Just Believe

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NovelBooks, Inc. www.novelbooksinc.com Copyright ©2003 by Anne Manning

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"Love, I have something I have to tell you."

“Annabelle?” Gaelen's voice, surprising as it was, didn't startle her. She'd expected him, could almost remember him telling her he was coming, to wait for him. Annabelle turned toward him. He waited, his hands slightly raised. Was he offering to hold her?

He must have seen the question in her eyes. He raised his arms higher, open, waiting. She stood up, not knowing if she could even take the two steps to bring herself within his protective embrace. Gaelen must have seen that, too, because he took the steps necessary and enfolded her, holding her against him, seeming to absorb into his own body the shaking of hers. He was so warm, so solid, and his arms felt so good around her, she just gave up trying to be strong. “I'm sorry,” she said, wiping at the wet spot on his shirt where her tears had soaked through. “Don't you dare apologize, darlin'. I'm here, and we'll make everything right.” His arms tightened around her and he breathed deeply. She looked up at him. “You're so sweet to be so concerned about Erin.” He squeezed her tighter, then he pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket. “Here.” He wiped her eyes and held the handkerchief to her nose. “Like a good girl, now.” Obediently she blew her nose. He folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket, then sat on the side of the bed while Annabelle again took her seat in the ugly plastic chair. A rueful chuckle escaped her throat. “I never knew where the saying came from before, but I do now.” “What saying?” “You know the one. Sleeping like a log?” The strangest expression crossed Gaelen's face, unbroken by even a trace of a smile at her little joke. His sky-blue eyes flicked over to the bed, then away. Annabelle could have convinced herself she saw disgust on his face. “Love, I have something I have to tell you.” The tone of his voice forced her to obey him, her heart beating with dread. “Annabelle, do you remember when you were a young girl,” he started, “maybe, twelve or thirteen or so, you heard a ruckus from the back yard, the tool shed? You went out there. Do you remember seeing something?” His pause was full of uncertainty she could actually feel. “Something unusual?” “How do you know about that?” “Just tell me what you remember seeing.” “I can't talk about that now, Gaelen.” “Please, darlin', remember and tell me.” Spurred by the urgency of his voice, she pulled up the memory, trying to see the fantastic vision again. “I saw a boy, maybe five or so years older than me. He was crouched in the corner of the shed.” She felt her blush zoom up her face. “He was, ah, naked.”

This is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the characters, incidents, and dialogs are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and review. For information, address NovelBooks, Inc., P.O. Box 661, Douglas, MA 01516 or email [email protected] NBI Published by NovelBooks, Inc. P.O. Box 661 Douglas, MA 01516 NovelBooks Inc. publishes books online and in trade paperback. For more information, check our website: www.novelbooksinc.com or email [email protected] Produced in the United States of America. Cover illustration by Nathalie Moore Edited by Melanie Duncan ISBN 1-59105-072-3 for electronic version ISBN 1-59105-097-9 for trade paperback To Tink, Kathryne Overton, the best critique partner any writer ever had. CHAPTER ONE

Erin is in the psychiatric ward. That's what her mother had said. Annabelle didn't let herself think about it. Not yet. She didn't have enough information to start going off the deep end.One of us has to stay calm , she thought. Here she was, at the University of North Carolina Medical Center, where she'd been told to go, after driving from Raleigh-Durham airport through a storm-darkened day that matched her mood. The huge building stood cold and spare. People came here for help, yet it seemed to Annabelle a heartless place. She pulled her too-light windbreaker around her to ward off the wind and dashed for the automatic doors.

People littered the area like discarded candy wrappers. The buzz of whispered conversations filled the air. Skirting the oversized potted palms, Annabelle approached the information desk sprawled in the middle of the lobby. The elderly volunteer looked up from a supermarket tabloid.The Weekly Investigator , Annabelle noted with approval. “May I help you?” the volunteer asked. “My sister, Erin Tinker, is a patient. Can you tell me where to find her?” “Certainly. How's that spelled?” The woman bent her blue hair toward the computer screen in front of her, hunting and pecking the last name, T-I-N-K-E-R. Instead of the six strokes it usually took, with all the backspacing and correcting it took more like twenty. Finally, the woman looked up. “I'll need some identification, please. A driver's license will do.” Annabelle breathed a sigh. Here it came, she thought, as she pulled her wallet from her jacket pocket. After a moment's digging, she handed over her driver's license. “Umm, let's see, Miss Tinker.” The volunteer glanced up, her old eyes twinkling. Okay, okay, get it over with. Annabelle pasted a smile she hoped was tolerant on her lips. “Annabelle Tinker? That's just sodarling ! How imaginative. You aren't a fairy in disguise, are you?” The old woman gave the license back. “No,” Annabelle said, wishing for the millionth time Walt Disney had never learned to draw. “Here's your pass, dear. Clip it to your blouse while you're in the hospital. That way the brute squad won't toss you out.” The woman smiled. “Now,” she said, motioning with her hand, “take that elevator right there to the eleventh floor and, when you get off, turn right. Your sister's in Room 1135.” “Thank you.” Annabelle took the pass and turned toward the elevators.Eleventh floor? Were they crazy putting crazy people on the eleventh floor? What if someone tried to jump? She squashed the concern. It was none of her business if they put the psych ward on the roof. She had all she could handle taking care of her mother and sister. The elevator's electronic voice announced the eleventh floor and Annabelle got off, turning right as the receptionist had instructed. “Darling, oh, I'm so glad you're here!” Annabelle looked toward the voice and saw her mother coming, histrionic sails billowing. “Mom, what happened?” She hid a wince as she realized she'd blurted out the wrong question, an open-ended one which would give her mother the opportunity to go on ... and on ... and on. Immediately, she tried to remedy the mistake by focusing her mother on the present. “Why is Erin here in the psych ward?” She laid her arm around her mother's shoulders and led her to a

couch in an out-of-the-way lounge, where they sat down, allowing her mother to draw a big breath. Tamping down her impatience, Annabelle tried to remember it hadn't been that long since Dad died. Mom needed time to get used to being alone and taking care of herself. Now this. “I don't know,” Susan Tinker finally said. “Erin and Lucas left the house on Saturday night to go to a movie. The next thing I knew, it was four in the morning, and the police were banging on the door.” She shivered and Annabelle hugged her closer. “Oh, I wish your Dad were alive! He'd know what to do.” Annabelle bit her tongue. “Mrs. Tinker?” A tiny young woman wearing a long white coat over green hospital scrubs stood beside them. “Erin wants to see you.” “Oh, thank you, Dr. Duncan. Is it all right if we go in?” “Of course, Mom,” Annabelle said, more sharply than she'd wanted. “Just a moment, please.” The doctor, a redheaded sprite of a thing, with wire-rimmed glasses on her upturned pixie nose and the small, delicate features Annabelle had always wished for, sat down beside Annabelle's mother. “I do want to warn you to be prepared for some pretty wild things. Erin has apparently had some sort of shock. Frankly, I'd have to diagnose her as delusional based on my preliminary examination.” Finally!Annabelle sat up, energized. Data. Facts. Evidence. Something concrete to grab on to. “What makes you say she's delusional, Doctor?” At the doctor's questioning look, Annabelle gave a tight smile and added, “I'm Erin's sister, Annabelle.” “Ms. Tinker, nice to meet you.” Dr. Duncan smiled sadly, offering her hand for a quick shake to acknowledge their introduction. “I'll let you hear it in Erin's own words. Let me caution you, though. Don't argue with her. Go along with her if you think you can be convincing. Sometimes these cases become worse when they think they're being patronized. We don't want to upset her further by making her think we don't believe her. It could lead her to paranoid fantasies of persecution, which could result in more aggressive behavior.” “Oh,” Susan moaned. “Come on, Mom,” Annabelle said, setting her hand under her mother's elbow and helping her to her feet. “Thank you, Dr. Duncan.” Dr. Duncan smiled and nodded. “It's that room there.” Annabelle smiled in answer, knowing it didn't come off, and led her mother toward the room. “I can't, Annabelle.” “Yes, you can. Erin needs us.” She pushed open the door, and then pushed her mother through.

“Annabelle.” Erin sat up, arms reaching. Releasing her mother, Annabelle practically ran to her sister's bedside, wrapping Erin in a hug. “Oh, honey, what on earth happened?” “You won't believe me. Nobody believes me.” Annabelle remembered the doctor's warnings. “Try me.” Erin glanced up, then over at her mother. “Mom, can you listen now?” Erin's tone forced Annabelle to study her more closely. She was calm. Her eyes were clear. There was nothing of a cloudy, crazed look in them. Her hands were steady as she reached forward for her mother to come closer. Their mother was the one who needed a sedative, but she did come to the side of the bed to sit in the ugly brown plastic armchair. Annabelle moved its tattered twin beside it, but, instead of sitting, she grasped Erin's outstretched hand in her own. “All right, sweetheart,” their mother said, her voice slow and loud, as though talking to a small, rather backward child, “tell me.” Eyes rolling upward, Erin sighed. “Mom, I'm nuts, not deaf.” She shared a smile with Annabelle before adding, “At least, they think I'm nuts after they heard what I told them.” “What did you tell them?” Annabelle asked. With a big breath, Erin sat up and gripped Annabelle's hand. “He disappeared. Poof. Gone.” “Who?” “Lucas. We were parked at the lake, making out in the back seat of his car and—” “Oh, Lord!” Her mother hid her face in her hands. “Please, Mom, not now. I know I was stupid, but—” “You mean he ran out on you?” Annabelle asked, her temper rising at the man's irresponsible behavior. “No!” Erin snapped her lips shut. “No,” she said more calmly. “Hedisappeared . He, ah, well, we....” She sighed. “He, you know, wasfinishing .” “Oh, God.” Erin ignored her mother. She leaned toward Annabelle, eyes wistful. “It waswonderful . But when he ... you know ... this bright, shiny, filmy radiance flashed behind him, and I screamed. Then his eyes got all wide, and he ... you know. Then he disappeared.” She sat up closer. “Vanished. Poof. There was a pinpoint of light flittering around like a firefly, and then it flew away.” Erin grew quiet, her gaze focused somewhere far off. Annabelle watched, a prickly feeling increasing as

Erin's brow furrowed. “It was space aliens. It must have been,” Erin announced. Annabelle fell backwards into the chair behind her. It was worse than she'd thought. Her sister was certifiable. Was there any treatment? Erin frowned and stared at the door. “She was listening.” “Who?” Annabelle glanced around. “Dr. Duncan. Didn't you see the door close?” Annabelle was getting more worried by the minute. “I think looking in on you is part of her job.” “No. She's spying on me. She's one of them,” Erin insisted. “One of who?” “The aliens. Haven't you been listening?” “Honey,” Annabelle said, taking Erin's hand, “there aren't any space aliens. Lucas didn't disappear.” “Then where is he?” How could she tell her poor, sick sister her lover had taken a powder? Boys never changed. And Granny had been so right. They never buy the cow if they can get the cream for nothing. “I know what you think. You think he got what he wanted and took off,” Erin said, correctly reading Annabelle's mind. “He didn't. We're going to get married. He loves me. He said so. He showed me he did. Something took him away, and nobody believes me, and nobody is looking for him, and what if they do awful things to him?” Erin's voice had grown louder and more strident. “I've got to find him! He needs me!” She tore the covers off and threw her legs over the opposite side of the bed. Before either Annabelle or her mother could react, Erin was out the door. “Erin! Come back!” Annabelle flew down the hall after her sister, but was too late to stop the two large, burly men under Dr. Duncan's quiet direction from taking two each of Erin's limbs and carrying her back to her room. “Let me go! Let me go! I have to find him! I have to find him! Let me go!” Erin kicked and screamed and fought, using teeth and nails and feet. The two men carried her as though she weighed nothing. They ignored her cries and the hysterical bucking of her body as she hung from her arms and legs between them. “Get her in bed and wait there for me.” After giving these directions, the pixie-like doctor turned to the Tinker women. “You'll have to leave while we get her sedated.” She gestured toward the waiting area and started off down the hall.

Annabelle followed her. “Doctor, what happened? She was so calm.” Dr. Duncan stopped and turned. “What did she do, exactly?” “She was telling me what happened to her boyfriend.” “What did she say? Her exact words if you can remember them.” Annabelle struggled to bring the picture to her memory—Erin lying in the bed, animated and funny, but worried about Lucas. “She said they—” A warmth flashed over her cheeks. She felt she was betraying a confidence, yet the doctor had to have the information she needed to treat Erin. “They had sex in his car by the lake.” “Theywhat ?” The vehemence in the doctor's voice, the edge of disapproval, bothered Annabelle. It hadn't occurred to her that a doctor, especially one as young as Dr. Duncan, would be a prude. After all, this was a college town, filled to overflowing with young, healthy people, some free of parental supervision for the first time, surrounded by a double pheromone cocktail. “Of all the stupid...” The doctor's whispered words jerked her back the present. “Excuse me?” she asked, confused by the change in the doctor's attitude from shock to irritation. Dr. Duncan clamped her lips together. “I'm sorry. Please, go on.” “When...” she paused, glancing into the doctor's eyes. “Well, Erin said when he, ah....” “Ejaculated,” the doctor helpfully offered the clinical word. “Yes. Well, when he did, Erin says he vanished.” The doctor stared at her for a long time. Annabelle stared back, waiting for a question. A comment. Something? Dr. Duncan stared. And stared. She couldn't be sure, but Annabelle though she saw a twinkle of humor in the doctor's green eyes. And did the corners of her little bow mouth tip up in the threat of a grin? “Let me get this straight,” she finally—finally—said. “Lucas Riley had his orgasm, and then he vanished into thin air?” The deep growl of masculine laughter behind her made Annabelle jump before she could form an answer. She jerked around, alarmed by the unexpected sound. The two orderlies had come up behind her. Now they stood, waiting for Dr. Duncan's orders, hands in their pockets, deep chuckles still rumbling from their chests. Their humor stuck Annabelle in her indignant bone. “What exactly is so funny about this?” Annabelle asked sharply.

“Nothing, ma'am,” one said, though he raised his hand and whispered behind it, too loud for Annabelle not to hear it. “Sounds like the lad had a good time.” Another deep rumble of amusement followed. “This is not funny!” “Indeed not.” The doctor directed a glare at them. The two men responded not by smothering their grins, but merely by directing their eyes to the floor. “Is there anything else I need to know?” the doctor asked. “Well, only that she seemed so calm, and then she said something about space aliens taking Lucas off for experiments and that you, Dr. Duncan, were spying on her. She said you were one ofthem . The space aliens.” The doctor didn't seem offended. In fact, her response was quite positive. “Excellent,” she said, exchanging a glance with the orderlies. “Gentlemen, would you stay with Miss Tinker while I speak with her sister?” “Certainly, Doc.” The two men left them alone. Dr. Duncan crossed her arms and drew a breath. Annabelle mimicked her, knowing serious words were coming. “You must not be fooled by the calm façade, Ms. Tinker. Your sister is very disturbed. She is displaying clear, paranoid delusions, and now she's involving me in them.” She pursed her lips as though thinking over her words. “That may help us, or it could hurt our course of treatment. We'll just have to wait and see. I'm going to sedate her and let her rest. I suggest the same for you and your mother. We'll call you when she wakes up.” “Please let me stay with her.” The doctor's frown prompted Annabelle to add, “My sister has always been levelheaded and sure of herself, doctor. You can't imagine how unnerving it is to see her like this, but I think I can help keep her calmed down, now that I'm aware of how serious her condition is. Please let me stay.” “I don't know...” “Annabelle, what's going on? Where's my baby?” Her mother interrupted, wringing her hands together, nearly tying her fingers in knots. Dr. Duncan stepped up to her, taking her hands. “Mrs. Tinker, I'm going to sedate Erin so she can rest. Go home and get some sleep.” “No, no, I won't leave her!” Susan's tone was as frantic as Erin's had been before she'd flown out of her room. “Mom,” Annabelle said, taking over the situation. “I'll be here. Go home and try to sleep. You can't help Erin if you collapse from exhaustion.” Her mother calmed. Dr. Duncan stepped back, allowing Annabelle to manage her mother.

“I'll never be able to sleep. I'll just stay, too.” “Oh, no.” Annabelle shook her head. “Absolutely not. The doctor is going to give you something to help you sleep. You are going home, taking a pill, getting into bed and sleeping. I'll stay with Erin and call you if there's any change, for better or worse.” Susan held onto Annabelle's hands and soon her breathing was slowing to match Annabelle's consciously slow breaths. “Doctor, can you give my mother something to help her sleep?” “I'd be glad to.” The tiny woman went to the nurse's station. While she was gone, Annabelle sat her mother down. “Thank you, Mom. This will be better, I promise.” “All right, dear,” Susan sighed. “I'm sorry I'm so useless.” “You're not useless,” Annabelle offered helplessly. Susan gazed at her, her eyes swimming. “I know I am, but you're an angel to try to say otherwise. Just like your father was an angel.” She sighed. Annabelle wished she could say something to help. “If there'sany change?” “Yes, I'll call. Promise.” Susan wrapped her in a big hug that went on and on. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” Annabelle squeezed back, breathing in the subtle fragrance of her mother's ginseng soap. It was a familiar scent, comforting. Something that said, “Everything's going to be okay,” in spite of her own sick feeling this situation would blow her own life completely to Neptune. Whatcha gonna do?It was what her Dad had always asked in such situations. Somehow it had always turned out okay. Except when he'd said it about himself, and the illness that smothered the life out of him. Whatcha gonna do? Her mother's gentle chuckle shook her. Annabelle realized with a start she'd spoken the mantra aloud. “Oh, how I've wished to hear those words today! You sounded just like your father.” Susan squeezed tighter. “Thank you.” Was that all it took? Susan eased her embrace and stood back a step. “I'll be all right, dear. You take care of Erin, and I'll be good.”

“Here you are, Mrs. Tinker. There are two. Should be enough.” “I won't need them now, doctor.” The doctor pressed the tiny envelope into Susan's hand. “Take it, just in case.” Susan accepted the sedative and dropped it in her purse. She squeezed Annabelle's hand and left. After the elevator doors closed on Susan, Dr. Duncan said, “You handled that very well. Ever think of being a shrink?” Annabelle chuckled. “No, thanks.” Dr. Duncan smiled. “I'm going to see Erin now. I'll come find you when you can go back to sit with her.” Annabelle sighed as the weight of it all settled on her shoulders. First, a fragile, grieving, dependent mother to take care of, and now, a demented sister. Who was going to take care ofher ? CHAPTER TWO

The next few hours crept by. Annabelle sat at Erin's side as she slept the uneasy sleep of the drugged. Annabelle dozed in the ugly, brown plastic chair beside the unnaturally high hospital bed. She felt guilty for being tired when her family was in such turmoil. Why had things started going so badly for the Tinkers? When had they? Never had Annabelle missed her father more than this minute. “Dad would know exactly what to do,” she said, knowing even as she said the words they weren't true. Vern Tinker had been no more Superman than the guy in the movies and, more unfortunately, no more immune to death, but to Annabelle, he'd seemed able to handle any emergency. “Mom?” Erin's voice, cloudy with sleep, interrupted Annabelle's self-pity. “Mom's gone home, honey.” Annabelle leaned over Erin and brushed back her hair. “I'm here, though.” Erin turned up a weak smile. “I knew you would be.” She tried to sit up, prompting Annabelle to reach for the remote control for the bed. After raising the head of the bed to make Erin more comfortable, she sat down again. “How do you feel now?” It was a stupid question, but how else to get a conversation started? Erin shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” A flush colored her fair face. “I'm sorry I went crazy like that.” “It's okay. Don't worry—”

“No, it's not okay. I don't know why I acted like that. It's not like me to go out of control.” She raised her eyes to Annabelle's. “You know that, right?” “Sure, I do. You're as normal as I am.” Erin smiled. “I had wondered if maybe whatever happened to Mom...” She didn't need to finish. Both Tinker sisters had heard their Granny Smith's words on how Susan Smith Tinker had changed in her twenty-second year. They sat in an uneasy silence. “Annabelle, I have to ask you a favor.” “Sure, honey, anything.” Erin didn't give her a second to think about her promise. “Find Lucas for me.” Annabelle felt her eyes go wide. “What? You can't be serious, Erin.” “You don't believe something happened to him, do you?” Annabelle paused before deciding to answer truthfully. “No.” “Then he's right here in town somewhere. If he was just using me and left me after he got what he was after, find him and bring him here so I can see him and spit in his face.” Sounded like a good idea. “I don't know what the doctor would say...” “I don't care. If nothing's happened to him, find him.” It was a challenge to Annabelle's certainty.If you're so smart and I'm so gullible, Erin was saying,go prove it . “All right. Do you have a picture?” “Yes, but it's not a good one.” Erin pointed to the small closet in the corner of the room. “I think my things might be in there.” Annabelle opened the closet and got Erin's bag. She tossed it to Erin and waited while she went through it. Erin finally retrieved her wallet and popped it open. She pulled a picture from a plastic frame and held it up. “The light was funny. He was angry my friend snuck up on him and snapped it.” Annabelle took the picture and glanced quickly. “What's with him? Camera shy?” Suddenly, her attention was pulled back to the image of the tall, handsome man standing by Erin in the picture. “What's this?” Holding the picture so Erin could see, Annabelle pointed to a spectrum of light surrounding the man. It

radiated from him, shades of purple and deepest blue. “It looks like an aura,” Annabelle said, marveling at the photographed radiance. “Lucas said it was a reflection off the camera lens. My friend said she'd never seen anything like it before.” Annabelle passed her finger over the picture as she stared at the image. Erin's voice grew fainter until... “Annabelle! Aren't you listening?” Annabelle shook herself out of her fascination with her sister's boyfriend's picture and turned to Erin. “I'm sorry. It's just so beautiful.” Erin smiled. “Yes, he is, but he's taken.” A laugh escaped Annabelle's lips. “No, sweetie, not him. It.” “It?” Erin frowned. “The aura. It's rare to see one so perfectly photographed, and even then it's always faked. Wonder how he did this?” “I told you, he didn't do anything. He didn't even want his picture taken.” “Whatever. So, where should I start?” “You're the investigative reporter.” “Honey, I write absurd pieces for a supermarket tabloid. I'm hardly a reporter.” “Well, you were trained to be. So do it.” Erin crossed her arms over her chest and gave Annabelle a pointed stare. Erin really knew where to stick it, didn't she? “Okay. But even Lois Lane needed a lead now and again. So, help me out. Where does he hang out? Friends? How about his address, phone number?” Annabelle got out her notebook and pen and waited. “His address is 572 College Street. His brother, Gaelen, lives in town, too.” She sat up, watching Annabelle copying this information. “G-A-E-L-E-N, I think it is.” “Unusual. What's he like?” “Don't know. Haven't met him. Lucas says he's really busy and not very sociable. He's a professor at the University. Celtic Lit.” “All right, Erin. I'll find him, but you'd better be ready to accept the truth, whatever it is.” A fleeting shadow of fear crossed Erin's eyes, and a long moment passed before she answered. “I will.”

Annabelle sat by Erin's side even after her sister drifted back to sleep, and spent the remaining hours until daybreak trying to doze in the chair or watching—for what she didn't know—out the large window. After their mother came to take Annabelle's place at Erin's bedside, Annabelle left the hospital on her mission. Naturally, she checked Lucas's apartment first. As she raised her hand to knock, the door flew open. She jumped back a step, expecting someone to come out. An empty moment stretched into two. Still no one appeared at the door. “Hello!” She peered inside the open doorway. “Anyone home?” Annabelle waited a moment, listening for an answer. Her eyes focused on a hallway, one she guessed led to the bedroom. About to enter the apartment, she stepped across the threshold, but froze at the sound of a crash, followed by shattering glass. “Who's there? Lucas?” Her conscience rang an alarm at entering a person's home without an invitation. She pushed it aside. After all, Lucas Riley was practically family. Slowly, gaze on the far door, ears anxious for more signs of the intruder who was tearing up the place, she crossed the tiny foyer and stopped at the corner of the kitchen pass-through. An angry sound like the shaking of a crystal chandelier in an earthquake, a twinkling, though agitated sound—one she'd have said was a curse if there had been words—crystallized in the silence. “Who's there? Come out here before I call the cops!” Annabelle knew how stupid it was for a perfect stranger to be threatening to call the police to an apartment she herself had practically broken into. But before she could make herself leave, another, completely different twinkling sound rang from the bedroom. “All right, I'm dialing,” she bluffed. Annabelle was drawn to the sounds in the bedroom. Comforted the sound didn't remind her of the rustling of sheets, she was certain someone was searching Lucas Riley's bedroom. She also knew in another situation, she'd be out the door and really calling the cops, but this time, she hesitated, oddly bereft of fear. She took step after step down the hallway, toward the intruder. She wanted to see the person. It was so important to see who this was. The twinkle chimed again—this time with the sound of command. “That's so odd,” she whispered. There were no words, but the meaning underlying the twinkling sounds was clear. She hadn't stopped moving down the hallway, and now approached the door to the bedroom. It looked pretty much as she'd have guessed a single man's bedroom would look, not that she had much experience in that area. Okay, no experience, but she set that problem aside for now and gazed around the room.

A plain double bed—no headboard—sat against the wall, small tables on both sides, surfaces swept clean. The broken lamp on the floor explained the crash she'd heard earlier now. The bed had an appearance of permanent mess, as though it hadn't been made up in weeks. A medium-sized dresser faced the bed on the opposite wall, its drawers hanging open, empty. It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened to the contents. Clothes littered the floor. She scanned the room for another exit, but saw no way the intruder could have escaped. The utter stupidity of her actions, coming into the bedroom alone, struck her in a flash. Whoever had done this was still in the room. Annabelle swallowed a throatful of apprehension. Her gaze settled on the closet, a small deal with folding doors. She'd lived in enough apartments to know how small the closets could be. Whoever was in there couldn't be very big. And somewhere in the back of her mind, surfacing just now, was the reporter's instinct that whoever it was had something to do with Lucas. “Well, duh.” She shook her head in self-derision, then advised herself, “This is really stupid, Annabelle. Get out of here.” She turned to go, fully intending to hotfoot it out of here before she became an FBI statistic, when a sound stopped her in her tracks, a twinkling sound that made her want to smile. A laugh escaped her. “Come on, now, who's in there? I'm not scared, so you might as well come out.” Not quite believing herself, Annabelle approached the closet and pulled on the doorknob, folding one-half of the door back. A furious jingle, the clothes hanging in the closet rippled like the wake of theTitanic , and then three sparks flew out of the closet right by Annabelle's head. She squeaked, her first real charge of fright raising her voice to soprano territory. She slapped at her hair, sure sparks from a fire were about to set her ablaze. But there was no fire. About to push aside the clothes and see what was going on in the closet, Annabelle stopped, hand in the air, and turned slowly toward the door leading to the rest of the apartment. Three, perfect, twinkling, shimmering spots of light flew out the door. Just like Tinkerbell. She stood staring. Annabelle shook her head to clear it. “Tinkerbell! For heaven's sake, get a grip!” She applied herself to picking up the clothes and laying them across the bed, looking for a clue to Lucas's whereabouts, a matchbook from a bar, a take-out menu, or ticket stubs from a porno house. Finding nothing, she went out into the small kitchen.

The sink overflowed with unwashed dishes. First, dismissing this poor housekeeping as only more substantiation for the bachelor-slob myth, Annabelle looked again. Then she tried to raise the top dish, using only one fingertip in an effort to avoid the mess. The five dishes stuck one to another as though superglued. “Ugh.” Annabelle let the pile down again gingerly. Lucas Riley must be the world's worst housekeeper. Still, something didn't fit the rest of the scene. Other than the mess in the bedroom—an obvious ransacking job—the apartment was clean, no pizza boxes littering the coffee table or discarded newspapers or girlie magazines carpeting the floor. Someone kept this place up. And if he had a housekeeper, why hadn't she done the dishes? Something didn't add up until Annabelle followed the evidence before her eyes to the obvious conclusion. “He hasn't been here for a few days.” This struck her as the most likely explanation. And it made Erin's story of his disappearance more troubling. And those flying points of light? They weren't UFOs. Were they? Annabelle dropped down in the big recliner facing the entertainment center, letting everything settle down in her head. “There aren't any UFOs, Annabelle. You make those stories up, remember?” Still, something had flown out of the closet, close enough to her head that she could still hear the ... how could she describe it? Twinkle?No , she decided,it was a tinkle. Annabelle thought she should check herself into the hospital where she and Erin could spin yarns all day long. Only now she believed there was something there besides self-delusion. “I amnot nuts.” Once didn't convince her, so she repeated it, a sanity mantra. There was nothing more to find here. Not even a clue about where Lucas Riley spent his free time. With a deep breath, Annabelle started to get up, when the phone rang. After three rings, the recorded message came on asking the caller to leave his name. No wonder Erin didn't want to admit what a snake he was. Lucas spoke in a rumbling bass tinged with the faintest hint of an accent; so faint she couldn't quite place it. It was about the sexiest thing she'd ever heard. At least that was her opinion before she heard the caller's voice. “Lucas? You'd better be pickin’ up that phone, boyo. Come on, now, pick up!” Deeper, richer, the accent a bit stronger, perhaps because of irritation? As seconds ticked by, the caller waited. Annabelle caught her breath, waiting with him, hoping he'd speak again. “All right, you want to play that game, do you? Fine. Lucas, this is your brother, Gaelen. I'm in my office. I just got a call to a convocation, and you're invited too, lad, if you can fit business into your busy social calendar. I have no idea what it's about, only Eochy said it was urgent. So, get your rear up there.”

Gaelen hung up, leaving Annabelle to shake off a feeling of loss. It was ridiculous. She didn't even know the man. Just because he sounded sexy and handsome didn't mean he was. Still, such a voice couldn't be wasted on an unassuming man. It had to be just one piece of a total package. And quite a package it must be. “Oh, stop it,” she chided herself, leaning back in the recliner and drumming her fingers on the worn arms. “You have to concentrate on the other Riley brother.” Of course, to find Lucas Riley one might use his brother,she thought, the added bonus brightening the whole scenario. Peeking through the pile of bills and papers on the coffee table by the telephone, Annabelle searched for an address book or a telephone book. There was a university catalog. Erin said Gaelen Riley was a professor of Celtic Lit at the university, so he had to be listed. Annabelle thumbed through, quickly locating Riley among the language department members. His credentials were very impressive: B.A. in Linguistics from Rutgers, master's degree from Johns Hopkins, Ph.D. from Harvard, now a full professor at UNC. “Pretty tony background. Wonder if he's old money?” His office number was listed there, so she dialed. “Dr. Riley's office.” “Is Dr. Riley in?” “No, I'm sorry he isn't. May I ask who's calling?” Who?All her years in tabloid journalism hadn't been for nothing. “My name is Erin Tinker. I'm a...” Annabelle paused so the full effect of the word would hit Riley's secretary, “friendof his brother, Lucas.” “Oh, Erin! I didn't recognize your voice. It's Susie.” Uh-oh. What now? “Oh, Susie. Sure. I didn't recognize you either.” Annabelle decided to use the misunderstanding to her benefit. “Susie, I don't have a lot of time. Is Gaelen there? I need to talk to him about Lucas.” “Is something wrong?” Susie was a good friend if the concern in her voice was sincere. Annabelle almost felt guilty using her like this. “I'm not sure. I haven't seen him for a couple of days—we had a little fight.” Why not juice up the story a little? “I just wanted to make sure he was all right.” “Gee, I'm sorry. I haven't seen him since, I guess it was Monday.” Could it be coincidence Lucas hadn't been seen by a close friend since Monday, the same day of Erin's ill-fated date with him?

“Erin?” Again Annabelle noted the concern in Susie's voice. A needle-sharp prick of envy pierced her heart. She didn't have a close friend who'd care what had happened to her. The only person she'd told about her trip to North Carolina had been her editor. “Erin?” Susie asked again. “Are you okay? What's happened?” Annabelle shook off her self-pity. “It's nothing, Susie. Can you tell me where Gaelen is?” “You just missed him. He got a call a few minutes ago and dashed out. He said he'd be back as soon as he could, but he didn't say where he was going. Didn't sound like he'd be gone long, though.” The mysterious convocation he'd mentioned in his message? Where was it? What was it? “You sure you're okay?” “Yeah, I'm sure. Don't worry. Thanks.” As Annabelle hung up the phone on Susie's next question, she hoped she hadn't ruined her sister's friendship with her deception. More urgent, though, she'd hit a dead end. For now. CHAPTER THREE

“Of all the inconsiderate, arrogant, downrightsassenach things to do!” His footsteps and angry words echoed off the stone walls, reverberating through the hand-hewn hallway descending beneath the New Jersey countryside. Gaelen didn't care. The Council had to know this was a bad time to call a convocation. His paper was due next week at the editorial offices ofCeltic Review , and he still had exams to grade from last semester. “But we can't take the time to check people's calendars. Oh, no. Just—” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers in front of his face, “and we're supposed to come flyin'!” Rounding the corner, he headed for the chamber at the end of the corridor. The reddish glow from the doorway froze him for a moment, giving him a chill of uncertainty. Had he missed something in Eochy's terse summons? No matter. Gaelen swept his uneasiness aside. So the better acoustics in this section of the tunnel could warn Eochy and the others of his sour mood, Gaelen raised his voice. Let them know what to expect before he entered. “I've got a life, unlikesome people!” he shouted toward the open door. “Hurry up, Gaelen,” came the reply from the chamber. “We've got lives, too, and they're wastin’ away waitin’ on you.” A rumble of male laughter and a few well thought-out curses accompanied Eochy's words.

Gaelen's mood soured. It didn't get any better when he entered the Council chamber. His feet froze on the stone floor of the cave. His voice froze in his throat. The circular table, nearly forty feet across, a cross-section cut from a single tree—no one knew how long ago—occupied the middle of the chamber. Seated around the table were ninety-nine members of the Council of One Hundred. “Take your seat, Gaelen.” Though he heard the leader of the Council very clearly, Gaelen was still rooted to the spot where he'd stopped, staring until his eyes hurt. “Gaelen?” Eochy stood and came toward him with his bandy strut. “Why aren't you prepared?” “No one told me.” “You've lost track of time out there in the Otherworld. You should call home more often.” Eochy grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the only empty chair at the table. “Now, get ‘em out.” “No.” “What?” “I'm not going to parade my private parts for the entire assembly,” Gaelen insisted. “We've all got ours out,” Eochy said. They did, indeed. Each and every person at the table had them out and the iridescence caught the light from the stones mounted in the smooth chiseled walls of thesidhe . “Gaelen, we can't begin the convocation until you get your wings out.” There, somebody said theW-word. Damn. Damn. “Look,” he pleaded, “I haven't had them out in years. They'll be all wrinkled and...” Eochy waved to the doorkeepers. Two strapping lads, selected for their brawn and lack of humor, came up behind Gaelen, each one taking a sleeve of his heather tweed jacket. R-r-r-i-i-i-i-p-p-p-p-p! “Hey! That's my favorite jacket,” Gaelen protested. “It's ugly,” one of the brutes muttered, with what might have been a smile on a less stony face. Then off came his shirt. His one hundred dollar, handmade dress shirt. It wasn't fairy-tailored, so they had to pull harder, but off it came.

Gaelen sat, humiliation bubbling with the stomach acid, and waited. It would only get worse. The chill of the room and the prickly feeling of all eyes on him made his wings pucker and swell. He thought he could control himself until... Oh, no. Not Carly.Anybody but her. Carly O'Malley smiled at him from the gallery, and her wings—Oh, Bridget, what wings the woman had—shimmered three shades each of red and gold. The snickering around the table had Gaelen's already rough temper near to boiling. “Ah, Gaelen, me boyo, you've a lass interested in seeing your wings.” “I've seen ‘em,” Carly said, “and a sight worth waitin’ for they are.” Women tittered at Carly's words. A sharp snapping pain twisted in his shoulders. Biting his tongue, he winced as the thin skin unfolded, first on the left, then on the right. Not good to keep them packed away like that, his ol’ da had said.Gotta shake ‘em out and stretch ‘em once in a while, boy. The men on the Council and in the audience grimaced in amused compassion. The women were not so kind. They watched, eyes widening, tongues flicking out to moisten their lips, their anticipation palpable. Gaelen was a tall man and, he'd been told by women—most recently the exquisite Carly O'Malley—he was extremely well-formed. In all his parts. Of course, he'd kept his wings folded as he always did unless he'd had warning of some ceremonial occasion like this one, but everybody knew that a man's wingspan was precisely equitable to the size of his... “Ohhhh,” he moaned, unable to control them as they spurted faster, fuller, taller. “Oooooh.” The women echoed his moans with their own. “Just look at the coloring!” “Wouldn't you just love to see those things sprout over your head in the dark?” Sprout. “Aren't you finished yet?” Eochy asked. His own wings wagged impatiently, the fairy equivalent to the tapping toe and just as irritating. Gaelen tried to relax, but he couldn't resist a quick comment. He was ticked and hoped Eochy knew it. “If you'd give people some notice, Eochy, and not spring these things.”

Eochy smiled. That was always a bad sign. “If you'd check your E'mail once in awhile you'd be better informed. I sent a reminder just a week ago, Otherworld time.” Gaelen shook out his wings and tried to make himself comfortable with their unfamiliar weight on his shoulders. “E'mail? You sent it by E'mail?” He looked around then, scanning the crowd. “Where's Lucas?” When he didn't spot his little brother, he settled back in the chair and smirked at Eochy. “There, see? You must have left us off your E'mail alias, Eochy. Lucas checks the E'mail, and he isn't here either.” Eochy smiled again. Double-damn. “That's right. And if you'll look at your agenda, you'll see Lucas is item number three.” His mouth snapped shut and Gaelen jerked his eyes down to the single sheet of paper lying on the table in front of him. Spotting number three, he decided he'd keep his mouth shut for a bit longer. The ritual preliminaries passed without Gaelen even hearing them. He'd responded by rote, ignoring the meaning and depth of the words. Still seething, shoulder blades sore, deadlines and unfinished work weighing on his mind—it was all giving him a splitting headache. Not to mention having his brother waiting for him at number three. “Now,” Eochy intoned, settling his spectacles on the tip of his nose. “Item one, the ‘Fairy Controversy.’ Without objection, since this relates to the matter of item three, we'll pass on to item two, ‘Reclaiming Ireland for Her Indigenous Peoples.'” Eochy pulled off his specs and leaned on the table. “Phelan, I know you mean well,” Eochy said, his eyes meeting those of the man on Gaelen's left, “but we made a deal with them. We can't back out after three thousand years.” “But it was abad deal. That Spaniard con man took us, and we all know it.” Eochy squashed a smile. Gaelen felt his own lips move with unwelcome amusement. “Well, Phelan, we can all agree that agreeing to splitting Ireland in half and accepting the half underground was not the most shrewd land transaction in the history of the world, but what's done is done. This Council has had this debate at least once a year for three thousand years, and I'm sure everyone is getting tired of it.” “I make a motion to table the issue,” one of the Hundred said. “I second,” another said. Gaelen could predict the process. Phelan wasn't to be deterred. “I demand a recorded vote.” He sneered at the assembly. “Just so we know who the weak-kneed fairies are.”

Moans and expletives in various languages, some of them very interesting to a linguist like Gaelen in their imagination, and the variety of suggestions as to what Phelan could do with himself, various barnyard beasts, and sundry of his own female relatives. “Give him his vote, Eochy,” Gaelen muttered, just wanting the whole thing over with. He glanced down again at the agenda and Lucas's name there, and he tried to remember how long it had been since he'd seen his younger brother. And he started to worry. Eochy grimaced. “All right, the motion has been made.” Gaelen blocked out the droning voices and voting. He focused his mind and tried to find his brother. ~*~

“Holy Bridget!” Lucas Riley struggled through the open window of Erin's house. His shirt stuck to the trickle of blood oozing from his torn wings. How could I have been so stupid? Acting like an untried schoolboy on his first outing, forgetting himself to the point of... Lucas scrambled over the sill and set one foot down on the floor inside the Tinker's sprawling executive ranch house. It was dark still, but it would be daylight soon and he had to be gone before Mrs. Tinker was up and around. He had to check on Erin. The terror on her face just as he popped out was imprinted on his memory and made him heartsick that he'd caused her such anguish. Worse, he'd not been able to stop himself until somewhere near the Great Pyramid. When he'd gotten back to where they'd been parked, Erin was gone. “Oh, Bridget! What must she think?” A twisting, mangled ripping mutilated him deep inside. He laughed at himself. “Aye, boyo, and you've got it pretty bad, ha’ you not?” Aye, I do, he admitted to himself as he struggled to his feet and headed down the long hallway between the bedrooms at the end of the house, peeking around the doorways, not making a sound, not even breathing. Thelast thing he needed was for Mrs. Tinker to hear him. He didn't think he could face her yet. But no danger was terrifying enough to keep him from his love's side. “This one, I think,” he whispered, his voice inaudible even to his own ears. He eased around the doorframe and adjusted to the darkness inside the room. “Erin.” The gray outline of a bed faced him. She isn't here.“Erin,” he whispered more loudly. There was no answer, no uneasy shifting of a sleeping body on the bed. “Erin!” he said aloud. “Where are you?”

~*~

There you are, you little punk! “Have you located him, Gaelen?” Gaelen jerked his eyes from the polished surface of the table to meet Eochy's. So, the old bantam was watching me.Gaelen smiled, but didn't answer. Eochy studied him for a moment, then bent his gray head over his papers. “All right, now that Phelan's nonsense is over for another year, can we please move on to item three?” He perched his specs on the edge of his nose again and peered over them at Gaelen. “This is the most egregious case of miscegenation we've ever had to deal with.” Gaelen hated that word—miscegenation—and wondered how his people had chosen it to describe relations between fairies and others. To him, it smacked of evil hiding beneath white sheets, a word born of fear and irrational hatred. “Lucas Riley has taken up with a non-fairy woman,” Eochy announced. There was no exhaled gasp of surprise. This was really not a big deal. “So what, Eochy? Lots of us take up with non-fairies,” Gaelen put in. “Of course, but we're not talking about pixies or sprites or the unfortunate attraction some of us have for...” Eochy pulled off his specs and grimaced, “trolls. I, for one, could never understand that, but to each his own, I say.” “So, Lucas's own is a non-fairy,” Gaelen repeated. “She is a human.” The gasp of surprise finally rolled over the assembly. “Human?” Gaelen sat forward and stared. “I don't believe it. Lucas isn't stupid. He knows the laws.” “Know the laws he may, still, he is consorting with a human and he has had relations with her. Not only that, Gaelen, but he allowed her to see his true nature, and she's going to spread the news around that college town like pixie dust at Christmas.” Eochy tossed a tabloid newspaper across the table. It slid the last two feet to stop, opened to the front page, right in front of Gaelen. “Read that. Once the reporters get wind of this, the story will be on the newsstands in the next issue.” Gaelen lowered his eyes, his stomach already churning. The words on the page jumped out at him, putting his acid pump into overdrive. Co-ed's Sad Tale: My Boyfriend was Abducted by Aliens!

Gaelen swallowed a mouthful of sour spit, then looked for the subheading. Ripped from the Arms of His Lover. He couldn't read any more. “How do you know this is about Lucas? You know, Eochy, these tabloids make all this stuff up,” Gaelen said. “Do they?” Eochy relaxed, leaning back in his chair and absently twirling the tip of his wing around his meaty fingers. “What about the face on Mars? Hmmm? And I suppose they justmade up the story about Elvis Presley working at a gas station in Kalamazoo? No, Gaelen, these guys are the most tenacious investigators on the planet. I just thank the Lord thereare aliens. Otherwise, we would have already been found out and either disbelieved out of existence or the Council of Elders in Ireland would have our heads mounted in the empty places at Newgrange.” “Come on, Eochy, they don't take heads anymore.” Even as Gaelen said it, his smile faded. The expressions he saw on the faces around him had him wondering. Eochy wasn't smiling at all. “The reason the Fairy Controversy was put on the agenda is this. We've gotten directives from the Council in Ireland to cease all contact with mortals. It's just too dangerous.” “What!” The word echoed all around the chamber. Gaelen stared in disbelief. “Eochy, that's unreasonable. We all,” he motioned around the chamber, “have careers, lives out there. We can't just drop them—” He paused, not even having the words to continue, “to do what? To go where?” “I suspect we'll all be ordered back to Ireland.” The grumble of discontent grew louder. “Look, people, I didn't do this. Irresponsibility like that practiced by Lucas Riley did.” Eochy leaned back in his big chair. “Don't you remember the stories in Britain in the twenties? A bunch of fairies thought it would befun to reveal themselves to some schoolgirls. These schoolgirls got their little Brownie camera out and,voila ! Sir Arthur Conan Doyle gets on the case and our pictures are all over the London papers.” He sighed. “I understand, believe me I do, but times have changed. Revealing ourselves only results in mortal folk going out of their way to disprove our existence. Do you know how many fairies faded to nothing, just because a number of our group couldn't keep their wings folded up?” Eochy's voice rumbled off the walls, rattling the magic stones in their brass mountings. The last time Eochy had gotten this worked up, he'd shattered a couple of stones and, until they could get some shipped in from Ireland, the North American Council of Fairies had held their meetings in the dark. “So, what happened, Eochy?” someone asked. “As far as I can tell, Lucas and this young lady, this—” Eochy referred to his notes. “Erin Tinker. Yes, she's a nursing student at the University. They were ... well, anyway, when he...” Eochy yanked his specs off. “His wings popped up, and she screamed, and he squooshed.”

