The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes

Mare Fortune bounded down the stairs of the family home in her ragged blue running shorts just as the wind caught the front door and blew it open, sending coppery dust swirling in. She batted the dust away and looked out, but instead of Mrs Elder’s beat-up front porch across the street, she saw golden sunshine beaming down on a red tiled roof and a fat laughing baby toddling in a dusty road while a tough dark-haired guy chased after it, laughing, too. She sucked in her breath and thought, Crash, and reached out into the sunlight for him, but he vanished, him and the baby and the red tiled roof and the sunshine, and it was just boring old Duckpond Street under cloudy skies in Salem’s Fork, West Virginia, with Mrs Elder’s peeling porch across the way, no coppery dust at all.

‘Oh,’ Mare said, feeling bereft and then feeling stupid for feeling bereft. He left you, he’s gone, it’s been five years, you’re over it. She turned to close the heavy door, just as her oldest sister Dee took down their mother’s jewelry chest from the mantel in the living room and, beyond her, their middle sister Lizzie bent over her metallurgy book at the battered dining room table, everything normal, nothing to worry about.

‘Big storm coming in.’ Mare yanked down on her tank top, shoving Crash and the whole vision thing out of her mind. ‘Big old Beltane storm.’ Her tiger-striped cat, Pywackt, padded down the narrow stairs with dignity, and she made kissing sounds at him, which he ignored. ‘Lightning on the mountain just for us, Py, baby.’

‘Didn’t we throw those away?’ Dee said, cradling the brass-bound jewelry box in her slender arms as she frowned at Mare’s tattered shorts.

‘You tried,’ Mare said.

Dee nodded, looking distracted. ‘Come on,’ she said and turned toward the dining room, her gray wool suit perfectly fitted to her tiny waist. Mare stuck her tongue out at Dee’s auburn chignon and followed her into the dining room where ethereal Lizzie sat hunched over her book in her purple silk kimono, her blond curls tangled and blue eyes wide, dripping muffin butter onto her notebook as she ate.

Dee put the jewelry box on the table and said, ‘Mind the butter, Lizzie,’ and Lizzie turned another page, oblivious to Dee, the butter, and the wind whistling outside the open garden windows.

Mare plopped herself down at the table and looked at the muffins. ‘They’re all apple bran, Lizzie. That’s boring. I like blueberry and lemon poppy seed and-’

Lizzie moved her hand over the muffin basket, still not looking up from her book, and tendrils of violet smoke trailed from her fingertips and across the apple bran.

‘Thank you.’ Mare craned her neck to look into the basket and then went for a newly transformed blueberry, but Dee moved the basket out of her reach.

‘First we vote.’ Dee straightened the jewelry box.

Lizzie looked up from her book. ‘Now?’

Crap, Mare thought, and looked longingly at the muffins. Lizzie had baked them so they were bound to be munchable.

‘Yes, now.’ Dee sat down at the head of the table. ‘If Mare’s going to college, she has to register now. Which means we have to decide if we move so she can go to a school we can afford. And which piece of Mother’s jewelry we sell to finance it. And I have to be at the bank in an hour, so we have to do it now’

‘Not now.’ Mare stared at the blueberry muffin just out of her reach – come here, damn it - so that a couple of dust motes lazing in the air sparked blue. ‘Not now, not ever.’ She lifted her chin, feeling the weight of the muffin in her mind, and it rose slowly until it hovered at eye level.

‘Mare,’ Dee said. ‘Not in front of the window.’

Mare grinned and crooked her finger, and the muffin floated toward her, sparking blue once or twice, like a misfiring muffler.

‘Oh, dear.’ Lizzie waved her hands a little, as if to warn Mare off, tendrils of violet smoking from her fingertips, and her butter knife turned into a rabbit.

Py sat up and took an interest.

‘Easy there, Lizzie,’ Mare said, staring cross-eyed at her muffin, now floating in front of her nose. ‘You know Py and bunnies.’

Dee flushed. ‘Put down the muffin, please, Mare. You know how important this vote is.’

‘It’s important to you,’ Mare said, concentrating on keeping her muffin afloat. ‘It’s not important to me. As mistress of all I survey, I feel that college is, how can I put this? Unnecessary.’ She scowled at Dee – why were they having this conversation again? She was twenty-three, if she didn’t want to go to college, she wasn’t going to go – and her annoyance broke her concentration and the muffin dropped and broke, and Mare said, ‘Damn.’ She focused on another one, lemon poppyseed this time, making it rise from the muffin basket while Lizzie’s butter-knife rabbit began to forage for crumbs on her notebook page.

At the end of the table, Py began to forage for the rabbit.

‘You are not mistress of all you survey,’ Dee said, exasperated, ‘you’re-’

‘Queen of the Universe,’ Mare said.

‘-assistant manager of a Value Video!!’

Mare pulled the muffin toward her with her eyes. ‘That’s temporary. It’s only a matter of time until I’m queen of the company.’

‘I don’t think Value Video!! has queens,’ Dee said. ‘I know, they have presidents. But when I get to the top, that’s gonna change.’

‘Well, to become queen of Value Video!! you have to go to college.’ Dee opened the jewelry box. ‘It was always Mother’s dream that we’d all go, and it’s your turn. It’s past time for your turn. So we vote.’

‘I don’t want to,’ Mare said. ‘Lizzie doesn’t want to vote, either, do you, Lizzie?’

Lizzie looked up. ‘What?’

‘It’s time to vote,’ Dee said gently.

‘All right,’ Lizzie said, her focus drifting again.

‘Lizzie!’ Mare shrieked, betrayed.

Lizzie jerked back, startled, and Mare saw her fright and said, ‘Lizzie, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ but it was too late. Lizzie was waving her hands, fingers trembling, as she warded off Mare’s anger, purple tendrils of apology wafting over the table.

‘Oh, hell’ Mare said as lavender smoke rose around them.

Lizzie let the purple cloud engulf her. It was so quiet in there. Two more bunnies had popped up, depleting the knife count on the table and drawing Py closer. She blinked rapidly as the cloud grew thicker; it felt as if coppery dust had gotten into her eyes. For a moment she’d drifted away from her contentious sisters and their tiny living room in Salem’s Fork, and she was floating, distant, in a castle in Spain, lying on her back, and someone was leaning over her, and it was…

‘Lizzie, honey, take a breath,’ Dee said, as the smoke cleared.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzie said to Mare, pulling herself together. ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’

‘It’s okay.’ Mare floated a muffin over to her, dispersing more smoke with blue sparks. ‘Dee’s trying to get us to vote and I don’t want to because I don’t want to move again.’

Lizzie picked the muffin out of the air and sighed the rest of the purple away. Violet smoke, drifting around a castle in Spain, moody and romantic. Stop it. ‘I’m not sure I want to, either.’

‘We’re voting,’ Dee said sharply.

She startled the bunny and made it quiver, and Lizzie picked it up and petted it, trying not to quiver herself. They were fighting again. She hated the days when they voted. Three more bunnies had popped up on the table during the argument, and Lizzie wondered whether she could take them and sneak back into her room while Mare and Dee glared at each other.

‘Then I vote we don’t vote,’ Mare said. ‘It’s my future, and I’ll take care of it when it gets here.’

‘And just how is refusing to plan for your future going to protect you from Xan the next time she finds us?’ Dee said, goaded.

‘What makes you think we need protection from her?’ Mare said. ‘She’s our aunt. And she hasn’t come after us in years. I’m not even sure she’s the demon you make her out to be.’ Dee began to protest and Mare overrode her. And anyway, I don’t see the connection between going to college and escaping Xan. I don’t see your college degree getting you much protection or anything else except stuck in that damn bank. At least I get to watch movies.’

‘I wouldn’t be stuck in that damn bank if you’d grow up and take care of yourself-’ Dee stopped.

Oh, Dee. ‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzie said into the silence, trying to fight the sick feeling inside her. ‘Dee, I’m sorry about the bunnies and I’m sorry about the bank. I’ll get us money, I’m almost there, I’ve almost got it, I’ll get us the money and you can quit and paint fulltime, I swear-’

‘No, Lizzie, it’s all right.’ Dee patted Lizzie’s hand. She reached out to Mare and Mare pulled back. ‘Mare, I didn’t mean it, I’m fine at the bank. We’re fine. I just want you to have a future.’

‘I have a future.’ Mare focused on the muffin crumbs and they piled onto each other in lumpy parodies of muffins, little Frankencakes, misshapen and wrong.

That’s not how you make a muffin, Lizzie thought. Mare didn’t know how to make things. Making things took time and patience and thought and understanding.

Mare shook her head and let the muffins fall apart again. ‘You don’t need to work at the bank for me, Dee. I don’t want college.’

‘You haven’t even tried it,’ Dee protested.

Mare met her eyes. ‘College can’t teach me what I need to know, Dee. I need to know how to use my power, we all do, we’re cramped here in this little house, hiding our powers from everybody, and they’re rotting inside us. The only one who can show us how is Xan.’

‘No,’ Dee said. ‘You don’t know her. You were too young when we ran, you don’t remember. She killed Mom and Dad, Mare. She could-’

‘She didn’t kill anybody.’ Mare flipped her hand as if she could flip the idea away. ‘They died of stupidity, just like the coroner said. You really have to get over that, Dee.’

Dee clenched her hands. ‘Trust me. She’s dangerous. Isn’t she, Lizzie?’

‘Yes,’ Lizzie said. I can’t stand this, she thought, picking up her book again.

‘At least Xan doesn’t hide who she is,’ Mare said. At least Xan doesn’t tie her own hands and hide from the world.’

Dee straightened. ‘We are not going to Xan, and that’s final. Now it’s time to vote.’ She turned their mother’s jewelry box so they could see inside. ‘I vote yes. We use one of Mother’s necklaces to send Mare to college.’

‘Not the amethyst,’ Lizzie said from behind her book, and blinked as she felt that coppery dust in her eyes again. She could feel the satin sheets against her naked skin, the weight of the purple stone between her breasts, his breath warm and… She shook her head. Not the amethyst.

‘Not any of them,’ Mare said. ‘I vote no.’

‘Lizzie?’ Dee said to the cover of the metallurgy book.

Lizzie lowered the book. ‘You really don’t want to go to school?’ she asked Mare.

Mare rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘No!’

Lizzie looked at Dee. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think we should force…’ Dee scowled at her, her eyes stormy, and Lizzie sucked in her breath. ‘I abstain.’

Dee drew a deep, angry breath, and green fog began to rise, swirling around her.

‘Oh,’ Lizzie said faintly. ‘Oh, no…’

Well, that tears it, Dee thought, coughing green fog. It wasn’t bad enough that her head was about to explode, now the rest of her was, too. Her skin burned. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer. Her body was in the throes of cataclysmic change, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Couldn’t she just cry when she got upset like other women? Maybe throw a tantrum? Hell, even spinning muffins would be better. No, she had to be theatrical. But God, didn’t the two of them understand? Did they want to end up stuck here for the rest of their lives?

She didn’t. She wanted what she’d seen when that copper dust had blown through the door and into her eyes: a high, white studio in Montmartre and paint on a canvas, and a model she seemed to know. A breathtaking man who smiled as if he’d waited just for her…

‘Oh, Mare,’ Lizzie said.

‘I am not taking responsibility for this,’ Mare said.

Dee could feel her cells metamorphosing, twinkling into new patterns like the transporter beam in Star Trek. Her throat tightened, her vision sharpened, the colors faded. Damn it, this was the worst time for this to happen. It was tough enough to get Mare to take her seriously. It was even harder when she was-

Poof!

‘An owl!’ Lizzie said, as she waved away the green fog. ‘Oh, dear. Are you a screech owl?’

‘I’m a pissed-off big sister owl,’ Dee said, but it came out in screeches and chirps only her sisters could understand. She wasn’t sitting at the table anymore, she was on top of it, clad in cinnamon feathers and perched on a set of talons, frantically scrabbling for purchase in the nest of her collapsed clothing.

‘You sound like a screech owl.’ Mare stood up and shoved her chair under the table. ‘Not that you don’t most of the time anyway.’ She looked down at Dee, perplexed, as if she were ready to continue the fight but wasn’t sure how. ‘Listen, I think I’ll just go ahead and do my morning run now. You have a nice, uh, flight.’

She did not always screech.

‘You’re not going anywhere until I return to form,’ Dee screeched.

Mare bent down, so that they were eye to eye, which made Dee blink. ‘You look very Disney, all ruffled up like that. You should have a perky little musical number with the other forest creatures coming right up. Call me if the urge to sing sweeps over you.’

‘Go on and run like the dog you are,’ Dee said. ‘But I’ll be here when you-’

The doorbell rang.

For a second, they froze, looking at each other. ‘I’ll get the bunnies,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ll check the window,’ Dee said.

‘I’ll get your clothes,’ Mare said and scooped up the nest out from under her.

Lizzie shoved the bunnies into the kitchen. Mare tossed Dee’s clothes into her room. Dee focused on the view out the front window, which revealed nothing more than the jungle of flowers that was their front yard and the picket fence that contained it.

‘One person at the door,’ she said. ‘No official vehicles at the gate.’

Lizzie sat back down and tried to look calm. Dee tried to look as normal as an owl could under the circumstances. They all nodded to each other, and Mare opened the door.

‘Good morning,’ a baritone voice said. ‘You must be Moira Mariposa Fortune.’

‘What’s it to you?’ Mare snapped, but Dee’s beak dropped open. That man. The one she’d just seen posing for her in Montmartre, there in the swirling dust: she swore it was him. Tall, lithe, and dark, his sable hair just a little too long, his leather jacket a little too worn, and his battered jeans a little too tight. In short, as wicked as sin. Especially when he smiled. When he smiled he was Dennis Quaid in Daniel Day-Lewis’s body. And in her fantasy he’d been smiling at her.

‘Well, if I’m right,’ he said with a big smile at Mare, ‘it means I can stop tramping across this town like a door-to-door salesman.’

‘Then move on, Willie Loman,’ Mare said and tried to shut the door.

The guy stuck his foot in her way. ‘If you’ll just listen…’

Deed listen, all right. She’d nestle against his neck and trill in his ear. She might be the oldest virgin in North America, but she wasn’t a dead virgin. And she could swear she knew what every inch of him looked like without those clothes.

‘Good heavens,’ Lizzie whispered from behind her. ‘You’re preening.’

Good heavens, she was. Fluffing her feathers and twitching her tail and tucking her head, as if the guy standing in the door was a big barn owl.

‘Did you know you have a screech owl on your table?’ he asked Mare.

‘No,’ Mare said. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Close the door, Mare,’ Dee begged.

It came out as a descending carillon of chirps. The guy on the other side of the door lifted amazed eyebrows at her. ‘And I think she likes me.’

Leave it to her to turn into an owl in front of an ornithologist. Who else would recognize the mating call of the Eastern screech owl?

‘You think wrong,’ Mare said to him, trying to close the door. And good-bye.’

‘Good,’ Dee said, panting. ‘Get him out of here.’

It wasn’t often a man got under her skin like this. She didn’t allow it; it was too dangerous. She’d tried a few times, letting herself believe that the arousal from hormones would affect her differently than the agitation of anger or fear. She’d been wrong. She’d ended up sending two guys into therapy and another to an ashram in India. She could still hear him screaming as he ran into the night, her bra dangling from his hand after she’d shifted right there in the back seat of his Jeep. And not into anything as cute as an owl. No, she’d shifted into his mother. Just like she had with the other two guys. And she hadn’t even liked their mothers.

She’d been celibate ever since, and assured herself she was happy that way. She didn’t have a choice, after all. But for some reason, this man suddenly made her feel like a nun peering out the convent gate, longing for what she could never have.

Thank God he was leaving.

He kept his foot in the door. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Please. I’m looking for Moira Mariposa, Elizabeth Alicia, and Deirdre Dolores Fortune. I’m researching a book.’

‘Our name’s O’Brien.’ Mare stopped trying to kick his foot away. A book?’

He nodded. About Phil and Fiona Fortune. That’s your real name, isn’t it? You just took O’Brien as an alias when you moved here.’

Dee shut her eyes, suddenly sick. Oh, hell. Didn’t it just figure? She couldn’t even have a decent fantasy without it blowing up in her face.

‘No, our name really is O’Brien,’ Mare said. And we don’t know anybody named Fortune. Would we lie to you?’

‘Since I got your alias from your parents’ old commune members, I’d say that’s a yes,’ he said, perfectly calm for all the disaster he was unleashing. ‘I was hoping to at least talk to your oldest sister, Deirdre.’

‘She doesn’t want to talk to you,’ Dee chirped. ‘Get rid of him.’

Her heart was slamming against her tiny chest. Her head threatened to explode again. It wasn’t fair. They’d run so far, hidden so well. And here was the man of her dreams – well, her dust – blithely threatening to do a great big Geraldo on them.

‘Thanks,’ Mare said, ‘but no thanks. Now if you’d move your foot so I could close this door-’

He just kept smiling. ‘That’s what I was told you’d say.’

‘Really?’ Mare asked. And here I thought I was being delightfully unpredictable. Go away.’

‘Find out who told him who we are,’ Dee begged.

‘How about we start over?’ he asked, putting out a hand. ‘I’m Danny James. Like I said, I’m researching a book-’

He never had the chance to finish. Mare stomped on his toes, and when he winced and jerked his foot back, she slammed the door. Then she turned and looked at her sisters. ‘Well, this is another fine mess the ‘rents have gotten us into.’

Dee was frantic. That was disaster standing on their front porch. How could Mare just dismiss it like an inconvenient Mormon on a mission? ‘We have to find out what’s going on,’ she said. Flapping her wings, she swooped over to perch on the living room windowsill.

‘I don’t have to find out,’ Mare said. ‘I don’t care. I got rid of him. He’s gone.’

‘I don’t have time,’ Lizzie said, picking up her book. ‘I have work to do. I’m really close to a breakthrough.’

‘Well, I have time.’ Dee stared out the front window where she could see Danny James pause out by the curb. ‘What if she sent him?’

‘Who?’ Mare asked.

Dee glared. ‘Xan.’

Mare shook her head. ‘She’s your nightmare in the closet. Let it go, Dee.’

‘Open the door’ Dee ruffled her feathers, preparing to fly. ‘I’m going after him. Somebody has to keep an eye on him. I can do it without being caught.’

‘You don’t think he’ll find an owl on his ass suspicious?’ Mare asked.

‘He’ll never see me.’

‘How about when you change back to human form in the middle of the sidewalk and you’re naked?’ Mare stopped and looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, men usually don’t ask questions about naked women, so you might get away with that one.’

Dee ruffled her feathers again. ‘I have clothes stashed all over this town. Nobody’s going to see me naked. And anyway, we have to know. I can at least see where he goes before I have to be at the bank.’

‘Couldn’t he just be what he says?’ Lizzie asked. A book researcher?’

Dee inched her way to the edge of the table. ‘Mother and Dad have been dead for twelve years. Why would anybody do a book now? And exactly who gave him our alias? We can’t just assume Xan isn’t behind this. The last time she came after us, we almost didn’t get away in time. Open the door.’

Lizzie and Mare looked at each other.

‘Maybe we should vote on it,’ Mare said. ‘Just because Dee is over twenty-eight, that doesn’t mean she gets to choose her own life-’

‘MARE!’ Dee screeched, and Lizzie slipped around her and opened the front door.

Dee shoved off the dining room table and launched herself past them, out into the morning sky.

Xantippe Fortune put aside her silver spell bowl, the coppery dust of the True Desire spell gleaming in the bottom, and then wiped her see glass clean while the short, dark-haired woman next to her looked defiant but nervous. Very nervous.

Good, Xan thought and settled into the silver brocade wing chair, the folds of her red gown falling smoothly over her wrists.

It was hell finding competent help for a supernatural power heist in the twenty-first century, especially in a place as small and clueless as Salem’s Fork.

‘All I did was sneeze,’ Maxine said, smoothing down her polyester peasant blouse.

