journey.”

Eric pulled away and gave me a quizzical look. “Journey?”

I smiled, then led the way up the stairs as the first patrol car arrived. “Don’t worry. It’s a trip you won’t want to miss.”

EPILOGUE

“You’re the most beautiful woman alive.”

Selene laughed, then threw her arms around me in a hug. “I’m only beautiful because I’m happy. Wasn’t it the most glorious day?”

I pulled away from my sister and held her at arm’s length. “It was. And you deserve it, Sellie. More than anyone I know.”

Selene’s answering smile lit up her eyes. “Oh, stop. You’re going to make me cry again. I won’t have any mascara left!”

“It doesn’t matter. Adrian can’t see anything but you.” I waved as Adrian approached behind her. “In fact, here’s the man himself.”

Adrian embraced Selene, then bent to kiss her cheek. They were resplendent in their formal attire. Adrian cut a tall, dashing figure in his black tuxedo. But Selene in her long white silk gown, edged with tiny seed pearls at the neckline and cuffs, outshone even the Fae. Her long dark hair, arranged in curls, lay covered beneath a sheer, fingertip veil. A sparkling circlet of white roses held it tight. She looked like a medieval princess to me. Maybe in another life, she’d been someone famous? Only the Otherworld knew.

“You’re looking quite lovely yourself, you know,” Selene said, reaching out to caress the sleeve of my gown. “You’re a beautiful maid of honor.”

I looked down and spread the forest green silk dress beneath my hands. I gave Selene a teasing grin. “Good choice for me. I look like a tree spirit.”

Selene nodded. “I’m glad you think so. I chose it because that’s what you are.”

I looked up at her and smiled. A lot had happened in the past three months, since those tense days in June. Selene and Adrian postponed their wedding, saving the festivities for more sane times. A wise move, since the ensuing crush of police, reporters, and the curious turned Fort Bedford once again into a macabre tourist trap for the rest of the summer.

Mary Jane and Becca survived their injuries. They were presently in jail under psychiatric evaluation. Though the Entity had enjoyed Becca’s anger and obsession with me, she’d chosen to kill Brian alone. The Entity had allowed it as a gift. Mary Jane had sought to protect her daughter, but in the worst possible way. Their stories to the state police about desecration, shrines, visions, and the MacPherson witches raised a few eyebrows, but it guaranteed they received mental health care. Marty was set free not long after Mary Jane and Becca were placed under arrest. He turned over a new leaf after that, to the relief of the townspeople. Amazing what a few days in the slammer will do for a man.

I mourned for Brian, for what he’d chosen and what he’d lost. I even asked for illumination for Liaci’s soul, despite his contemptibility. No one deserved to die like that. Yet I suppose what happened was a matter of getting back in death what he’d dished out in life. No one escaped the Law of Return.

The state police questioned me, Selene, Adrian, and Eric extensively. They came to the conclusion that while we were innocent of crimes, we were definitely a bit strange. That’s when Selene’s old friend, Lieutenant Andrews, stepped in and vouched for us. His support made the difference.

We’d left out the part about the Entity in our official statements, just as Selene had done before. Becca had little memory of any of the things she’d done, including the influence of the Entity. Mary Jane never saw the evil inhabiting her daughter. She only knew that Becca had lost her way. She’d eventually joined her. Every morning when I greeted the sunrise, I said a few words of healing for both mother and daughter. Sean would have liked that. Sean, whose memory I’d finally released into the Otherworld with a farewell kiss.

“Are you all right?” Selene reached forward to stroke my cheek. “Have you heard anything from Eric?”

I put my hand over hers, but I didn’t force a smile. I was done denying my emotions. My new motto was “what you see is what you get.” Or maybe, “take me as I am.”

“No. Not since he went to New York to meet with his publisher and agent.”

Selene’s face fell. “I’m so sorry, Izzy.”

I nodded, allowing the momentary pain to pass through me. “I’ll be all right.” I stepped forward and gave them both a shove toward the dance floor. “Go on now! Dance the night away. It’s your wedding reception. People are waiting to adore you.”

The happy couple laughed, then Adrian took Selene in his arms and began to spin her around in a waltz. They looked exquisite together. A dream come true.