“He squooshed with his wings extended?” another fairy asked. “Ouch!” said one compassionate listener. “Didn't you explain the facts of life to your brother, Gaelen?” “My father did,” Gaelen replied, angry his family was the center of such a scandal. When Gaelen got his hands on his little brother, Lucas would have more to think about than a pair of sore wings. But such a mishap would explain the pain Gaelen sensed when he'd had contact with Lucas earlier. He felt Lucas's injury in the right wing, the torn connective tissue underneath the shoulder blade. A sympathetic twinge reminded Gaelen of a similar injury he himself had sustained in similar circumstances. But not with a human, for Bridget's sake! “He's hurt, Eochy.” “All the more reason to handle this matter right here. He must be brought before the Council. He must be dealt with. The girl, too.” Gaelen shuddered. “What are you saying?” Eochy's wise old black eyes fixed on him. “We might be able to handle this ourselves. But we must not be discovered. If we can contain this, prevent the tabloids from spreading the story, maybe I can convince the Elders to rescind their order. But, we can't risk our literal lives for the sake of our lives in the Otherworld. If the humans find out about us...” Eochy spread his hands. “Well, you know how quick they are to disbelieve.” “Some of them believe,” Gaelen said. Eochy nodded. “Some of them will believeanything . But humans as a race cling to the belief they have a clue about what's going on in the universe. When thescientists get started...” A murmur arose in the assembly and a wave of fear. “We'll all end up on ice at Area 51 with the aliens,” came a gruff prediction from the gallery. The idea of being a scientific curiosity appealed no more to Gaelen than it did to anybody else. If this story was true, then Lucas had committed a major felony. “So, what do you want me to do?” he finally ground out. “Find him. Bring him to us before the Elder Council learns of this incident.” “What will you do to him?” Gaelen asked, his belly twisting as he waited for the answer. “You know the penalty for consorting with a human and revealing the fairy nature.” Bile filled Gaelen's throat. He gulped it down and tried to keep his wings from trembling. “Eochy, you can't be serious.” Eochy closed his eyes and nodded gravely. “Banishment to Tir-Nan-Og.”

Oh, Bridget, Gaelen thought,eternal life with no responsibility might sound good in theory, but the lack of challenge made a man soft, useless. After a few thousand years of constant partying, one would plead for the rigors of Hell out of sheer boredom. Personally, he'd rather be disbelieved to death. At least then he'd see what was on the other side. “And the human girl?” Eochy wouldn't meet Gaelen's eyes. “We will not be discovered, Gaelen.” Gaelen's sick stomach flipped over. “Find him and bring him to us.” Eochy rose. “If there is no other matter to be discussed today, I will close this meeting.” He looked across the table to Gaelen. “Get him a good advocate, Gaelen. Maybe something can be done to mitigate this mess. Especially if he cooperates in silencing the human girl.” Wings fluttered as the Council of One Hundred rose and departed. ~*~ Gaelen sat alone at the table, only barely aware of how his wings were still twitching. Ordered back to Ireland. Bridget, what a curse. Not that he didn't like Ireland. He loved Ireland. He traveled there every year to talk to the Old Ones, to get new stories from fairies who'd been spinning tales for millennia.Since the days of Amergin, and the Spaniard's Land Swindle, he thought with a grin,and Tir-Nan-Og, the Land of Perpetual Youth, where you could live forever, young and strong and happy. Fairies were allowed to visit and even stay if the place took them, which it did—at first. He frowned. Club Med for fairies. A great place to visit, but not a place for a man to live. And even with wings on his back, Gaelen Riley was still a man, a man with a passion which couldn't be fulfilled in Tir-Nan-Og. Gaelen Riley's passion was teaching. How could a sprout like himself teach the Old Ones anything? How could he pass on to them the excitement of a tale of war and heroism and love? Fairiesare war and heroism and love.But humankind , he thought,they need the stories. They need the inspiration. What would they do without us? In that instant, he understood what he had to do, even if it made him sick. It was Gaelen's responsibility to make sure Lucas and his human didn't rock the boat. The cost—to both human and fairy—would be too great. Surely the life of one human girl wasn't too much to ask to make sure the magic of fairy and the drive of humankind remained available to each other? For without the magic, humankind would be smothered in the mundane. Without the drive and excitement of humankind, the fairy would be rudderless. Bridget! He'd die of boredom. Better to get it over with quick. Gaelen folded his wings and picked up his torn shirt and jacket.

Time to find Lucas and his human girl. CHAPTER FOUR

It was the flash of light at the window that awakened her. Annabelle groaned and raised her stiff neck off the back of the chair where she'd fallen asleep. Only after looking around and rubbing her gritty eyes did she remember where she was. Erin stirred in her sleep and murmured Lucas's name. Annabelle stood by the high hospital bed and tucked the blankets tighter around her sister, as though she could protect Erin from the heartache Lucas Riley had left behind him. Ticky-ticky. Annabelle jerked her head toward the sound. A bright pinpoint flickered then faded, accompanied by a ticky-ticky as whatever it was hit the glass. She left the bedside and approached the window. “Fireflies?” The light continued itsticky-ticky tapping at the window. “Annabelle?” Erin's sleepy voice carried in the silence of the late hour. “Are you still here?” Quickly returning to Erin, Annabelle took her hand. “Yes, and I'm going to stay here until you're better.” Erin shook her head. “You don't have to stay. You have your own life. What about your job?” Annabelle smiled. “Don't you worry about that; I have some vacation time. So, you'll have me in your hair until you're up and out of here and back to normal.” Erin took Annabelle's hand. “You think I'm crazy, too, don't you?” she asked pitifully. “No,” Annabelle answered truthfully. “I just think you've had a shock, and you're handling it the best way you can.” A huge sigh shook Erin's body. Annabelle thought she could hear tears hiding behind it. “He'd be here if he could,” Erin whispered. “Who?” Erin frowned. “Lucas, of course.” Her mouth opened and closed, but Annabelle couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't irritate her sister. “Look!” Erin's voice trembled. “They're here to get me, too!” She grabbed Annabelle's sleeve and pulled with one hand as she pointed with the other. “There. By the window! Just like when they took Lucas.” Annabelle followed the guidance of Erin's extended finger. There by the window was the solitary firefly.

“Honey,” she said, her voice calm even if her heart was thumping a hundred miles an hour, “it's just a firefly. See?” “No, Annabelle, it can't be! It's too early for fireflies.” Only then did it hit Annabelle that it was March, far too early for fireflies. But, there it was, a flickering point of light dancing at the window, smacking against it, as though asking to come in. Annabelle shivered. “It's them! Don't let them get me!” Erin's grip tightened, pulling Annabelle onto the bed. “Erin! Let me go. I'll close the curtains.” “That won't help. They can come through the walls. Don't you watch the Sci-Fi Network?” “No, I don't,” Annabelle replied in a deliberately calm voice, trying to free herself from Erin's grip. “What about the stories you write for your paper?” “Erin, you know perfectly well I make those up.” Finally loosening Erin's hold on her, Annabelle quickly went to the window, jerking the curtains closed. Now as anxious about the mysterious flickering light as Erin was, she hurried back to Erin's side, tightly taking her sister's hand. The sisters stared at the closed curtains, waiting, listening. Theticky-ticky stopped. “Annabelle, what do you think it is?” “It's nothing. I'll bet it's only leaves falling or maybe even raindrops catching the light from the room.” Before Erin could inform her it wasn't raining, she added, “Or maybe your guardian angel looking in on you.” “I think I need one,” Erin whispered, still clinging to Annabelle's hand. “Hey, squirt, loosen up. I gotta go.” With a fake grimace, she tipped her head toward the bathroom. “Sorry,” Erin whispered. “Sorry.” She released Annabelle's hand, but her grip tightened again and she said in a hoarse whisper, “Hurry, though. I don't want to be here alone when they come.” Was she always going to be nuts?Annabelle wondered. It was a struggle to keep her tone easy when she answered. “Sure thing,” she said, and escaped with all possible speed into the adjoining bathroom. Annabelle gently closed the door and only then did she permit her body to start shaking and the tears to pool. “Oh, Erin,” she moaned, struggling to keep her voice low.

It was so unfair. Sweet, trusting Erin had given her heart to a rat who'd betrayed her. Now the rodent was gone. At first Annabelle had been sure Erin had been driven delusional. Not only about the aliens who took Lucas, but about Lucas himself. Even after her visit to his apartment, Annabelle clung to her original theory: Lucas was laughing with his buddies in some bar about how he'd gotten Erin to put out and then left her to face the consequences alone. But she'd gone to every bar on Franklin Street, and a few on the side streets her father had forbidden her to even look at, much less enter. No Lucas. Of course, she hadn't told Erin any of this. She was sure her sister would go right off the edge if her fears about Lucas's safety were confirmed. Still he'd left her alone. No matter what happened later, that much was still true, and it was still enough to earn her big sister's ire. Preferring anger to fear, Annabelle nurtured that emotion. “The no-good—” She clipped off the rest of the words. He wasn't worth it. Thank Heaven, she'd listened to her Granny. At least she still had her self-respect, which was more than Erin would have when she finally snapped out of this fantasy. Meanwhile, she thought, her tears slipping trickling, one by one, down her cheeks, she could forget sharing the burden of their mother's care with her sister. Now Annabelle would have to put her own life on hold to take care of both Erin and their mother. Leaning over the small sink, she splashed cold water on her face and sniffed her tears to a stop. She dried her face and hands. Lowering the coarse white hospital towel, she stared into her own eyes. “Is this all life is? One disaster after another?” she whispered. Trying to see some hope in the plain brown eyes staring back at her from her reflection, Annabelle didn't notice the total silence until it was broken. “Lucas!” Erin's voice echoed clearly through the door. “Iknew you'd come.” “Lucas?” She shook her head. No one would be allowed up here except family. Her shoulders drooped as she realized what Erin's words meant. “Oh, no, please. She's talking to herself.” It didn't take a medical degree and advanced psychiatric training to see the deterioration of her sister's condition. Would institutionalization be necessary? How in the world would they pay for it? Thoughts of state-run facilities and the horror of it all played through Annabelle's mind. “Annabelle,” Erin called softly, “come here, hurry. Lucas is here.” Eyes squeezed shut, Annabelle prayed for guidance. Should she go along with the fantasy and pretend to see Lucas? Or should she confront Erin with her delusion? Gulping a breath of courage, she pulled the door open and stepped into the room. Erin lay in her bed, face alight with happiness. There was no Lucas standing by the bed.

“See, I told you he'd come,” she said. “Erin,” Annabelle began, “please, honey, can't you see you're just imagining? The lowdown, dirty skunk got what he wanted, and he left you alone in the woods, and you've just got to face facts.” Erin smiled, Cheshire cat-like. “Oh, really?” The scratching sound of the door and the scuffing of soft-soled shoes made Annabelle turn, expecting to see a night nurse coming with medication. Relieved to have some backup, she opened her mouth to ask for help in convincing Erin of her folly. A young man with shaggy russet hair, dressed in a doctor's green scrubs, peered out the door as it eased closed. He was very tall, slender but not slight, with wonderful, broad shoulders. Turning away from the door, he flashed a smile that twinkled in his black eyes and raised a finger against his lips. Annabelle watched him cross the room, pick up a straight-backed chair and take it to the door where he jammed it underneath the handle. “What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed by his action. “Who are you?” He came back toward her, his smile broadening as he extended his hand to her. “I'm the lowdown, dirty skunk, Lucas Riley.” ~*~

Squooshed and flying, Gaelen picked up the trail easily enough. The particle residue Lucas had left behind burned bright. Even a human could have seen it. “Holy Bridget!” he whispered as he followed it eastward out over the ocean. “That must have been one great lay!” The thought that all this trouble was caused by sex made Gaelen even angrier. It wasn't as though Lucas couldn't have found a fairy woman to dally with. Or even a pixie. There were many right in Chapel Hill, each one of them beautiful and lush and willing. The coast of northern Africa came into view. Slowing only a little—too slow and humans could see the pinpoint of light a squooshed fairy appeared to be, and it was better if they saw nothing at all—Gaelen oriented himself along the trail of fairy dust and followed it into the Valley of the Kings. The trail petered out at the Great Pyramid. At least Lucas had managed to keep himself on this world. Once, Gaelen forgot all his father's wise words and ended up on Jupiter, wing-deep in liquid ammonia and sore as hell. The girl hadn't spoken to him for years. Of course, she'd eventually come around and Gaelen had redeemed himself. Settling on the base of the Great Pyramid, Gaelen unsquooshed. “Whoa!” he put out his hand to steady himself, waiting for the dizziness to pass. He hated squooshing. It

was unnatural, smashing your atoms, compressing all the space out of them and reducing yourself to the size of a speck of light. But the lightheadedness of unsquooshing was the worst of it. “Ah, but that's the fairy way,” he repeated his old da's words. And for this particular task, it was the only way. He had to find Lucas, and get him and the girl back to New Jersey. “Lucas!” His sent his voice out over the countryside. If Lucas were within fifty miles, he'd hear. And if he were hurt, as Gaelen suspected, he'd stay here until he healed. “Lucas!” He repeated his call and strained to hear a sound. For the first time since leaving the Council Chamber, Gaelen began to worry. What if Lucas were hurt more severely than Gaelen had thought? When he'd been in contact with Lucas that one time, the injury hadn't seemed too bad, but.... “Lucas, answer me!” Where was he? Why no answer? He couldn't have flown back already, could he? Heart racing, Gaelen glanced around, making sure there were no humans about. Then he took a deep breath and.... Squa-ooosh! As a pinpoint of light, he flew over the pyramid and picked up Lucas's incoming trail again. “Ah-hah!” There, nearly parallel to the first, was a lighter trail, heading west. The puppy had covered his tracks going back. Gaelen would've smacked himself in the forehead if his hand had been material at that moment. He should have considered the possibility Lucas had turned around and flown home right away. The trail was clear enough once he looked for it. The jerk was probably lounging in his apartment, swilling a beer and laughing at how he'd led Gaelen on a merry chase. Given the alternative possibility—his little brother was really in trouble—Gaelen seized onto the less grave one. Lucas was fine and the girl had seen nothing. Then he allowed himself to get mad. “All right, Lucas, big brother is coming. You'd better have a good story.” He'd be back in Chapel Hill in less than ten seconds. ~*~

“You!” Annabelle shouted. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” “Shhh!” Erin hissed. “They'll hear you.” Ignoring Erin's admonition and Lucas's offered handshake, Annabelle headed for the door, fully intending

to pull the chair away and call a guard. “Oh, no, Annabelle,” Lucas said, his large fingers encircling her wrist. “I can't let you do that.” He pulled her away from the door and dragged her back to the bed. “Let me go!” Annabelle struggled, but he was stronger than he looked. In fact, she didn't see any strain on his face as he picked her up and dumped her onto Erin's bed. “Hey!” she huffed in indignation. Erin giggled. “Isn't hewonderful ?” Lucas stood by the bed and took Erin's hand. Their fingers laced together instantly, as though by long practice, and Erin gazed at him with naked adoration. Annabelle felt her heart begin to melt and hastened to freeze it again. “Now, first of all,” Lucas said, his voice tinged by a hint of an accent, exotic and familiar all at the same time, “I'm very pleased to meet you at last. Erin has told me so much about her big sister I feel I know you already.” Annabelle glared at him, refusing to be taken in by his charm. He went on. “Second, I'm very sorry about leaving Erin alone like I did.” He turned to face Erin. “I am, you know. I would never have left you, but...” A scowl twisted his handsome features. “Well, I can't explain now. Soon, but not yet. It's safer if you don't know anything.” “Aw,puh -leeeez!” Annabelle scoffed. “What are you, a secret agent?” She moved to get up and open the door and call—no, scream—for the guards. “Annabelle,” Lucas whispered after her. “Please listen. I swear I'm telling the truth.” It was his voice, not any force—because he didn't lay a finger on her—that kept Annabelle in place. And the unreasonable urge she felt tobelieve. Lucas took a deep breath. “I would tell you now, but I can't.” “Why not, darling?” Erin asked, her voice gentle, totally lacking in anger. Annabelle decided to be angry for her little sister. “Yes, Lucas, why not? Why can't you explain to my sister how you used her then ran off to ... what? Laugh it up with your buddies at how she put out for you?” “No! That's not it at all!” “Lucas.” Erin reached for his arm, her voice soothing in contrast to the edge in Lucas's. “She's just worried about me. She doesn't believe what I told her, about the aliens.” “Aliens?” he asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “I saw them take you. Are you all right?” She ran her hand up and down Lucas's arm, as though searching for wounds. “Did they stick things up your nose? Did they put anything inside your head?”

Incredibly, as he stared into Erin's face, his own lightened and an angelic smile spread. His eyes crinkled and Annabelle's animosity melted under the sunshine of his expression. “It wasn't aliens, Erin. It wasme .” “What?” “Can you trust me for a while?” “Of course.” “I'll tell you everything very soon.” He laughed out loud. “Though I'll not promise it makes any more sense than aliens.” Turning to Annabelle, he asked, “Will you trust me, Annabelle?” In spite of her determination to treat him like the skunk he was, as she looked into his black, sparkling eyes, Annabelle found herself wanting to say the words, “I believe.” Still, her silent thoughts denied it. “You haven't told me anything I can believe,” she replied. Lucas squinted at her, as though studying a bug under a microscope. His eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned against the bed. “Lucas!” Erin was on her knees in the middle of the bed, her small hands on either side of Lucas's head. “Lucas,” she whispered, her voice small and afraid. “What's wrong?” A small laugh puffed from his mouth. “Nothing. I'm just tired, is all.” He opened his eyes and pinned Annabelle. “You do know, don't you, lack of faith is fatal?” His words, though they made little sense, sent a shaft of guilt spearing through her heart. He gasped a deep breath and sat heavily in the chair by Erin's bed. “Oh, Bridget, I'm tired.” Lucas leaned back, his long frame draped on the chair like a piece of clothing. His breathing evened and Annabelle thought he must be asleep. She eased off the bed and toward the door. “No! You heard him.” Erin still knelt in the middle of the bed. “Honey, please be reasonable,” Annabelle whispered, not anxious to lose this chance to have this rat snagged once and for all. “He's not supposed to be up here.” “He's hurt, Annabelle.” “I don't see any wounds on him. You're the one in the hospital.” Erin glared. “That's only because everyone thinks I'm crazy.” Well, aren't you?Annabelle wanted to scream at her. Not only was she ignoring the obvious—Lucas only wanted to keep her quiet about his unreliability—but now she was trying to protect him.

“I'm going to get the guards.” Annabelle got off the bed, determined to do the right thing, no matter if Erin hated her for the rest of her life. But she didn't get to the door. Lucas bolted upright in the chair, his eyes wide. “Saints in Heaven! Not him!” Erin grabbed his hand as he stood up. “Don't leave me again, Lucas. If you'll just tell them what happened, they'll let me out.” Lucas knelt by the bed and took Erin's hands between his own. “I promise you, Erin, my love, I'll be back. But I need to regain my strength. If he tracks me here, he'll find you.” He turned and once more he fixed Annabelle with a stare. “You have to help us, Annabelle.” “No way, José.” Annabelle crossed her arms and returned Lucas's stare full measure. He rose and came to her, towering over her. “Listen to me, now,” he whispered harshly, his exotic accent becoming more pronounced with his heavy breaths. “He's coming for me.” Was he as nutty as Erin was? Maybe there was something in the water. Maybe they'd participated in a psych experiment gone awry. “Who's coming for you?” Annabelle asked, her anger melting into concern. “My brother. And if they senthim , they'll be wantin’ Erin, too.” “For what?” Lucas closed his eyes tight, as though warding off some horror. Annabelle felt her own skin pucker with goose flesh at the dread marring his face. “For lovin’ me.” “What in the world?” “I don't have time to explain, Annabelle. But my kind aren't supposed to mingle with your kind.” He rested his forearm on the rolling table at the foot of the bed. “It's my fault, I own, but I couldn't help myself. I love her. I don't want anything to happen to her. Please, help us.” His eyes, already bright before, burned now. She didn't know why, but she believed he believed. And whatever he believed frightened him enough to spill over onto her, too. “What do you want me to do?” she asked. ~*~

The trail was clear until Gaelen arrived back in Chapel Hill, then it faded as he neared an older, well-established neighborhood on the east side of town. Gaelen knew the area well. Several of his colleagues lived here in the comfortable seventies-style homes nestled among towering pines. He followed the last remnants of the trail into the neighborhood, back to the last street in the development. The trail disappeared as it led him around to the back of sprawling, one-story house sitting on a lawn manicured to the consistency of a putting green. Gaelen unsquooshed by an open window at the back of the house. “Ach, Lucas,” he whispered, recognizing in his marrow the traces of his brother's blood on the windowsill. Raising his leg over the sill, Gaelen climbed in. He stood quietly, letting his eyes adjust to the dark and listening for the sound of another person. A gentle snore echoed through the hallway. He followed the sound to a bedroom at the back corner of the house and peeked around the door. A woman lay alone in a king-sized bed, one slender arm resting across her forehead. Her mouth hung slightly open, a soft growl marking each breath. Gaelen approached the bed, wondering if this was Lucas's human girl. Snort, snuffle. Gaelen froze by the bed, his own breath suspended until the woman once again breathed rhythmically. There was enough trouble without letting himself be seen. Kneeling by the bed, Gaelen leaned close to the woman's face. This close, he could see she was a mature woman, probably nearly fifty human years. A wry smile twisted his mouth. Lucas's tastes tended toward the more tender, younger women, but this one was very attractive for her age. Some familiarity in her face made him study her more closely. He knew he'd seen her before, but couldn't place her. Her auburn hair spread out on the pillow underneath her head, creating a halo of warm color glowing in the dim light. A smile flitted across her mouth, softening her gentle features even more. Gaelen reached into the woman's mind with his own and, finding trust there, gently probed for her name. “Ah, Susan. What a lovely name. I am Gaelen.” “Hello, Gaelen,” the woman said, her voice rough with sleep, her eyes still closed. “Susan, do you know Lucas?” “Yes.” “When was the last time you saw him?” “Two days ago.” She scratched her nose. Gaelen leaned back into the shadows, in case she woke

suddenly. “He picked Erin up, and they went out.” A frown creased her forehead. Erin. He remembered Eochy mentioning that was the girl's name. Lucas's human girl. If he could find her, Lucas wouldn't be far away. “Where is Erin, Susan?” he asked. A sniff signaled her answer. “He hurt her.” “No, Susan. Lucas wouldn't hurt Erin.” His certainty surprised him. Susan shook her sleeping head. “I didn't think so, either.” Another smile flitted across her mouth. “They are so lovely together.” The smile disappeared, a bitter frown taking its place. “He hurt my little girl.” Erin's mother, he realized. “Why did he hurt my daughter, Gaelen?” “I don't know, Susan. But I do know he never meant to hurt her.” The degree of trust Susan showed gave him the heart to ask her, “Can you help me find Lucas? He's in trouble. If I don't find him soon, he may be hurt before he can tell Erin he's sorry.” Susan shook her head. “No. I don't know where he is. Erin has been waiting for him since the aliens took him away.” Gaelen stifled a chuckle. Such a tale would go a long way to keeping this whole disaster quiet.Sensible people would laugh off any story smacking of things that couldn't be explained. In the privacy of her own conscious mind, Susan probably didn't think she believed it. “Did Erin see where the aliens took Lucas?” “No. They disappeared in a flash of light.” “Where is Erin?” Susan sniffled again. “The hospital.” A single tear slid from the corner of her eye. Sensing her starting to waken, Gaelen withdrew from her mind, careful to place the suggestion that she'd had a lovely dream of a conversation with an incredibly handsome man about ... he paused, trying to get just the right thing to leave with her. Ah,he thought,perfect. “Fireflies, Susan. The little point of light is a firefly flickering around in the dark.” She smiled. “I love fireflies.” “Yes, my sweet, I know you do.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back tenderly. “Goodbye, Susan.” “Goodbye, Gaelen.”

Gaelen stood by the window and squooshed. Next stop, the hospital. CHAPTER FIVE

Annabelle sat at Erin's bedside, her sister finally asleep. Lucas's visit had calmed Erin more than all the Prozac in the joint. Now that he was gone, though, Annabelle didn't know if she'd made the right decision. Helping Lucas was the same as enabling Erin in her codependence. With a long sigh, Annabelle rose from the chair and went to the window. The hospital was on the southern edge of the university campus, but where Columbia Street had once been a wide boulevard lined with important-looking brick buildings, housing the pharmacy and public health schools on one side and the hospital and medical library on the other, it was now overbuilt as the hospital complex had spread. Even so, Erin loved it here, even hoping to work in the UNC hospital itself when she graduated next spring. Daddy would be happy, Annabelle thought. Vern was a Tarheel born and bred, and had stayed on at the university as an administrator in the athletics department after his own graduation some thirty years ago. “Uncle Jumbo” they had called him, for his size and his appetite—both prodigious—and his memory, which never forgot a name or a face. He was as tender as he was large, though. Never did one of Jumbo Tinker's athletes spend a holiday in their dorm room if they couldn't get home. The Tinker home was open. He played Santa Claus for children in the hospital, often buying the gifts himself. And people weren't the only recipients of Daddy's generosity. Annabelle thought of the dishes of milk he always left out."For the fairies," he'd said, but she'd known it was for the stray cats in the neighborhood. Annabelle turned from the window, arms wrapped around herself. Even a year after his death, she missed him so much, his droopy brown eyes, his ever-present smile, and his childlike wonder with everything. “Ummm.” Erin's muttered moan and smile as she twisted in her narrow bed caught Annabelle's attention. “Lucas,” she said, her eyes popping open. “Where is he?” “He left.” Annabelle sat down in the chair beside the bed. “He's waiting in my car, and I'm going to take him to the house when Mom comes back to stay with you.” “Oh. That's right.” Erin glanced around. “I'm still in the hospital.” She flicked her eyes to Annabelle. “I dreamed I was at home. Well, inmy home ... with Lucas. And two of the most adorable children you've ever seen.” “Erin,” Annabelle moaned, “don't—”

“What's wrong with you? You used to be happy and laugh and have fun and...” Erin stared, making Annabelle uncomfortable. “You used to dream. I remember once,” she smiled, “you saw a tiny man in the tool shed.” “That was a just dream.” “Oh, I don't think so. You talked about him for years.” Annabelle hadn't thought of that dream for what seemed like centuries. She'd been barely twelve and had just readPeter Pan to Erin. Again. Annabelle had just entered that hormone-driven romantic time, and she often imagined herself as Wendy. In her own private version, of course, Peter stayed with Wendy/Annabelle in London, and they grew up and got married and had many children and lived happily ever after. She'd cried when Tinkerbell drank the poison and clapped louder than Erin had to save the fairy's life. Then one night she'd been sitting by her window, gazing into the spring night. Annabelle smiled at the memory. “He wasn't tiny. As a matter of fact, he was taller than Daddy.” “Was he handsome?” Erin asked. “Very,” Annabelle said, warming to her topic, “with wheat-blond hair and eyes the color of the sky. And,” she went on, telling Erin what she'd never told another soul, “he had these wonderful big wings that looked like gossamer and twinkled with blue and green light.” “Wings?” Erin whispered the word, then her brow furrowed. “You mean...?” Suddenly, her brow smoothed and she sat up toward Annabelle, her face full of mischief. “You mean, your dream man was a ... a...fairy?” The word was so unexpected, and meant so many other things now, it caught Annabelle off-guard, though she'd often thought the same thing. Tonight, after the stress of hearing of her sister's tragedy and being drawn into God alone knew what, the idea hit her funny bone, pushing aside all worry, fear, and tension, and dragging her spirits out of the tank. She laughed. And laughed. And laughed, until tears fell from her eyes, and she had to hold her sides to keep the stitch in her side from bending her double. “Oh, Erin!” She dragged in a breath. “Afairy? ” She sputtered another chortle. “Oh, I hope not! That would besuch a waste!” “Ahhh!” Erin's scream of hilarity was muffled as she dove face first into her pillow. A knock at the door signaled a visitor, giving Annabelle and Erin time to stifle their howls to mere snorts. Annabelle hoped they hadn't been heard. She didn't want to end up sharing a room with Erin permanently. She covered her mouth with her hand to mute her giggle at that idea. “Excuse me, is this Miss Tinker's room?” Oh, my, what a sexy voice, Annabelle thought. It was also familiar, honeyed with a hint of an accent.

She turned to see if the figure matched the voice. “Yes,” Erin said, sniffing in a giggle, “I'm Erin Tinker.” “Miss Tinker, I'm so glad to meet you at last.” A man came into the room, dressed as one might expect a university professor to be, right down to the elbow patches of the tweed jacket he wore over his cream turtleneck sweater. Annabelle smiled and half-expected him to whip a pipe out of his pocket. “I'm Gaelen Riley, Lucas's older brother.” Erin's face shone with sudden delight. “Gaelen!” She reached out toward him. “Lucas has told me so much about you.” Gaelen Riley stood by the bed. As he bent to take Erin's hand in both his own, very large hands, the warm light burnished his wheat-gold hair. Funny, Annabelle had never though blond men appealing before. “And he told me of you.” Dr. Riley smiled. “If I'd known he wasn't exaggerating about your beauty, I'd have made it my business to meet you sooner.” Blushing prettily, Erin turned to draw Annabelle into the conversation. “This is my sister, Annabelle.” He started to turn toward her, then froze for an instant before completing the motion. “Annabelle?” he said, even as his sky blue eyes twinkled. Annabelle started working up a fine head of steam. Imagine a grown man thinking her name was funny. Then she suddenly realized his eyes as he studied her were filled, not with humor, but confusion, then ... speculation? And, fear? No, that was ridiculous. Their gazes locked and a bolt of recognition struck Annabelle right in her heart.I know him , she thought. Yet she knew she'd never met the man before. She tried to put off the familiarity to the fact that she'd heard his voice the day before on Lucas's answering machine. Even as she formed the thought, she dismissed it. She knew him from somewhere else. But where? Dr. Riley seemed to be having the same reaction. In the deepening silence, his eyes mapped her face, seeking. He tipped his head and squinted. Then his eyes moved down and her body warmed under his examination. Erin cleared her throat, reminding them they were not alone. ~*~

Gaelen recovered first. “A delight, Miss Tinker,” he said, breaking his gaze from hers reluctantly. It couldn't be, he thought, shaking the eeriness of recognition from his head.It couldn't be the same girl. But she did have the same warm brown eyes, the same long, chocolate brown hair hanging softly over

her shoulders. However, everything else had changed. No longer was she long-legged in the gangly way of a filly. No, sir, there were curves and... He snapped himself out of his stupor. “I'm sorry, Miss Tinker. I don't mean to stare, but...” He struggled for words. “I have the overwhelming feeling we've met before. Were you a student at the university?” “No,” she said, her voice weak, as though she, too, were affected by their meeting. “I went to St. Mary's in Raleigh.” “An excellent school.” “But I grew up in Chapel Hill. Our father was an assistant athletic director at the university.” Realization dawned. Of course, that's where he must have seen her, at some university gathering. “Jumbo Tinker?” At her nod, he forced a sad smile. “Let me offer my condolences. He was a fine man and I was pleased to know him.” “Thank you,” she whispered. Thank Bridget. Being Jumbo Tinker's daughter explained a great many things, not only her familiarity, but also the feyness he'd sensed about her. In the few seconds of their silent communion, she'd scared the hell out of him. In self-defense, Gaelen turned back to Erin, relieved the mystery of Annabelle Tinker had been explained. “I had expected to run into Lucas. Has he been here?” Erin's wide eyes darted to her sister. Her mouth worked as though she was trying out different answers. Gaelen followed her pleading glance at Annabelle. He watched the colors radiating from her. Her aura glowed cool blue, fading and recharging as a copper-red. He hid his smile. She was about to lie. “He was here, but he had to leave,” Annabelle's hurried explanation cut Erin off. She knows where he is, but she doesn't want to tell me. Why? “Did I just miss him, then?” He turned back to Erin. “Too bad, for I haven't seen Lucas for awhile. The reports of yourexperience have me somewhat uneasy about him.” He weighed his words. “Erin, is Lucas all right?” “Of course,” Erin said, her voice a little too loud. “Why wouldn't he be?” “Well,” Gaelen said with a little chuckle, “the story is all over town that hedisappeared . Poof.” All humor vanished from his voice. “Did he truly leave you out by the lake alone?” “Yes, but ... well, he...” “What Erin is trying to say, Dr. Riley,” Annabelle broke in, “is she and Lucas had a little tiff, and yes, in his anger, Lucas did leave her for a time, but it was a misunderstanding only. Right, Erin?”

She gave Erin such an exaggerated, wide-eyedyou'd-better-go-along-with-me look Gaelen almost laughed out loud. “Oh! Oh, yes.” Erin nodded furiously. “Right.” “Then how did you end up in the psychiatric ward of University Hospital?” Gaelen asked, thinking he'd painted the two ladies into a corner. Erin gulped and looked to Annabelle for help. Gaelen followed her gaze. Annabelle's eyes sparkled and she put on a smile. Silver had replaced copper-red, creativity replacing deceit. Oh, this one is quick. He waited in delicious anticipation of what she'd come up with. He wasn't disappointed. “Erin is rather spoiled, you see.” Annabelle raised a warning eyebrow to Erin who was about to protest this slander. “When Lucas wouldn't agree to marry her immediately, she pushed him out of the car and locked the doors and refused to let him back in. Lucas went to get help to open the car. Erin worked herself up to such a state that her screams and crying brought the police. When they couldn't get anything out of her, they brought her here.” Out of the corner of his eye, Gaelen saw Erin's eyebrows shoot together in silent, impotent rage. It was such a bravura performance Gaelen had trouble playing along. But Annabelle wasn't finished. “She'll throw a tantrum over nothing, and this time poor Lucas was on the receiving end.” Gaelen glanced at the furious Erin. “She looks fairly calm now,” he offered. “Does she?” Annabelle smiled at her sister. “Wait until they bring her dinner. I've seen her throw her supper at the wall rather than eat something she doesn't like.” “Miss Tinker, I fear you do Erin an injustice. She certainly doesn't give the impression of a spoiled brat.” “Thank you, Gaelen,” Erin said. “Isn't what I've said true, Erin?” Annabelle asked, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Maybe the truth isn't so bad as I'd thought. What is it? Did you just have a nightmare in a drunken stupor?” “No!” “Drug-induced hallucinations?” Annabelle's warm husky voice carried just the right touch of horror. “No!” “Well, what?” Erin's mouth opened, then snapped shut. Gaelen knew she was testing and discarding answers, and he could tell exactly when she decided Annabelle's story was the most innocent one they could come up

with on the spur of the moment to even begin to explain the situation. “I'm so embarrassed,” Erin said. “I acted like a fool, and now I'm stuck here like a nut case.” “So, you don't know where he is?” “Uh-umm.” Annabelle shook her head. Erin just looked away. Gaelen's mouth twitched with the urge to smile. If he'd had time—and if Annabelle Tinker hadn't been human... “Well, then. I suppose I'll have to call his apartment and check on him. When he drops by, would you pass on that I'd like to see him? There's a minor family matter I need to discuss with him. Meantime—” He raised Erin's hand and lightly kissed the back. “I've enjoyed meeting you, Erin.” Turning to Annabelle, he waited for her to offer her hand for a courtesy shake and was unaccountably disappointed when she didn't. “I've also enjoyed meeting you, Miss Tinker. I hope we meet again.” Annabelle gave him a noncommittal tip of the head and a wan smile. Neither woman spoke as he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him. “Why didn't you tell him Lucas was waiting in your car?” Erin asked. “I don't know. I just didn't think it would be a good idea.” Erin smiled. “You do believe in Lucas, don't you?” Believe? Daddy had always said, “You've got to believe in something, Annabelle." “Annabelle, what's wrong?” Erin asked, her voice heavy with worry. “You're not going crazy, too, are you?” “You're not crazy, Erin, and neither am I,” she replied, pushing the too tall and too gorgeous Gaelen Riley out of her mind. He'd be great fodder for some nice dreams, but a man who looked like him wouldn't glance twice at a homely duck like her. She gently pushed Erin down and tucked the covers around her. “Now, you get some sleep. Since it appears aliens didn't take Lucas, we'll try to get you sprung tomorrow.” “All right, I'll try.” Erin snuggled down in the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Gaelen is very handsome, isn't he? He reminds me of your man in the tool shed, don't you think?” As she acknowledged the truth of Erin's statement, Annabelle wished she'd never shared that particular fantasy with her sister. ~*~

Gaelen wandered down the long hallway, looking for a stairwell where he could squoosh and get back on Lucas's trail. He'd been in that room, all right. Gaelen had smelled the fairy dust. A shot of apprehension nailed him. Where had it come from, though? Fairy dust was only produced by a squooshed fairy. Had Lucas been stupid enough to unsquoosh in the presence of two human women? One witness could be discounted; two would be more likely to be believed. “Well, Gaelen. How nice to see you.” Gaelen froze and sighed. Of all the... “Hello, Linette.” He turned and lowered his gaze to meet the green eyes of Linette Duncan. “I hadn't thought to run into you here. I thought you'd moved on.” “I had my residency to finish. My life can't be arranged just to avoid anold lover.” Gaelen laughed at her attempt to wound him. “What do you want, Linette? I have business to attend to.” “Yes, I know. Find him yet?” “Who?” Gaelen asked. “Don't be coy, Gaelen. Your brother, the one who left poor Miss Tinker screaming and hysterical.” Linette's eyes showed no sympathy forpoor Miss Tinker . Not that Gaelen was surprised. After all, pixies were more selfish and self-centered than fairies were. “What do you know about this? And what concern is it of yours anyway?” “The fate of the pixie realm is tied to yours. If the fairies are discovered, how long do you think we'll survive? And I enjoy my life in this world. My leadership has ordered me to keep the girl here to capture Lucas.” Gaelen looked over her head at the large lads behind her. Both wore the white of hospital orderlies, but he recognized what they were immediately. “That why you have two fairy mercenaries patrolling the hallways?” She smiled. “It takes a fairy to catch a fairy.” Her smile faded, replaced by a cold, steely stare. “Stay out of my way, Gaelen. I won't let you botch this.” “Why would I try? I want to find Lucas as much as anybody does. He's—” He bit his tongue. He'd almost told Linette the truth about Lucas's wounds. The less information she had, the better. “As far as staying out of the way, Linette, I'll give you the same warning. The Council of One Hundred has given me time to try to find Lucas and bring him and the girl to New Jersey. We'll take care of this...situation.” “The Pixie Confederacy isn't all that sure of your ability to handle thesituation , Gaelen. And since I

have my orders, yours are no concern of mine.” “I'm warning you, Linette.” “Save your warning for somebody who needs it. Boys, take him.” Before Gaelen could react, the two burly fairy mercenaries in Linette's employ grabbed Gaelen and scooped him up, one arm and one leg each. “To the roof,” Linette ordered. “Linette, there's no need for this pointless violence. You're not being objective.” She ignored him, leading the way to the stairwell and up the remaining flights of stairs to the roof of the hospital. Gaelen struggled, but the mercs were too strong for him to escape. They carried him across the helipad on top of the hospital, not stopping until they reached the edge of the roof. With a chill, he realized what she planned. “Now, Linette, you can't be serious. Come on, honey, you know our relationship was going nowhere. It was over. Can't you just be happy for—” “You are the most arrogant man!” She peeked over the edge. “Do you think I'd drop you to your death just for breaking up with me? No, dear Gaelen. My only concern is the survival of all our people.” She smiled thinly. “Over you go.” She stepped back to give the mercs room to toss him over. “Have a nice flight, laddie,” one said, his voice heavy with the accent of Cork. Gaelen had always hated fairies from Cork. Now he had a reason. “Traitors,” he muttered. “That depends on your perspective, boyo,” the merc replied. With a swing, the two brutes let Gaelen fly out into empty space. He hung, suspended, between earth and sky for just an instant. Then he felt gravity grab him. Could he do it? He'd never heard of a fairy squooshing in midair. Better make up your mind, Gaelen. The ground is getting closer all the time. With a gasp, he drew a breath and... Squa-oooosh. ~*~

Annabelle stared out the window, replaying the scene with Gaelen Riley in her mind. She couldn't shake the idea she'd met him before. He'd known Daddy, of course, but Annabelle knew if she'd been introduced to him somewhere, she'd have remembered. But his golden hair, his blue eyes, his large hands

... Where had she seen him before? Maybe next time she saw him she'd remember. As though by her command, he flashed before her eyes. Outside. Falling toward the ground. “No!” She pressed her face against the window, straining to see his downward plummet. The only thing she could make out was another firefly heading away from the building. “Oh, my God! Erin, wake up!” “What?” Erin muttered sleepily. “It's Dr. Riley! Lucas's brother. He fell off the roof.” Annabelle was already out the door and into the hallway. She ran to the elevator and had to punch at the button a couple of times because her hands were shaking. “Come on, come on.” The doors slid open and she jumped in, stabbing a finger at the button for the lobby floor. The elevator took forever. She squeezed through the doors as they cracked open and ran toward the guard's desk. “Hurry, come on. A man just fell from the roof.” She gulped a breath and continued toward the front door. “Come on!” she yelled over her shoulder. The paunchy guard left his coffee and followed her out. Annabelle tried to orient herself, finally figuring out Erin's room was on the front of the huge edifice. She gazed up, counted eleven floors and could make out the face of a young woman that she knew was Erin at a window. “Right here. He fell right over here.” Her stomach twisted in apprehension as she approached the site where she expected to find the mess that was left of the handsome Gaelen Riley. “Who fell?” The guard had his flashlight out and was walking around the boxwoods and young dogwood trees at the foundation of the building. He flashed the light out away from the building and toward the street. “There's no one here, lady.” “But I saw...” Shehad seen him, falling, arms and legs flailing, a look of supreme terror on his face. “He fell from the roof.” The guard came up to her and sniffed. “No liquor.” Annabelle bristled. “Of course not. I'm not drunk.” Annabelle tried to catch her temper and speak calmly. “Look, I was on the eleventh floor—” “Oh,” the guard nodded, “the eleventh floor. I see.” He took her elbow and gently led her back to the front of the hospital. “Come with me, and I'll see you get back to the eleventh floor.” “No! I'm not crazy.” Annabelle jerked her arm away from his grip and ran toward the street. “I'm telling you, there's a dead man out here somewhere.” She glanced around. “People don't take a bounce when

they hit, do they?” “I don't think so,” the guard said. “Come on, miss. Let's go in.” Allowing the guard to lead her, Annabelle turned back toward the hospital and raised her eyes to look toward the roof. She followed the line from the roof past Erin's window. Then she stopped, turning all the way around. Was she crazy? “I'm sorry,” she said to the guard. “I must have been dreaming. My sister is up there, and I was sitting with her. I guess I'm more tired than I thought.” “Sure,” the guard replied, not unkindly. “You go back to your sister's room and try to get some rest. Maybe they'll bring in a cot for you if you ask.” “Thank you, I will.” Annabelle followed the guard uneasily back into the hospital, but couldn't resist one last glance at the spot where Gaelen Riley should have splattered. ~*~

Gaelen took a perch in one of the ancient oaks lining the street while his heart slowed down. He'd never trythat again, he swore. Breathing deeply, he watched Annabelle Tinker run out of the hospital and dash into the bushes. Is she really worried about me?he wondered, a smile spreading across his face, unreasonably pleased by the prospect of Annabelle Tinker—with her warm brown eyes and long, dark hair, and those hand-filling curves—being concerned for his safety. Whoa. Put Annabelle Tinker out of your mind, Gaelen. She's human and off-limits to the likes of you. But Annabelle ... Could she be the same girl? It had been over fifteen years ago, and he hadn't seen her clearly, being somewhat preoccupied with his own situation. Still reeling from going from the arms of the incomparable Carly O'Malley—a totallyexhilarating experience, if memory served—to freezing his wings off in an ammonia sea on Jupiter, he'd forced himself back to Earth, but needed a place to rest. He'd limped to a tool shed to rest before going home to face the old man. The pre-adolescent girl who'd found him there—her warm brown eyes widening with shock at his nakedness, but sparkling at the sight of his wings—had brought him water and bandages and promised milk and cookies before a booming bass voice called her in for the night. Of course, it was the same girl. Though Jumbo Tinker had not been a close friend, Gaelen knew his house was in the same neighborhood and that he had two daughters. Gaelen frowned when the guard took her elbow and pulled her toward the front of the hospital. The wave of possessiveness washing over him was totally inappropriate. He squashed it. Annabelle jerked her arm away from the guard and with purposeful steps headed toward the street, her

face lined with worry as she looked up and down for him. At that moment, Gaelen knew how he could get to Lucas. And to Erin. And he hated himself for it. ~*~

Annabelle rode up in the elevator, purposely emptying her mind of any thoughts at all. She was tired. That's all it was. But why would she imagine Gaelen Riley flying past Erin's window? “Ms. Tinker?” Dr. Duncan's voice stirred her from her musing. “Are you all right?” “Yes, thank you. I'm fine. But I think I need some sleep. Would it be possible to have a cot moved into Erin's room?” “No, I'm afraid not. It's against the policy of this ward. In fact, I shouldn't have allowed you to stay last night. Someone should have shooed you out of here hours ago,” the doctor replied with a smile. “Would you like to have someone drive you home?” “No, thank you. I'm fine. I'll just look in on Erin.” Dr. Duncan stepped in front of her. “Erin is sleeping. I put your bag and coat at the front desk. Come, I'll walk you to the elevator.” “But—” “Please, Ms Tinker. There are rules. You aren't supposed to be here now.” “How did Dr. Riley get up here, then?” Dr. Duncan's pixie green eyes widened. “You saw him? Did Gaelen mention why he'd dropped by?” “He said he was looking for his brother. He's concerned that he hasn't seen Lucas in a few days.” “Really?” Dr. Duncan smiled. The familiarity with which Dr. Duncan spoke Gaelen's name stirred up an uneasy and unidentifiably unattractive feeling. She tried—unsuccessfully—to convince herself it was curiosity only, and that on Erin's behalf. “How well do you, ah, know him ... them? Lucas and his brother?” she asked, using Lucas as an excuse for her question. “I don't know Lucas well at all. I've only met him once or twice. I'm much better acquainted with Gaelen. We move in the same circles, you see.” Dr. Duncan stopped in front of the nurse's desk, a pensive look on her face, then she reached behind it and retrieved Annabelle's bag and windbreaker. “Oh, dear, you should be wearing a heavier coat with the raw storm blowing,” she said as she handed it

over. The beeper in the doctor's pocket cut off further conversation. “Good night, Ms. Tinker. I trust I'll see you tomorrow?” Offering a thin smile and quick handshake, Dr. Duncan left Annabelle by the nurse's station, turning and marching down the corridor, destination clearly in mind. Watching her, an uneasy twinge coursed along Annabelle's spine. The woman's reaction to Gaelen Riley seemed out-of-place, though Annabelle had absolutely no explanation for why she felt that way. Her reporter's mind filing that tidbit away to chew on later, Annabelle turned her mind to the task at hand. Lucas Riley was waiting in her car. CHAPTER SIX

Lucas jerked awake when Annabelle tapped on the window. He reached over and popped open the lock. “Didn't mean to wake you,” she said, getting in the car. “No matter,” he said, handing over her keys. “Is Erin all right? I was about to come up to check on her.” “Good thing you didn't. Your brother showed up not long after you left.” Annabelle started the whiny engine of her rented import. Lucas sat up and turned sideways in his seat, his eyes burning intensely. “Gaelen was here? What did he say?” Backing out of the parking space, Annabelle twisted around and didn't answer right away. She had trouble reconciling the urgency in Lucas's voice at the mention of his brother's name with the charming Dr. Riley who'd introduced himself in Erin's room. “He's concerned about you,” she finally answered, easing the car onto the street and heading out of town to her mother's house. Lucas puffed out a disbelieving grunt. “Concerned for himself, you mean,” he said, his voice low. Driving beyond the bright lights of the medical center, they rode in silence through the velvet black night. Though he didn't make a sound, his tension rippled through the air. Annabelle could almost hear his nerves twanging, the annoying sound of a rubber band being plucked. As her own nerves tightened, Annabelle asked, “What's with you and your brother?” “What do you mean?” Lucas didn't turn toward her as he spoke. “You seem to be worried about seeing him.” “Actually, Gaelen isn't the one I'm most worried about.”