Fashion always tells, Xan thought. ‘You sneezed on a magic glass, Maxine. Twice. The first one blew the front door wide open, which made the sisters close it instead of leaving it open to the screen door, which made it impossible to hear what was happening in the front of the house. The second sneeze almost made them close the garden windows, and if they had, I would have lost the dining room conversation. Because you were never taught to use a handkerchief, they think a hurricane is coming. Plus it’s unsanitary. You just bought a diner, woman. I shudder to think what happens in your kitchen.’

‘I’m going to call it Maxine’s,’ Maxine said in a dreamy voice.

‘No, you are not,’ Xan said. ‘You are going to do nothing to call attention to yourself or to the fact that you have suddenly acquired enough money to buy a diner. Our arrangement was that I would give you the money to buy the diner in exchange for your clandestine services for the next three days, but you must not call attention to yourself. That’s where the “clandestine” part comes in, Maxine. Until Monday, the Greasy Fork stays the Greasy Fork. Do you understand?’

‘There are gonna be big changes,’ Maxine said, looking off into the distance at her magnificent future.

‘Maxine!’ Xan snapped, and Maxine jerked to attention. ‘What are you going to do for the next three days?’

‘I’m gonna watch the Fortune sisters and not make any big changes because I’m clandestine,’ Maxine said.

‘And?’

‘And I’m gonna keep an eye on the three men who come for them.’

‘And?’

‘And I’m gonna tell you everything.’ Xan settled back into her wing chair again. ‘Good, Maxine.’

‘And then I’m gonna sell Martinis at the Greasy Fork.’

‘Maxine!’

‘But not until Monday,’ Maxine said hurriedly.

When hunting season comes, Xan thought. I’m going to turn you into a rabbit. ‘Good, Maxine. You may go.’

Maxine looked around the room. ‘How do I-’

Xan waved her hand and Maxine vanished, only to reappear in the see glass, looking dizzy and slightly nauseated behind the Greasy Fork’s Dumpster.

I know how you feel, Xan thought. The whole town makes me feel that way.

Then she turned her attention back to the Fortune house, her heart beating a little faster now that her plan was in motion. She’d cast one spell and brought the sisters’ True Loves to Salem’s Fork, then cast another and the sisters had seen their True Desires. Now Danny James had met Dee and Dee was on her way after him. Lizzie was about to turn around and meet somebody amazing. And Mare-

‘Xantippe?’

Xan sat bolt upright as Maxine stood before her. ‘How the hell did you get back here?’

Maxine blinked. ‘The portal by the Dumpster was still open.’

Xan closed her eyes. If someone breathes in the natural psychic energy of a supernatural center like Salem’s Fork her entire life, Xan told herself, even if she’s a dolt like Maxine, she’ll pick up some basic skills. ‘Yes?’

‘Danny James just checked into the Lighthorse Harry Lee Bed and Breakfast Inn.’

Xan nodded. ‘Thank you.’

Maxine nodded back. ‘About the Martinis, I-’

‘Maxine, do you have any idea how powerful I am?’

‘No, Xantippe.’

Xan waved her hand and Maxine became a mouse, frozen in terror on the floor, the only part of her left that resembled Maxine her tiny horrified beady black eyes. Xan waited a beat and then waved her hand and Maxine stood before her again, shaking so hard, her head bobbed.

‘Never forget, Maxine,’ Xan said gently, ‘that I turned you back by choice. The next time, I may leave you turned. And you might not be a mouse.’

Maxine sucked in a terrified breath.

‘But of course, I won’t,’ Xan said. ‘I need you, Maxine. You’re my friend.’ She smiled into Maxine’s eyes, radiating hypnotic goodwill, and after a moment, Maxine relaxed.

‘Good one,’ Maxine said, still a little rocky.

‘Go watch the girls.’ Xan waved her hand and Maxine disappeared, only to reappear in the see glass, next to the Dumpster again, stumbling as she landed. ‘Next time, it’s in the Dumpster, Maxine,’ Xan said to the glass, closed the portal, and sat back, catching sight of the sisters in another angle of the see glass: Dee flying away in the shape of an owl, and Lizzie and Mare in the doorway, talking.

Xan leaned closer to the glass and whispered, ‘It’ll be a fair trade, darlings, those spells were true,’ and Lizzie looked up, startled, and said something to Mare, who looked stolid as ever, shaking her head and then pounding off down the pavement like the draft horse her nickname said she was. They didn’t know it, but they were lucky to have Xan looking out for them, taking care of them, making them the deal of their lifetimes. It wasn’t going to hurt, it truly wasn’t, and they’d be better off in the end. She wouldn’t miscalculate, nothing would go wrong this time, and if it did, it would hardly be her fault. No, they were very lucky. Especially Lizzie, Xan thought, feeling a pang of jealousy as Lizzie turned to go inside.

Especially Lizzie…

If this had been any other morning, Dee would have been delighted to be flying off from the house. Her favorite times had been spent as a bird. She loved flight: the sudden lift, the ruffle of air through her feathers, the illusion of freedom. She adored the patterns and colors the earth revealed from this indifferent height. But mostly, she liked being alone, responsible for nothing, failing no one, just focused on the scene around her and how it would translate onto the canvas that waited her back in her studio.

Not today. Today, she had to waste her precious time trailing Danny James.

He was trouble, she just knew it. And not just because he exuded enough pheromones to melt a girl into a coma. Dee couldn’t believe that neither Mare nor Lizzie had reacted to him. She still felt as if she’d been gigged like a frog.

He was trouble because he knew who they were. Because he wanted to know more. Because, damn it, she couldn’t be sure he hadn’t come from Xan.

Ah, there he was. On a motorcycle, of course, hot enough to make Mare notice as he rolled past. But then, who wouldn’t notice Danny James? Heck, every woman he passed turned for a second look. Some a third. Of course, it wasn’t often that strangers made the turn into the blind valley that cradled Salem’s Fork. Maybe it was just curiosity.

Uh-huh. And maybe the next time Dee tried to have sex she’d stay her own shape.

She watched closely, hoping against hope he’d betray himself quickly so she could waste a bit of time skimming the warm air currents before heading into work. He didn’t oblige. He rode straight through Salem’s Fork toward the river. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone or pass incriminating notes. He did seem compelled to wave and smile to every person he passed. And everyone seemed equally compelled to smile and wave back. Oh, he was real trouble.

He made her suddenly yearn for things she couldn’t have, him and that happy smile and that damned motorcycle of his. He probably felt as if he were flying down there on his bike. She bet he felt free.

‘Mrs Washington!’ he called as he pulled the bike to a stop in the driveway of Lighthorse Harry Lee, a lurid pink and chartreuse Queen Anne monstrosity that sat a block from the town square. ‘I was hoping I could ask a favor from you.’

He’d caught little Verna Washington at her biweekly hedge pruning. She was in overalls and a floppy straw hat, a living lawn ornament. Like every other female in this benighted town, she smiled, almost impaling herself on her pruning shears when she tried to pat down her tightly permed gray hair. ‘Why, of course, honey,’ she caroled. ‘Didn’t you see the girls, then?’

‘I did. Thank you.’

And here Dee had thought Verna was a friend. Dee alighted in the willow that grew at the northwest corner of the house to see Danny lope up the sidewalk, another of those bright smiles crinkling his eyes.

‘Would you mind if I checked into my room a bit early?’ he asked Verna. ‘Since I have to wait to interview my subjects, I was hoping I could catch a shower and make some calls.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Verna trilled, sounding just like Dee in her mating-owl mode. ‘You go right on up. I had Mel take your bag up to 3B. It’s the Lighthorse Suite, Mr James. We call it that because Lighthorse Harry Lee himself came through town on his way to the Revolution and left behind a boot. See the planter on the porch? It’s an exact replica.’

Verna pointed to the boot, now sporting pink begonias, but Dee was fixated on her good luck. The Lighthorse Suite was situated no more than ten feet from where she sat. She felt like a good smile herself. The window was open. Could be a good chance to see what secrets Danny James might reveal.

Danny was trying to go inside, but Verna was still talking. ‘You sure you don’t want to give me just a little hint about what the girls’ story is?’ Verna asked, snagging Dee’s attention. ‘I know it can’t be bad. They’re such good girls. Why, they can’t even seem to shoo all those bunnies out of their yard, and them with that big garden and all. Soft hearts, you know. But you were saying…’

Don’t blow our cover, Dee silently begged. Not yet. Stupid to worry. Their cover was already blown. There wasn’t a person in town who wouldn’t find a reason to ask just what that handsome stranger had been doing at the O’Brien house at eight in the morning.

‘Oh, it’s no mystery,’ Danny James assured the little woman. ‘I’m just researching some history for a book, and I was hoping they might be able to help me.’

Verna patted him on the arm as if he were a gentleman caller. ‘Well, how fascinating. Maybe you’d like a cup of tea while you tell me all about it.’

And, of course, he smiled and offered her his arm. ‘What a lovely offer, Mrs Washington.’

Excellent. Verna would keep him talking for hours, while Dee searched his room. She quickly scanned her target. Verna had decorated the inn in Early Ruffle, all lace and chintz and vacant-eyed china dolls ranged on high shelves. Danny James was going to look like a panther at a tea party tucked under Verna’s pink sheets. His luggage sat by the door, just waiting to be searched: a backpack and a wheeled softsider, both unopened; a briefcase that sat tantalizingly open on the wedding ring quilt.

Making sure the coast was clear, Dee lifted off and slipped smoothly in through the open window.

She must not have been as smooth as she’d thought. She hardly made it into the room before there was a loud slam behind her. She turned to see that the window had fallen closed.

Oh, dear God. She was stuck. She plopped down on the quilt right next to the briefcase and tried not to panic. The door was open into the hall, but she sincerely doubted that an owl could flap right down the stairs without being noticed. Maybe she should hide in the closet until Danny James got too warm and opened the window again -hopefully before she turned back into a naked human. Of course, if she was a human, she could get the window open…

There was a big time planner on the desk. Dee tilted her head. Hmmm. Not a very modern man, with no PDA. No, he had a book with everything she needed to know about him, right there for God and the world to see. She looked toward the open door again and then the closed window. She did her best to tamp down the instinct to batter herself against the glass to get out. She had to stay calm.

She decided she could stay calmer if she distracted herself with her mission. She had turned pages before as a bird. Maybe she’d have enough time to turn these and see what she could find out. Flapping as quietly as she could, she flew over and settled on the desk.

The address book was open at the Ds. She scanned it to see only two names that meant anything: Dellwood Press and Mark Delaney. Tidy. Dellwood Press was the publisher who put out the wildly popular Mark Delaney books.

Was that who he worked for? If it was, he had a great job. Delaney was a legend. Best-selling, award-winning, as notorious for his obsessive reclusivity as his immense talent.

Easy to be reclusive if you have this many addresses, Dee thought in passing. New York, L.A., London. Detroit. Detroit? Not her idea of a world-famous hideaway. The question was, what was a genre writer who penned alternative historical novels doing researching Phil and Fiona Fortune?

Dee hopped closer. Balancing on one claw, she reached over to try and flip pages. She needed the X page. Maybe the O. She needed to know if Xan had sent him. D… E… damn, this was hard. If she’d been human, she’d be sweating. Hop, pull, hop, flap…

She was concentrating so hard that she missed the sound of approaching footsteps. Suddenly the top stair creaked. Dee spun so fast, she almost fell over.

‘Remember,’ Velma’s voice trumpeted up from the front hallway, ‘the window’s a little loose and can close sometimes. If it does, just prop it with that big old dictionary on the desk.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Washington,’ Danny James answered from right outside the door. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Dee had to hide. The minute Danny James turned from calling down to Verna, he’d see her. She didn’t even think about it, just swooped straight up to the top of the chifforobe, her tiny heart stumbling. She tucked herself in among the garden of silk flowers Verna had crammed onto the cherrywood top. Maybe if she sat very still she’d look like decor – if the dust up there didn’t make her sneeze. Besides, she needed to see what Danny James was going to do. He was already closing the door before it occurred to her that if she changed back, she might have a better time of it under the bed.

At first the situation looked promising. Once he was in the room Danny James walked straight to the window and yanked the sash open. A fresh breeze wafted in along with the sound of desultory traffic. Verna could be heard chattering with Mrs Phipps from next door. Grabbing the huge dictionary from the desk, Danny James wedged it in the window to keep it propped open.

She could get out now, Dee thought, shifting from foot to foot. If he’d just turn his back, close his eyes, and ignore the sound of wings. Instead, he stood right in front of the window. Stretching his arms overhead, he slowly arched his back until Dee could hear little popping noises. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he muttered, stretching sideways. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for about five hundred miles.’

Dee knew she should scrunch down so he wouldn’t notice her up there, especially with his eyes facing the ceiling. But she was terrified into immobility, an owl statue surrounded by silk flower bouquets.

Facing out the window again, Danny pulled out a cell phone and punched buttons. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘It’s Danny. No luck so far, but I guess I expected that. I’ll call when I get something.’

And?

And he’d evidently finished with phone calls. Tossing the phone onto the bed, he shucked his jacket. Not just a leather jacket. An old, battered bomber jacket with the 390th Fighter Wing insignia. The Fighting Boars. The plain white T-shirt underneath betrayed every muscle in his chest and torso, and highlighted rock-solid shoulders.

Now, leave, she thought desperately. Give me a little space to get out the window. She sat as still as stone, terrified he’d see her. Holding her breath so she didn’t sneeze. Praying he’d take his shower.

She’d obviously prayed for the wrong thing. He was going to take his shower, all right. It was just that he was going to strip right here in the room. Sinking onto the iron bed, he pulled off his old battered cowboy boots, and Dee realized he had great biceps.

No. No time for biceps. Don’t look.

She looked. She loved biceps.

She really should go. Please turn around. Let me out.

He pulled off his shirt.

Dee gaped, frozen to the spot. It was like watching a theater curtain rise, only this one exposed the most incredible torso she’d ever seen: taut pecs and cut abs and a dusting of mahogany hair that curled at his throat and trailed right down to his waistband and beyond, and oh, God, he even wore a silver medal, the chain glinting against his tan skin.

Hadn’t she seen that this morning? When he smiled at her in that brief, tantalizing flash of fantasy in the dust? Dreaming about painting was one thing. But dreaming about painting him…

She had to close her eyes. She had to turn around. He had no idea what disaster he was courting just by shucking his shirt. He reached up to pull the silver chain over his head and dropped it on the nightstand, and Dee almost groaned out loud.

Was he humming or was she? She couldn’t tell. She just knew she should move. She should fly away, right now, no matter the cost. The danger certainly couldn’t be greater than what would happen if she shifted right on top of his chifforobe. Because the way her body was reacting to him, even her owl body, she just wasn’t sure it wouldn’t happen.

Concentrate on something else. He was out to get her parents. Not enough. Something else. Xan. He could be from Xan. She had to….

She forgot what she had to. He was unsnapping his jeans. She held her breath, terrified that if she so much as gasped, she’d start chirping like a car alarm. Her tiny heart was thundering. Her feathers had suddenly grown too heavy and hot for her skin. Warnings shrilled in her head.

Any other time, she’d already be seeing green fog. But she’d never become this aroused when she was already shifted. She had no idea what would happen. Would she changeagain? Would she change back into herself? Maybe she’d simply explode. She could just imagine owl feathers showering down from that chifforobe like fireworks.

Well, it couldn’t be any worse than what usually happened. She could just imagine what Danny James’s reaction would be when his mother appeared crouched on the top of his chifforobe wearing nothing more than a blush.

As for her, she might as well just kill herself and be done with it.

It didn’t seem to matter. Even at the real risk to life, limb, and both their psyches, she simply couldn’t look away. She couldn’t think of anything but how breathtaking he was, how he made her want things she’d never allowed herself to want. Her very cells were glowing hot, a core meltdown that presaged disaster of monumental proportions. Her energy was coagulating, gathering to change, and she was trapped in a room with the man who’d come to investigate her.

Please…

She was terrified she was already sparkling. The green fog clogged up inside of her, stealing her breath. And still he didn’t leave. Instead he pulled a file from his briefcase. She saw him bend over it and just closed her eyes.

I wonder what you look like now,’ he said suddenly. And what you’re going to end up telling me about those bloodsucking charlatans you call parents.’

Dee’s eyes snapped open to see him looking at an old magazine article of her in her Darling Dee-Dee dress. It saved her. His words sent a chill straight through to her talons.

Danny James tapped the picture. ‘Ready or not, Deirdre Dolores Fortune, here I come.’

Then he sauntered on into the bathroom, never once noticing that he had an owl on his furniture. Dee shot him a scathing look. Then she wasted a moment yearning for that file. It was too late, though. She had to leave. Dee barely made it out the window and next door to Pete Semple’s toolshed before the green fog enveloped her.

Lizzie stood in the open doorway, staring out in the bright morning sun as her sister disappeared into the sky in search of her prey. Dee made a lovely owl, she thought absently, all brown feathers and piercing eyes.

‘Should I follow her?’ Mare said, sounding exasperated. ‘You know, in case she ends up naked in a tree someplace, and I have to kick that Danny guy’s ass? After which she’ll bitch at me because I’m not going to college?’

Lizzie shook her head. ‘I’m not taking sides on that. You know she works hard at that bank for us and-’

‘Right.’ Mare went down the porch steps. ‘Gotta run before I go to work. If I see our sister naked, I’ll beat up anybody who’s looking at her, no matter what she says.’

The wind blew like a whisper, and Lizzie looked up. Did you hear that?’

‘Hear what?’ Mare frowned at the breeze. ‘I didn’t hear anything. Back in an hour. Thanks for the muffins.’

She pushed off, hitting a full run before she was through the front gate, and Lizzie breathed a silent sigh of relief as her youngest sister disappeared down the road. Time to herself, a quiet house, and no more fights. She could even finish her cup of tea before she retreated to her workshop. She was about to close the door when she felt a shiver run down her spine.

It wasn’t a particularly unpleasant shiver. Not a sense of danger, or impending doom. But something was definitely off, and she turned back to the kitchen slowly, and then had to stifle her instinctive scream.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, and for a moment she couldn’t see him clearly. He was a mass of changing colors – swirls of vivid brightness dancing, and then everything settled down, like a camera coming into focus, and it was only a man standing there, a tall man in a dark suit and blond hair, watching her.

The back door to the house was still closed and locked with a chair full of unread newspapers in front of it, and Lizzie had been standing in the only other door, watching her sisters take off. That door was still open behind her back, and she ought to run for it, fast. She was a chicken and she knew it, but the one thing stronger than her fear of confrontation was her curiosity.

‘How did you get in here?’ Dumb. She should have asked him who he was.

‘Doesn’t your sister know better than to turn into an owl in the middle of the day? Owls are nocturnal – if someone notices, there are bound to be questions, even in this town. Especially in this town.’ His voice was deep, mesmerizing, and just slightly annoyed.

She stared at him. He hadn’t been there when Dee shifted, and even if he’d seen it he wouldn’t have believed it. ‘What do you mean, especially in this town?’

One of the bunnies hopped across his foot, and he leaned down and picked it up, a soft, tiny creature in his elegant hands. She watched, mesmerized, as he stroked it, the long fingers caressing the fur lightly before he set it down on the table, where it lay in silver splendor, a fork once more.

‘Who the hell are you?’ she said, finally asking the right question.

He moved into the light, and she could see him quite clearly. Elegant, with long golden hair, dark eyes, impeccably dressed, with a silver stud in one ear. A little on the thin side – he was too well dressed for Mare, and Dee didn’t like blonds. He was probably in his early thirties, though there was something almost ageless about him.

‘Either your worst nightmare or your salvation,’ he said. ‘It’s up to you.’

She didn’t like men in suits, she didn’t like men who just showed up in her kitchen, no matter how gorgeous they were, and she definitely didn’t like his lack of answers. ‘I’m getting out of here,’ she said, turning to make a run for it.

The door in the hall slammed shut, followed by the very audible click of the lock.

‘I don’t think so,’ the stranger said. ‘You’ve been causing too much trouble, and I intend to put a stop to it. There’s nothing worse than amateurs messing with the laws of mutability. The repercussions can screw things up on a global level, and it can’t be ignored any longer.’

‘Amateurs?’ Lizzie echoed, seizing on the one tangible insult.

