Shee Willow

I was all too conscious of the fact that I was naked except for the towel wrapped around me A gasp got stuck in my throat, and I swayed as I almost collapsed to the floor in a heap! “Hello, Shee Willow.” I was trying to find my voice. Hell, I was trying to find my brain. I definitely heard a scream in my head—somehow it only came out as a peep. I guess instinct made me step backwards and put out my hand in place of the ‘no’ I couldn’t get out of my lungs. The thing was—I knew him. I recognized him the moment I saw his glorious self. This dreamy hunk of maleness was a royal Fae prince, and I had met him before. Smiling his ‘conquer by charm’ smile, he proceeded to look me over. Shit! This Fae was dangerous to any and all females, but particularly to me. Did I mention he had a killer smile? It started in his silver eyes and spread across his oh so masculine and handsome face. His dark blond hair was slicked back and its lengths were braided and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather string. He wore a pale blue silk Tshirt and faded low-cut tight jeans. Even in his flat sandals he stood well over six feet something, and at the moment he was standing provocatively close as he towered above me. He reached for my pointing, wagging finger and kissed the palm of my hand. “I chose to come here now because I wanted to see you while Bantry was away. We need to talk.” I asked him what he wanted to talk to me about. What could be so important? He answered by swooping me into his embrace and whispering softly, “I want to talk to you for many reasons. However, you are a tempting beauty, and I would like to get to know …” His kisses gently covered my neck and my ears with ease and expertise. I managed to pull away. I mean this was too much too soon even for my infatuated person. Just what was happening here and why—I wanted the real why of it explained. Trying to maintain composure while I held my towel tightly in place, I stepped back and away from him and told him roundly, “Hold on, fella.” I was all too conscious of the fact that I was naked except for the towel wrapped around me. I tried to object—too late. I was in his embrace, and oh my—oh my … his body felt like it was molded from stone. He had me slammed up so firmly against him that I felt that huge, hard male thing pressing into me as he bent me for his kiss. What am I doing? He is a Fae. I don’t mingle with Fae. Not even with this very special one. No, this was not what I wanted, but his kiss was oh so … Oookay. Maybe a kiss or two or three …? His lips parted mine. His tongue gently teased mine to receive a seductive introduction and then with a soft curse he was pulling away. I almost pulled him back for more but managed to stop myself. What, am I nuts? Where is Willow Lang? Quiet, unadventurous, keep your head low, Willow Lang?

Other books by Claudy Conn Legend Series Spellbound—Legend Shee Willow—Legend Trapped—Legend Free Falling—Legend ~ Vampire Series ShadowLove—Stalkers ShadowHeart—Slayer ~ Prince in the Mist (Novella) DarkLove (coming in February 2012)

Written as Claudette Williams After the Storm Blades of Passion Cassandra Cherry Ripe Cotillion for Mandy Courting Christina A Daring Deceit Desert Rose, English Moon Fire and Desire Heart of Fancy Lady Barbara Lady Bell Lady Madcap Lady Magic Lady Runaway Lady Sunshine Lady Velvet Lord Wildfire Masquerade Waltz Myriah Passion’s Pride A Rake’s Folly Regency Star Sassy Song of Silkie Spring Gambit Sunday’s Child The Convenient Romance Jewelene Lacey

Naughty Lady Ness Mary, Sweet Mary Lady Brandy Hotspur & Taffeta Sweet Disorder

Rave reviews for the Shadow series ShadowLove—Stalkers is hot, Hot, HOT Avid vampire and paranormal romance enthusiasts are in for a darkly delicious thrill when they sink their teeth into Claudy Conn’s newest series, ShadowLove—Stalkers. Conn has a gift for character and plot development that sets her work apart from other romance novelists. ShadowLove—Stalkers is filled with steaming action and dramatic tension … Claudy delicately plants the seeds for future development and characters without distracting from the excitement and romance of Stalkers. The result is that she has a paranormal, vampire series, of romance novels, which carries her own unique and spicy aroma. Claudy fills her stories with enough passion to make the pages spark, sizzle, and steam. She doesn’t skimp when it comes to building sexy into her characters. The women are luscious and the men … well, the action doesn’t stop with the plot. She really knows how to make us tingle with anticipation for her next book. ShadowLove—Stalkers is hot, Hot, HOT … and yes, I am blushing.

~ Vonnie Faroqui, Ink Slinger’s Whimsey Five Cups and a CTTR (Coffee Time Reviewer’s Recommend) Award ShadowLove—Stalkers is a story that immediately hooks the reader. It reminds me of a roller coaster just beginning, only to plunge into speed, drawing the reader into non-stop action. Intense and spellbinding, this paranormal romance kept this reader engrossed until the conclusion. I loved the passion and chemistry between the main characters. With tremendous action and well thought out characters, this fantastic read sizzles and sparks like a firecracker.

~ Coffee Time Romance & More Five Stars for ShadowHeart—Slayer This second in Conn’s Shadow series is filled with vampires, a vampire slayer, demons, wizards, a Fae prince and an unlikely romance. Claudy Conn does an excellent job of making this a standalone story while incorporating some of the characters from the first book and introducing us to several new characters. The war is still brewing and now the fae are becoming involved. Can’t wait for the next book in the series. This is another one I couldn’t put down and read in a single sitting. I got so caught up in the action I was sad to see it end. Fans of the paranormal romance, urban fantasy and vampire genres should enjoy this as well.

~ Wild About Bones

Acclaim for the Legend Series Spellbound—Legend: One hot and thrilling book I fell for all three of the main characters, fun loving Maxie, dark and brooding Julian, and one hot Fae, Breslyn. However, it wasn’t just the characters that kept me on the edge of my seat, it was the entire involved plot that included jealously, betrayal, magic, murder, and, of course, hot passion … Like all good thrillers, it seemed as one problem was solved another would spring up. The last few pages had me hoping that this is the first of a new series that will be worth each torturous wait for the next book. The well-written out mixture of myth and legend, not to mention the characters, all in today’s world has me Joyfully Recommending Spellbound—Legend as one book you won’t want to miss.

~ Jo, Joyfully Reviewed

Shee Willow—Legend: A great combination of paranormal, scorching romance, and suspense! Ms. Conn again brings readers a different side of lore and allure surrounding the Fae. Willow and Shayne’s storyline was magical, in the sense that you knew something greater, deeper was in store for them. Then add Breslyn, the Dagda Prince, childhood crush of Willow, into the mix … just get comfy, because you are in for a heck of a rollercoaster … Thankfully, another title will be released soon. I cannot wait until the simmering conflict between the Seelie Fae and Unseelie Fae reaches its boiling point!

~ Monica Solomon, The Romance Readers Connection Free Falling—Legend: I loved this story! There is so much chemistry between Z and Dante and Chancemont just oozes sex appeal. I am chomping at the bit to read the second and third books in this series.

~ Wild About Bones

Shee Willow Legend By

Claudy Conn

Shee Willow—Legend By Claudy Conn http://claudyconn.embarqspace.com Copyright © 2011 by Claudy Conn Edited by: Karen Babcock Cover Artist: Kendra Egert All rights reserved First edition published by Wings ePress April 2011 Second edition published 2011 Published in the United States of America November 2011 Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. Excerpt of Trapped—Legend Copyright © 2011 by Claudy Conn Originally published by Wings ePress August 2011 Excerpt of ShadowLove—Stalkers Copyright © 2011 by Claudy Conn

Dedication In this vast world, we all need to belong. Family gives us a connection to ourselves, and thus, I would like to dedicate this book to my brothers and sisters: Diane and Bobby Maureen and Richie Denise and Greg and of course Our latest edition—‘Stella’!

~ Prelude ~ THE WAR WITH the dark Unseelie Fae has already begun. Humans need to know how to protect themselves. Although we (the Seelie Fae) have stood between humans and the dark Fae, they are escaping in numbers too great to contain, and they are coming for you! The prison wall that kept the Dark Fae in their Dark Realm has been breached. We used a great deal of our skills—and magic—to keep that wall intact, but it has been dangerously thinning. They escaped in small numbers, but there is another threat—their new and sinister leader whom you may already have met. His name is Gaiscioch. The Unseelie creatures (one shrinks to call them Fae, for in most respects they are very different) have been, from the moment they were created, a venomous, bitter, and malevolent race of ill-formed life. They have always wanted human contact. They want it still, and that is not good. Gaiscioch was one of our own. He turned his back on his own kind. We dubbed him a renegade Seelie. He took refuge in the Dark Realm, and in return for their allegiance, he promised the monsters freedom. He promised them our Fae and human worlds. Gais freed some of the lower castes through various portals he was able to create before our great Seelie Queen Aaibhe managed to shut them down. Although Gaiscioch was trapped in the Dark Realm of the Unseelie, he has been hard at work. He found ways to open the gap in the wall, and he will try to make those slits wider. He will need large enough portals for his Unseelie army, and his goal is to bring that army through to your human world—soon. Gais has no love for the Unseelie, but he has an agenda all his own, and he needs the miserable, heinous things for his war. The Unseelie monsters have never been free to walk your Earth in such numbers. Until now … *** We Seelie Fae have always been fond of our Druids. Some humans thought they might be Fae descendents; perhaps in a way they are. Humans speak of them as a mysterious group and have written a great deal about the Druid community. They have always been, as they should be, a secretive and select entity, and there is nothing like the skills and abilities of a high Druid priest/priestess. A Druid priest was sorcerer, oracle, sage, and tribe leader in the Druid, tight-knit communities. He was the mediator between the physical world and the spirit realm. The Druid priests or priestess’ controlled the knowledge and the secrets of their small tribes. They did and do … Druid priests still have the power to cause storms, and they have many gifts and abilities, given to them by us—the Seelie Fae.

In return for their special gifts, they have for over a thousand years enacted the four rituals that help maintain the prison walls. Druid women, as well as female Fae, have always been regarded as equals to males and had the power to conduct these rituals as well. And now more than ever, the World—each of our worlds—needs our Druids. My Fae queen has recruited her loyal Druid high priests. She said they are the answer to this quickly overwhelming problem. She put her trackers out searching for a way to capture Gaiscioch. She managed and placed her Fae warriors in strategic positions. Even so, the escaped Unseelie are unthinking creatures of horror and are already feeding indiscriminately in the human world. They are even allowing themselves to be seen before they kill, just for the sheer pleasure of witnessing the terror in their victims’ faces. And their numbers—their numbers are becoming almost too great to contain. And so, Gaiscioch has set his stage, and the greatest battle the human world has ever seen has already started. Who am I? Princess Ete, royal cousin to the Seelie Fae queen.

~ Prologue ~ Heav’n but the Vision of fulfill’d Desire, And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire, Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam I HAVE ALREADY introduced myself. I am Ete, royal Fae princess and cousin to the Seelie queen, Aaibhe, and I should tell you at the outset, I have been suffering unrequited love for a Fae prince (whom some of you may already know). His name is Breslyn, Prince of the Royal House of Dagda of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. This is not an infatuation. No simple ‘taken’ here. Love is what it is, and who wouldn’t be in love with him? He is, even amongst the best of the Fae, a hunky, beautiful, honorable prince. However, he tells me that I am too young for him, and he has always thought he cannot commit to forever because we are an immortal race—forever, for us, is the real deal. If that wasn’t enough of a hurdle to get over, I also have had to compete with human women. He has always adored humans—especially human women. Although I haven’t wanted to, I must admit that for the most part humans are quite an endearing lot. I know that he prefers giving his affection to human women because that ‘forever’ is less than a century. I have heard him say to his friends that he can only deal with one hundred years or so with a woman constantly by his side. He has just come away from his last adventure with humans. He lost his ‘Lia’ to a Druid priest. He was best man at their wedding. However, he still cannot believe that a mere mortal bested him. It made me giggle—it still does. It was hard to believe, however, for he is a stunning royal Fae for a Druid priest to compete against. His height—well over six foot. Dark blonde, slicked-back hair frames his oh-so-handsome face. Warrior built, and I do so wish he would see me as more than a child. I am his younger sister’s best friend, and that seemed to disturb him as well. At any rate, the queen gave us a new mission. She said that we have to find a way to capture the traitor Gaiscioch and strengthen the thinning walls between the worlds of Fae and Man. Easier said than done, but it threw us together—just what I wanted. I know that he felt something for me when he saved me from Gais just a few months ago. I saw want in his eyes when he looked at me then … However, there is a new human woman in the mix—part of our mission. I am most distressed. Once more he will work closely with yet another beautiful woman, and this one … this Willow Lang is not what she seems …

~ One ~ MY NAME—WILLOW Lang. So much has happened that you need to know, so I will start at the beginning—but first, I’ll give you some stats. How I got to the ripe old age of twenty-three and still remained sane is beyond me. Maybe I’m not sane. I have been told that my pale blonde, very thick, very long hair catches the eye. Eyes? Mine are violet. Come on, you say, but yes, they are violet, like the flower. That is an accident of birth—I take no credit for it. I stand about five foot three in my stocking feet, and I have a really good figure. Now, please don’t think I am being immodest. I am not, because in spite of all that, I know, have always known, I am a freak! Let me explain. I should first give you a little history of the Tuatha Dé (the Fae). They came to Ireland before the beginning of history. They are immortal, which means they don’t get sick, they don’t age past their maturity (which generally looks about twenty-eight to thirty years old), and more often than not, they get sadly, dangerously bored. When they get so bored that they are ready to off themselves, they look for really good entertainment. Apparently to many of the Fae, humans provide that entertainment for them. So you should know right up front, I am not quite human. My father is Tuatha Dé. Yep—an alien, ancient race from the World Danu. No Tinker Bells, no flitting about, tiny winged things. The Seelie Fae are tall, bold, and many of them (male and female alike) have been warriors and are built along those lines. All of them are almost too beautiful to look at (especially the members of the Seelie four Royal Houses). Their eyes are iridescent (unless they have taken human Glamour). Glamour is something they use to disguise the alien in themselves, which can be seen in the iridescence of their eyes. My mom was human, but a very unusual kind. I guess my eyes are such a unique shade of violet because of the combination of my dad’s many-colored thing going on in his Fae eyes and the deep blue of my mom’s. At any rate, my dad enjoyed describing how totally, completely, and madly in love with my mom he was. I always knew my mom was even more totally and madly in love with him. They both doted on me. My mom died when I was ten years old. Okay, what does all that really mean, you ask? It meant that from the start I never belonged in either world—freak. I didn’t belong in Tir (the world of the Fae), and although here in Wilmington, North Carolina, was where I lived, where I grew up, I didn’t completely fit in with my peers here either. In spite of that, we were really a very happy family. It felt like we were always laughing. My dad spent a great deal of his time here with us, and although sometimes he

would have to go to Tir on Fae matters, he was content living with us in Wilmington. I was content hiding my Faeness and pretending to be all human. My dad was what anyone would call a serious hunk. His hair, blond, like mine. His height just over six-foot (like most Fae), and his build athletic. He was a musician on the Isle of Tir and even dabbled a bit down here until he got too much notoriety. (Fae need anonymity amongst humans.) My mom met him when she was eighteen. Dad doesn’t age, but when a Fae reaches maturity, he usually takes the Glamour of the form closest to what he looks like. He was about ten thousand years old, but he looked about twenty-eight to thirty when they met in Wilmington at a rock concert, fell in love, and were married shortly thereafter. My grandma didn’t like him, by the way—she still doesn’t. Ten years later, he looked the same, and my mom although still young and beautiful was twenty-eight. He didn’t want her to age. He didn’t want her to grow old without him. He didn’t want to go on living his immortal life without her. Simply put, Dad didn’t want Mom to die a human death. He had a solution. He petitioned the queen of Fae, Aaibhe, for a very special elixir. She granted him his wish. Dad was ecstatic. He began insisting Mom take the elixir of immortality to stop her aging. After months of his insistence, mom finally agreed, but before she had a chance to do so, she was jogging on her way home to us after her morning run in the park and she was hit by a drunk driver—a drunk driver in the morning—and killed! For weeks and weeks I felt alone. I had lost my mom whom I adored, and my father was so struck with grief that he was a basket case. Summer vacation was approaching when Dad suddenly took me by the hand and said we were going to Tir. It wasn’t the first time we had been there together. He had taken my mom and me there for a day or two at a time over the years. The problem with that was their time doesn’t work like ours. A day or two in the world of Fae could be almost two to three weeks on Earth. And there is no figuring it out. It is not an absolute. The time difference varies. Very inconvenient. Thus, Dad told Grandma we would be back soon and she gave him an unending argument, but off we went. He touched my shoulder, we shifted through space, and there we were on Tir. (Shifting is the Fae’s mode of locomotion. Think of it as parting the airwaves and then stepping through the tunnel it creates.) The Isle of Tir is multi-faceted. It has a mountain range. It has a beach to rival the Caribbean, it has gardens, and it has fields, piney forests, and lakes of all sizes. Tir is … absolutely breathtakingly, beautiful. Color rivals the rich hues of a Disney cartoon. Everything in Tir is wildly vibrant. Flowers, waterfalls, trees of every imagination, and birds of all kinds sing, spread their beautiful wings, and everywhere you look … you find beauty. My father is Fae, but he is not royalty. Even so, his wonderful estate was on the edge of a river, and there were animals of every kind roaming around. As a child, I was at first quite content. I was also getting quite an education. There are many things Fae are taught as they attain their maturity. My father tended to that from the moment I started to walk, but on Tir that summer he put me in a class with other Fae young just about my age. There are not many Fae young—their ability to reproduce has diminished over time.