“Who then?” A snort preceded his answer. “I can't tell you now. Maybe later, if...” “If what?” “If I can get myself out of the trouble I've got myself and Erin into here.” His head dropped back against the back of the seat. “You've got my attention, Lucas. Tell me.” When he didn't speak, she added, “You've just said my sister is in trouble. You're going to tell me what's going on. And don't give me any more nonsense about it being dangerous for me to know.” With a deep sigh, Lucas said, “When I can, I will. There're some things I need to find out first.” His eyes closed and he turned toward the window. Annabelle let him rest, deciding to pursue the issue when she had him in the house. “Here we are,” she announced, pulling the parking brake. Lucas sat up and looked around. “Do you think we can get me in without your mother seeing me?” “Let me check,” Annabelle said, opening her door and getting out. She hurried up the walk and pulled out her house key. Unlocking the door slowly, she listened for any sound showing her mother was still up and about. After finding her sleeping soundly, Annabelle went back to the front door and waved Lucas in. He passed her and headed straight for the basement stairs. “Where are you going?” she asked. “I'm going to hide out in the rec room. There's a couch down there, right?” he whispered. “Yes,” Annabelle answered, following him down the stairs. She hadn't expected him to settle in. “How long are you thinking of staying?” All she needed was for her mother to wake up and find this guy here. Annabelle wasn't in the mood for a hysterical scene right now. “Just until I can figure a way out of this.” He dropped onto the beat-up plaid sofa, stretching his long legs. A grimace twisted his face and a grunt of discomfort ground from his throat. “What's wrong, Lucas? Are you hurt?” Annabelle knelt in front of him and laid her hand on his knee. Lucas squinted at her. “Just a little. I fear I injured my ... shoulder a bit, tore something.” “Oh. Let me get you something. Some aspirin?” “No! No aspirin.” Annabelle jumped at his tone. He sounded like she'd offered him strychnine.

“No aspirin,” he repeated more quietly. “Upsets my stomach, you see. Just a teaspoon of cinnamon in a cup of hot tea, if it wouldn't be too much trouble.” His charming smile, so like his older brother's, melted some of her unease about this whole thing. “No trouble at all.” She left him stretched quietly on the sofa and went up the stairs to the kitchen. All the while she heated the water and spooned out the cinnamon into the cup and waited, she wondered how to break the news to her mother that Erin's missing lover was in the basement. “Annabelle?” her mother's sleepy voice drifted into the kitchen through the midnight silence. “Mom, you should be in bed.” “I thought I heard voices. Were you talking to yourself?” With a start, Annabelle realized her mother had heard her and Lucas. Pinning up a smile, she turned to Susan. “With all this going on with Erin, I guess I just needed to talk to someone, and I didn't want to wake you.” “What are you making there?” Mom peeked around Annabelle's shoulder. “Just some tea. Want some?” “Thanks.” Her mother stepped away and leaned on the counter. “Is that cinnamon?” She sniffed the air. “Ummm.” Annabelle sprinkled some cinnamon into the second cup she took down from cabinet. Then she poured the hot water into the cups. Handing one to her mother, she wondered how she'd get back down into the basement to get to Lucas. “When did you start drinking tea?” Mom asked, daintily raising the cup to her lips. “I thought you didn't like it,” she smiled, “unless it was iced and heavily sweetened.” Annabelle sought an explanation. “I've heard it's soothing. After tonight, I need some soothing.” “Uh-huh. Me, too.” Mom took her cup to the small trestle table in the breakfast nook and sat down, gazing out on the back lawn. “Mom, why don't you go back to bed? It's still so early. You need your sleep.” “Maybe I can finish my tea first?” she replied, her lips curving. “You know, Annabelle, I can decide for myself if I need to go to bed.” It was the first time Annabelle could remember her mother declaring her independence. She smiled. “Of course you can. I'm just worried about you.” Her mother's rueful smile faded. “Poor Annabelle. So many people to look after.” Like so many times before, Annabelle watched her mother's attention wander, her eyes lose their focus. Her hands ached to grab her mother's shoulders, shake her, bring her back. But she was powerless, and could only watch, as

her mother slipped away again. Mom sat silently, hands wrapped around her cup, sipping gently. “What do you think of what Erin said?” The question came out of nowhere. “Don't worry about her,” Annabelle said, trying to be supportive and strong. Deciding to try her fictional account out on her mother, she added, “They just had a tiff and Erin let herself get worked up about it. She probablydid look crazy to the cops when they got there.” She stared into the cup steeping on the counter, as though she could find answers there. Suddenly, her neck began to tingle as she felt a pair of eyes on her. Turning, her gaze locked with her mother's. “That's not kind, Annabelle.” Her mother's softly spoken chastisement sent a blade of shame into Annabelle's heart. “I didn't meanI thought so,” Annabelle said, by way of apology. She stood by the counter while her mother drank her tea, very slowly. “Mom,” Annabelle began, “what doyou think? Do you think Lucas abandoned her?” “I don't know. How can we ever know what another person is capable of doing?” Mom drained her tea and rose slowly from the table. “I guess, if Erin has faith in him, we have to trust her feelings. We'll just have to believe she knows him as well as she thinks she does.” Believe. Funny how many times today that word had been spoken. “Goodnight, dear. I'll see you in the morning.” Her mother stopped at the door and turned back with a smile. “Thanks for the tea.” “Goodnight, Mom.” Annabelle stood in the kitchen, listening to the soft footsteps of her mother as she went back to bed. In the silence, the gentle click as the bedroom door shut sounded loud enough to wake the dead and was plenty to snap Annabelle out of her stupor. Taking the cup of tea, she opened the door to the basement stairs and carefully descended. A soft rattle echoed through the basement rec room. Lucas was sprawled across the sofa, his long legs dangling off the edge, his left arm crooked over his eyes. His mouth was slightly open and he snored. “I suppose you don't want the tea?” Annabelle asked in a whisper. Lucas snored his answer. He looked so young, so innocent, she couldn't find it in her heart to wake him or hassle him about his mysterious comments hinting at danger for Erin because of their relationship. She puffed a huff of dismissal.

“It's the twenty-first century, for heaven's sake. People don't get arrested or beat up because of who they love,” she whispered, as she set the tea on the table and pulled a spread from the back of the sofa and laid it over Lucas, tucking it in at his shoulders. Explanations would have to wait until morning. ~*~

Mom took the morning shift with Erin. After meeting her for lunch at the Carolina Inn, Annabelle arrived at the hospital just after one, worn out from a lack of sleep and freshly irritated by Lucas's unwillingness to explain. The last thing Annabelle wanted to see when she arrived at Erin's hospital room was his big brother with his perfect rear perched on the edge of Erin's bed, and both of them apparently enjoying a wonderful visit. “What happened then?” Erin asked, between giggles. “Dad took Lucas into the yard and filled a pipe and made him smoke the whole thing. Turned green as a frog, he did, and puked his guts empty right there.” “Oh, no,” Erin covered her mouth with her hand. “Was he all right? Oh, how stupid. Of course he was.” She giggled again. “I suppose he never touched your father's pipe again?” “Never,” Gaelen winked at her broadly, “unless I kept watch for him.” Erin's good spirits raised Annabelle's own. Yet the presence of Gaelen Riley quickened an uneasiness, a strange tension that tightened her joints and twisted her stomach into twitchy knots. Under other circumstances, she might have thought the feeling pleasant, exciting. “Dr. Riley,” she said, breaking up story time. “You're here early.” He squinted at her. “No need for formality, Miss Tinker. The ‘doctor’ is purely an academic title. ‘Gaelen’ will do fine.” “Gaelen came by hoping to run into Lucas, Annabelle,” Erin offered, “but unfortunately, Lucas seems to have abandoned me again. We don't have any idea where he is, do we?” Since Lucas was gone by the time she got up this morning, Annabelle could answer honestly. “None at all.” “What a pity. I'm sure you'll relay my message when you do see him. But I am glad of seeing you again.” Gaelen smiled. “Are you?” Annabelle said, just as the door opened behind her with a scrape. “Well, well. Hello, Gaelen.” Dr. Duncan raised the metal cover from a hospital chart and started reading. When she spoke it was to Gaelen. “I hadn't thought to see you here again.” With a devilish grin, Gaelen replied, “Linette, my little songbird, how could I stay away from a gentle creature like yourself?”

Annabelle felt her forehead wrinkle. The wordplay was that of people who knew each other well. Extremely well. The diminutive Dr. Duncan hardly seemed like Gaelen's type, though Annabelle realized she didn't know what his type was.Nor did she care, she reminded herself quickly. “You'll have to leave now, Gaelen. Miss Tinker.” Dr. Duncan, in her coolly efficient way, laid the chart on the foot of Erin's bed and took them by an elbow each, herding them toward the door. “Examination time, you know.” Erin's startled expression made Annabelle open her mouth to object, but she was out the door before she could voice a word. “Pushy little pixie,” Gaelen whispered under his breath. “Excuse me?” “The doctor. Linette. She's a pushy, opinionated—” “She's the doctor, Dr. Riley. She's got the right to be authoritative if she feels she has to be.” Surprised as she was to be defending the overbearing little doctor, Annabelle felt an unfamiliar impulse to lock horns with him. “You don't have a problem with that, do you?” “What? With a pushy—” “You already said she was pushy.” “And so she is. And loud-mouthed and irritable and...” She could see him editing his comments. “Go ahead. Say it.” Annabelle let her temper rise, masking the other things swimming in her feelings tank. “Say what?” “Say the word. Don't look at me like that. You know perfectly well what word. The one men always use when they run into a woman they can't run over.” She dared him silently. “Bitch.” “Iknew it,” she crowed. “You're intimidated by that tiny, pretty woman just because she won't let you charm her to get your way.” “You told me to say it. And do you deny some womenare bitches?” “Dr. Duncan—” “Dr. Duncan's picture is beside the entry for the word in theOxford English Dictionary .” Annabelle couldn't keep the smile from her lips. “So, those lipscan smile. I was beginning to wonder.”

“Leave my lips—” “Can't even consider it. Such lips have inspired verse, songs, mur-r-r-r-der.” The last word was spoken with an exaggerated accent, comical, yet sexy, all at the same time. “My lips are none of your concern, Dr. Riley.” She wanted to clear her throat, her voice sounded so scratchy. “A situation I would like very much to change.” Annabelle stared at him. What did that mean? Was he really coming on to her? As if to give her no doubt such was indeed his intention, Gaelen leaned closer and stood in front of her, bracing himself against the wall with one long arm over her shoulder. “Excuse me, Dr. Riley. I'm not interested,” she said, ducking under his arm and starting toward the elevator. “Not interested?” Annabelle couldn't resist turning to see the expression accompanying his words. Gaelen stood as though frozen, his brow deeply furrowed. “Not interested?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. She barely suppressed the giggle threatening to ruin her serious façade. “You think all you have to do is grin and wink and tell charming stories and any woman will fall for you? Hah!” Annabelle turned to continue to the elevator. “Miss Tinker, wait.” Gaelen's footsteps echoed behind her, making her stomp louder to drown them out. When he started to run to catch up, she felt a wave of apprehension. “Wait, now.” He got in front of her and blocked her way, stopping her. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, Miss Tinker. I'd like very much to try to make it up to you. If you're not busy, would you go to dinner with me tonight?” He grinned, blue eyes twinkling. “Let me try to prove I'm not a monster.” “Why are you asking me out?” “Why?” He appeared confused. “Because I want to.” “I really don't know you at all.” “That's something I'd like to fix,” he said. Why did she blush? It wasn't like he was serious. “Come, now,” he chided. “It's a very simple question. Will you come with me? Just a simple dinner at

The Tea Room?” The Tea Room was Chapel Hill's priciest eatery, the one place everyone in town had to go at least once in their lives. Even though she'd been born and raised in Chapel Hill, Annabelle had only passed by The Tea Room when shopping on Franklin Street, promising herself she'd have a grand dinner there someday. Now, here was Gaelen Riley tossing the suggestion like he was offering her McDonald's. And she really wanted to say yes. She'd have wanted to say yes even if the invitationhad been McDonald's. “Well? Are you going to make my day, or leave me in loneliness and depression?” Unbidden, a smile came to her lips as she looked into his eyes. “Yes?” he asked with a tip of his head, tossing forward a lock of his wheat-gold hair. Only for a moment did Annabelle think about using her mother as an excuse. “Wait. Don't decide now, when you're irritated with me.” He pulled a business card and a pen from his breast pocket. Scribbling on the back of the card, he said, glancing away from the card to her face, “Here's my cell phone number. If I don't hear from you by six, I'll assume you've decided to give me another chance. I'll pick you up at your mother's house at seven.” Annabelle stared at the card for a moment before reaching for it. Her fingers closed around the very edge. She couldn't believe he made her afraid to let their fingertips touch. Then she made the mistake of glancing up. Gaelen held her eyes and the card tight for just a second. Releasing it with a promising smile, he turned and strolled toward the stairwell. She watched him go, watched the eyes of all the women in the hall follow him. “Ms. Tinker?” Dr. Duncan came up behind her in the silent shoes all the staff wore around the hospital. “You may return to your sister's room now. We're finished.” “Thank you,” Annabelle answered, fingering the card in her hand. The name was plain on it in bold black letters on the creamy stock. The doctor's eyes were fixed on the card, on Gaelen Riley's telephone number. Annabelle slipped the card into her slacks pocket. Dr. Duncan smiled shyly, caught peeking. “Please be careful what you say to Erin. I think we've made some progress today,” she said and turned without waiting for a response, heading down the corridor toward her next patient. Annabelle glanced at the tiny woman's purposeful progress as she pushed open the door to Erin's room. “So, what did the Wicked Witch say about me this time?” Erin asked, her lips pursed in a pout. “That you're certifiably nuts, and we should donate your brain to science since you're not using it.” “Be serious, Annabelle.” “I am serious. She'll be back in fifteen minutes to perform the procedure. You should get your affairs in

order. Can I have your Barbie dolls?” Erin's pout rearranged itself into a sweet smile and a laugh. “You always could do that to me.” She sat up. “So, what did the totally dreamy Dr. Riley want to see you about?” “What are you talking about? When I came in, he was sitting on the edge of your bed telling you Lucas stories.” “He was only waiting for you to show up. He came up here to talk to you.” Erin's eyes sparkled. “I think he likes you.” “He asked me to dinner.” “Really? Well, see?” “Please, Erin. Think about it. His invitation has nothing at all to do with me. He just wants to find Lucas and he thinks I can help him. He'll probably quiz me over the appetizer.” She frowned. “Erin, does it seem funny to you that he's apparently not able to find his own brother? Has Lucas said anything to you about problems they're having?” Erin shook her head. “No. All I've heard from Lucas about his brother is very complimentary. I think Lucas has a bad case of hero-worship for Gaelen.” “Then why would he be afraid of Gaelen finding him? There's more here than brotherly love.” “I don't have any idea. But maybe you can find out on your date.” Erin smiled slyly. “So, when is your date?” “I didn't say I said yes.” Erin flashed a look of disgust. “You're telling me a man who looks like Gaelen Riley asks you to dinner and you're hesitating even a second? Where is he taking you? Provided you get smart and accept, of course.” “The Tea Room.” “You're kidding. Youare going?” Perhaps a little investigation of her own was called for. There was more to this whole situation than met the eye and it was time to put her skills to the test. “Sure I am.” CHAPTER SEVEN

Gaelen stood at the front door of the Tinker residence at seven sharp as promised, looking like an ad out ofGQ , a fresh bouquet of daisies in his hand. Peeking from behind the living room curtain, Annabelle went all gooey. How had he known daisies were her favorite?

She let the lacy curtain drop and took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. And she chastised herself for getting all excited aboutthis date. It was the same chastisement she'd flung at herself as she took great pains getting ready, even borrowing the sleeveless black cocktail dress with the scooping neckline from her mother's closet. She hoped it would be dressy enough. Opening the door slowly enough to not look anxious, but quickly enough to be polite, Annabelle pasted a smile over her nervous jitters. “Dr. Riley, right on time.” “I try to never keep a lady waiting.” His eyes traveled down her body, then back up. His examination, though not leering, left her tingling in its wake. “You are lovely.” She stared for a moment, struck dumb by the simple compliment. “Thank you,” she whispered, then rousing some of her backbone, she added with a grin, “you're lovely, too.” He chuckled, the rich, deep sound sending a ripple down her spine. Then she realized she'd left him standing on the front porch. “Oh, I'm sorry. Please, come in.” She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. As he passed by, a warm, grassy scent followed him. Annabelle found herself breathing deeper to draw it in. “I'll just get my wrap and bag.” “Is your mother here? Should I tell her I'll have you home by midnight and no hanky-panky?” “I don't think that will be necessary. I'm almost thirty years old. Plenty old enough to take care of myself.” “As old as that?” He chuckled again and seemed to be enjoying a private joke. She ignored the sense she was missing out on something very funny and got her things. “Okay, I'm ready.” With a wave, he motioned her ahead of him out the door, then waited as she locked up. His warm fingers cupped her elbow, not guiding or directing her movements, not helping her descend the three shallow steps off the porch, but somehow so, well, courtly. They didn't speak as he accompanied her down the walk to his car, which she hadn't noticed. Boy, did she notice it now. “Oh, my,” she whispered. “An Astin Martin, just like James Bond used to drive.” His reply was a satisfied smile as he opened the door. She folded herself into the low-riding car. The leather covering the dash and the seats shone. The chrome gleamed. Why it should be so, she didn't know, but she felt a twinge of jealousy at the tender care he lavished on the machine. Gaelen got in and started the engine. It caught on the first try and purred like a well-fed jungle cat. Again he smiled, obviously pleased she appreciated his baby.

They drove in silence, but Annabelle didn't feel uncomfortable. That in itself struck her as odd. She didn't date much, and certainly none of the men she'd gone out with were in Gaelen Riley's class. “You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “I was a little afraid you'd call and tell me not to come tonight.” The honest uncertainty in his voice surprised her. She wasn't sure how to respond. He relieved her of the responsibility with a grin. “Should I confess now or after dessert that I've had my cell phone turned off all afternoon?” She laughed. “I refuse to believe you were nervous about this.” He cast her a glance. “I've been very nervous. And I'm very glad you are here with me now.” Annabelle gazed at him, a silly glow warming her. She'd just met the man. She had reason to distrust his motives, yet here she was drinking in his deep, sexy voice and the words that were balm for an ego too often bruised. Obviously he was what her mother called a real ladies's man. He knew what to say and how to say it to get what he wanted. Annabelle wasn't fool enough to think herself the object of fascination he wanted to make her think she was. Her head spun with all the convolutions of the situation. Couldn't she just enjoy the evening? He pulled up in front of The Tea Room, parking in a spot right at the front door. Was the man charmed or something? There werenever open parking spaces on Franklin Street. She watched him drop coins into the parking meter and then come to open her door. “Here we are,mademoiselle .” Offering his hand, he helped her out of the low-slung car and, she was certain, saved her dignity in the process. Annabelle tried to pull her hand from his, but he held her, looping their arms and smoothing her fingers over his forearm. “Dr. Riley, how are you tonight?” themaître d' asked, reaching for two menus from under the desk. “Your usual table?” Gaelen pressed his lips together and glared, just for an instant at the man. “No, Ivan. I think we'd prefer something a little more secluded.” Ivan flicked a glance over Annabelle and winked—winked—at Gaelen. “Of course,” he said in a perfectly smarmy, New York-waiter way. “This way, please?” Annabelle wondered at Gaelen's reaction to Ivan's remarks. So, he came here a lot. It was a great place, one of the few in Chapel Hill not populated by students. It wasn't surprising a professor who saw plenty of his students during the day would prefer a place he'd not be likely to run into them. She found herself looking around, trying to figure out which one was his usual table. “Your menu, miss?” Ivan plunged the menu in front of her face. “Your server will be with you momentarily.” Again Ivan winked at Gaelen and sauntered off.

“What was all that about?” she asked, studying her menu, pretending not to really care. He did her the courtesy of not trying to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. “I come here quite often.” “So, where's your usual table?” Annabelle smiled to make the question seem less important to her than it actually was. “There,” he tipped his head back, “by the front window.” There was only one table by the front window. A table for two. “Not very intimate.” “No, it isn't.” “So, do you sit there alone?” Where in the world had that question come from?she wondered. “Not usually.” The words jabbed through her heart. Luckily, they were interrupted by the waiter getting their drink orders. Annabelle had a chance to cover her reaction. And fuss with herself for being so stupid. Of course a man who looked like him, talked like him, drove a car like he had, wouldn't spend very many dinners alone. And she reminded herself—again—she was perfectly aware of his motive. He thought she could lead him to Lucas. One more thing to remember, as well. She wasn't here to spend a wonderful evening with a fascinating, gorgeous man. He must know what Lucas was so worried about.That affected her sister, so it was her business, too. “Miss Tinker?” She raised her eyes from her reverie. “Your drink?” “Oh, ah, rose.” The waiter nodded and left them alone again. Brazenly, Annabelle plowed ahead, as though the interruption and her own introspection had never happened. “Why do you sit there, then? When you're not alone, that is?” “I'm something of a show-off. I like to show off the women I'm with.”

A knife couldn't have sliced her any deeper. “Of course,” he covered quickly, “there are times when I like to keep the woman my own secret for a while.” He took her hand in his, stroking her fingers. “I'm flattered,” Annabelle lied, pulling her hand away. Darn it all, why should she be hurt he didn't flaunt her in the window for all Chapel Hill to see and envy? ~*~

Damn it all!He'd hurt her. She'd withdrawn like a snail rolling up in its shell, in spite of his clumsy attempt to cover his mistake. How was he to get what he needed from her if she clammed up on him? And what would she say if he told her he was hiding her back here in the shadows? Could she understand he was protecting her? And himself? He directed his anger at Lucas. This was what came of dallying with mortals. Lucas would sure as hell get a lecture on the dangers of not sticking with your own kind when this was all over, if for no other reason than Gaelen felt he was earning the right. He tried to be irritated at her thin skin, even as he sensed her vulnerability. No, it was more than that; it was tenderness, the pain of a bruised soul, but one still willing, in spite of all the hurts. Her brown eyes flew open, staring at him as though she could hear his thoughts. Only then did he realize he'd probed, sent his mind into hers, seeking. He withdrew, grateful for the sudden appearance of the waiter with their drinks. Still shaken, Gaelen allowed the silence to hang between them. It was actually restful to be with a woman who didn't demand to be entertained. Though he was good at entertaining his companions, he also enjoyed the rest Annabelle unwittingly offered. Did she feel it, too? Again her eyes met his, questioning. Yet she didn't open her mouth to give him an answer to his unspoken question. “Are you ready to order, Dr. Riley?” The waiter hovered. “Miss Tinker? What will you have?” Gaelen asked. She jumped, as though not expecting the question. “I'm sorry. I haven't made up my mind.” “May I suggest the beef Stroganoff?” She nodded with a thin smile.

“Make that two,” he told the waiter. “Two Stroganoff. Thank you.” The waiter took their menus, the shields they'd used to maintain their distance. Gaelen felt exposed and covered his sudden uncertainty by picking up his vodka martini. Conversation was definitely called for. “I was just thinking,” he started, then stopped. What he'd started to say was how nice it was to just be with her. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? This is a mortal woman, Gaelen. You can't allow her to get to you. Look at the mess Lucas has gotten himself into. “What?” she asked when his silence became conspicuous. “What were you thinking?” The willing soul was back. She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table before her. Did she notice how her breasts molded against her arms? “Oh, nothing. I think I've been working too hard.” He sipped his drink to give himself a reason for pausing. Better get to business. He didn't think he could do this again. She was way too much for him. “Actually, I was thinking of Lucas, where he is. Why he hasn't returned my calls.” ~*~

Since she had been prepared for it, his raising of Lucas in the conversation didn't throw her. But the tone of his voice, the worry, touched her. Did he know how much he loved his brother? She could hear it clearly enough. So, why was Lucas so afraid of Gaelen? Why was he desperate that Gaelen not find him? Annabelle put on her reporter's hat. How could she get him to talk about his relationship with his younger brother? “Why wouldn't he return your calls?” she asked. He looked at her as though she'd grown wings. “Didn't I just say I didn't know why?” His tone was decidedly edgy. Should she proceed? Why not? “Well,” she offered, leaning forward, selecting her words carefully, “if he's avoiding you, there has to be a reason. From what Erin tells me, you and Lucas are close.” “Why would she say that?”

“Aren't you?” “Well, not close like you and Erin are.” He rolled his drink glass between his large hands. His large, strong hands. “We talk, but we've taken vastly different roads.” “Does that matter? You're still family.” “I don't think men are as family-oriented as women.” He drained his drink and slammed the glass on the table. “Let's stop talking about me. I'm a very boring subject, I assure you.” “I doubt that,” she said, not knowing where the words had come from. The waiter delivered their Stroganoff and lightly steamed broccoli. “Ah, good. I'm starved,” Gaelen said, greeting the waiter's arrival. Annabelle wasn't sure it was the food he greeted, so much as a chance to change the subject. She watched him dig in with typical masculine gusto for good food. He even seemed to enjoy the broccoli. She took a forkful of the Stroganoff that was the restaurant's specialty. “Ummm!” “Good, huh? I was right?” His fork hovered over his plate as he waited for her reply. “To die for.” His smile returned in full force, making her tummy jump. “Told you so.” They gabbed for a bit about harmless stuff: hobbies, movies, books. Gaelen waved over the waiter for refills for their drinks, and another plate of Stroganoff for himself. Annabelle refused—she was still working on her first—but enjoyed watching him enjoy. It was so ... restful. Annabelle hadn't been so comfortable with someone in a long time. Maybe never. “What do you do?” he asked around a forkful of his second plate of Stroganoff. So much for being comfortable. The noodles coated in savory sauce may as well have turned to shredded newspaper soaked in mud. Annabelle was disappointed in herself to be suddenly hesitant to reveal her line of work to a man who held an advanced degree in Classical Literature. She wasn't ashamed of her job. Exactly. It just suddenly seemed so unimportant, so stupid. “So, what do you do?” he asked again. Why bother hiding it?she wondered.I'll never see him again once Erin is better and I can go back to New York. “I'm a journalist.” Leaning slightly forward, with an expectant expression, he clearly wanted more.

“I write forThe Weekly Investigator .” His reaction wasn't exactly what she'd expected. For the space of an instant, he stared, his mouth hanging open. Then a flicker of sublime amusement crossed his handsome face. Followed by a hoot of unrestrained laughter. “Oh, Bridget!” he snorted, rocking in his chair and slapping his leg. Heads turned in the fancy establishment, causing a tide of heat to rise in Annabelle's face. Not only embarrassed at the attention he was drawing to them, but furious that he'd laugh at her, she tossed her napkin on the table and stood up with as much dignity as she could manage. He grabbed her hand, holding her beside the table. “No, please. Don't leave,” he wheezed between snorts. “Don't leave? Why on earth would I stay here to be laughed at?” “Oh, no, no. I'm not laughing at you, I promise,” he sputtered. He drew a deep breath and added, “Please, sit down. Please? I swear, Annabelle, I'm not laughing at you.” “Then please share with me what's so darned funny?” Shrugging his broad shoulders, he smothered another outburst. “Let's just say, you reminded me of something else.” His strong fingers held her arm in a tight grasp, so unless she wanted to make more of a spectacle of them than he'd already done, she had to sit as he asked. “Besides,” he said, “you wouldn't want to miss dessert, would you?” Just at that moment, as though conjured by his words, the waiter appeared with cheesecake and coffee. “The cheesecake here is the best in the whole world.” “You've tried them all?” she asked, skeptical. “I've tried enough to know the best when I get it.” He took a bite and asked around it, “Tell me about your job.” “What do you want to know? I make up stories for a supermarket tabloid.” His eyes flew wide. “You mean they're not true?” he asked, with perfect sincerity. In spite of her irritation with him, she had to laugh. “'Fraid not. After all, it's hard to get aliens to submit to an interview.”

“How did you get the job?” “It was a mistake. I answered an ad inThe New York Times for a newspaper journalist. I was so naïve, I figured, why wouldn'tThe New York Times advertise in their own classifieds for a reporter? I almost didn't take it when I found out, but I was fresh out of school, and I needed a job.” “But it isn't journalism?” It was a question. “No. But then it turned out journalism isn't really my thing, anyway.” “What kind of stories do you write?” “I am a specialist in paranormal phenomena, aliens, UFOs, psychics, potatoes that look like Elvis.” “All fake?” “All fake.” “Do you like it? Is it what you want to do?” Was he really interested? Should she really tell him? Annabelle shrugged and picked at her cheesecake. “It's close enough, I suppose, fiction of a kind. I really want to write children's books. The bane of being exposed too early toPeter Pan .” “Peter Pan. Let me guess. You always wanted to be Wendy?” “No, Tinkerbell. She could fly.” Gaelen narrowed his eyes and smiled, then chuckled. “Tinkerbell,” he whispered gently. “Didn't you ever want to be some fantastic creature?” He laughed, a soft soothing sound. “No, I've only ever wanted to be a mortal man.” “Even when you were a boy?” “Even then.” A chuckle escaped her. “Why don't I believe that?” An expression crossed his face, one of fear. He quickly masked it, but Annabelle was sure she'd seen it. “What don't you believe?” he asked, his voice strained. “That you only wanted to be mortal. Where's the fun in that?” She raised her fork to her mouth, noticing only as she closed her lips around the tines that he was watching her intently. The cheesecake went down like gravel. “I mean, Peter had ever so much more fun.” “There's fun to be had in living and working. In doing something you love and producing something that will show the world you were here. That you really existed.”

“Isn't it enough to exist?” she asked. “Why do you have to prove anything?” Gaelen smiled, “Maybe because....” He puffed a chuckle. “I guess it must be a man thing. Live, work, die.” He scraped at the crumbs on his plate. “Maybe it's a fear that I could disappear and no one would ever know I'd been here.” Annabelle could hear there was more to his fear than just not accomplishing anything in his life. “But, Gaelen, youare . You don't need anybody's belief to make it so.” “That is a comforting thought. I'll have to put it to the test sometime.” His words carried a heavy dose of irony. Anxious to put him at ease again, she asked about the subject obviously closest to his heart. “So what exactly does a professor of Celtic Lit do?” He looked up from his plate. “Sure you want to open up this topic? I'm just a man, dear, and very likely to go on for hours once a beautiful woman shows interest in my work.” “I'll take the chance,” she replied. A smile lit his face. “Well, I work in the language department, actually. I pour Old, Middle and Modern Irish into the sponge-like minds of my eager students.” He looked into her eyes to make sure she got his joke. “And I also teach in the Medieval Studies department.” Well, she'd gotten him started. She'd never had much interest in Ireland, but found herself caught up in his passion for the subject. “In fact,” he said, stabbing his fork in the air, “if it weren't for Ireland and her monasteries, there would have been no Renaissance. Everything would have been forgotten in the Dark Ages.” He stopped suddenly and smiled, clearly embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away.” “Don't apologize, it's fascinating.” He smirked a grin. “You're kind. There's nothing more boring than a professor spoutin’ off on his area of study. And nothing less called for during an intimate dinner with a lovely lady.” He'd done it again. He'd made her the center of discussion. Though she couldn't say she minded how he did it. Charming didn't begin to describe him. They enjoyed their dessert in a moment or two of silence before he made her reporter's instincts twitch to life again with an entirely innocent question. “I don't suppose you've heard anything of Lucas?” he asked. Annabelle chuckled. “Don't you have your brother's phone number, Dr. Riley? Why don't you just call him if you want to talk to him.” He smiled, and the effect it had on her wasn't even decent.

“Well, as I said before, Miss Tinker, my brother seems to have forgotten how to return a call.” He raised his coffee to his lips, sipping slowly. In the extending silence, Annabelle had to fight the urge to talk. It was a clever reporter's trick, one she'd used herself, and she admired the smooth way he'd done it. “Why do you keep asking me that question? I assure you, if I'd seen Lucas today, I'd have told you.” Something flickered across his eyes. Irritation? Humor? She decided on the latter when his smile returned, and he reached over to her cheesecake, digging his fork in to steal a bite. He shoved it into his mouth and ate it with a sly smile. Lasciviously licking his lips, he raised his coffee and sipped again. “I suppose you've been too busy caring for your sister to have heard the story circulating about town?” He paused for an instant, as though waiting for an answer. A deep, warm chuckle rumbled from his chest and he went on. “It seems Erin's first story was that my brother had been taken by aliens.” Annabelle laughed with him, as though it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. “Aliens? Oh, well....” To hide the fact she had nothing to say, she sat back and sipped her coffee. “So, do you believe her?” “What? That Lucas was taken by aliens? Of course not. After all, there are no aliens.” The arching of his eyebrow, the ghost of a smile, stopped her. “Are you so certain?” “Are there?” she asked in a whisper. “Don't you know?” he asked, his voice low, caressing. “Not for sure.” She wasn't sure how she knew, but she did know that her answer pleased him. ~*~

Gaelen knew now what drew him to her. She still had a sense of wonder. She stillbelieved , even if she didn't know it. He had already revealed more of himself to her than he ever had before, even to his fairy women. In spite of the unfortunate factors of her human nature and her occupation, which made her a person to be avoided, he was drawn to her like a moth to a bug-zapper. And it was too bad. He had a feeling Annabelle Tinker was a treasure. Envy scorched a hole through him. Though any human male could have her, she was forbidden to him. No good dwelling on that. It was a fact and had to be faced and accepted. His more pressing problem

was Annabelle's profession. She didn't much care for her job—that much was clear—but still the bills had to be paid. So, she didn't believe Erin's story, but would she use it as a filler in her tabloid, like all the other stories she hadn't believed? Would she even bother changing the names to protect the innocent? He watched her, and in spite of all his sensible reasons why he should stay away from her, he heard her spirit calling his, all the while knowing she was a risky woman. He risked not only revelation and disbelief, but also violating the laws of his people. Laws put in place to protect both fairy and human. “Ready to blow this joint?” he asked, surprising himself, as he motioned to the waiter for the check. Leaving too big a tip in his urgency to get going, he took her arm and led her from the restaurant. “Do you mind walking a bit?” he heard himself say, though he'd certainly not meant to delay getting her back home and him out of the reach of her allure. “Oh, no. It's such a nice evening.” They left his car in front of The Tea Room and walked down Franklin Street to the place where the campus met the town. They turned on the sidewalk fronting Battle Hall and followed it past Silent Sam, standing his post as he had for almost one hundred years. A breeze swept through the trees covering McCorkle Place. Annabelle chafed her arms. “Cold? Silly girl to come out on an early spring night with no wrap.” With no thought, Gaelen whisked off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I can't take your—” “Saythank you , Annabelle.” She smiled and he wasn't chilly at all. Quite the opposite. “Thank you, Gaelen.” “You're very welcome.” They walked on through the campus, past the Old Well, across Cameron Avenue and toward the library. As they walked, they talked. Gaelen couldn't remember talking so much with a woman about anything, much less something not directly involving him. But he was enchanted. “So, this farmer, what was his name?” Annabelle made a concentration frown. “Ah, yes, Oswald McGillicuddy, from just outside of Jamestown, he found one of his cows giving birth in a pasture. But, he claimed this particular cow hadn't been pregnant the night before. When the calf was born, he swore it looked just like E.T., all head and eyes and tentacles. Naturally, we didn't see the calf when we got to the farm. The aliens had abducted it, along with Mr. McGillicuddy's wife, Eloise.” “I see,” he said, with a smile. “So, what was the strangest story you ever wrote?” “I haven't yet.” She gazed around in the warm spring evening and drew in a deep breath, her eyes fluttering closed. “Do you smell that?” she asked. “What?” He picked his shirt away from him, frowning.

“Not you,” she laughed, shoving him affably. “The flowers. They're just starting to open.” Sure enough, they were passing the flowerbeds fronting one of the buildings. Gaelen noted with a start it was Dey Hall. He entered this building every day, and he'd never noticed the flowers. He hadn't noticed them for a long time. “Spring is my favorite time of all,” Annabelle was saying. “Full of new life and warm breezes and bees buzzing.” Her brown eyes sparkled, and her skin glowed. The sense of being drawn to her grew stronger by the second. “Oh, Gaelen, look!” He followed her gesture. A black squirrel sat under an ancient oak. “Isn't he beautiful?” She walked slowly toward the squirrel. The animal sat still, used to endless streams of people passing his tree. How many times had he passed this way and not noticed? He stood behind her as she crouched by the squirrel, whispering and offering him an acorn. And he sensed more. A connection with the world he'd ruthlessly eliminated from his life, a necessary course if he was to manage in the mortal world. Here in the quad, he felt the soul of every tree, the spirit of every oak reaching out to him, calling him to remember. You're still a fairy, Gaelen Riley. Remember. “Come, it's time to take you home.” Had she heard the thread of panic in his voice? It had been loud enough to him. Even desperate as he was to be away from her, safe from the influence of her opening up a part of his life he'd tried to put aside, he also yearned to let her do just that. What a relief it would be to give in and be no more than what he was. “I suppose it is time,” she replied. “I want to go over to the hospital one more time tonight.” “Sure,” he said, “I'll drive you over there.” He couldn't believe he'd made the offer. What was wrong with him? One moment he couldn't get away fast enough. The next, he was making an excuse—and that's all it was, he knew—to stay with her. Her expression was uncertain and her lips parted to protest. He raised his hand. “It's right on the way. I want to,” he said, realizing he really meant it. She accepted his offer with a smile and they walked back in easy silence to his car, then drove over to the hospital. Gaelen let her out at the front.

“I'll be up in a few minutes,” he said as she got out. “They might not let you,” she warned. “You're not family.” “I'll be up.” ~*~

Annabelle watched him pull away, feeling a little abandoned and cold. She forced herself to turn and enter the hospital. “Keep your mind on Erin,” she told herself, even as she kept wondering if Gaelen would want more than just one dinner date. Good grief, I only just met the man. She shook off her self-ridicule at getting infatuated with a man who was so obviously out of her league. For Pete's sake, he was a professor, a full professor, one with tenure, in a very esoteric field. I write nonsense for a supermarket rag. What on earth could two such different people have to talk about? And yet, theyhad talked. About lots of things that didn't have anything to do with journalism or Celtic literature. The weather. Books, movies, television. The Tar Heels's chances in the upcoming ACC tournament. She pushed open the double doors of the psychiatric ward and approached the nurse's desk, absently waving at the nurse who smiled at her. Erin's door was propped open. Annabelle peeked inside. Erin lay quietly, eyes closed, her hands resting beside her on the bed. The picture chilled Annabelle somewhat. It was less restful than peaceful—in a final sort of way. “Hi, sweetie,” Annabelle mumbled as she passed through the door. “She's sleeping, Ms. Tinker.” “Oh,” Annabelle gasped and spun around. “Oh, Dr. Duncan. I'm so sorry. I thought Erin would be alone.” “Just making late rounds.” The doctor picked up the stainless steel patient's chart hanging on the end of Erin's bed and raised the cover. “We had to give her a sedative earlier. She became rather agitated.” “Agitated? About what?” “Accusing us of trying to drug her.” A humorless chuckle punctuated the doctor's words. “And, so, we had to drug her.” Duncan shook her head. “It's so terribly sad. But, you can see she's in a very deep sleep. Perhaps you should go home and get some rest.”

