didn’t warn you if it’s fifty more hours.”
“Kiss me again, and I won’t care if it’s fifty more seconds.”
Yep. Crazy.
* * *
FOR PART OF the flight we slept, but when we were awake Bryn read secret WAM files sent by his friend Andre. The electronic documents contained the most up-to-date intelligence on the Seelie fae. Unfortunately there was no information about getting into the Never or getting out of it. Several operatives had breached the gates, but they were either found dazed and confused in the woods, unable to give any information about what had happened, or they were never seen or heard from again. Not encouraging.
“You should never let it slip to anyone that your aunt Melanie has been underhill and returned with her memory intact.”
“You’re right. WAM would send someone from the Conclave to get her, so they could question her,” I said grimly. The World Association of Magic was the organization of witches and wizards worldwide. Its leaders had an agency that reported to them called the Conclave, which was made up of killers and spies. It was hard to tell who was the most dangerous . . . the operatives sent by WAM or the leaders who sent them.
I rubbed my tired eyes. I didn’t know why I’d bothered to buy
Saveur
and
Fine Cooking
magazines. I hadn’t really looked at them. I’d spent most of the time whispering back and forth with Bryn about the trip, and regretting that the first time I’d see his home country was just to pass through on the way to the Never.
“I wish we had time to see where you grew up,” I said.
“Next time,” Bryn promised.
“Maybe on our honeymoon.”
He smiled. “Ireland would be great for our honeymoon, but then, I’d be happy just about anywhere celebrating that.”
I smiled. “Sweet-talking candylegger.”
He laughed. Candylegger was what Edie called him. It was slang from the 1920s and supposed to be an insult, but I’d turned it into a pet name.
* * *
HEATHROW AIRPORT IN London, England, is four-point-six square miles, and I think we walked at least half of that. I was so tired I used a pillar to hold me up while we waited for our luggage.
I noticed Bryn go still and then look around sharply. I felt his magic gather. Suddenly alert, I felt my spine stiffen, and my gaze darted side to side.
“What is it?”
“I sense magic from at least three different practitioners. It’s all around us.”
I bit my lip. “I wish Merc were here,” I said.
Mercutio is my ocelot companion and pretty much my best friend. I’d had to leave him in Duvall, because Merc’s a jungle cat and there are no jungles in the United Kingdom, and it was going to be really cold. Also, I didn’t trust the faeries. What if they locked us up? Mercutio roams all night. He has to be free to go wherever he wants or he’s not happy.
“I wish I had a gun,” I whispered. Being unarmed made me feel vulnerable. For weeks I’d kept a gun in a kitchen drawer with other occasionally used utensils. “Wait, look. It’s okay—there’s Andre!”
Bryn’s friend Andre is as cute as a cupcake. He’s chubby and has thinning light brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He looks like a baker for Pillsbury, but really he’s a wizard and physicist.
“I didn’t tell Andre to meet us,” Bryn said.
My smile drooped a little. “Well, he probably wanted to surprise us.”
“I never told him what time we were arriving. I planned for us to go straight to Dublin after collecting a pair of reference books on the fae from a London bookshop.”
Andre hurried to us. “My friend,” he said, embracing Bryn. “My dear,” he said, kissing and hugging me.
“What’s going on?” Bryn asked.
Andre is Swiss, but he speaks German as his first language, and he lapsed into it, speaking rapidly.
Bryn glanced around and then nodded. I gave him a questioning look.
“We have to go to WAM headquarters.”
I tensed. “Why?”
“Andre wasn’t told,” Bryn
“Kiss me again, and I won’t care if it’s fifty more seconds.”
Yep. Crazy.
* * *
FOR PART OF the flight we slept, but when we were awake Bryn read secret WAM files sent by his friend Andre. The electronic documents contained the most up-to-date intelligence on the Seelie fae. Unfortunately there was no information about getting into the Never or getting out of it. Several operatives had breached the gates, but they were either found dazed and confused in the woods, unable to give any information about what had happened, or they were never seen or heard from again. Not encouraging.
“You should never let it slip to anyone that your aunt Melanie has been underhill and returned with her memory intact.”
“You’re right. WAM would send someone from the Conclave to get her, so they could question her,” I said grimly. The World Association of Magic was the organization of witches and wizards worldwide. Its leaders had an agency that reported to them called the Conclave, which was made up of killers and spies. It was hard to tell who was the most dangerous . . . the operatives sent by WAM or the leaders who sent them.
I rubbed my tired eyes. I didn’t know why I’d bothered to buy
Saveur
and
Fine Cooking
magazines. I hadn’t really looked at them. I’d spent most of the time whispering back and forth with Bryn about the trip, and regretting that the first time I’d see his home country was just to pass through on the way to the Never.
“I wish we had time to see where you grew up,” I said.
“Next time,” Bryn promised.
“Maybe on our honeymoon.”
He smiled. “Ireland would be great for our honeymoon, but then, I’d be happy just about anywhere celebrating that.”
I smiled. “Sweet-talking candylegger.”
He laughed. Candylegger was what Edie called him. It was slang from the 1920s and supposed to be an insult, but I’d turned it into a pet name.
* * *
HEATHROW AIRPORT IN London, England, is four-point-six square miles, and I think we walked at least half of that. I was so tired I used a pillar to hold me up while we waited for our luggage.
I noticed Bryn go still and then look around sharply. I felt his magic gather. Suddenly alert, I felt my spine stiffen, and my gaze darted side to side.
“What is it?”
“I sense magic from at least three different practitioners. It’s all around us.”
I bit my lip. “I wish Merc were here,” I said.
Mercutio is my ocelot companion and pretty much my best friend. I’d had to leave him in Duvall, because Merc’s a jungle cat and there are no jungles in the United Kingdom, and it was going to be really cold. Also, I didn’t trust the faeries. What if they locked us up? Mercutio roams all night. He has to be free to go wherever he wants or he’s not happy.
“I wish I had a gun,” I whispered. Being unarmed made me feel vulnerable. For weeks I’d kept a gun in a kitchen drawer with other occasionally used utensils. “Wait, look. It’s okay—there’s Andre!”
Bryn’s friend Andre is as cute as a cupcake. He’s chubby and has thinning light brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He looks like a baker for Pillsbury, but really he’s a wizard and physicist.
“I didn’t tell Andre to meet us,” Bryn said.
My smile drooped a little. “Well, he probably wanted to surprise us.”
“I never told him what time we were arriving. I planned for us to go straight to Dublin after collecting a pair of reference books on the fae from a London bookshop.”
Andre hurried to us. “My friend,” he said, embracing Bryn. “My dear,” he said, kissing and hugging me.
“What’s going on?” Bryn asked.
Andre is Swiss, but he speaks German as his first language, and he lapsed into it, speaking rapidly.
Bryn glanced around and then nodded. I gave him a questioning look.
“We have to go to WAM headquarters.”
I tensed. “Why?”
“Andre wasn’t told,” Bryn
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