Right, so there I was with other Fae young, some older, some younger than I was. Disaster! I felt like it was the end of my world. They looked at me like I was some kind of freak, and I was dubbed the ‘Faeling’. You know the story of ‘Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer’. None of the other reindeer would play with Rudolph, and none of the other Fae would play with me. Their words, their actions, and their obvious hatred of what I was made me cry nearly every single day of the first week that I was there. By the end of the month, my dad noticed that something was really wrong and discovered what was happening to me. He stormed around. He let loose on our teacher (who felt much as the children did about me), and then he took my hand and shifted us home to Wilmington. Our month on the Isle of Tir had cost me a year in the human world. I didn’t age in that year, but life had just gone on without me on Earth. And Grandma was fit to be tied. My grandmother was absolutely beside herself with relief to have me back. She knew my secret, and she and I shared another secret as well. I don’t know if you have ever heard of a Shee Fios/Shee Seer? It is a human (usually a woman) who can see past the Glamour a Fae uses as a disguise, and a Seer can see past the cloak of invisibility called the Féth Fiada. In addition to that ability, many Seers have the gift of precognition or what some call inspired sight. Okay, this is a lot to throw at you all at once, but you’ll settle in and get the hang of it as we go along. Grandma was determined to keep me out of Tir forever. Good—so was I. Dad asked Grandma to move in with us and be there for me, as he wanted to be able to spend some time in Tir. Without Mom, our world did not hold the lure it once held for him. Now, don’t be thinking he neglected me. He didn’t. However, a little depression had taken hold of me for a time. My mom was gone. My dad was on Tir, and my dad was Tuatha Dé, a member of another race. I didn’t fit in Tir—where they thought of me as a faeling—and if I wanted to fit in the human world I would always have to hide what I was. Couldn’t and didn’t confide in my closest friend. She would have thought I was nuts, and Fae don’t want their presence known amongst humans. That was built into me. At least I could pretend to be a one-hundred-percent-human child and survive, and like most, I survived my childhood. Dad was always around. He would pop in frequently, spend some time with me, and pop out. Grandma never liked him, and never will, but I adore my dad. When I was sixteen, Dad wanted me to go back to the Isle of Tir with him, just for my summer vacation. He said he would have me back in time for my senior year of high school. He wanted it so badly that I finally gave in and said okay. I dreaded it. When we first arrived at our home on Tir, I stuck close to the grounds. On my second day, Dad insisted I accompany him to the palace to listen to him jam with some other musical Fae. It was there, at the palace, on my second day in Tir, that I saw Valtye. I felt … slammed! My mind said, Holy shit! I looked at him and felt my world rock. Fireworks went off in my mind. I felt the earth tremble beneath my sandals, and I heard a bell toll. It said very clearly that I was meant for him. I was sixteen, after all.

If he were human he would have been about twenty years old. In Fae years he was about one thousand years old. He was tall and completely tantalizingly well built, and his hair was a copper-tinged gold. I had my first teen crush. I couldn’t believe it, but he noticed me at once and came right over to take my hand and put it to his sensuous lips as he introduced himself. When he said his name, it felt like the blood in my veins sizzled. My heart pounded out his name—Valtye. Oh, I fell fast … The next few days found us dancing together at a concert at the open-air music grounds near the palace, and then we went on a picnic. I had my first kiss during that picnic. Not my first Fae kiss, but my first kiss ever! It was wonderful. It was all any sixteen-year-old could hope her first kiss would be and of course ruined me for any other kisses thereafter. You know since then I have had other kisses—not an extraordinary number, but my fair share, and unfortunately not a one compared to that first kiss. Then, one afternoon I was supposed to meet Valtye in the park. Fae have many abilities. As I mentioned earlier, shifting is how Fae get to place to place quickly. It allows them to instantly travel wherever they wish. Just a bit more advanced than a Beam me up, Scotty. It is mostly science with a touch of magic for concealment. Because of my Faeness, I can shift, but I have always liked to walk. I don’t shift unless I have to—I always enjoyed exercise, and I have grown accustomed to behaving as human as possible. Fitting in has always been a paramount goal. However, I can do nearly all things Fae. The largest difference between a ‘faeling’ and a Fae is the fact that I am not immortal. This one afternoon, I had been with my dad all day and was running late. So I decided to shift to the Park. I arrived and thought Valtye wasn’t there yet, so I took a little walk and stopped when I heard his voice on the other side the of shrubbery as he conversed with his friend. “What, Aonghas—don’t be daft! You can’t think I really care for her? She is a faeling. I am merely amusing myself for a time.” “It looked like more than that, Valtye. I think you really like the half-breed.” “Well, I don’t. I don’t give a rat’s ass for her,” Valtye said with so much disgust that I felt my heart actually physically contract. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. I made myself listen. I wanted to remember this. I wanted to keep myself from ever being hurt again. “What then is it?” said Aonghas. “Well, have you looked at her? She is an exceptional beauty, but it is more than that. She has the passion of a human. That is what I am after. When I am done … then you can try her on for size.” That was all I needed to hear. I would remember it always, and every single time I do remember it, I cringe. I shifted to my dad’s house, left a note for my father, and shifted back to Wilmington. I have never been back to Tir since.

~ Two ~ THAT WAS THEN, but it helped form who I am. I keep myself really well insulated. I know what you are saying. I should have the smarts to know that was just one Fae and not all Fae are like that. I get it. But, you see … I don’t fit in with the Fae—they think I am not really one of them. Humans don’t know what I am, but as I have said, I don’t fit in with them either, but at least that is just in my head. You are saying, “Nonsense. Put it behind you. Time to grab a guy and fall in love. Make it a human male …” However, I have thought it all out. The problem is multi-sided. I am not entirely human. So what do I do? Match up with some trusting guy, and then he finds out I am part alien race? If I hid it from him and then we had a child … my child would have Fae in her—so what then? It is a problem that has haunted me for years. I kept my shield in place. I kept my blinders on. I can’t have a relationship with a man. My secret has kept me pinned to a world of isolation. There are no eligible men for me, and it has been a great and sad inconvenience. In other words, it sucks! There have been times when I really wanted to hook up with someone I met, and then bam I got hit with all the warnings in my head. Sex, you say? What about some hot sex at least? Right, I quite agree. My problem has been the fact that I can’t seem to separate sex and love (or the fantasy). I have tried, but as soon as I thought about that kind of intimacy, I found myself mooning about everlasting ‘foreverness’ and how perfect it would be if I could meet someone I could share all my secrets with. My secrets are extraordinary … So instead, I poured myself into getting an education. I majored in art and got my degree at UNC at Wilmington. (My grandma wasn’t ready to let me go too far, so I stayed close to home for her.) My Fae smarts have always helped me ace everything without really trying. Before I knew it, I was accepted to the New York Academy of Art. That was as close to heaven as I was ever going to get. This time Grandma insisted I go, so I did, but I was forever shifting home to visit her. Some Fae abilities have their merits! I love restoring ancient pieces of art. Canvas paintings are my specialty, although I have on two occasions worked on wall murals. Art restoration is my calling. I love the history behind each piece and the satisfaction I feel when my work is completed and a masterpiece looks thanks back at me. I was lucky enough last year to get a position at the New York City Museum of Fine Arts (I’ve always suspected my dad of having a magic hand in that). At any rate, I got the job and have been working for them almost at times around the clock. Perhaps Dad

flicked a finger and got me the job, but it has been my long hours and my skill as an artist that won me a promotion and a permanent position. Yesterday the superintendent, John Mallory, stopped by my workroom with a visitor. When he called my name, I turned and stepped aside from the aged Flemish painting that had been one of Peter Paul Rubens’ very finest pieces. I had been working on it for at least a week. I smiled a welcome at John, and then I was stopped dead in my tracks! Beside John was an eye-popping hunk of man. He radiated smoking-hot sex. He throbbed with an aura that was filled with vibrating electricity. I felt the room sizzle with his essence. Oh yeah, he had my attention. He was well over six feet and built athletically. His hair was a well-ordered mass of shiny black, layered silk. His face? Ooh my—his face was chiseled in ruggedly handsome lines. His lips were full with the promise of something I didn’t want to think about. He looked to be about thirty. What was he wearing, you ask? He was dressed in what I was sure was Armani. A navy sports jacket, a denim shirt, and oh-so-tight-fitting jeans. He wore navy leather boots with just a touch of silver ornamentation at the toe and heels. To say that his eyes were green would be an understatement. They were brilliant genuine emeralds with sparks of gold, and at the moment they were taking me in from head to toe. His eyes lingered at my breasts, and I felt myself go hot all over. Then he met my gaze, and I could see that the violet color of my eyes intrigued him for a quick moment. I was used to people doing a double take on my eyes. And then, he was all business all at once. As soon as I finished my visual evaluation of him I had the feeling that I should run away and not look back. I brushed the feeling aside and told myself I was an idiot. John Mallory must be about fifty, and he works at the museum for the love of it. He is ‘Old World money’ and doesn’t need to work at all. He was smiling broadly as he introduced me and seemed pleased as punch. “Willow … this is Squire Shayne Bantry …” He turned to the Squire. “I have the pleasure of introducing you to our little treasure, Miss Willow Lang.” A squire no less? I was impressed. His black lashes swept his cheeks as he inclined his head. He took my offered hand and didn’t shake it, but put it to his lips Old Wonderful World style. He spoke, which was a good thing because I was nearly sure that if I did I would gush. “I am honored to meet you, Miss Lang. You come highly recommended.” His Irish brogue went straight to my heart. God help me—I love anything, everything Irish. My mom was Irish. His accent made me want to capture him, make him sit and talk, just keep talking. However, his words were short and sweet and threw me off balance. “Recommended? Recommended for what?” I managed to find my voice. “I don’t understand, Squire.” His black eyebrow went up, and he was clearly not pleased. “Please forgive me. I thought that Mr. Mallory had already presented my proposition to you.” We both turned and looked at John. John blustered, and his hands moved wildly. “I was away for a few days on business. I only got back last night and there was your letter …” He was looking at the squire and then turned to look at me. “ … and now here he is.” He looked back at the squire.

“Haven’t had the chance to approach Miss Lang, but no harm. Why don’t we go to my office and discuss everything.” The squire’s face was stern. “I am sure you are a busy man, Mr. Mallory. If you don’t mind, I would like to take Miss Lang for a cup of coffee and discuss my plan with her.” “Absolutely.” John waved us off. “Of course …” He turned to me and said amicably, “Willow, we are cooperating fully with the squire, so the Museum has no objection.” My mind bounced around. What? Who? Where? I didn’t have a clue. Green eyes scanned my face as he took up my arm to lead me away. I stopped him and said, “Please … what is this all about?” Shayne Bantry smiled softly at me. “I have a place near Lake Killarney in Ireland. It has been in my family for centuries. Some of the paintings date back to the Middle Ages and are in need of restoration. I was told that you are the one for the job. You have an outstanding reputation as a talented restorer. I also understand that you have a great love for what you do. I know the importance of loving one’s work … it makes the difference between mediocre and greatness. Therefore, I came here expressly to judge for myself. One glance at your work tells me that you are the one for the job.” He didn’t wait for me to reply but moved forward and stood in front of the painting I had been working on. “Ah … Rubens,” he said. He didn’t ask, he knew, and that impressed me. I watched as he peered closer still and said softly, “Miss Lang … there is no doubt you are a master at your craft.” I was scarcely listening. What stuck with me was what I blurted out. “You want me to go to Ireland?” I was astonished and let me admit more than a little bit excited. The only time I had been to Ireland was when I was a child. My memories were vague, but the pull Ireland has always had on me was strong. I wondered why I had never returned there. I know Dad shifted to Ireland all the time. Ireland for most Fae was their favorite place on Earth. “I do,” he said succinctly. “To work restoring classical paintings in your home?” “Quite a few classical paintings.” “At your place …?” “Indeed, at Bantry Manor.” He seemed slightly amused by my reaction. “Bantry Manor—in Ireland … me …? Like … an old manor … with history?” He smiled with genuine feeling for the first time. “Like with history to the 1400s, although it has been restored and modernized several times over the last century.” “And you couldn’t find anyone in your own country to restore your classical paintings?” “I am very particular. A perfectionist when it comes to art, and now that I have seen your work, Miss Lang, I must tell you that you are the only one I want for the job.” “But … my job here …?” “I have been assured that it will be here waiting for you when you are done at Bantry, but I fear you will not be done for—many … many months.” He looked about himself. “Shall we go for coffee now, Miss Lang?” Oh no. Sitting down to coffee with this mysterious man was not what I wanted to do just then. I couldn’t stop the next question. “Bantry Manor, you say … and I will be working there … alone … with you?” His smile grew, and he inclined his head. “Not quite alone. There are servants and …

visitors. I, in fact, won’t be there all the time as I have a business that takes my time and attention on a regular basis.” I extended my hand. I wanted him to go. I needed down time to myself. I had to think. It is what, in fact, I told him. Again, he didn’t shake my hand. He put it to his lips and murmured in that Irish brogue that sent shivers up my spine, “I look forward to hearing from you soon, Miss Lang.” I left the museum early and decided to walk home. I noted absently that I hadn’t seen very many Fae lately. In New York City, that was an oddity. The Fae love the hustle and bustle of city life. They put on their human Glamour and shop and club and frequent our most expensive and popular establishments. Being Fae, I can see through their human Glamour. However, I know how to hide my Faeness from them. I am human and purposely emote human whenever I see a Fae within my circle. I arrived at my apartment, put a ‘Lean Cuisine’ in the micro, and tossed a salad for dinner. All the while I was thinking about this new development in my life. I had mixed feelings. I was safe in my job, in my present life. Not having an awesome time of it, but safe and happy enough. This mysterious squire offered me something I felt in my gut was dangerous. Dangerous—why? I was being an idiot. I wondered idly how much of a donation the handsome Squire Bantry had made to the museum to get them to agree to such a deal. You have to understand that boys with green (as a rule) do not impress me. What I wanted was a knight in shining armor, which meant he had to be big and strong, but also he had to have character, he had to be tolerant, he had to love puppies, and he couldn’t care that I wasn’t all human. Not a big chance of that; however, money wasn’t on that list. Of course knights like that just don’t come along. Do they? That voice in my heart sang, Yes, they do, and that bitch in my brain wagged an ugly, bony finger and said, You know better! You know of course that by the time I went to bed I had made up my mind; knights might not exist, but this opportunity was real, and was I going to pass it up? Oh no. My heart warned me off—it remembered how it had fluttered when Shayne Bantry had kissed my hand—but my head said this would be the experience of a lifetime. And besides, he had said he wouldn’t even be around much. It was all perfectly safe and respectable. Wasn’t it? The next morning, I did, I called him at the Plaza, and he received my acceptance as though he had never expected any other response. He told me he would be returning to Ireland immediately, but that he would have his jet return for me in three days. His jet? Shit! Three days? As in private jet? This was not good. I would be ruined for the modest life I was presently content to live. Three days? “Three days?” I had to stop myself from screaming. “Will ye not be able to do that, Miss Lang?” he asked, and his Irish accent, which had dipped into what sounded like another century suddenly, spun right through me. I pictured his black eyebrows drawing together in a frown over those dark-lashed green eyes. Stop it, Willow Lang! I started chiding myself. I was not, absolutely not going to think about this man.