‘Well, you could hardly consider yourselves in any way adept. Your sister Deirdre transforms herself without any control; sooner or later she’s going to do it with a full audience and then where will you be? And your younger sister’s attempts at psychokinesis are pathetic, though so far not intrinsically dangerous. You, on the other hand, are likely to blow up this house and the entire neighborhood if you don’t cease your brainless experiments.’

‘Who the hell are you?’ she said again, trying for a tone as cold and deadly as his. It wobbled a bit, but it was a fair approximation.

‘Elric.’

‘Elric? That’s a ridiculous name.’

He closed his eyes in exasperation, and for a moment she could look at him without him seeing her. He really was quite astonishing, even if he still seemed to shimmer a bit about the edges. She didn’t like men in suits, but it was still the best-looking suit she’d ever seen. Or maybe the best-looking man…

He opened his eyes. ‘You’ve never heard of me.’

She shook her head. She could dive out the window, she supposed. If she’d only had Dee’s ability she’d be something entirely different at this point – with luck she’d have turned herself into a man-eating tiger and disposed of him.

There had to be something she could do. Like turn the floor into Jell-O, but then she’d be trapped, as well. And she’d be just as likely to turn the worn wooden flooring into a sea of rats.

‘Sit down.’ Elric picked up another bunny as it hopped across the floor.

She didn’t move, staring at his hands as he stroked the furry creature. Elegant, dangerous hands.

‘I want you to go away,’ she said.

I’m sure you do.’ He set another fork on the table, then began to scoop up the other three that lay scattered on the floor. ‘But you’ll sit anyway. We need to talk.’

‘If you don’t leave I’ll call the police.’

‘You’re not calling anyone. You don’t want people knowing your secrets any more than I do.’

He had a point.

‘Then I’ll turn you into a rabbit.’

Oh, my God, it was the wrong thing to say. He laughed, and it was like a rainbow of color flashing through the room. A woman could be fool enough to fall in love with a laugh like that.

And then he put his hands on her, and she was lost. It was nothing more than the touch of his strong fingers on her shoulders, pushing her down into the kitchen chair, the same long fingers that had been so gentle with the baby rabbits, but it felt as if those shimmering colors shot through her body, and she sat down, hard, staring up at him.

He looked startled himself, as if he’d felt those strange colors, too. But then, of course he would – they emanated from him. He reached for a chair, then changed his mind, choosing one farther away from her, and sat. ‘Don’t look so nervous, Elizabeth Alicia,’ he said, his voice gentle on the Spanish pronunciation of her middle name. I’m simply here to stop you. You’re messing with things you don’t understand, and those things could explode in your face. Literally. Apart from the fact that you’re drawing unwanted attention, you could wind up dead. Alchemy is a tricky business, and you don’t seem to have the first clue as to how to go about it.’

‘Lizzie,’ she corrected him. And how do you know my name? Know so much about us?’

‘Everyone knows about the three of you, everyone with our kind of power. I’ve come to stop you before you do something irreversible.’

She was halfway to the door before she remembered it was locked, and any man who could turn her bunnies back into forks had to be capable of stopping her escape with little more than a blink. She felt completely foolish in turning around, but she didn’t have much choice. He was waiting for her.

‘I’m not going to hurt you, Lizzie. But you’re too dangerous to be left on your own. You need to make peace with your family. Someone your age should be in much greater control of her gift. You need guidance, teaching, things you gave up when your sister took you and disappeared. It’s a wonder you haven’t been caught – your half-assed attempts at alchemy upset the tenor of the cosmos.’

‘The tenor of the cosmos can take care of itself,’ Lizzie said. ‘We’re not going anywhere near our family or anyone else. We do fine by ourselves, thank you very much, and we don’t need anyone interfering.’

‘You screw up by yourselves. Haven’t you practiced your craft, learned its possibilities?’

‘No. We don’t want to do anything that could bring us unwanted attention, either from the people in town or People Like You.’

‘You can’t just ignore your powers. They misfire if you don’t work at them.’

‘We don’t want them.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘All right. Then give them up. I can make arrangements.’

‘Not yet.’

She was really beginning to annoy him. ‘Whatever the problem is, I can fix it.’

‘You can’t fix everything,’ Lizzie said gloomily. ‘God knows I’ve tried.’

‘Maybe you can’t fix everything, Elizabeth Alicia,’ he said, ‘but you don’t even know me. Your sisters’ mistakes are only minor inconveniences – they might draw unfortunate attention but they don’t disturb the flow. You, on the other hand, are messing up big time, and I have no intention of leaving until you agree to stop what you’re doing.’

‘Then prepare to be here for a while,’ she said.

‘I’m on a mission, and I don’t give up easily. Once it’s accomplished I don’t intend to do magic ever again. Until that point there’s nothing you can do to stop me.’

‘You’d be surprised. Why are you planning to give up your powers?’

‘They’ve never brought me anything but trouble. I want to be normal.’

He let his eyes drift over her a brief, pregnant moment. This was a good thing – it was what he wanted. So why was he reluctant? ‘And just what is that noble mission?’ he said. ‘I can’t for the life of me figure it out. Every time you get upset, things change shape, and your workshop is a nuclear meltdown waiting to happen.’

‘My workshop is locked!’

‘Locks don’t have any effect on me,’ he said in a mild voice. ‘Tell me what you’re trying to do, and maybe I can help.’

She looked straight into those dark, mesmerizing eyes. ‘I’m trying to turn straw into gold.’

‘Change straw into gold? You’re kidding,’ Elric said to Lizzie in a flat voice, though he knew she wasn’t. Oh, Christ, he thought, staring at her. He couldn’t quite believe how someone so angelic looking could be causing this much trouble. Her guileless blue eyes didn’t begin to hint at the intelligence behind them, and with her tousled blond curls and slender body she looked like an impish teenager, not the woman he knew her to be. And what was it with her shoes? She was wearing Road Runner high-tops – how could he be attracted to a woman wearing Road Runner high-tops? Because he was.

‘We need money,’ Lizzie said. ‘That’s all Dee can think about, and if she didn’t have to worry about it, she’d stop trying to force Mare to go to college, and Mare would stop arguing, and if we needed to pick up and leave we could…’ Her voice trailed off, as if she’d realized she’d said too much.

‘And that’s what you think you need to do as soon as you can warn your sisters,’ he supplied for her. ‘But I’m not going to let that happen. You don’t need money, you need to stop what you’re doing.’

‘I need you to go away and leave us alone,’ she said, her voice stronger. She shifted, and he was afraid she was going to try to run for it. He could stop her, of course, without moving. But he was still shaken from their earlier contact, and he couldn’t figure out what had happened. Maybe all that random psychic energy that she and her sisters couldn’t control had managed to get between them and set off sparks. Maybe.

‘Too bad. Whatever made you think straw was a good base for gold?’

‘It’s traditional in alchemy,’ she said stiffly.

‘It’s traditional in fairy tales. Rumpelstiltskin, spinning straw into gold. In alchemy you turn base metals into gold. Like lead.’

She blushed. He liked his women sleek and sophisticated, dark-haired and whippet-thin. So what was he doing, fascinated by a pretty little girl who blushed? Besides, he was here for a reason, and getting distracted wasn’t part of his plans.

‘It doesn’t work,’ she said. ‘I’ve tried lead, copper, iron, Teflon. None of it works, so I went back to straw.’

‘And what happens with straw?’

‘It catches on fire.’

He shook his head. ‘There are laws that govern this sort of thing, and you seem to have no notion what they are. No wonder you’re on the edge of disaster.’

‘We’re doing just fine,’ she said, shoving her blond curls away from her face, trying to look fierce and failing. ‘We don’t want you here. I can figure things out on my own, and I don’t need your help. I’m not the total idiot you think I am.’

He was silent a moment. What would happen if he touched her again? Would there be sparks? Or nothing but this mild irritation combined with a surprising rush of attraction? He’d find out before this was over, just out of curiosity. He wasn’t going to do anything about the attraction; he didn’t want to get mixed up with the Fortune spawn if he could help it. But there was something about her that drew him, made him want to…

‘I don’t think you’re a total idiot,’ he said, banishing his errant thoughts. ‘You’ve just been living in a vacuum, away from people who could help you.’

‘The people who helped us when our parents died? I don’t think so. We can take care of ourselves.’

At that moment a baby rabbit hopped across her feet. She leaned down to pick it up, stroking it. She was something like those bunnies, pretty and soft and seemingly helpless. But she wasn’t, even if she herself wasn’t convinced of it.

‘Stop thinking so hard,’ he said.

She glanced up at him. Blue eyes, clear and wide and wary. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re trying to change him back, and you’re trying too hard. You have to let go, make it instinctive. Think about something else.’

‘Like what?’

‘Think about how much I annoy you, put the rabbit on the table, and tell me I’m an asshole.’

‘You’re an asshole,’ she said promptly, setting the rabbit down. A silver fork lay there for a moment, and she stared at it in disbelief, and then a moment later it turned into a lemon.

He shook his head. ‘You have to stop thinking about things. And one of the first rules of mutability is that you don’t cross elements. Animal turns into animal, mineral to mineral, and so on. You can’t turn a fork into a living animal or even a plant.’

‘I just did,’ she said smugly. And I could turn straw into gold.’

‘That’s because you didn’t know what you were doing and you were trying too hard. If you cross elements you disrupt everything, and it affects whatever you’re working on, not to mention those around you. Turn it back into a fork.’

‘You’re an asshole,’ she said promptly, trying it again, but of course the lemon just sat there.

‘It’s not an incantation. Think of something besides transmutation.’

‘That’s hard to do when I’m thinking how much I’d like to turn you into a toad,’ she said. The lemon flattened out to a spoon. A yellow spoon, but it was a step in the right direction.

‘I wouldn’t try it if I were you,’ he said. ‘You forget who I am.’

‘I don’t know who you are,’ she said, cranky. He suspected she didn’t get cranky very often – she didn’t seem to know how to carry it off. ‘Apart from Elric the Magnificent or something like that. I’m guessing you’re some kind of cheesy charlatan like my father.’

‘Really?’ She was making him cranky, as well, which was unusual. He’d expected this to be far simpler; he’d show up, stop Lizzie from screwing up the universe, send them all back to Xantippe, and get on with his life. But Elizabeth Alicia Fortune was getting under his skin, and it was enough incentive to make him drop his protective coloring. Just for a moment he was no longer a somewhat staid-looking man in a dark suit – he was a blaze of color and light that could blind the unwary, and then a second later he was ordinary again. Or as ordinary as he could carry off.

She blinked. That was it: she simply blinked at his temporary transformation, and then dismissed it. ‘I live with a shapeshifter, remember?’ she said. ‘I’m not impressed.’

‘That’s because you’re naive. I didn’t change shape. I simply changed your perceptions.’

‘Now that I don’t believe. You can’t alter the way I think,’ she said fiercely. She looked at him a little closer, and there was sudden doubt in her eyes. ‘Can you?’

‘Maybe there’s hope for you yet,’ he said. ‘No, neither I nor anyone else can make you think things that aren’t already inside you, not unless you’re particularly empty-headed. But I can alter the way people perceive me. People see what I want them to see. Or not see me at all if I so choose.’

‘You can become invisible?’

‘You aren’t listening. I don’t become invisible – people just don’t see me.’

‘Can I do that?’ she asked, fascinated.

‘God, I hope not,’ he said. ‘You’re trouble enough as it is.’

She looked oddly pleased at the notion. ‘So what do you want from me? From us? How do I make you disappear?’

‘You need to stop these dangerous experiments and return to your family.’

‘Not on your life.’

It was nothing more than he expected. ‘Then-’ The sound of the doorbell cut through his words. ‘Get rid of him,’ he said.

‘How do you know it’s a him? Do you have X-ray vision?’

‘It’s a him. If you were still enough you’d be able to sense the same thing. And I don’t like him. Get rid of him.’

It’s probably just a poor UPS man,’ Lizzie said, rising. ‘I ordered some supplies for my workshop a few days ago.’

‘I hate to think what kinds of things he’s bringing,’ Elric said with a shudder. ‘We’ll just ignore him and maybe he’ll go away.’

The doorbell had given way to a peremptory pounding on the door, and Elric knew he was no deliveryman in brown shorts. And he didn’t like that at all.

‘I’m answering the door,’ Lizzie said. ‘You can turn me into a pillar of salt if you want, but I’m going.’

It wasn’t worth arguing about. He followed her, of course, though she wasn’t aware of him, and he waited behind her left shoulder, out of sight, as she unlocked the front door and opened it. He’d considered keeping it locked, but the man on the other side wasn’t going to give up, and the noise he was making annoyed Elric. The sooner Lizzie faced him, the sooner he’d go away and Elric could get on with his mission.

He moved out of the way as she opened the door, shielding himself from the intruder. The man standing in the doorway was negligible; Elric was sorely tempted to flick his hand in his direction and make him disappear, but he suspected Lizzie wouldn’t like that.

‘What took you so long, Lizzie?’ the man demanded. ‘Sometimes I think you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached. I tried calling you but your telephones aren’t working.’

‘They’re not?’ she said, glancing over her shoulder toward the kitchen, looking straight through him, not realizing he was directly behind her.

‘I need an answer about the date. You said you were going to tell your sisters about us. July twelfth works best for me – it’s a slow time at work and I can afford to take a couple of days off for a honeymoon without it affecting my career. If your sisters put up a battle, then the next best time is mid-August, but I don’t see what it has to do with them. They don’t like me anyway.’

And who could blame them? Elric thought. He hadn’t paid any attention to the diamond on Lizzie’s left hand. No wonder; it was so small it would take a magnifying glass to see it.

He took another long look at the man who’d interrupted them. Why in the world would Lizzie choose someone like this as a mate? He was handsome enough, Elric supposed, in a toothy, all-American way, but he was quite possibly the most ordinary man Elric had ever seen. He’d always believed everyone had some touch of magic, some hidden gift, no matter how small. For the first time he was beginning to doubt that.

Marriage to a man like this would strip Lizzie’s powers from her and leave her as ordinary as he was. He really ought to encourage her to marry this idiot and abandon her abilities. Safer for everyone.

‘Charles, I really can’t talk about this now,’ she said. ‘I’m working on something-

‘Those silly experiments? Honestly, Lizzie, you need to grow out of that – it’s time for you to settle down,’ he said with exasperated, condescending affection. ‘The sooner we get married the sooner you can put all that silly stuff behind you.’

No, Elric really didn’t like Charles, and the fact that he was temporarily engaged to the woman in front of him surely had nothing to do with it.

‘I don’t want to argue, Charles. I haven’t had a chance to talk to my sisters – something came up this morning – but I promise as soon as they come home I’ll tell them about our engagement and see if the date works for them. And it’s not that they don’t like you – they don’t know you. I’m just worried they’ll think it too soon – we’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks.’

‘I’m a man who makes up his mind,’ he said, smug. ‘I took one look at you and knew you’d make the perfect wife.’

‘Fine. In the meantime I need to-’

‘Is someone here?’ Charles demanded, suddenly suspicious.

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m just trying to get some work done.’

But Charles had already shoved past her, and Elric moved out of the way so Charles wouldn’t run into him. Someone like Charles would never see him, but even Elric couldn’t make his corporeal form disappear.

Lizzie went racing after Charles into the kitchen, then came to a halt, doubt and confusion on her face. She glanced behind her, looking directly at Elric without seeing him, but for a moment her gaze narrowed, and he wondered if it was possible for her to look past the veil he’d put up. No, she was too young, too untried, and he was too good. But that moment of uncertainty in her blue eyes had been unnerving.

She turned back, and he could see her shoulders relax. ‘No one’s here, Charles. Don’t you need to be at work?’

‘If we’re alone in the house maybe we could go into your bedroom…’

Lizzie’s aversion was so strong it cut through his own illogical fury. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, taking his arm and pulling him toward the door.

‘And you certainly don’t want me watching,’ he whispered in her ear. She jumped, banging her elbow against the doorframe.

Charles was already at the door, dutifully enough. ‘What did you say?’

‘Nothing,’ she said, rubbing her elbow. ‘I just said you ought to get to work.’

‘I thought you whispered something.’

‘Why would I do that?’

Charles, totally without imagination, shrugged. ‘You sure you’re alone?’

‘Do you want to check my bedroom?’

‘Not a good idea,’ Elric whispered.

‘There it is again!’ Charles said. ‘That whispering sound.’

‘It’s the wind,’ she said. ‘There’s a storm coming. You need to get back to work.’

‘I need to get back to work,’ Charles said. He leaned forward and kissed her, a closed-mouth, possessive kiss on Lizzie’s soft mouth, and Elric decided he hated him. Intensely.

‘You’ll call me tomorrow,’ Lizzie said in the same dulcet tone.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ Charles said, again as if he’d just thought of it himself. Miss Lizzie had more skills than Elric had realized. What else was she hiding?

He waited until the door was closed behind Charles, waited until he heard the sound of his car drive away, and then he dropped the veil, and Lizzie jumped.

‘You do that again,’ she said, ‘and I’ll… make you wish you’d never come here.’

It was too late for that. He looked at Lizzie’s badly kissed mouth, and wondered just how much trouble he was in.

Mare pounded the streets of Salem’s Fork in her blue running shorts, trying to obliterate the morning from her memory. Her argument with Dee was easy to evict, she’d been ignoring Dee’s arguments for years, but that coppery, dusty, sunny dream stayed with her, which was ridiculous. She did not miss Christopher Duncan in the slightest. Crash. What kind of a man had a nickname like that? Especially a guy who rode a motorcycle; there was a vote of confidence for you.

She turned up the path to the top of the mountain and the circle of stones the locals called ‘the Big Rocks’ with ‘the Great Big Rock’ in the center. That was a mistake; she and Crash had made love up there at least a thousand times, maybe more, although they’d only been together for two years, so maybe not, but it had been wonderful. The thought of him made her dizzy now, so when she ran back down the mountain she was in a lousy mood. Stopping at the Greasy Fork diner for a doughnut and orange juice, and having Pauline the waitress point out that eating a doughnut wasn’t good for her, did not improve her morning. Running past Mother’s Tattoos and seeing Mother wave at her gave her the warm wash of peace Mother always did, so that was something, but getting home and hearing Lizzie talking to herself in her workroom and not getting a chance to apologize to her for being snippy at breakfast was awful.

What is it with the universe this morning? Mare thought. First with the dust and the daydream and now with the general thwarting. She shook her head and went to shower and then changed into the white overalls she’d painted with the Anti-Pesto logo from The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, put on her black-rimmed, pink-lensed, heart-shaped sunglasses, and then walked the quarter mile to the red plastic wonders of Value Video!!, where things were going to go her way. Or else.

‘Hello, Mare!’ Dreama, their little blond counter clerk, sang out as Mare stormed in. ‘Ooooooh, the coveralls look good! Nice job on the Anti-Pesto logo!’

‘Thank you.’ Mare slammed her bag on the counter. ‘The universe is behaving badly, so I will be making adjustments.’ Then she smiled at Dreama. ‘You, however, are always good. How’s my favorite apprentice?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, Mare,’ Dreama said, straightening her baby-blue sweater, her ponytail bobbing.

‘Not fine,’ Mare said.

Dreama winced. ‘I’m glorious, thank you, Mare.’

‘Damn straight.’ Mare patted her shoulder. ‘So, what’s new at Value Video!!?’

Dreama leaned forward. ‘There’s this gorgeous guy in the office with William.’

Mare thought, Crash, and then mentally slapped herself. She had no idea where Crash Duncan was, but she was positive he wasn’t in the manager’s office in the Salem’s Fork Value Video!!

Dreama jerked her head at the door that said manager in gold stick-on letters, her round face wide-eyed. ‘He’s a vice president from headquarters.’

Mare tilted her head and thought about it. Crash had been gone for a while. There was an off chance he could have made it big and come back as a Value Video!! VP. It didn’t seem like him, but still…

Dreama leaned still closer, her pouty lips parted in wonder. ‘I think they heard about William trying to off himself

‘William was not trying to off himself.’ Mare frowned at the door, aware of the new threat. ‘What does the head office want with William? He didn’t try to hang himself in front of the customers.’ Of course, if the VP was Crash, it wasn’t a problem. She could take care of Crash.