I walked toward the side exit, almost to the door, when Mags approached. I hugged her tight, happy to see her. As usual, she stood dressed in her purple party best from head to toe.

“Izzy–girl,” she said, patting my shoulders. “You’re not leaving, are you? Still lots of party to enjoy. But don’t forget, we have a lesson set for tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t miss it. I’m glad you’ve moved to Fort Bedford, Mags. You belong here by the sea. With us.”

Mags lifted her chin and smiled. “I belong anywhere I’m needed.” Then her posture softened. “I’m glad to be with my family.”

“Have some fun, Mags. Watch that shoulder while break dancing,” I gave her old wound a gentle touch. She laughed, then marched toward the dance floor, her violet skirts swaying to the music.

I turned away and walked to the side exit of the rented hall. I pushed the door open, then stepped into the night. The sound of the ocean was deafening in the evening quiet. I took a long, deep breath of the sea air. Then I opened my evening bag and pulled out my cigarette pack. I lit up and sucked in a lungful of aromatic smoke.

Fresh sea air and my ciggies. I know. It doesn’t make sense. I never said I’d completely evolve. I had, however, made a few changes. I worked at Casey’s only on the weekends now, mostly for sentimental reasons. I finally convinced Frank to change the stupid uniforms, to the relief of Mar and Stacy. In my daytime hours I managed Selene’s Nemeton, to the delight of my sister whose time had been stretched too thin. The combination of my new ideas with her business savvy increased the shop’s profits, enough to lead Selene to make another crucial change. She made me the owner. It was Isuelt’s Faery Ring now. Selene offered tarot readings by appointment, and over time, I’d begun to aid people spiritually as well. The Faery Doctor was on call. Selene and I had finally found the equality we’d missed for so many years.

Without a doubt, I’d come a long way since June. At least in some respects. I lowered my head as Eric’s image entered my mind.

He’d explained why he’d hidden the facts from me about the book he’d originally planned to write. He’d come to Fort Bedford to investigate his doubts about the real killer in the Missing Fingers Murders. He’d planned an expose on my role in the murders, the history of my family, and the possibility that we’d set up some kind of weird occult murder spree, targeting young men as our victims. Bestseller material.

Good Goddess. I blew out a long stream of smoke. The thought that he’d entertained those ideas, even briefly, still had the power to turn my stomach. And yet, he hadn’t known me then. I’d only been “a person of interest.” A faceless concept.

He said that from the moment he met me, his views began to transform. He realized that he’d been crucially wrong in all of his assumptions. The longer he spent time with me, the surer he became that I was something else entirely. Something good, bright, and precious.

I understood this. I accepted his pleas of apology. I held him in my arms and told him it was all right. And yet, I couldn’t let go of the words I’d seen scrawled on those papers beneath my name. Black widow. Murderer. I wanted to forget. I couldn’t make it happen.

I’d explained to him what he’d seen on the beach. The Fae, the Entity, the stone of light. I opened a world to him that he’d previously viewed as imaginary, or at least a created excuse for strange behavior. This isn’t Harry Potter, I’d told him. This is reality. He’d done his best to catch up, to let go, to believe.

It hadn’t been enough. Neither of us could bridge the gap created by the way we’d begun our relationship. When his publisher demanded he make an appearance in New York, he’d kissed me goodbye and swore that he’d call as soon as he could.

That was two weeks ago.

I blew out another cloud of smoke, then threw down the cigarette and snuffed it with my foot. The bejeweled pumps Selene insisted I wear were lovely, but I preferred bare feet on soft sand. I kicked off my shoes and stepped out onto the beach. Surely no one would mind if I took a little walk to clear my head.

The full moon over the ocean drew my attention. I paused in the darkness and asked for its light to fill me with peace, with truth, with the touch of the Goddess. I stood still, my eyes closed. I waited for the sweet movement of energy. Instead, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Izzy. I’m sorry I’m late.”

I turned and looked up into Eric’s dark cinnamon eyes, barely visible in the moonlight. My heart leapt to see him, but I turned away.

“Yeah. You’re really late. Like, two weeks. Doesn’t matter.” I walked away from him, my shoes dangling in my hand. The tide rolled in, wetting the hem of my gown. I didn’t care. I only wanted the peace and truth I’d asked the Lady to give me. Where was it?