“Well, I have to make arrangements for my apartment …” I tried logic. “I will take care of that. Just leave it to me.” He was all modern high-finance man once more. Still Irish brogue, but that Old World quality I had heard so briefly a moment ago was very nearly gone—not quite, but nearly. “You—how will you …?” “Please believe me, Miss Lang. I am a businessman—I have attorneys. It will all be handled. All you have to do is cover your furniture with sheets, pack your bags, and go to Kennedy to meet the plane I shall have waiting for you there.” July was heading out, and August was coming in. I asked about the weather in Ireland. He answered in a slightly bored tone, “Pack everything you want. Pack anything you want. If you find that there is something that you have forgotten, or wish to have, it will be procured for you.” I was flabbergasted. I mean, really! I was good at my work—I had heard some remark that I was even considered great at my work. After all, I was a Fae. Art was a part of who I really am. Even so, just what sort of fine, classical paintings did he have that needed me so badly that he was willing to go to so much trouble? I started imagining the paintings I was about to see, and a thrill shot through me. “Fine,” I said. “Just tell me, where I should go to catch this private jet of yours?” “All you need do is sit back and allow the car I will send for you to take you to where you need to go.” And then he was gone. I was still holding the phone like an idiot, wondering if I had made the right decision, long after he hung up.

~ Three ~ KERRY AIRPORT IN Ireland is a small airport, and I had no trouble finding the limousine driver who was there to greet me. His name was Daniel, and he was a large man with a head of auburn curls. I judged him to be about fifty. He was kind and fatherly, and I felt comfortable with him at once. We had stuffed all my art supplies and the three bags of luggage I was sure would never do for more than a month into the oversized trunk when I saw it. I say it, because that’s the only way to describe what I was looking at: Introduction to Unseelie 101—in the flesh or whatever it was made of; I hadn’t a clue! I knew at once that it was a dark Fae. I have heard stories about them since I was a child. They are like the human boogeyman. No one really knows exactly what a boogeyman is, but we (as children) worried in various degrees if it was coming. Fae young worry just a bit less about the dark Fae, but worry just the same. Looking at this thing now, it sure seemed like every nightmare come true! I knew that from time to time, one or two would escape to the human world, but this was beyond anything I had ever heard about. I stared—how could I not? Right before me was an Unseelie Fae—a monster. The thing was not only in human Glamour—and let me tell you, it still looked (to me) less than human—but it was wearing the uniform of a baggage handler? I watched it as it drove a cart full of luggage. It worked at Kerry Airport—as though it were an ordinary human. Why? I saw through the human Glamour that its head was shaped like a cockroach. Its body was made up of many brown parts all connected on their way down to what you might loosely call feet. Its tongue kept lapping and drooling. You know when you see a real ugly insect and you are repulsed? Here it was, and it was huge and hideous. I looked away quickly and dove into my human aura. What was it doing here? More importantly, what was I supposed to do about it? I should tell my dad; he would know what to do. However, that was the thing. I had been trying to contact him for two days, and nothing. We have a system between us that always worked and never failed, and yet, somehow it had—failed, that is. It had me mildly worried. I am just little ol’ me. No warrior here—Fae, yes, but still human and mortal. What was I supposed to do about this thing? Follow it—instructions from a part of my brain I immediately told to drop dead. This was an Unseelie. You can’t let it feed on people. Follow it, my brain answered me loud and clear. Yeah right, follow it, then what? See what it’s doing. I was in a losing battle with myself. But, the thing is, I am mortal, I reasonably explained to me. Unseelies are immortal. He could do me permanent harm. What could I do to it? This was so not good.

What to do? I was losing sight of it. I looked towards Daniel and said, flashing him a smile, “I’m sorry, Daniel … I just have to make a quick visit …” I pointed towards the lobby of the airport. “Of course ye do, miss … don’t worry about it and take yer time …” I made haste and when I saw Daniel look away, slipped off to the side, and went into the large hanger building where the Unseelie had gone with the luggage cart. What did it want with people’s luggage? Then I saw where it had left the cart abandoned with all its suitcases piled high. Where had it gone? It was no longer in human Glamour. It had turned on the Féth Fiada (cloak of invisibility) that only Fae can see past. Fae can use illusion on humans and others, but not on one another. What the heck was it doing? It slithered towards the back of the building, and then I saw where it was headed. What looked like a big black mass was forming in a corner of the hanger. It looked like a huge, dark hole in a circular shape, like a toothless mouth that had opened up wide. It was maybe ten or twelve feet in diameter. It radiated, pulsated, contracted, and then swelled to twice its original size. It was pulsating with energy, and as the Unseelie chanted a spell, I saw something with tentacles just within its recesses. Shit! I am sorry, but there is no other word that adequately describes what I felt at that moment. The Drone Unseelie continued chanting vigorously and waving its limbs about with frantic effort, but something was wrong. The portal couldn’t quite open … And then it dawned on me. This was a portal to the Dark Realm! Oh this was bad— really bad. The ugly was trying to open the portal to let more uglies get through. I didn’t know what to do? Or did I? Something had clicked into place in my Fae brain. Something Fae moved into overdrive. I looked about myself, not really knowing what I was looking for until I saw them piled against the wall near a huge overhead door. I must have noticed them without realizing it when I first tiptoed into the building. Iron! Seelie Fae do not like iron. Some Fae are mildly pained by the metal; however, Unseelie (or so I was told as a child) are unable to tolerate iron at all. There was a concrete truck just outside the building, and workers were laying a new concrete apron for the overhang door. The iron rods were used in their construction. Well, I needed some of those. The thing I had to ask and answer was, could I close off the portal without drawing attention to myself? I would have to, wouldn’t I—getting back to that all-important fly in the ointment: I am mortal! I called one more time for my dad in my head. Nothing. “Come on, Papa … where are you?” I said under my breath as I braced myself. I had to concentrate now. I had to tell myself that I was Fae and that all Magic was mine. I pressed behind a huge stack of luggage as I closed my eyes and let my Fae brain take over … I don’t know where the words came from, but all at once they floated off my lips. “Ar dhuine … e beartoidh mé … ar dhuine … e beartoidh mé …” (Roughly speaking, that was Danu for ‘close from all—wield away’). As I said the words I sent the iron bars flying to the opening of the black hole until they crisscrossed within the mouth of the portal. Any Unseelie trying to get through on either side would have been sent reeling

backwards from the potency of the iron bars and the invisible wall I had just erected at the portal’s mouth. All young Seelie Fae are taught that Unseelies are allergic to iron. It can even be fatal to some of the lower castes. The magic of a Seelie Fae is much greater than that of an Unseelie Drone. The portal would not respond to him now. This had bought me time, but I was fairly certain a higher caste had helped create this portal, and that higher caste would no doubt return to reclaim it. The portal was no longer charged with energy. It had been bleeping and burping as it incorporated the iron in its mouth. However, the Unseelie thing turned round and saw me at once. Oh no … now I was so out of luck! I hadn’t been able to hide my Faeness while I worked my spell so close to the portal. It saw me and knew I was Fae, and I saw it shake what it used as fists! It was cursing in Old Danu and then for effect in English. He drooled as he stared at me and made ready to shift. Something was keeping him at bay. Ah, I realized his rage had taken over. Lower Unseelie castes must concentrate totally in order to shift. He would soon break free and be able to shift. Okay, no time for thinking. The time was for shifting! A moment later I appeared behind Daniel, who was leaning against the limo with his arms folded against his chest. I hid my Faeness behind my human aura once again and hurriedly greeted him as I jumped into the back of the limo before he had a chance to open the door for me. “All set,” I said. I could tell he was surprised; no doubt he couldn’t imagine how I got there without his noticing. Once again I tried to call on my dad so he could fix this situation permanently. Did they know in Tir just what was going on here? *** “Ete—my little beauty … you are often braver than you are wise.” Breslyn reached down and touched my chin. When he touched me, I shivered with pleasure. I was certain he felt it. I am a Lianhan Shee, which means I can exude a magical sexual prowess few male Fae can resist and that would, in fact, if misused cause a human male to die of desire. I never call on my sexual magic—well, maybe just a little when Breslyn, Prince of Dagda, is near … However, suddenly he frowned and went rigid. “I must go, Ete … I will see you later.” In the blink of an eye he was gone. I am a wonderful tracker. I belong to the queen’s bloodline and am gifted with many abilities other Fae do not possess. I followed him. He might need me … He arrived at his destination, and I shifted to an alternate dimension where I could observe undetected. Everything about where he was felt … wrong … Breslyn saw him at once. He was an abomination, and yet he carried Fae DNA. He was an Unseelie Drone. He was trying to open a ‘hidden portal’ in a part of the airport’s old hangar where they kept building materials. No doubt, my amazing prince must have felt something off. He was always finely tuned. We Fae once used portals to travel between worlds, but we have since perfected shifting as our preferred form of locomotion. The mouth of the portal suddenly bulged and gasped as the ugly thing attempted to

open it wide once more, but with a fizz and a pop, it shut down and pulled a shade down over itself. Someone was chanting at his back. I saw her at once—a young female human. No … not quite human … ah, I know who she is … my prince hadn’t seen her yet. I could see the Unseelie was disgusted with this portal. I saw his simple basic thoughts. He wanted to feed … The portal fizzled and died. It had happened all so suddenly, after all the dark Unseelie’s efforts. I smirked to myself. Magic with a force he had not yet experienced in this human world filled the air! Magic sent iron bars flying across the room. Even as they passed with frantic speed, he felt twinges of pain throughout his body and doubled over himself. Magic … surrounded him. He heard the words. He felt the might. And then the mouth was full with iron and its doors were closed against the other Unseelies trying to come through. And then he saw her. He knew at once she was a Seelie Fae. He was helpless against this enormous Seelie power in the hanger. There was nothing he could do now to open the portal. He did not have the power required to open this gateway to the Dark Realm with both iron and Seelie magic working against him. And it was getting less and less clear to him why he should. Here he was, with the terminal building so near and so full of fresh young people milling about. Fresh meat. Fresh souls. Ready for plucking …? It licked its drooling mouth and made a decision. There was a human within easy reach. Breslyn smiled to himself, and I watched him spring into action. “Tch, tch, tch … I wouldn’t do that …” It was his deep, musical voice, and I was so proud as I listened and watched. I heard the distinct threat that tickled the sound of his words. The monster turned to find a tall, dark blonde warrior Fae grinning at him. I saw that he knew at once he faced a royal prince—and that was the last thought the beast experienced, as Breslyn, Prince of Dagda, drove home his Danu weapon. My prince sighed to say, and again the softness of his tone belied the fierceness of his purpose, “There is a price to pay for going where you don’t belong and doing what is forbidden.” With a flick of his wrist, he relegated the oozing green, bloodied body to another dimension. (Thankfully it wasn’t the one I occupied at the moment.) I watched my Breslyn take a quick look around before he smiled and shifted off … *** After Daniel’s initial open surprise at my sudden appearance, he settled in for the drive to Bantry Manor. I closed my eyes and asked myself, What the hell just happened, and who was that girl throwing iron and magic spells around? It couldn’t have been me. I am meek Willow Lang. I don’t follow monsters and get in their way. I don’t get in anybody’s way. I keep my head low and make it through life … I am not ‘hero’ material. I don’t go rushing around trying to save the world. That was never who I was, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to be that person—at least I never did. Apparently, however, I had momentarily tripped into the body of that person, and I had to admit it had been exhilarating. It was the most excitement I had ever experienced in all my twenty-three years!

I didn’t have a clue about what was going on, but I knew that something awful could have taken place. I smiled to myself. This little faeling had done something epic. Hadn’t I? At least temporarily. What I needed was my dad. He had to tell the queen. They had to contain the situation. Here I was in Ireland, and after only a few moments, I was becoming more Fae than I knew I could be. I had to wonder if my Faeness would start to overrule my humanness. I’d have to watch myself. And, although I had reasoned that here in Ireland I would see a great deal more Fae trooping about, I had never imagined that I would actually see any Unseelies and be instrumental in thwarting an attack. Thwarting. That was quite a word to say, and I felt my tongue was getting all tied up around it, but wasn’t it what I did? I thwarted the beast! And that made me smile as I leaned back against the plush cushions of the limo. With a sigh I decided to put the incident inside a backdoor file in my mind. This was way too much for me to handle. Again I wondered where my father was. Was he out of range? Was there such a thing? I supposed if he were cruising another dimension …? But why would he be doing that? He had always heard my call in the past. I can’t remember ever abusing the power, and I can’t remember a time when he did not respond. I was jet lagged, and I was wished I could just shift over to the manor and plop in bed. Fae don’t need sleep, but humans do, and the human in me wanted to forget everything and dip into sleep. And then I noticed the countryside. Okay—wow! No wonder the Tuatha Dé love Ireland so very much. Some memories from childhood filtered into my mind’s eye, and I heard my parents laughing near a lake at our home in Tir while I threw food to the ducks. I pushed the memory away. There was my life before losing Mom, and then there was life after Mom was gone. I bet you can guess which was better. Ireland spread out before my eyes and said, Am I not wondrous? Am I not green and lovely? Am I not filled with mystery, history and magic? The answer was a whopping big, Yes. Shades of green rolled with the road. Charming homes of every style and size dotted the landscape. Wildflowers swayed in the breeze, and I saw enchanting farmhouses that looked as though they had just come to life from one of my favorite paintings and, oh yes, horses! I love horses with every inch of my Faeness and my humanness—I love horses. Dad had put me on a pony as soon as I was able to run and jump. I had squealed with delight, put my arms around my pony’s neck, and known that we were soul-bound beings. My dad had known of course that it would keep me grounded. Horses were in my blood. My old horse Butch was out to pasture, and I haven’t had the time to ride in the last couple of months, but it was my sport of choice. Irish horses are an eyeful of muscle and composition. I couldn’t look away from them, and they were everywhere. So were the sheep—everywhere, in the road, off the road, all around the limo. It was a giggle. The time that it took to get to the Bantry Manor felt like the snap of the fingers. When we arrived at the gatehouse at Bantry, my jaw dropped. The gatehouse was built

along Tudor lines of silver gray stone and mortar with dark oak trim. Its windows were huge and lead-paned. Ivy covered a good part of the structure, and it was so charming, like something you might find in a whimsical painting. The gatehouse was my speed—somewhere I could be cozy and happy … ah, with a fireplace and in some wonderful man’s arms … An older gentleman showed himself and broke my reverie. He gave Daniel a friendly greeting and tipped his hat my way before Danny boy drove on. I didn’t immediately see the manor as the sandy-colored gravel driveway was long and winding and, again, my attention went to the grassy, tree-dotted pastures where Irish beauties grazed contentedly. A sandy lane forked off and shot off to the west, and Daniel explained that it led to the Bantry guesthouse. Since we drove past it, I assumed I was being put up in the main house. For the moment, I had forgotten my errant dad and my bout with the Unseelie ugh, creature. The horses were playing and catching my imagination, and I wondered if and hoped that Shayne Bantry would let me ride one of those prime animals. And then the manor house blossomed into view! Manor? It was more like a castle. It rose four stories towards the sky, and at each of its corners pinnacled turrets enchanted the eye. Balustrades spanned the distance between the turrets. The building was built of the same silver-gray stone and mortar of the gatehouse, and once more ivy made a charming ornamentation to the architecture. The windows were huge, and like at the gatehouse, they were lead-paned. Some windows on the second and third floor captured my stare, as they were actually classic French doors with stone balconies. An array of summer potted flowers absolutely caught and held the eye. All at once I realized my breath was caught in my throat, and I released it with a long whew! Daniel and I were already on friendly terms, as he had been kind enough to point out various things of interest along the trip to Bantry. He brought the limousine to a stop right in front of the impressive front portico. Everywhere there were trees and neatly trimmed shrubbery and flowering vines, and I think my mouth was open. He grinned appreciatively as he opened the door for me. Along with my thanks, I tried to slip him the gratuity I had prepared, but he vehemently declined and pushed it away, saying that the squire made sure no one at Bantry ever wanted for a thing. He tipped his hat and told me I was a darlin’ and to go on up to the front door. A heavyset woman in a sweater and skirt with a pretty blue apron flung the door open wide at that moment. “Well then … here ye are!” She clapped her hands together and ushered me in. “Come in then, come in—I am Bridget Finn … Bridg if ye like.” She then extended her hand, touched my shoulder, and let her fingers slide to my arm, upon which she pulled me along. She started chattering away about everything all at once and totally set me at ease. I quickly scanned the huge open hall we were standing in. I knew from one of my art courses in architecture that it was known as the ‘Great Hall’ where lords of the manor often held court and other functions. There was a large, dark wood, Gothic-styled long table in the middle of the floor that sported an enormous arrangement of fresh flowers. The ceiling was open timber from which two huge stained glass chandeliers hung. The dark oak-paneled walls were covered with paintings of hunting scenes and, from what I saw and imagined, family portraits. I noticed the faded