‘The VP looks just like Jude Law.’ Dreama sighed, obviously dazzled.

‘Oh,’ Mare said, fighting her disappointment. Crash didn’t look like Jude Law. Crash looked like a really good-looking biker. Of course, there had never been any chance the VP was Crash. That had been dumb-

‘I swear to God,’ Dreama said, ‘I thought it really was Jude. And you want to know what’s funny? His name is Jude. Look.’

Dreama shoved a business card at her and Mare took it. Under the Value Video!! logo it said,

JUDE GREEN,

VICE PRESIDENT SALES.

‘He’s really gorgeous,’ Dreama said. ‘Oh-my-God gorgeous. And he just came back from the Italian office-’

‘Value Video!! has an Italian office?’ Mare said, stunned.

‘So he says “ciao” a lot and it’s so cool,’ Dreama said. And did I say he’s gorgeous?’

‘Gorgeous men do not faze us, Dreama,’ Mare said, giving the card back, reality making her cranky again. ‘They are merely flesh and blood, arranged in a pleasing manner. They too shall pass, while we remain immutable and eternal. And, of course, unfazable. That’s why we rule the universe.’

‘Yes, Mare,’ Dreama said.

Mare gave the situation some thought. Okay, Crash hadn’t come back, but if she played everything right and William didn’t do a reprise with the rope in front of the VP she might get a raise out of this. She looked around the store, trying to see it from a vice president’s point of view. Aside from the mess of returns on the counter, the place looked pretty good, several customers already there, mostly kids but they were being quiet, nothing to get a VP upset. Mare frowned as the fact of the kids being there registered. ‘What are all these kids doing in here? What are you doing in here? Get back to school. That’s all we need is the head office busting us for illegal use of high school help.’

‘Teacher conference day,’ Dreama said. ‘I’m legal. Mare, he is so hot.’

‘We’re unfazable, Dreama.’ Mare went behind the counter to clean up the mess on the desktop. She stacked the DVDs and then started sorting the receipts before the VP could get a look at the chaos and harass William into looking for more rope.

‘I bet his suit is Armani,’ Dreama said. ‘I bet he’s rich.’

‘Is there anything I need to know?’ Mare said, comparing two receipts. ‘You know, about the store?’

‘One of the beanbag chairs sprung a leak. I tried to fix it with duct tape, but I think it’s dead. He has green eyes, Mare. He’s like-’

Dreama hoisted herself up on the counter and smacked into the stack of DVDs, and Mare, her hands full of receipts, caught them with her mind, blipping down them mentally to hold each one separately, trying to dampen any little blue sparks so Dreama didn’t see. She shot a glance at Dreama, who was still talking, all Jude Green all the time.

Okay, then, Mare thought and let go of the DVDs. She looked at the stack with pride: she was getting good. It had taken years of practice, but now with concentration, she could stack DVDs with her mind almost as well as with her hands.

God, she had the suckiest power in the family.

Mare realized that Dreama had stopped talking and was smiling past her, swinging her legs against the counter and biting her lower lip. Mare turned around.

Ah, yes, the VP Smooth gleaming blond hair. Glistening deep green eyes. A broad curving smile. All aimed at her, dressed in a very expensive charcoal-gray suit and very ugly green tie, topped off with a silver tie tack that gleamed almost as brightly as his teeth. Gimme a raise, Pretty Boy.

‘Miss O’Brien?’ the vision said. ‘Ciao! I’m Jude Green, vice president in charge of sales for Value Video!!’ He took in her coveralls and faltered a little, evidently expecting more tailoring and less Anti-Pesto from his assistant managers.

Ciao? ‘Nice to meet you, Jude.’ Mare shook his hand. It was a little damp, but not completely offputting. ‘So, you’re from Italy?’

He nodded. ‘Originally from France, but then we migrated to Italy. Just over the border.’

‘Oh, you’re French,’ Dreama said, practically swooning.

He looked at Mare’s overalls again, shook his head, and then soldiered on. ‘I’d like to talk to you.’

‘I’ll just go check that beanbag chair.’ Dreama boosted herself off the counter, grinning like an idiot.

Mare smiled at the VP but before he could say anything, Brandon Upshot, the O’Briens’ paper boy, came up to the counter with a girl who looked familiar, which wasn’t unusual. Everybody looked familiar in Salem’s Fork. What didn’t look familiar was Brandon looking nervous. Brandon could hit the front porch with the daily paper dead center, eyes closed, while riding his bike no hands, just like magic. Brandon had nerves of steel.

Brandon looked like he was going to throw up.

First girlfriend, Mare thought and told the VP ‘With you in a minute.’ She smiled at Brandon. I’m Queen of the Universe and I’ve got your back, babe. Calm down.

‘We’d like to reserve the love seat for the nine o’clock show,’ the girl said, a giggle in her voice, and Brandon blushed.

‘Let me check.’ Mare pulled out the clipboard that listed the seating available. ‘For the nine o’clock, the big couch is gone and the two La-Z-Boys, and all the beanbag chairs, but amazingly yes, the love seat is available and is now yours for the nine o’clock showing of The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. Excellent choice, Brandon.’

The girl looked at him with new respect. People knew Brandon. Brandon was somebody.

Brandon got calmer.

The VP moved closer.

Watch and see how the pros do customer service in Salem’s Fork, Ciao-hound. Mare smiled at the girl. ‘Do I know you?’

‘I’m Katie Rose,’ the girl said. ‘My mom works at the bank with your sister.’

‘Oh, sure, Linda Rose, right?’ When Katie nodded, Mare said, ‘Good to see you again, Katie.’ She handed the clipboard to Brandon. ‘Write your name and Katie’s and your phone number right there.’ She pointed at the blank space for the love seat sign-up.

Brandon took the pencil with nervous fingers, and Mare saw it start to roll out of his loose grasp. She froze it long enough for him to get a grip on it and begin the serious business of writing his name and Katie’s together on the same line, then she glanced at Katie. She was smiling at Brandon, adoration in her eyes.

I used to smile at Crash like that, Mare thought, and then evicted Crash from her mind to glance back at Jude Green. He was watching her, not the customers. So much for his interest in public relations. ‘So you’re a vice president,’ she said to him, folding her arms and leaning back against the counter. ‘What brings you to Salem’s Fork?’

Jude moved a little closer. ‘We understand you had a disturbing event this week.’

‘Disturbing?’ Mare said, thinking, Oh, hell, William. ‘I don’t recall anything disturbing. There’s never anything disturbing here. We don’t do disturbing. Everything’s under control.’ My control. Gimme a raise and go away.

A sulky boy came up to the counter and shoved Brandon aside to drop Girls Gone Wild Cleveland in front of her. ‘Great flick,’ the boy said to Mare. He nudged the tall kid who’d followed him to the counter. ‘It’s got naked chicks in it. Topless.’

He looked back at Mare as if to say, How about that, baby? and she picked up the DVD to sign it out, repressing the urge to smack him upside the head with it since Jude Green was standing right there. The VP was stifling her flair. Another good reason to become queen of Value Video!!: stomp out all that flairstifling.

‘Cool. Naked chicks,’ the other kid said. Mare squinted at him. He looked to be a junior in high school. One of the Bannisters. They all had those noses that turned up at the end like elf shoes.

Mare ran the rental automatically while she tried to figure out Jude Green’s angle – why would he care about William and the rope? – and kept an eye on the sulky kid.

‘You’re coming back here to see a puppet movie?’ he said to Brandon. ‘Chick flick. Guess she picks out the movies, huh?’

Brandon flushed, Katie stepped closer to him, and Mare gritted her teeth.

Jude Green was still watching. Not a good time to take steps with a customer.

‘Whipped,’ the sulky boy said to Brandon.

On the other hand, Mare thought, this is my universe.

‘You,’ she said to the sulky boy, handing him his credit card receipt. ‘Sign that. And you,’ she said, turning to the younger boy. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Algy Bannister,’ the tall kid said, looking wary.

‘Algy.’ Mare leaned forward. ‘Before you now are two possibilities, two paths you may take. One is represented by your buddy here’ – she jerked her thumb at the sulky boy -’the guy with the boobs-and-butts movie. The other is represented by Brandon, the one coming back to see Wallace and Gromit solve The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. You understand the choice that lies before you, grasshopper, a choice that could determine your future happiness and satisfaction?’

‘Hell, yes,’ Algy said, and reached for Girls Gone Wild.

Mare slammed her hand down on it, making Jude jump. ‘One thing to consider. This guy you’re with…’ She looked at the sulky boy’s Value Video!! membership card. ‘Shawn. Shawn is going home with you tonight to watch this video, right?’

‘Right,’ Algy said, confused.

‘But Brandon is going to be sitting on a love seat tonight with his arm around Katie.’

Algy looked over at Katie, now linking her hand through Brandon’s arm protectively.

‘The thing about chick flicks,’ Mare said to Algy, ‘is that chicks like them.’ She picked up Girls Gone Wild and handed it to Shawn. ‘Here’s your dick flick. Enjoy’

‘Funny,’ Shawn said, handing back the signed receipt.

Algy said, ‘Yeah, funny,’ but he watched Katie smile at Brandon.

‘Choose wisely,’ Mare said. ‘Do not listen to the words of others who have chosen a lesser path, but follow your bliss.’

Shawn snorted but he looked confused.

Algy thought about it. ‘Girls Gone Wild’ he said defiantly, and high-fived with Shawn.

Mare shook her head sadly as they left, probably taking her raise with them. ‘Next thing you know, it’ll be human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together.’

‘Pardon?’ Jude said.

‘Ghostbusters,’ Mare said, and took the clipboard from Brandon and Katie, smiling at them as they left.

‘So everything’s under control,’ Jude said with a definite undercurrent of censure in his voice.

‘Yes,’ Mare said. ‘Algy gets to choose. It’s that whole free will thing.’

‘That doesn’t sound like control to me.’

Mare frowned at him. ‘Do not confuse control with tyranny, Jude. That mistake has screwed up entire continents. Imagine what it could do to a video store.’ She cocked her head at him. ‘So, why are you here?’

‘Your manager tried to hang himself,’ Jude said.

‘Not really.’ Mare went back to tidying up the counter, radiating unconcern as hard as possible. ‘Besides, it’s all taken care of now, William is just fine, and everything is under control.’

‘Could you tell me what happened, please?’

Mare sighed and leaned back against the counter. ‘Well, I’m in charge of the weekend events and tonight we’re showing Curse of the Were-Rabbit and tomorrow night Corpse Bride, and then Sunday we’re doing a triple feature of the Were-Rabbit, Corpse Bride, and Howl’s Moving Castle, so when I was making the posters earlier this week, I wanted to call it ‘Scare the Shit Out of Your Kids Weekend,’ but William said I couldn’t advertise anything with ‘shit’ in it. So I changed it to ‘Scare the Stuffing Out of Your Kids Weekend’ and did this display with dolls with the stuffing coming out of them, but William said that was too gruesome. So then I put up a sign that said, ‘Scare Your Kids Silly Weekend’ with photos of kids crossing their eyes and sticking their tongues out at the camera, and William went in the back room and tried to hang himself, and I found him and cut him down. And we’ve got almost a hundred people signed up to come for the three days combined and that’s not counting the dropins so I’m thinking it’s going to be another huge success for the Salem’s Fork Value Video!!’ She beamed at him.

Jude did not beam back. ‘As I understand it, he talked to you before he hung himself.’

‘Well, yes, but that wasn’t because of me,’ Mare said, thinking, Jesus wept, what is this, Pin It on Mare Weekend? ‘He’d brought the rope from home.’

‘And…’ Jude consulted his clipboard. ‘He left a note that said, ‘Blame it on Netflix.’

‘Who told you about the note?’

‘Uh,’ Jude said, his eyes sliding over to where Dreama was restocking the games, looking like an efficient Catholic School Girl, which was probably a vice-presidential fantasy.

Dreama looked up and saw him looking at her and blushed.

Traitor, Mare thought and turned back to Jude, smiling. ‘Look, it wasn’t that big a deal. The rope would have broken anyway. It was really more like twine. I think it was a cry for help. Netflix really does depress the hell out of him. And anyway, it’s over. It’s fine. Moving on now-’

‘So you’ve been acting as manager all week.’ Jude turned back to survey the store. ‘Putting up all these displays-’

‘No, no, William’s been quieter but he’s been managing the place. I always do the promotion stuff. We’re right back to normal.’

‘Normal being Algy getting his lesson in free will.’

‘And Brandon and Katie getting their love seat to watch Wallace and Gromit,’ Mare pointed out. ‘Everybody’s happy. There are no problems here. We are back to normal. Not that we ever left normal. We are normal twenty-four/seven.’ She smiled, determinedly cheerful.

‘I wouldn’t call these displays normal. Unorthodox, maybe.’

‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’ Mare smiled at him harder. ‘Here’s the problem, Jude. The people who do the Value Video!! displays have souls made of plywood. They are pressed and cut to measure, Jude, they have no flair. I have flair’

Jude looked around. ‘Yes, Miss O’Brien, I would have to agree you have flair. The furniture alone-’

‘Isn’t it great?’ Mare put as much bounce in her voice as possible. ‘It’s amazing the things people leave out in the street. A little paint and it’s better than new.’

‘I see,’ Jude said. And then there’s the display of ‘Movies

That Are Much Worse Than They Sound’ over there. It’s almost empty.’

‘We can’t keep it filled, Jude,’ Mare said. ‘People just have to see for themselves. We’ve had to order more copies of Bell, Book, and Candle and Bewitched.’

And the “Cry Till You Puke” display?’

Mare leaned closer, trying to look confidential and trusting. ‘You know, weepers are not my thing. But if you’re into them, you really want to go the whole way. Beaches, Terms of Endearment, Shadowlands… Actually, Shadowlands is a damn good movie. Anyway, you want to be pointed to the ones that are going to get you there. It’s like emotional porn, you know? It isn’t really the story that matters, it’s getting that release.’

‘I see,’ Jude said, looking more interested.

‘Because that’s really what we’re selling here,’ Mare said. ‘Emotional catharsis, vicarious release. You want to experience the hell of war without getting killed? We have “Movies Your Recruiter Doesn’t Want You to See.” You want to know what it’s like to fall in love without having to get a background check on the person you’re dating? We got “Bad Dates Gone Good.” You want to know-’

‘Right,’ Jude said. ‘That’s all very interesting.’

‘I’ve been doing this for a while, Jude. Our sales are up. William was really happy about that. I think that’s why he used such thin rope. He knew there were good times ahead.’ She leaned back against the counter. ‘I can’t believe the central office sent you down here because William had one bad day.’

‘They didn’t.’

Jude opened his mouth to go on and Mare braced herself for whatever was coming next, but then the door opened again and Algy came in, looking furtive.

‘Back with you in a minute,’ Mare said to Jude, and turned to face Algy. ‘Have you reconsidered your choice, grasshopper?’

‘Why do you keep calling me that?’ Algy said. Mare sighed. ‘What do you want?’

Algy leaned over the counter, looking around to make sure he wasn’t overheard. ‘What kind of movies do chicks like?’

‘Luckily for you, I have a list.’ Mare reached under the counter for her accordion file of recommendations and flipped through it until she found one that was headed ‘Movies Girls Like.’ She pulled it out and handed it to him. ‘Of course it depends on the girl. But I have it broken down into the most common stereotypes.’

Algy squinted at the list. ‘Yeah. This is good.’

‘And I’m pretty sure that if you reserve it now, the love seat is still open for the six-thirty show. If you know a girl, I mean.’

‘I know a girl,’ Algy said, looking first outraged, then thoughtful. ‘Yeah. Put me down for that.’

Mare handed him the clipboard. ‘Put yourself down.’

Algy filled out the clipboard and handed it back.’ He’d left the space for the other name blank. Probably a good idea until he’d found somebody to say yes.

‘You have chosen wisely,’ Mare intoned, and when Algy frowned at her, she said, ‘That’s from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.’

Algy looked confused again. So did Jude.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mare said. ‘Just remember: no Girls Gone Wild. Ever.’

‘Right.’ Algy folded up his list and stuffed it in his pocket. ‘Thanks.’ He leaned closer. ‘Don’t tell Shawn.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Mare stashed her recommendations folder under the counter again as the door closed behind Algy. Then she turned back to Jude.

‘That’s amazing,’ he said. ‘You are unstoppable.’

I know.’

‘Dreama said you were Queen of the Universe, but I thought she was joking.’

‘She wasn’t. So why are you here exactly?’

He flashed his smile at her, and she saw how attractive he was, now that he wasn’t criticizing the place. ‘The head office sent me down because your sales have consistently been the highest in the area even though you have a relatively small customer base.’ He stepped closer. I’m assuming that’s because of you.’

‘And William,’ Mare said. ‘So we’re doing good. That’s great. Thanks for stopping by to tell us. Anything else’?’ Like a raise?

‘Oh, yes.’ He flashed his movie-star smile again. ‘I was sent to find out why the store was thriving and I think I have.’ He held out his hand. ‘Congratulations, Miss O’Brien. You are now the new manager of Salem’s Value Video!! Your salary will, of course, double.’

He went on but his words faded as the dusty Tuscan sunlight swirled into the store in a cloud of coppery dust and that damn baby laughed again and Mare felt the whole place swing around her, and she said, ‘No.’

Jude stopped. ‘No?’

Mare swallowed. ‘No.’ She put her hand out to the counter, her whole world unsteady, thinking, Tell him yes, you idiot, it’s a raise, but she knew she didn’t want it, clear as that sunshine. ‘No, thank you, no, I don’t want to be manager.’

Jude blinked slowly, his eyelids moving like shutters. ‘Was it the part where I said you’d have to behave normally, no funny stuff?’

‘No,’ Mare said, surprised. ‘I missed that part. What happened to William?’

‘We feel William will be happier in another line of work.’

‘No.’ Mare took a deep breath, surer every time she said it. ‘No, no, no.’ She took a step back and bumped her butt into the counter, knocking off a pencil and letting it roll to the floor. ‘We need William here. He’s the voice of reason. He does math. We need William as manager. I refuse to be manager. Go back in that office and tell William he still has a job.’

Jude picked up the pencil and handed it to her. ‘Miss O’Brien… may I call you Mare?’

Mare repressed an exasperated sigh. ‘Sure, Jude.’

‘Mare, I realize that some women have a fear of success-’

‘I’m not afraid of success. I embrace success. Success and I are practically twin souls. I just don’t want to manage a video store. Where’s the fun in that?’ As soon as she said it, she knew it was true.

‘Well, this.’ Jude gestured to the promotional displays.

‘Yes, but if I’m manager I have to have somebody else do that while I do the ordering and the books and all the dull gray dead stuff. No. No, no, no. Go tell William he’s manager again. I’ll wait here.’ Mare folded her arms and stared at him. ‘Go on.’

‘Well…’ Jude leaned against the counter, closer to her, smelling faintly of good, expensive cologne. He had a really large Adam’s apple, but on the other hand, his suit was very good. You couldn’t have everything. ‘There is another possibility’

‘William is still the manager.’

‘Yes, fine, William’s the manager,’ Jude said. ‘But I’m really intrigued by your displays. I think other stores in the chain could benefit from your imagination. Would you be open to working in the promotions department at the head office in New York City?’

‘You’re kidding.’ Mare frowned. ‘The promotions are designed in New York? You’d think they’d be more creative there. Greatest city in the world and their idea of a hot promotion is Two for One Tuesdays? Jeez.’

‘That’s why they need you,’ Jude said. ‘I can arrange for you to work outside the department, be your own boss. I get the feeling you don’t respond well to authority’

‘Authority has never responded well to me.’ Mare stared off into space for a moment, considering this new possibility. ‘New York. Huh. That could be good. The Statue of Liberty. I’ve always considered her a kindred spirit. Maybe…’ The dusty Tuscan sun tried to swirl in again, but she kicked its ass out of her frontal lobe. She had a real life to live here. And pay for.

‘Uh, well, that’s good,’ Jude said, clearly lost. He polished his tie tack with his finger for a moment and then he cleared his throat. ‘It’s Friday, so it’s going to take me a while to pursue this, I’ll have to make some calls, but can I say that you would be interested in relocating to New York?’