The door scraped open behind them as they stared at the poor girl in the bed. “Annabelle?” Gaelen asked, his voice heavy with concern. “Dr. Riley,” Duncan said in a clipped tone, “visiting hours are over. You'll have to wait in the lobby.” “Are you all right, Annabelle?” he asked, ignoring the order. More than anything, Annabelle wanted to run to him and let him take her into his arms. Of course, there was no reason for her to think he'd want to hold her. “I'm all right. Would you wait for me, please?” “Sure.” He glanced over at Dr. Duncan, the first notice he'd made of her. With a slight dip of his head, he said, “Doctor.” He closed the door. Annabelle listened to the fading sound of his footsteps, feeling more alone than she could ever remember. “So, Gaelen came with you,” the doctor stated as she stared at the chart in her hand. “Yes, we went to dinner. Gaelen offered to stop here before he took me home.” “Dinner. A date?” “I suppose so,” Annabelle replied, her attention still on Erin's pale and still face. Dr. Duncan scribbled a note on the chart and closed the cover very gently. Annabelle could feel a tension in the air. “Ms. Tinker, I feel I ought to say something, yet, I'm not sure how you will react. It's about Gaelen.” “What about him?” Annabelle answered, hoping her jittery reaction didn't give her away. “He's a very handsome, charming man, and I have known many young women who have set their hearts on him.” “Dr. Duncan, I don't think—” “Hear me out, please,” the doctor interrupted, holding up one tiny hand. “In my profession, I see a lot of young women like Erin who have put all their hopes on a man only to have them dashed, then weren't able to deal with their heartbreak. Some of them have been driven to the very precipice of despair.” Precipice of despair?Dr. Duncan was certainly poetic for a shrink. “Erin will come around.” “I'm not talking about Erin now. Gaelen and Lucas Riley are cut from the same bolt of cloth. They are users and cannot be trusted to do what's right.” A light flashed across her eyes accompanied by a whisper of a smile. “Actually, it's worse than that. You see, women find Gaelen attractive, and he is, but

you see ... well, he's not fond ofwomen. ” “What?” “My dear, Gaelen is afairy .” Annabelle bit her lip. “Afairy ?” “Yes.” “You mean he's...gay?” “Oh, my dear, Gaelen is very gay.” Annabelle thought of the undercurrent between Dr. Duncan and Gaelen she'd sensed earlier today. She'd thought it was sexual. So much for my powers of observation. The doctor sighed. “I know how he affects women. Gaelen is, well, an old friend of mine. I've known him for a...longtime. He doesn't realize women find him attractive, since his attentions are directed elsewhere.” Well, wasn't that just the way? Annabelle's luck continues unchecked, she mused.The most gorgeous man she'd seen in years and he's a fairy. Still, something in the doctor's assertion didn't ring true. “Thank you for the advice, Doctor. But I assure you, I'm not attracted to Dr. Riley at all,” Annabelle lied. “I just met the man.” Dr. Duncan nodded, obviously not convinced. “Well, then, we'll just forget I said anything.” She smiled and set the chart under her arm. “Shall we?” she asked, holding her hand out toward the door. Annabelle allowed herself to be ejected from Erin's room, all the while feeling there was more to the story than Dr. Duncan had said. “Your mother was here earlier and left in quite a state, I'm afraid. Will you let me know if she needs anything to help her cope? I gave her another sedative, but I'd really like to check with her physician before prescribing more. At any rate, she is not taking these latest developments very well.” They stopped at the elevator. “In fact, Ms. Tinker, I fear your mother is being drawn into Erin's delusions.” Her mother wasn't the most emotionally fit person Annabelle had ever known. She didn't doubt for an instant the situation was weighing on her. “I'll keep an eye on her, Doctor. Thank you.” “Yes, Doctor. Thank you,” Gaelen echoed. He had come from nowhere to stand by Annabelle's side, and she could have wept with relief for the support, even if that was all she could hope for. “We'll certainly keep an eye on Mrs. Tinker, won't we, Annabelle?”

“That is very kind, Dr. Riley. Goodnight.” Duncan turned and walked silently away. Gaelen squeezed Annabelle's elbow and led her into the waiting elevator. “Come on, let's get you home, so you can check on your mother.” “Thank you, Gaelen.” They walked silently to his car. As though neither could bear to be first, they rode with no words passing between them. When she could stand it no longer, Annabelle finally asked, “Did you see her, Gaelen?” “Uh-huh.” He reached over and took her hand. It was so comforting, she held on. “Don't you worry, dear. Erin will be all right.” In the light of Dr. Duncan's revelations, Annabelle peeked over at the tall, handsome man holding her hand so tenderly. They had passed such a lovely evening, and his company was so easy, so comfortable. It occurred to her then, maybe part of her ease with Gaelen was only because on some level, she must have known he wasn't interested in her sexually. This knowledge, even if it were only subconscious, removed the usual tension of a first date and explained why she was so comfortable being with him. A deep sigh of disappointment escaped her. He reached across the small compartment and took her hand. “Don't worry, Annabelle.” Raising her hand, he brushed his lips along the bones, tracing each one with a butterfly touch. A flutter of reaction blossomed throughout her body. Oh, it wasn't fair. How could he tease her like this? He had to know how such a caress would affect her? Or maybe not. Maybe he didn't think anything of it. Maybe it was just kindness. Whatever it was, in spite of her unwanted reaction, his gesture did help. Gaelen pulled into the driveway, stopping behind Susan's battered wood-paneled station wagon. Annabelle didn't even see him come around to her side, didn't hear the door open. “Annabelle,” he said, his hand offered to help her out of the car. He held her hand as he walked her to the front door. “Do you really think Erin will be all right?” Annabelle asked, desperately needing his reassurance, wanting someone else to say the words out loud. “Yes. She will be. I promise.” Why did she want to believe him? Why did she want to believe his promise had any meaning at all?

“I'm going to hold you to that,” she said. “You can count on it.” Gaelen leaned forward as he tipped her head up with a gentle touch of his finger. His lips, so warm, so gentle, touched hers. “Good night, Annabelle.” CHAPTER EIGHT

Annabelle let herself in and softly closed the door, Gaelen's kiss still fresh and tingling on her lips. Admittedly, her experience with men left quite a lot to be desired, but even so, she couldn't convince herself Gaelen's kiss was merely a gesture of sympathy. Perhaps Dr. Duncan's powers of diagnosis weren't what they should be. Okay, maybe it was only wishful thinking on her part. There couldn't be a bigger waste for womankind than for Gaelen Riley to have no interest in women. But Annabelle couldn't believe herself so clueless that she couldn't tell she was being kissed by a gay man. Still, Dr. Duncan claimed to have known Gaelen for a long,long time. And Gaelen supported that by his comments, uncomplimentary as they were, about Dr. Duncan. “Enough already.” Annabelle waved her hand in impatience. “I've got enough to worry about.” Still, she decided to trust Gaelen's prognosis. His promise. Erin would be fine. “So, you've finally come in,” a deep male voice came from the shadows. Annabelle jumped at the sound, her heart hammering. As her eyes adjusted, she saw Lucas standing in the living room on the other side of the waist-high bookcase that formed a partition. A frown furrowed his brow, several day's growth of beard adding to the impression of exhaustion. “Lucas! You nearly scared me to death.” Annabelle glanced around. “Where's Mom?” “In her room, keening like a very banshee.” He tipped his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Do you not hear her?” The howl was faint, but audible, now that Annabelle paid attention. “So, what set her off? Do you know?” Lucas asked, as he set his large well-formed hands on the bookcase and leaned forward. More than anything, Annabelle wanted to just go fall into her bed and sleep, and forget everything for just a bit. But, she nodded wearily and waved him to follow her into the kitchen. “Yes, I know. Dr. Duncan told me she thought Mom was buying into Erin's delusion.” “You were at the hospital? Is Erin all right?” Lucas asked, anxiously. “I was there for a few minutes. The doctor sedated her. She said Erin was getting paranoid. Erin was sleeping when I was there.” Lucas slumped down at the kitchen table. “So, where have you been all evening?” Clear accusation rang

in his tone. “With Gaelen.” At Lucas's stare, Annabelle stopped. “What's wrong?” “You went out with Gaelen?” “Yes. He asked me to dinner,” Annabelle answered, pulling off her wrap and hanging it over the back of a chair. “He did?” Lucas asked, his eyes wide with disbelief. “That's a surprise. Unless....” “Unless what?” “Oh, nothing. Well, just that Gaelen's tastes must have changed somewhat.” He glanced at Annabelle. “I didn't mean anything aboutyou . It's just that Gaelen....” Lucas's pause further depressed Annabelle with its confirmation of Dr. Duncan's diagnosis of Gaelen's preferences. She sighed. “Don't worry, Lucas. I didn't think he wanted to spend time with me. Dr. Duncan filled me in already.” “Filled you in?” “She told me about your brother.” At Lucas's expectant expression, she explained. “She told me he's gay.” “Gay? Gaelen?” He threw his head back and laughed, a big, booming laugh that tickled Annabelle just hearing it. “Why is it funny?” “This was Linette Duncan?” “I guess. The doctor on the psych ward,” Annabelle said. “Linette Duncan said Gaelen wasgay ?” “Well, actually, she used the word ‘fairy.’ Not very politically correct, is she?” “Clever girl,” Lucas said softly, laughing again. “What doesthat mean?” “Oh, nothing,” he answered, still chuckling. “Well, is he?” Annabelle demanded. “What? Gay?” Lucas shrugged. “I don't know if I'd use that word, but ‘tis true Gaelen has little use for human women.”

“Humanwomen?” Visions of all sorts of strange practices passed through her mind, with the satyric, gorgeous body of Gaelen Riley right in the middle. “No, no,” Lucas spit out in the middle of a gigantic guffaw, “nothing depraved! I don't know why I said it like that. He's actually perfectly normal ... for Gaelen.” He eyed Annabelle. “How did it go?” Not exactly reassured, Annabelle answered, “Fine. It was very nice.” Lucas nodded. “Gaelen always knew how to show a lady a good time.” “Lucas, is he gay?” “My dear Annabelle, Gaelen loves women more than any other male I've ever known.” That was almost worse than thinking he wasn't interested at all. “What does that mean? Why would Dr. Duncan lie?” “Dr. Duncan was one of Gaelen's, ah, friends.” “Dr. Duncan?” “Oh, aye. They were not involved for very long, however. Gaelen dislikes possessive women.” Lucas chuckled. “Possessive ones are theonly ones he dislikes. Linette holds a grudge a good long time, though. I suspect she was just trying to get Gaelen's goat.” “So, he's not....” “No. He's not. Straight as I-95.” A little reassured, but still wary, Annabelle shrugged. “Well, I'm certain it wasn't my charms that induced the invitation anyway. I expect he only asked me so he could find out if I knew where you are.” “I expect you're right.” Lucas laid his hands on Annabelle's shoulders and rubbed. “Why don't you turn in? We'll go over in the morning and check on her.” “All right.” Annabelle turned toward her room, but stopped and faced Lucas. “Gaelen told me not to worry. He promised me she'd be all right.” An expression of wonder crossed Lucas's face, followed by a soft smile. “Did he now? I expect that's as good as gold.” With a wink, Lucas disappeared through the door to the basement rec room. Annabelle felt her spirit rising, in spite of everything. When her head hit the pillow, her dreams were filled with Gaelen Riley. ~*~

As he drove back to the hospital, Gaelen wondered why he didn't just probe her mind to find out if she knew where Lucas was. After all, it was in a good cause. Instantly, he chided himself.

“You've lost more than wonder, boyo. You've lost your sense of justice.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they weren't quite true. He hadn't violated her mind. But now he knew he was left with following her to find Lucas. Before anything else, though, Dr. Duncan was going to get another visit. He didn't trust himself to even speculate on what the pixie witch had planned for poor Erin, but the sight of the girl in a drug-induced haze surely presented a universe of possibilities. Parking in the underground garage, Gaelen hid in a dark corner and squooshed. Flashing up the empty stairwells, he arrived at the eleventh floor and gave himself a moment to recover from reconstituting. “Whew,” he whistled, peering around the door into the empty hallways. The Brute Squad was nowhere to be seen. Gaelen stepped into the hall, softly walking toward the nurse's station. At Erin's door, he pushed it gently open and took a quick look. She lay as still as death, only the faint movement of her breathing indicating any soul still occupied her body. Gaelen let the door shut silently. Voices echoed down the hallway. Reaching into his memory, Gaelen tried to remember the form for inducing glamour—the enchantment of making a mortal see what the fairy wanted him to see. Right now, Gaelen wanted the mortals to see nothing. Stepping out into the path of the speakers, he waited. Neither noticed him. In fact, he had to jump out of the way so they wouldn't run into him. “Ah, we never lose it, do we?” he whispered. “What was that?” “What?” “Didn't you hear it? It was like a breeze blowing.” Gaelen smiled. He still had it. After years of shunning his fairy nature, he still had the gift. He strutted a bit as he sought out Linette Duncan. “I'm ready for you, you little pixie.” Scanning around for signs of her passing, he picked up a sense that she was straight ahead. He followed his feelings and stopped before the door marked “Women—Staff Showers.” With a smile and a rising sense of anticipation, Gaelen pushed the door open and walked in.

Heads turned, though not one expression showed any alarm. “Close that door!” “Jeez, Louise! Were you born in a barn?” “Ididn't open it!” Gaelen stepped out of the way as a tall, lean blonde wearing only a towel around her waist nearly knocked him over. He snapped his gaping mouth shut, stifled a whistle, and sought his target. The fiery red mop atop Linette's head betrayed her. She stood at an open locker, still drying off. Several other women stood in the same aisle. Gaelen came up behind her and ran his fingertip up her spine. Her yelp rang through the shower room. “What's your problem, Doc?” one of the women shouted. “There're are no ghosts in here, are there?” Linette swung around, bumping into Gaelen's large frame. “Gaelen,” she whispered, wrapping her towel around her. “Yes, darlin', ‘tis I. Your once beloved Gaelen.” “What are you doin’ here? Get out!” She more mouthed the words than actually spoke them. Grabbing his sleeve, she dragged him behind the lockers and shoved as hard as she could. Gaelen laughed. “Such a feisty, wee thing. I used to appreciate that aspect of your character, Linette.” “Hey, Doc, are you all right?” “I'm fine.” Her lips snapped shut like a turtle. “It's probably better if you don't talk, Linette. Wouldn't want the doctor to be admitted to the ward, would we?” Linette looked ready to skewer him on a rusty spit. “Now,” Gaelen continued, “about Erin Tinker.” The only response he got was a pair of burning green eyes promising pain and death. Ignoring her silent threats, Gaelen went on, “I don't know exactly what you're planning to do with that girl, but you're going to cancel your plans right now. You'll release her tomorrow and then, my dear Linette, you will remove yourself from the affairs of Faerie for good.” His eyes strayed, following a well-formed brunette with the most exquisite.... “And, what's more, you'll stay away from Annabelle Tinker.”

“That's what this is really all about, isn't it?” Linette asked, oblivious to the stares of the woman drying off next to her. “That woman has bewitched you, and now you're thinking of flaunting the law just as your brother did.” “What I do is my concern, and none of yours.” A different expression crossed the pixie features. “When did you become so interested in anybody else?” Gaelen ignored the jibe. “Just pay attention, Linette. Release Erin tomorrow.” In the ultimate last word, Gaelen squooshed and flew out of the shower room. Linette seethed. How dare the man tell her how to do her business? She'd never tell him how to do his job. First, he dumped her—for no reason she could ever see—then, he becomes infatuated with this plain Jane mortal woman. Not only that, but a woman who had the power to destroy them all. She shook her head at the stupidity of men. Why they couldn't be happy with their own kind, she didn't know. She accepted that the men of Faerie lusted after mortal women; she just didn't understand it. More, though, she'd been hoping somehow to reconcile with Gaelen. He was the one she'd never gotten over. Now, this Annabelle Tinker had bewitched him, and her stupid sister and Lucas, the criminal, had created a situation putting Gaelen and Linette on opposite sides. Well, they won't get away with it,she thought. Linette jerked on jeans and a sweater and slipped her espadrilles on. She stopped by the nurse's station to make sure Erin Tinker was well sedated, and then she went looking for the Brute Squad. She'd need some help—somefairy help—to pull this one off. ~*~

Gaelen met Annabelle the next morning as she left the hospital, her eyes red-rimmed and her spirit low. “How is she this morning?” he asked. “The same.” “Dr. Duncan hasn't released her?” Annabelle stared at him as though he was crazy. “Release her? They won't even let me see her, Gaelen.” She sighed. “Now, Mom is up there in a frenzy. Dr. Duncan finally gave her a sedative, too.” What was the pixie up to, Gaelen wondered. If she so blatantly disregarded him, she must have a plan and a reasonable chance for succeeding. “I still haven't found Lucas.” Mention of Lucas's name seemed to make Annabelle uncomfortable. Gaelen decided to push.

“Annabelle, I know you're worried about Erin. You must know how I feel about Lucas. I haven't seen hide or hair of him since before this sorry mess started.” He took her hand and made her face him. “If you know where he is, you have to tell me.” She glanced away. “At least tell me if he's all right.” With her eyes averted from him, Gaelen couldn't see which way she was leaning. With a sudden feeling that their time was growing short, he almost went into her head. Annabelle jerked up, her brown eyes questioning. Clumsy lout!Gaelen fumed with himself. She'd felt him probing. “I have to go, Gaelen.” She broke away and went to her little rented car. He watched her go. Then he headed for his car. She was going to Lucas. CHAPTER NINE

“So ... I might have known I'd find you here.” Gaelen said softly, after unsquooshing in the rec room of the Tinker home. Lucas jerked his head up, a wry smile spreading over his face. “Gaelen. I might have known I couldn't hide forever.” “You did a pretty good job, boyo. I had to follow Annabelle to find you.” “All you had to do was scan her. She's known where I was for two days.” Lucas cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, studying. Gaelen had to struggle to keep from squirming under his brother's gaze. “Why didn't you probe her mind, Gaelen?” Why indeed, Gaelen wondered as he drew a small bag from his coat pocket. Stretching open the drawstrings, he stuck two fingers inside and extracted a small, crystal bottle. “Let's just say I was being a gentleman.” Anxious to get back the upper hand, he ordered, “Get ‘em out, now. Let's have a look at the damage.” “Not here, you ass! What if Annabelle or her mother come down here and see me?” “Annabelle is sleeping, and her mother is drugged. They won't wake up. Come on, Lucas, we don't have all day.” With a grimace, Lucas shucked off his jacket and shirt. “It's been a while, and they're sore, so don't rush me.” Biting his lower lip, Lucas closed his eyes and unfolded his wings.

“Oh, Bridget,” he moaned. “Atta-boy, come on. Just a little more now.” Gaelen's voice was soft and comforting. “I know it hurts, boyo, but come on. I've got some ointment to take the sting out.” “Holy Bridget,” Lucas groaned, “I hope Annabelle doesn't come down here.” “You and me both, brother. The last thing I want is to have to explain why I'm tending my brother's privates.” Lucas laughed. “T'would be a shocker for the poor girl for certain.” “I don't know, Luke,” Gaelen said with a chuckle. “Somehow, I don't think that one would be as shocked as you might think.” “It certainly shook a scream from my Erin when these things popped out.” “You should have thought about that before you took up with a mortal woman.” “Hey, watch it. That hurts. And what's wrong with a mortal woman?” “You know the law. Our kind can't consort with mortals.” Gaelen punctuated his sentence with a dab of ointment. “Don't you realize what you've done? And there was no need. Three hundred fairy women on this campus I know of—” “And you've been with every one.” “Not even half,” Gaelen shot back. “How did you get involved with a human girl anyway? You know better.” “It was a blind date. I couldn't get out of it without raising a lot of suspicion. I knew it could come to nothing, so I didn't worry about it. I just figured I wouldn't call her back.” He shrugged, then winced. “Erin wouldn't give up. And I enjoyed talking to her. We became friends. Then I fell in love.” “Oh, boy.” Gaelen rolled his eyes. “And I forgot the rules.” Lucas showed his palms in a helpless gesture. “Haven't you ever wanted to wake up with the same woman for the rest of your life?” “Bridget, no!” He was terrified by the thought, all the more so because suddenly, he could imagine waking up with the same woman, and the picture was an appealing one. As long as the woman had warm brown eyes and long, sable-soft hair and full curves. Lucas's speculative gaze warned him he was about to give too much away, so he forced himself to lower his voice, determined to reason with his brother. “We're fairies, Lucas. We're born to be superficial, for Pete's sake. My books and my studies are what I live for, and you would do well to get your mind on your work and keep it off women. You can't have Erin, and that's the long and short of it.” “Work! There's more to living than work—” Gaelen cut Lucas's outburst off with a raised hand.

“The rules are there to keep everybody from getting hurt, Luke. Do you want to watch the woman you love get old and die? Your children? You'll still be hale enough to start all over again when your great-grandchildren are dust.” “Don't, Gaelen. I know it was wrong.” “It didn't stop you.” Gaelen held Lucas's gaze. Lucas didn't try to look away. “No,” he answered, but his voice was low. “You understand the penalty.” “I'm going to fight it.” “You're nuts. There is no fighting it. You'll go to Tir-Nan-Og for a century or two and Erin will be—” Gaelen stopped, the horror of the words chilling him. “She'll be dealt with.” “No!” Lucas jumped from his seat and whirled on Gaelen. “I won't allow it. It's my fault. I should be the one to bear the brunt of the Council's wrath.” “It's not wrath, Lucas. It's survival. All we need is one human, just one, to speak the words.” Lucas waved dismissively. “That's an old fairy's story. Words can't destroy us.” “Well, I'll tell you, boy, I don't want to be the one who finds out. Whether it kills us or not, it won't be pleasant. That much I do know.” Gaelen wished the whole subject hadn't come up. “Sit back down and raise your arm,” he ordered Lucas. Lucas obeyed, but he wasn't ready to concede the debate. “Have you wondered about that law? Fairies have been dealing with humans for millennia. Old Finnvarra has been stealing human women since before we went underground. Why was such a law passed?” Gaelen applied more ointment as he considered Lucas's words. Why indeed? Maybe instead of thousand-year-old documents, he should be studying documents of a more recent vintage and closer to home. Lucas was still offering his opinions. “You remember Dad blamed Eochy for cutting us off from humans.” There was nothing to be gained by this. “I don'tknow why,” Gaelen said impatiently. “I don'tcare why. All I know or care about is taking care of this mess you've made and getting back to my work.” “Yee-ouch! Your work. That's all you worry about. Day and night, night and day. Gaelen, what can be so important in translating thousand-year-old Irish documents?” “Old Gaelic, if you please. And they're not a day under twelve hundred years, I'll have you know. Giving us a new understanding of the syntax of liturgical language—” “I don't care, Gaelen. All I want is to take care of Erin.”

“Erin is the Council's business now.” “Be damned! They'll not get their hands on her.” Gaelen stood, ointment slick on his fingers. “You'd better hope we get her to the Council, boyo. That's another reason I had to find you tonight. Have you been over to the hospital?” “Not since this morning. Why?” “Didn't Annabelle tell you?” “That Linette is drugging Erin?” Lucas winced as Gaelen applied more ointment. “I don't know if Annabelle knows it, but I gathered as much from what she said.” “Do you know why?” “No. Why?” Lucas's voice held a tension that was partly fear, partly protectiveness. “Linette has been instructed by her leaders to capture you and Erin.” “What business do the pixies have getting mixed up in our affairs?” “Linette claims you've put all of Faerie in danger, including the pixies. So, she got the Confederacy to give her the authority to handle it.” Gaelen shrugged. “I think she's using this to get back at me.” “I told you—!” “Iknow , Lucas, you warned me about her. And, for once, you were right. But, you can see why it's even more important for us to get Erin to the North American Council, so they can deal with her.” “Shhh,” Lucas hissed. “Listen.” Gaelen reflexively did as he was bid, his gaze following Lucas's to the ceiling. In the nighttime silence, the sound of footsteps grew louder. “Lucas? Who are you talking to?” “It's Annabelle. Fold your wings down.” “Lucas?” Her whispered call floated down the stairs. Gaelen made a motion for Lucas to answer her. “Yes, Annabelle. I'm right here.” He pulled his shirt back on and stepped to the foot of the stairs just as she appeared. “You decent?” she asked, much too late for it to matter. “Sure. What's the matter?”

Gaelen stepped back into the shadows of the stairway and waited for his chance to sneak out. “I heard voices. Were you talking?” Her eyes darted around the big room, then back to Lucas's face. “Is somebody else down here?” “No. Who would be?” Lucas glanced at his wrist “Look at that, almost midnight. You should be in bed.” Annabelle ignored his hint and stepped by him into the room. Squoosh!Gaelen took flying form just as she came into view. He hovered near the corner of the room. “Annabelle, I really need some sleep.” Lucas leaned against the stairs, looking as tired as he claimed. Annabelle just looked confused. “I know I heard voices down here, not just yours but—” She frowned, putting absurdly attractive wrinkles across her pretty forehead. “But what?” Lucas prompted. The frown deepened. “Never mind. I must have been dreaming. I'm sorry for bothering you.” “No bother.” “Good night,” she said and headed back for the stairs. But instead of starting up, she stopped and turned to Lucas. “You're going to think I'm so weird,” she started. Lucas smiled. Gaelen would have, too. She was in overly large sweats and her long chocolate brown hair hung in sleepy disarray around her shoulders. She looked delightfully tousled. He pushed the idea of the sleep-mussed Annabelle out of his head. For certain he didn't need to be getting all distracted now. The fact she was human loomed like a brick wall around her. Not likely he could forget that. Much as he wanted to. “Lucas,” she finally asked. “You said Gaelen's promise was good as gold. Did you mean that, or were you being sarcastic?” Gaelen listened intently. “Gaelen is the most honorable man I know. He'll not give his word lightly. If he promised, he'll move heaven and earth to keep his word.” Lucas's trust wasn't something Gaelen had consciously tried to earn. To hear it so firmly pledged surprised him, and made him ridiculously proud. But more surprising was his desire to know he had Annabelle Tinker's trust, too. But he wouldn't hear it tonight. For now, she simply nodded at Lucas and went up the stairs. Gaelen hovered there, realizing her trust must be earned. And there was only one way to do that. He'd promised her Erin would be all right. Now it was time to make sure he kept that promise. He dashed down to the basement window and tapped on it to be let out.

Come on, Lucas, open up. “Okay, okay. I'm comin',” Lucas said as he came over. “Keep your wings on.” Lucas slid the window open and Gaelen was on his way, through the screen and out into the dark. He didn't even wait to see if Lucas followed him. ~*~

Linette Duncan prepared another syringe of phenobarbital and laid it on the table by Erin's bed. Erin's eyes opened, her head shook once, twice, then her eyes closed again. “Poor dear,” Linette whispered to the groggy girl. “'Tis really too bad, isn't it? But you'll be very happy where you're going, I promise you.” She turned to the two burly fairy mercenary orderlies. Allowing herself a moment of appreciation, Linette enjoyed the way their muscular forearms bulged the seams of the polyester uniform shirts. Their sinewy thighs strained the material of the cheap slacks. “Such lovely lads,” she whispered. Louder she asked, “Did you get the stock?” “Aye, Doc. We found a grand hunk of beechwood in the forest by the lake. Just about the right size. A wee bit o’ glamour, and nobody will be able to tell the difference.” “Can you do it? We've only got a little time before Gaelen comes around.” The fairy merc frowned, obviously insulted. “Madame, weare fairies, after all. We know our business.” “Saints protect me from sensitive mercenaries.” Linette rolled her eyes to heaven and stepped aside, waving at the bed. “Get to it, then.” The two fairies lay the post of beechwood on the bed beside Erin, arranging the bedclothes around it, just so. “Hurry up, hurry up!” “Look, Doc, if you think you can do better, we'll step aside.” Linette was really getting irritated. These stupid fairies didn't know about Gaelen's warning to release Erin. For all that he was a philandering, womanizing rake, Gaelen was also a member of the Council of One Hundred, and one of the most powerful fairy males on this continent. It was unlikely these two, even from the “old sod” as they were, would get in the way of her fight with Gaelen. “The Council wants this girl in Ireland, and we've got to get her there today. Now...” She waved her hands wildly. “Do whatever it is you fairies do!” With a superior sneer, the taller fairy winked at his comrade and they resumed their business. "Dr. Duncan,"the tinny voice called over the intercom,"Dr. Duncan. Please come to Room 1115. Dr.

Duncan to Room 1115." “What now?” “Isn't 1115 the paranoid-schizo laddie?” one of the mercs asked, frowning—he always frowned. “We'd better come with you, Doc.” Linette sighed. “Yes, I suppose you'd better. You,” she said to the other, “you stay here and get that stock ready to replace her.” “By myself?” “Of course. You said it would only take a ‘wee bit o’ glamour.’ Take care of it, and come down to 1115 when you're done. When we're finished there, we'll come get Miss Tinker and take her to Ireland. Lucas will follow, and so will Gaelen. This business has taken too long already.” “Aye, Doc,” he said to her back as she left the room, followed by his fellow merc. To Erin's sleeping face, he said, “She's a real pip, ain't she, darlin'?” The merc was actually glad she was gone. It was not respectable to do magic in front of outsiders. He raised his hands over the wood, passing them once, twice, three times, finally deciding on a version of the changeling chant, and whispered to the wood: "This lass's form shall be your own, to mortal eyes no change be seen. Her flight from here remain unknown, 'til from Erin's land she returns again.” He winced at the bad poetry. His ma had always told him he should pay more attention to versification. “You have a nice sleep darlin',” he said to Erin. Patting the log, he smiled and went to join the Doc and Frank in 1115. Erin strained to open her eyes when the door slammed. It was so hard to stay awake, even harder to take in the surroundings. She felt, though, the body in bed next to her. Turning her head, she came face-to-face with herself. Naturally, she screamed, and fell from the bed. Groggy and unable to stand, she sat on the floor. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, giving Erin only a moment's warning to roll under the high-standing bed. She pulled a sheet down to hide herself. A nurse came in and stood by the bed, unaware of Erin hiding underneath. “Miss Tinker,” the nurse called, much too loudly. “Miss Tinker, are you sleeping?”

Erin, groggy as she was, was amazed by the stupid question and almost answered. “What is it?” a second nurse asked, coming into the room. “Shall I call Dr. Duncan?” “No, she just screamed in her sleep. Look at her, sleeping like a log. What's this?” the nurse asked. Erin peeked around the metal frame of the bed and saw the nurse pick up a syringe. “Very careless of the doctor to leave this lying around. Here you are, Miss Tinker. You'll be quiet now for another twelve hours.” The nurses left the room together. Erin carefully slid out from under the bed and stood up on still shaky legs. When she looked at the bed, they got shakier. “What's going on here?” She studied the form in the bed, even summoning the courage to raise the sheet and peek underneath. Suddenly, it was all clear to her. “A pod person! Just like in theInvasion of the Body Snatchers . Iknew it! Aliens. She's one of them, and those big orderlies, too. I've got to get out of here.” Digging through all the drawers in the room and the closet built into the corner, Erin found her clothes and shoes. She dressed hurriedly, pulled her hair back into a ponytail and tied it with a string torn from her hospital gown. With a deep breath, she pulled the door open cautiously and went out into the hallway, glancing up and down for the aliens. Annabelle wouldlovethis , Erin thought with a nervous giggle.What a story for The Weekly Investigator. “My Sister Escapes Alien Trap,” by Annabelle Tinker. Might even win a Pulitzer. “Hey, you!” a deep male voice startled her. It was one of the orderlies who followed Dr. Duncan around like poodles ... well, maybe Great Danes was more accurate. Erin dashed down the hallway and ducked into a room marked “Women—Staff Showers.” CHAPTER TEN

Gaelen, followed closely by Lucas, arrived in the middle of what looked like a manhunt. Nurses, orderlies—including Linette's two pet fairies—and doctors, ran the halls like a pack of white mice in a maze. “Looks like we've arrived at a good time,” Lucas whispered. “You go get her. I'll keep watch out here,” Gaelen said. With a nod, Lucas stepped quickly around to the door and into the room. Gaelen scoped out an escape route. Sliding down the hallway, Gaelen peered down the nearest flight of stairs and, satisfied it was the safest way to go, went back to meet Lucas and Erin.

“What the hell? Lucas!” Gaelen hissed. Lucas sat on his rump outside the room, his face a mask of agony. “We're too late, Gaelen,” Lucas muttered. “What?” Gaelen shoved Lucas out of the way and pushed into the room. When he caught sight of the bed, his heart stopped. “Holy Bridget.” He walked up to the side of the bed and gazed down at a well-hewn stock of beechwood. He rejoined his brother out in the hallway, sliding down the wall to sit beside Lucas on the floor. “I'm sorry, Lucas. I thought we had time.” “It's not your fault, Gaelen. It's mine. It's all my fault.” Lucas began to weep, the copious, out-of-control tears of fairy sorrow. People passed by, not even noticing them. The lack of interest in two unauthorized persons sitting on the floor outside a patient's door, one keening like a banshee, piqued Gaelen's curiosity. “What is going on up here?” he asked. “What does it matter?” “Come on, Lucas, get hold of yourself, man. Look.” He pointed at the tiny figure of Dr. Duncan running along the hallways, a look of panic on her face. The fairy orderlies followed behind her, spreading out to comb the floor. “They're looking for her, Lucas,” Gaelen whispered, suddenly understanding. “They've lost her.” “What?” Lucas said, wiping his sleeve under his nose and looking in the direction of Gaelen's finger. His face cleared as understanding dawned on him, too. “They're lookin’ for her,” he repeated. “They put a changeling in the bed, but before they could take Erin, she got away.” “That's it, bucko. Let's go find her before they do.” ~*~

Erin pulled a shower curtain across the opening of the stall just as the door opened and one of the orderlies came in. She shrank against the corner, holding her breath and praying to become invisible. “Here, Frank. Quickly, it's Lucas!” Dr. Duncan's voice blasted through the shower room. Erin let out her breath as Frank turned and ran from the room. “Lucas.” Her heart pounded. “He came to get me.” Creeping to the door, she pulled it open just a crack and peered into the hallway. The commotion was deafening. Gurneys rattled, then crashed into the walls. Women squealed as they

were shoved out of the way. “There.” The diminutive Dr. Duncan pointed with a thin finger. “Behind the potted plant. Get the net!” “Net?” Well, it was the psych ward, after all, but Erin hadn't thought they'd use butterfly nets. She peeked back out, just in time to see they weren't using anything so harmless as a butterfly net. The mesh Frank dragged along made a metallic swish as it swept across the tiled floor. “Come, boyo. Let's not make any more trouble, eh?” Frank said, his friendly words belied by the edge in his voice. Frank raised the net and tossed it like a fisherman. It landed over the large philodendron in a distant corner, but not before a pinpoint of light flickered and flashed out of it, dashing down the hall, stopping in front of the door behind which Erin hid like it had hit a stone wall. She stared at the pinpoint of light. She could have sworn it was staring back at her. In an instant, it reversed direction and flew back down the hall to meet the oncoming herd of orderlies, all of them now brandishing some sort of restraining device. Erin sucked in a breath. “No,” she whispered. “Don't let them catch you.” The flicker of light came to an intersecting hall, just as the orderlies were about to reach it. With an incredible change of direction like she'd seen on those alien invasion shows, it dashed down one long hallway. Erin giggled at the comic foot slapping and sliding of the orderlies trying to follow. “Erin. Come away from the door, darling.” She spun, not daring to believe she'd heard his voice. One of those beautiful moments lingered, where time stands still, as she and Lucas stared at each other, really, actually, drinking in each other with their eyes. “Lucas!” Erin jumped into his arms. “My darlin',” he murmured into her hair. “I'm here. Now we've got to get you out.” “Yes,” Erin replied, trying to be calm. “You're in danger, Lucas. You and Gaelen. I heard them talking when they thought I was asleep.” “Them who?” “Dr. Duncan. The orderlies, you know, the ones with the accents?” Erin took his hand and led him into the shadows. “They were talking about getting you and Gaelen to Ireland for some reason. Something about a Council. Lucas, what is this about?” He squeezed her hand and, wrapping his arms around her, pulled her closer.

“I can't tell you now, love. There isn't time. Come,” he said, releasing her and taking her hand, led her to the door. “Is there another way out?” “I don't know. I just ducked in here to get away from the goons.” Lucas chuckled. “It's all right. We'll get out. They have to deal with Gaelen now.” He drew open the door and peered out. Erin glanced out around him, but could see nothing. “Good,” Lucas said at last, “Gaelen has them far away. I'm going out to make sure the way is clear. You follow when I give you a wave, okay?” Erin nodded, and for the first time in days, really felt everything would be all right. Lucas leaned toward her. She stood on her tiptoes. Their lips met in a sweet, too-short kiss of promise. He winked at her playfully, lifting her spirits even more, before he went out into the hallway. Erin watched, waiting for the sign. A creepy crawly wiggle of dread inched up her spine. “There he is, boys. Get him!” Dr. Duncan shouted. Frank and the other big orderly jumped out of a room and onto Lucas. This wasn't the sign he'd intended, Erin was sure, but it was close enough for her. She yanked the door open and leapt into the hallway. Screaming her head off. Hands out, ready to scratch, teeth bared for biting. “Let him go!” she yelled at the burly men who held Lucas down. “Let him go!” Her little fists made no impression at all on them. “Damn minx! Stop!” Frank waved her off him as though she were no more than a gnat, sending her flying against the wall. Woof! The air was pushed from her lungs and her legs gave out on her. Erin slid to the floor, gasping, aching. “Leave her alone!” Lucas roared, though he was unable to move. “Can't you shut him up, Sean?” “Sure.” The other orderly, Sean, whacked Lucas with a meaty paw. Lucas's head snapped backward, a thick crack sounding as he made contact with the wall. His eyelids fell shut as his eyes rolled upward in his head. “Lucas!” “Don't you worry, darlin', I just gave him a little Ulster sedative,” Sean said with a laugh as he bent over and tied Lucas's wrists behind him with a dark green rope. He turned back to Frank and the doctor. “He'll be giving us no trouble for a bit.” Erin crawled over to Lucas, running her hands along his chest, his face, his arms.

“Yuck,” she exclaimed, drawing back her hand from the cold, wet, fishy-smelling bonds around Lucas's wrists. “What do you have him tied with?” she managed to ask. “Never you mind, dear,” Frank said, offering her a hand up. “It's just the ticket for holding such as him down.” “It looks like seaweed.” “Aye. He won't be breaking out of a well-tied strand of good, salty seaweed, love.” Frank looked at Dr. Duncan. “How ‘bout it, Doc? It's up to you. Do we wait to get the other one?” “What other one? You leave my sister alone!” Erin shouted, terrified for Annabelle's sake. Everybody knew aliens abducted beautiful Earth women to have sex with them. “Not your sister, sweetheart,” Frank reassured her. “It's Lucas's brother we'll be after.” “Why are you wasting time explaining to her? Gaelen will follow us to get his brother. Then we can bring them all before the Council and get our reward. Bring them and let's be off.” Dr. Duncan swirled away in a blur of long white lab coat and led the way to the stairs. Frank grabbed Erin's arm and pulled her to her feet. Turning to his companion, he asked, “Can you get that one, Sean?” “Sure'n I can handle this wee lad.” Dragged along the hallway, Erin glanced around, frantic for a glimpse of a friendly face. The nurses and doctors strolled along the hall as though they were invisible. “Help!” she cried. “Help us!” She grabbed at the sleeve of a passing nurse. Her fingers passed through the woman's arm. A gasp of terror whistled through her. “They can't see you, dear. Nor can they hear or feel you. You are invisible to them,” Frank explained. “But how?” Erin stopped her question. “Of course. Youare aliens. You can pass through walls, so I suppose you can make yourselves invisible, too.” Frank laughed out loud. A passing nurse looked right at him, then, face wrinkled in confusion, she moved on, shaking her head. “Yes, dear. We're aliens. Right, Sean?” Sean joined in the hilarity. “Aye, Frankie. But I got me green card right here in me wallet.” The two laughed all the way to the end of the corridor where a freight elevator stood open, waiting. “If you can hold down the comedy, George and Gracie, we'll get on our way,” Dr. Duncan was leaning

against the corner of the huge elevator, finger on the button that would take them to the basement. “I'm Gracie, okay, Frankie?” Frankie laughed as he followed Sean into the elevator. “Begorrah, Sean. You know I don't like cigars. Maybe we could take turns?” “Shut up, the both of you.” Dr. Duncan pressed the button, then pressed her palm to her forehead. “You need to relax, Doc,” Frank told her. “You pixies just take life too serious.” Dr. Duncan rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “I'm not going to get into a whole bigstramash o'er this.” “Stramash?” Sean and Frank said the word together, stared at each other, then smirked. Erin, still held in Frank's tight grip, ventured a question. “Where are you taking us?Why are you taking us?” “We're going to Ireland, dear.” “Ireland?” Erin felt her eyes widen and a smile spread over her face. “I've always wanted to go to Ireland. My Granny Tinker was born in Ireland.” Then she remembered she was being taken to Ireland against her will. “I don't think I can go now. I've got a biochemistry final and practicals and....” “Don't be too concerned over that, dear,” Dr. Duncan said. “If the court finds you innocent, you'll be returned.” “What court?” “The court being convened at thebrugh of King Finnvarra.” “Brew?” Erin asked. “She means palace, lass,” Frank offered. Dr. Duncan glared at the man. “Palace,” she repeated, looking very irritated, before she turned her back to them all. “Who's King Finnvarra?” Erin asked Frank. “The king of the good folk of Connacht, lassie.” Frank tipped his head and looked her up and down. “I wouldna worry o'er much, were I you. The king has an eye for the comely lass, and he's a special affection for your kind. He'll not let harm come to you.” “What kind is my kind?” Erin asked, sure she wasn't going to enjoy being the object of this king's affection. “Mortal.” “Mortal?” Erin was about to ask another question, but the sharp sting of an injection bit into her arm an

instant before Frank's face faded before her eyes, and she fell into blackness. ~*~

Gaelen sped along the hallways, purposely leaving a trail. At the end of a long hall, he stopped, unsquooshed, and caught his breath. He waited for the lads to come after him, ready to take on the two fairy mercenaries with his bare hands. “Okay, buddy,” a voice startled him from behind. “You the guy causing all the hullabaloo?” Gaelen turned to face the man, one of the regular hospital security men, doughnut-padded belly hanging over his belt. “Me?” he asked, all innocence. “Oh, come now,” the guard said. “Let's not be coy.” He pulled a pair of handcuffs from behind his back and jingled them. “Don't make this difficult, eh?” He motioned with one hand ahead of him. “Shall we?” “Certainly,” Gaelen answered, glad to have some help in finding Lucas and Erin. “I don't know what the trouble is, though, officer. I was looking for my brother. He's visiting his sweetheart up here.” “Really? Tell it to the supervisor, buddy. All I know is, a doctor called security to come up to restrain some patients who'd gone gaga. You one of them?” “Do I look gaga?” Gaelen asked, offended. “Do I look like a doctor?” the officer said, grabbing Gaelen's elbow. “Hey!” Gaelen cried, wrenching his elbow free. The officer pulled the pistol from his holster. It shook a little, as though the man were unfamiliar with it. Gaelen was starting to get antsy. Lucas was supposed to be here by now with Erin. Glancing over the officer's shoulder, he wondered what to do now. The shaky gun in the man's hand didn't worry him. It would be an easy thing to squoosh and get out of the way. But that would reveal his nature to a mortal who wouldn't be likely to believe. That could be more fatal than the bullet. “Okay, officer. Don't get nervous. I'll come quietly.” Gaelen raised his hands over his head and waited for the officer to indicate the way they were to go. The shaky officer let Gaelen pass him and start down the hall. Gaelen, hands still in the air, walked slowly, hoping to see Lucas and Erin come around the corner. Then he could let the officer take them all to the security office, somewhere he and Lucas could engineer an escape. But Lucas didn't come. A hard punch in his back redirected his attention to the officer. “Come on, what's the hold up?”