areas on the wall where paintings had been removed. Daniel plopped the last of my things on the hardwood floor and stood, hat in hand, ready to be told what next to do. Bess was happy to do just that. “Well, close the doors, Daniel … and ye may be taking Miss Lang’s luggage upstairs to the Rose Suite.” She patted my hand. “I know ye must be jet lagged, but I thought ye might like a warm cup of tea before ye go up?” The squire’s private jet had a steward who offered me anything and everything in the way of refreshments, but oddly enough (normally when I am nervous I eat anything and everything) I hadn’t had much more than a glass of wine, cheese, and fruit. Tea sounded perfect. “Oh Bridget, that would be fantastic.” She laughed. “I love Americans. You are such a lively, happy lot! Come on, then.” She led me down a hall that fed off the Great Hall, past what I assumed was the sitting room, past the dining area, and through an open archway to the kitchen. Kitchen? It looked bigger than my entire apartment. Its width, which was considerable, opened up onto a covered terrace filled with ornamental potted flowers and greens. There was a tremendous island in its center. Six bar-styled chairs with brightly cushioned seats surrounded the island. Making it feel homey was a bowl of fresh fruit on the darkly marbled granite counter. The cabinets were thoroughly modern, as were all the appliances. The floor was antique oak planking. The ceiling was open and timbered. Copper pots hung decoratively over the island. I pulled up a chair there and remarked, “Wow! I don’t know what I expected … but this is so … up to date …” Bridget laughed and told me the kitchen had been recently renovated as she set a plate of pastry in front of me. I am ashamed to say that I dove right in before the tea arrived, and she laughed with pleasure. “Good girl. Here then … I made some wee lovely sandwiches … just in case.” She sat with me and poured the tea, which was rich and wonderful. “There now, enjoy your tea, and then I’ll be showing you to your room.” She moved in closer and lowered her voice, “You know, I’ve been thinking I should tell ye we have never had a woman stay in the main house before …” I felt my brows shoot up and my nerves jingle. I wasn’t sure this was something good. “Oh?” “Aye then … never.” Her expression and her nod seemed to indicate that whoever she had been discussing this with agreed that this deviation from the squire’s usual behavior was surprising. “I see,” was all I could manage to respond. The thing was, I didn’t see … not at all. I sipped my tea and answered all her questions about my work, my parents, my lack of a love life, to which she slapped the table with disbelief and shook her head. “Now that is impossible to believe. Why … look at ye, child!” “Thank you, but there you are. My work has always come first …” Sort of true. “Aye then, it is more than that. Ye jest haven’t met the one … the right one.” Her eyes met and held mine as though to convey more meaning than her words. I couldn’t help but giggle. I am a giggler. When I am nervous, when I haven’t anything to say, and when I am confounded … I giggle. She was serious though, so I touched her hand. “The right one? Don’t know if he exists anywhere but in my dreams.” “Well, child, dreams won’t keep you cuddly warm at night,” Bridget scoffed.

“Ain’t that the truth?” A short laugh escaped me as I stood up and started to pick up my plate. She grabbed it from me with a, “Whist … whot are ye doing then?” and put it back down. With a wave of her hand she said, “Never mind, just leave it.” Bridget then took my arm in a motherly fashion, and I could see that she had absolutely adopted me. “I can see ye be needing some rest now. Tomorrow I’ll show ye the workroom the squire has set aside for you.” “Wonderful,” I breathed as she led me upstairs. Bridget opened the oversized door to my room—correction, my suite—and I know my mouth dropped open because I could feel my tongue hanging out. Besides the fact that it was huge, it had a fireplace and a sitting room. The antiques, the paintings, the bathroom—oh my gosh, the bathroom was a woman’s dream come true. It had everything. The rooms were an unusual shade of soft mint green trimmed with ornate creamcolored moldings. The upholstery and bedspread were colored in soft muted maroons and shades of greens. There was a covered stone balcony with garden furniture and potted plants and flowers designed to draw you there and make you believe you had just entered a wonderful, enchanted garden. The view from the balcony was of lawns and garden beds of ornamental bushes and trees and made me feel like I was almost—not quite, but almost— in Faery. May all that I hold dear forbid! In the distance, I could see a large pond, almost the size of a small lake, and in it at the moment were two big German shepherd dogs playing and splashing about. I was truly in heaven. Bridget sighed to see me so thrilled with my accommodations and said lightly, “The squire asked me to give you his regrets. He meant to be here to greet you on your first day at Bantry, but something came up and he won’t return for a few days. I’ve made you a nice dinner, love, and all ye have to do is warm it whenever ye are ready. I’ll be leaving shortly, but don’t fret it—I am nearby. I live with my husband Tom … at the gatehouse, and if ye need me, the number is right next to the phone.” I reassured her that I would be fine and actually was glad to know that I could flit about and explore the place all on my own. She left me to myself, and I dropped my clothes to the floral rug that covered a good deal of the plank flooring and went directly into the shower. I had to force myself to shut off the water and get out. I looked out the window and saw that evening had already set in. There were solar lights scattered along trails in the garden inviting, no, actually shouting for me to come explore. I dried myself with a towel (from the heated towel rack) and wrapped it around myself. I hadn’t washed my hair so I gave it a quick brushing and opened the door to the bedroom. A gasp got stuck in my throat, and I swayed as I almost collapsed to the floor in a heap! “Hello, Shee Willow.” I was trying to find my voice. Hell, I was trying to find my brain. I definitely heard a scream in my head—somehow it only came out as a peep. I guess instinct made me step

backwards and put out my hand in place of the ‘no’ I couldn’t get out of my lungs. The thing was—I knew him. I recognized him the moment I saw his glorious self. This dreamy hunk of maleness was a royal Fae prince, and I had met him before. I managed to breathe again and in a hushed tone—a voice I didn’t recognize as my own—asked, “What … what are you doing here … in my bedroom … uninvited … and unannounced?” Dead giveaway that I knew him, right? I mean, I didn’t say, ‘Who are you—what are you doing here?’ However, he didn’t seem to notice. Smiling his ‘conquer by charm’ smile, he proceeded to look me over. Shit! This Fae was dangerous to any and all females, but particularly to me. Did I mention he had a killer smile? It started in his silver eyes and spread across his oh so masculine and handsome face. His dark blond hair was slicked back and its lengths were braided and tied at the nape of his neck with a leather string. He wore a pale blue silk Tshirt and faded low-cut tight jeans. He wore his gold torque proudly around his neck, and rune-engraved gold armbands displayed his muscular biceps to advantage (one of his biceps sported an interesting band of tattoos). Even in his flat sandals he stood well over six feet something, and at the moment he was standing provocatively close as he towered above me. He reached for my pointing, wagging finger and kissed the palm of my hand. “I chose to come here now because I wanted to see you while Bantry was away. We need to talk.” “Talk? We, need—together? Okay.” I should have been out of my gourd. However, I wasn’t. Instead, I was excited, thrilled, unsure what was going on and very willing to talk with this particular Fae. My pumping heart said. Here is Breslyn, Prince of Dagda … right from my dreams … here … wanting to talk to me. Idiot girl, my head shouted back. This is not okay. He is a Fae. You don’t want to get caught up with any untrustworthy Fae. Yes, my heart whispered, but you know … this one is different. While my warring brain and heart were going at it, my eyes were devouring this selfassured, magnificent specimen of Fae at its fineness. Unaware of my inner battles, he took a few steps around the room, glanced out my glass balcony doors, and came back to stand in front of me to say, “Indeed, first allow me to introduce myself.” I already knew who he was. In fact, not only did I know him, he was the subject of my youthful dreams (asleep and awake). You see, I first saw Breslyn, Royal Prince of Dagda, when I was ten years old! It was obvious to me that he hadn’t connected me to the little girl he had swung up into the air and totally captivated with his winsome nature. He had lit up my little girl eyes, my head, and my heart that day, and I secretly had always held him apart from the other Fae males. He would never think of me as a faeling. The little girl in me still had a great deal of affection for the prince. He was probably the only Fae other than my father and the queen that I trusted not to put me in a category that made me an outsider. Right. By now you are asking why, what and how? I’ll give you the quick version. My dad wanted my mother and me to meet the queen because he had petitioned her for the elixir of immortality. This potion was rarely given to humans. It was not to be taken lightly, as I have since learned it could have consequences. At any rate, only the queen

maintains and disperses this substance. My mom had been unsure about the whole deal, but she had said she would consider taking it. So, off we went to the palace where Queen Aaibhe granted us an audience. I remember standing there watching the stunningly lovely queen touch my mother’s cheek and say softly to my father, “She is mine to claim.” My mom was a Shee Fios (she could see past Fae Magic). She was a seer, and the Seelie Fae long ago had given themselves the right to keep the Shee Fios in Faery. (There was a time when the Fios were blinded, or killed, but that is another story.) That had worried me, and it must have showed on my face, because the most handsome prince I had ever lain eyes on touched my hair and then my chin. He picked me up and swung me before he put me down to whisper, “Don’t worry, child. It sounds worse than it is.” The prince had been standing at the queen’s side and quickly interceded, saying, “Desmond Lang fought at my side on many occasions over the centuries, my Queen. He is a dear comrade and friend, and I vouch for his loyalty to you.” “And his wife—she is Fios. What say you about her loyalty?” “I have been a friend to both, and I have witnessed her faithfulness in keeping the secrets of the Fae,” he answered carefully. The queen eyed the prince indulgently, and then those magnificent eyes of hers came to rest on me. I drew myself up to full attention. I was a child, but I discovered a sudden desire to pledge my loyalty to her. I wanted to please her. I wanted my dad to get what he wanted, but in that moment, looking at her, I felt more a Fae than anything else. I wanted this magnificent queen to like us, and I wanted her to know that I would always think of her as my queen. (Little did I know that she would remember that moment!) She spoke softly to me. “Well then, little one, you are too young to receive this boon, but do you think you will want it when you are older?” “I don’t know, my Queen.” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m not old enough to know … but, older people don’t always know what they want either.” The queen’s laugh was musical and delighted me. “Take a guess,” she urged me gently. “What do you think you might want?” I thought about this and decided. “I know I would like to please you. You are so beautiful … and maybe it would be nice to live forever …” I was a child, and she was a glittering personage of magical power. She was about to make my mom live forever. I was more than infatuated with everything Fae at that moment. I glanced towards the prince, and he winked at me. That was it—I was his. It was all something out of a storybook. Well, ‘Duh’—we were in Faery! And it had been a time long before my teen incident with Valtye. “Sweet Fae child,” she whispered and then turned to my dad. “The elixir is yours.” The royal prince of Dagda bent to me then and spoke softly. “Remember now, do not make a decision about this elixir until you know you are wise enough to deal with the many consequences.” He thought about this for a moment and then added, “In fact, come to me when you are ready, and we will explore the question together.” I looked at him and absolutely felt the heat in my cheeks. “Okay,” was all I was able to say. He kissed my nose and said that one day I would grow up to break hearts. I giggled and told him I that I had no wish to do such a thing, and he laughed. I saw him from a

distance after that when my father took me to Tir, and once he looked my way and actually blew me a kiss, sealing his place in my dreams. That memory came flooding back to me now, but I could see he still didn’t know who I was. Good. This could be interesting. He had said his name with pride. I was smiling and looking him over. Except for the fact that he was wearing human clothes now, he was exactly as I remembered him. Tall, dark blonde warrior Fae with a smile that seduced without trying. He had called me Shee Willow—Shee meaning Fae. He had an ‘Old World accent’ similar to my father’s. Shee Willow from him was more than fine. After all, he was a royal Fae, and I supposed he believed he was giving me a sign of respect. I asked him what he wanted to talk to me about. What could be so important? He answered by swooping me into his embrace and whispering softly, “I want to talk to you for many reasons. However, you are a tempting beauty, and I would like to get to know …” His kisses gently covered my neck and my ears with ease and expertise. I managed to pull away. I mean this was too much too soon even for my infatuated person. Just what was happening here and why—I wanted the real why of it explained. Trying to maintain composure while I held my towel tightly in place, I stepped back and away from him and told him roundly, “Hold on, fella.” He grinned wickedly and stepped towards me once more. I put my arm out and wagged a finger. “Breslyn, Prince of Dagda—why are you here … the real reason now, if you please?” I realized then that I would always be a Fae. I wasn’t just human, as I had been pretending to everyone for so long. Here was another part of my life. Here was another part of who I was. I was Fae as well as human. I had their powers, their magic— and Fae abilities. However, I was human because I was mortal. He studied me for a moment before saying, “The other reason you mean?” He shrugged. “Very well, little warrior. You must already know.” I frowned. “What … little warrior—what are you talking about?” “What did you just encounter at the airport?” He had managed to shock me. My whole body went rigid. I had totally put it out of my head. How could I have done that? My eyebrows were up—my eyes were open wide. I heard him murmur something about their beautiful violet color, and I swished it away with my hand. “You know? How do you know? Were you there? If you were there, why didn’t you help me?” “I was about to help you, when I saw you look at the iron. I knew in that moment that you had it well in control.” Now that had me mad. I stomped my foot for the first time in my adult life. “What? You let me face that that cockroach drooling thing … and … I … you …” “I was there watching from another dimension. You were never in danger. You didn’t really need me. You were, in fact, quite brilliant.” That stopped me. “I was?” “Oh yes. I was most impressed. I mean you haven’t even had any formal training, have you, and yet, instincts, intelligence, power were yours in that moment. I like you, Shee Willow.” “But … it saw me in the end …?” “It doesn’t matter.” “Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because the abomination is dead and gone.” I was stunned for a moment. “Dead … how …?” He puffed out his considerable chest. “What do you mean how? I am the prince of Dagda—” “Yes, yes, but … how did you kill it … it is immortal.” “With my Danu weapon, and I was merciful. I made it quick.” I digested this and asked, “Does the queen …” Then I answered myself. “Of course the queen … knows.” He sighed and took my hand. “The wall between man and Fae has been forcefully compromised. Of course my queen knows. She believes that the wall will be in danger of receiving a potent attack at Samhain this year. She is enlisting her most trusted Fae and Druids to prevent this from happening.” He eyed me. “I know that you are able—you have demonstrated that. The question remains—are you willing to work with us, Shee Willow?” My answer—my reaction came from the gut without thinking and surprised me. I couldn’t believe the strong feeling it dredged up from me. “Of course, I will always serve my queen—but … what can I do?” A sudden realization surged through me. All those years ago I had somehow made an impression on the queen of Fae! Our one, our only encounter had impressed her so much that she was willing to trust me to help her? I was almost overwhelmed with a feeling I wasn’t immediately able to identify. “For now …” he was saying softly, “ … you will be our eyes and ears here in Killarney, at Bantry Manor. We have a Seelie traitor who is I think quite insane. His name is Gaiscioch, and we believe Gaiscioch will try and emerge from a portal he is constructing near the lakes. Right now he has taken refuge in the Dark Realm with Queen Morrigu. We believe he means to open a very large portal on one of the many islands on the Upper Lake. Between them—he and Morrigu—there is the chance that they may manage to break down the Walls of Fae, and if they do, it will be hell on Earth … as well as on Tir!” “But who is this Gaiscioch—why would he want to do such a thing?” At that moment I got worried about my dad. Just what was he doing? “Gais is a spiteful, murderous villain, a despicable Fae with age and power.” He moved closer to me. His hand had already found my shoulder, slipped softly down my arm, made its way to my back, and gently pulled me to him. I was all too conscious of the fact that I was naked except for the towel wrapped around me. I tried to object—too late. I was in his embrace, and oh my—oh my … his body felt like it was molded from stone. He had me slammed up so firmly against him that I felt that huge, hard male thing pressing into me as he bent me for his kiss. What am I doing? He is a Fae. I don’t mingle with Fae. Not even with this very special one. No, this was not what I wanted, but his kiss was oh so … Oookay. Maybe a kiss or two or three …? His lips parted mine. His tongue gently teased mine to receive a seductive introduction and then with a soft curse he was pulling away. I almost pulled him back for more but managed to stop myself. What, am I nuts? Where is Willow Lang? Quiet, unadventurous, keep your head low, Willow Lang? “I will return soon, Shee Willow.”