Eric followed, then fell into step beside me. “I know you’re angry. I had to get away. I had to decide what I really wanted, what I was ready to embrace. I know that now.”

I looked out at the sea, trying to ignore the pleasure flowing through every bone in my body, just to have him near me, to hear his voice again. “How nice for you.”

Eric stopped and turned my shoulders toward him. “Listen to me. I’ve spent my life alone, afraid to let anyone come close. I stayed isolated, so the disaster with my father could never happen again. You’ve surrounded yourself with people, yet you’ve kept your heart secured inside a box. We both chose safety over love. I don’t want to do that anymore.”

I tried to pull away, but his grasp on my shoulders held me still.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a fool, Izzy. I’m not perfect. I have an entire library of flaws, all of them unique and maddening.”

A grin I couldn’t suppress lifted the corner of my lips. “I have quite a collection myself.”

Eric smiled, his hands caressing my shoulders. “I know. I love them all, too. In fact, I love you, without limit. I know what I want. Marry me, Izzy.”

I didn’t respond. I only stared at him, my mouth open in stunned astonishment.

He gave me a playful shake. “C’mon. What do you say? With all our horrible flaws, who else would have us but each other?” He grinned, but then his expression sobered. “What else can I say to implore you? We’re a couple of puzzle pieces, you and I. Interesting and quirky on our own. But when we’re fitted together, we create something beautiful. Marry me, Izzy. Make something beautiful with me.”

At that moment, I felt the brush of soft fur across my calves. I looked down as Finnian nosed his way around the edge of my gown. He looked up at me, his eyes full of bright stars.

“You asked for peace and truth, my Isuelt. The touch of Goddess. Her touch is love.” He crossed over and rubbed against Eric’s pant leg. “The Mother never denies her children.”

I lifted my gaze to Eric’s gentle, hopeful face. Here was love. I’d almost missed it. I could believe. I could choose.

“Yes, Eric. I’ll marry you.”

“Oh, God, Izzy!” Eric threw his arms around me, then spun like a top in the sand. He tripped and fell backward into the sea, taking me with him. We screamed when the cold waves hit us, but it wasn’t a cry of pain. It was a shout of joy. We’d rejoined the world. One single, powerful, glorious choice had set us free.

We crawled to the sand, laughing as we fell in a heap at the edge of the water.

I lifted my hand to caress his cheek as he leaned over me. “Hey. I think we’ve been like this before.”

He smiled, then leaned close to my ear. “I wanted you then. I’ll want you forever, Izzy.”

“You’d better,” I replied, lifting my head to kiss him playfully. Then suddenly, the energy around us shifted, taking on a light, gossamer quality. The ocean breeze wrapped around us, enclosing us in a moment so ethereal, I knew I could not let it pass. I put my hand on his heart and looked deeply into his eyes.

“I want you, Eric. In this world and in the Otherworld, until the end of time.” I swallowed, then said the words that frightened me most. Until now. “I love you.”

Eric put his hand over mine, his eyes shimmering. “See. Told you. We create something beautiful.”

I smiled. “That’s the real magic.”

Eric stood and lifted me to my feet. He picked me up in his arms, then began to walk across the sand toward the hall.

“How are we going to explain to your sister about our wet clothes?”

I put my arms around his neck and laughed. “She’ll think it’s normal for us. That’s the benefit of being known for blissful imperfection.”

“What a deal. “ Eric laughed, then turned to kiss me.

I hugged him close, joy overwhelming my heart. No more illusions, no more Seven of Cups. This man, this love, was truth.

“Hey, by the way, Iz?”

“What?”

Eric lifted one eyebrow. “Did you see that white cat on the beach? Very strange. One minute he wasn’t there, and then–”

Eighties Dance music flowed over us as Eric set me on my feet and opened the door to the hall. I pulled his wet jacket around his chest, then smiled up at him. “I’ll explain later, honey. For now, let’s boogie.”

I took one glance over my shoulder as we walked into the hall, met by the joyous cries of our family and friends. Finnian sat on the sand, moonlight on his white fur like a mantle of glistening snow. He lifted one delicate paw and took a long, slow lick. Then he turned his face to me.

“I’ll be here,” he whispered.