“Listen, officer, could we go back this way? I was supposed to meet my brother, and I seem to have misplaced him.” “Looking for reinforcements, eh?” “No,” Gaelen said, stopping and turning, only to freeze as he found himself staring down a blunt, blue steel barrel. He stepped back. “I think he can help us work all this out. I hate to waste your time, you see.” “Sure, you're a regular humanitarian. Get going. We'll take the elevator here.” They were back in the psych ward, its normal hum of activity resumed. Gaelen turned his head, back and forth, looking for Lucas's russet head. The doors squeaked open and again the officer urged him forward with a poke in the ribs. “Wait,” Gaelen said, becoming more anxious now. “Nurse!” he called to a passing woman in a flowered scrub suit. “Where is Dr. Duncan?” “Dr. Duncan left about a half-hour ago.” “Where did she go?” The nurse narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “What business is it of yours?” “I'm her boyfriend. I was supposed to pick her up for a hot date.” “You said you were waiting for your brother,” the officer reminded him, poking him again. “Stop that! It was a double date.” “Really?” The woman's eyes passed over Gaelen's form, evaluating him. “At eight in the morning?” “What difference does time make to a man in love? So, where did my sweet Linette go?” Gaelen asked again. He put on his best leer. “I'm a little anxious to get her alone.” The nurse smiled. “Dr. Duncan is transporting a couple of patients this morning.” “Transporting?” Gaelen asked, a chill running down his spine. “Which patients?” “I don't really know.” The nurse's forehead wrinkled as though she was trying to remember something. “I should, though, shouldn't I?” She wandered off, shaking her head. “Damn. Pixie-led.” “What?” the officer asked. “What are you talking about?” Gaelen didn't answer. As he got on the elevator, he silently kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Every mortal being on the whole floor was pixie-led. Linette had bewitched every one of them, so they wandered the halls, not seeing anything Linette didn't want them to see.

And he'd left Lucas all alone in the midst of it. During the ride down in the elevator, Gaelen wondered if he should try to escape. He weighed the danger of revealing himself and just getting the heck out of here. Time was wasting, and Lucas and Erin would soon be on a plane to Ireland. He had no illusions that Linette would bother taking them to New Jersey to let the North American Council take care of the matter. Not to mention that now he needed help, and there was nowhere to get it. Annabelle.He'd need a mortal to break the enchantment that would no doubt have been placed over Erin to make her manageable and compliant. But to enlist Annabelle's aid, he'd have to reveal to her his nature. He wasn't sure he was able to handle that. The blunt barrel of the pistol again punched Gaelen in the kidney. “Get movin', buddy,” the officer said, his tone announcing growing irritation. For now, there was nothing else to do but accompany the officer to the main security office. With luck, he could get this cleared up and get on with his business. CHAPTER ELEVEN

Annabelle wandered along a hallway, a fog of confusion around her head. She'd felt it settle over her as soon as she'd gotten off the elevator and couldn't for the life of her remember why she was here. She couldn't even remember where she was. Nothing looked familiar, though the place looked like a hospital. And didn't Mom come, too? Where was she? Twisting around and walking backward for a few steps, she passed an elevator where the doors were just closing. A tall man with wheat-gold hair leaned against the wall inside, an expression of supreme irritation on his very handsome face. Gaelen. The fog parted, still making it hard to think, but wispy and less confusing. Seeing Gaelen reminded her where she was. “Erin.” She continued along the hallway, letting her gaze pass over the whole area, trying to orient herself. “Yes,” she whispered. “Erin is in ... this room.” Pushing open the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. Approaching the bedside, she was at first relieved to see her sister sleeping so soundly. “Just like a log,” Annabelle whispered with a little smile, a smile that faded as she realized how true her words were.

Erin lay on her back, arms stiff at her sides. Her face bore no expression, no small smile at a pleasant dream, no frown of discomfort as she rolled over to get more comfortable. In fact, she lay ... just like a log. Stock still, only the slow movement of her chest up and down showing the figure in the bed still lived. Afraid to, afraid not to, Annabelle gently set her hand on Erin's shoulder and shook. “Erin, honey. It's me. It's Annabelle, sweetie. Wake up.” Erin slept on. Annabelle slumped in the chair by the bed, a deep sigh escaping her. What had happened? “Erin, please wake up.” Her plea went unanswered. A sudden chill rippled through her.What if...? She couldn't finish the thought, and fought it, not allowing her gaze to leave her sister's body, as though by keeping the connection she could keep Erin here. “Please don't die, Erin. Don't leave me.” Erin lay so still, Annabelle was struck with the memory of her father's death. She'd been there when he passed, keeping her tears banked up while he struggled for a breath. Even at the end, though, he'd been himself. He'd tried to soothe her pain, making her smile in spite of herself as he whispered"Whatcha gonna do?" These simple words were his motto for getting through the bad times in life. Whatcha gonna do?Just get through it and go on. Staring at Erin's still form, Annabelle felt the dread of another loss. Sure, the doctor hadn't said anything about Erin being in danger of dying, but Annabelle couldn't escape the fear that she was about to lose her sister forever. Her silent vigil was interrupted by the scrape of the door opening. “Here you are,” her mother's voice broke in. “I've been looking for you. Annabelle, I'm so worried. I think I might be getting senile.” Her Mom's smooth brow wrinkled with concern. “I couldn't remember where I was. I couldn't remember anything.” “Here, sit.” Annabelle got up to give her mother a seat. “Don't worry, Mom. The same thing happened to me. We're just worn out and exhausted by all this,” she said, as much for herself as her mother. Smiling, she smoothed her mother's hair in a gentle caress. “Do you think Erin might be right? You think the hospital has been taken over by aliens?” Mom smiled wryly, relieving Annabelle's mind somewhat. If she could see humor in this, she'd be all right. “Aliens, huh? Maybe, but I felt more like I was being pixie-led,” Mom said. “Pixie-led? What's that?” “Oh, that's when the pixies confuse you, so you wander around and can't find your way.” Pixies. A sense that she was on to something raised the hair on the back of her neck. “Look, dear. A firefly.”

Annabelle turned to her mother, then followed Susan's gaze toward the window. A flicker of light beat against the glass, just like the first night—was it only three nights ago? —when Erin had sworn it was an alien coming to abduct her the same way they'd taken Lucas. But they hadn't taken Lucas after all. The firefly tapped at the window. Flittering, tapping. Flying away in a circle, only to return and tap again. Almost like it was a code. She stared at the window. “Isn't that odd?” Susan asked. “Almost like he's trying to get in.” She sighed deeply and turned back to Erin, laying her hand on Erin's hair and sweeping the tendrils back. “My poor baby,” she murmured. Susan sighed again, shuddering this time, the anguish breaking Annabelle's heart. She knelt by her mother's side and wrapped her in a hug. “Don't worry, Mom. She'll be all right.” “I'm trying to believe that, dear. I'm trying.” Believe. Annabelle's eyes were drawn back to the window, where the firefly still tapped against the glass. Susan should go home. She needs to rest. You can stay with Erin and look after her. Eyes blinking in amazement, Annabelle listened. The voice speaking to her. It was Gaelen's. “Gaelen,” she whispered. Yes, love, it's me. Send your mother home. We must talk. With no more thought about it, Annabelle took her mother's hand, her writer's instincts concocting the words to accomplish what she wanted. “Mom, it looks like it's going to be a very long vigil. The doctor doesn't know when Erin will come out of this.” She tipped her head so she could catch Susan's eyes, still fastened on Erin. “Why don't you let me take the first watch?” Susan opened her mouth to protest. Annabelle cut her off. “I promise I'll call you if there's any change at all. Please, Mom?” She laid her hand on her mother's arm. “Let me do this for you.” ~*~

It had been a small matter to squoosh when the officer wasn't looking and flicker out of the office. Now, Gaelen hovered by the window, watching as Susan nodded with supreme reluctance and rose from the

chair. He turned his attention away from the sight as she bent over to leave a kiss on the abominable thing that had been placed in Erin's bed. When he got his hands on Linette Duncan, he'd.... It was times like these Gaelen was very glad he'd lived among mortals for so long. Fairies, in spite of the myths and rather inventive tales, were larger-than-life creatures, both in size and temperament. They loved deeper, hated hotter, sought revenge and romance with greater determination, mourned with greater heartbreak than mortal folk. Only twenty years of hiding his nature had taught Gaelen how to control it. So, he took his fairy-sized anger in hand. There'd be time enough for that later, when Lucas and Erin were home safe. Then ... then, he'd make sure there was reckoning for this. He pushed to the side how much of his desire for revenge was for Annabelle's sake. It was such a connection with a mortal female that had started this whole mess in the first place. He returned his attention to the window in time to see Susan go to the door, glance back with longing pain at the thing imitating her daughter, then leave the room. Stay there, love,he told Annabelle silently,I'm coming. She heard him. She turned toward the window as she had before, the look on her face not one of disbelief, as he'd feared, but amazement. And what was amazement, but another form of discernment? His spirits rose as he flew to the top of the building and slipped into the air conditioner ducts, which were fortunately not operating right now. A quick dart down to the eleventh floor and out into the hallway, slowly, so as not to flicker and attract attention. He floated at the door to Erin's room briefly, seeking some idea of the mood inside. Then he flew around the corner, stopped, and unsquooshed. “Whew!” One hand on the wall to steady himself, the other raised to check the time, Gaelen caught his breath. As he paced the distance to Erin's room, he wondered how he could explain to Annabelle. How could he tell her what he was? How could he explain the nature of his nature? And would shebelieve ? Or would she take his tale as grist for a story in her tabloid rag, one that would lead to ridicule and derision? Andexpressed disbelief. Such a reaction from the extensive audience ofThe Weekly Investigator would set up a wave that would rock Faerie to its foundations. Yet, what other choice did he have? Lucas would never leave without Erin. He'd never allow her to be held captive in Tir-Nan-Og forever. Gaelen would not allow his brother to be held either. The only answer was to fight this, and get them both out. There had to be a way to sway the Great Council, to get that damned law rescinded. Even with this determination, he paused when he reached Erin's room. Beyond the door was a woman who could either help him or destroy them all, even if she didn't mean to. Time's a wastin', he thought as he pushed open the door.

~*~

Annabelle heard the door open, but couldn't turn away from Erin. She lay there so still, so quiet, not even a twitch in her sleep. “Annabelle?” Gaelen's voice, surprising as it was, didn't startle her. She'd expected him, could almost remember him telling her he was coming, to wait for him. Annabelle turned toward him. He waited, his hands slightly raised. Was he offering to hold her? He must have seen the question in her eyes. He raised his arms higher, open, waiting. She stood up, not knowing if she could even take the two steps to bring herself within his protective embrace. Gaelen must have seen that, too, because he took the steps necessary and enfolded her, holding her against him, seeming to absorb into his own body the shaking of hers. He was so warm, so solid, and his arms felt so good around her, she just gave up trying to be strong. “I'm sorry,” she said, wiping at the wet spot on his shirt where her tears had soaked through. “Don't you dare apologize, darlin'. I'm here, and we'll make everything right.” His arms tightened around her and he breathed deeply. She looked up at him. “You're so sweet to be so concerned about Erin.” He squeezed her tighter, then he pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket. “Here.” He wiped her eyes and held the handkerchief to her nose. “Like a good girl, now.” Obediently she blew her nose. He folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket, then sat on the side of the bed while Annabelle again took her seat in the ugly plastic chair. A rueful chuckle escaped her throat. “I never knew where the saying came from before, but I do now.” “What saying?” “You know the one. Sleeping like a log?” The strangest expression crossed Gaelen's face, unbroken by even a trace of a smile at her little joke. His sky-blue eyes flicked over to the bed, then away. Annabelle could have convinced herself she saw disgust on his face. “Love, I have something I have to tell you. Look at me.” The tone of his voice forced her to obey him, her heart beating with dread. “Annabelle, do you remember when you were a young girl,” he started, “maybe, twelve or thirteen or so, you heard a ruckus from the back yard, the tool shed? You went out there. Do you remember seeing something?” His pause was full of uncertainty she could actually feel. “Something unusual?”

“How do you know about that?” “Just tell me what you remember seeing.” “I can't talk about that now, Gaelen.” “Please, darlin', remember and tell me.” Spurred by the urgency of his voice, she pulled up the memory, trying to see the fantastic vision again. “I saw a boy, maybe five or so years older than me. He was crouched in the corner of the shed.” She felt her blush zoom up her face. “He was, ah, naked.” Did Gaelen blush, too? “Yes. What else did you see? What was there out of the ordinary?” In a flash, the picture appeared in her mind. The handsome boy with wheat-gold hair and eyes as blue as the sky. He grimaced as though in pain. Behind him, spreading wide and tall, maybe three feet higher than the top of his head. Iridescent, twinkling, with transparent tissue, the colors changing. They twitched, just like.... “Wings.” “Aye, love, wings.” He reached for her hands. “Do you remember thinking it wasn't real?” She'd forgotten that part. It did seem like a dream, like a memory you couldn't trust. “How do you know that?” she asked again. Again he dodged the question. “Tell me. What happened to the boy when you thought he wasn't real?” The picture again flashed into her head. The boy bent over, a grimace marring the perfection of his features. Believe. Please, believe. The boy's words had shocked her. And she'd been certain then, that he was indeed real. She'd forgotten about his nakedness and went to him, offering him help, which he accepted gratefully. “You believed. You saved him because you believed.” He knelt down by her chair, setting his knuckles under her chin, tipping her face up to meet his gaze. “You savedme , Annabelle. That boy wasme .” “It was you?” She knew it was the truth. “You were in pain,” she said simply. With a nod, Gaelen said, “It doesn't matter now. You did me a kindness that night. I never got a chance to thank you.” He raised her hands to his lips, kissing each in turn, first the backs, then the palms. “Thank you.” “You're welcome,” she whispered.

“I owe you a great debt, Annabelle. My kind never forget a kindness.” “You don't owe me—” He placed his finger over her lips. “Shhh. But I must ask you for another favor first. Annabelle, what I'm about to tell you, you must promise me you'll believe with your whole heart. You must promise you will never, ever divulge to any living person what you are about to learn, nor what you will see in the days to come.” Her dread grew greater. “What's going on, Gaelen? Lucas hinted at some terrible things and secrets and danger. Danger to Erin.” She grabbed his sleeve. “You tell me right now.” “I must have your promise. Everything depends on it. You will never divulge....” “I promise!” she cut in. “Tell me.” “You'll believe?” “I said I promise....” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. “I'll not tell you a word until I know you understand how serious I am. My existence, the existence of my people, depends on it. You must believe.” He frightened her then, the intensity of his stare, his strong fingers digging into her shoulders, the way his voice trembled. “I believe. I promise I will believe.” Gaelen relaxed his grip and leaned back on his heels. “I'm sorry, love. Did I hurt you?” “No,” she lied. “Tell me,” she said. This time it was a plea, not a demand. With a single nod, he rose and walked around to the other side of the bed. She noticed he kept his eyes averted from Erin, the fleeting glimpse of disgust she'd seen before, again appearing, only to disappear so quickly she wasn't sure yet if she'd really seen it. “This isn't Erin,” he said. Annabelle's eyes flicked between his face and Erin's. “What? Of course it is.” “No, dearest, it isn't. They've taken Erin.” “Who? The aliens?” she asked sarcastically. Gaelen's chuckle bore no humor. “Not like you mean.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a crystal bottle from his jacket pocket. “Here, let me put some of this on your eye.” Annabelle instinctively recoiled. “What is it?” He smiled wryly. “I'll tell you after you see what it does.” He cocked his head at a questioning angle.

“Remember, you promised....” Leaving his reminder hanging, he raised one hand, index finger extended and on the tip, a tiny drop of an ointment. She nodded and turned toward him, sitting very still. Gaelen gently laid his finger on the inside of her right eye, next to her nose, letting the ointment flow in. “Blink,” he ordered. She did, and a soothing, cool film crossed her eye, from inside to outside. Gaelen set his hands on the sides of her head, blocking her view of the bed and her sister. “Now. You don't strike me as a flighty-headed girl. But what you're about to see will frighten you. You must not scream or cry out. Do you understand?” “Gaelen, this is getting very scary.” “I know, dearest, but this is the worst part, I promise. After this, you'll have the adventure of your life.” He smiled and caressed her cheek, running his fingers through her hair. “Ready?” “No,” she said with a little laugh, reassured by his smile. “You're sure this is the worst?” He seemed to think about it before answering. “I hope so, dearest.” “You promised.” “Aye, that I did. Then I promise again. This is the worst part.” “All right. I'm ready.” “Look at the bed again.” He'd made such a production of the whole thing that she was truly terrified. Then she chided herself for her fear. What could be so awful? It was Erin. Wasn't it? Gaelen said it wasn't. Annabelle gathered her courage and turned her gaze leftward, back to the bed. Her left eye saw first. Erin lying still and quiet as death. Then as she turned her head all the way around. In her right eye—the one Gaelen had put the ointment in—where she expected to see Erin, just like she did in the left.... A gasp escaped her. She jumped up, shoving the chair backward to fall over with a scrape of plastic and metal. A scream blossomed in the back of her throat, and she clamped her hands over her mouth to hold it in. The door opened. A nurse stuck her head in.

“Ms. Tinker? Is there anything wrong?” Gaelen ducked behind the bathroom door, his gaze telling Annabelle to say something clever. She couldn't even think for the terror crowding out everything else in her head. She looked to Gaelen for help. He rested his head on his joined hands, closing his eyes. Sleep. An embarrassed giggle escaped her. “I'm so sorry. I must have drifted off to sleep and had a nightmare. I hope I didn't disturb anyone else?” “No. That's fine. Visiting hours are over, you know. I'll have to ask you to leave.” “Certainly. I'll just get my things.” The nurse smiled in understanding. “We'll call you if there's a change.” “Thank you,” Annabelle said, making a big show of gathering her jacket and purse. Gaelen waited until the door closed behind the nurse to come out of the bathroom. Avoiding the thing in Erin's bed, Annabelle stared hard into his eyes. “What's going on here, Gaelen?” “Come on, we'll go where we can talk.” He took her by the hand and dragged her from the room. Neither of them looked back at the bed. CHAPTER TWELVE

He drove her to his small house on the outskirts of town. It sat in a pricey, yuppie neighborhood lined on both sides with modern, space-efficient, identical houses, sided in gray timber to give them a weathered look that fooled no one. Her first thought was Gaelen didn't belong here. He escorted her into his home with a warm grip on her elbow. Without a word, he put a kettle to boil on the countertop electric stove in the immaculate kitchen. She pulled out a stool from the table height kitchen bar and watched him take a ceramic teapot and a tin of loose tea from the cupboard. Gaelen's eyes didn't meet hers all the while he moved around the kitchen, his large frame dwarfing the small appliances. When the water boiled, he poured a little into the pot, swirled it around, then spooned in four spoons of tea. After filling the pot with boiling water, he stirred four times—she watched him counting—counterclockwise. “Quite a ritual,” she said softly, to break the silence more than anything else. He smiled, finally looking into her eyes. “Aye. If it's worth doing....” His grin spread wider, taking in his whole face.

He pulled a white, orange and green knitted cozy over the pot, then took a seat across the kitchen bar from her. While the tea steeped, they sat in renewed silence. The tea filled the air with a scent of comfort, warm and soothing. “It's a long story, you know,” he began. “Long, long.” “Tell me.” He glanced at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Aye, lass, I will. Tea first, though.” Turning away from her, he got cups and saucers and spoons and an unopened package of Girl Scout shortbread cookies. “My neighbor sells them for his daughter,” he explained. “I feel obliged.” “You don't have to explain. I love them,” Annabelle replied, happy for any conversation, even banal conversation. She took one of the trademarked shapes and bit off the top leaf of the stylized three-leaf clover. Gaelen held one up in front of his face, almost like a blessing, and he laughed. “What's so funny?” Shaking his head, he poured milk into the cups then strained the tea in. He set the cup and saucer before her. “Why are you stalling?” she asked. After placing the sugar bowl within her reach, he sighed. “Because I'm frightened.” He stirred his tea and she waited. She wasn't sure she wanted to push him to go on. “There's nothing for it, though,” he finally said. “We don't have much time and here I am wastin’ it.” He set the spoon down, then lifted up his cup, downing the tea in one gulp. Annabelle did the same, in spite of the fact it was still scalding and even though she loathed tea. Gaelen drew in a large breath and poured them both another cup. Then he began. “What is in Erin's bed at the hospital is a fairy changeling.” He snorted in derision. “And not a very good one at that.” Remembering his warning that she had to believe, Annabelle squashed an urge to giggle at the idea. Instead she asked, “A changeling? What's that?” “It's a very old, very effective trick. For centuries, when fairies needed a mortal for some reason, say, as a wet-nurse for a fairy infant, or maybe just because a child was particularly lovely, a substitute would be placed in the mortal's crib or bed, and the real mortal would be taken to Faerie.” “What kind of substitute? What I saw was a piece of wood.” He nodded. “Yes, beech, I believe. Beech makes the very best stock for a changeling. In the old days,

sometimes a sick fairy child or a grumpy old one was put in the mortal's place.” Annabelle knew she was staring, her mouth hanging open, disbelief painted across her face, but she didn't dare express it. Something in Gaelen's fervent demand that she had to promise to believe made her stay quiet, pushing the questions away. Gaelen glanced at her. She saw lines appear at the corners of his eyes and his lips tighten. “Do you believe?” “Yes,” she answered. He drew a breath. It seemed to her to be shaky. “Here goes,” he whispered. Annabelle was certain his words weren't meant for her. Then he turned to her. “Annabelle, Lucas and I ... we're not ... like you. We're not mortal.” He watched her, seeking a reaction. She could almost hear him asking her again"Do you believe?" She nodded, in answer to his silent question. “I'm a fairy.” ~*~

Annabelle didn't say anything at first. She stared with warm brown eyes probing deep, seeking for truth. At least she didn't laugh, he thought. He was already feeling weak. His worst fear was realized. Her belief wasn't strong enough. “Annabelle,” he pleaded. “I believe you,” she said, too quickly. “Lucas is a fairy, too.” It wasn't a question. He began to feel stronger. She was getting over her initial reaction. She wasn't going to let him down. “Yes. Lucas, too. Linette Duncan—” “Thedoctor , too?” “No! No way. She's a pixie.” Annabelle smiled. Gaelen braced for another bout of weakness. When it didn't happen, he knew her smile had another source. “What?” he asked. She actually chuckled. “She looks like a pixie, doesn't she?”

Gaelen found himself smiling with her. “Yes, she does. Though she's a tad taller than most pixies are.” He brought himself back to the point. “Lucas broke a law of our people when he fell in love with Erin. It's forbidden to have such doings with mortal folk.” “Why?” she asked, an expression of concern. “How could anybody be against love?” Gaelen looked long into Annabelle's restful, comforting eyes. “To love a mortal is to invite revelation of our nature. Whenever we reveal our nature, the natural reaction of too many rational mortals is to discount us. And as you've seen, disbelief, skepticism, weakens us. The stronger the disbelief, the greater the danger, until we're gone.” A gasp of dismay escaped Annabelle's lips. “Gone?” He nodded. “We'd disappear into nothing. Oblivion.” Horror exploded in her eyes. “No! That's not possible. Why would your existence depend on what anybody else believes?” He shrugged. “I don't know why. I only know the truth. Whenever skepticism touches us, we begin to weaken. Like just now.” “Now?” Wrinkles of confusion creased her brow. “What skepticism is there here now?” “When I told you I'm a fairy. You didn't believe.” “Of course I did. After all, Gaelen, I saw your wings.” “You don't have to pretend. I felt—” “Whatever you felt is your problem, Dr. Riley. I know what I believe. And I believe you are a fairy.” She leaned forward. “Now where did that quack pixie and her two thugs take my sister?” Rather than explore the rather dangerous topic of belief, Gaelen made his best guesses. “There are two possibilities. Ireland to the Elders, or she may have taken them to New Jersey.” “New Jersey?” “To the North American Council headquarters. It's in Teaneck.” “You're kidding. New Jersey?” “No. What's wrong with New Jersey?” “Never mind. We'll start with New Jersey, and if she's not there, we'll go to Ireland.” Annabelle stood and held out her hand and closed her eyes. “I'm ready.” Gaelen stared at her for a moment, not at all sure what she meant. “Ready for what?”

“Let's go. Let's fly. I'm ready.” Again she assumed the close-eyed stance, chest thrust out at a most appealing angle, hand extended. “You can't fly.” Peeking from underneath her eyelids, Annabelle frowned. “What?” “Dearling, you can't fly.” “Wait just a minute, now. You're telling me you're a fairy. Spread your wings and let's go.” “Annabelle, my wings are not how I fly. They're only decorative. Like a peacock's plumage.” “Oh, please.” “No, I'm serious. It really isn't very scientific of you either.” A smile spread over his face and he chuckled. “Wings.” “Scientific? After what you've just demanded I believe on blind faith, and you have the gall to callme unscientific?” “Of course. You don't think we can simply flout the laws of physics, do you?” Jaw open, Annabelle stared at him in utter disbelief. Not the killing kind, fortunately. “What?” she finally choked out. “Can we discuss this later? We don't have a lot of time.” “How are we getting to New Jersey, then?” “We'll fly, of course.” Annabelle narrowed her eyes. “On a plane, Annabelle.” “Oh, a plane. Right.” “I'll make the reservations. Then, we've got to go huntin'.” Gaelen turned toward the kitchen junk drawer where he kept his phone book. While Annabelle had another cup of tea, Gaelen made two very expensive reservations for the next morning. Then, he grabbed a plastic grocery bag and motioned to her. “Let's go, dearling.” Gaelen hustled her into his car and drove them back to the campus, pulling off South Road into the Bell Tower parking lot. “Here we are.” He peered out the windshield toward the sky. “A waxing moon. Very nice. Bring the bag, will you, love? And let's hope they haven't cut the grass lately.”

They got out and Annabelle followed Gaelen as he marched into the middle of the grassy field bordering Kenan Stadium. Annabelle had spent many hours here with her dad on Saturdays watching his beloved Tar Heels play football. It was a pleasant memory. Gaelen knelt, raking his fingers through the grass. “What are you looking for?” she asked in a loud whisper. “Four-leaf clovers. We need that bag full to make enough ointment.” Annabelle held up the grocery bag in front of her face. “You're kidding, right?” “Nope.” He bent back to his search. “A bag full of four-leaf clovers?” “Yes.” Gaelen glanced up, a frown furrowing his brow. “Well? Are you going to help me? Or are you going to just stand there with the bag up in front of your face?” Again he returned his attention to the ground. This mess is finally taking its toll, she thought.He's cracked. “Gaelen,” she said softly, approaching to kneel down beside him and laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. “There aren't enough to fill a bag in the whole world. I've been looking my whole life and never found one.” “Never? Then you didn't look long enough. There's at least one per square yard of clover.” He raked through another group. “That's in a normal field. This isn't a normal field, however. Aha!” With a sweep, he grabbed a handful of tiny green plants and held them up for Annabelle's inspection. “I don't believe it,” she whispered, gazing in stupefaction at the mass of four-leaf clovers in Gaelen's hand. “Look at them all!” “Don't be tellin’ me my business, my dear,” he crowed with a smug smile and dropped to his knees, plucking and pulling. “This field is smack dab in the middle of the campus. To the north are the chemistry and physics departments. Right there is the medical school and the hospital complex.” He paused from his hunt to point at the squat brick building. “You know what that means, don't you? Radiation galore. I've always found more four-leafers here than anywhere, even in Ireland.” Annabelle glanced around. “Shouldn't we be, I don't know, protected?” “From what?” He chuckled at her nervousness. “Oh, no. It's not near dangerous levels. Only just enough to enhance the magic.” Gaelen bent back to searching for his prizes. He was so unconcerned that Annabelle had to believe it was all right. Besides, this was a college town, full of environmentally aware professional people. Once caught up in the excitement, Annabelle joined him, cheering with every four-leaf version she found. But even this thrill grew old as her knees started to ache and her legs to wobble. And she could see by

the fat, bright moon, her fingers were beginning to turn green. “Gaelen,” she asked, “I thought three-leaf clovers were lucky.” “No. They're too common to be lucky. You know about the story of Patrick don't you? How he used the three-leaf clover to explain about the Trinity?” Picking a clover, he held it up, frowned and tossed it away. Suddenly, the truth struck her. Gaelen wasn't human, not mortal. Where did he fit in the universe? “Do you believe in God, Gaelen?” “Of course. You don't take me for a right heathen, do ye?” Another handful went into the bag. “We're God's creatures, as well as you are.” Something else, though nothing as profound as eternity, was bothering her. “Why can't you make me fly? You know, like Peter Pan helped Wendy?” “That was just a story, Annabelle,” Gaelen said, laughter covering his words. “But—” “And Sir James, for all his talent, had no more idea about fairies than any normal mortal.” She had to chortle at that. “Still, youare like Tink.” “Oh, please!” He rose on his knees and pinned her with an expression of supreme indignation. “At least get your terminology correct. Tinkerbell is a pixie. I am afairy .” He glanced at the plastic bag lying by her knee. “How are we doing?” “Almost full,” she said, a little amazed. He walked over on his knees and took the bag and peered inside. “You're sure you've only put four-leafers in there? Three-leafers will weaken the mix.” Annabelle nodded. “What are you going to do with them?” “I need more of the ointment I put on your eyes. I used the last drop when I showed you the changeling.” He shivered a little as he said the word. “This should be enough.” Once again Annabelle followed him to his car. After a quick stop at a drug store for mineral oil and a burger joint for a quick and very late dinner, they were back at his house by ten. Fifteen minutes later, Gaelen had a pot full of four-leaf clovers simmering on the stove, lid tightly clamped down. Exhausted from the long day, Annabelle was content to sit at the counter and rest her chin in her hand and watch. She didn't know she'd fallen asleep until the clanking of crockery jerked her awake. “Sorry.” Gaelen grinned at her as he poured the boiled clover into the bowl. “Why don't you go lie down? Take my bed, and I'll sack out on the sofa when I'm done here.”

Annabelle rubbed at her eyes. “No. I'm okay. I want to help.” “You're sure?” At her nod, he smiled and said, “Okay. Hand me that spoon,” he asked her, pointing. Annabelle handed him a spoon, but not the wooden one he'd indicated. “No. That one.” She did as he asked. “What's the difference?” “That spoon is stainless steel. It's got iron in it.” “Oh. So?” “Iron breaks magic.” He turned to her. “Didn't your dad teach you anything?” “About what?” “About Faerie. About us.” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying, my dad...?” “No, he wasn't a fairy. If he had been you would be.” “And he wouldn't be dead.” “You don't know that. Fairies die, too, only we live a lot longer...” He thought for a moment. “Maybe just more leisurely than mortal folk. But, anyway, your dad was what we call a favorite. In the old country, after we went into hiding, favorites were people who could see us. They'd leave some milk in the jug, fresh water by the door, a loaf of bread, the coals warm on the hearth.” “And all this time I thought he was leaving out milk for the cats.” Gaelen smiled. “We favored such a house by making sure the crops weren't destroyed by weather, or keeping watch over the animals, or giving gifts to the children.” While he talked, he pressed the clover into a paste. When it was just the right consistency, he added a generous amount of mineral oil. Waxing-moon clover was powerful enough to stand a little dilution. For what he planned, he'd need plenty. “So, my dad was a favorite?” Gaelen nodded. “He was.” “Why didn't I know? Why wouldn't he say anything about something so wondrous?” Unaccountably pleased she considered him and his kind to be wondrous, he asked, “Did you ever ask him?” He saw it in her eyes, the regret, the loss. Like so many mortals, she'd not seen until it was too late, how important it was simply to ask a question now and then.

They were silent as he spooned the ointment into the crystal bottle. “Here, look at this,” he said, applying a tiny drop to her eyes. When she'd blinked, he spread a thin layer on her hand. The ointment was especially good. Her hand disappeared in a twinkle. Annabelle's scream pierced the air. “Shhh!” His hissed injunction was ridiculous. She couldn't hear anything except herself. Gaelen placed his hand behind her head and pulled her to him, covering her shrieking mouth with his. Her scream died, replaced by a sigh. Her arms went around his waist, holding on. His arms went around her, molding her to him. Her lips were soft and tender, dewy and sweet. He knew he'd never tasted anything more delicious. A million years of such kissing wouldn't be too much. Maybe two million years.... The shock of the thought made him break away from her. Gaelen stepped back, letting his arms drop and forcing hers to release him. He'd never had to do anything that was harder. Brown eyes flickered with uncertainty. “What did you do that for?” she asked. He really didn't know. His initial reaction was he wanted to and that was that. Fairies had no great use for delayed gratification. But Gaelen had thought himself beyond that. Clearly you could take the boy out of Faerie... Annabelle's question required an answer. “To shut you up. I don't want my neighbors thinking I'm running a white slavery ring in here.” Hurt flickered across her eyes. Had she wanted to know why he'd stopped? If he'd answered the wrong question, her recovery was quick. She covered up her unease with a laugh. “What a story. College professor by day, sadistic abuser of innocent young women by night.” She glanced at him with a sly smile. “What do you think? It's a good filler for page ten.” “At least it's not about fairies.” Annabelle held up her invisible hand. “So what happened to my hand?” She touched her unseen fingers. “It's the ointment,” Gaelen replied, glad to have something else to talk about. “The ointment works a couple of ways. It allows mortals to see things of Faerie. It makes mortal things invisible to those with the

Sight, like fairies and mortals who've gotten hold of the ointment. So, now,” he touched her treated eye, “from this side, you see like a fairy does.” “You can't see it either?” He shook his head. “How long does it last?” Gaelen shrugged. “Depends on the ointment, the clover used to make it, the amount of dilution, the phase of the moon.” In spite of himself, he raised his gaze to hers. “The person it's used on.” Leaning against the counter, Annabelle asked, “How does it work?” Gaelen was grateful for her attempt at safe conversation. “A physicist friend of mine tried to explain it to me. Something to do with the way the molecules bend light and the wavelengths....” Gentle, invisible fingers pressed against his lips. Her eyes twinkled. “Gaelen, maybe, it's just ... magic?” Magic, indeed. His nature urged him to take what he wanted from her. Now. Making the choice for herself, Annabelle leaned toward him, her tender lips just a kiss away from his. Gaelen waited for her to come nearer, sweet anticipation making delay bearable. Her lips parted a bit, luring him closer. Her breath brushed against his mouth, souls touching before lips. Annabelle stopped, her eyes opened, flashing sudden uncertainty. She started to back away, but Gaelen leaned toward her, sweeping his lips across hers, a taste promising much more to come. Her uncertainty disappeared and her brown eyes smiled, shining pure sunshine into an unused, dusty part of his heart. For his soul, Gaelen couldn't remember why kissing her had been a bad idea. He leaned forward, eager for another taste. Annabelle met him halfway. Almost. A flicker of light flashed between them, tingling their lips in its wake. Annabelle jumped, her invisible fingers flying to her mouth. Both their heads followed the twinkle of light as it flew into the small bathroom at the end of the hallway. “What was that?” she asked. Gaelen huffed with indignation. “Impeccable timing,” he muttered. He ignored Annabelle's question and stalked down the hallway to the bathroom. “What is it?” Annabelle asked again, following closely behind. “E'mail.” Gaelen stood before the sink and leaned forward, breathing onto the mirror, making a fog. The words, fuzzy and indistinct at first, grew clearer in the misty surface. “Wow,” Annabelle whispered. “That's so cool.”

With a chuckle, Gaelen studied the message. His humor turned to outrage. “The damned treacherous pixie! The deceitful, nasty, ill-tempered...” “What?” Annabelle asked, her voice filled with concern. “What is it?” The message was written in Irish, so he gave her the gist. “It's from Eochy, the chairman of the North American Council. He's heard from the Elders that Erin and Lucas are being delivered to Ireland. I've been ordered to stay out of it now.” “Tell me what that means.” “It means I have no authority in the matter. Linette went over my head.” He turned and leaned on the sink, struggling against the sense of utter doom. “In New Jersey, I would have had a chance to do something. Now, facing the Elders ... damn.” “We'll just go to Ireland, then.” “Just like that?” he asked, admiring her ferocity. “Yes. You know where they've gone?” “Sure. They'll have gone to Knockma. Finnvarra loves spectacles.” In answer to her questioning gaze, he explained. “Finnvarra is the king of the fairies of Connacht, the most powerful of the fairy kings. He has a ... fondness for mortal women, especially pretty, young ones like Erin,” he added, more to himself, than to her. “But you said it was against the law...?” “Finnvarra is king,” Gaelen said, cutting her off. “He does what pleases him.” Annabelle frowned, her precious twinkling eyes flashing. “That's ridiculous. Is he above the law?” “Yes, but the lasses he seduces aren't similarly favored. They end up paying the price for his weakness.” Her indignation turned to apprehension. Clearly she understood the price might well apply to her own sister. “What price?” she asked after a long pause. Gaelen hesitated telling her. To him, it was a hellish thing, yet a mortal might not think eternal life with no responsibility such a horrible punishment. She grabbed his sleeve with her still invisible hand, silently demanding an answer. “There is only one penalty fairy folk impose for breaking the law against seducing mortal folk. Banishment to Tir-Nan-Og, the Land of Perpetual Youth.” As he'd expected, she muttered, “Doesn't sound bad.”

Gaelen turned away from her, disappointed in her reaction, and walked slowly back to the kitchen. He felt her following, her bare feet making no sound on the polished wood floor. She didn't say anything, but he felt her watching him, waiting for his explanation. Back in the kitchen, he picked up a damp cloth, sprinkled salt on it and reached for her invisible hand. He held her hand while he wiped off the ointment, making her hand visible again to him. He held on as he told her what she wanted to know. “Imagine taking a week, or two, or three, for a vacation. You've handed over your work to a colleague, your cat to a neighbor, and put your mail and newspaper on hold. You travel to a place where the weather is always perfect. You want sun; you get sun. You want a gentle shower, or a wild thunderstorm, that's what you get. In this place, every wish is granted, every desire satisfied, every hunger fed. You play, run, walk, fight, and never get tired. This place reaches deep down inside you and pulls out by the roots all your ideas of what beauty is. Sunsets and flowers and music. Ah, Annabelle, music that makes you laugh with joy, or cry tears from a place so deep you never even knew it was there. It gives you sleep of such peace you may as well be dead, but you're not.” Annabelle said, “Isn't that what Heaven's supposed to be like?” “Heaven is for eternity. We have no idea what it's really like. But Tir-Nan-Og is here now. Any mortal who experiences these things is trapped there forever, dearling. Even if he gets away, there is no escape, for Tir-Nan-Og lives in his memory, enticing, seducing, forever. A mortal who has been taken prisoner in Tir-Nan-Og, even if it's in his mind only, can no longer focus on anything outside it. Every thought is of the Land of Perpetual Youth, and the joys to be lived there.” He frowned. “It's one of the most irresponsible things my kind does, you see, bringing a mortal to our place, then making them leave. But it's worse than that, for if a mortal becomes enchanted, he can no longer survive out here in your world.” “You said Erin would be kept there forever.” He shrugged. “Maybe. Fairies are known for being unreliable in their promises.” “So, you're saying she might be taken there, but she'd be released someday?” He nodded, “Yes, but she'd not be the Erin you know now. She'd be,” he paused, seeking exactly the right word, “unfocused, unable to cope.” An expression of sublime horror settled on Annabelle's face. “You mean she'd be like Mom.” She dug her fingers into his arm. Her fear made her voice tremble. “Gaelen, we have to get her out of there.” It wasn't a question. The question lived in her eyes, pleading with him. “You promised me Erin would be all right.” Doubt clouded her eyes. “But you said a fairy's promises were unreliable.” Gaelen set his hands on her shoulders. “Perhaps I should have saidsome fairies's promises. Just like some mortal's. You have my word.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering, inhaling her sweetness for a moment. Unfortunately, a moment was all he had to spare. “Come, now, let me take you home so you can pack a few things. You won't need much. Do you have a passport?” “No,” she replied, panicked.

He squeezed her shoulders and rubbed up and down her arms. “Don't fret about it. I'll take care of it.” “How are you going to take care of a passport?” “My sweet Annabelle, I'm bruised to the bone. Have you forgotten to whom you speak?” With a wink, he turned her toward the front door. She followed his direction clearly exhausted. He got her in the car. Almost as soon as he'd backed the car out of the drive, she was asleep. Gaelen let her sleep. For sure the poor girl needed what rest she could get. “Annabelle,” he whispered, as he stopped the car in the Tinker driveway. Her breathing was still steady and deep. Gaelen got out and walked around, opening the door gently and scooping her into his arms. He kicked the door shut and carried her up the walk to the front door. He realized she didn't have her purse and grumbled for forgetting it. “Well, man, how are you going to get inside?” He was digging through his memory for magic to open a lock when Annabelle mumbled, “Key's in the pot.” Gaelen looked around, then noticed the potted plant beside the door. He stooped down and settled Annabelle across his lap while he fingered in the pot for the key. “Thank you, darlin'. We're quite a team, aren't we?” He was rewarded by a sweet, sleepy smile as she snuggled on his shoulder. Using the key, he opened the door and carried her inside. There was no sound in the house, so Susan must be asleep. “First door on the right,” she muttered, snuggling again, even closer to him. “Yes, my lady.” He took her to her room and laid her on the bed. After he took off her shoes, he pulled a light cover over her, tucking it in around her as though she were a child. Standing by the bed, he gazed at her, marveling in the softness and steel that formed her character. She'd not turned tail nor quailed from the task at hand. He was fortunate to have such a partner as Annabelle in this business. “Good night, love,” he whispered, bending over to lay a kiss on her forehead. Annabelle opened her eyes. “You still haven't told me your plan.” “We'll have all the time we need on the plane to discuss it. Go back to sleep. I'll call in the morning to let you know about our flight.” “I'm sorry, Gaelen.” “For what?”

“If I were a fairy, too, we could fly there, couldn't we?” “I suppose. But we'll get there just the same.” Her eyes fell closed and within a minute, she was again breathing deeply. He slipped out of the house, relocked the door, repotted the key—making a mental note to scold Annabelle and her mother for putting a key to the house in such a predictable place—and got back in his car. As he drove home, he pondered the feelings that had blindsided him. No, that wasn't true. He'd felt it from the first, the draw, as though she held a string attached to his heart, and she could play him out like a kite and bring him in close as she willed. Now, this whole business had long since gone from simply ridding his brother of an unfortunate connection to a quest to be performed for Annabelle. It was no longer enough for him to get Lucas out of trouble. Erin also had to be freed, because Annabelle wanted it. He knew it wasn't possible to contemplate a life with her or any mortal woman. He'd carefully shielded himself from any entanglement with them. They were far too much trouble. But he owed her a debt. “Sure'n, that's it. I'm just feeling grateful for her good deed.” Even as he reassured himself his attraction was temporary, based on gratitude and the shared worry over their siblings, he knew it was a lie. “Once we've gotten Erin and Lucas out of trouble, she'll go back to New York, and I'll be here, and we'll never see each other again. No problem.” Sure, no problem. No problem except for the emptiness already filling his soul. “No time to worry about that now, Gaelen,” he nagged himself. “Instead, think about the cost of two business class tickets to Ireland.” CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“But, Annabelle, Erin is in the hospital, in a coma. How can you possibly think of running off now?” Tossing in another pair of panties and zipping the suitcase closed, Annabelle tried to be patient with her mother. “Mom, I promise you, if this wasn't for Erin, I wouldn't go. I can't explain. You'll just have to trust me.” “At least tell mewhere you're going.” Gaelen had warned her not to give too much away, and Annabelle struggled for a moment, trying to judge what to say. But her mother needed to know at least this much. “Ireland,” Annabelle said simply. “Ireland?” Susan grabbed Annabelle's wrist and held her tight. “Why?”

“I can't tell you.” Susan's gaze bore into Annabelle's. “It's them, isn't it? They took my baby.” “Them?” Annabelle repeated uncertainly. “The Good Folk.” She dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed. “They're so careless with people's feelings. First, me. Now, Erin.” Annabelle felt her heart slow down. “Mom, who are you talking about?” “The fairies.” “What do you know about the fairies?” When Susan looked away, Annabelle grabbed her shoulders and turned her. “Tell me.” Susan met Annabelle's gaze and chuckled. “Now I guess you'll want to put me in a home.” Annabelle had to smile in return. “We'll see. Tell me about the fairies.” With a sigh, Susan nodded. “All right. But I swear this is the gospel truth. No matter how it sounds.” She got off the bed and went to the window, staring out as she so often did. “When I was young, even younger than you are now, dear, I was as straight-headed and focused as you are.” Susan glanced back with a rueful smile. “You don't believe that, do you?” Annabelle wouldn't admit she didn't. Susan turned back to the window and went on. “The summer I was twenty-two, I was dating your father, but it hadn't gotten serious, yet. I was on vacation in Ireland with a couple of my friends. See, we'd decided we'd have a tremendous fling, just once, before we settled down.” Though her plane was due to leave in just a couple of hours, Annabelle knew this story was important enough to hear out. “Go on, Mom,” she encouraged Susan. “The second night we were there, I ran into a friend of Vern's. I'd met him a couple of times before. He was very handsome, though a little short for my taste then, and he strutted like a bantam rooster and spoke with the most alluring accent. So confident and sure of himself.” A ghost of a smile shadowed Susan's lips as she returned to that time. “Eochy O'Shea was his name.” The name hit a chord of memory. Where had she heard it before? “What happened?” Susan didn't look up. “He was very attentive and so, so, seductive.” A quick glance toward Annabelle revealed Susan's sudden unease. “I won't go into all the lurid details.” “Why not?” Annabelle sat up, eager to hear the lurid details.