“But what—did something happen? How can you leave now? You can’t just pop in, say you need my help, and not tell me everything I need to know. I don’t know anything really. What am I supposed to do? What should I look out for?” He grinned and held my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Pretty Willow, I wish I could stay longer. I will when I come back, but for now … I have been … paged.” He laughed, and he was gone.

~ Four ~ HERE I WAS, THE proprietor of the very reputable Bantry Auction House, and I didn’t know what the frig I was doing there. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said that Roland sent me there to get me out of the way, but why would he have done that? What could be his reason? And if there was one, it couldn’t be good. I had no illusions about Roland Omren when I took him on. I knew what his hard-core bottom line was. I knew that he had been bitten by the gypsy, nomadic bug—to travel— and that those things might get in the way of his sticking to his job. Also, and more importantly, I had always known that Roland was loyal to Roland and no other. He’d work for my better interests as long as it served his interest to do so. His was a story he hadn’t risen above—yet. I had hoped he might by now. His mother had been a distant relative of mine. A branch of my family had disowned her when she ran away and married his gypsy father. Roland’s bitterness about his mother’s family having so much, and he so little, had blackened his nature from an early age. I knew he harbored jealousy about how much I had. Now and then, I caught a sneer in his eyes and derision in his voice, especially when he said, ‘Yes, Squire Bantry’. I tried to ignore his cool dislike. He was talented, and I thought to aid him in a career it was obvious he enjoyed. When he came to me three years ago, he claimed a skill and knowledge of antiquities and fine art. I decided to give him a chance. I allowed him stay at the West End cottage on Bantry, and he began working for me. He was good, better than good. He had an eye for the type of antiquities my business handled, and his critique of fine classical art was excellent. He liked traveling, and I paid him a solid commission on every item I purchased before it sold in my establishment on Bond Street in London. However, just recently I described a piece I wanted him to search out for me. I even drew him a sketch of what it looked like. I did not tell him its significance, nor did I ever mean to discuss that part of my life with him. He had an assignment that for all appearances was like all his other assignments. He came to me yesterday and said that he had gotten a call from a learned antiquities dealer that advised him that a family-owned small antiquity shop in Dublin had the piece I was looking for in their possession and that they weren’t even aware of its worth. Right then, I went to see for myself. It was a wild goose chase. To what purpose? To get me away from Bantry? Why? You may wonder at it and suggest that perhaps Roland was simply given some misinformation, and I was sure that was what he would tell me, but it didn’t wash. The description I had given him of the relic was too precise to make this sort of mistake! The artifact I had come to Dublin to purchase had certainly turned out to be ancient,

perhaps three hundred years old, but it was not what I had come for. And Roland knew better, because he knew exactly what I had been searching for. That was the long and the short of it. At any rate, I bought the piece for my auction house in London where it would fetch a pretty penny, and Roland would make a fine commission, but I didn’t have the artifact I needed … Then all at once and for the hundredth time today, Willow Lang’s image came to mind. And for no damn reason I found myself sighing. I don’t know why I hired her. When I saw her I knew she would be trouble, and I still couldn’t stop myself from hiring her. I mean to steer clear of this wee lass. It was just as well that I wasn’t at Bantry when she arrived. It had been a conscious decision to stay away and allow her to get acquainted with my home in a leisurely fashion. Attractive—damn, stunning made a better description—and I didn’t want to go that route. Why the bloody hell I had her installed at the manor instead of at the guesthouse was more than I could understand. I wanted only minimal interaction with her. She was too damn enchanting with that pixie face and those violet eyes … and damn, that body! From the moment I saw her I wanted to pull her up against me, beneath me, over me! I shook myself loose from those thoughts. The question of what I should do next presented itself. Another sigh—too damn many sighs! There was no doubt I was too attracted to the woman. I was going to have to deal with the situation. I was going to have to avoid her. Her days would be spent in the solarium painting, out of my way. There, that was the ticket—completely avoid her. This decision made, I didn’t see any reason to prolong my stay in Dublin. And then I found myself slipping into thoughts about Willow Lang’s long, white-gold hair. I had an urge to reach out and touch it the first moment I saw her. Idly I wondered where she might be when I got home … Son of a bitch—this had to stop! I was thinking like a schoolboy and mooning over a pretty face. Aye, she was a beautiful woman, but there was nothing more to it. Och—but she was a very fine piece of arse … so maybe what I needed was to lay her down, drive myself into her, and get Willow Lang out of my system. Maybe? However, I didn’t get involved with employees. That led to serious problems, and I didn’t need to complicate my life any further. Having thought this out, and confident that I could keep her at a distance, I called for my jet to be ready to return to Kerry. There was no sense my staying in Dublin; besides I wanted to see Roland in the morning and find out why in hell he sent me after an artifact he had to know was not even close to the piece I described to him. *** I am a princess, with training that should not allow the anxious sensation that ran through my insides at the thought that my prince would immediately be with me. My fingers pulled the wayward strands of my waist-length auburn hair, and I stood waiting (trying desperately not to look anxious) as curious acquaintances passed by. All I could think was, Breslyn—you will soon be here. He arrived, and there was such a look in his eyes, as though the sight of me took his breath away …

I also saw that he immediately shut himself off from such notions. I could just hear the words in his head, Not Ete, she is just a child! This continued to be very annoying. “Ete.” Breslyn’s voice was soft, and I moved into him. “Do you like the way I am wearing my hair?” I asked and looked into his eyes. “Yes, it highlights the gold within the auburn … I like the way it sways when it is long and loose like it is now …” He stopped himself and touched my nose. “Naughty minx.” I laughed. I could turn on my Lianhan power—but, no, that would make him leave. I decided to steer the subject away from romance. “I am glad you were able to come so quickly.” “The channel I created between us was not meant to be used for any but emergency purposes, Ete.” His brow was up. I giggled. “Define emergency. I am certain I have one.” He scowled at me. “Your call came with the resonance of a sonic boom, enfant.” I smiled and hoped it was saucy. “I haven’t called you in an age, and I wanted to see if it still worked.” As you can imagine, this ticked him off considerably. I took his hand and held it to my cheek, “Please, my prince—do not be angry with me …” “I do not respond well to testing, Ete—my time is valuable.” I eyed him and pursed my lips, hoping it was enticing. “Too valuable for me?” That got him. He tweaked my nose. “I can think of nothing that out-values you.” I smiled and that smile came from the inside as I jumped up and down in my head before I hugged him to me. However, I managed to say quietly, “Besides, I was not really testing—I wanted to invite you—” He laughed and cut me off. “You are a brat of a beauty, a willful child, and deserve a lecture here and now.” “Would it not be nicer to go to the pavilion and hear some music?” That made him frown. I knew he did not want me to depend on him for such entertainment. However, I also know he loves music … “I am sure there is any number of Corinthians vying for the chance to escort you to the concert.” “Yes, but I prefer your company.” He looked at me long, and I could see his mind working. He started to excuse himself. He wanted to say no, but he found he couldn’t. Instead, he bent his arm and shifted us to the outdoor pavilion. As we sat and enjoyed the music, I wondered if he was still missing his human woman, Lia. I didn’t think so. He seemed pleased with the orchestra. He seemed pleased with our surroundings, and from the amount of looks he cast my way, I could tell he was beginning to thaw … perhaps, just perhaps, I didn’t look so very young to him any longer? He wanted to be free. He was presently free. I might pose a threat to that freedom? Indeed, I have a road to walk still … *** It was nearly eight o’clock. I had done the Willow-to-dad call more times than I could count and came up with zilch. So, I found and devoured my dinner. Don’t hate me, but the part of me that is Fae uses up all my calories. I can eat anything and in huge quantities without putting on weight.

At any rate, I put the dishes in the dishwasher and began rambling about on the first floor of the manor. Every room was decorated with an eye for detail, comfort, and welcoming coziness. I ended up in the library and decided that I absolutely loved the room. The ceiling was high and ornately designed. The walls were stacked with shelves upon shelves of books. The charming lead-paned windows were situated at intervals between the bookshelves and created an outdoor feeling. Those windows overlooked a stone patio with black wrought iron furniture and potted flowers. A garden light illuminated the area, and the entire scene made me feel enchanted. I had discarded my towel and put on a pretty yellow nightie (I like sexy even when I am by myself). Over this I wore a matching short robe that just made it to my thighs. A fire still glowed in the large fireplace, and I selected a book and took up a cozy spot on a large brown leather chair closest to the flames. I didn’t read much; instead, I curled up and promptly fell asleep. The next thing I knew I heard a voice softly saying my name. I felt a large hand touch my shoulder. I tried to open my eyes, but they didn’t seem to want to cooperate. I had a hazy vision of a large man standing over me. My woozy senses told me to wake up, wake up! He loomed large in my dream-state, and I think I smiled. Oh yeah, I was smiling, much like a village idiot. In my defense was the fact that I thought I was dreaming. His Irish brogue tickled my senses into wakefulness, and I tried to focus on where I was, who I was, who he was. All at once I realized I wasn’t dreaming. There was a hunk of eye candy standing right in front of me, and it was Squire Shayne Bantry. I scurried to tie my robe closed, thankful my naked self under the nightie wasn’t hanging out. As I pulled the robe in place around my body and tied it tight, I found myself blabbering. I haven’t a clue what I said. I glanced his way to see that he was looking amused. “Easy then, Ms. Lang—don’t rush on my account …” I could hear the flirtation in his tone. I could see a spark of something in his eyes. I could feel his sexuality revving up. He had my shoulders and was gently lowering me back into my chair. I managed to remember my manners, “Squire … I am sorry … I must have fallen asleep …” “Yes, when I saw you sleeping I went to the kitchen and fixed us a pot of tea. I thought it might be nice to have a cup before you go up for the evening …?” He was already pouring. I was looking at him because I couldn’t look away. This was a big and erotically beautiful man. His green eyes were glittering with speckles of gold, and they were definitely twinkling with appreciation. Huh? He found me funny, not desirable, but amusing? Well, I must look a mess—of course he would find me a funny bird! He was wearing a dark gray long-sleeved knit sweater that hugged his perfect torso. His slacks were black and silky. His mouth was sensuous, and his tongue peeked out and licked his lower lip. First a Fae hotty, and now this human hunk all in one night. Heaven—this was any young woman’s version of heaven. I took the teacup he offered and attempted to sip. It was hot. He offered milk, and I nodded and stuck my cup and saucer at him. He smiled and poured. I watched. He sat back with his own cup and sipped before he asked, “Well then, Miss Lang, I trust your flight was comfortable?”

“It was great,” I managed to squeak out and felt a fool. In the back of my mind I had a flash of the cockroach Unseelie and the black hole portal. I felt my eyes blink as I put this vision away. He was smiling again. I had this feeling, this instinct that told me he didn’t do much of that—smiling that is. “And Bridget showed you to an acceptable suite?” His tone was polite and cool. “The best, Squire, thank you.” “Shayne—my name is Shayne,” he said softly, and again he surprised me because he suddenly frowned. He banished the frown and asked, “Have you seen the solarium yet? I hope it will suit you for your work.” “No …” I was drowning in his Irish brogue. His accent sent shivers through me. I felt a complete fool, unable to converse with any intelligence. “But I’m sure it will be perfect.” “I will take you there tomorrow and show you which paintings I would like you to get started on first.” Something had bothered me a good part of the day. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this question before, but now that I had thought of it, I needed an answer, “Squire … Shayne … would you mind telling me just how you came by my name?” He hesitated and put a thumb to his sensuous lower lip. “I had requested my business agent to locate a few of the best restoration artists. He submitted your name, and it was nearly on top of the list.” I laughed. “Oh, and the artists at the top of the list were not available?” His eyebrow went up. “I don’t know. You were the first and only artist I contacted.” Now my eyebrow went up. We sat in thoughtful silence for a moment as we sipped our tea. Finally, I remembered how I was clothed (or unclothed for that matter) and how inappropriate it was. I put down my cup and saucer and said, “Well … thank you for the tea … I think I will call it a night.” “I will walk you up.” “Oh, please there is no need. I know the way.” “And still, I will walk you up.” I could see this big bad boy was used to getting his way. Now, why did I call him a bad boy? I didn’t know enough about him to put him in a category. Yet, I knew that he most definitely was, if not bad, certainly dangerous, and I know you know what I mean. It was written all over his muscular sexy body. We took the stairs in silence. I still hadn’t a clue what to talk about, and I could see he was deep in thought. It seemed to take forever because for me the silence was uncomfortable. We were finally at my door (whew and double whew). He opened it wide and inclined his head. “Good night, Ms. Lang.” “Well, if you want me to call you Shayne, then you must call me Willow.” I should have just smiled and ran inside. Why didn’t I just do that? Because now—now something else was going on. There was something in his sparkling green eyes, deep-seated, smoky, and low-throttled. I felt my mind bend towards him, melt for him, long for him, and whoops, I caught myself. This was crazy. Back girl, back! His Irish brogue took my name and made my toes curl. “Good night, Willow.” I had to walk into my room. Could I do it without tripping over myself? I put my hand out and touched the door. He took my elbow to steady me. He was in the room with me. We were there in the bedroom with that pretty, king-sized bed, and it seemed to come

alive and pulsated an invitation just a few feet away from where we stood staring at each other. I was caught in a spell that enveloped both of us. I physically felt it. I was certain he felt it. Then all at once I wasn’t certain of anything because he let his hand fall from my elbow and was backing up, taking the doorknob in his strong hold, and closing the door firmly between us. I heard him walk away. Well—what in all that was real and steady was that?