Mare almost said yes, and then remembered Dee and Lizzie. Would they like New York? Art museums for Dee, the New York Library for Lizzie, lots of anonymity, a good place to hide from Xan. It could work. ‘I’ll have to ask my sisters.’

‘For permission? Surely you’re old enough to make this decision on your own.’

‘To see if they want to move,’ Mare said. ‘We stick together’ We have to. We have strange and unusual powers, Jude. Lizzie could change you into a toad before you could polish your Rolex. ‘But I’m interested, yes. Go ahead and make your calls. And tell William he’s still the manager.’

‘Yes, Mare,’ Jude said and went back to the office.

Mare turned and crooked her finger at Dreama.

‘What?’ Dreama said as she got closer.

‘So you told Jude about William and the rope,’ Mare said.

Dreama flushed again. She put her hands behind her back and stuck her chin out, trying for innocence and missing by a mile. ‘He was asking me things and I just told him. It slipped out. He’s so gorgeous, Mare, don’t you just want to tell him everything?’

‘No,’ Mare said. And neither do you. You almost got William fired.’

‘Yes, but then you could be manager,’ Dreama said.

‘So you had a long talk with Jude,’ Mare said severely.

Dreama leaned closer. ‘You’d be a much better manager, Mare. You really would. William hates being manager.’

‘So would I. Listen to me.’ Mare fixed her with a steely gaze. ‘Do not tell Jude anything else. Ever. We are us and they are them. Got it?’

Dreama looked annoyed. ‘Then how are you ever going to get a promotion? You said you were gonna be queen of Value Video!! Well, you’re gonna need a promotion for-’

‘I changed my mind,’ Mare said, equally annoyed because she didn’t know what the hell she was doing, either. ‘Queens of the Universe do not get into ruts, Dreama. They stay fluid and unpredictable-’

The door chime rang and Mare turned to smile and then sucked in her breath, like a punch to the stomach. He stood there, tall and dark and blue-eyed as ever, the dusty Tuscan sunlight behind him, and Mare thought he was a hallucination and almost had words with her frontal lobe until Dreama said, ‘Oh, my,’ and then she put up her hand to ward him off and knocked over the stack of DVDs, scattering them all over her nice, tidy desktop.

‘Hello, Mare,’ he said and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking pretty much exactly the way he’d looked five years before when she’d been so in love with him that the world had tilted sideways every time she’d looked at him. ‘Uh, I’m back.’ He waited a minute while she stood breathless, speechless, and then he said, ‘You gonna say anything?’

‘Hello, Crash,’ Mare said, hating it that her voice cracked, and then she went toward him and all that sunlight, which wasn’t easy because the world was tilting again.

Xan put the shallow silver bowl in front of the see glass, now a mirror on her silver-paneled wall. As she reached to take down a gilded box from the shelf beside it, the angle of light changed and she caught her own reflection. The light of day wasn’t kind to a woman at midlife, she thought.

She looked closer. Even with magic and plastic surgery, the skin lost elasticity. Last night Vincent had leaned close to her, his tux immaculate in the low light of the restaurant, his white hair perfectly styled, and said, ‘We should always dine by candlelight,’ and she’d been fairly sure there’d been a snicker in his voice.

But then, Vincent was such a bastard. A gorgeous one if you liked graying distinguished men who could have headed the cast of an eighties television show, and adequately talented in bed if you liked choreography and a man who kept looking in the mirror admiring his own technique, but his charm was wearing thin. Thank God she was almost done with him. She was going to take a great deal of pleasure in casting Vincent aside, especially in front of everyone in their social circle, all those smirkers who’d watched last night while he’d flirted with a very young brown-haired witch named Jennifer, whose weight seemed to be entirely concentrated in her bust and her behind, which was evidently where she kept her brains if she thought Vincent was a catch. Xan had smiled, outwardly amused but inwardly seething that the moron would humiliate her in her own circle. It shouldn’t matter what any of them thought, she was the most powerful of all of them, they were just her court…

She had been the most powerful of all of them.

Age, she thought. Age brings wisdom. Who the hell wants wisdom?

Youth and power. That was-

Somebody sneezed behind her and she jerked back. ‘Sweet hell, Maxine, how did you get in here again?’

‘The portal-’

‘I closed the portal.’

‘Well, there was a little crack of light and I kind of-’ I’m going to have you killed and stuffed. ‘What do you want, Maxine?’

‘Oh. Right. Well, it’s coming up on Friday night. Martinis would really sell-’

‘Maxine, you will do nothing to call attention to yourself or the diner until Monday.’ Xan put down the gilt box and began to wave her hand.

‘No!’ Maxine said, waving both of hers. ‘Wait! I have news! There’s a new video store guy named Jude. He’s your guy for Mare, right?’

‘Yes?’ Xan said, stopping in mid-wave.

‘Well, he’s really cute,’ Maxine said. ‘Looks just like Jude Law. But the one everybody is talking about is the writer guy on the motorcycle. Ohmigod. Dee won the hottie lottery with that one.’

‘Thank you,’ Xan said icily.

‘Haven’t seen the third one. Lizzie’s.’

Elric. He made Vincent look like a roadie for a boy band. ‘He’s there.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ Maxine hesitated.

Xan sighed. ‘What is it, Maxine?’

‘Well, I really don’t know what’s good stuff to tell you and what isn’t. It would help if I knew what these guys were doing in town.’

Xan thought about turning Maxine into a rabbit now, but she needed her. ‘All right.’

Maxine came closer, glancing at the silver bowl and the liquid simmering there, probably avid to ask what it was but wisely keeping her mouth shut. Even Maxine has a learning curve.

Xan smiled at her. ‘I am concerned about my nieces, so I have cast a spell to bring them their True Loves.’

Maxine’s mouth dropped open. ‘You can do that?’ Xan looked at her, and Maxine nodded like a bobble-head doll. ‘Of course you can do that, you can do anything, but I mean, geez, do you know what kind of money you could make doing that for real? I mean, people would pay hundreds of dollars for that kind of stuff’

‘Right, Maxine,’ Xan said. ‘Hundreds of dollars. May I go on?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Maxine said. ‘This is good stuff.’

‘I’m afraid that just bringing the men into Salem’s Fork won’t be enough. The girls are very stubborn. So I have to keep an eye on the way their romances are going.’ I have to make sure that Dee knows Danny hates magic so that she’ll give her power up to me. I have to make sure that Elric takes Lizzie’s power from her because she’s too dangerous and gives it to me. And I have to make sure that Mare discards her magic for earthly power so that I can take it for myself. ‘You know how easily young girls can throw away good men through inexperience.’

‘I know.’ Maxine’s face crumpled. ‘My Boyd. If I could do it all over again-’

‘I’m sure,’ Xan said. ‘So we’re keeping an eye on Dee and Danny, Lizzie and Elric, and Mare and Jude.’

‘Lizzie and who?’

‘Elric,’ Xan said. ‘He’s probably not going to be outside much. Tall, blond, beautiful, you’ll know him if you see him.’

‘Wow,’ Maxine said. ‘You sure are good to your nieces.’

‘Yes,’ Xan said. ‘I sure am.’

She turned back to the see glass where Danny was heading for the bank; inside Dee was bent over her desk. Lizzie was at the kitchen sink, doing dishes; Xan sighed for a woman so lacking in passion that she’d do dishes alone in a house with Elric. And Mare was heading for the diner, probably meeting Jude there for lunch; who could resist a movie-star-handsome boss who’d just offered her the promotion of her dreams?

She opened the gilt box and sprinkled the contents into her right hand until the red spicy powder made a mound there. Then she waved her left hand over the bowl, drawing up a spiral of vapor, then another, then another, until she had the three coiling together, a silver arabesque above the bowl in front of the see glass.

‘Wow,’ Maxine said.

‘Quiet,’ Xan said. A little refresher course in ‘Xan Is

Magic, Don’t Disobey Her’ wouldn’t hurt Maxine. ‘This is an impulse spell, Maxine. It’s very delicate. Don’t move.’

‘Right,’ Maxine said, leaning closer to see. Xan thought about explaining ‘don’t move’ in detail, but since an impulse spell was one of the sturdiest spells in existence, she decided to let Maxine go.

Xan held her right hand in the middle of the vapor arabesque and waited. In the see glass, Danny walked into the bank and began to talk to Dee. Xan looked closer at the house and saw Elric standing behind Lizzie in the kitchen window. And much harder to see, Mare was sitting in the diner with someone, leaning forward-

Xan gently blew the red powder through the arabesque and into the see glass, and the peppery vapor spiraled into the see glass, down into Salem’s Fork, into a bank, a kitchen, a diner-

‘Wow,’ Maxine said, her eyes wide. ‘It’s lunchtime, Maxine,’ Xan said. ‘Go sling hash.’

‘But,’ Maxine said, and Xan waved her hand and then there was silence.

In the see glass, Maxine reappeared in the Dumpster, staggering among the green plastic bags.

Xan closed the portal and stuck a psychic brick behind it. Find a crack in that, Maxine, she thought and then poured herself a glass of wine.

As she sat back with her wine, the see glass gave her back her reflection. ‘Only by candlelight,’ Vincent had said. And the bastard was older than she was.

But if she had the girls’ powers, she’d also have the girls’ psychic energy, all that juice flowing through her veins. She closed her eyes and imagined the swell of youth again. The loss of power probably wouldn’t hurt the girls if she took it carefully; they’d probably age like normal humans, they’d fit right in and have the ordinary lives they craved, but she…

She’d be young again.

And then she could put that bastard Vincent in the Dumpster with Maxine.

She shifted again to watch Maxine in the see glass, outside the Dumpster now, patting down her uniform. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t wait. The memory came back to her of Vincent and that little witch Jennifer last night, she of the big brown eyes and big brown hair and very small power, laughing in a corner while the rest of the party watched Xan avidly. If Vincent was going to chase trash, Xan could at least put him in the vicinity of it.

The thought of impeccable, immaculate, tuxedocald Vincent in a diner Dumpster in Salem’s Fork, Virginia, cheered Xan so much, she smiled.

And then she looked closer at the glass…

Dee yanked her skirt into a more comfortable position and prayed for the day to pass. This was the fifth time in three hours she’d had to stand, wriggle, and then sit back down, just to get some relief. She had a headache from the sudden cellular disruption. She was still jumpy from the close call she’d had that morning. And she was dressed in heavy wool and starched cotton.

The good news was that she’d been able to reach Pete Semple’s toolshed and change without attracting any attention except from Pete’s dachshund Eddie, who was used to seeing Dee walk naked out of green fog. The better news was that Pete hadn’t found her clothes and tossed them before she needed them.

The bad news was that the suit she’d stashed with Pete was the heaviest one she owned, meant for winter. Since the day had grown unseasonably warm and muggy, she itched like a mange victim and smelled vaguely like damp motor oil. Worse than that, though, it seemed she’d forgotten to pack underwear. Which was why she kept readjusting her clothes. The wool skirt was bad. The stiff cotton blouse was pure torture.

‘Anything else, there, Dee?’ a gravelly voice asked in her ear.

She jotted down the information she’d just received from Salem’s Fork’s only police detective and fiddled with her Bluetooth. ‘No, Larry. I think a clean police record is all a girl could ask for. Thanks. I really appreciate the help.’

‘Not at all. The chief gave me a heads-up on this guy when he heard he was at your house this morning. I know we didn’t find nothin, but you be careful.’

‘Thanks, Larry. You give my best to Eleanor’

She hung up, checking off another item on her list. She wasn’t going to be caught unprepared again. By the time she got off work, she was going to know everything there was to know about Danny James. Then she was going to make a preemptive strike and surprise him before he surprised her. He could use a little unsettling. Actually, he could use a mallet to the head. Ready or not, here I come, indeed.

Of course it didn’t go the way she planned. God forbid she should ever once be prepared for the disasters in her life. She’d just added her notes from Larry to the ones she’d shoved in her desk drawer when a shadow fell across her desk.

‘No, Mike,’ she said, expecting to see the latest junior VP standing there asking for a sexual harassment suit. ‘I won’t suck your toes and make you a happy man.’

She looked up and froze.

Danny James was standing there right in front of her desk, his hair damp enough to curl, his physique a thing to make grown women weep. Oh, she hadn’t realized it before. His eyes were blue. Not just blue. Cobalt-teal blue. Drop-your-business-suit-and-take-a-sailboat-to-paradise blue. Breathtakingly bright and shrewd as sin. Dee was mesmerized.

‘Ca…’ Embarrassed at the squeak that came out of her throat, she tried again, perfectly aware that her cheeks were flaming. ‘Can I help you?’

She tried so hard to ignore the pure shaft of heat that ripped through her. Sharp heat, sizzling like hot oil in a frying pan. She wondered if Mr James could possibly have felt it, too. His smile sagged, and his eyes had suddenly grown very dark.

‘If sucking toes is part of this bank’s service,’ he said, ‘I’m surprised you don’t have a line all the way around the block.’

Dee flushed like a hormonal teen. Lovely. Multiple humiliations in a single day. ‘Please excuse me. Now, can I help you?’

His smile reappeared. ‘They said I should see you to open an account.’ He held out his hand. ‘You are Deirdre O’Brien?’

Dumbly, Dee took it. He didn’t shake, though. He just held on. Dee just stared.

This had to stop. She’d never reacted to anyone like this in her life. And to make matters worse, he was conjuring up that damn fantasy again. Just a flash, the way it had appeared in that swirl of dust. His skin had been tanned, she would swear it, with just a sheen of sweat across his back, so that it gleamed in the light of the high sun. And his smile. Oh, his smile.

It couldn’t have been his smile. She had to stop this. Ready or not…

She pulled her hand back and cleared her throat. It was better than cursing. ‘May I sit?’ he asked.

He was in a blue open-neck oxford shirt now, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, his jeans newer, but no less obscene. Dee ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips.

‘Uh, of course.’ She gave a limp little wave to the chair across from her. ‘What kind of account do you want, Mr…?’

‘James,’ he said, settling into the chair. ‘Danny James. Didn’t your sister say I’d be by?’

‘Oh.’ She sucked in a breath, trying to look calm. ‘That.’

‘Yes.’ His smile expanded, all teeth and delight. ‘That. I’d like very much to take you to dinner tonight.’

She did not smile back. ‘I thought you were opening an account.’

‘Well, I can do that, too. I just didn’t want to miss you again. I’d really like to talk to you.’

Dee made it a point to open the drawer that held her paperwork. ‘And I really don’t want to talk to you. Exactly what kind of account would you like, Mr James? We have several excellent ones to choose from.’

‘Don’t all those bobby pins hurt your head?’

Dee caught herself before she instinctively reached up to check her chignon. It was her work hair. Clean and tidy and out of the way. Her hair was long and curly and bright red, the banner of an Irish witch, Aunt Xan had always told her. So it was always a battle of wills for control. And yes, the pins did hurt her head. It took a lot to subdue all that unruliness.

‘Oddly enough, Mr James, that doesn’t answer my question. What kind of account did you say?’

How could that grin get brighter? He leaned back in his chair as if he were in his living room. ‘You pick one for me. I’m sure you know better than I.’

Dee sighed, her headache suddenly worse. ‘I really do have work to do, Mr James. If you aren’t here on bank business, I’d have to ask you to excuse me.’

He pulled a checkbook from his breast pocket. ‘But I am. I told you. I’d like to open an account. With… will fifty thousand do?’

Dee almost choked on her tongue. ‘Fifty… yes.’

Her hands actually trembled as she separated out the papers for the interest-bearing checking account – with overdraft protection – and passed them over. And you’d like to transfer that from your bank in Chicago?’

He smiled, an eyebrow lifted. ‘You do research, too, do you?’

‘It’s why God invented Google.’ She pulled out a Third Virginia Bank pen and laid it on top of the forms. ‘From what I’ve learned you are a book researcher, which must pay better than I thought, if you have fifty thousand dollars to throw around. You work for the author Mark Delaney, which is impressive, as he actually does make quite a bit of money and has quite a few literary awards for a horror writer.’

‘Alternative history. Please. And just to set the record straight, you were right to think that researchers don’t make much money. The money’s Mark’s.’

Dee shrugged. ‘You have no wants or warrants, you rent your apartment, and you have current licenses for a motorcycle and a Jeep. I’m still waiting on your credit report. All told, though, pretty boring.’

He grinned up from where he was signing his check with a flourish. ‘Actually, not boring at all. I get to go places other people don’t and talk to people I’d never get to meet and learn things I’ve always wanted to know. Since Mr Delaney doesn’t like to mingle, I get to do it for him. I even get to meet lovely people like you and your sisters. It may not be romantic, but I’m having fun.’

She bet he was. If the reactions she’d seen in town were any indication, he could get a rock to talk to him. And he’d probably enjoy it. For a few moments, she allowed herself to actively envy him. She was stuck here in Office Space central until the day both Lizzie and Mare were safe and independent, and she could learn to control her unfortunate tendency to morph. Researching alternative histories suddenly sounded exciting as hell.

As if to remind herself again of where she belonged, she tapped the form in front of him. ‘I can’t imagine why you would want to open a new checking account for the short time you’ll be here, Mr James, but this should probably be adequate for you.’

He ripped the check off and handed it over. ‘Who said I was going to be here a short time, Ms. O’Brien?’

She tried to stare him down. ‘I did. I’m afraid there’s simply nothing here for you.’

‘You don’t know what I need, though.’

This time she glared. ‘Whatever it is, I don’t have it.’

Oh, crap. Had she really said that? She flushed again, a mottled red that was sincerely unattractive on a redhead, while he made a slow perusal of her, tucked away beneath her boring gray suit and bobby pins.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Miss O’Brien. Are you sure I can’t talk you into dinner?’

She did her best to reclaim her dignity. I’m sure, Mr James.’

‘What about a drink? Surely a drink won’t overset the delicate balance of of the universe.’

A drink. With Danny James. Who was he kidding?

‘Mr James,’ she said, ready to deal him the setdown of his life, when something tickled her nose and she shivered hard, once. ‘I’d love to have a drink.’

Dee wasn’t sure who was more surprised. She did know who was more appalled.

This day was going from bad to worse, Lizzie thought unhappily, staring up at the now visible Elric. Charles’s appearance had been even less welcome than the stranger’s – she’d already been rethinking her precipitous decision to marry him, and seeing him with Elric’s dark, unreadable eyes made her choice seem even more absurd.

‘That’s my fiance,’ she said, unnecessarily.

‘Not for long,’ Elric said, turning and heading back into the kitchen, obviously expecting her to follow. She glanced at the door longingly for a moment, and as if on cue the lock clicked. ‘He’s not your type.’

‘I’m not going to discuss my love life with you,’ she said stiffly. She began scooping up the silverware from the table, including the yellow spoon, and dumped it all in the sink.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Washing dishes,’ she said without turning around. Maybe if she just ignored him he’d go away. ‘We have a deal, my sisters and I. I take care of the household, they bring in the money.’

‘You don’t strike me as the Susie Homemaker type.’

‘I’m not. I like to cook – that way I can mix things together and make something without it exploding or catching fire. Traditional jobs are a bit of a… challenge for me. Things change form when I don’t expect it, and I have a hard time explaining.’

He came up behind her – she didn’t have to turn to feel him, she didn’t have to have any special gifts. He was everywhere. ‘The dishes can wait. I want you to tell me why you’re marrying that weak-minded bully.’

‘He’s not-’

‘You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. I was impressed – that kind of mind magic is very advanced, and doesn’t usually go along with transmutationary gifts. Though maybe that’s why you can control him when everything else in your life is out of your control.’

She turned at that one, glaring at him. Or tried to, but every time she looked at him he seemed to shift a little, those streams of color distracting her. ‘You’re a psychiatrist as well as a charlatan?’ she demanded. ‘Go analyze someone else.’

He was unfazed by her insult. ‘Did I touch a nerve, Elizabeth Alicia? You don’t need a man telling you you’re a useless idiot.’

‘That’s what you’ve been doing ever since you materialized in my kitchen,’ she snapped, turning back to the dishes.