A warm laugh eased the tension. “Because I'm your mother, and I'm not supposed to do things like that.” “You. And he...?” “Um-uh,” Susan nodded. “I abandoned my friends, and Eochy and I were together constantly for the whole fourteen days. The last night before I was supposed to leave for home, Eochy asked me if I wanted to see something wonderful.” Her mouth tightened in a ruefully humorous line. “I thought I already had.” “Mom!” “He told me I could never tell a soul what he was about to show me. And, of course, I promised.” “What did he show you?” “Eochy stood in the middle of the floor and, as he stood there, a light sort of blossomed around him like a flower, then, out of nowhere these wonderful, beautiful, translucent—” She glanced at Annabelle. “You'll think I'm crazy, but I know what I saw. He had wings.” “Wings?” “Youdo think I'm crazy. Poor silly Susan.” “I believe you, Mom.” “Sure you do,” Susan said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “Don't patronize me, Annabelle.” Annabelle had never heard her mother speak in such a tone. “I do. Really.” She sat on the bed and leaned forward. Susan studied her, then she went on. “He told me there was even more. He made me close my eyes, and then he put his arms around me and warned me not to look until he said to. I felt lighter than a feather, and then I felt a breeze on my face.” A light of wonder shone on Susan's face. “When I opened my eyes, we were in a large hall. There were rows of tables loaded with food and wine and so many beautiful people, dressed all in gold and silver sitting at the tables. And oh, the flavor of the food....” She sighed. “The people danced and laughed and sang. They welcomed me as though I was one of them. The musicians played the most beautiful music. I can't even describe it. It made me laugh and cry, and finally I fell into a wonderful easy sleep. When I woke up, we were back in the hotel in Dublin. It might have been a dream, because it seemed to me I had been there for a long time, but it was the same day when I woke up.” Another deep breath of longing seized her. “I guess it doesn't matter if you believe me, anyway. I'm not sureI believe me. But Vern did.” Somehow, Annabelle wasn't surprised he had. Dad was a favorite, after all. “You see, I had to tell him. I couldn't make up anything to explain how I'd changed.” Her eyes clouded

and unutterable sadness lined her face. Annabelle felt a tug of dread. Her mother was getting old. Too soon, she, too, would be gone. “I didn't want to leave that splendid place. I begged Eochy to take me back to stay forever. But he refused.” Susan faced Annabelle. “From that time to this, I've been different. I can't put my mind to anything. I'm always, still, thinking of that place where I saw wonders and loveliness beyond imagining.” She turned away, gazing out the window. “I yearn to return there, to see and hear and taste like I did that day. And it will never be.” As though she'd forgotten Annabelle was there, Susan stared at nothing. Annabelle waited, seeing her flighty, unfocused mother in a totally different light. The reflection of a light from a totally different world. Susan began to hum, a light tune, but one carrying an undertone of sadness, loneliness, yearning. Annabelle's hand covered her own heart to press away a knot of sympathy. “So, so beautiful,” Susan murmured, still staring out the window. Then, her eyes widening, lips parting, Susan jerked around, grabbing for Annabelle's arm. “You're going to Ireland?” she asked, as though their conversation had never taken its unexpected turn. Annabelle nodded, unable to form words. “Yes.” Susan nodded wildly, her gaze locking with Annabelle's, her grasp on Annabelle's wrist tightening to a painful grip. “Yes. Go. Get Erin out of there before they do the same thing to her.” Annabelle barely had time to get her hand on her suitcase before Susan jumped from the bed and dragged her from the room and down the hall to the front door. “I will, Mom,” Annabelle promised. “Wait.” Susan left Annabelle standing by the open front door and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned in a flash digging in her purse. As she pulled out her hand, a wad of bills crumpled between her fingers, her face wrinkled in concentration. “Here, take this.” Annabelle looked between the money to her mother's face. “Mom, I have money.” “No. Take it.” Susan pushed the money into Annabelle's open shoulder bag. “You don't know if you might need it. Do you have a credit card? Oh, what about tickets?” “Gaelen took care of the tickets.” Until that moment, Annabelle hadn't even thought about how much it must have cost. “Gaelen?” Susan lost her fiery determination. Her eyes drifted from the frantic focus on the danger to Erin to the far-off place where—Annabelle now understood—she'd lived for so many years. Go. Get her out of there before they do the same thing to her. “I'll get her out, Mom. Will you be all right until I get back?” “What?” Susan asked. Just as Annabelle was about to panic at leaving her alone, Susan gritted her teeth and drew a deep breath. “Yes, I'll be fine. Go.” She wrapped Annabelle in her arms and hugged her

tight, then released her abruptly. Not quite reassured, Annabelle picked up her suitcase and stepped out the door. “Tell Gaelen I'm counting on him.” Before Annabelle could turn to acknowledge her mother's words, the door closed with a gentle click. ~*~

She'd never considered Gaelen might have bought business class seats. Even on her occasional business trips,The Weekly Investigator never coughed up more than coach. They'd have had her fly in the baggage compartment if they could have. “Ah, Ireland,” Gaelen whispered. He leaned over her to look out the window. “What do you think, lass?” Annabelle wasn't thinking about Ireland at all. Gaelen's deep voice rumbled through her like a lover's caress. She turned away from him, pretending to look, then found herself staring out the window at the emerald shimmering in the ocean. “It's so beautiful,” she finally replied. “Aye, ‘tis that.” Unable to stop herself, Annabelle let her gaze meet his. His eyes traced her face, so closely she felt the heat. “Not so beautiful as you.” Gaelen leaned closer, his lips parted slightly, and Annabelle knew he was about to kiss her. She anticipated the contact of his lips with hers. Closer and closer. “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the seat belt sign in preparation for our approach to Shannon Airport.” Gaelen sighed deeply. “Such timing.” “Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. Return your trays to the upright and locked position. And welcome to Ireland.” As the flight attendant continued her speech, Gaelen fastened his seatbelt, his eyes avoiding Annabelle's. He didn't say anything more beyond pleasantries as they gathered their carry-on bags and prepared to deplane. Annabelle followed him off the plane and down the concourse.He appears to know the airport very well , she thought, as she followed him through the airport. He strode assuredly, not even looking at the signs. They stopped at the baggage pickup and waited long minutes before the buzzer and flashing red light signaled the long conveyer's movement. Still, Gaelen said nothing. When they'd gotten their bags, they approached customs.

“Stay with me and don't look at anybody.” He turned to her. “But don't look like you aren't looking.” “How are we—” “Shhh!” They approached the line and quickly got to the front. At a signal from the customs agent, Gaelen stepped forward and pulled two blue tourist passports from his breast pocket, which he handed to the agent. Annabelle cut Gaelen a troubled glance. Gaelen reached for her hand, pulling her arm to link with his, stroking her fingers possessively. “Is this your and your wife's first visit to Ireland, Mr. Riley?” Annabelle's eyes widened. Gaelen's gentle stroking motion on her fingers suddenly tightened in a warning. “Ach, no,” he answered, a thick brogue mixing with his words. “I'm an Irishman born. My little wife here, though, is a poor benighted Yank. I'm for bringin’ her to meet me auld mother in Galway.” “Galway, is it?” the agent replied with a smile. He then spoke some words unintelligible to Annabelle. The man had an expectant expression, almost as though he was looking for something. It hit her the man was testing Gaelen. He saw through the faked passports and the phony story. He thought they were terrorists coming to blow up something for the IRA. She couldn't help it. Her eyes flew up to Gaelen's face. He showed no dismay at all. “Hmmm. Connacht? North Mayo?” The agent's mouth dropped open. “Yes. That's right. How did you know?” Gaelen made a reply as unintelligible as the agent's original question. The agent stamped both passports and handed them to Gaelen. “Here you are, Dr. Riley. Welcome home.” He smiled at Annabelle. “And I hope you enjoy your visit to the auld sod, Mrs. Riley.” “Thank you,” she responded automatically, stunned by what had just happened. “Thank you, sir. Come, dearest,” Gaelen said, picking up their two bags and leading Annabelle away from the counter. She remained silent, hustling to keep up with him, until they got to the front door. “What did he say to you?” “'Do you have anything to declare?'” Gaelen replied with a smirk. “Thought to trap me, did he? My people were speaking Irish before his people crawled out of the caves in Europe.”

“Why would he want to trap you?” “Who knows? Maybe he thought we were IRA gun runners with two suitcases full of plastic explosive.” He turned to the left and led her down a corridor. “We'll get our rental car and then we'll head toward Knockma.” “Where did you get those passports?” “Shhh!” he hissed, frowning. “Not here.” “Okay! Don't be so touchy.” He glared at her and approached the counter. Feeling a little bit put out by his short temper, Annabelle stood at his side while he signed for the car he'd already reserved. “You're a lot more organized than I would have been,” she said, trying to get some friendly conversation started again. “How did you get so much done in such a short time?” He finally gave her a smile, changing his serious expression in an instant. “Organization isn't a particular gift of my people. We have to work on it.” The rental car agent held out a key. “Go through that door at the end of the corridor, sir, then to the left. The valet should have brought your car up by now. It's a red Mercedes.” Annabelle jerked around, staring in disbelief. “A Mercedes?” “No need to suffer, is there, lass?” He winked at her and picked up her suitcase again. He was through the automatic doors before she could catch up. She glanced toward the left as the woman at the rental car desk had instructed. No Gaelen. “Gaelen?” “Pardon me, miss.” Annabelle landed a foot away from where she'd been standing. The man who'd appeared at her side smiled kindly, partly relieving her fear. “I apologize for givin’ you a fright,” he said, his pearly teeth flashing in the twilight. “I'm lookin’ for a friend of mine, and I wonder if you might have seen him.” Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief and returned his smile. “I'm sorry. I'm a tourist. I'm afraid I can't help you.” The man's charming smile thinned. “But you can, Miss Tinker.” Her surprise at his knowing her name was drowned in terror as he wrapped his arms around her. “Don't fight, lassie. We won't hurt you.” “Let me go, you gorilla!” Annabelle kicked and screamed, “Gaelen!” Where are all the people?she wondered frantically, looking around for help. This was an international airport after all. And where was Gaelen?

“Hold still, girl. You're only raising a ruckus for nothin'. Quiet now.” She twisted herself around. “Take your hands off me!” The man lifted her off the ground and started walking off with her. “Come on, Frank. The doc's waitin’ in the car. Hurry along with the colleen.” “I'm trying to, but she's fightin’ like a wild thing. Here, give me a hand.” As the one called Frank set her on her feet to get a better hold, Annabelle took her chance. Opening her mouth wide, she sank her teeth into Frank's hand, biting like a pit bull. She shook her head, tearing his flesh. “Holy Bridget!” he howled. In an instant, she was free and falling. She landed on all fours on the sidewalk just as a familiar voice called her name. “Annabelle! Here, run!” Raising her gaze from the concrete beneath her hands, she saw Gaelen behind the wheel of a red Mercedes convertible with the top down. Like a sprinter out of the blocks, she darted across the road toward the open car and jumped over the door into the car. A shot of pain speared through her shoulder as she whacked the gearshift. Her head landed in Gaelen's lap. Hard. “Owww!” Their howls ripped out in unison. The car shot forward with Frank and his friend grabbing at her arms, her heels, her hair, anything to get hold of her. “Holy Sod, woman!” Gaelen squirmed in his seat, letting up on the gas and reaching over with one hand to help her drag the rest of her into the car. “Have a care, will you?” Uncharitable words remained unspoken on her tongue as Annabelle scrambled to twist herself around. She raised her hand to her stinging shoulder. “Will you just get us out of here?” Obligingly, Gaelen hit the gas. The airport buildings faded to a blur. Annabelle gasped a breath before turning to Gaelen. Pulling back her hand, she slammed him in the shoulder. “Where the hell were you? Did you see those men? They tried to kidnap me!” “I saw them. Why do you think I ran for the car?” “And left mealone ?” Her anger masked the hurt. “They could have kidnapped me and taken me, God knows where.” “Oh, I know where. Straight to Finnvarra in Connacht.” He stopped at an intersection and looked both

ways. “Which way?” he mused, too quietly to be asking for her opinion. “Direct is best, I suppose.” With that he turned right out of the airport. “Finnvarra.” Annabelle remembered the name. “You mean the old lecher who kidnaps young girls?” “The very same,” Gaelen replied. “We—the fairies, the Tuatha de Danan—divided Ireland into five kingdoms. We're in Munster right now; Connacht is a little bit north of here. Each one had its own king, both above, that's the Irish, and below, that would be us.” “Below? Below what?” “Below the ground. When the Irish came, their chief druid, a huckster named Amergin, made a deal with my folk. We'd split the land right down the middle.” He chuckled. “After we agreed, Amergin revealed that he meant dividing it this way....” He took one hand off the steering wheel and made a horizontal slice through the air. “They got what was on top of the ground. We got what was underneath.” “Your people agreed to that?” “Indeed. Of course, they were also doin’ us in on the battlefield at the time. We didn't have so much bargaining room as we'd have liked.” To Annabelle, it seemed the kind of underhanded dealing that would have its victims demanding reparations, even centuries later. Gaelen's apparent humor struck her as odd. “You think it's funny?” “Don't you?” In spite of her indignation at his people being taken, a smile spread across her face. She then made the mistake of glancing at Gaelen, whose smirk spread wider, and then they were both laughing. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh....” “Why not? It's funny. Of course, it won't do to laugh about it in public. Some of my folk take this way too seriously.” He chuckled as they both calmed down. “You have a wonderful laugh, you know. Makes a man want to join in.” Suddenly self-conscious, she didn't even know what to say. Did you thank someone for complimenting something you had absolutely no control over? Trying to get their conversation to a more comfortable place, she asked, “Do you know the men who grabbed me at the airport?” Gaelen gave her a suspicious glance. Annabelle smiled to herself. He heard her subtle reprimand for letting her fall into danger. Satisfied with getting her dig in, she added, “They looked familiar.” “Yes, you've seen them before for certain. They work for Linette Duncan. They're the brawny laddies who hoisted me off the roof of the hospital.” “What?” She turned in her seat. “Aye. You saw me falling by Erin's window. You ran out with a security guard...?”

“Oh. Right. That was you. How did you manage...?” “To survive?” he finished for her. “I can fly. Remember?” “Oh, that's right.” Annabelle's chuckle drew out, extended into a jaw-cracking yawn. A heavy blanket of exhaustion settled over her. “Sleep, darlin'. We'll soon be in Connacht, and we can find a place to light for the evening.” He took her hand as he spoke, squeezing gently. With his reassuring words, Annabelle stopped fighting and drifted to sleep. CHAPTER FOURTEEN

'Tis welcome you are to Killis, County Roscommon. Seat of the fairy king of Connacht, Finnvarra. The bright green, clover-shaped sign brought a smile to Gaelen's lips. “Here we are,” Gaelen whispered to Annabelle, who snored softly, her head resting on his shoulder. “And here's a B&B. Convenient, isn't it? Just a little while longer,” he promised and dropped a kiss on her hair. He pulled off the street and onto the shoulder of the road in front of a narrow two-story house. A coat of whitewashed mud daub gleamed in the moonlight. Windows reflected the light, shining Irish eyes in the skeletal white face the house appeared to be. Even the thatched roof added to the impression, neatly trimmed as a fresh haircut. Gaelen chuckled at his fancies and gently moved Annabelle so he could get out. “Be right back, darlin'.” “Okay.” Her muttered reply was almost inaudible, and she snuggled against the leather of her seat. Gaelen approached the front door. As his knuckles rapped against the wood, his fairy soul recognized it as rowan. He frowned. That was odd. People normally didn't use sacred wood for doors. The door swung open. Expecting to see a welcoming face on the other side, Gaelen was surprised to see no one. The heavy door rocked fully open, cracking against the wall behind it. Feeling the presence of magic, Gaelen stepped back and instinctively closed his mind, shielding himself. Unfortunately, his protection also protected whoever—or whatever—was on the other side of the door. “Come in, good sir. My home is honored to welcome you.” Gaelen stepped over the threshold, wondering who would know the old welcome, but more importantly, who would know his true nature and welcome him in this way. An old woman sat by the fire. “Come, sir, come. I pray you take no offense that an old woman sits in yer presence.” “Of course not, mother. Take your ease.” He came nearer the fire, studying the woman as he did. “I was

told this is a house of hospitality. May my wife and I find shelter here?” “One of the Good Folk may always find hospitality in my house.” The woman dipped her head. “You and your lady wife are welcome, sir.” Gaelen was taken aback somewhat. Few mortals had the discernment to recognize fairies anymore. “You know what I am?” The woman cackled. “Sir, the sight of the truth is free to any who dare grasp it. Only the fearful hide from it. Your people have only been kind to me. Bring your wife, sir. I will make your chamber ready.” The old woman grunted as she tried to rise. Gaelen jumped to offer her assistance. She looked up at him and smiled a toothless grin. “I thank ye, sir. A right gentleman you are.” “It is my pleasure to serve a kind lady.” “Ach, get on wi’ ya. Go get your wife and bring her in from the cold and damp. Does a body no good to be out on such a raw night.” She toddled off toward the stairs, taking one at a time, but making fine time of it nonetheless. Gaelen found Annabelle still sleeping soundly. He opened the door and took her into his arms. “This is getting to be a habit, isn't it, dearling?” he whispered into her ear as he kicked the door shut. He carried her in, careful of both their heads as he eased through the short, narrow doorway. “This way, sir.” The old woman waved gnarly knuckles at him, summoning him up the stairs. “I've stirred the fire for you. ‘Twill take off the chill.” The old woman stood aside as Gaelen carried Annabelle into the room and settled her on the inviting double bed. “A lovely lady.” The old woman studied Annabelle's face. “One can see her goodness on her face.” “Yes,” Gaelen agreed. He turned to the woman. “Thank you, mother, for your kindness. I'll not forget it.” The old woman smiled and waved a dismissal. “'Tis I who am grateful, sir. My late husband and I, we've been treated well by your people. ‘Tis an old debt.” “Then we continue the circle,” he replied with a smile. She nodded. “Indeed. Good night, sir, and to your lady wife, as well.” Shuffling into the hallway, she pulled the door closed behind her. He shook his shoulders, relaxing the tension he hadn't realized had settled there. Not really knowing why, he went to the door and pressed his ear to the wood, listening. Setting his hand around the old-fashioned, cut-glass doorknob, he turned it slowly and opened the door a crack. He peeked out into the hallway. Was his so helpful benefactress waiting outside? He stuck his head outside and looked both up and down the hallway.

Empty. Gaelen silently shut the door and leaned on it. Only then did he release the breath he'd been holding. Why did he have such an uneasy feeling? Maybe because he had to rely on his senses. He hadn't realized he'd been using his powers so unconsciously. Once he'd closed off his mind from her, hers was also unavailable to him. So, he had to take her at face value. It was an uncomfortable feeling. How did humans stand it? Gaelen turned to the bed where Annabelle lay. She'd rolled onto her side and tucked her hands underneath her cheek on the snowy white, eyelet-lace pillowcase. He watched her eyelids flutter, the cool blue of her aura soothing his own troubled mind. Knowing he was taking a huge chance, Gaelen lay down beside her, breathing in her scent. Clean and fresh like a spring rain, it swirled around his head, seeking out those places he'd shut behind a steel door, places where he couldn't ignore what he was, where he belonged. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, letting his own life force mingle with hers, and taking solace from her. Annabelle snuggled against him, spoon-fashion, causing him a wonderful, tormenting ache. Shutting his eyes, he tried not to examine his feelings, even as he knew what it was he felt, lying there holding her close. Alive. ~*~

“Wake up, dearling.” The soft voice, touched ever so softly by an accent warm and alluring, stirred her hair and tickled her ear. Annabelle swiped at the irritant and snuggled against the warm comfortable body behind her. A large hand gently shook her shoulder. “Come now, sleepyhead. Time to get to work. We have a lot to do today.” Annabelle blinked sleepily, her bleary eyes taking in her strange surroundings. The warmth behind her invited her to snuggle closer and remain in bed. So, she did. “Annabelle.” The grating voice sounded pained. “Please, darlin', don't do that.” The warm body moved away. “No,” she moaned, rolling over. “We must prepare to get Erin and Lucas, sweetheart.” Erin. That woke her up. She opened her eyes, glancing around to get her bearings. Gaelen leaned over her.

She wondered if she'd dreamed the warmth of a big masculine body behind her on the bed. Had Gaelen slept with her? Their eyes met. Annabelle looked away first, heat filling her cheeks. “Where is this?” she whispered, her voice still wakeup scratchy. “Killis, in County Roscommon. Not very far from Finnvarra's court.” “Finnvarra,” she repeated, the whole sorry story coming back to her. “So, we're here.” “Your turn in the bathroom. It's across the hallway.” He stepped away from the bed. “We have some shopping to do after breakfast.” Annabelle got out of bed, only then realizing she was still in the clothes she'd traveled in.At least he hadn't undressed her , she thought. She crossed the room to her suitcase sitting on a rack. As she neared, Gaelen stepped back as though she were on fire and he was afraid of getting singed. “What's the matter?” She thought it was a reasonable question. “Nothing. Why would you ask that? Nothing's the matter.” He took another step backward, giving her more room to pass. Annabelle stared at him, wondering why he was acting so squirrelly. Suddenly the memory of a big, warm body pressed against her—or had she pressed against him? —flashed across her brain. Their eyes met for an instant before he looked away. Annabelle grabbed her overnight bag and a set of clean bath linens neatly folded on the oak dresser. Without a word or a glance at Gaelen, she dashed out of the room to the bathroom across the dark, narrow hallway. She brushed her teeth and tried to wash away the fatigue of the long flight and her worry about Erin. Leaning against the sink, Annabelle thought about where she'd been—had it only been yesterday? —with her sister in a hospital being treated for a mental problem. Now she was in Ireland with a man who claimed to be a fairy. She stared into the mirror at herself, disbelief suddenly crowding her mind. Why the heck had she bought that ridiculous story? A fairy, for Pete's sake. “Pete. Peter.” Peter Pan. Where all this nonsense had started. Fairies and pixies and Irish tales. That's all this was. And she'd fallen for it. She straightened up from the sink to march back across the room, preparing her copy, what she'd say to Doctor Riley for making a fool of her ... and froze with her fingers wrapped around the doorknob. What stopped her was the memory of the horror of looking at the hospital bed where Erin lay. No, not Erin, but something pretending to be Erin. And Gaelen's urgency that she had to believe him and his

story. And the way he'd made her hand disappear. And how she'd screamed. Annabelle tried to ignore the memory of the kiss he'd used to effectively shut her up.It hadn't meant anything to him , she told herself. Not a thing at all. But, and she was sure of this, Gaelen had been lying in that bed with her this morning, molded along her back and legs as closely as her shadow. She was also sure she could trust him. He'd told her the truth and he'd save Erin. He promised. Hanging onto his promise like mountain climber hanging onto the last strand of a fraying rope, Annabelle gathered her things and crossed the hallway. She hadn't seen where they'd stopped last night, and expecting a hotel, she was surprised by the homey feel. Then she realized it was a house, somebody's private home. A woman's voice trilled a mournful, wordless tune, seeming to call out to her. A need drew her to see the person who owned the voice. She descended the stairs halfway and peeked around the wall. Her gasp escaped before she could stop it. The small pixyish figure jerked and turned from the fireplace. Annabelle ducked around the corner, catching her breath, not daring to even whisper the words on her lips. Linette Duncan. What was she doing here? Why would Gaelen bring her to the woman who'd taken Erin? Annabelle shook away the vision of the hunk of wood in her sister's place. It still unsettled her that she hadn't seen the truth for herself. “My dear?” The voice wasn't Dr. Duncan's, but the scratchy squawk of an old woman. She heard the shuffle of feet in soft slippers coming closer and in a panic dashed back up the stairs to the bedroom. Ducking in, she slammed the door and leaned up against it as though to hold demons at bay. “What is it?” Gaelen asked, his brow furrowed. “It's her,” Annabelle whispered. “Who?” “Dr. Duncan.” “What?” Gaelen took two steps and was standing before her. He grabbed her shoulders and shook, not gently. “Where is she?” “Downstairs, by the fire.” He pushed her aside and jerked the door open, stomping across the threshold and out into the hallway. “Gaelen, stop,” she called after him.

He headed down the stairs. Annabelle became frantic, thinking of the two large orderlies who'd followed Dr. Duncan around like Rottweilers. How could they get Erin freed if they were taken prisoner? She dashed out behind him, grabbing her shoes on the way. Gaelen had already reached the foot of the stairs and was talking to an old lady. He glared up at Annabelle. “Come down, dearest, and meet our hostess.” He reached for her hand and jerked her down the stairs. “Annabelle,” he said with a pointed look, “this is Mrs. O'Hara.” “A pleasure, my dear.” The old woman offered her gnarled hand to Annabelle. Gaelen squeezed Annabelle's hand in warning. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. O'Hara.” Annabelle took the gnarled hand in hers. It was warm, alive, and it felt real enough. “You gave me quite a fright, my dear. I was thinkin’ there be spirits hauntin’ my attic.” The woman's eyes glittered as she spoke, and Annabelle didn't trust her at all. This old crone was Linette Duncan in disguise, she was certain of it. “I apologize for giving you a start, Mrs. O'Hara. I think I must be more tired than I thought.” Mrs. O'Hara waved away the apology. “Dinna give it another thought, dear.” She tottered back to the fire and reached for a huge wooden spoon in a kettle hanging over the fire. “Now, some breakfast is what you'll be wantin'.” Annabelle was about to declare her lack of appetite when Gaelen grabbed her elbow and nearly dragged her to the trestle table and plunked her down on the bench. She favored him with a glare, only to have hers rendered useless by his glower. So a glower trumps a glare, she thought. “Ah, some porridge would be the thing for sure.” Gaelen cheerfully plopped down beside Annabelle, his arm easily going around her waist. He pulled her closer and leaned to her ear. “Be nice.” She turned to him, only the warning in his eyes making her keep her resentment to herself. “Here you be, sir.” Mrs. O'Hara placed a wooden bowl full of steaming gray paste in front of Gaelen. “And for you, Missus.” She set a similar bowl in front of Annabelle. “Thank you,” Annabelle said, trying to smile. “Ah, this smells wonderful,” Gaelen said, taking a big spoonful of the stuff and shoving it into his mouth. Annabelle thought he was a bit too effusive. Besides, she never under any circumstances ate oatmeal. Especially oatmeal that reminded her of school paste gone bad.

“Annabelle, dear, try the oatmeal.” Gaelen took another spoonful, unbelievably smiling around the mess. She opened her mouth to explain how much she detested oatmeal in any form when he glared at her again. “Thank you,” she said, accepting her fate. Raising a spoonful of the stuff, Annabelle touched it to her lips, wondering why Gaelen thought it so important for her to eat the damned oatmeal. Was he just humoring their hostess? So why make Annabelle suffer in the meanwhile? The pasty goop sat on her tongue, refusing to be swallowed. She glanced aside at Gaelen shoving in another huge mouthful and sending it down with apparent gusto. Refusing to be defeated by a grain, Annabelle raised her teacup and drank some full-bodied, Irish breakfast tea. It softened the oatmeal grapeshot and allowed her to squash it enough to send it down her gullet. Gaelen's bowl was nearly empty, giving Annabelle a wonderful idea. While Mrs. O'Hara's back was turned, she upended her bowl over Gaelen's. “Um-umm.” Annabelle pushed her empty bowl away with great drama. “That was the best oatmeal I ever ate, Mrs. O'Hara.” She turned to Gaelen, eyes wide. “Darling, I thought you loved oatmeal. Why aren't you eating yours?” She placed her palm against Gaelen's forehead. “Aren't you feeling well, sweetums?” “I'm fine,” he replied. She fancied she could actually see his words, marching out of his mouth dark and menacing. “Thank you for your concern, lamb-cakes.” “I'm so glad, snookie-bear. I'd hate for you to miss all this beautiful Irish countryside. Are you sure you feel well enough to go sightseeing, poopsie?” “Yes, angel smacks, I'm sure.” He dabbed a linen napkin at his mouth and rose from the trestle table. “Mrs. O'Hara, thank you for your hospitality.” “It's my pleasure, sir. Will you be back for supper, then?” “I don't know.” “No,” Annabelle answered at the same time. She smiled to take the edge off her refusal. “That is, we wouldn't want you to wait supper for us.” “'Twould be no trouble a'tall.” “In fact, Gaelen, dear, why don't we check out now?” She nudged his arm. “Just in case we find ourselves in another town tonight?” “Our business is right here in Killis, Annabelle.” He turned back to Mrs. O'Hara. “We'll be back tonight, ma'am, but we probably won't be here for supper.” “As you will, sir. Good luck with your business.” Mrs. O'Hara tottered around the table picking up

dishes and paid no mind to Gaelen dragging Annabelle out the door. “Will you tell me what the hell's the matter with you?” he yelled in a whisper. “What's wrong with me?” Annabelle yanked her arm from his grip and stopped, forcing him to stop as well. “That woman is Linette Duncan and you didn't see through her disguise!” “Who said I didn't see?” he replied, as he resumed walking away from the house. Annabelle trotted to catch up, nearly running to keep up with his long-legged stride. “You mean you saw her?” “Of course.” “When did you see her?” “Well, I didn't actually see her, but I knew there was something up as soon as I set foot inside the house. She was sitting there like Sarah Bernhardt, thinking to fool me with her lame-brained attempt at putting glamour over on me.” He spit a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a curse. “Of course she had some help. No pixie is going to be able to do anything like that by herself. No sir. That was fairy work, that was.” He stopped and grabbed her arm again. Annabelle yelped. “Let me go! That hurts.” She wrenched her arm free. Gaelen ignored her complaint. He stared at her. “When did you see her?” “This morning. When I came out of the bathroom, I heard a woman humming and I wanted to see who it was.” “Did she talk to you?” “No. I ducked back when she looked up.” Annabelle got uncomfortable under his steady gaze. “What are you looking at?” He ignored the question and started down the street again. Annabelle dashed after him and followed him as he cut into a shop. “Good mornin’ t'ya, sir.” The shopkeeper stepped from behind the counter, obviously drawn to the rich tourists who'd just entered his store. “What can I help you find?” He glanced around Gaelen's bulk and smiled at Annabelle. “I need a box of salt and an iron knife.” The shopkeeper tilted his head, studying Gaelen closely. “Iron, is it? Well, sir, the most reasonable priced knives I have are stainless steel.” “Price isn't a problem. Iron, please.” The shopkeeper returned behind his counter and opened a case. Annabelle watched as the man reached into the display case from the back and set his fingers around dagger that had the appearance of age. The

six-inch blade was of a dull metal, rusted around the edges. “Will this do, sir?” The shopkeeper held it toward Gaelen, who stepped back from it. “Yes. Wrap it, please.” The shopkeeper turned away without a word and wrapped the dagger in butcher paper. When he brought it to them, he handed the dagger to Annabelle. “Salt,” the shopkeeper muttered as he pulled down a box from an upper shelf. He turned back to Gaelen. “Anything else, sir?” “No, that'll be all.” “Who you be huntin', sir?” “I'm not huntin’ anyone. I know where they are.” The shopkeeper grinned. “Aye. I thought so.” He totaled their purchases and set them on top of the counter. “Seven pound, fifty.” As Gaelen pulled the cash from his wallet to pay, Annabelle took the items. “You don't have a shopping bag, Miss?” the shopkeeper asked. Annabelle shrugged. “No.” “Here,” he said, pulling a sack from behind the counter. “You Yanks never have a shopping bag.” He packed their purchases in the bag and handed it to Annabelle. “Good luck, sir. It's been a long time since we've had such goings-on. ‘Twill be good for the tourists.” Gaelen grimaced and turned without another word. Annabelle took her cue from him, but did give the helpful shopkeeper a small smile. Once on the street, Gaelen sighed. “Will you talk to me?” Annabelle said. “Didn't you hear him? He's hoping for a tourist attraction. Damn. Just what we don't need.” He strode on, muttering under his breath. “I'll kill my little brother for bringin’ this on us.” “Why?” “I already explained this to you. Disbelief is deadly to us.” Gaelen glanced around, lowering his voice as they were approached by other shoppers this bright Irish morning. “Imagine how much damage could be done.” “I still don't get this, Gaelen,” Annabelle puffed, trying to keep up with him and talk at the same time. “How can you be disbelieved into nonexistence? You're real.” He stopped, and Annabelle was several steps ahead of him before she stopped.

“What is it now?” She was getting just a little bit irritated by his mood. “What did you say?” “I asked you—” “Not that, before.” She had to think. “Oh, you mean about you're being real?” “Yes.” He looked away, his eyes on some spot way beyond the scene before them. “I'm real,” he said, as though trying to convince himself. “That's right,” Annabelle whispered. “How can what anyone else thinks make you less than what you are? It just doesn't make any sense.” Gaelen chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. “I told you what I am, and you're looking for sense?” “You're the one who's been trying to explain things scientifically, remember? Squooshing atoms and bending light around the molecules of that ointment to make things invisible? So how is this any different? Tell me, have you ever seen anyone disbelieved out of existence?” Gaelen frowned. “No.” “Well, there you go.” “That doesn't mean anything. We've been careful.” He started walking again toward the rented Mercedes. “Besides, I don't want to test it.” Annabelle thought that was exactly what was needed here. But she couldn't honestly say she didn't believe just so she could test Gaelen's theory. So she followed him, deciding to let him have his way, for now. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Gaelen slammed the trunk lid down. Their purchases would be much safer here than inMrs. O'Hara's house, even if she weren't Linette. Of course, he'd lied to Annabelle about seeing the spiteful pixie in her old lady get-up, and he was more upset than he cared to admit that hehadn't seen through it. If he hadn't let himself get spooked last night, he wouldn't have shielded himself from her, and her from him. He'd played right into Linette's hands. She knew his sense of self-preservation. She'd known he'd shield himself and leave her deception undetected. He'd been taken in, and he'd put Annabelle in danger. “So, what do we do?” Annabelle stood by his side. He was grateful she hadn't pressed him for any more explanations. “We wait for dawn.”

“Why? Gaelen,” she grabbed his sleeve, her eyes frantic, “Erin's been in there for two days already. We can't waste any more time. We've got to get her out.” Gaelen leaned against the car. “Annabelle, dearest, I understand your fear. But there isn't anything we can do until dawn.” He needed to get her mind off their troubles. “Have you ever been to Ireland?” “No.” “Come on, then,” he said as he opened the door for her, “let's go for a ride.” She didn't look ready to go on a joyride with the situation still unresolved, but finally settled on a huff to show her displeasure with the delay and got in. Gaelen walked around and opened the door, casting a quick glance toward the house where Linette hid. She was probably digging through their bags right now, looking for some idea of what he intended to do. She'd never find a clue, he thought with a pang.You couldn't leave clues to a plan that didn't exist. ~*~

Even though she felt like a traitor, Annabelle had to admit she was glad Gaelen decided they needed to get away. Once she was actually in the car, at least. “So, where are we going?” “I want to show you some of Ireland.” He glanced behind them, as Killis grew smaller in the rearview mirror. “And we'll have some time to talk.” “You mean you're finally going to tell me how we're going to get Erin and Lucas out of that place?” “Soon.” He didn't look at her. “First, we ride and see the some of the most beautiful land God created.” They drove for almost an hour, either in silence or with a few words as Gaelen pointed out some sight along the road. Annabelle noticed the mileage signs showed Dublin growing closer. She hadn't realized Ireland was so, well,compact . “Are we going to Dublin?” “No. Somewhere more important.” His reply surprised her. “Dublin's the capitol, isn't it?” “It is now, but not always.” She half-turned in her seat. “I though the Irish loved to talk. How come I have to pull words out of you?” Gaelen laughed. “Indeed the Irish love to talk. I'm a fairy, though.”

“Aren't you Irish?” He thought about that. “I suppose in a way. Maybe in the same way I'm an American. By naturalization.” “A naturalized Irishman. What were you before?” “I'm a fairy.” “So what's that got to do with you not being Irish and a talker?” “Oh, we talk, only the Irish have always been better talkers.” He glanced at her, a smile in his eyes. “That's why we live underground now.” “Oh,” she said, remembering what Gaelen had told her about the bad land deal. “There,” he said, pointing ahead of them. He slowed the car and turned into a gravel lot. He parked and turned off the car. “We'll have to walk. You have comfortable shoes?” “Sure.” Annabelle got out and followed him. There wasn't much to see, and she wondered why they'd stopped. She almost asked when she glanced at Gaelen and her words stopped on the tip of her tongue. He stood in front of the car, just looking, the expression on his face one of longing. “Gaelen,” she whispered, afraid of breaking this spell. “Where are we?” “Tara,” he replied, his answer as low as her question. He started walking quickly toward the low hill covered with green. Annabelle dashed after him, her eyes on him. “Gaelen, what is Tara? I mean besides Scarlett O'Hara's plantation?” That did stop him. “What? What is Tara?” he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief. Then he circled her as though she were a strange new form of life brought back from Mars. Annabelle shrank away from the examination. “I'm sorry I don't know, Gaelen. Pretend I'm a product of the American public school system and tell me.” He sighed. “Tara is the hall of the kings. It's where my people ruled the land.” “Before the Irish.” “Yes. And when we went underground—” Annabelle wondered at that phrase. He never said, “When they beat us....” “—they took it over and used it until Patrick converted them.”

“Then what happened to it?” “They forgot about it. Just like they forgot about us.” Sadness colored his voice, shadowed his face. Annabelle's heart became heavy in sympathy. He started walking again, his long stride taking him closer to the grassy mound, all that was left of Tara. Annabelle quickened her pace to keep up with him. “Gaelen, this looks like a national monument or something. Won't we get in trouble being up here?” He didn't answer. She followed him. They scrambled up the hillside. Once there, Annabelle could see they were on top of an outer ring. Inside was a second ring surrounding a field. Further over were another two rings, these larger than those on which she was standing. The inside ring enclosed yet another mound. “Look out that way,” Gaelen said, pointing. She raised her eyes and gazed out. And was struck speechless. “A fine, fair sight, is it not?” “It's beautiful.” Even as she spoke the words, Annabelle was struck with their inadequacy. Near noon, the sun hung high, giving a golden glow to the verdant land. Far off she could see the shadowy outlines of low mountains. “Those mountains, there,” Gaelen pointed, standing by her shoulder. “They're in Galway and Clare. All the way on the other side of Ireland.” “We can see that far?” She threw him a glare. “You're not doing anything are you? To fool me?” He laughed. “Aren't you the suspicious one? No, dearling, I'm not doing anything. It's only about a hundred miles after all, with not much betwixt us.” Turning, he walked away along the top of the ring. Again she followed. “Gaelen, why are we here?” She caught up and took hold of his sleeve, stopping him. “Are we just killing time?” “No. I needed to come here.” He took her hand and they walked along the top of the ancient ring. Their silence was taken up by nature. No birds sang. No breeze ruffled the grass. There was no sign of any life but theirs, as far as Annabelle could see. It was as though they were alone in all of Ireland. Gaelen appeared to be staring off toward the middle of the rings, even as they circled them. What was he looking for?

But she didn't ask, afraid of shattering the crystalline silence they shared. Finally, after they had walked the circumference of the rings three times, Gaelen stopped, his eyes still fixed on the center of the rings. He nodded as though agreeing with words Annabelle couldn't hear. “It's time to be getting back.” His words caught her by surprise, and she found herself standing on top of the rise while Gaelen was halfway to the car. “Well,” he called back to her, “let's go. It'll be gettin’ dark soon.” Annabelle dashed after him, growing more confused by the second. Gaelen practically shoved her in the car and slammed the door after her, then he ran around the red Mercedes and jumped into the driver's seat. The engine purred and seconds later they were on the main highway back to Killis. “Are you going to explain?” she finally asked. “What was all that about? Were you communing with the spirits?” He grinned. “Sort of.” “Did they tell you what to do?” “Yep.” “Well?” Annabelle was starting to get really irritated. “If I tell you, you'll just write it up for your paper.” Annabelle felt her brow furrow. “Why would you think that?” “You're a journalist. What you're going to be seeing is, well, news.” “What am I going to see?” She half-turned in the seat so she could really look at him. “I promise, I won't write about this.” She made the motion over her chest. “Cross my heart.” “Okay. We're going to make a frontal assault on Finnvarra's hall.” That sounded dangerous. “There's no other way?” “Not that I've thought of. Maybe you've a better idea?” he cut her a glance, humor in his eyes. “How can you think this is funny? My sister is being held prisoner by those people.” “I'm sorry. You're right, of course.” He sobered immediately. “I'm going to need your help. But I'm afraid you're not going to like the requirements.”

“Requirements?” “Well, the best I've come up with is this. You and I go into Finnvarra's hall, me as Lucas's advocate, you in disguise.” He glanced at her. Annabelle imagined she saw embarrassment in his eyes. “Once inside, I'll distract the assembly, while you get Erin out.” “That sounds okay to me. They wouldn't hurt us or anything, would they?” “Ach, no.” His quick reassuring smile faded and his brow furrowed. “Well, maybe not. Probably not.” “Gaelen.” “The most they'd do is strike you blind.” “What?” “Or they could turn you into something, a swan. A fish maybe?” “You're kidding.” “Wish I were.” “Well, as long as I don't end up as a frog.” “Please, Annabelle, at least give us credit for having some style.” He was grinning again and Annabelle had no alternative but to join him. “That's better. Everything goes better with a little humor.” “So, how will I be disguised?” she asked, certain he had something perfectly humorous planned. Gaelen averted his eyes, staring straight up the highway. “Maybe we'd better leave an explanation of that until we get back to Killis.” Annabelle waited a moment, sure he'd have more to add, but when he didn't, she asked, “Why wait, Gaelen? How horrible can it be?” She saw his eyes cut to her, then back to the road, though his head didn't even twitch. “Just wait,” he said, patting her hand. “It's bad luck to talk about a plan before it's time to spring it.” “I never heard of that superstition.” “I just made it up,” he admitted. Immediately her defenses sprung up. What could be so bad that he couldn't even tell her? What was the worst it could be? Maybe he'd want her to walk in naked or something? The thought made her laugh softly. The really nice thing about Ireland is everything is close, Annabelle thought as Gaelen brought the Mercedes to a stop shortly thereafter in front of Mrs. O'Hara's Bed and Breakfast.

“We're going back in here?” she asked, the hairs on the back of her neck stirring. “Sure. Why not?” Gaelen came around and opened her door, offering his hand in a study of chivalry. “If you're worried about Linette, don't. She'll be long gone from here. I'll wager Mrs. O'Hara won't even know us.” “There's a real Mrs. O'Hara?” “Oh, sure ‘n there is. Linette just put her in a closet or something and took over her form for a bit.” He linked her arm with his and strolled up the steps to the dark door. When he knocked, an old woman peered out the window through pure white lace curtains. The woman opened the door and smiled. “I'm sorry, folk, but I'm full up tonight.” Gaelen leaned forward and whispered, “Yes, Mrs. O'Hara, we're the folk in the front bedroom.” The woman studied them for a second before she slapped her palm to her comfortable bosom. “Lands, sir, and wouldn't I be knowing you. Please,” she said, stepping aside, “come in, come in.” Annabelle studied the new Mrs. O'Hara closely. Mrs. O'Hara didn't stare back, but did cut a glance or two to Annabelle. “Is everything all right, Missus?” Mrs. O'Hara asked. “Oh,” Annabelle stammered, embarrassed to be caught staring. “Yes, I'm sorry, Mrs. O'Hara. You remind me of someone I knew, that's all.” “Well, I hope the reminder is a good one. Now, will you both be takin’ supper with me?” “No, I'm sorry, Mrs. O'Hara, we'd been thinking of going out for a pint and some music and dancin'. Would you like to accompany us?” Gaelen asked with a smile no woman could refuse. Mrs. O'Hara again patted her bosom. “Ach, and get on wi’ ya. Such a one you have here, my dear,” she said to Annabelle. “No, you young folk go and have a grand time. The closest public house is O'Looney's, no more than a small walk from here.” Thanking their hostess for the recommendation, Gaelen and Annabelle went up to their room and freshened up, one at a time in the small, shared bathroom across the hall. Then they walked hand-in-hand down the narrow cobbled street to the corner where O'Looney's was lit up and spilling the sound of song and dance out the door and windows. The pub was packed, but almost magically a small table for two appeared near the window. “Did you do that?” she whispered as they made their way to it. “Do what?” he asked as he held out a chair for her. “Oh, this? Sure, we'd never have gotten a table before ten, and we have to be up early tomorrow mornin'.” He pushed in the chair for her and leaned over, kissing her on the temple. “Got to play the lovin’ newlyweds, no? What will you have, love?” Love sounded good. Annabelle shook the sudden erotic vision back into the mists of her demented mind.