~ Five ~ I LOOKED AWAY FROM the painting and up at the gilt-framed clock on the far wall and saw that it was already three in the afternoon! I hadn’t realized so much time had gone by, and I sighed as I stretched by arms towards the beautiful white, intricately designed ceiling. I moved away from the easel and bent to my toes and then shook my body loose. I had been standing at my easel since eight in the morning (not counting the short break I took to eat the sandwich Bridget had brought me at lunch—and the couple of restroom runs all the way down the hall.) I took a sip of the bottled water I always have at my side when I work and started putting my things away. When Shayne Bantry introduced me to his collection of very fine, very classical paintings I lost all power of speech. They were all magnificent, and for a long while I realized I was holding my breath as I went through them. He watched me and didn’t say a word. That was a weirdness all its own—having him stand behind me, watching me all the while. Never mind that, because this solarium was any artist’s absolute dream place to work. Three walls were constructed with frosted glass windows. Ornamental tropical palms were tastefully situated all those windows. The lighting was perfect. Restoration requires concentration on the intricate textures and shades that must be used. I was working on a painting by Diderot dated 1767! It was named ‘Rapture’, which was a good word to describe how it made me feel … It had never been worked on before, and its condition was amazingly good. Preservation of oil paintings such as this one depended so much on location, its surrounding conditions, and air quality, but if I didn’t know better, I would have said the hand of magic had been used to keep this painting and all the others quite beautifully preserved. Oh—they needed touching up, yes, but not as much as one would think. It was quite astounding really. Apparently all Bantry’s ancestors gathered and accumulated art from their time periods, and it was difficult not to ooh and ah over his enormous and wondrous collection. Beauties every single last one. Shayne Bantry’s collection was a museum curator’s dream display! That said—let me tell you about my all-of-a-sudden, back to ‘Ms. Lang’ morning with the squire. The previous night, when we said goodnight, I wondered if I’d imagined the steamy vapor coming off of both of us. Well, I was now sure of it. Imagination. Shayne Bantry met me that morning in the kitchen, and we had a quick cup of coffee and fresh buns that Bridget had just pulled out of the oven. It was really awkward and uncomfortable. The night before he had been friendly, approachable, and flirty, and so I made the mistake of saying, “Good morning, Shayne.” I supposed he forgot that we were on Willow/Shayne terms, because he responded

coldly with, “Ms. Lang.” I concentrated on my coffee and bun and made light conversation with Bridget. He did not participate, and I began to wonder if I had done something wrong. This sure wasn’t the guy I had tea with the previous night. Oh no, this one was made of ice and steel. He then took me to the solarium and showed me the paintings that needed my immediate attention. Then, with scarcely a ‘so long’, he was gone. I felt ridiculously discarded, and there was a flutter of hurt that just mildly singed. I could deal with those feelings. I had dealt with them before, but this time for the first time in a long time, it had happened unexpectedly. I had forgotten to put up my guard. I wouldn’t do that again. Never mind. I was glad he had gone and off my mind. I concentrated on setting myself up and studied just what binders would work for me on the canvas, and that suddenly brought me to three in the afternoon. The August afternoon looked still sunny and inviting, so I put away my palette, and reached for my light navy cardigan on a nearby chair. With its warmth over my shoulders and the white tank top I was wearing with my Banana Republic jeans, I headed outdoors. I so needed to walk. The Bantry estate was absolutely enchantingly laid out and large enough to walk forever without being able to see it all. (I am exaggerating, of course, but the size of the estate was hard to take in.) Flowerbeds of all types and colors were designed to catch the eye. There was a pond with benches set to beckon and tempt a passerby to give it up and come and sit. I was tempted, but then from around the bend of a tall evergreen two large dogs ran with huge strides, as they barked ferociously, and then they leapt right towards me! I went to my knees and welcomed them—two wonderful, beautiful German shepherds. Suddenly they halted nearly in mid-air and came softly into my arms. Moments like those remind me that I am a Fae. Fae are beings of Nature. Fae love animals, and animals usually respond most dramatically in kind. We made instant friends. “Well, I have never seen them take to a stranger like that before!” A man’s deep, strangely accented, and amused voice brought my head up. I looked up and discovered a pair of dark, nearly black eyes set in the ruggedly masculine face of a stranger. Slowly, I got up to stand before him while I petted the heads of the shepherds sitting now on either side of me. He was tall, not as tall as the squire, but tall enough. He had thick curling hair of various shades of brown highlighted with auburn. He watched me as I scanned him, and he ran his gaze over me as well. I liked the look of him. He had a hard, square jaw, an outdoorsy face, and a sexy shadow beard. While he was not quite handsome in the classical sense, he was certainly very attractive. His smile was saucy and fully charged. “Don’t they?” I managed and brushed my windblown hair away from my face. “I love animals … they seem to know it,” I said, wondering who he was. His quick glance swept over me again with appreciation, and his dark lashes brushed his well-formed cheeks. “A sign of an open heart,” he said lightly and then added, “I am Roland Omren.” He extended his hand. I reached and gave him mine. He took it to his lips, and as he kissed my knuckles his eyes rose up to my face, and he said, “You are a beauty and, girl, I could live in your eyes.”

I laughed. “Now that was well done, Mr. Omren. I am Willow … Willow Lang.” “Willow …” he whispered softly with that unusual accent that I couldn’t place. “When did you get here? I swear you weren’t here yesterday morning.” “Quite right—I only just arrived yesterday afternoon. I am here to do restoration work on the squire’s classic canvas paintings.” “Ah, then you are staying in the guesthouse?” I frowned. “No … in the manor.” He was surprised and didn’t bother to hide it. “Never say so!” “Well … why?” “Himself never brings a woman into the manor house as a guest.” “Hmmm … so I was told.” I smiled. “But there … I am not a guest. Simply an employee.” I looked at him meaningfully. “Only an employee.” I wanted no misunderstandings here. “Then the squire truly is not himself.” “Ah, so from that I take it that the squire must be quite the lady’s man?” I waved this off and added casually, “Whatever. That has nothing to do with me. Here to work on his fine art—nothing else.” He laughed out loud. “Direct little woman.” “I figure it’s best to get things like that out of the way.” “Ay, I suppose it is.” “So then, off I go on my walk …” Time to move on, I told myself. I was getting mixed messages about this guy—can’t give you a reason. “No, wait!” He called me to a stop. “Yes, sir?” “Roland—call me Roland.” “Yes, Roland?” Now I twinkled. Everything about his smile, his eyes, and his body movements was aimed at engaging my interest and flirting. I didn’t mind. But although he got prettier by the second, I didn’t quite trust him. Telling me that Bantry was a ladies’ man was like the pot calling the kettle thing, and besides, he didn’t know me well enough to be warning me off. “I have a cottage … Creek Cottage on the Bantry’s west end, just about half a mile’s walk from here. If ever you need something … you can’t get at the manor … come to me.” His grin was wicked. Outrageous, but it got a warm laugh out of me as I wagged a finger. “You are a naughty boy, but thank you. I shall take that to mean that if ever I were in trouble … you would help?” “You, pretty Willow, can count on it,” he said. I started off, and he called, “Bouncer, Buck … here …” They started for him and then changed their minds and returned to me. He laughed and said, “You have company, m’dear.” “Oh, I am sorry. Are they your dogs … do you want them with you?” “No, they are the squire’s, but they often come visit me at the cottage. I hope the next time they will bring you with them.” I laughed and waved myself off. Well, Ireland was full of very intriguing males—that was for sure. I wondered fleetingly just what his relationship to Shayne Bantry was, and it occurred to me that Bridget would know.

*** My excursion over Bantry grounds took more than an hour. I purposely made my way to the kitchen door on my return in hopes of finding Bridget still there. She was, and she turned to greet me with that warm, open smile of hers and waved her hand at a chair as she brought over a tray of tea and delicious looking pastries. That was exactly what I wanted, some tea and some talk. As I pulled up a chair she sat at the table and poured the ready brew. She smiled and slid a plate of the ‘not to be denied goodies’ at me. I took up a knife and only took half of a sweet bun. I sipped tea and was wondering just how to broach the subject I wanted to talk about when Bridget gave me the opening by asking me, “So then, child, did ye have a good day?” “Fantastic, Bridget. I managed to really get a lot of work done, and then I took the most wonderful walk on the grounds. Bouncer and Buck came with me.” “Did they now …?” She hesitated, and I could see the question on her face. I dove right in. “Bridget, I met someone. The dogs were with him, and he says he lives in a cottage right on Bantry grounds—somewhere west … he said?” “Roland Omren!” Bridget almost spit. “I’ll just bet ye caught his wicked eye. I shouldn’t be telling ye what to do, love, but I will say ye don’t want to take up with that fellow.” “So then, you don’t like him. Why is that? Just who is he?” “Like him? There was a time we would have welcomed him into the family, open arms.” She made a snorting noise before continuing, “We would have loved him. We were that close to it … may the Saints preserve and keep us.” She shook her head as though she was reprimanding herself, and then again with a venomous tone she hissed the next words, “Half-breed gypsy he turned out to be. A black-hearted soul is who he is. That one can’t be trusted. We should have known. Fine looking—fine talking—and before ye know it, the black-hearted gypsy in him will steal whatever ye have and then whistle as he leaves. That is what he did to my poor, lovely niece. He left her completely heart-broken!” I had inwardly flinched when she had said half-breed. That’s what I am—a halfbreed—and perhaps in the recesses of my mind I immediately took a stance beside Roland. I am not sure. I only know that all at once, I took what she said with more salt than I would ordinarily have done. He had hooked up with her niece, been welcomed by the family, and then—what did he do, leave the bride at the alter—renege on the marriage proposal? “He broke their engagement?” I asked in a tone I hoped was gentle. “Engagement—bless ye, child. It’s what she wanted—what we had all hoped for, seeing as he seemed a good man … with a good living working for the squire, and all— but he had no intention of marrying her. Said he wasn’t the marrying kind. He broke her heart, he did.” “I see,” I said and tried to change the subject. “Oh Bridget, this bun is out of sight.” I finished the last of my half and reached for the rest. Eat, don’t talk, I told myself. I was on touchy ground here. She was already turned to the ‘on’ position and had a great deal more she wanted to impart to me. She continued, “He was here he was, about thirty minutes ago. All smiling and

swaggering, asked me if the squire was in. I told him no, but did he leave—not he. Off he went to the library saying he had some reading to do, and would wait for the squire there.” She ended this line of thought with, “Humph!” I wasn’t sure what to say that would allow me to stay neutral and still be sympathetic, so I said, “How awful for you, Bridget.” As she ranted on for a bit, I hurriedly drank my remaining tea. I needed to get up, because I had an overwhelming urge to head for the library. You see, I am a contrary thing. Tell me not to do something, and I want more than ever to do it. Except maybe for sky diving, which I think I have decided never to do. Tell me not to want something I think I might want, and I want it even more. Now I wanted to go to the library and investigate Roland Omren the gypsy for myself. I downed my tea, devoured the other half bun, and excused myself, saying I was going up to shower and change. A moment later I was at the library door, and there I stopped abruptly! Shayne Bantry was in the library with Roland Omren, and their conversation was loud, angry, and in another language. I realized that I understood the language they spoke. It was Romany, the ancient (although still used by some family groups) language of the gypsies. I had never heard it before, but I understood every single word and complex meaning. Fae advantage. Here was the thing—I cannot deny what I am. Sometimes … at times like these when I am shaken out of my human-ness with the ability to understand a language I have never heard before, I think I am more Fae than human, and that probably is close to the truth. I had long ago put it down to this: my body, basically human and mortal; my mind and hidden abilities, Fae. I listened and automatically translated Romany into English, which reminded me that I had the Fae power of Tongue. Tongue was the ability to speak and understand all languages. I aced languages in high school, and then at college, so I have always known that I possessed the quality, but each time this occurs—I am startled into remembering who I am. As my mind worked the translation I had to wonder just what sort of household I had walked into here at Bantry. Roland was furious with the squire, and he didn’t bother to hide it. I could hear the anger along with something else—caution?—in his voice as he growled, “You should trust me by now, Shayne, but I see that you don’t!” “Roland, don’t make the mistake of thinking me a fool. Trust? I don’t trust anyone ever. Life taught me that, and I adhere to that principle. Besides, even if I was the trusting sort, you haven’t earned my trust yet, and this incident sets you back. You know what I have been looking for. It is not the sort of Relic that can be mistaken in any way shape or form. You own your own brand of—shall we call it ‘artistic magic’ and know a Fae Relic when you come across one. You knew what you sent me chasing after was not what I wanted. Further and more to the point, you knew that I need all four pieces of the mask. That is imperative—don’t bother asking me why. The point is, you had the description of what I was looking for, and still you sent me off on a wild goose chase. I must ask myself why?” “Shayne—you are being obtuse. When I was there … so was the Relic piece, just as you described! You must believe me—” “And if this was so, why did you wait hours to contact me? You have been valuable to me, but your singularly odd behavior in this instance makes me wonder if you haven’t switched allegiance?”

“Switched allegiance to whom? Who would I be working for, and why would I stay on with you if I was working for someone else?” “Precisely what I am now considering, the why in this puzzle.” “Look, I don’t know what your beef with the Seelie Fae is. I don’t care. I make a better than good living with you. I have no reason to take a one-time deal from someone else, and like you, I don’t trust anyone.” Roland’s tone was sharp. “The Fae Relic was there. I saw it. I felt its power—I felt it glow as only a Roma Gypsy could feel. I saw the power it possessed. The McAllesters thought it was a piece from the Iron Age. They hadn’t a clue as to what it really was, but, Shayne, as I told you, the other bidder that was there seemed determined to get his hands on the piece. He put in a substantial bid. As soon as I heard his bid, I picked up the phone and called you, but you were out of reach. I stalled for as long as I could.” “Who was this man?” “I didn’t recognize him, and that is unusual. I thought I knew anyone and everyone interested in antiquities of this sort. This man wore a low-brimmed hat and sunglasses. He was … different—almost deformed, yet … not. I can’t explain the feeling he gave me … almost as though he wasn’t human. Look, damn it. None of it felt right. I know I must have stared at him, because I felt like something was out of whack. That was when I got this sensation … wondered if I was looking at an Unseelie in human Glamour. And if it was, his Glamour didn’t make him any raving beauty. It was almost disorienting. I couldn’t get past the feeling that something was off. I felt off balance—dizzy, like the room was distorted, and then I got sick to my stomach.” Roland sighed. “You have to believe that I thought you would get there in time and outbid him. I left you enough messages. As far as the other piece that I found there, well come on, it couldn’t hurt to buy it for the Auction House. That is if you are still in the business of making money? Because, Shayne, I only make a commission when you actually purchase something!” “Didn’t get your messages,” Shayne snapped. “And an Unseelie Fae? What would an Unseelie be doing shopping for artifacts? When they escape—they feed.” Shayne shook his head. “Besides, it was a Seelie Relic. How would an Unseelie put it to use? I doubt if they could actually even touch it.” “He had a woman with him. Perhaps she was going to handle it?” Roland shrugged this all off and said, “At least we’ll make some money out of this …” “Is that what this is about for you?” Shayne retorted harshly. “It is always about the money … about you making money.” Roland released a hard laugh. “Not all of us can be so altruistic. Some of us have to work for a living. But honestly, Shayne, I don’t know what more I could have done? I told the McAllester couple that you were on your way to authenticate the Relic and that if their other buyer made them an offer to at least wait till you got there to outbid him. They said they would wait.” “Really, because when I asked them about the other fragment they were supposed to have in their little shop, they gave me blank looks, and said there was no piece like that description. I didn’t have the feeling that they were lying.” Roland was exasperated now. “I don’t know why they would claim that. What in hell is so important about that particular Relic? I thought you despised the Fae?” There was silence for a moment, and then Shayne said quietly, “All you need to know is that we have to get our hands on the remaining two Relics of the set.”He sighed. “And

it seems the game just became more difficult. Apparently we have an active player working against us.” I started to move away, all too conscious of the squeak of my sneakers on the wood flooring. These guys were talking about Seelie and Unseelie Fae. They were talking about Fae Relics. My new employer despises the Fae. I am Fae. This was so not good! A shiver worked its way up my spine. Something was wrong here. I mean, what were the odds that I (half human/half Fae) would end up working for a man who was not only familiar with and believed in the Fae but disliked them as well? In addition to that stunning fact, he was searching for Fae Relics? Why? Did it have something to do with Gaiscioch? It didn’t sound like it …? Wait, my mind shouted. This was even more complicated than it seemed. What were the odds that I would be in the middle of this very strange coincidence? What were the odds that the squire would have a gypsy working for him who believed in Fae Relics and in Unseelie and Seelie Fae roaming about the streets of Dublin? I mean, did you believe in Fae before you started reading this? Precisely. Roland said that he sensed an Unseelie in Glamour? How was he able to do that? Humans (unless they are Fios—seers) can’t see or sense Fae when they are in Glamour or cloaked in invisibility. Gypsy power? Okay … now I really was going upstairs to my room. I had to think. It was uncanny, but Shayne Bantry opened the door at that very moment and found me stepping quietly down the hall towards the main staircase. I spun around feeling, and probably looking, guilty as hell. “Ah.” His voice was tinged with grim quiet. “Miss Lang. I thought I heard footsteps?” Okay, now add super hearing to the mix. I wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. However, odds today were not in my favor; it looked like I was going to have to face the music. I put on a smile and said, “Hi … I was just going upstairs …” Roland appeared and brushed by the Squire with his hands outstretched. “Willow— did you enjoy your walk? Come in and have some wine with us.” “Hi, Roland—yes, good walk, but I think now I just want to go up …” He had his arm around me and was ushering me into the library. No doubt, he was tired of arguing with Shayne Bantry and had decided to use me as a buffer. So be it. “One glass, and then I will let you go …” he said softly, and his tone was definitely a plea for help. He wanted an end to the conversation with the squire. I turned around and looked at Bantry. His green eyes had narrowed as he studied the two of us. He did not look happy. No doubt he wasn’t finished raking Roland over the coals. “But, really …” I made one more attempt. “I don’t want to interrupt you two …” They had been speaking in Romany. There was no way either one might feel they had been understood, even if overheard, yet I could see that Bantry was thinking about just how long I had been outside the library doors. However, he added his invitation to that of Roland’s. “Nonsense. Our business for the day has been concluded, and wine is definitely in order.” His Irish brogue tickled my insides, and I watched him pour a glass of red wine and offer it my way. He must have seen the resistance in my eyes, because now he was speaking low and invitingly. “I insist …” I took the glass feeling like I had just stepped into the devil’s den. I felt trapped like a