There was silence for a moment, and she wondered if she’d finally managed to puncture that calm certainty.

‘You have a point,’ he conceded finally. ‘But in my case I think you’re too smart and too gifted to be making stupid mistakes and endangering yourself and those around you. Your boyfriend seems to think you’re useless. What in the world made you think you should marry him?’

‘I told you, I want a normal life, one without magic’

‘I think I can safely assure you that a life with your future husband will be completely devoid of any sort of magic.’ His voice was dry.

She dumped the silver and yellow flatware into the drainer and turned to look at him. Again, that odd little pinging feeling inside – as if her hormones had shortcircuited.

Her hormones had nothing to do with the stranger who’d shown up in her kitchen, she reminded herself sternly. In fact, her hormones were barely operating at a normal level, despite the strange, erotic dreams that had been tormenting her the last few nights. All those had managed to do was ensure she had a lousy night’s sleep, and right now she’d had about as much of the mysterious Elric as she could handle.

‘You want to leave,’ she said, her voice soothing. ‘You want to forget you ever found us.’

His hoot of laughter might have been insulting if she’d had even the faintest hope it would work. ‘I told you, that only works on the weak-minded, and those whose minds are clouded by lust. Haven’t you ever wondered why it didn’t work when you tried it with your sisters? And don’t tell me you haven’t tried – I won’t believe you.’

‘I’ve tried. You’re right, it only works with men. And clearly not all men,’ she added. ‘Lucky for you your mind isn’t clouded by lust for me.’

‘Lucky for me,’ he said, his still dark eyes watching her. ‘Why did you choose Charles? The weak-minded part, I imagine. You wouldn’t have any trouble finding men whose minds are clouded by lust, but you must have wanted someone who was easily controllable. And you seem like such a sweet girl.’

‘Charles is none of your business,’ she said. ‘Who I choose to marry and what I do with my life is none of your business.’

‘You’re a fool. You deserve better, and instead you choose a backwater town and an idiot boyfriend and sooner or later you’re going to end up blowing up this house and your sisters with it until someone puts a stop to it.’

She turned her back on him, shaking. More anger, and she hated it. Though the odd thing was, she was getting angry in return, when she usually just hid in her room. ‘Leave me alone.’ She picked up the dishpan to dump the soapy water out. ‘Get the hell out of here and leave me alone.’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said.

Lizzie gave up and began to the tip the dishpan, and then something tickled her nose, and she shivered hard twice.

‘Then I am,’ she said and whirled around, flinging the soapy water directly at him.

And then she ran.

The Greasy Fork was crowded by the time Mare got her lunch break at noon, but Crash had snagged them a booth, as always. She threaded her way through the crowd, keeping her heart-shaped sunglasses on to hide her eyes so they wouldn’t give anything away, like maybe that she was glad to see him and might still be hopelessly in love with him except that she wasn’t that much of a loser, hell, she was Queen of the Universe, he could kiss her foot. Or something else.

He saw her and stood up, looking tall and broad and solid as ever, and really, really good, and she remembered how it had felt to have his arms around her. Doesn’t matter. She was going to be cool, she didn’t care-

‘Thanks for meeting me,’ he said, and his voice sounded so deep and good, just hearing him felt so good, she closed her eyes to savor it.

‘I had to.’ Mare slid into the booth. ‘I couldn’t talk to you at the store. We have a vice president there.’

‘Yeah, I saw him.’ Crash sat down across from her and that felt right, being back in a booth at the Fork with him, and Mare thought, No, this is how you got hurt before, he won’t stay…

‘So it’s been a while,’ she said.

‘Right.’ Crash picked up his empty coffee cup and tilted it, and Mare thought, Coffee, that’s new, he didn’t drink coffee five years ago.

‘Well, welcome back.’ She picked up the menu and flipped it open, holding it in front of her so she couldn’t see him, especially because she thought there might be tears in her eyes, tears of rage, damn it, but he wouldn’t get that; if they slipped down her cheeks from under her sunglasses he’d think she was crying for him.

‘You don’t need to look, you have that menu memorized,’ he said.

Mare sniffed and thought, Yeah, remind me again of how my life never changes. ‘There might be something new on here.’

He hooked a finger over the edge of the menu and pulled it down to look at her, exasperated, ‘There’s never anything new in this one-horse town.’

Mare snapped the menu down. ‘Something new happened once. The horse left. Why did you leave me without a word, you bastard?’

He scowled at her. ‘Hey, I called three times the next day and got the usual runaround from Dee. I came to see you but I couldn’t come in, like always, and you wouldn’t talk to me.’

Mare blinked. ‘Talk to you? I had three pins in my arm. I was doped to the gills on Percocet, for crying out loud. Of course I wanted to talk to you when I was lucid again. I was in love with you.’

‘Well, you didn’t call me,’ Crash said, looking around the diner as Mare’s voice rose. He leaned forward as he lowered his voice. ‘I figured since I’d almost killed you, and you never called me back, you were done with me.’

‘And you didn’t stick around to ask?’ Mare said, madder than ever. ‘You just left the next day?’

Crash sighed. ‘Mare, I didn’t see much future for us. At the best of times, your sister hated me, and you never let me get too close. After the accident…’ He looked down into his coffee cup. ‘I didn’t think dumping you on my bike in the middle of the road and breaking your arm was going to make things any better. So yeah, when you wouldn’t see me, I left.’

‘Oh, well, so fine,’ Mare said. ‘You want to end the relationship, you say-’

‘No.’ He met her eyes. ‘I didn’t want to end anything, I just wanted… out. Out of Salem’s Fork, I’d wanted out of here for a long time. But I couldn’t leave you. And then I called and you wouldn’t talk to me, and things were lousy with my dad, and he kept telling me I almost killed you and didn’t deserve you-’

‘Well, your dad’s a jerk, we all knew that,’ Mare said. ‘But-’

‘-and Dee felt the same way and Dee’s not a jerk-’

‘Dee’s overprotective,’ Mare said, starting to see the past more clearly. ‘But you still should have talked to me, damn it. You didn’t even talk to me.’

‘I tried,’ he said, and tilted his empty coffee cup again, and Mare sat back, knowing he had tried, and that he was right about her keeping him away before that, too, keeping secrets like I’m a witch, because that kind of thing was hard to explain and could get Dee and Lizzie burned at the stake or whatever they did to witches in the twenty-first century, probably studied in Area 51 or something, and then Pauline stopped to fill his cup for him, peering at him over her glasses.

‘So you’re back, are you?’ she said. ‘Where you been?’

Mare looked up. ‘Pauline, we’re having a conversation here.’

‘Yeah, everybody heard you.’ Pauline raised her penciled-in eyebrows. ‘Just like old times, you whipping him into shape again. You can take your sunglasses off. The sun went down in here after breakfast.’ She nodded at Crash again. ‘So where you been?’

‘Italy,’ Crash said.

Italy. Mare looked away, at the jukebox selector on the tabletop, biting her lip. Italy. She began to flip through the cards. She’d stayed in Salem’s Fork and kept her secrets and cried for months, and he’d gone to Italy. Where there was probably dust and sunshine.

‘No shit.’ Pauline balanced her arm on her hip, holding the coffeepot dangerously near Crash’s ear as she absorbed that.

Crash slid two quarters across the table to Mare - just like old times - and she swallowed hard. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t taken her to Italy, she didn’t speak Italian anyway. Of course, neither did he back then. He probably did now. Italy. She blinked back tears. Hell, she’d have gone to Outer Mongolia if he’d asked.

No she wouldn’t have. Dee and Lizzie would have gotten burned at the stake without her. She was the only one who knew how to use the shotgun. Lizzie can make muffins, Mare thought, but I can lock and load.

‘Good food in Italy?’ Pauline was saying.

‘Yeah,’ Crash said, and Mare could tell from his voice that he was watching her, so she put the quarters in and punched some buttons at random.

‘Italy’ Pauline said, as Kim Richey began to sing. ‘Damn.’

So I didn’t punch the buttons at random, Mare thought as Kim sang about buying a new red dress to keep her spirits up because her boyfriend was gone. Damn subconscious.

‘So in Italy-’ Pauline began.

‘You should go tell someone about that, Pauline,’ Mare said from behind her sunglasses. ‘That’s hot news. Don’t want it to cool off.’

Pauline nodded. ‘Back in a minute,’ she said and headed for the kitchen.

Crash didn’t look exasperated anymore, just tired. ‘Mare, there wasn’t any reason to stay if you didn’t want me around, if you wouldn’t talk to me. And I knew why you wouldn’t. I swear, I didn’t see that trash barrel roll into the street. I was watching the road, I don’t know where the hell it came from. I have replayed it over and over in my head, and I swear-’

Mare blinked at him. ‘That’s okay, that could have happened to anybody, I’m not mad about that.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s not it at all.’

‘I wouldn’t have taken any chances with you behind me.’ He met her eyes, straight on. ‘You were everything to me.’

Kim sang, ‘You’ll never know how much I love you,’ and Mare sat back. ‘Well, I’m nothing to you now, so it doesn’t matter, does it?’

He leaned forward, and Pauline came back to take their order.

‘Maxine says welcome back, and she saw this movie about Tuscany and wants to know if that’s where you are.’

Mare scowled at her. ‘Since when do you ask questions for Maxine? You’ve had Maxine completely terrorized for years and now you’re her lackey?’

Pauline grimaced. ‘It’s supposed to be this big secret, but Maxine bought the diner two days ago.’

Mare’s annoyance vanished. ‘Oh, bad luck, Pauline.’

‘No shit,’ Pauline said. ‘You’re not going to believe this one: starting tonight, we’re serving martinis.’

‘No.’ Mare leaned closer. ‘How the hell did she get a liquor license that fast?’

Pauline leaned in, too. ‘You got me. I’d say she was giving blow jobs, but I don’t think Ferris Tuttle over at the license bureau has a dick.’

‘Good point,’ Mare said.

‘Do you mind?’ Crash said to both of them.

‘So is that where you are?’ Pauline said to him. ‘Where Maxine said? Tuscany?’

‘Yes,’ Crash said.

Pauline turned around and yelled, ‘That’s where he is, Maxine.’

Over behind the counter, little dark-haired, rumpled Maxine gave him a thumbs-up, and Crash gave her a nod and turned back to Mare, looking as if he were thinking, This is why I left.

‘So,’ Pauline said. ‘What’ll it be?’

Crash said, ‘Two hamburgers, one medium well, one medium rare, pickles on both, cheese on the medium well, fries, two Cokes, one diet, with water chasers. Wait fifteen minutes then bring a chocolate milkshake. Large.’

‘Hungry, are you?’ Mare smiled at Pauline. ‘I’ll have-’

‘I just ordered for you,’ Crash said, looking impatient.

‘That’s what we always got. Can we finish our conversation now?’

‘Well, I’ve changed,’ Mare said. ‘You leave a woman alone for five years, she’s gonna change.’ She smiled at Pauline again. ‘I’d like ketchup on the medium rare burger and a lemon slice in the Diet Coke and in the water, please. And make the shake a strawberry.’

‘I like chocolate,’ Crash said.

‘Then get your own,’ Mare said, and he ordered a chocolate shake.

‘Not much of a change,’ Pauline said to Mare.

‘Thank you,’ Mare said, and Pauline topped up Crash’s coffee cup and left.

Crash picked up the sugar dispenser. ‘She’s right. Adding lemon doesn’t change the basic order. I still know you. And you are something to me, damn it. You’re-’

‘You do not know me,’ Mare said, staring at Crash’s coffee cup.

‘You ran five miles this morning and waved to Mother at the tattoo parlor,’ Crash said, getting ready to pour sugar into his coffee but keeping his eyes on her. ‘Then you came here and had orange juice and a doughnut for breakfast. Why are you making this so hard? Why do there have to be so many secrets and so many rules and why does everything have to be so damn hard?’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ Mare stared at the coffee cup until it sparked blue, and then she slid it over two inches as Crash glared at her and poured sugar onto the table where the cup had been.

‘And I know you. I’ll bet you five bucks that you’re wearing blue lace under that god-awful coverall. You always wore blue lace under anything butch.’ He grinned at her then, for the first time since he’d come back, and she lost her breath because she’d forgotten how his smile lit up his whole face.

‘I am not wearing blue lace,’ Mare lied, and tried to think of anything besides how good it felt to have him smiling across the table from her again. Like how easy it was to move things like muffins and coffee cups and how hard it was to move little things like sugar grains. She stared at the sugar and began to separate out grains, biting her lip as she concentrated.

‘I can see the lace.’ Crash put the sugar dispenser back. ‘Right there at the top of your zipper.’ He picked up his spoon, looked down for his cup and saw the pile of sugar instead, and said, ‘What the hell?’ as Mare looked down to see her zipper had slipped enough for a flash of blue lace to show at the top.

It looked pretty good so she left it.

‘You peeked so that’s cheating,’ she said. ‘No bet. There are many new things about me.’

Crash shook his head, cleaning up sugar as he spoke. ‘Nobody knows you like I do, Mare. I know you, the real you, the part that doesn’t change. There’s nobody else in the world like you. And I know because I’ve looked.’

‘Knew me, maybe,’ Mare said. ‘But not anymore. There’s a lot new about me, like…’ Her voice trailed off as she realized there wasn’t anything new if you didn’t count being able to move sugar granules. ‘I have a new tattoo,’ she lied, and watched with satisfaction as his eyebrows went up.

‘Where?’ he said, grinning, and the light in his eyes made her want to grin back at him. ‘Give me a map and a flashlight. I’ll find it.’

Kim sang on in the background and Mare thought, Do not get sucked into him again, he left you, and said, ‘You’ll never know. So why did you come back?’

‘For you,’ he said, and she went very still. ‘I miss you, Mare. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything, but there’s nothing and nobody like you.’

Mare took her hands off the table and put them in her lap. ‘Oh.’ Concentrate on the sugar. She tried to make the sugar swirl, thinking of each separate grain. It gave her a hell of a headache but that beat heartache any day. I love you so much. I never stopped loving you. I never will stop loving you.

‘I didn’t have anything when I was here.’ He pushed his coffee cup away to lean across the table to her. ‘I was just Crash the Loser who almost killed you on my bike on your prom night. But things are different now. I’ve got my own business in Italy. I was roaming around over there and I met this guy, he’s as nuts about bikes as I am, and Mare, the Italians, they really know motorcycles, they’re an art form over there, and this guy, Leo, he loves the old ones and he’s been restoring them and he showed me how.’ Mare nodded and Crash went on. ‘I’ve been working on this bike for you. It’s back in Italy, all done, ready to go. Here.’ He got out his wallet and took out a photograph and handed it to her.

The bike was a thing of beauty, a moped on steroids, sleek and black with a baby blue tank and seat and piping.

‘It’s a Kreidler Florett,’ Crash said. ‘Built in 1964, 49cc, but it moves like you wouldn’t believe. Lightweight but fast, just like you. Took me a long time to find all the parts but it’s cherry now…’ His voice trailed off.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, trying to keep her voice flat.

‘The Florett is considered the best 50 cc bike ever made,’ he said, pulling back, clearing his throat. ‘It’s a real collector’s bike.’

‘I like the blue,’ Mare said.

‘It’s your color,’ he said.

‘And the logo thingy, that’s cool.’

‘That’s the Florett logo.’

Mare nodded. ‘The seat looks like leather.’

‘It is.’

‘Baby-blue leather.’

‘Yep.’

Mare nodded again. The bike was perfect. She handed the picture back to him, glad she had her sunglasses on. Her eyes were probably glowing.

Crash put the picture back in his wallet. ‘The thing is, I have a business there. I just bought a house. And it’s beautiful there, you’d love it. I can just see you riding that bike through the hills, and the Italians, they’d love you. I can take care of you now, Mare.’ He swallowed and then took a deep breath. ‘I think we should try it again. I’ll do better this time. Come back with me.’ He looked into her eyes, the blue depths of his aching with honesty. ‘We belong together. Come to Italy with me, Mare.’

Yes, she thought, but she sat back and tried to be cool. ‘Just like that. Five years go by, you don’t call, you don’t write, and just like that it’s “Come to Italy with me.”‘ God, yes.

I know’ He ducked his head a little. ‘I was going to try to take it slow, but we never did that.’ He looked at her, solid as ever. ‘We were always going ninety miles an hour, Mare.’

‘Yeah, that’s how we hit the trash can,’ Mare said, trying not to think, Italy. With Crash. She stared at the sugar dispenser, watching the granules inside start to stir. Italy. Where the sky was as blue as his eyes and he’d built a perfect bike just for her.

‘I know you need time to think about it,’ he said. ‘I have time. I don’t have to leave until Monday-’

‘Monday?’ The sugar dispenser rocked as Mare sat up, and she slapped her hand over it so Crash wouldn’t notice. ‘You think I can decide to just run off to another country with you in a weekend?’ She leaned forward, trying to make him understand. ‘I have a job here, I just got offered a great promotion, I’m on my way to the top, Crash. And by the way, have you met my sisters?’

‘You’re twenty-three,’ he said. ‘You can leave your sisters. I want to show you Italy. I can take care of you, Mare.’

‘You can’t.’ She took her hand off the sugar dispenser where the sugar granules were heaving on their own now, peppered with little blue sparks, probably because her heart was beating like crazy because she was leaning so close to him, kissing distance, and the excitement had to go somewhere. I can move that sugar with my mind. How are you going to deal with that?

‘I can,’ he said, leaning closer to her, too. ‘I love you, Mare.’

She pulled back at that, and he leaned to follow her, into the space where she’d been, and then his nose twitched and he shivered hard, three times.

‘Crash?’ she said, alarmed.

‘Marry me,’ he said.

Mare was the runner in the family, but Lizzie knew how to make tracks when she needed to, and the last thing she wanted was for a gorgeous, pissed-off, soaking wet wizard to catch up with her. She couldn’t believe she’d lost her temper enough to actually throw the water at him, and for half a moment she’d been paralyzed, half expecting him to dissolve into the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West. He’d just blinked at her as the soapy water landed, and she’d disappeared, racing out the front door before he could try any of his fancy tricks.

The sky was cloudy with the approaching storm, and the wind was growing stronger as she made her way up the cliffs outside of town.

She saw the huge oak first with nothing beneath it – no wet wizards lying in wait for her – and then she went into the stone circle, slightly out of breath, and started to climb up onto the great lump of boulder affectionately known as the Great Big Rock. Some ancient glacier had dragged it down, but now it was smooth and rounded by thousands of years of weather, and she reached the top of it easily enough, hunkering down, trying to catch her breath.

Something was definitely wrong, and Dee must have been right to call for the vote this morning. She’d been a fool to abstain.

She shoved her tangled hair out of her face, lifting her head to look down at the peaceful little town beneath her. No sign of any mysteriously colorful wizard searching for her -maybe his powers were like electricity and he’d shorted out. Maybe he’d given up…

‘I’m sorry.’

She almost fell off the boulder, but he reached out his hand to catch her. Touching him was even worse, but she managed to regain her balance on the rock without it, turning to look at him, fighting the impulse to run once more.

‘You’re not wet,’ she said.

He shook his head. He didn’t look the least bit ruffled -however he’d managed to follow her, it clearly hadn’t been at the same dead run. ‘I could see what you were going to do. It was easy enough to put up a barrier. I’m afraid your floor’s a mess.’

She sighed. ‘My fault,’ she said. ‘It needed washing anyway. Why did you follow me?’

‘We haven’t finished. I’m sorry I insulted your choice of life partners. Clearly there’s no accounting for tastes.’

‘Clearly,’ she said. She’d underestimated him. Her parents could never have appeared as he had, crossing time and space with seemingly no effort. They’d been better at flashy tricks to delight their television audience, not real power. She was dealing with something more complicated than she’d even known existed, and she had to be careful not to lose her temper again. Which shouldn’t be hard – she never lost her temper. Except for today. With this man.

‘I really don’t want you here,’ she said in what she hoped was a reasonable voice. ‘How can I make you just go away and leave us alone? Go back to where you came from, wherever that is.’

‘Toledo.’

‘Toledo?’ she echoed. ‘As in Ohio?’ Somehow he didn’t strike her as the Midwestern type.