“I don't know. A beer, I guess.” “Beer! Gads, no. A pint of good Irish ale for you, my girl.” “I don't have to drink it warm, do I?” “For certain you do. ‘Tis the only decent way to drink ale.” He left her to go to the bar to order their drinks. She watched him mingle with the men at the bar, welcomed as though he'd lived among them his whole life. It only hit her then that she knew very little of his life before she met him. Suddenly she wanted to know everything about him. Not only what had happened, but what he dreamed of. “Omigosh,” she yanked her head around, away from the sight of him by the bar. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened. She was in love with Gaelen Riley. She was in love with a fairy. It would be funny if there weren't such terrible consequences. Like not being able to be together. Not that he'd shown any sign of succumbing to her feminine charms. Far from it, he'd been able to control himself well. Annabelle caught her reflection in the window.Objectively now , she told herself.Really look. And for the first time in a long time—probably ever—she really studied herself. Her eyes were large, the deep brown of her father. Her hair was a warm brown, unaided so far by chemicals. She was neither too fat nor too thin, and proud of her size ten figure. She'd never thought of herself that way, but she suddenly realized she was pretty—in a plain sort of way. So why did men have no problem at all staying away? Did she put out some kind of warning vibe? Beware the she-devil. Keep away hands and feet and anything else that sticks out! Gaelen chose that moment to return with two mugs of ale. “Here we are, dearling. I took the opportunity to order us some food.” “What are we having?” she asked. “Here you are, lady,” a waiter in a plaid vest set a steaming bowl before her, then one for Gaelen. With a flourish, he placed a big bowl of hot, crusty bread in the middle of the small table. “Anything else, sir?” “No, not right now. This is splendid.” “Indeed it is, sir,” the waiter smiled, “the best stew in all Ireland. If you're needin’ anything else, just holler if you can be heard over this din.” Annabelle hadn't realized how hungry she was and dug into the rich, creamy gravy full of sweet carrots and peas and potatoes and chunks of tender and flavorful meat.

“Good?” “Um-umm,” she replied, her mouth full. Gaelen broke off a hunk of the bread and handed it to her, then took some for himself. “Nothing like real Irish lamb stew.” “This is lamb?” Annabelle asked, setting her spoon back down in the bowl. “Aye. And you love it. So, eat, and stop thinking about Lamb Chop.” He filled his mouth with stew. “Think of it this way. Lamb Chop wasn't a lamb at all. She was a large gym sock stuffed with other gym socks. I guarantee she'd never have tasted like this.” “You're right,” Annabelle agreed and returned to enjoying her meal. They ate as they had spent so much time lately, in silence. That is, they didn't say anything, but the pub around them was full of laughter and song. When he'd scraped the last of the stew from his bowl with a hunk of warm bread, Gaelen sighed mightily and pulled his chair around the table, closer to the wall. He leaned back, his pint in his hand, his smile just a shadow on his kissable lips. “What are you smiling at?” Annabelle asked. “Nothing. Everything.” He sipped his ale. “It's been a long time since I was here.” “In Ireland?” Annabelle had a feeling there was more. “Yes. But not just Ireland. Here.” He tapped his temple. “Where I am. Do you know,” he asked, sitting up and resting his forearms on the table, “I've got fifteen graduate-level papers waiting on my desk I've not even looked at? And an unfinished article for a professional publication? And three dissertations I'm supposed to be evaluatin'? And here I sit.” He laughed. “Last week, I'd be sweating like a junkie to be this far away from my work.” “There's nothing wrong with working hard or enjoying your work.” “No.” He frowned. “I suppose the only thing wrong is using work to hide what you are from yourself. That's what I've been doing.” Annabelle thought about this. Had she been doing the same thing? Hiding what she was from herself? But what exactly was she hiding? She couldn't say she knew. “Now, Lucas,” Gaelen said, waving his pint at nothing in particular. “There's a boy who still knows who he is. Leads with his heart all the time.” Lucas's name reminded Annabelle with a jolt just why she was sitting here with Gaelen Riley in a pub in Ireland. Her anxiety for Erin swamped her in one big wave, along with guilt that she'd been enjoying herself, while her little sister was being held prisoner somewhere near here. “What's wrong, darlin'?”

Gaelen's softly asked question made Annabelle jerk her gaze up from the last remnants of her meal. How could he tell so quickly her worry had returned? His eyes crinkled with a sympathetic smile. “Worrying about Erin, are you? I'm sorry.” He took her hand in his. His warmth flowed into her. “I wanted to help you forget your troubles for a bit.” “Thank you,” she replied, enjoying the intimate play of his fingers over hers. “This all seems so unreal somehow, like I'm dreaming. Like I'll wake up in my own bed, and none of it will have happened.” “Oh, don't wish that.” He leaned closer. “If our siblings hadn't acted so precipitously, I would never have found you.” Never releasing her gaze, Gaelen brought her hand to his lips and pressed his lips to her palm. His kiss lasted a long moment. Annabelle's breathing stopped. “Gaelen....” He pressed his finger to her lips. “Shhh. No more sad face now.” Turning toward the bar, he waved his empty mug. “Jocko! Could you get us another two of these?” To Annabelle, he said, “Let's dance.” “To this?” she asked. “How does one dance to that?” “What's the deal, darlin', never seenRiverdance ?” “Yes, but—” He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the floor, to the applause of the crowd. The fiddler struck up a tune, one sounding like Ireland, though how she could have told that, she couldn't say. She'd never heard the tune before, but it had such a wonderful beat, and everyone clapped and laughed and sang along the words she could barely understand—something about a bridge and meeting girls there—she just followed Gaelen's steps as he pulled her around the floor, jumping and nearly flying in a definite pattern, but not one Annabelle could ever follow. “Ah!” she finally gasped. “Stop!” Never letting go of her hand, Gaelen turned toward her, his eyes shining in pleasure and freedom and fun. “Tired already?” His own breathing was heavy. “Yes. I give.” She laughed and tried to drag him back to their table when the music slowed. Instead of an Irishaire , the band now squeaked out a slow, bluesy tune, quite fit for— “Here, now,” Gaelen whispered, pulling her into the circle of his arms. “That's more like it.” Annabelle allowed her arms to rise, to find a comfortable resting place on his broad shoulders. He snuggled her against him, wrapping her as though he were a sweater. She absorbed his heat, his scent. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she dared allow her starved imagination to wonder what lay beneath his cotton shirt. “You feel so good,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “And you smell good. Like a rain-splashed summer day.”

When had she ever felt like this? Protected and maybe even, wanted? He stopped leading her in a slow circle. Feeling his unspoken words, she raised her eyes to meet his, even as afraid as she was to let him see what lived in her own. The din of the pub faded, drowned by the pounding of her blood. Like waves, one after another, crashing in her ears. Her eyes lay in the trap of his gaze, unwilling, unable to break free. Suddenly, there were so many things she wanted to tell him. But she had no breath to carry the words. He studied her, as though marking every feature. What was he thinking to be so intent? His mouth came closer, lips invitingly parted. Her own responded. Their single kiss flashed through her mind, making her smile at the memory. Then a bolt of heat arced through her as she remembered how his lips had felt against hers. His arms closed around her, pulling her even tighter against him. When his mouth captured hers, she fell completely under his spell again. “Well done, lad!” “Bets on who comes up first for air?” “He's a big lad, but I'll take the lady for endurance.” The voices echoed through the fog blanketing her mind, and she succeeded in ignoring them. The applause had her and Gaelen breaking apart, as though each had set the other on fire. Gaelen glared around, but his irritation vanished in an instant, so fast she didn't know if she'd actually seen it. He flipped his charming switch. “Thank you, lads and ladies,” he said, with an ironic bow, shooing Annabelle toward their table where two pints waited, foamy heads drooping. “Jocko, let's have a round for the house.” His call roused applause of another kind, thankfully taking the attention off the two of them. Gaelen sat with unnecessary force on the chair at the table. “No more for me,” Annabelle started. “Nonsense. Nobody has just one pint.” Seemed like nobody had just two either. Gaelen kept the pints coming. And coming. CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Too-rah, loo-rah, loo-rah!” Annabelle sang at the top of her lungs. “Shhh,” Gaelen whispered, trying to keep a straight face.

“Too-rah, loo-rah-lie!” “Annabelle, the constable—” “Too-rah, loo-rah, loo-rah!” She gulped a huge breath. Gaelen closed his eyes in dread. Instead of beltingà la Merman, she placed her finger against his lips. “Hush now, don't you cry,” she sang in a whisper. “Hush now,” he sang along, trying to get her to take the hint. “Too-rah, loo-rah, loo-rah! Too-rah, loo-rah-lie!” She raised her arms, her voice boldly going where Joe Feeney had never gone before. “Too-rah, loo-rah, loo-rah! It's anI-Irish luh—” Gasp. “—luh—” Gasp. Gaelen grimaced for the big finish. “—by!” Her arms wide, she twirled. “Uh-oh.” Gaelen stepped in and caught her, mid-twirl. She giggled. “Wanna hear another Irish song?” He smothered a laugh. “Let's go to our room, and you can sing me to sleep. How does that sound?” She nuzzled his neck, sending his whole body into shock. “Maybe we'll do something better than sing, hmmm?” Her arms circled his neck and she frowned. “Kiss me again, Gaelen. It was too short. It's always too short when you kiss me.” He had to agree with that. Her lips, full and ripe, lured him to his—and her—ruin. “You know we can't,” he said, pulling her arms from around his neck. “Come on, darlin'. I'll put you to bed.” He put his arm around her, guiding her along the street to Mrs. O'Hara's house. “Why can't we?” She stumbled alongside him, nearly sending the both of them facedown into the muddy street. “You know why,” he whispered. “Let's not talk about this until we get upstairs. See, here we are.” He pushed open the front door of Mrs. O'Hara's house and sent Annabelle across the threshold. There was no sign of their hostess. A fire burned on the hearth, the only light except for a small lamp on the table by the window. “Come on, now.” He guided Annabelle to the stairs and helped her—pushed her, really—up to the second floor. When he'd closed the door behind him, Annabelle attacked.

Well, she didn't actually attack. Only in a figurative sense. Her palms settled against the back of his neck and pulled him to her. She sealed his mouth shut with her own, taking what she'd asked him for. His first inclination was to stop this. She was drunk. She didn't know what she was doing. The first taste killed his good intentions. After all, if the girl yearned to be kissed, who was he to deny her? Gaelen enfolded her in his arms, meaning only to kiss her as thoroughly as he'd been wanting for so, so long. Heaven. Sweet and spicy and luscious. He fell headfirst, allowing her to fill every sense. Idiot. What do you think you're doing? The law. The Council. His brother and her sister. Gaelen grabbed her arms and pulled her loose. In releasing himself, he shoved her away and she fell on the bed. A pained silence flooded the room. “I'm sorry,” she whispered after a moment. “I thought....” Her broken sentence and the hurt in her eyes felt like a blade between his ribs. No, it was worse than that. It was more like he'd slipped a blade betweenher ribs. Of course she'dthought.... After all, he'd been all over her back there in the pub. She got off the bed and reached unsteadily for her overnight bag. “'Scuse me,” she whispered, her words slurred enough to remind him she wasn't responsible for her actions. Gaelen didn't realize until then he was completely blocking the door. “Please let me out.” “Wait, Annabelle—” “No.” She raised her hand to punctuate her order. “Don't.” She hadn't looked at him for long seconds. She wouldn't raise her eyes to his. “I'm sorry, darlin'.” “Don't call me ... that.” He heard the tears in her voice. “And don't talk nice to me anymore. Just get out of my way.” “Wait.” “Look. I made a mistake. You aren't in the least interested. That's fine.” Again, she tried to weave past him. “No. You surprised me, that's all.” No way was he going to get out of her way and let her just walk out

with this unresolved between them. “Look, Gaelen, you don't have to try to make me feel better.” She stood unsteadily before him. “I'm loaded. When I wake up in the morning, I'll be so sick—” As though to demonstrate, she hiccupped. “I won't even remember making a total fool of myself.” She tried straight-arming him out of the way. “Where are you going?” “I'm going to see if Mrs. O'Hara has an extra room.” “No. Don't do that.” “Why not?” Finally, she'd gotten enough control of herself, she could raise her eyes to his and the sight terrified him. Deep down inside where he didn't think fear lived. He thought fast.Why not? What reason could he give her? “We have to stay together. Remember the goons at the airport?” He could see her softening. “We have to stay together and not get separated.” Bobbing and weaving like a prizefighter, she appeared to consider this. “All right. But only because we have to. And I know you don't want anything to do with me, so you don't have to pretend anymore.” She turned away, then whipped back toward him, closing her eyes and reaching for support. “I'm all right. Just tell me something. I'll probably be sorry about this, too, but what the hell? I might as well get all my stupid things over with at one time, hmmm?” “What do you want to know?” “Is it true what Dr. Duncan said?” “Yes.” “It is?” Her face fell. “You're gay?” “What?” “That's what she said.” “Linette?” Annabelle nodded. “I guess that makes it a little better, then. It's not just me that doesn't turn you on.” “What the hell are you babbling about?” “She said you're gay. It makes it easier to take that you're not interested in me.” Gaelen caught her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “What did she say? Exactly.” Annabelle stared up at him. “You've got the most beautiful eyes. Did you know that?” “Thank you. Now, Linette. What exactly did she say about me?”

“She said you were gay.” Annabelle rocked her head to the side and scrunched her brow in confusion. “No. That's not exactly it. She said you're a fairy.” “She told you that? When?” “Oh, I don't know. Before you did. Of course, I though she was talking about afairy .” She held up her arm and let her wrist go limp. “But you're afairy .” She flapped her hands in imitation of a bird's wings. “Yes.” He thought he understood. “How did you get the idea that I'm gay?” “She said so.” He felt a headache coming on. “Well, I guess maybe I assumed so. Fromfairy ,” again she flopped her hand around, “you know.” “Ah. I see.” “But now you say you are.” “What?” “Just now. You said what she said was true.” “Yes, darlin', I'm a fairy.” He grinned at her and flopped a limp wrist at her. “But not afairy . Not that there's anything wrong with that.” Annabelle recognized the famousSeinfeld line and squealed, her formerly limp wrist slamming across her mouth to shut off her mad giggle. “You see, darlin',” Gaelen said, taking her hand and stroking the bones, “I thought she'd only told the truth. Pixies cannot lie.” “Really?” “Really. She told the truth, knowing you'd understand her words in the wrong sense.” He shook his head. “Clever girl.” “That's what Lucas said, too. I didn't understand him then.” Gaelen shrugged at the thought of the ribbing he'd be likely to get from his little brother when this was all over. Not that there was anything wrong with that. “Oh, I don't feel good,” she moaned. Her color was suddenly only slightly better than wilted lettuce. She dropped her bag and pushed him aside, nearly ripping the door from its hinges and dashing into the hallway and across to the tiny bathroom.

Feeling somewhat responsible for her wretched condition, Gaelen followed her into the bathroom and dampened a cloth. After the first wave was over, he went in and sat on the floor beside her, wiping her face with the cool cloth, smoothing back her sweat-dampened hair. How could he watch her puke and still want to take her back across the room and make love to her until morning? What spell had she cast over him to make him—? The shock made him straighten, pulling him away from her. The expression on her face was a repeat of the one earlier, when he'd rebuffed her kiss. Maybe it was better to let her think he didn't want her. Hell, maybe it would be better if hewere gay. She took the cloth from him. “Thanks. You don't need to stay with me now.” She sounded almost sober. “I want to,” he replied honestly. He couldn't leave her. He loved her. There, Gaelen. That didn't hurt too much, did it? But he could never have her. Sure, maybe for a moment, for a night, or two. But the forever his heart demanded was impossible. Annabelle gazed at him with a hazy expression, slightly hungry, yearning. The words came from his lips before he could stop them. “We can't, Annabelle. The law.” She frowned, then shook her head slightly as though trying to clear it. “Come on.” He got up and held a hand down to her. She laid hers in his. The fit choked him. He swallowed the feeling he was refusing the greatest gift anyone had ever offered him. But he shoved aside his regret. It was useless to get mired down in something he couldn't help. And they had enough problems without the two of them getting mixed up together. Still he hated it. “Here you go,” he said, stepping across the narrow hallway and retrieving her overnight bag. “Get your nightgown on and brush your teeth. You need to get to bed, I mean, sleep.” She nodded and slowly shut the door in his face. He waited in the small bedroom where they would both have to try to get some sleep tonight. Both aware of the other. Both wanting the other. “Damn!” he muttered in frustration. Why couldn't he have been born just a man. A plain vanilla, mortal man? Even as the thought shimmered through his mind, he knew it for the treachery it was. He was what he

was. Annabelle had accepted it readily enough. Of course, she got her fey side from her father. “Your turn,” she said, slipping into the room on silent bare feet. “Thanks.” He grabbed his bag and made a quick getaway. ~*~

He was gone for a long time. Once it sunk into her head he wasn't coming back tonight, Annabelle curled under the thick downy comforter and snuggled into the marshmallow soft mattress. She'd slept alone since she was a baby—except for the times thunder and lightning or a particularly good scary story had sent her dashing into her parents’ king-sized bed. Why did she feel so alone? This was no different from any other night. Oh, yes, it is. It's different from last night, she thought, when Gaelen's big body had curved behind hers, heating her through and making her feel safe. Just like those long-gone nights when her imagination's overwork produced a closet teeming with monsters which preyed on little girls who couldn't fall asleep, every clatter of the old house exploded in her ears. She peered into the dark, seeing in the shadows the forms the sounds suggested. A grown woman shouldn't be so jumpy. But her scolding didn't stop her from starting at the sound of voices outside her door. “This is the one, is it?” This was broken by a whisper, too low to tell anything about the speaker. “Awww, never mind, now. ‘Tisn't as though she can get away.” Refusing to think about what that might mean, she forced herself to lay still and concentrate on the voice. The man's voice was familiar. Again the whispering voice scratched at the door. “No, no,” the man replied. “I saw the big yellow-haired lad leaving here about ten minutes ago. He'll be going to the pub for a drink before last call. We've got plenty of time. Now stand back and let me do my work.” The doorknob rattled. Annabelle jumped out of the bed, looking for an escape route. One glance around told her nobody but Santa Claus could get out of the room without going through the door. Not really knowing where the inspiration came from, she yanked two overstuffed pillows into the rough shape of a body and threw the comforter back up over the lump. Just as the knob rattled again and a splinter of light sliced into the room, she dropped to the spotlessly clean floor and slid under the bed, not stopping until she hit the wall. Two sets of feet entered the room. The first to reach the bed were large, inside heavy-soled work boots. She could see the deep treads caked with mud. “Here you go, darlin'. Time to wake up!” A pause of silence broke the sound of speech. Annabelle caught her breath, fearing her thumping heart

would wake everyone in town. “What the hell?” “Where is she?” The whisperer's voice, closer with no door between them, was identifiable. Dr. Duncan's small feet appeared at the side of the bed in Annabelle's line of sight, then scampered to the window where Annabelle could hear her shaking the window, testing the lock. “She didn't go out this way unless she's sprouted wings.” The man chuckled. “Not likely with Dr. Riley around.” What did that mean? But she didn't have time to worry about that. The man dropped to his knees beside the bed, obviously to take a look underneath. Where to go now?Annabelle scrunched closer to the wall. The bedspread. It hung further on this side, hidden against the wall, layered on the floor. She grabbed a handful and pulled it over her, covering herself with it like a shroud. Would this be enough? She could see a shadowy outline through the thin material. Surely the man would be able to see her, even in the darkness under the bed. Her heart jumped in her throat. She couldn't have breathed even if she hadn't been afraid to. His face appeared upside down peering under the bed. He's got me. Gaelen where are you? ~*~

Gaelen stood behind the rented Mercedes, pawing through the things in the trunk. He'd come down to get their precious supply of ointment, so he could keep an eye on it. It was the only thing they had which couldn't be replaced easily. He hefted the bag their supplies were in: the iron knife, the salt, and the crystal bottle of ointment. Better be getting back to the room and get some sleep. Still he stood there, waiting. What if she were still awake? Would she still have that hurt look in her eyes? Maybe I should sleep in the car? Nothing could come of getting too close to her. She'll be hurt. I'll be hurt. Too late, bucko. Too late.

He slammed the trunk lid. “Damn, Lucas! This is all your fault, little brother.” Promising his brother all manner of punishment in this world and the next, Gaelen stomped up the street to Mrs. O'Hara's small establishment. A muttered threat to Lucas's well-being froze on his lips unspoken. He stopped beside the panel van in front of Mrs. O'Hara's that hadn't been there when he'd left. He slammed through the front door, eyes up. His heart fell to the soles of his feet when he saw the door to the small bedroom open. The room where he'd left Annabelle. He took the narrow stairway three steps at a time. One of Linette Duncan's pet fairy mercs knelt down by the bed, his head low. “Not under here, Doc.” “Are you sure?” Linette started to drop to her knees to take her own look underneath. Gaelen searched the room. Annabelle, where are you? “Looking for something, Linette, my song bird?” Linette jerked up straight but didn't answer. Her pet also straightened. He glanced between Linette and Gaelen. “What have you done with her?” Gaelen asked. “Nothing.” He dropped the bag and crossed the room in two strides, his hands on Linette's thin neck before he could stop himself. The merc jumped, hands up. Gaelen backhanded him across the room. He spared the merc a glance. “Stay out of this,” he growled. Linette struggled, her hands clawing at his fingers wrapped around her throat. “Let go of me! Frank!” she called to the merc sitting on the floor. “If he gets off his ass, I'll squeeze everything out of you. So sit still, Frank.” Gaelen loosened his fingers. “Where is she, Linette? I swear before Dana herself, if you've done anything with her—” Linette shook her head as much as she could with Gaelen holding her by the neck. “I haven't touched your precious mortal woman.” “Where is she?” he asked for the final time between clenched teeth. “I don't know.” As Gaelen's fingers tightened again, she sputtered, “She wasn't here when we came in. I swear.”

“I left her here. Right here.” He squeezed tighter. “Tell me, you treacherous pixie bitch or I'll...” Linette's gurgle filled the room. “Gaelen?” Annabelle's voice drifted from under the bed. She scrambled up on the far side, squeezed between the bed and the wall. He glanced up at her and saw her face assume a mask of horror. “What are you doing? Let her go!” Relief made him weak. He let Linette go and she dropped to the floor. She scampered over to Frank, who'd obediently kept his seat on the floor. Annabelle stared at him. Frank stared at him. Linette was the only one who didn't. “So, Gaelen,” she said in a croak. “You and your brother both, law breakers, eh? A double trial, then. Such an event it will be.” “What are you talking about?” “You know perfectly well. You've been consorting with a mortal woman. You've exposed yourself to her, haven't you?” “I wish,” Annabelle muttered, crossing her arms. Frank snickered. “Shut up!” Gaelen and Linette shouted in one voice. Gaelen's brow tightened in a frown at Annabelle. “Let me handle this.” “Like you were handling it just now?” She shook her head. “No thanks. Don't know what Irish prisons are like, but I'd really hate to have to explain a dead pixie in our room.” Linette glared at him. “You've exposed me, too?” Annabelle clambered over the bed. “You know, you fairy people—” “I'm not a damned fairy,” Linette said. “Sorry. Youimmortal people worry way too much about whether anybody believes in you or not.” “That's easy for you to say, lass,” Frank said, his words trailing off as he met Gaelen's gaze. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I know. Shut up.” He folded his hands in his lap. “Look here, Gaelen. I was ordered to bring her to the Council of Elders.” “Why?” She didn't answer.

“Because she told them you and I were lovers.” Annabelle's voice filled the empty air. “That makes you guilty of breaking the law.” Linette laughed. “This isn't about sex, you stupid mortal.” At a growl from Gaelen, she backed away from him, a very satisfying reaction from his point of view. Once out of his reach, however, she regained her confidence. “It's about revealing ourselves.” She tossed Gaelen a saucy look. “If you'd been half the scholar you pride yourself on being, you'd know that. But, I guess our records aren't a fit subject of study for you, Dr. Riley.” “What?” “That's right, Gaelen, me boyo,” Linette crowed with a smirk. “The law forbids revealing one's nature to a mortal. You can boink ‘em to your heart's content.” “Where did you find this out?” “In the Great Library. Where you'd be doing your work if you had any ethnic pride at all.” Her words struck so close to his conscience, Gaelen couldn't respond. Annabelle, however, had no such impediment. “I don't see you practicing fairy medicine, Dr. Duncan.” “I am a pixie!” Linette snapped her mouth shut. “I am a pixie,” she said more calmly. “I am a distant cousin of the Irish fairies.” Glaring at Gaelen, she added, “A close enough connection, I assure you.” “What now?” Annabelle knelt on the bed, arms crossed. Linette's green eyes flicked between Gaelen and Annabelle. “I suppose there's nothing I can do. I must leave with my mission unaccomplished. I had hoped to produce Miss Tinker here as Exhibit A against you.” “Don't worry, Doc,” Annabelle said, “I'll be there.” Her words gave Gaelen a rush of pride in her spunk. He turned to Linette and clucked insincere pity. “What a shame you have to be going so soon, Doc.” He motioned to the door, unwilling to remove himself from between Linette and her quarry. “See you in court tomorrow, then. Be sure to bring her,” Linette tossed her thumb back to indicate Annabelle. “Come on, Frank.” Linette marched out the door. Frank followed, but paused to offer a salute. “No hard feelings, eh?” In answer, Gaelen slammed the door in his face. Feeling suddenly needful of more security, he locked the door and put the old-fashioned key in his pants pocket before going to the window.

~*~

He stood looking out the window for a long time it seemed to Annabelle. “What are you looking for?” she asked. “I'm watching to make sure they both leave.” She heard an engine start and tires squeal as a vehicle peeled out from the front of the house. He turned from the window at last, going back to the door and picking up the bag they'd carried their purchases in earlier. “Here,” he said shoving the bag at her. “Take the salt out and sprinkle it on the sill and by the door and on the hearth.” “Why?” “It'll keep them away tonight.” “What are they? Vampires?” She turned to do as he ordered. “No,” he said, wiping his face with both hands. “For vampires, I'd use garlic salt.” She stopped in mid-turn, slowly turning back to face him. “You mean...?” “What?” “There really are vampires?” “Sure.” She turned slowly again to the window, taking small careful steps. “What else is there? Out there?” Gaelen fell into the comfortable chair in front of the small fireplace, his breath whooshing out as he stretched. “Werewolves, shapeshifters, gargoyles, demons, witches, you name it.” She glared at him, aware now he was teasing. “That's not funny, Gaelen.” When she'd finished salting down Mrs. O'Hara's spare bedroom, Annabelle put the box of salt back into the bag. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she finally asked what had been on her mind since Frank, the fairy mercenary, had rattled the doorknob to this room. “Where did you go?” He leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. “Out for a walk. Then I stopped at the car to get the bag. With Linette hovering about, I thought I'd sleep better with it in here.” He opened his eyes and rolled his head around to look at her. “You should get some sleep. It's late, and we have to be about our business early

tomorrow.” She shrugged. “I can't sleep now. Besides, I think I'm getting a hangover.” “Oh, poor darlin'.” He pushed himself out of the chair. “Got a headache?” He climbed behind her on the bed and knelt, raising his hands over her head. “Some more magic?” “Mm-hmm. Close your eyes and sit very still.” She could feel his hands near her, moving around her, but not touching her. Occasionally his warmth would be abruptly leave but return immediately. As she sat there, she felt as though she were floating. Her arms and legs had no weight. She had no weight. “What are you doing?” “Shhh, I'm lifting your headache.” “What?” “Shhh.” She obeyed and relaxed. Though he didn't touch her, she could feel where his hands were, hovering above her head. His presence radiated through her, warming her, relaxing her, even while he created a tension she found not at all unpleasant. They were quiet for many minutes. “It's gone,” she spoke the words as the realization dawned. “Good.” He kissed the top of her head. She heard him breathe deeply. “You do smell so good.” Annabelle leaned back against him, willing him to touch her. Her body yearned for his touch, his kiss. Gaelen stroked her arms, up her neck. The warmth of his fingers shot through her, a flame seeking out all the cold, empty places in her soul. “The law is only for revealing ourselves.” “Gaelen, make love to me.” Had she really spoken those words? His hands stilled. He pulled away, leaving cold where there had been warmth. “No, dearling. Not tonight.” She whirled on him. “I wish you'd make up your mind. You act like you want me, then when I offer myself like a common trollop you back off like you've taken a vow of chastity. What's wrong with me? Why you don't like me?”

He grimaced. “There's nothing wrong with you. I like you rather too much.” “Then kiss me again.” Was she really being so bold? “I've been trying and trying.” “Oh, darlin’ don't tempt me so. I can't.” “Why?” “The law.” “Phooey on the law. You heard what Dr. Duncan just said.” “I need to verify that for myself.” He grinned. “Besides, what would I tell your mother?” “My mother?” She laughed. “I think she'd understand better than you think.” Her laughter turned somber when she thought of how cruelly she'd judged her mother. He stroked her cheek. “What's wrong?” “I guess I'm ashamed. All these years I assumed Mom had always been like she is now. Before we left, she told me....” “What?” “You don't know my mother at all, do you?” “Not really. I met her a few times at university functions, though Jumbo usually came alone. I've heard, from other faculty,” he said, seeming embarrassed to admit he'd gossiped about her family, “Jumbo kept his wife under wraps.” “He did,” Annabelle admitted. “Mom isn't ... strong. Daddy always said she wasfey . I never gave it much thought, except for wishing my mother were like everybody else's. Anyway, when I told her I was coming to Ireland with you, she guessed it all. Practically tossed me out the front door to get me on my way.” Gaelen frowned. “What did she tell you?” CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Gaelen listened as Annabelle recounted her mother's story. Many things started to become clearer. He'd always thought Susan Tinker seemed a bit fey, just as Jumbo had described her, but in a bad way—distracted, unfocused. Now he realized she showed the signs of one who'd seen his home world, been enchanted by it, and was never again able to function in the real one again. Another fairy mixing with a human woman. Annabelle's own mother. “Did this winged fellow have a name?” What made him ask? Annabelle pursed her lips. Gaelen looked away before he was hopelessly sidetracked by how kissable they were.

“It was a strange first name. The last name was O'...Shea.” “O'Shea?” Couldn't be. No one was more adamant about fairies keeping to their own kind than ... Gaelen hesitated, but he had to know. “Was his first name Eochy?” “That's it. Eochy O'Shea.” “Did she describe this Eochy O'Shea?” He hoped there was another fairy named Eochy O'Shea. “Mom said he was like a rooster.” “That's Eochy, all right.” Gaelen's sympathy for Susan Tinker eroded in the face of the anger building against Eochy. “Do you know him?” Annabelle asked. “Yes, I do.” He got off the bed and without even thinking squooshed and headed for an infinitesimal space in the window frame. Wham! He bounced back to the opposite wall, splatting against the landscape hanging over the fireplace. Forcing his rage to a calmer temperature so he wouldn't frighten Annabelle, he unsquooshed and waited a second for the lightheadedness to pass. He turned to her, carefully phrasing his request. “Annabelle, dear, would you be kind enough to sweep the salt off the sill?” With a silent nod, her eyes wide, she jumped off the bed to do as he asked. “Not on the floor, please. Sweep it into your hand and toss it into the fireplace.” “Okay.” She did as he bid, but took a wide circle around him. Gaelen frowned at her apparent apprehension.Fool! He should have prepared her. Sure he'd told her about it, but she'd never actually seen him squoosh. “I'll be back as soon as I can.” With that, not waiting for her reply, he squooshed again and headed for the space in the window frame. He took the Great Circle route to New Jersey, and he didn't stop until he reached the boulder covering the opening to the cave where the North American Federation held its meetings. Dashing under this minor impediment, Gaelen flew down the corridor. Why did he come here? Eochy would be in his big white house by the Potomac River at this time of day. But still Gaelen flew on toward the Great Meeting Hall. There were lights shimmering at the end of the corridor, signaling someone's presence. “Come on in, Gaelen. I've been waiting for you.”

Gaelen flew in and hovered for a moment. Eochy sat in his big chair at the Great Table. Ninety-nine chairs were empty between them. Unsquooshing, Gaelen took his time getting to his own chair at the Great Table, but he didn't sit down. He set his hands on the back, willing himself to stay calm. “Why?” he finally asked. “Why what?” Eochy asked in return, a smile playing on his lips. “You hypocrite,” Gaelen spat. “Have a care, lad. That's a serious accusation.” “What's the problem, Eochy? Can't face what you've done?” Gaelen glanced around. “Let's get the One Hundred in here. I'll say it again. Hypocrite!” Eochy jumped to his feet. His huge chair spun out behind him. “Take that back.” Gaelen held Eochy's gaze. “Never. You seduced Susan Tinker. Now you have the gall to try to send her daughter to Tir-Nan-Og for falling in love with Lucas.” “You know perfectly well that's not why she has to go. Lucas revealed his nature to her.” “And what did you do to Susan Tinker?” Eochy looked away. “I ruined her.” Gaelen knew he wasn't referring to anything sexual. “'Tis true. But Vern took care of her. He understood her.” Gaelen couldn't believe his ears. “I ought to pluck your wings out you heartless—” “I'm not heartless, Gaelen.” Eochy's eyes pleaded for understanding. He leaned against the table, his whole body begging. “That's why I forced the law through the Elders's Council. So no other woman could be hurt like that again.” Gaelen hardened his heart. “Well, it didn't work, did it?” “No. Because your brother didn't obey it.” “Here's a flash for you, Eochy. Neither have I. Now you try, you bantam rooster, to banishme to Tir-Nan-Og. If I go, you go.” Eochy blanched. “Sure, now it means something to you.” “The law doesn't work retroactively.” Well, Eochy was a lawyer in his spare time, wasn't he? “What do you think the Council of Elders will think of your situation, Eochy?” The expression on Eochy's face slackened in realization. Gaelen knew he had him. “Yes, we fairies have a grand sense of justice. You'll either fix this mess and take care of that dear woman, or I'll see you languishing in Tir-Nan-Og for a century or two. You've got until I get back from Ireland where I've got a mess of my own to clean up.” Gaelen squooshed and escaped before he could get around the Great Table to flatten Eochy.

~*~

Annabelle waited up for Gaelen's return. No way she could go to sleep after seeingthat . So that was squooshing. It was almost like he'd exploded. And the expression on his face was so...angry. Where was he going? And what was he going to do once he got there? The second question frightened her more than the first. She'd never seen him like that. He'd always been so even-tempered, even when dealing with— Well, no, he'd been about to strangle Dr. Duncan. That had been a Gaelen she'd never seen before, the same one who'd flown out of here. What if he didn't come back? What if hehad exploded? How many times could you squoosh your atoms before your atoms squooshed back? She shook that idea right out of her head. After all, she'd know—though she didn't know exactly how she'd know—if he'd ... if he wasn't coming back. She settled in for a long wait, prepared to be patient. Her eyelids grew heavy. She got up and sprinkled water from the antique washbasin on the dresser on her face and walked around the room to stay awake. On the tenth lap around the tiny bedroom, her eyes gritty, Annabelle sat on the bed. For someone fighting sleep, that was a mistake. The warm, marshmallow soft mattress beckoned her to rest, surrender to her fatigue. “No, I can't sleep until he's back,” she told herself, even as she gave up the fight against gravity and fell back on the crisp, clean white sheets. “Just for a minute. Oh, my eyes are so tired. I'll just close them for little while.” She woke from a sound sleep, snuggled into the warm body behind her. Gaelen snored softly in her ear, a rumbling sound she found comforting in an odd way. “Gaelen,” she whispered. “Gaelen, wake up.” She turned over so she could face him. In sleep, his handsome face seemed like that of a young boy. She looked her fill, soaking in the high brow, the wheat-gold hair with a hank dropped over his closed eyes. The strong jaw and the generous mouth, his full lips tipped in just a hint of a smile. What did a fairy dream about? He must have sensed her intense study of his face. His eyes cracked open. He squinted at her as he came awake. “Hello.” She brushed the wayward tendrils of gold off his brow. “Hello.” His smile widened at the touch of her fingers against his skin.

Annabelle moved toward him and, in some unspoken understanding, Gaelen wrapped her in his arms, rolled to his back and pulled her onto his chest. “Where were you?” He didn't answer immediately. She pulled away to look him in the eye. “I went to New Jersey to take care of some business.” “New Jersey? How in the world did you get to New Jersey and back so quickly?” “I flew. You saw me.” “You can fly that fast?” “Sure. All that energy pointed in one direction provides a hell of a boost.” “I guess,” she replied, impressed. “Do you fly at the speed of light?” “Don't know. Never been clocked. I can beat the Concorde by a good ways though.” “I suppose all fairies can fly that fast.” He seemed offended, and she hid a smile at his bruised masculine pride. “I suppose.” “What kind of business? Or is it none of mine?” she asked, not realizing until she'd said it how much she was really asking. “How can I tell you it's none of your business? Everything that affects me affects you.” They gazed into each other's eyes. Words became useless to them as they began to speak in a silent language of infinitely greater economy. Gaelen raised his hand to her face, stroking her skin with the backs of his fingers, smoothing away all worry. Lacing his fingers through her hair, he molded them to her neck, urged her to him. Annabelle followed him, giving herself over to his will. He was what she wanted, what she'd waited for. Even though she hadn't known him before, she'd known he was out there somewhere waiting for her. Their lips met in warm union, matching perfectly, as though made for each other, created from the same mold. Annabelle surrendered to the yearning to join him. Wherever it was he wanted her to go, whatever it was he wanted her to do, she knew she would, gladly. He probed gently, seeking her acquiescence. She opened to him, urging a deeper union between their two souls. Gaelen's tongue tasted, then sparred with hers, gently mimicking the joining of their bodies. Annabelle only barely felt the glide of Gaelen's fingers up the length of her leg, pushing her nightgown before them, and their movement along her waist, slipping inside her sensible cotton panties, now seeming

the most provocative of lingerie. His big hands massaged her flesh. She groaned. He groaned, the vibration tickling her lips. With more urgency, Gaelen pulled her to lie atop him, skinning her panties off her. Of course, Annabelle assisted him in this as she would anything he asked of her. Then her nightgown went in the opposite direction. Again she was more than willing to lean up, move right, left, whatever he needed her to do. “Annabelle,” he whispered against her lips. “Are you willing?” “Don't be stupid.” She gathered his face between her hands and sealed her answer with another kiss. “I've waited my whole life for you.” He wrapped her in an embrace fueled by passion and, Annabelle thought a bit foggily, some other more desperate motive. She pushed herself away and sat astride him. “Wait,” she whispered when he would have kept her from moving further away. “I want to see you, too.” Her fingers flew to his shirt, unbuttoning it as quickly as their clumsiness permitted, and she followed them with her lips, touching them to the warm golden skin of his chest as she revealed it to her hungry eyes. Gaelen raised his shoulders so Annabelle could pull his shirt off him, then he lay still, allowing her to do her will. She lowered his zipper, a tooth at a time. Every tiny click sounded loud as a gun shot in the silence. Their heavy breaths matched, one for one. Annabelle felt cool and realized she was sweating. Gaelen's face, too, glowed in the weak lamplight. “Get a move on, girl,” he growled. Annabelle smiled. Her heart sang. Her body thrummed with its own song, one ancient and earthy and sensual. A song telling the deepest secrets a woman knew, even if she had never heard them before. She pulled his trousers down the length of his long, strong legs, and shoved them to the floor. “Come here, darlin'. Come to me,” he asked, holding his arms open to her. She laughed, and it was the sound of her heart's song. She jumped into his arms and Gaelen laughed with her, their songs blending in a harmony as old as time. His mouth captured hers again, and this time he released his passion in a branding fire. He marked her for all time as his alone. She felt the fire melting any other allegiance, leaving only Gaelen. Their bodies touched, every inch in contact with the other. Her mind was too full of Gaelen to pay attention to anything else. He filled her eyes, her nose, her ears. Her hands could touch nothing else except for him. Her body seemed ready to disintegrate under the pressure. How much could one personfeel before she couldn't accept anything more?

She almost pushed him away, afraid of more, but he slipped beyond her questing fingers, settling a little lower on her. His tongue encircled the tip of her breast, and she writhed in ecstatic agony. His teeth gently nipped her. She cried out, not “No more,” but “Yes, Gaelen, yes!” His mouth suckled her. She thought she'd have to die now. Without words, without thought, her legs parted. Surely she didn't do that? But try as her brain might to slow this down out of self-defense, her body wouldn't listen. Gaelen growled and moved between her legs, taking her body's invitation. He kissed her again, tenderly, his lips barely touching her, his breath cooling her fevered brow. “My love,” he whispered, catching her lips again. Annabelle's heart took over and she enfolded him, pulling him to her with arms and legs and soul. Then he was inside her, and he possessed her—and she him—in a completely new way. They were one, joined together heart, soul, and body. The whole world, the entire universe, was right here in this bed, in this tiny room, in a cottage in a remote Irish village. And its sole inhabitants were Gaelen and Annabelle. She dared to open her eyes to look at him. He rested on his elbows, keeping his weight off her, and his eyes were open, too. They met, held, but for just a second. That one look was enough to push her over the edge into the splintering, glittering abyss. “Oh, Gaelen, love.” Her voice was a moan. The light around her changed. At first she thought it was the aftereffects, but she opened her eyes and her lips parted in wonder. Gaelen still loomed above her, but above him.... “Oh,” she whispered. She raised her hands over his shoulders to his iridescent, multicolored wings. Her fingers hesitated, then brushed the translucent material. “Oh,” she breathed again, stroking his wings with both hands. Gaelen's reply was a groan of exquisite pain, and he fell on her. His wings enfolded them both. They lay there for a bit, breathing deeply and evenly. “Bridget and Dagda,” he moaned at last. “Is that good or bad?” Annabelle asked. “Both.” Gaelen eased off her. He glanced back at his wings with a grimace. “What's wrong?”

“I think I might have torn one.” He actually blushed. “Aren't they supposed to come out like that?” “Not exactly.” She sat up. “Turn around and let me look. Where do they feel hurt?” He turned. Annabelle gave him a wide berth. Boy, did they ever spread. She wondered.... “Look at the root of the left one,” he said. “Maybe it's just pulled.” She pushed his left wing aside and peered at the place where it came out of his back, right at his shoulder blade. Tenderly, she pressed her fingers against his skin. He didn't react. “Right here?” she asked, pressing at the base of the wing. “Yeah. See anything?” “What, besides a fairy's wing? Nope, nothing special.” He favored her with a glare. “It's not funny.” “I'm sorry, honey.” The endearment slipped out, as though she'd been calling him sweet names forever. “Does it hurt a lot?” She rubbed his back, brushing her fingers against his wings, not exactly innocently. He jerked with every touch. “Stop that,” he said, not hiding his smile. “What? Are they ticklish?” “No,” he said, swallowing a laugh. “Oh, theyare ! How interesting.” “Stop it, you witch.” He turned, brushing her face with his wing, and grabbed her hands. “Teasin’ a poor innocent fairy lad.” “Innocent? Somehow, I doubt that!” He chuckled with her, then spread his wings behind him and lay down, pulling her with him, wrapping them both. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope. “What are they for?” she asked, fingering the flowing colors. “Careful there, or you'll find out what they're for,” he answered in a growl.