rabbit in a corner. I looked at Roland and then at the squire, and then Roland was taking my elbow to lead me to the sofa, sit me down, and cozy up next to me. Roland’s comforting smile actually did set me more at ease. “I have been hoping I would get to see you when you returned from your walk. Now that you are here—I am not letting you go.” His steamy dark eyes traveled over my lips and down my neck, and then came to rest on my breasts, but for only a fleeting moment. Roland quickly brought his gaze back to my face, and his eyes were so dark they seemed black as onyx as they looked into mine. He then whispered softly as though Bantry had not taken a seat on the big leather-bound chair across from us. “Beautiful Willow … something troubles me.” He seemed so serious. “Oh?” Here it comes, I thought. They were going to tell me they knew I had been listening just outside the door. The guilty die a thousand deaths … or was it the coward? No matter; I was both. Instead he said, “With that face … those lush violet eyes, your figure … how is it you are not spoken for?” I was so relieved I laughed. “Now that is archaic.” I shook my head. “For goodness sake, I am only twenty-three, not quite an ‘old maid’ yet.” “That is not what I meant, and you probably know it,” Roland said. His whisper had dipped into a husky, seductive hush, and with that gypsy accent of his, he sounded as though he was trying to lead me onto another plane. Well, I wasn’t ready to go there, especially with Shayne Bantry’s green glitter staring our way. However, before I could rebuff him, he looked across at Bantry and grinned. “Don’t you agree, Shayne?” The squire was looking like a devil in the middle of a honey pot he had no chance of tasting. He glared as he answered, “Agree about what?” “That it is astounding this perfect little beauty does not have a man in her life?” Bantry took a sip of his wine and then considered me. I felt like a piece of jewelry being inspected by a buyer. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. I started to object to this entire line of conversation when he put up a hand and said, “As a matter of fact, it does make one stop and wonder how, and why that is?” I rolled my eyes. “I could ask that same question of both of you! After all, here you are, two exceptionally attractive gentlemen … a catch for any single female ‘looking’ for a connection and yet, here you are, totally and completely without female attachment. What is that other word—oh yes—free. That’s right, free, a very good word, as good for a woman as a man.” I rarely use sarcasm, but the occasion called for it, don’t you think? Shayne Bantry laughed, and I think Roland was as surprised as I was by this unexpected reaction. I have to tell you, he looked so different when he laughed. When he was serious (which was mostly all the time since I’d met him) he looked unapproachable and foreboding—like a Heathcliff right out of Wuthering Heights. His laugh rolled into a smile that lit his green eyes with warm gold flecks of light, and I was reminded of last night when we had tea and he walked me to my room. Bantry was lifting his glass to me. “Touché, Miss Lang. It is very much your own business why you don’t have a man of your own.” Roland took up a long strand of my hair. “Such an unusual color … something like wheat sun-bleached to perfection—so soft.” He placed the long strand back on my

shoulder and it fell forward onto my breast. I picked it up and flung it back away from my neck and adjusted my position only to find both men staring at me as though I were a meal hot and ready! A beeping went off in my head. Time to leave—outnumbered. Say good-night, Gracie! I felt heat in my cheeks, and damn, I didn’t know where to look, but I knew I was getting out of there immediately. I started to get to my feet. Roland stayed me with his hand on my bare arm and broke the sound of the overwhelming silence in the room with his low, husky whisper. He spoke as though we were the only two people in the room. “Stay … a moment longer, Willow, and I will make you a deal.” I looked across at Shayne Bantry to find that those thick lashes of his were shading his green eyes. I couldn’t even guess what he was thinking. I turned my attention back to Roland. “What deal?” I smiled at the dangerous gypsy in a way I knew I shouldn’t. Trouble led that way. “I will tell you why I am still unshackled, if you will do the same.” “Not going there today or anytime soon.” I put down my half-finished glass of wine. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I really do want to go upstairs and freshen up.” They got to their feet, and I started off, conscious, oh so very conscious, that they both watched my butt as I left the library. I burned with embarrassment all the way up the stairs and until I got to the safety of my bedroom.

~ Six ~ AIDA, ROYAL PRINCESS of the House of Dagda (and Breslyn’s only sibling), lowered her brilliant eyes of sparkling blues and said softly, “Forgive me, my Queen. I know I am behaving too emotionally and that it is most unbecoming. I beg your pardon, but in this instance, I believe I have cause.” Aida turned and looked to me for support. “Is that not true, Ete?” I went forward and took up her hand to pat it and hope that it reassured her. It only served to bring down the queen’s brittle stare on both of us. “Do not encourage her, Ete. She has misbehaved in the extreme.” The queen stood regally in her gown of silver and gold. I could see her eyes soften, as she had a great fondness for Breslyn’s wayward sister. Aida was forever breaking the rules and begging and receiving forgiveness. The queen sighed and added, “My dear Aida, you are even more trouble to me than your older brother ever was.” Beside me, I felt Aida tremble. However, I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be as bad as Aida expected. The queen swept her an affectionate gaze. Aida is a lovely, dark blonde royal Fae princess. She was built along warrior lines and much taller than I. We were just about the same age, but Aida had been in and out of love so many times that I have lost count. I—as you know—have only been in love once … will only be in love once … Evidently Aida’s last escapade had not gone well. I am not certain what she had done, but the queen said quietly that she hoped Aida had learned her lesson. Aida nervously pulled a long curl of her dark blonde hair, most of which was piled at the top of her pretty head. She fidgeted with her lovely gown of yellow silk and then twirled the wide wristband of gold, which depicted her royal status. She could see that our queen meant to keep her standing and feeling the heat of her displeasure. She was in abject misery. Every second that passed on Faery was so much longer in the human world. She whispered to me softly, “Ete … I don’t have the time for this …” “Hush, Aida …” Aida began to wring her delicate hands. The queen watched her and took pity. Silently she waved her to be seated and took up an opposite chair. “Sit with us, Ete—I can see that Aida would like your support in this.” I know that Queen Aaibhe has a soft spot for both Aida and Breslyn. Their parents had been her dear friends and had fought valiantly in our last war against the Milesians. She had watched them killed with Milesian weapons forged from Danu dust. She closed her brilliant eyes as though she were putting the memory aside. That had been in the year 1000 BC. Aida had been so young, and the queen had taken her under her wing. During those years Aida and I had formed an everlasting friendship.

I could see the queen was deep in thought. Was she thinking of a time when Ireland was lost to us? It had been a bloody, unthinkable era. And now, that time was coming back to haunt. The queen sighed to herself. “You two know what we are up against. You know that weapons forged from the dust of Danu are scattered around the Earth for the Unseelies to locate and use …” “They cannot locate them. They cannot sense them,” I said gently. “Thank Danu for that, but Gaiscioch can,” the queen answered sharply. “He is trapped in the Dark Realm.” “And still my sources advise me that he has found another ‘Death Weapon’,” Aaibhe grumbled and then stared hard at Aida. “That is why you must not annoy and distract me with your petty misadventures …” “I would not do that, my Queen. This … this is different.” “How so?” The queen’s delicate brow was up. “As you requested, Desmond Lang and I have been working together this past month, and as you know we were successful in finding and retrieving the Croi Mallet you now have safely hidden. We had a lead about the Spear of Forsai and had gone to Dublin on that lead.” Aida started agitatedly moving her hands again. “I should not have left Desmond … I should have been there watching his back—” “Get to the point, child.” The queen cut in impatiently. “Yes, yes, of course, my Queen.” Aida sighed. “We had been in Dublin for a week in human time, when we were drawn to the McAllesters and visited their shop. They are an elderly couple and we did not sense anything out of the ordinary about them. As it turned out the item they had in their possession was a part of an ancient Fae Relic, but not the death hallow we had been searching for.” “What was this Relic?” The queen stood and moved around the room, obviously now interested. “That remains a mystery to me. Apparently it is part of a mask. The inscription on the Relic read ‘anam’.” “By Danu, we cannot allow this to fall into Gaiscioch’s hands!” A momentary wave of distress wafted in the recesses of our queen’s brilliant eyes. “This is, indeed, a Relic we must retrieve. It is one of the four sections of the Mask of Anam.” “Then, my Queen, you know what it is—what it does? Because neither Des nor I could figure it out. I mean we know that anon means ‘soul’, but what does the Relic do?” I could see that Aida was momentarily diverted, but then the queen took a step as she closed her eyes. I could feel the intensity of thought that was bubbling in her mind. She was reaching outward, but I couldn’t tell why. Suddenly she went to Aida and took her hand. “That doesn’t matter. Where is the Relic?” It suddenly struck me that the queen was frowning because she realized Aida didn’t have it. This particular piece of the mask was still out there. “Here is the thing …” Aida fidgeted. “I thought we should pay them their price and get a hold of it even though it wasn’t what we were looking for, but Des thought we needed to move on. He said our instructions were specific, and he didn’t want to waste time deviating from those instructions. He said we could not be diverted from our mission. I strongly disagreed. We went outside the shop so that we could discuss the

matter privately, and come to a decision …” “Your instincts have always been excellent, my Aida.” The queen nodded. “You were of course right to think you should obtain our Fae Relic immediately. I cannot fault Desmond for attempting to adhere to my command, but in this particular instance I forgive you, Aida, if you were side-tracked by your instincts.” The queen regarded Aida gravely. “Now, please continue.” Aida went blissfully on, and I could see she was totally unaware of the queen’s increasingly dark expression. “Well, yes, I knew you would feel that way—after all I have the advantage of having attained my majority at your side so to speak and know what you would wish should events deviate from what was expected. It was a Fae Relic, and therefore it should be procured.” Aida’s pretty chin was up. The queen’s lips curved. “Aida, the Mask?” “So, we decided that Des would return to the shop while he sent me off to check the other lead we had been following while in Dublin.” Aida became agitated again. “I should not have left him. I should have realized something was wrong …” The queen rarely rolled her eyes. However, she allowed herself this moment of frustration as Aida went on in her style. “Come to the point, child.” “I am getting there. Yes, so I had been right to think something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t, my Queen.” I saw the Queen’s expression of concern. It was fairly obvious that Aida had not obtained the mask fragment, but there was more to the story, and I could see the queen was disturbed. “Tell me now, dear, just what went wrong.” “I didn’t have a handle on it then. I felt something was out of sync, but like the stupid, empty-headed thing that I am, off I went, leaving Desmond. Later, when Desmond didn’t meet me I went back to the shop, and the McAllesters said that he had never returned. But, what’s more to the point is the fact that they denied any knowledge of the mask fragment they had shown us earlier.” Aida hung her head. “My Queen, the worst of it is this: When I returned to their little shop, I knew what I had been sensing around us all morning—because there it was, and in the closed quarters of their small shop, I came to realize that what I was picking up was the scent of an Unseelie.” Aida bit her lip. “I didn’t know their scent. This was a first experience for me.” The queen bit her bottom lip and waved her hand with a show of agitation, and in a low voice said, “Ah, of course, one of the many Unseelie escapees—an Unseelie drone that no doubt belongs to Gaiscioch.” Lately I have been feeling that my queen believed that time was of the essence. Time, which we have so much of, has never before meant very much to most of we Fae. Gaiscioch was hard at work, and it was obvious to my queen what he was doing. He was gathering as many Seelie Relics and weapons as he could find. “The Unseelie must have used the Fai Forsai on the humans so that they would not remember,” I suggested both to Aida and the queen. It was a questionable Seelie Fae spell, because more often than not it caused humans some temporary, but severe, harm. It took a human’s immediate memory, and often left them dazed and feeling ill for weeks on end. “Yes, apparently so, for they did not seem quite lucid,” Aida stuck in. “I also picked up on the scent of a female human that accompanied the drone. The Unseelie drone must have used her to carry our Relic for him. The abomination cannot touch our Relics … but

his human could.” Aida frowned. “I always thought it would make them ill to be in the same room with one of our Hallows.” “It does make them ill to be in close contact with Seelie Hallows and Relics. However, he must have maintained a distance. I am certain the drone and the human have hidden our Relic. Unseelies cannot utilize the power of Seelie Relics and Hallows. It will stay dormant and unusable until Gaiscioch can get to it.” The queen didn’t expect an answer—she was clearly thinking out loud. “At any rate, Gaiscioch is stuck in the Dark Realm for now … and that will give us some time to recoup this loss …” “Yes, no doubt, but, my Queen, what of Desmond? His scent stopped just outside the shop. He simply would not just vanish in the middle of his investigation. He and I worked very closely even before we went to Dublin, and I am convinced something is terribly wrong. I beg of you to let me use the ‘Balor’s Eye’ to locate him.” The queen circled her high-backed chair, and then she circled poor Aida. I watched as I put my thoughts together. I was surprised when she sat. I watched her as she adjusted her sandals at her delicate feet. I saw Aida out of the corner of my eye; she appeared perfectly miserable. All at once the queen brought her eyes up to meet Aida’s variegated shades of blues. The queen’s tone was grave. “Aida, I must ask you squarely. Are you playing one of your games?” “I would not do such a thing …” She lowered her gaze, and then offered, “especially now when so much depends on the success of our mission.” Aida frowned, and it was obvious she thought the queen understood that she had learned her lesson. “Allow me to remind you that it was not so very long ago when you did use one of your tricks to divert me while you entered my private chambers. At that time you said it was only to ‘show me’ how easily it could be done. I did not believe you then, although it did give me the opportunity to rethink my philosophy for allowing my chambers to be accessible to a handful of my favorites.” She eyed my friend, with one brow and her delicate chin well up. The queen could see that Aida was about to interrupt and put up her hand to stop her. “I have heard your ‘All for love’ excuses many times in the past for many different offenses, so let us not get into it now. I am fully aware that you are …” The queen pulled a face. “ … presently ‘infatuated’ with Desmond Lang. For all I know, he has gone off without you and you are in a jealous fit and merely coming to me in an attempt to find him.” Aida looked shocked. I know I was shocked. For all her faults, Aida is loyal to the queen and fully aware that we are at war with the Unseelies. I waited to see how she would react. “My Queen … I would not fabricate such a tale for so demeaning a purpose. I know I was foolish in the past. I know you were angry when I lingered over Bantry more than was seemly, but I am not now being foolish or prevaricating. Did I not suffer your punishments enough to learn by them? Did I not spell Willow Lang’s resume and put it in place for Shayne Bantry to choose even though at that time I was only just getting over the throes of my infatuation with the big, handsome human?” She cleared her throat, and her face was as grim as I know she felt. “I have learned much and know what is important. I know how serious this is. I know that Gaiscioch is not above killing Seelie Fae to obtain what he wants.” She had pyramided her hands, and they were shaking against her body. “I am fully aware that Gais already killed two of our trackers when they

managed to find him in the Dark Realm—our trackers, his own Seelie kind! I am committed to his downfall. I know he has Unseelie agents … even human agents in Ireland searching out the ‘Weapons of Death’ that Desmond Lang and I have been so desperately trying to find before he discovers them. Desmond, my Queen, is missing, and I entreat you to help me in this.” “Very well,” the queen said quietly. She studied Aida for a drawn out moment. I knew she wanted to be certain that Aida was not faking Desmond’s disappearance. With merely a flick of her wrist she called for the Eye of Balor, and it immediately appeared on the table at her knees. A softly spoken command, and silver dust encircled the crystal’s shaded eye. The eye opened its lid and softly whispered Queen Aaibhe’s name, a name we had not heard used in eons. The eye had recognized her as the true leader of the Fae. Had any other opened the eye, it would have screeched in defiance. I hadn’t said a word. It did not seem appropriate for me to do so, but I did have several opinions on what had transpired. I decided to wait until I was alone with Aida before I expressed those opinions. In our ancient language Queen Aaibhe requested that Desmond Lang’s whereabouts be exhibited. She had to repeat her command, and I felt a wave of unease when the Eye turned black. What it finally showed us made the queen frown darkly. We all knew immediately that something out of the ordinary was at work here. Beside her Aida was calling out Desmond’s name and wringing her delicate fingers. The image the Eye of Balor displayed was that of Desmond Lang, Willow’s father, but he was encased in a gold box of arcane dark magic. Nothing more could be detected. The queen prodded the Eye for more, but although it whispered her name as the only true and viable leader of the Fae, it showed her nothing more of her missing Corinthian. The queen sucked in a long drag of air. “What magic is this?” I had to wonder about that as well and I don’t know what she answered herself because she immediately dismissed us. *** I left the two players (it was obvious they were nothing more than shallow womanizers) in the library and reached my room before I actually felt myself take a long and needed breath. Oh Willow, maybe it’s time to fly home? All I wanted to do was hide—I was so ready to hide! This was getting to be too much for me. In spite of my looks, I am reticent about flirting and managing hunks—never had any of this caliber to deal with, you see. An improbable wallflower, but there you are— wallflower! This was all so new to me, and, yes, it was also undeniably thrilling. However, I could hear my dad as he lectured me: Think—use wisdom, child. Slowly— take it slowly. I meant to crawl through this maze, and if I bumped into anything that looked like it was going to flay me alive—then sorry, Dad, it would be time to run! And that was another thing—just where was my father? I shrugged and wondered if he was off in paradise with a ‘new love?’ It could be, I told myself and shrugged it off. What I needed to do was spread my wings! Huh—where did that come from? There would be no spreading of wings with those two playboys. They would eat me up and spit me out, and weren’t they just like Valtye? I closed the door at my back, and released a long sigh only to catch my breath in my throat again. This had to stop or I was going to collapse of a massive stroke!