‘As in Spain.’

She digested the information, ignoring the little pang of envy. She’d always wanted to go to Spain. ‘Listen, we have a comfortable life here, and we’re not bothering anyone. Can’t you just forget you ever found us?’

He looked at her for a long moment. She would have thought being outside would have muted him, made him less formidable when she wasn’t trapped in a room with him. She was wrong. Even at the top of a mountain he was a disturbingly powerful presence. One she needed to get rid of, fast.

He didn’t look like he was going to be easily swayed. ‘You want me to disappear from your life, forget you ever existed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fine. Then you do what I tell you and we’ll have a bargain.’

She didn’t like making bargains with the devil, and Elric whoever-he-was was downright satanic. But she wasn’t sure she had much choice. And what are you going to tell me to do?’ she asked, wary.

‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to show you how to turn straw into gold.’

She stared at him. ‘I thought we weren’t supposed to cross elemental boundaries. I thought you were going to stop me.’

Elric shrugged, a sight beautiful to behold. ‘I have a feeling you’re going to anyway, so I might as well accept the fact and make certain you’re prepared for the ramifications.’

And what might those be?’

‘It won’t stay gold. But if you’re lucky it’ll stay that way long enough for you to cash it in and get out of here. Assuming that’s what you want to do. Somehow I can’t see the children of Phil and Fiona Fortune living in suburbia. They were a little more upscale.’

‘I’m not my parents,’ she said stiffly. ‘I have no intention of ripping people off, and I’m not interested in fame. I need to make money fairly’

‘And you think using magic spells is a fair way to make money? That’s one thing that never tends to work – if it did, the twenty richest people in the world would be ones with our kind of gifts. Personal gain is frowned upon, and it never works out well. Look what happened to your parents.’

In fact, she didn’t know what happened to her parents, only that they’d died. Dee didn’t like her asking questions, and something had kept her from looking into it. She barely remembered those years in the limelight – she’d hated the attention from the media, the indifference of her parents. Their quest for fame and fortune had killed them – she knew that much. And she had no interest in following in their footsteps.

Her motives, however, were pure. She needed the money for her sisters, but she wasn’t about to waste time with explanations. She wasn’t about to tell him anything more than he needed to know. He knew too much already. ‘Is there anything I can use to turn into gold that will stay that way?’

‘Some base metals. If you go about it the right way, and your intentions are pure. I’m just not sure I can teach you that much in the next three days.’

‘Three days?’ she said faintly. ‘You’re planning to stay in the area that long?’ She was horrified, though she wasn’t sure if it was because he was staying too long or leaving too soon.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m planning to stay in your house that long.’

‘Not if my sisters have anything to say about it. Dee doesn’t allow sleepovers.’

‘If Charles is any example, I can see why not. However, she isn’t going to know. I have no intention of letting her see me.’

‘Dee sees far too much,’ Lizzie said, glum.

‘This isn’t a case of a teenage girl trying to break curfew,’ Elric said. ‘Trust me.’

That’s not going to happen anytime soon, she thought. ‘There isn’t an extra bedroom. There’s no place for you to sleep.’

‘Your bedroom will do.’

‘I only have one bed.’

‘We’ll take turns.’

She stared at him, frustration bubbling up. She would have told him what he could take turns doing, but it wouldn’t have any effect and would only upset her stomach.

‘I don’t like you,’ she said in a sulky voice.

Again that demoralizing smile. ‘Of course you do. That’s part of the problem.’ Before she could open her mouth to protest he went on, ‘Why don’t we go back to the house and you can show me what you’ve been working on, show me what you’ve learned so far? We can take it from there.’

Back to the house that suddenly seemed way too small with him in it? She didn’t really have any choice. ‘Give me a minute,’ she said. ‘I’m not quite ready to hike back.’

‘No need,’ he said, and took her right hand in his before she could stop him.

Colors everywhere, with the wind streaming through her hair, pulling it free of the pins she’d stuck into it to hold it in place. The smell of lilacs, a sea of pinkywhite dogwoods like a carpet beneath her, and she was back in their kitchen, ready to throw up.

He was no longer holding her hand, a small mercy, and she couldn’t read anything in his dark, mesmerizing eyes. ‘You’ll get used to it,’ he said. ‘If you keep having problems, a little Dramamine will do wonders.’

‘What…’ Her voice came out in a choked gasp. ‘What did you just do?’

‘I didn’t think we had time for a leisurely stroll through

Salem’s Fork, and your fiancé might start asking questions if you were seen with me. I just got us here a little quicker.’

‘Don’t do that again,’ she said. ‘Or at least give me a little warning.’

‘Agreed,’ he said. Are you ready to start?’

Her workshop was a closed-in sun porch, and the only entrance was through her bedroom. She wasn’t sure which would feel more intimate: taking him through her bedroom or letting him into her workspace, a place no one else had ever intruded on before. But clearly she had no choice. There was no other way to get rid of him.

‘You leave me no choice,’ she said.

‘You look like Joan of Arc facing the stake,’ he said. ‘Trust me, this will hurt me more than it will hurt you.’

She’d heard that before, and it was usually followed by something awful. The last thing in the world she was going to do was trust the shimmering stranger who had invaded her life.

She would take what she needed from him, learn what she could, and then get him out of her life, along with the gift that felt more like a curse.

‘And once you teach me, you promise you’ll go?’

‘I’ll be gone in three days. By the Feast of Beltane.’

And all she could do was hold on to that hope, as she led him into her bedroom.

Sugar shot straight up out of the pouring spout of the shaker, and Crash ducked back, saying, ‘What the hell?’

Mare slapped her hand over the top of the shaker again. ‘Earthquake. Did you just ask me to marry you?’

‘No kidding?’ Pauline said, and Mare looked up to see her standing there with their Cokes. ‘He proposed?’

‘Thank you,’ Crash said, taking the Cokes from her. ‘We’re good here.’

Pauline stood there for a minute, her face avid, and then when they both looked at her pointedly, she rolled her eyes and left.

‘You proposed?’ Mare said when she was gone.

‘Yeah.’ Crash sounded surprised himself as he passed over her Diet Coke. ‘I did.’

‘You didn’t mean to do that, did you?’ Mare said, relieved and disappointed. ‘It’s okay’

‘No, I did. I mean, yes, I want to marry you.’ He shook his head as if to clear it, and then thought about it for a minute. ‘Yes, I do. Yes, Moira Mariposa O’Brien, I want to marry you-’

Yes, Mare thought.

‘-yes, I want to have kids with you-’

A fat laughing baby toddling down a sunny dusty road…

No, Mare thought. How would he feel if his baby turned out to be a freak like her?

‘-yes, I want to… what’s wrong?’

Temper tantrums with blue sparks and teddy bears flying across the nursery? Purple smoke rolling in and bunnies leaping from the bassinets? A puff of green fog and your firstborn is a frequent flyer?

‘Okay, not kids, not right away,’ he said. ‘In a couple of years. Five years. Ten years. We don’t have to have kids.’ He looked confused, as if he were in over his head.

She knew how he felt.

‘Stop,’ Mare said. ‘It’s just… things are complicated. I just got offered a promotion at work. And call me feminist, but I think working at my own career instead of following yours around might be a good idea for me.’ Except yours is in Italy and I bet I could do something amazing in Italy, too. Better than rent videos anyway. And I know I could do amazing things with you. Just lunch with you makes me breathless.

‘I didn’t mean you’d just follow me around,’ Crash said. ‘I don’t know what I meant. We’d work it out.’ He looked at the sugar shaker again. ‘I’m doing this all wrong. What the hell just happened here?’

‘And we really don’t know each other,’ Mare said. ‘Five years have changed both of us. A weekend isn’t enough for us to know, not after five years. And you left me. How do I know you won’t do that again?’ I can’t even tell you the big secret of my life. How can I marry you?

Crash shook his head. ‘Look, I waited to come back until I had something to give you, until I was ready to say, “Come back with me.” I’m ready, I’ll stick, I swear I will, Mare. I’m not going to pretend that all I did was work. There were other…’ He frowned, as if he knew he was screwing up again. ‘Look, no matter what I was doing, who I was with, I couldn’t forget you. I had to come back to get you.’

Mare sat back, exasperated. ‘Why do I feel like I’m being ordered at the pickup window at the Big Fast Food Restaurant of Love? You got a weekend so you’re driving through. As long as you’re here, you’ll take the Combo Mare. Supersize it, to go.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Crash said. ‘Look, you want me to go away, just tell me to go.’

He met her eyes straight on and she thought, Don’t leave me, and put her head in her hands.

‘Mare?’

Italy and the dusty sun and the bike and Crash and maybe that baby, and she loved him, she’d never stopped loving him, if she just wasn’t one of the gifted Fortune Sisters, the Head Bouncer at Witch Central…

‘Don’t go,’ she said.

‘Does it have to be this hard?’ Crash said. ‘Does it always have to be secrets and misery? Can’t it just be “I love you, too,” and a trip to goddamn Italy?’

‘No.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘This is going to take some thinking.’

‘Thinking.’ He nodded. ‘Sure, why not? Thinking. Some women answer proposals with just “yes” and a kiss, but you need to think about it.’

‘Hey,’ Mare said. ‘It’s been five years.’ Crash sat back. ‘You got a time frame on that thinking?’

‘I don’t get off until ten-thirty,’ Mare said. I’ll probably need longer than that. Tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Tomorrow.’

‘Is that when you’re doing it?’ Pauline said.

Mare glared up at her. ‘Excuse me?’

Pauline put their food on the table. ‘Is that when you’re getting married? Did you say yes? Maxine is back in the kitchen and she’s dying to know.’

‘You know,’ Mare began dangerously, and then realized the diner had grown quiet.

‘And a few others, too,’ Pauline said. ‘You know how word gets around here.’

‘Oh, hell,’ Crash said. ‘I had to come back, I couldn’t just stay in Italy.’

Mare stood up and looked at everyone in the diner looking back at them. ‘So here’s the story, and let’s get it right when we repeat it, people. Christopher Duncan, whom we all know and love as Crash, is back in town after establishing a successful business in Italy. He has come back to discuss the possibility of my joining him there to live happily ever after as his wife in the dappled sunshine where we will have many blissful days and passionate nights. I’m trying to decide if I want that, or if it would be better for me to stay here in Salem’s Fork and rent videos to all of you. I’m thinking about it. It’s not an easy decision. There are ramifications. I am cogitating. In the meantime, your food is getting cold. Eat up, Fork People. Cold food is bad for the digestion.’

She sat down again and looked at Crash, ignoring the sugar granules in the shaker, which were now pulsing gently, happily, like a good strong heartbeat.

‘You’re insane,’ Crash said, ‘but I love you.’

‘Eat your lunch,’ Mare said, and ignored the sugar.

Elric shouldn’t have been surprised by Lizzie’s neat bedroom – pale pink wallpaper, white-painted furniture, gingham curtains, and a bedspread that looked as if. it belonged on the twin bed of a thirteen-year-old, not the slightly more generous double bed. The only anomaly was the pairs of shoes lining the white baseboards – there had to be at least fifty pairs, of every possible shape and style. He glanced at Lizzie’s feet for the first time, and a slow smile spread across his face. The Road Runner high-tops had disappeared – at some point her shoes had become tropical espadrilles with fake fruit dripping off the straps. Lizzie Fortune had a hidden wild streak, at least when it came to shoes.

She was already looking defensive. ‘If you’re thinking I’ve been extravagant you’re wrong. I didn’t buy all these shoes. I haven’t worn half of them.’

‘I don’t care how you got the shoes, Lizzie. I will admit it interests me that you have so many. You don’t strike me as the Imelda Marcos type.’

She shrugged. ‘I like shoes.’

‘Apparently. I’m assuming these appear whenever you try to transmute something?’

She looked guilty. Adorably so, he thought, not happy about it. This was far too slippery a slope for him.

‘I’m not quite sure why they appear or where they come from. It’s usually when I’m…’ She stopped, suddenly embarrassed, and he took pity on her.

He knew perfectly well what would call forth the odd appearance of extraneous footwear – shoes had a strong connection to sexuality, and the shoes must manifest when she was sexually distracted, or excited. Maybe he’d underestimated Charles’s abilities, though he hated that possibility. Or maybe, just maybe, he was having as strong an effect on her as she was having on him.

And that made things even more dangerous.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, just as happy to change the subject. He went over to the white-painted dresser and pulled open a drawer, ignoring her screech of protest. Her underwear was all neatly sorted and folded – white cotton bras and cotton underpants decorated with bears and butterflies and lambs. She had the underwear of a thirteen-year-old, as well, he thought. He glanced back at her. But the shoes of a courtesan.

She pushed past him and slammed the drawer shut, carefully managing not to touch him. ‘There’s nothing in there that’s of any interest to you,’ she said sternly.

He said nothing. He was much more curious about her underwear than he cared to admit, and keeping her distracted and unsettled was part of his master plan, but she was nervous enough around him as it was. He needed to lull her into dropping her guard if he was going to accomplish what he’d set out to do. And he had little experience with failure.

‘So show me your workshop,’ he said, turning his back on the enticing shoes. It wasn’t possible that she’d manifested them out of nothing – alchemists had to start with something, even dust. Except that the rental home of the Misses Fortune seemed antiseptically clean.

The workshop itself was messier than he’d expected -maybe she’d conjured her shoes out of any of the strange artifacts littering the old sun porch. The room was dark – sunlight filtered through the bamboo shades with a sullen glint, and the long workbench was scarred with spilled chemicals and gouged by who knew what. A bale of straw sat on the floor, half decimated, with bits of straw everywhere, as if a giant mouse had gotten into it. Either that, or the Scarecrow had met with the flying monkeys.

‘Eleven fire extinguishers?’ he murmured. ‘You need them all?’

‘I was expecting another from the UPS man. I go through them fairly quickly,’ she said, a defensive note in her voice.

‘It used to be just small fires, but now they come with explosions, so I figure I’d better be prepared.’

She didn’t realize that her penchant for setting fires was also a sign of potential power. When he’d first set eyes on her he’d assumed the power surges coming from this little town in Virginia had been a fluke – no one that innocent-looking could be causing such chaos. He was rapidly learning otherwise.

‘So what do you use for focusing your power? Some kind of array?’

‘What?’

‘Do you make a circle of some element like salt, do you draw a circle, do you…?’

‘I don’t do circles.’

He stared at her. ‘What do you use, then?’

‘I don’t use anything. I just concentrate, and things change. Not the way I want them to, but I’ve gotten some great shoes out of it.’

Ah, she was getting feistier. He’d terrified her when he first showed up, and he should have pushed his advantage. Now she was getting sassy, and she was going to be a hell of a lot harder to intimidate into doing what he wanted.

‘No talisman? No philosopher’s stone?’

‘Life is not a Harry Potter novel.’

‘You and I both know it’s not as far removed as people might think,’ he said beneath his breath. ‘Okay, that’s lesson number one. You need something to feed your power through. Concentrating as hard as you can on something doesn’t work. It’s like trying too hard for an orgasm – the harder you work, the more elusive it becomes. You have to let go.’

She blushed. ‘I’m afraid you must be more of an expert at difficult orgasms. Are you talking about you or the women you sleep with?’

‘Actually, it’s pretty much a no-brainer for men. And with no false modesty I have to say that I’m very good in bed. Years of experience does wonders.’ He tilted his head. ‘I’m thinking more of young women with little experience who sleep with the wrong men.’

A crackle of energy, and a pair of narrow stiletto heels appeared on the scarred workbench. Hot-pink fuck-me shoes. Very interesting, he thought.

She grabbed the shoes and threw them under the workbench. ‘I really don’t want to be discussing sex with you,’ she said in a strained voice.

I know you don’t, he thought. But why? He took a step toward her, trying to forget about the very sexy shoes. ‘We need to find you a talisman…’ he began, automatically reaching for her hand.

The spark between them made him jump, and she let out a pained little scream. It wasn’t a sexual spark, not the disturbing current that he’d felt before when he’d put his hand on her shoulder and when he’d taken her hand to bring her back home – it was static electricity magnified a hundred times, and it hurt.

‘What was that?’ she demanded in a shaky voice.

He’d touched her ring. It was no wonder he hadn’t noticed – anything that tiny was easily overlooked. ‘It’s that pitiful engagement ring,’ he said. ‘Your body’s rejecting it.’

‘Give me a break,’ she said. And it’s not pitiful. Charles and I agreed it made more sense to put money into something that benefited both of us in the long run. This is merely a symbol.’

‘If that’s a symbol of your great love, then you’re in deep shit,’ Elric said. He stared at the nasty little thing in fascination. He wasn’t going to touch it again, not as long as it was on her finger.

‘I don’t want to discuss this with you,’ she said stiffly.

‘Fine. We won’t discuss sex and we won’t discuss your fiance, though if you’re that uptight about things it’s no wonder you’ve been screwing up in the workshop. People like us need to be comfortable in our bodies, not nervous and twitchy. It throws everything off.’

He’d expected her to argue again, but she looked momentarily distracted. ‘That would explain Dee’s problem,’ she said, half to herself.

‘What is Dee’s problem?’

‘None of your business.’

Elric bit back his irritation. He was going to have to immobilize Deirdre as well, plus the youngest, and he was going to have to do it without anyone realizing it. He didn’t have enough information; he only knew their gifts were backfiring. Now he was beginning to wonder if he’d made a grave mistake in coming here.

He dismissed it a moment later. The disturbances emanating from this area had been felt worldwide, and he’d known, with that instinctive sureness that had been with him most of his life, that this was where he was supposed to be.

‘Take off the ring,’ he said.

‘The hell I will.’

He blinked. She was looking very defiant, even though her voice had wobbled slightly, and he wondered if another pair of shoes were about to appear. Maybe they’d be combat boots.

He tried another tack. ‘The ring is interfering with the flow of energy through your body,’ he said patiently. ‘You said the fires and explosions were getting worse. Starting when?’

She glanced down at the tiny chip on her hand. ‘Around the time we got engaged,’ she said reluctantly.

‘I rest my case. The ring disrupts things when you try to channel your gift. Your body is fighting it – I’ll leave it up to you to draw whatever conclusions you want.’

‘Someone must have… hexed it or something,’ she said.

‘Take it off and I’ll tell you.’

She pulled at it, and it came off easily enough – a little too easily for a ring that wasn’t loose. She held it out to him, but he shook his head. ‘Put it on the bench.’

‘Chicken,’ she said, but she sounded relieved as she set it down.

He picked it up, half expecting another crack of painful electricity, but it was nothing more than a plain, cheap ring, devoid of power. ‘It’s just a ring,’ he said. ‘Harmless. Except if the wrong person wears it.’

She started to reach for it, but a sizzle of blue electricity danced between them, and she jerked her hand back. ‘You’re doing that,’ she said in a sulky voice.

‘Believe what you want. But you’re not wearing it until I leave. We aren’t going to get anywhere if we practically get electrocuted every time I touch you.’

‘I don’t see why you need to touch me,’ she protested.

He closed his eyes in momentary exasperation. ‘Didn’t you have any training at all? I can help you channel your energy – you don’t have to start getting paranoid.’

‘That’s right, your mind isn’t clouded by lust. If it was I’d be able to make you do what I want.’

He wasn’t about to argue with it. His mind wasn’t clouded with lust – he’d been able to compartmentalize it very neatly. Yes, there was a strong, deep attraction that made no sense, and it was entirely inconvenient and, as far as he could tell, completely one-sided. So he’d banished it with the ruthless efficiency he’d perfected, never to think about it again until he was far enough away from her that it wouldn’t be a danger.

He put the ring back down on the workbench. ‘You can have it when I leave. In the meantime, I’ll show you what I mean.’

He had no idea why he did it, when he’d just been thinking how dangerous she was. Maybe he hadn’t banished that errant strain of lust as efficiently as he thought. He reached out to put his hand on her shoulder, as he had before, but for some reason it slid up the side of her neck, cupping her face, and there was no snap of static power between them. Instead it was a pulse, strong and powerful, flowing between them, awash with color and the heartbeat of the universe. And without thinking he moved his head down to kiss her.

