. . . too good for words, so I’ll wait and let you meet him.”
Maggie stiffened. Nora goes away for a five-day trip, finds a man and brings him home with her? Adventurous. Maggie felt more plodding than ever. “He’s coming home with you?”
“ Yes. He wants to meet Eileen and see where I live. Oh, Maggie, I think he could be the one. His name is Quinn, and he’s gorgeous, and ohmigod, the sex is planet-shifting wonderful!”
“ Sex ? You’ve already had sex with him?” A woman dragging a screaming toddler behind her stopped dead and stared at Maggie. “I wasn’t talking to you,” she snapped, and went back to her sister, the romantic risk taker. “I can’t believe you, Nora. You hardly know this guy. Taking chances is one thing, but—”
“Our souls recognized each other.”
“Nora . . .”
“Honestly, Maggie, you’ve got to crawl out from under your rock once in a while.”
She’d been thinking the same thing herself a few minutes ago, but now . . .
“No more about Quinn,” her sister said. “Trust me, you’ll understand when you meet him. So anyway, the drum festival was amazing. We all sat out under the stars last night. Blistering cold, but it was gorgeous. And Quinn kept me warm.”
Maggie rolled her neck on her shoulders, stretching while her sister kept talking.
“Weeping Buffalo—he’s our guide for this trip—says that tonight there’ll be an eclipse.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”
“Well, we won’t actually see the eclipse. It’s on another plane, but it’s there and we’ll feel its power.”
“Uh-huh.”
Nora laughed, and Maggie grinned at the sound. Her sister liked all of the woo-woo stuff in life, but even she didn’t really buy it all.
“So how’s my baby girl?”
“Eileen’s fine.” Maggie stepped back, looked at the hardware store window and then moved closer to add a touch of shading to the snow painted across the bottom of the glass. “Apparently a boy likes her.”
“Oh, God. Tell me that’s not starting already.”
“With you as her mom? ’Fraid so. And he’s an older man.”
“What?”
Maggie laughed. “Thirteen.”
“Oh. God. Are you trying to kill me?”
“Just keeping you on your toes.” She clucked her tongue. “Damn snow isn’t right.”
“Is this snow on another plane with my eclipse?”
“No, wiseass. I’m painting Sam’s Hardware.”
“Okay, I won’t keep you.”
“No, it’s okay,” Maggie said quickly, not ready for her sister to hang up just yet. She looked up and saw a pair of elderly women walking toward her. Wearing polyester pants, sensible shoes and bright shirts covered in splashes of color, the two could have been sisters. Their gray hair was in tidy rolls of curls that had been sprayed into submission. Lipstick smiles creased their faces, so she smiled back and waited until they’d passed to say, “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“There is something wrong with my girl. What is it? Tell me, Maggie.”
“This isn’t about Eileen. It’s about . . .” What? She couldn’t say she’d killed a demon and sucked in a lungful of Faery dust, could she? Instead she grabbed onto something Culhane had said the night before—about her being a descendant of the Fae. “Do you remember Gran’s stories?”
“Of course I do. I’m the one who listened while you were out drawing pictures on sidewalks.”
Maggie ducked her head, turned toward the window and stared into the hardware store. She didn’t want anyone on the inside of the store reading her lips. But the only one watching was Sam, who lifted his left arm and pointed at his wristwatch, as if to remind her time was money and she was supposed to be painting, not talking.
She waved at him, then blurted, “Didn’t she used to say that she had slept with a . . . um . . .”
“Faery. Yeah. Mom didn’t want her telling us the stories, because she said they were inappropriate, but I loved hearing Gran talk about this stuff. And
Maggie stiffened. Nora goes away for a five-day trip, finds a man and brings him home with her? Adventurous. Maggie felt more plodding than ever. “He’s coming home with you?”
“ Yes. He wants to meet Eileen and see where I live. Oh, Maggie, I think he could be the one. His name is Quinn, and he’s gorgeous, and ohmigod, the sex is planet-shifting wonderful!”
“ Sex ? You’ve already had sex with him?” A woman dragging a screaming toddler behind her stopped dead and stared at Maggie. “I wasn’t talking to you,” she snapped, and went back to her sister, the romantic risk taker. “I can’t believe you, Nora. You hardly know this guy. Taking chances is one thing, but—”
“Our souls recognized each other.”
“Nora . . .”
“Honestly, Maggie, you’ve got to crawl out from under your rock once in a while.”
She’d been thinking the same thing herself a few minutes ago, but now . . .
“No more about Quinn,” her sister said. “Trust me, you’ll understand when you meet him. So anyway, the drum festival was amazing. We all sat out under the stars last night. Blistering cold, but it was gorgeous. And Quinn kept me warm.”
Maggie rolled her neck on her shoulders, stretching while her sister kept talking.
“Weeping Buffalo—he’s our guide for this trip—says that tonight there’ll be an eclipse.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”
“Well, we won’t actually see the eclipse. It’s on another plane, but it’s there and we’ll feel its power.”
“Uh-huh.”
Nora laughed, and Maggie grinned at the sound. Her sister liked all of the woo-woo stuff in life, but even she didn’t really buy it all.
“So how’s my baby girl?”
“Eileen’s fine.” Maggie stepped back, looked at the hardware store window and then moved closer to add a touch of shading to the snow painted across the bottom of the glass. “Apparently a boy likes her.”
“Oh, God. Tell me that’s not starting already.”
“With you as her mom? ’Fraid so. And he’s an older man.”
“What?”
Maggie laughed. “Thirteen.”
“Oh. God. Are you trying to kill me?”
“Just keeping you on your toes.” She clucked her tongue. “Damn snow isn’t right.”
“Is this snow on another plane with my eclipse?”
“No, wiseass. I’m painting Sam’s Hardware.”
“Okay, I won’t keep you.”
“No, it’s okay,” Maggie said quickly, not ready for her sister to hang up just yet. She looked up and saw a pair of elderly women walking toward her. Wearing polyester pants, sensible shoes and bright shirts covered in splashes of color, the two could have been sisters. Their gray hair was in tidy rolls of curls that had been sprayed into submission. Lipstick smiles creased their faces, so she smiled back and waited until they’d passed to say, “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“There is something wrong with my girl. What is it? Tell me, Maggie.”
“This isn’t about Eileen. It’s about . . .” What? She couldn’t say she’d killed a demon and sucked in a lungful of Faery dust, could she? Instead she grabbed onto something Culhane had said the night before—about her being a descendant of the Fae. “Do you remember Gran’s stories?”
“Of course I do. I’m the one who listened while you were out drawing pictures on sidewalks.”
Maggie ducked her head, turned toward the window and stared into the hardware store. She didn’t want anyone on the inside of the store reading her lips. But the only one watching was Sam, who lifted his left arm and pointed at his wristwatch, as if to remind her time was money and she was supposed to be painting, not talking.
She waved at him, then blurted, “Didn’t she used to say that she had slept with a . . . um . . .”
“Faery. Yeah. Mom didn’t want her telling us the stories, because she said they were inappropriate, but I loved hearing Gran talk about this stuff. And
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