“Oh-ho! They're sexual organs, eh?” “Well, not totally. They're for ornamentation, luring a female, like feathers.” “But they're sensitive,” she added, gliding one fingertip along a vein. “Yes,” he said, grabbing her hands and holding them still. “Do they always come out when you, ah....?” “No.” He seemed embarrassed by this. “Actually, we're supposed to be able to control them by the time we're my age.” Ignoring the warning to let this matter go, Annabelle asked, “Why did you...?” “I didn't. They did.” He hugged her tighter, and seemed unwilling to say more, though after a moment, he added, “I haven't been taken like that since I was a lad. I'm not an innocent, Annabelle.” “I didn't think you were.” “I've known lots of women, fairy women all of them. And I had a fair regard for each one. But—” He stopped, his lips forming and discarding words. “But with you, it was....” “Yes, it was, wasn't it?” She let him off the hook and nuzzled his neck, inviting him to lose himself in her again. Gaelen tipped her chin up. “Now, we must sleep. We have a big job in the mornin'.” His lips drifted over hers, promising much more. Then he settled down, drawing Annabelle closer. She was content to remain in his embrace, their legs entwined, within the colorful cocoon of Gaelen's wings. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Wake up, love,” Gaelen kissed her forehead. “Time to get to work.” Annabelle woke, blinking against the lamplight. A glance at the velvet black just beyond the lacy curtains hanging at Mrs. O'Hara's guest bedroom window told her it was ... still night? They hadn't slept the day away, had they? “What time is it?” Gaelen glanced up at the window. “I'd say about four thirty.” “Four thirty? Why so early?” she asked over a yawn. “We have to be there before daybreak, ready to enter when the door opens. Come on, now. Up with you.”

With a stretch, she turned to Gaelen, still sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to come fully awake. He was already dressed. Sitting up, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him around, studying his back. “Where are they?” she asked. “I put them away. Ain't decent to be flashing ‘em around.” She smiled. “Well, just as long as you can get to them easily next time I want to see them.” He raised a dubious eyebrow. “So, you're only lustin’ after me wings, are you?” Studying him, she replied, “You do have other features to commend you to my attention.” “Indeed? Well, we'll just have to examine that further when we have time. But right now,” he leaned over and kissed her again, running the tip of one finger along the curve of her breast, “we need to get goin'. ‘Tis a good distance to therath .” “The what?” “Finnvarra's fortress. A ring fort, like Tara, but somewhat smaller.” “Oh.” She sat on the edge of the bed. “You go ahead to the bathroom first. I'm still waking up.” A yawn overcame her and she stretched deliciously. His eyes devoured her, filling her with an unexpected, but well-recognized burst of feminine pride. “Actually, my love, I have to beg a favor from you.” “Anything,” she said. “Could you sweep the salt away from the door?” He pointed to the white crystals lining the threshold. “I can't pass it.” “Why not?” she asked, still somewhat groggy. “How should I know? It's magic.” “No attempt to explain with nuclear physics?” “Nope.” Was it progress for Gaelen to acknowledge there might be no explanation? She got up to sweep away the salt and opened the door for him. He gingerly approached, sliding one toe forward and out the door into the hallway. “Thank you, love.” He kissed her lips, holding on and almost dragging her, buck naked, into the hall after him. “Hmmm. Keep my place for me.” She laughed and pushed the door shut.

After they'd taken turns in Mrs. O'Hara's tiny bathroom, they came downstairs, Annabelle carrying the bag. “And there they are, finally comin’ down the stairs.” Mrs. O'Hara grinned at them from her seat by the fire. “Mrs. O'Hara, you're up early. I hope we didn't disturb you,” Gaelen said. “Ach, no, sir. Auld ones as me need little sleep. Soon enough I'll have all the rest I can handle.” The old woman smiled. “I heard you stirrin’ and thought such an early start must mean some important business. No doubt you've business with the auld king? No, no,” she waved her hand. “No need to tell me anything about it. But you'll not be leavin’ my house wi’ no food in yer bellies.” She got up and tottered around, pulling three bowls and spoons from her cabinet, and went to the pot simmering over the fire. “'Tis naught but stew, warmed over it is, but good for not bein’ fresh cooked. Not what you Yanks are used to for breakfast, but it'll do you better than a gruel.” “Well, thank you, Mrs. O'Hara, we'll be glad for a bit of stew.” Gaelen ushered an intensely grateful Annabelle, suddenly aware of a ravening hunger, to the table where Mrs. O'Hara set a steaming bowl of stew before her. The old lady put a plate of bread in the middle. “There you are, my dears.” Mrs. O'Hara settled herself at the table and took up her spoon. As Annabelle ate, the old woman quizzed Gaelen. “You'll be goin’ up to the oldrath today?” Annabelle jerked a look at Gaelen who regarded Mrs. O'Hara calmly. The old woman nodded, “Yes, sir, go ahead and plumb away. I know you're in there,” she tapped a knobby finger against her temple. She took a spoonful of stew. “Who has the auld king ta'en this time?” “My sister-in-law,” Gaelen replied. Mrs. O'Hara nodded. “And you know how to get her out, do you?” Gaelen smiled. “I know a couple of ways.” The woman cackled. “Yes, I suppose you do.” She sobered. “But beware, sir, you don't seem so auld as the king. He is wily from dealing wi’ mortal ones for many centuries.” Annabelle lost her appetite. “Don't you worry, lass,” Mrs. O'Hara said. “From what I see, you have a gallant champion to fight for your sister.” “Are you done, darlin'?” Gaelen asked Annabelle. She nodded. Where had the sudden burden of fear come from? Gaelen rose and Annabelle followed. “Mrs. O'Hara,” he said to the old woman, “I don't know how long it'll be before our return.” She nodded at his words. Annabelle felt they were sharing a secret she had no part in. “If you're not here when we get back, I want you to know how much we've appreciated your help.”

“It has been no trouble a'tall, sir,” she replied. “Good huntin'.” Gaelen winked at her and smiled, and they left the old woman's house. They walked toward the car. Annabelle slowed. “Gaelen, what did that mean? What you said to her before we left? If she's not there?” “She's old, Annabelle. She may not be here.” Annabelle couldn't believe her ears. How could he be so cruel? “That's a terrible thing to say.” “She understood what I was saying.” “Why not explain it to me?” They'd reached the car. Gaelen popped the trunk and Annabelle dropped the bag inside. He slammed the lid and hit the electronic lock button on the key ring to unlock the doors. He didn't answer her question until they were on their way. “Once we enter therath , we're at Finnvarra's mercy. If he decides to, he can make a moment seem like a hundred years, or a hundred years like a moment. When we come out it could seem to those out here like we've been gone just a few minutes—or a few centuries.” He cut her a glance. “In fact, it's a risk, not to me, because I'm fairy, but to you. If Finnvarra decides to have time slow down in there, you won't know it, until you come out.” He stared at the road ahead of them. “What does that mean?” she asked. He took a deep breath. “It means, if he wants to, he can make sure you don't tell anybody anything about us. If he makes time slow down enough in there, say a couple of centuries,” he glanced at her and she could see the pain in his eyes, “you'll step out of therath , see the sun, and turn to dust.” “Dust?” He nodded. “There's a story, you see—” “Is there a story for everything here?” Gaelen considered her question. “Yes. Now, stop interrupting me. A fairy princess, Neve of the Golden Hair, took a liking to a comely lad by the name of Oisin, son of the great Irish warrior, Finn MacCool. She asked him to go with her to the land of her father, the king of the Land of Youth. He was so taken by love for her, he forgot every earthly thing and went with her. He was no more seen in Ireland for three hundred years, which passed for him but as a few weeks. Begging leave to visit his comrades, Oisin left the Land of Youth on a steed given him by his lover. Neve charged him not to leave the horse's back, or she would be forever cut off from him. With a kiss and a promise to return, Oisin set off. “He arrived in western Ireland at the place where his father's fortress had been, but found only a grassy mound. He rode on from that place, terror building in his heart, intending to traverse Ireland from west to east, in the hope of finding a familiar face.

“He came upon a group of men attempting to move a boulder. Being a generous lad, he rode up to lend his hand to their work. But as he heaved at the stone, his saddle girth broke and he tumbled off his mount. As he hit the ground, the white steed vanished and Oisin, no longer a young man, but old and withered and dim-eyed, was left behind.” Annabelle breathed to slow down her heart. He was telling her what could happen to her and for a moment all she could see was herself, old. Withered. Dim-eyed. “And you?” she was finally able to ask. “I'll be unaffected. I am what I am.” He drove in silence. “This is why we seem immortal, because our lives spent in Faerie take nothing from the time we spend here.” “Okay, I get the picture.” “The choice is yours, Annabelle. I can't say if we go in together what will happen when we come out. I can't say if I go in alone whether I'll come back with Erin in your lifetime.” “We go together,” she said, grasping at his hand. He brought her hand to his lips. He turned the Mercedes into a narrow path, two ruts leading to a rise. “Here we are. Knockma.” There was no sign of a fortress, only a grassy mound. As Gaelen said, it was like Tara, but Annabelle could see from a distance it was nowhere near the size of Tara's outer ring. Gaelen stopped and slammed the car into park. “Let's go,” he said, popping the trunk open as he got out. Annabelle followed. He let her take the bag out of the trunk. “Get the bottle of ointment out.” She got it and handed it to him. He'd wrapped it in a linen cloth that he now took off it. “Here's the plan,” he started. “Well, finally.” He spared her only a quick grimace. “I want you hidden from them as much as possible. So, take the ointment and put it on you.” “There's enough?” “Sure, but,” he hesitated. “Well, you'll have to take your clothes off.”

“What?” She stared at him. “You must be nuts. I'm not going to take my clothes off out here. What do you think I am?” “Darlin’ girl, I'm not any crazier about this than you are, especially now.” “Now? What about now?” “I don't fancy having my woman struttin’ about stark naked.” “My woman? Wait just a second, Dr. Riley—!” “We really don't have time for a long discussion of male-female roles in modern society, Annabelle. We can figure out our relationship later, after all this is taken care of and we have a future to plan for.” A future to plan for.Those words took all Annabelle's steam. Well, almost all of it. “Well, whether I'm your woman,” her cheeks flushed pleasantly at the sound of those words, “or not, I'm not taking my clothes off out here in the great outdoors.” “Then you'll have to wait while I go in alone.” “No.” “Then you'll have to do it my way.” “Why?” “Because I said so. And we don't have much time, so please make up your mind.” “Okay, tell me again why I have to be naked.” “Because we don't have enough ointment to conceal you clothed. You'll put it all over you, then the fairies won't be able to see you.” “You either?” “Me either. Of course, Erin will, and she might give you away, but that's a risk we'll have to take.” Annabelle thought about it for a moment. “Okay, if you're sure nobody else will be able to see me. What else then?” “I'll tell you as we get to it. Go ahead.” “Turn around,” she ordered him. “Annabelle, that's silly. I've seen you—” “Turn around.” He narrowed his eyes, but he turned his back to her. “Didn't think you'd get all fluttery on me.”

She ignored his jab and took the top off the bottle. It was about the size of a sample bottle of hand lotion, so she carefully measured out a dime-sized dollop and with a stingy fingertip, dotted it on her face, smoothing it over her skin. Moving down an inch at a time, she modestly covered herself until she was fairly sure she was hidden from fairy sight. This is really stupid,she said to herself. Fairies. If she hadn't seen Gaelen's wings with her own eyes, she might throw up her hands right now. If Erin hadn't been taken away.... Reminded of their purpose for being here, no matter the personal developments, Annabelle moved on, finally dabbing her toes with the ointment. “Okay, I think I'm ready,” she said. Gaelen turned around. And he started laughing. “What?” she asked, twisting around. “Nothing. It's just, well, you look like a disembodied wig floating around in space. Here,” he said, taking the bottle from her and pouring a few drops on his palm. “Turn around, love.” When she did, he snickered. “Gaelen,” she warned. “I'm sorry, love,” he leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck. How had he known where it was? “Just stand still for me.” He ran his fingers through her hair, massaging the ointment in. Removing his hands from her hair, she started to move and nearly jumped when she felt his hands stroking down her back, her backside, the backs of both legs. “There. That's it. Can't see a thing.” Annabelle held up her hand in front of her face. “Gaelen, I can still see me.” “Yes.” “Is there some way I couldn't?” “Poor shy baby,” he cooed and removed the bottle from the pocket where he'd just slipped it. He put a single drop on his fingertip. “Look here and guide my hand to your eye.” He applied the ointment to her eyes just as he had that night in the hospital when Erin disappeared and that thing—the changeling—took her place. “Thank you,” she sighed in relief. “You're welcome,” he replied, a smile in his voice. “What now?”

“We wait.” Gaelen leaned up against the car, crossing his arms. Annabelle joined him, jerking back from the feeling of cold metal against her— “What are we waiting for?” “The folk to gather.” They sat there as the black of night melted into indigo, then blue, which gave way to pink and red as the sun began to rise. Gaelen made a motion with his head. Annabelle followed his sign. Coming out of the forest was a host of beings, nearly all with their wings out, reflecting the rising sun in a wild palette of color. “Looks like he sent out invitations,” Gaelen growled. “Well, time to put my game face on.” He pushed himself away from the hood of the car and took off his jacket, tossing it through the open window of the car. He wore a tunic of purest white, bordered with gold. Golden threads wove through, shimmering in the breaking day. With a wink, he shook his shoulders and spread his wings. If it were possible, they were even more impressive here in the open field than they had been sprouting over her last night. Annabelle pushed that memory out of her head for right now. They had a mission to accomplish before they could consider anything else. Gaelen knelt down and shoved her clothes into the bag containing the knife and the salt. Cinching it up, he smiled at her. “Let's go, champ.” Gaelen led her to the end of the line of fairies entering therath . He glanced around and stopped by the door. He held the bag open. “Take the knife and stick it into the doorpost. Take a good stab, now, so it won't fall out.” “What's this,” she stabbed at the doorpost “supposed to do?” “Only a mortal can remove it. It's made of iron. Fairies can't touch it.” “Wait a minute. You've been speeding around in a car that contains oodles of iron.” “Steel, my sweet. Mixing the iron with carbon degrades its power. And to tell the truth, there's probably not a little bit of aluminum in that car.” He led her through the door. “Stay by me, even when you see Erin. Don't make a sound. And don't eat anything.” They walked along a corridor. Annabelle, though she couldn't see herself, shivered at the feeling of the cool air rushing over her naked skin. But she bit her tongue.No complaining now. We're here to rescue Erin and Lucas. At last they were doing something.

She followed Gaelen into a huge hall, filled with light. She could see through Gaelen's wings the light was coming from stones embedded in the walls ringing the top of the hall. People sat at long tables, their clothing shining, wings reflecting the light of the stones. She looked around the hall. There was only one person she needed to see. She caught her breath as she spied Erin sitting beside a tall throne-like chair. “Gaelen, there she is.” “Shhh, I saw her. Where is Lucas?” She scanned the room. “I don't see him.” “Neither do I.” Gaelen frowned as his eyes ran over the room, seeking his brother's face. “Looks like the show is about to start.” Annabelle followed his nod to a doorway hidden in the wall, open now, through which an older man passed, followed by twelve others all garbed in splendid purple and gold. “Finnvarra and the Council of Elders,” Gaelen explained to her in a whisper behind his hand. Annabelle's attention went back to her sister. Erin sat quietly, strangely not like Erin at all. She wore a gown of silver, and one of those pointy hats fairy princesses wore. She was so beautiful, and yet, somehow, she wasn't Erin. The Council of Elders finished their entrance and took their seats at the high table on the dais where King Finnvarra sat on his throne, Erin at his side. He smiled down at her and stroked her hair, as one would a pet cat. Erin's smile in return was wan, not the thousand-kilowatt smile her sister usually wore. “What's he done to her?” “She's been enchanted. Probably to make her easier to handle,” Gaelen explained. “How do we fix her?” “I don't know, yet.” Gaelen glanced around. “When you get the chance, take the bag and try to get closer to her. I'll keep the crowd busy.” “Okay.” She frowned. “Why can't I just walk over to her? They can't see me.” “They can see the bag, sweets.” “Oh,” she said, feeling extremely stupid. But heck, being invisible was a new experience. “Not to mention we don't know if Erin can see you or not. I'd guess not as long as she's enchanted, but I can't be sure.” Annabelle nodded invisibly. “Bring in the defendant.”

Annabelle looked up at the voice. It was one of the Council. He sat nearest the king's throne. The door in the wall opened again. Lucas was led out between two brawny fairies. His hands were bound behind him. He bore bruises on his face and one eye was swollen shut. Gaelen swore softly. Annabelle dittoed the feeling. “Have you an advocate, Lucas Riley?” “No.” “Yes!” The crowd turned toward them as Gaelen's voice rumbled through the cavernous chamber. Gaelen began to push his way through the crowd, wings spread wide. Annabelle followed in his wake. “State your name and your business before this Council.” “I am Gaelen Riley. The defendant is my brother. I claim the right to speak on his behalf.” “Granted.” Gaelen and Annabelle went to Lucas's side. Annabelle took the bag from Gaelen's hand. He winked good luck in her general direction and turned back to Lucas. She slipped behind the tapestry covering the bare rock wall, swallowing a shriek at the cold against her bare backside. Not daring to breathe, lest she attract attention to herself, she hugged the frigid wall, wishing herself able to squoosh as Gaelen did. She waited for something to happen to distract the crowd from any movement she might make. She was so close to Erin, she couldn't make a mistake now. ~*~

“What say you, Lucas Riley, to the charge of revealing your nature to a mortal woman?” “Guilty.” Gaelen spoke up for his client. A rumble of comment greeted this plea. “Thanks, big brother,” Lucas muttered. “I know what I'm doing.” Gaelen stood, watching the tapestry ripple as Annabelle made her way over to the side of the room where Finnvarra—the ancient lecher—had Erin seated at his feet like a poodle. “You see, he admits it!” Gaelen wasn't in the least surprised to see Lucas's accuser was none other than Linette Duncan. “Since when do we allow,” he threw her a dismissive glance, “pixies to speak in the Council?”

Linette fairly bubbled with indignant rage, but kept her mouth shut. “This is true,” one of the minor councilors said. “Is there no fairy to speak on this matter?” Gaelen waited. No one spoke to accuse his brother. Maybe it would just pass, and they could party. Fairies love a good party. He could sure use a stiff drink. “I will.” The voice was the mercenary who'd been in Linette's pay. Gaelen turned to meet her self-satisfied smirk. “The lad did reveal himself to the lovely little girl.” “Are you a witness to this event?” “Yes, Councilor.” “He's a liar!” Lucas sprung from his seat, his hands, tied with seaweed, Gaelen noted with a grimace, still bound behind him. “Sit down, Lucas,” Gaelen said, setting his hand on Lucas's shoulder and pressing him down. “My Lord High Councilor, could we dispense with the rather smelly handcuffs? I believe the stuff is beginning to rot.” “Certainly.” The High Councilor motioned to the guards, who came behind Lucas with a large bone knife. They sawed through the seaweed and Lucas's arms fell to his sides. “Sweet Bridget,” he moaned, gingerly rolling his shoulders. Gaelen got up and stood behind Lucas, rubbing feeling back into his arms and leaning down to whisper in his brother's ear, “Now, keep your mouth shut.” Lucas threw Gaelen a blazing glare, which Gaelen ignored. He walked back in front of the bench where they'd been seated. “My Lord High Councilor, Councilors, Your Majesty,” he bowed to Finnvarra. “My brother has indeed broken the law against revealing our natures to mortal folk. But I believe I can convince you of two things tonight. First, that such an error was not intentional on Lucas's part. And second, that the law itself has not served Faerie as it should have, and it is time for its repeal.” “Indeed, Gaelen.” The High Councilor motioned for him to proceed. “My Lord,” Linette spoke up, “there can be no explanation—” “Pixie!” the High Councilor thundered, “you have been warned. Speak once more in this assembly and you will be punished.” Linette snapped her mouth shut. Gaelen grinned. He simply couldn't help it, but he did manage to hide it from the High Councilor, who was not in the best of moods at the best of times.

“My Lord, my brother was indeed involved with this lovely young woman.” Gaelen strolled over to where Erin sat. She smiled up at him, clearly not recognizing him. Worse than he'd thought. “He had not told her of his nature, realizing the penalty of the law would fall most grievously on the woman he loved.” “Yet, he didn't break off with her.” “No, my Lord, he didn't. And what man among us can look upon this sweet woman and not understand his plight? How many times in our history has one of our number been taken by the beauty or sweetness or generosity of a mortal?” Heads nodded. The crowd was with him. “Remember the story of Neve of the Golden Hair, who loved Oisin, the son of Finn? Or of Midir, seeking the reborn Etain, a mortal woman, and the battle he had to fight with her mortal husband to keep her?” Oops. Bad example. Better keep moving forward. “Lucas's only crime here is love. Love, my Lord, which we celebrate in song and poem. He loved greatly and with his whole heart, even to disaster.” Gaelen strode to the front of the hall. “And yet, is disaster a necessary end? Especially when the crime is,” he sighed, “love?” “My Lord.” It was Frank, Linette's pet mercenary. “This man is not a fit advocate for his brother. He is guilty of the same crime. He has revealed himself to a mortal woman. The sister of this woman, in fact.” “This is true, my Lord,” Gaelen was quick to cut in, “and so I am pleading not only for brother, but for myself, and for all of our kind who have made lives in the mortal realm, and who find our heart's mate there.” The women sighed. Back on track. “In fact, my Lord, let me speak of myself now.” “Why don't you, Gaelen?” the High Councilor suggested. “Sir, my brother can testify to this. I had forgotten my roots. I despised Faerie and the gifts of being a fairy. I buried myself in mundane work, not caring for beauty or nature.” He set one foot on the bottom step of the dais and leaned forward. “My Lord, I was dying. My soul was dust. Then a woman came into my life who showed me the beauties I'd separated myself from for the sake of leading my mundane life. She showed me wonder and reminded me of what I am. I love her. And I will be with her. Either in the mortal world or in the Land of Youth.” He turned back to the crowd. They were fairies all, hanging on his words, tears in their eyes. “What do we fairies do the best? We feel. We feel with a depth mortals cannot bear. Our greatest feat has been to grasp for love whatever the cost.” The crowd burst forth in applause. The Council of Elders rose with them. Linette looked fit to spit fire. Her pet mercenaries stood behind her, applauding and weeping with the rest until she skewered them with a glare.

When he could be heard above the crowd, the High Councilor spoke. “Very well, Gaelen. You have made your case for your brother. Perhaps we should allow the girl to decide.” He turned to Finnvarra. “Your Majesty, please remove the enchantment on the girl.” Finnvarra did not appear pleased by this development. “Very well, my Lord.” He sprinkled magic dust on Erin's head and she shivered, then stretched as though just waking up. “My child,” the High Councilor asked her, “have you heard the testimony?” “No, sir.” Erin glanced around the hall and down at her clothes, appearing confused. “Would you like to leave here?” “Oh, no!” Finnvarra gave Gaelen a smirk. Just then, the tapestry rippled behind Finnvarra's head. “Oh, no,” Gaelen muttered. A box of salt appeared over Erin's head and a wild sprinkle had Finnvarra leaping over the arm of his throne to get out of the way. Gaelen could see the spell being broken, as Erin's eyes cleared and she jumped up, curious and stunned. He might have known Finnvarra would cheat. “Lucas! Where are we?” Erin looked around at the assembly and the hall. “Wow.” But her whisper of admiration turned to a yelp as her arm jerked to the side and she was forced to follow it. Her eyes widened in shock. “Annabelle! You're naked!” “What?” Lucas stood, staring. “Time to go, little brother.” Gaelen grabbed Lucas's arm and plowed through the crowd, now on their feet watching Erin being dragged by an invisible force from the hall. That's my girl, Annabelle,he thought, approving her haste. Almost out the door, just a few more steps, and they'd be ahead of everybody and home free as long as the knife was still in the doorpost. In slow motion almost, he could see Linette dashing after Annabelle, a bucket in her hand. “No! Annabelle, look out!” Did his words of warning even leave his throat? Linette pitched the contents of her bucket at Annabelle's head. Gaelen watched in horror as the bucketful of spring dew washed away enough of the magic of the ointment that Annabelle's shadowy outline became clear. There was her head, her face, her sweet neck, her perfect shoulders....

Gaelen grimaced as he waited for the rest. He'd promised her she wouldn't be seen. He dashed for her and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the safety of the outside. Two spots of light dashed ahead of them, materializing as Frank and Sean, those traitorous mercenaries from Cork. Gaelen pushed Annabelle behind him and faced the two. “Good speech back there, laddie. But you see we have our orders.” “Come ahead, then, lads,” Gaelen said. Lucas stood beside him and they faced the two mercs. The crowd from the hall pressed behind them. Linette hung back, and made Gaelen more nervous than these two brawny lads, with all their rippling muscles. “This is going to be brutal,” Lucas whispered. “Nonsense, there's only two of them. And they're from Cork. How bad can it be?” “See my eye?” Lucas asked. Annabelle's shadowy head and shoulders dashed around him, her saltbox held high in an invisible hand. The mercs stood back, giving her a wide berth, Erin followed her. Good girl,he thought.Run. Get out of here. “Let's go, Gaelen,” she called to him. “Come on, Lucas!” Erin echoed her. Gaelen made a move to get around the mercs. “Oh, no, laddie. You've insulted Cork. We've got to have it out now.” “Annabelle, get the hell out of here!” Gaelen roared at her. “I'm not leaving you.” “Ach, ain't it beautiful, Sean?” “Sure and ‘tis, Frank.” The mercs closed on Gaelen and Lucas, herding them back into the tunnel. “Annabelle, go. We'll be fine.” “No!” Erin shouted. “Annabelle, remember the knife. Therath will stay open until you pull it out.”

“Come on, Erin,” she said, to Gaelen's great relief. “No! I won't leave Lucas.” “Erin, you must go,” Lucas told her, his good eye on the mercs. “We can get ourselves out, but you have to go while you have the chance.” Annabelle pulled her on out of the tunnel toward the light of the opening. CHAPTER NINETEEN

It was dark. How long had they been in there? Annabelle ran to the car, dragging poor, screaming Erin after her. It didn't look much different than it had when they'd left it. Maybe it hadn't been centuries, then. “Erin, shut up!” she screeched, reaching the very end of her rope. “Please shut up and let me think.” Erin shut up, but she didn't look happy about it. Annabelle looked around the car for the keys, terrified Gaelen had kept them on him. They were in the damned bag. She just knew it. And the bag was still lying on the damned floor beside the damned throne where the damned king had sat with Erin at his feet like a damned lap dog. “Damn!” “May I speak now?” Erin asked, a frown wrinkling her brow. “Yes, you may, if you can manage to keep from becoming hysterical.” She fixed Annabelle with a glare, which gladdened Annabelle's heart significantly. The old Erin was back. “Where are we? What are you doing here?” Her eyes traveled in a disapproving study up and down Annabelle's body. “Naked? How did I get into this ridiculous dress?” “We're in Ireland. Gaelen and I came here to save you from an eternity of joy and peace. I'm assuming King Finnvarra either dressed you like a Barbie doll or had someone else do it. Anything else?” “Why are you running around the countryside stark naked?” “Please don't remind me.” Annabelle glanced in the car. There was Gaelen's jacket. “I still don't understand any of this,” Erin wailed. “Aha!” Annabelle pulled the keys out of Gaelen's jacket pocket. “Get in. We've got stuff to do.” “What?” Erin asked as she folded her gown into the car.

“Research.” She threw the car into reverse and backed out to the main road. “But first, I've got to get some clothes and take a bath.” “What? Lucas and Gaelen are being pulverized by those thugs and you need a bath?” “I'll explain everything.” “You'd better. I'm getting a headache from all this.” Annabelle drove back to town and parked right in front of Mrs. O'Hara's house, driver's side closest to the door. She pulled Gaelen's jacket over her shoulders, hoping it was long enough to hide most of her from prying eyes and dashed to the door. “Spread your dress out and walk close behind me,” she instructed Erin. “Right,” Erin replied in a crisp voice, as though they were on a military mission. The door was open, and she and Erin dashed up the stairs as Mrs. O'Hara watched them, open-mouthed from the fireplace. Annabelle heard the front door close as they ducked into the bedroom. “Maybe if salt breaks magic, it'll weaken the ointment,” she muttered to herself, but loud enough for Erin to hear. “Magic? I think it's your turn to spend a week or two in the psycho ward, sis.” “Maybe I will. I could use the rest.” Annabelle peeked out the door and crossed the narrow hallway to the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water. She poured in a liberal amount of the salt and stirred it with her hand. She couldn't tell, because she still had ointment in her eyes, but she thought her hand was becoming more visible by the second. She turned the water off and stuck a toe in, then her leg, then her whole body. “Ah, oh, ooh, yummy.” She settled back, closing her eyes and letting her tired muscles warm up and loosen. “Annabelle, may I come in?” “Sure. I think there's room, as long as I stay in the tub.” Erin peeked around the doorway. She'd shed her pointy hat and the gown, and was wearing Annabelle's nightgown. Annabelle blushed at the thought of what she'd been doing the last time she'd had it on. “Can you explain all this?” Erin asked, her voice very small. “Have a seat,” Annabelle motioned to the toilet. Erin set the cover down and sat. Annabelle took a deep breath and said, “Well, it's like this, Erin, my dear sister—we've both fallen in love with fairies.” “Fairies?”

Annabelle nodded, splashing water over her face and into her eyes to clear her vision. “Yep. Winged, magical, however, definitelynot bug-sized, fairies. That place where you were is a palace of a fairy king called Finnvarra. He apparently likes mortal women. He fed you something, didn't he?” “I don't remember,” Erin said. “I guess so, though.” “Well, as Gaelen explained it to me, once you eat fairy food, you can't escape. Unless somebody unenchants you, like I did by pouring salt on your head.” “Fairies?” Erin asked, obviously unconvinced. “Is that worse than space aliens?” “Yes! I could tell people that! How can I say I'm in love with a fairy.” “Like this: I'm in love with a fairy.” Erin stared at her. “You really are, aren't you?” Annabelle smiled. “But you left him there.” “Not for long.” Annabelle sank back into the tub, her mind racing. Erin sat silent for a few moments. “Well? What are we going to do?” “I have to find somebody who can tell me a story,” Annabelle said. “Now Iknow you've gone nuts.” Annabelle ignored her. “Go rest, Erin. You're going to need it.” Her soak lasted an hour. Plenty long enough for every bit of ointment to be rendered useless by the salt in the water. She dried off and wrapped the damp towel around her, then crossed the hallway to the bedroom. Erin lay on the bed, obediently resting, but she opened her eyes when Annabelle closed the door. “Is my lady finished with her bath?” Erin asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Yes, sirrah. Oh, that's a guy, isn't it?” Annabelle quickly dressed and offered Erin second pickings from her suitcase. When her sister was more modernly attired, she said, “Let's go.” “Where are we going?” “To the pub, of course.” Mrs. O'Hara was snoring away in the front bedroom, so the Tinker sisters crept out, gingerly latching the door behind them. They hurried to O'Looney's pub and sidled up to the bar. “Hello, Jocko,” Annabelle called to the bartender.

“Ah, missus. And where is your gentleman this evening?” “He's detained.” She pulled Erin beside her. “Erin, this is Jocko O'Looney, the proprietor of this fine establishment. My sister, Erin Tinker.” “Ach, and a fine Irish lass she is. My pleasure, Miss Tinker.” “Mine, too.” “What'll you have tonight, missus?” “Whatever you have in the kitchen and two pints.” “Comin’ right up. Here, you laggard, give the lady her table,” he shoved a patron off the chair at the table Annabelle and Gaelen had used the night before—orhad it been the night before? —and as smoothly as themaître d' at the Ritz, settled the two women in their seats. “Why are we here instead of rescuing Lucas and Gaelen?” Erin asked in an irritated whisper. “Because, we don't know how. If Gaelen had just told me what to do in a situation like this...!” “Here you are, ladies,” Jocko said, setting two bowls of a thick soup and some fresh crusty bread in front of them. He reached over to the bar where the maid had just set two frothy pints of ale. “And your ale. Will there be anything else?” “As a matter of fact, Jocko, there is.” Annabelle pulled a chair out for him and patted the seat. Jocko, obviously intrigued, took a seat. “I need some information of a rather, ah, unusual nature.” Jocko raised his eyebrows. “Indeed?” “Well, my husband—” She waved down Erin's expression of astonishment. “He was telling me about a rath just outside of town. Do you know it?” “Ah, you mean, Knockma?” “Yes,” she rewarded him with a smile. “Tell me, is there a way of, well, do you know any stories about it?” “Ach, sure'n every Irishman knows stories about Knockma. Lady Wilde, Oscar's ma you know, she writ many a story about the good folk and their doin's.” Annabelle took a taste of the soup. “Ah, Jocko, this is so good!” She took a big spoonful, making yummy sounds to win him over. “So, is there one, say, where a mortal has to get someone out?” “Sure. Let's see, there's the one about the abducted bride. That's for sure a favorite.” Jocko was on autopilot from there. No need to even prompt him. “You see, Finnvarra had stolen a mortal woman from her husband, a prince of these parts. The prince tracked her to Finnvarra's palace and set about digging the wholerath apart to retrieve his love. But

every morning, no matter how hard his men worked, no matter how much earth had been moved, when they came back, it was as though the ground had never been touched. “The young prince was ready to die out of grief and rage, but then he heard a voice saying, ‘Sprinkle the earth with salt and your work will be safe.’ Another voice added, ‘Finnvarra is anxious because he knows if a mortal man strikes hisrath with a spade, therath will crumble to dust and fade away like the mist.'” The two sisters gazes locked. “Thanks, Jocko.” Annabelle jumped up, digging through her pockets for some money. “Where can I get a spade?” “A spade? I have one.” “May I borrow it? Or buy it?” Jocko narrowed his eyes at her. “Is it after auld Finnvarra you're bound?” Annabelle nodded. “You'll not be goin’ there alone, just the two of you.” Jocko jumped on the bar. “Listen up, lads. These two ladies here are having trouble with auld Finnvarra. Time for us to make a trip to therath .” Annabelle exchanged a startled glance with Erin. “Jocko,” she started. Jocko held up his hand. “Don't you be worried, missus. We been dealing with the good folk for longer than, well, longer than anything. Who is it bein’ held there?” Annabelle hesitated, “My husband and brother-in-law.” “Aha. Finnvarra's tastes must be changing, lads.” A roar of laughter, lubricated by many pints of ale, rocked the pub. Annabelle wasn't sure she wanted this whole semi-drunken mob following her to therath . “Jocko, I'm sure with the information you've given me, I can handle this myself.” “Not at all, Missus. I'm here to help. Can't have our fairies troublin’ the tourists, now can we?” He was absolutely serious. “Come along, lads.” He reached behind the bar and pulled out a spade. With a wink at the Tinkers, he said in a whisper, “Always be prepared, eh?” With that, he led the whole population of his pub out into the street and through the town toward therath . Annabelle and Erin ran to keep up with the crowd of men. When they arrived at therath , Jocko waved them up. “Who's knife is that?” He pointed at the blade buried in the doorpost.

“Mine,” Annabelle said. “Well, done, lass.” He stepped back, and gave her a wave, as though handing the show over to her. “Call out to the old sod, missus. Tell him what you want and what you're going to do if he don't answer right proper.” Erin echoed this with a go-ahead motion of her own. Annabelle approached the open doorway. She glanced back at Erin and Jocko. They both gave her a thumb's up. Go get ‘em, Tiger. She took a deep breath, both for sustenance and for time. “Finnvarra, I want Gaelen and Lucas Riley released to me immediately.” Her words hung in the air, mocked by the laughing breeze. “Finnvarra, I've got a lot of good lads here, all with shovels and plenty of salt. We're ready to dig you out.” The laughter grew louder in the trees. “Then we'll sink a spade in yourrath .” The laughter grew softer, then died. A whisper took its place. Annabelle could hear a man's voice in it. Damn. I thought they'd have forgotten about that by now. Cheered by those words, Annabelle plunged on. “And when we've wrecked your palace, Finnvarra, I'll bring my buddies in the press. Let's see,The National Enquirer? The Sun ? Geraldo Rivera could lead a live tour of your palace.” The whisper in the breeze grew to the urgent vibrations of many voices. She heard accusation and anger in them. Release them! We'll be ruined. They'll destroy us. We should strike first. No! We could not. Release them! Release them! Annabelle turned back to the crowd who'd followed her to give them a smile of encouragement. Then her mouth fell open in horror. They were all frozen in place, as though in suspended animation.

Annabelle was suddenly alone facing all of Faerie. And Jocko had the spade. CHAPTER TWENTY

Annabelle turned back to the yawning doorway. It was still open, held by the iron knife. A light glimmered far down the tunnel, coming toward her. She ran back to Erin and grabbed the saltbox from her sister's frozen fingers. “Erin!” She waved her hand in front of Erin's face. Not even a blink. “Okay. Be calm.” She waited for the light to arrive, with whatever was coming with it. The High Councilor emerged from the tunnel, his wings retracted for now. “What have you done to them?” Annabelle asked, a wave of her hand indicating the gathered crowd behind her. “Nothing.” He raised his hand at her expression of disgust. “Really. We've done nothing to them. We've just expanded our circle a bit so we can have time to talk.” “I'm speeded up, too?” she asked, her spine tingling with the realization of the risk she was taking. He nodded. “How much older you get with respect to them,” he motioned toward the crowd, “depends on how quickly we can conclude this mess.” He planted his feet and stared at her. “What do you want?” “I already told you. Gaelen and Lucas.” “That's all?” He didn't look convinced. “What else could I want?” “Riches, fame, glory.” “You could give me that?” she asked. He smiled a knowing smile. “So, you can be bought?” “Asking a question isn't the same as offering a price.” “Quite so. What do you want?” “Gaelen and Lucas.” “Why?” She frowned in confusion.Why?

The High Councilor became impatient. “Come, girl, if you don't know why you want them, why bother?” “If I understand your question, I want Lucas for my sister, who loves him.” “And Gaelen?” “I want Gaelen for myself.” He stared at her, his face expectant. “I want Gaelen because I love him.” “What about our law?” “What about it?” “They have broken the law, and we must protect ourselves.” “Phooey! I've heard all about your law, and it's hokum.” His expression was such she might as well have disparaged his ancestors. “Haven't you people ever heard of Descartes?” “I went to grade school with him,” the High Councilor intoned. Annabelle grabbed her quickly escaping courage. “Then you know your existence is no more provable than ours. ‘I think, therefore I am.’ It's that simple. Your existence is not dependent on a mortal believing.” “Easy for you to say, mortal woman.” “I didn't say it. Your school chum Descartes did.” Seizing her advantage, she continued, “As far as not revealing yourselves, you do it all the time. You have mortals you call favorites.” “Yes.” “You reveal yourselves to them. Is every fairy who reveals himself to a favorite breaking your law?” The High Councilor frowned. “What do you know of favorites?” “My father, Vern Tinker, was a favorite.” The High Councilor stepped closer to her, his eyes studying her face. “You're Jumbo Tinker's girl?” Annabelle replied with a nod. “And that is your sister?” “Yes, sir,” she replied regaining her voice. He nodded and became serious. “He was a great friend to our people. A great favorite. Seems only right his daughters should also be favorites.” She didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant because the High Councilor went on.

“You have spoken truly.” He motioned to the doorway. “You won't bring Geraldo Rivera, will you?” Stifling a giggle, she answered, “No, not if I get what I came for.” “And after they come out, you'll remove the knife?” Annabelle nodded agreement. “All right.” He swirled in a flash of robes and disappeared. Only a flicker of light showed where he'd stood. It flew through the doorway. In a moment, two flashes of light emerged, one hovered over Annabelle, while the other went on to Erin. Suddenly, Gaelen stood before her, weaving and holding one palm to his forehead. “Whew! I need a vacation,” he said, wrapping his free arm around Annabelle's shoulders. Smiling down at her, he kissed her forehead and whispered, “Hello, my heroine.” Annabelle couldn't speak, she was so overcome with joy and relief and just plain pleasure to see him again. She threw her arms around his neck and held on for dear life. ~*~

Inside King Finnvarra's palace, his queen, Onagh, slipped into her chambers and dumped the sack on her bed. The naked mortal woman had left it behind, and Onagh was eaten by curiosity. Carefully she pawed through it, but found only clothing. A tunic, some long faded blue trousers, and some linens. They were very colorful. She held up a...? “What is this?” Onagh positioned the tiny piece of cloth over every part of her body, but it only seemed made for one. She blushed as she glanced to make certain none of her ladies were coming in. They were obviously still watching the debate going on between the mortal woman and the High Councilor. Onagh shucked off her gown and stepped into the strange garment. The triangular scrap of cloth in the front covered her femininity, almost. She stood before the mirror and turned. Scandalized and thrilled at the same time, she saw her buttocks were bare. How naughty! Smiling a secret smile, Onagh reached for the other garment. A wine red color, it was a band with two cups attached. Well, no mystery what they were for. She fitted the cups over her breasts and struggled to attach the band behind her. After many fruitless attempts, she reversed things and attached the band in front, then turned the band around until the cups were again in front. Then she slid her arms through the shoulder straps. “Wow!” she whispered, gazing at herself in the mirror. Her breasts seemedmuch larger.

She heard the angry footfall of her husband. Onagh had long suffered through Finnvarra's interest in mortal women.Well, this day , she vowed,he would be interested in her. “Damn!” Finnvarra came into their chamber and threw himself on the bed. He flopped onto his back and his gaze fell upon his wife. “Damn,” he whispered, his meaning totally different. “What happened toyou ?” “Don't you like it?” Mouth hanging open like a starving man, Finnvarra nodded. “Very much, my queen.” “Too bad about the mortal girl,” she offered. “What mortal girl?” Finnvarra asked, his eyes for Onagh alone. EPILOGUE

The earthy breeze blew off the river. The golden sun warmed and lit the ground. A perfect day for a flying lesson. Gaelen glanced back at the big white house where his mother-in-law now lived with her new husband. There had been some big-time payback she'd required, but Eochy had survived. If his expanding gut was any indication, he was thriving. Lucas and Erin sat on a blanket under a willow tree, their newborn son, Michael Vernon, lying between them.There was a marriage that didn't happen a day too soon , Gaelen grinned. He swept the area, looking for Annabelle. She'd been begging for this for months, ever since she'd had a chance to settle down and remember everything her mother had told her about her own voyage to the Land of Youth. And she hadn't stopped nagging Gaelen until he'd agreed to find out from Eochy how he'd done it. He'd been surprised at how easy it was. Of course, she was a favorite, so Gaelen had to honor her request. She came skipping down the walk from Eochy's house, a wide smile on her face, its light even warmer than the sun. “Ready?” he said, holding out his hand to her. “Yep.” Holding her hand, he led her to the edge of the cliff. “Remember, now, you can't open your eyes. And you have to believe.” Annabelle gazed at him, eyes bright and twinkling. “You know I believe in you.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his lips. “Let's go!” She closed her eyes and held onto his hand.

Gaelen judged the breeze and unfurled his wings. Seems his ol’ da had forgotten to tell him they could be used to glide. He stepped forward toward the edge of the cliff. Annabelle followed, no hesitation in her step. Her smile was, as ever, full of wonder and anticipation. If anything, it was Gaelen who was a bit uncertain about this, but he'd never let her down. So, he leaned out into the uplifting breeze off the cliff face and stepped out. Annabelle followed. “Whe-e-e-e-e!” Annabelle's voice sang above the wind. Lucas and Erin, Eochy and Susan, stood at the top of the cliff and waved, laughing and calling. Gaelen glided along the river, down and then up. “Bridget! I feel like Superman!” he laughed. Annabelle laughed with him and turned, her eyes open and smiling. “You're not supposed to be looking,” Gaelen said, trying to scold. “Nonsense. I knew you could do it. Why not look?” And she did, her eyes taking in sights seen only from such a height. “Time to go back?” he asked. “No, please?” She was a favorite, after all. How could he refuse? ~The End~ About the author of Just Believe...

Anne Manning believes she was a Texan in a previous life. Most of her books are set in her beloved Texas, where she has lived with her family since 1999. Anne was a finalist in 1998 in Romance Writers of America's Golden Heart contest and saw that novel, Presidential Liaison, published the next year to critical acclaim. Other works by Anne Manning are Rustler's Bride, Ripples (finalist in 2001 for the EPPIE for Best Paranormal Romance), Bloodlines, and The Raven's Lady, which won the 2000 EPPIE for Best Paranormal Romance. Anne is a member of Romance Writers of America, San Antonio Romance Writers, and EPIC, the Electronically Published Internet Connection, which she has served in many capacities, including as President. “Romance has to be the best possible world for an optimist. There's always trouble, but there's always a happy ending. And hope for happiness is the greatest gift a writer can bring a reader,” Anne says.

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