Danny James opened the door to the Greasy Fork and ushered Dee in. Dee couldn’t think of anyplace more platonic to have her one drink with Danny than the Greasy Fork, the epitome of the smalltown diner with its scarred Formica and Coke-and-hamburger menu. Plus no alcohol. She’d be safe there.

She led him through the bustling early-dinner crowd over to her favorite booth by the front window where she could see the town square, the river, and the cliffs beyond that were her favorite haunt. The sun was low, throwing a golden wash over the red brick buildings and limning the trees. Dee sighed. What the hell had she been thinking? She needed to be outside in that perfect light. Not here. Not with Danny James, for God’s sake.

She’d laid in a few brushstrokes of burnt sienna along the lines of his throat, where the warm sun had left shadows.

Dee shook her head, feeling oddly bereft. Damn fantasy. ‘Nice place,’ Danny said behind her with a suspiciously dry voice.

‘Did I tell you the drink choices here are Coke, Coke, and coffee?’ she asked as she tossed her briefcase onto the seat and slid in.

Danny looked around. ‘Yeah. I can see that.’

‘No, no,’ the waitress said as she bustled over. ‘It’s your lucky day. We got a liquor license. I know how much you like a good martini, Dee. How ‘bout it?’

‘Wonderful,’ Dee said faintly. ‘Thanks, Maxine.’

Without taking her eyes off Danny, Maxine dug into her pocket, where she usually kept her order pad. ‘And you, sir?’

‘I’ll just have a longneck,’ Danny said with another one of those killer smiles as he settled across from her.

Every person within a four-booth radius turned their way. Maxine headed off to get their drinks, making it a point to wait until she was out of Danny’s line of sight before vigorously fanning herself for Dee’s benefit. Yeah, Dee thought. He’s all that and more. She just wished she knew what that more was.

He looked like a yuppie exec on casual day, his oxford shirt open and rolled up to his elbows, his hair just that much disordered, his shoes tasseled. He smelled like the male animal. Dee recognized the scent from her times as a fox. Musk and power and salt. The clean hint of soap, and something that was particularly Danny James. Something deadly she couldn’t quite identify. Probably the uncut scent of pheromones. And she was sitting across from him in hundred-weight wool and a pool of sweat. Very attractive.

She was feeling flushed again. Just who’d thought this would be a good idea? Across from her, Danny pulled a tape recorder from his jacket pocket and set it on the booth.

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Dee said, stone-faced.

He gave a wry shrug and put it away. ‘You can only say no.’

‘I could beat you into insensibility with your own equipment.’

She could change into a wolverine and chew his face off. But it was too nice a face.

‘Oh, you don’t want to do that,’ he said without looking up. ‘I have such a nice face.’

Dee went very still. Just which bit of vitriol had he been responding to? And if he was letting her know that he’d heard her thoughts, why wasn’t he flashing her an ‘I know what you are’ smile?

She surreptitiously took another sniff. Again, she caught the man scent, the soap. And… ah, hell. She should have known. That mystery scent hadn’t just been pheromones. It held the tang of ozone before a storm. The crackle of electricity. Whatever else this guy was or wasn’t, he was one of them. He smelled like psychic power.

Dee fought to keep from sweating like a suspect. What did it mean? Why was he really here? And damn it, how could just smelling the power on him make her so darned itchy? No, that was the wool against her ass, which she suddenly couldn’t seem to hold still, as if rubbing it against Naugahyde would relieve her distress.

Danny James replaced the tape recorder with a notebook and a Third Virginia Bank pen. ‘You don’t like talking about your parents?’

She looked around for that Martini, suddenly grateful the Greasy Fork had sold out. ‘What are you researching?’

Smooth, Dee. Very smooth.

He didn’t seem in the least disconcerted. ‘A book for Mark Delaney.’

She scowled. ‘Yes, I got that part. What could my parents have to do with alternative history?’ Except the alternative history she used to imagine for herself. Clair and Cliff Huxtable as her parents and a house in the suburbs where the silverware stayed silverware and stress caused nothing more than headaches.

‘Mark wants to do a non-fiction work on psychics,’ he said. ‘Since your parents were the most famous ones, he thought we should start there. I’m sure you know that they were sometimes referred to as-’

‘The Jim and Tammy Faye of psychics. Yes, Mr James, I know all the pejoratives.’ Like ‘charlatan.’ She wondered when that one would come up. And keep it down, please. I’m happier if no one in Salem’s Fork thinks I know anybody famous.’

‘I was sure you’d rather I got my information from the source, which would be you.’

‘Not really,’ Dee said, seeing Maxine set a full Martini glass on a tray and salivating. ‘There’s plenty of video on them. I doubt I could add anything.’

‘I’ve seen the video,’ he said. ‘No offense, but it all struck me as a cross between Ed Sullivan and Elmer Gantry.’

‘With just a soupçon of the Partridge Family. They did know how to put on a show.’

I’m sure that accounts for some of it,’ he said. ‘Their rise to fame was pretty meteoric. From neighborhood psychics to international stars in a matter of three years.’

Dee tried to see where Maxine was with that Martini. ‘The neighborhood they worked was West Hollywood,’ she said. ‘They numbered quite a few producers and agents among their clients.’

It had been Xan who’d spotted the opportunity. The producers had never known it wasn’t their idea.

Danny James consulted something in his notebook. ‘Well, it certainly was a winning formula. Especially when they added you girls to the show. You were naturals for the bright lights, all ruffled and sweet and singing those cute songs. You did a hell of an “I’m a Little Teapot.”‘

Dee scowled. ‘If you’re trying to butter me up, Mr James, that probably isn’t the way you want to do it.’

His eyebrows headed north. ‘You didn’t find it as charming as the rest of us.’

Being blinded by those hot, hard lights? Hundreds of hands on her; people bending so close she could smell fetid breath, smiling and smiling and lying? And her parents always standing apart on the other side of the stage like benevolent deities while she waited for just one word of praise? What more could a girl want?

‘I guess I must lack that showbiz gene.’

‘Yeah, I can see that,’ he said. ‘You couldn’t be more buttoned down if you were a nun.’

Dee went rigid. ‘Well, thank God you’ve come along and shown me the error of my ways, Mr James. Now you have the length of one Martini to talk.’

Right on cue, Maxine stopped at their table, drinks in hand. ‘Thatta girl,’ she said with a sharp nod as she set the longneck down. ‘Even if he does have a point, a gentleman has no business being rude when he’s courting.’

Mortified, Dee shut her eyes and held out her hand. ‘Can I order my second Martini now?’

Maxine laughed and settled Dee’s first Martini right into it. ‘You bet.’ Balancing her tray against her hip, she turned to Danny James. ‘So, it was like love at first sight, huh? You just met, right?’

That got Dee’s eyes open fast. What the hell? Maxine was spacey, but even for her that was a bizarre question. On the other hand, it might be a better line of inquiry than the real one. Especially since the other waitresses were standing back by the kitchen door waiting for Maxine’s report on the new man in town.

‘No,’ Danny said, picking up his longneck. ‘We met in college. I haven’t seen Dee since junior year, have I?’

Dee almost couldn’t get her mouth closed enough to form consonants. ‘Um, yeah.’

Was he really covering for her? Hell, he was here to expose them. Wasn’t he?

‘Really?’ Maxine said, sounding confused. ‘College?’

‘Loyola,’ he said.

‘Butler,’ Dee said at the same time, and damn near winced.

‘For senior year,’ he retorted easily. ‘She left before I could ask her to the fraternity formal, and I never got over it. So I’m using this research project as an excuse to see her again.’

Dee felt as confused as Maxine. Did Danny really mean to protect her? Maybe she could at least listen to what he had to say.

‘Well, that’s just great,’ Maxine said, still sounding bewildered. ‘So you’re like in love and everything?’

Dee damn near spilled her Martini. ‘We’re in what?’

Danny gave her a conspiratorial look. ‘Give us time, Maxine.’

‘Give me another Martini, Maxine,’ Dee said, in a tone that said, Get out of here, Maxine, and Maxine, evidently realizing her tip was in jeopardy, made tracks back to where the rest of the waitresses waited.

Dee faced Danny James. ‘Why did you do that? You could have outed me like Rock Hudson.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘You’re not escaped felons. I figure you have your own reasons for protecting yourselves. And while I’d dearly love to know why, that’s not why I’m here. Okay?’

She found she could breathe again. At least for now. ‘Thank you.’

He picked up his longneck. ‘No thanks necessary. Maxine was right, though. I wasn’t being a gentleman. I’m sorry. It just seems such a long way from that “Delightful Dee-Dee” on the show who always sang in her pretty pink dresses.’

So that quickly he was back on the hunt. Dee went after her Martini. ‘I’ll have you know crinoline itches like a bitch.’ So did wool, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘What else itched?’

Dee stared. He’d just done it again. ‘What?’

He leaned closer to her and kept his voice down. ‘You and your sisters disappeared twenty-four hours after your parents’ death, and haven’t been heard from since. What have you been hiding from?’

‘Nosy researchers.’

‘I thought you might like to tell your side of the story. Did you really go to Butler University?’

‘If we wanted to tell our story, we probably would have done it anytime during the last twelve years.’ She reached for her purse, trying to force an end to this nonsense. ‘There is no story.’

He didn’t move. ‘It’s not just that you’ve never even gone back to your parents’ commune – who would all like to hear from you, by the way. You’re living in seclusion half a continent away under an assumed name. Why?’

She stopped again and faced him with a semblance of calm, even as her pulse skittered around like a pea in a hot skillet. ‘Who wants to live in a commune of psychics? Everybody knows your business.’

‘And now nobody does.’

‘And oddly enough, they don’t seem to mind.’

‘What about your sisters?’

‘They don’t mind, either.’

‘Even the name change?’

She was getting frustrated. ‘You don’t like O’Brien? It was my grandmother’s name.’

He jotted something down, although Dee couldn’t figure out what it could have been. She hadn’t said anything yet.

‘Your parents,’ he said, his posture still comfortable. They were both gifted?’

He looked so objective. Too bad Dee had already heard his opinion on the matter.

‘You really want to know?’

He looked up, surprised. ‘Of course. If anybody knew, it would be you.’

‘And you’ll believe me.’

He offered a wry grin. ‘You seem a trustworthy sort.’ She wanted to shake her head. This was going to be such a waste of time. ‘Yes. They believed they were gifted.’

‘And you?’

‘Me what?’ Are you gifted?’

‘Why, yes, thank you. I can knit and tap-dance a little, and I’m a whiz with a block of ice and a chain saw.’

‘What about…?’ He let his hands drift through the air, the universal sign language for ‘woo-woo.’

‘Looking for somebody to entertain at parties?’

‘Looking for the truth about your parents.’

‘No you’re not.’ She shoved her drink away and sat back. ‘You’re trying to prove they were frauds. I mean, they must have been, mustn’t they? After all, they were convicted of it. They were convicted because they are fairly credulous and believed the wrong financial advisors.’ And Xan, who had known better. ‘I’m not going to help you vilify them further.’

‘And what makes you think I’m going to do that?’

Dee gave him the benefit of sincerely considering her answer. ‘You don’t believe it’s real, do you?’ she asked.

He never hesitated. He didn’t even smile. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t.’

Dee almost laughed. She should have known. He was a psychophobe with a pile of psychic magazines in his bedroom. ‘Not ghosties nor ghoulies nor even things that go bump in the night?’

‘Swamp gas and overheated imaginations.’

Lord, was she tempted to show him. It would be so easy. All she had to do was reach across the table, grab him by the ears, and kiss him. Really lip-lock in on him so that she sucked on his tongue like a Popsicle and he suddenly looked up to see his mother sitting in front of him. Wouldn’t he be surprised?

‘Would you mind talking about the show?’ he asked. ‘I mean, nobody was closer than you three.’

Dee reached for her Martini again. It would be such a good moment to shift. It didn’t have to be his mother. Just something startling and very mobile. ‘We weren’t involved at all,’ she said. ‘Just trotted out on special occasions. Other than that, we had nannies.’

And Xan. Always there, whispering in her ear, dripping uncertainty like acid. Especially, inevitably, around her twelfth birthday, the day her world changed.

‘Why don’t you just tell me about the book?’ she asked. ‘Why is Mr Delaney so interested in psychics all of a sudden?’

Danny James eased back in his seat. ‘Not all of a sudden, really. It’s a subject he’s been fascinated by for a while. Especially… shall we say, “professional psychics.”‘

‘Ah.’ Dee took a sip of her drink. ‘I recognize that tone of voice. The “all psychics are frauds or delusional” tone. Cops and fundamentalists are particularly fond of it.’

‘Well, were they? Frauds, I mean.’

‘You obviously think so. Who am I to argue?’

He should have looked piqued. He laughed. ‘Oh, I do love a challenge. I don’t suppose you’d like dinner after all, would you?’

Of course she’d like dinner. Who was he kidding? But she couldn’t risk it on so many levels.

Then he reached across the table. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘I don’t bite. I promise.’

He did even worse than that. He touched her. Laid his hand over hers and squeezed. Lightning burst behind Dee’s eyes. A shock of heat shot up her arm and scorched her. That dusty image blossomed again, paint and sunlight and Danny James. Worse, this time it brought with it the sound of laughter. The sense of joy.

Dee gasped, stunned to silence. She looked up to see that Danny had lost color. His pupils were suddenly the size of dimes. Oh, God. He could see it, too. He could hear it.

Dee yanked her hand away, fully intending to turn him down. To climb regally to her feet and walk purposefully out the door.

She took in a breath, all set to shake her head. ‘Actually,’ she said instead, ‘I’d love to.’

Lizzie stared up at Elric, into his dark, fathomless eyes, and she knew he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. She was fascinated by his mouth, by his cool voice, by his eyes and the long elegant hands. She was fascinated by him, and half terrified.

She still wanted him to kiss her. She could feel the power pulsing between them, threading through her body so that she could feel him everywhere, and the sensation was so terrifyingly wonderful that she wanted to feel his mouth as well, everywhere, and see what kind of colors it brought.

But then he dropped his hand, stepping back, away from her, and the connection was broken, and she felt suddenly drained. Thankfully unkissed. Damnably unkissed.

‘You’re very susceptible,’ he said, and if she didn’t know how powerful he was she might have thought there was a shaken note in his cool voice.

‘Susceptible to what?’ She took a step back herself, for safety’s sake. A thousand miles between them would make things even better, but so far he’d been immovable.

‘To me.’

The sting to her pride was enough to override her fears. ‘Yes, I’m absolutely quivering with desire for you,’ she said. ‘We’re long-lost soul mates, and I can’t live without you.’ The problem with sarcasm, she thought, the moment the words were out of her mouth, was that you had to have practice. She was so seldom sarcastic that her haughty little speech sounded far too much like she meant it.

It would have helped if he’d said something, anything. But he just looked at her for a long, measuring moment, before changing the subject. ‘We need to find you a talisman.’

‘What for? To keep me safe from you?’ she shot back.

‘We’re not going to talk about that right now,’ he said. ‘Maybe later. Right now we have work to do.’

Talk about what? she thought with just a trace of desperation, but for once she kept her mouth shut. The longer she was around him the more dangerous he became, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

‘What kind of talisman?’ She went back to the original subject. ‘What do I need it for?’

‘To focus your energy. Do you have any old jewelry, maybe something that belonged to your mother?’

There was no way she could lie to him.

‘We have some jewelry,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But it’s not mine. We’ve been using it to support ourselves – every now and then we sell off a piece and it keeps us going.’

‘Where is it?’ He moved past her, and in the crowded workshop it was a difficult thing to do without touching her, but he managed.

‘I told you, it’s not-’

He left the workshop, moving through her room without even glancing around him. She didn’t blame him – the sweet, neat confines of her small bedroom didn’t hold anything arcane or mysterious.

She rushed after him, about to argue some more, to find him standing at the table by the open window, looking down at the brass-bound trunk Dee had left there. He glanced up at her. ‘I presume this used to belong to your feckless mother. Come here and choose something.’

‘I shouldn’t…’

‘Don’t be tiresome, Lizzie. This is all very simple – either you learn to use your gifts or you keep exploding things and courting dangerous attention from people you’d rather avoid. Open the box.’

Dangerous attention from people she’d rather avoid. Did he mean Xan? If so, he couldn’t have come up with a better argument. She opened the box, looking down at the tangle of brilliant, gaudy jewelry.

‘You know which one is yours, Lizzie,’ he said in a more gentle voice. ‘Just trust yourself.’

She really didn’t like a man who was right all the time, she thought, picking up the one piece that had always fascinated her.

It was the Borgia pendant, a huge rich amethyst, set in silver and looped on a silver chain, the violet catching the light from the setting sun through the window. It felt alive in her hand, and her fears, the ones she thought she’d banished, came rushing back. She put it down on the table, backing away from it. ‘I don’t want it.’

She was too rattled to realize he’d moved, scooping up the pendant, or she would have tried to get away, but he simply put one hand on her shoulder, stilling her, and placed the pendant around her neck. She could feel the weight settle between her breasts, and it vibrated against her heart, warming it, like a fire glowing inside her. And then he kissed her.

It was the last thing she expected – the touch of his mouth against hers – and he pulled back, looking as startled as she felt. She stood frozen.

‘Ah, shit,’ he said, and catching her face in his hands, he kissed her again.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt before, and she reached for him, holding on, afraid she might fall. A swirl of color, greens and blues and lavenders, all dancing around in her head as he kissed her, with slow, deliberate thoroughness. Charles preferred closed-mouth kisses-

But Elric didn’t. He stroked the sides of her face until she opened her mouth for him, and he used his tongue, kissing her with a slow, deliberate care that left her shaking, cold and hot. She had no choice, no thought but to kiss him back, sliding her arms around his neck, pressing her body up against his, the living amethyst between the two of them, between their hearts, and it glowed, burned, sang, as she closed her eyes and let herself sink into the breathless wonder of the kiss.

She didn’t know what would have happened next if the ferret hadn’t scampered across her foot. She jumped away from him, banging her head against his jaw, and looked around her in dismay. Two ferrets, six mice which should have been white but were instead varying shades of purple, and Pywackt, staring at her in haughty disdain, a deep lavender himself, before he started after the mice.

‘You’ve got to stop doing that,’ Elric said. ‘There are already too many rodents in this world.’

Lizzie ignored him, scooping up the mice before Py could get them. A moment later she was holding flowers in her hands, the same roses that had been residing in the now empty vase, and she realized she hadn’t transformed the silver this time. She stuffed the flowers back into the vase, but by this time the ferrets were a pair of leather shoes once more, though Py seemed determined to prove otherwise.

‘That’s a step in the right direction,’ Elric said in a cool voice. At least you didn’t cross elemental boundaries this time.’

‘I did that?’

‘You did. I, however, was the one who turned them back. I think that’s the first thing I need to teach you. How to undo the messes you make.’

She would have argued with him, but she had something more important on her mind. ‘Why did you kiss me?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe you just needed kissing.’

‘Don’t do it again,’ she said.

Except that he really did have the most melting smile. ‘I can’t promise that. But not unless you want me to.’

‘Then I’m safe,’ she said firmly.

‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ he murmured.

It made her stomach jump in anticipation. ‘Are you going to teach me or not?’ she demanded, half shocked at her cranky tone of voice. Elric the Magnificent was enough to try the patience of a saint, and she was feeling less and less saintlike.

‘I’m going to teach you,’ he agreed. ‘Everything I know.’

Lizzie wasn’t even going to consider why that sounded so deliciously frightening. All she knew was that she didn’t want to change things, even if she could.

‘What?’ Xan said, glaring down at the see glass on the table. ‘The hell you’ll teach her everything you know!’

A loud sneeze made her jerk up so fast she almost knocked the glass off the table. ‘How did you get up here this time?’

‘Well, it wasn’t easy,’ Maxine said, looking perturbed. ‘Somebody had put a brick in the portal, some big ol’ shiny invisible thing, and-’

‘What do you want, Maxine?’

‘Boy, you look good.’

Maxine’s eyes were frankly admiring, and Xan was in a place where a little frank admiration was welcome, so she relaxed.

‘Thank you. Now what do you want?’

‘Is that dress silver? Like real silver?’

‘Yes. What do you want?’