The prince of Dagda was in human clothes (Breslyn wears nothing but the most expensive, stylish, and best made clothes), and this time he was dressed in a Lauren black silk, long-sleeved T and Lauren faded jeans. Eye-opener— Had he been waiting for me? Apparently—I didn’t know Fae princes waited for humans? Just when I thought I was finally safe and alone in my bedroom … He took two strides to me and managed to envelop me within his arms. What was happening to me? This all had to stop or I would be irretrievably changed—maybe even more damaged than I already was? I had gone from having not one single male (pretty or ugly) in my life to suddenly three eye-popping, smoking hotties! But let us not forget that I did not think that any of these seductive male things had my best interest worked out in their thoughts, forget about their hearts. Breslyn’s sensuous mouth parted my lips. His tongue gently called on mine to meet his, and with a will all of its own, that’s just what my traitorous tongue did. I have had a few kisses in my time, but kisses from the prince of Dagda … holy shit, let me tell you something—even my memory of Valtye’s kiss didn’t top this. Breslyn’s kiss made me forget that what he offered was a temporary, physical thing. His kiss made me want that physical thing however I had to get it, whatever I had to promise in return—. My knees, however, gave way, but it didn’t matter, because he was already scooping me up and carrying me to my bed. Hey, I told myself—I am twenty-three, single, and this would be a hell of an introduction to sex at its best. Bed-Breslyn—good idea, don’t you think? He eased me down on the velvet, and satin quilt, but his tongue was still working that bewitching spell on my senses. All at once and for no good reason that I could fathom, I realized where I was, what he was doing, what I was doing, and wham, I put out my hand and said with a voice that was raspy and hoarse, “Breslyn, Prince of Dagda.” That was all I managed to say, and under the circumstances, that was a great deal. He chuckled. “So I am … now where were we?” “No … no …” I said and scrambled away. “Not so fast, buddy.” He laughed again and as he lay bent on one elbow and patted a place beside him, said, “At least come back sit near me …” I backed away from the bed. He seemed too close; I was too tempted. I wondered if I should run from the room. “When you last left me …” I started to say. He cut me off. “Precisely.” He was up and standing over me as he traced a strong finger over my lips. “When I last left you I was about to kiss you again and again—I only meant to pick up where we left off.” He put his lips near my ear, and I closed my eyes. His vanilla and pine scent filled my senses. His powerful body against mine made me want to cave in and just have a good time. Didn’t I deserve a good time? What was stopping me? He whispered softly in my ear, “Shee Willow … I will never hurt you …” How did he know I had been hurt? The question must have shown itself on my face as he leaned back his head and looked at me. “Yes, it shows …” he said as though he were reading my mind. I knew, however, that he couldn’t do that. Fae have natural shields against such intrusions, and that thought reminded me, once again, how Fae I really am. I briskly pulled away, wagged a finger, and grimaced at him. I wanted to shrug off the

subject. After all, my hurts were that of a teen, and I wasn’t a teen any longer. I knew better than to let anyone hurt me anymore. “Do you think it shows? Well, maybe you are overstepping. Trust does not come easy to me, and you just proved yourself untrustworthy, fella.” I said these last words with something of a smile and a partial tease. “I don’t kiss boys that kiss and run,” I added, again to lighten the moment. The fact was that I really didn’t want him to think that because I melted into his arms I was going to be an easy target. I really liked the prince of Dagda. I liked him too much for my own good. However, I didn’t want to get caught up with and in the clutches of a Fae … even a royal Fae prince to die for. This one, however, I knew was different. Did I want to chance my heart to a Fae? Did I? No. Fae were far too easy and casual about sex and love. “Ah, Shee Willow … I did not mean to kiss and run. Women should not be treated like that. I would love and honor the woman under my protection.” He flicked my nose as though I were a child. “And I know …” “You know what?” “That you haven’t had too much experience in that department with anyone. I would not take advantage of the lovely woman hidden inside the innocent girl.” A soft curve had moved his sensuous lips, and his silver eyes softened, warmed, and invited me to know him better. There, heat in my cheeks. Were they red? Was I blushing like a schoolgirl again? I changed the subject. “Just before you left me, you told me about this problem with Gaiscioch the traitor. Finish what you started. What am I expected to do for the queen?” “Shee Willow, you are one of the most powerful keys to our dilemma. A great deal rests with your skills and your unique qualities. You will witness more because of who and what you are. When we walk amongst the humans we miss many miniscule nuances that sometimes mean so much. You would not do so. You understand them.” I studied his ancient eyes for a long moment and frowned. Just what was I being drawn into? Did my father know that I was being asked to help the Fae in this matter? I didn’t think my father knew. What exactly was I expected to do about a powerful Fae traitor and the dark Unseelie queen, for goodness sake? Until I landed in Ireland, I hadn’t even seen an Unseelie … “What has understanding humans got to do with all of this?” I finally asked as I tried to make sense of what I was being told. “Gaiscioch has bought humans … humans who will betray their own kind. You are in a unique position to observe and then report your findings to us—actually to me.” He smiled broadly on these last words. “Well, I still don’t have a clue what it is you think I can really do other than be a spy, and how can I do that out here in the country?” I should have asked him about my dad, but I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to identify myself as the ten-year-old girl he had been kind to thirteen years (my years) ago. It was obvious he had not focused on my last name. It was true the Fae saw so much all at once, all around, in different dimensions, that the obscure was often overlooked. And, no, I just didn’t want to mention my dad just yet. I was having soooo much fun, and all that might end when he realized who I was. Besides, my dad had his own way of finding me, and I expected him to shift in any day now and ask me what I was doing in Ireland. However, on this point I was a little bit torn. It had been two weeks since I heard from my father, and that was not like him at all.

Time moved differently in Tir, but even so, my dad was very hands-on and made a point of keeping up with me—especially lately. You see a month ago he begged me to take the elixir of immortality. He said I needed to take the brew immediately. But, what if I take it and then find the perfect human who actually accepts what I am? He will die, and I won’t. I thought I would just hang out for a while and leave the elixir for a later decision. There was also the fact that sometimes the elixir has ‘side affects’ on humans. The Fae cannot anticipate what consequence there will be. Each individual that consumes it could have a very different reaction to the finer points of immortality, or none at all. My dad said that he didn’t believe that will even be a factor in my case because of the Fae in me. It was complex, and when it comes to complex … I am a procrastinator. Breslyn, Prince of Dagda, smiled as he thought about my question and then took my hand to his lips. “We hope you will agree to do two very important things—things only you, in your immediate surroundings can do.” “What? Get to it, Breslyn.” “We want you to investigate Shayne Bantry.” He put up his hand and stopped me as he continued to tell me more about Gaiscioch, and then he explained how the Seelie Fae cannot locate or sense their own Relics … but I could. When he was done, I felt a swelling within me that I had never really felt before. Life for me had been a precarious ledge—a limbo terrace where I tottered between two worlds. I didn’t fit in the Fae world because they knew what I was. I only fit in with humans because they hadn’t a clue that I was not … all human. When it all came to a head and I chose—I chose the human world, simply because there, I could hide who I really was. Now I was being asked to help both worlds, and a royal Fae was doing the asking. It made me feel better about the Fae than I had felt in a very long time. It made me feel great about myself, and I suppose in that moment I committed totally to the queen, and the prince of Dagda, wherever that road might take me. The prince laid it all out for me, and he didn’t mince words. It would appear that this traitor, whom I must tell you is beyond despicable, this Gaiscioch was not above killing his own kind. Now, you say, well, all bad guys (humans) do that without compunction. It is different for a Fae. Fae do not kill their own kind. They even find it repugnant when they have to kill Unseelie. However, Gaiscioch was a Seelie Fae with an obsession, and he meant to fulfill what he believed was his destiny—to rule all Fae, Seelie, and Unseelie alike, and destroy humans. Gaiscioch managed to achieve a network within the human realm. That network (of humans) had discovered and obtained a Seelie Hallow long forgotten by the Fae. The Sacred Hallow had originated from a time when there were many weapons that had been born from Danu and were able to kill Fae. These weapons were used in the final war on Danu, and again here in the Human world when the Fae fought the three Wars. Breslyn had been very grim when he told me, “It is a sad day that a Seelie Fae has brought this on us. We can only suppose that archeologists had discovered this Relic and other weapons like it. No doubt these scientists thought the Relics were ancient Druid Relics from the Iron Age. The one that Gais has in his possession was known as the ‘Mor Dagger’, and he regrettably used it against us …”

I saw the prince’s frustration as he spoke and told me, “Our trackers … the queen’s brave royal trackers, ventured into the Dark Realm to bring him to justice. He stood with his Unseelie army, and with this weapon two worthy Fae trackers were slain.” The prince was very clear about what he expected of me. He also made it super clear that I had to polish the Fae qualities I already possessed. Then with a stroke of his finger along my lips he said softly and with that beautiful accent that came from our ancient Danu language, “Be careful and do not trust anyone, anywhere, Shee Willow.” “Oh, you don’t have to worry on that score. I don’t trust anyone, anywhere … ever.” I smiled flirtatiously at him. “ … except perhaps you … just … a little …” I showed him how little with my thumb and forefinger. He laughed and brushed my lips with his own. “Apparently there is a problem awaiting me at the palace. I must go …” I raised my brow. He laughed and answered, “Aye … I am being paged—till later, my lovely Shee Willow.” He shifted off and left me alone with my thoughts. There was a split second when I almost called after him … There were still so many questions popping into my head, like why was I supposed to watch the man I was presently working for? It didn’t make any sense. And yet, did it? I knew from my eavesdropping that Bantry despised the Fae. I knew that he knew about our Fae Relics and was searching for one in particular. Was he doing it for Gaiscioch, or for some other reason? Was Shayne Bantry one of the ‘bad guys’? Well … he could be. There was darkness about him that glittered at the edge of his soul, but was that darkness evil? I wondered, yet I hadn’t heard or seen anything to make me believe he would sell out his world to a Dark Fae. Just the opposite—right? No. He wasn’t one of Gaiscioch’s recruits. He couldn’t be. I don’t know why, but I sure didn’t want to think so. Power? Gais could have offered Shayne Bantry power. That stopped me. Power was something all men seemed to never have enough of. Some need it more than others do. Was Bantry one of those men? My gut said no, my mind said maybe. There was something else too, not quite as important, but nevertheless it worked through my mind. It was something called … now let me see—what was it called—ah, downright, absolute, and complete lust! I was very attracted to Shayne Bantry. I admitted this to myself. Would that attraction cloud my judgment? Wait! That nuisance inner voice of mine interrupted. There are dangerous times ahead. You have to concentrate on that, not on anything else. You need a ‘keeper’. So I asked myself, were there any keepers around me now? No—not the prince and not either of the playboys downstairs. I had to maintain a low profile, I told myself grimly. My heart broke out and asked for a little fun. I ignored it. I said, “Never mind that now.” Little ol’ meek Willow Lang had the world to save … no, correction, two worlds. Yeah, right! However, if I was going to look around and spy, I was going to have to get to town and scope out the area on my own. I sucked in my bottom lip as I often do when I am thinking hard. My brain started to hurt. Would Bantry allow me to borrow a vehicle? Tomorrow was Saturday. Heck … I was

entitled to do my own thing on my time off, which we hadn’t really discussed yet, but I figured I could pretty much have Saturday and Sunday off. A wayward image of Shayne Bantry came to mind, and all at once Robby the Robot started flinging his arms all around himself and crying ‘Danger! Danger!’ The voice in my heart (which always sounded like my mom’s voice) took over, and said as it always did when I was lost, You will know when it is right, so hold out for that and you can’t go wrong, baby girl.

~ Seven ~ “ETE …” THE QUEEN said my name sharply, as I followed Aida out of the room. I turned and hurried to her side. She still had Balor’s Eye in place, which surprised me. “Look.” I did and gasped as I did. It was Gaiscioch. The queen was powerful, but I had not realized she would be able to summon a vision within the Dark Realm. No other could manage such a feat. As her cousin, I am lucky enough to carry her bloodline in my veins … but my blood is not as pure as the queen’s. “He hates his prison of fog and ice. See him—he is frustrated.” The queen said thoughtfully, “At least, we are keeping him at bay … but, Ete, I fear it will not be for long.” “How can he survive in a world of shadows and venomous abominations?” I shook my head. “Look at all he has given up … for what—for her?” I referred to the lovely dark Queen Morrigu. The rumor had always circulated that she had once been a Seelie Fae that followed the king into the realm he created when he banished himself. The queen smiled and touched my cheek. “No, Ete … not for her, for power. She is a means to an end. Look at him … he can scarcely bear to touch her …” “But … she is beautiful.” “It is not what he is after,” the queen answered on a frown and then put her finger to her lips as she contemplated the scene in the orb. Gaiscioch had started speaking. “Morrigu …” Gais said softly, “ … very soon, humans will be our slaves, and Aaibhe will bend to our will.” “Humans are puny beings. Once we get our army out there—we will have them under control within hours … hours, my darling.” “Yes, and then we will rebuild their world to suit us …” “I visited the portal only an hour ago—it grows and pulses with life.” “We have only to set it in place—and that is our problem.” “One I am certain you will solve in the very near future.” “Oh indeed, Morrigu, and once I have the blood—that very special blood from a royal—we can get the ancient glass to open the portal to the human world …” “Good … now come back to bed,” Morrigu whispered. Queen Aaibhe looked at me and put her hand gently over the Balor’s eye, allowing it to sleep once more. “Would that I could watch the villain continuously,” she said softly, “but the Balor’s Eye cannot look into the Dark World without consequences to itself.” “What we have just heard is ominous, my Queen—the blood of a royal? What can he mean? What was he talking about?” “He means to capture and kill one of us. He seems to think royal Seelie blood will help him in some manner to open the flood gates …” ***

I may be Squire of Bantry, but my home at the moment seems to be closing in on me from all sides. I have to get out of here. I made up my mind. What I needed was a change of scenery and company. I couldn’t sit across a dinner table from the pretty Willow without making a move on her … I couldn’t seem to get her off my mind. There is a cure for that, the company of another pretty woman. Damn straight. I am going to town tonight and end this feeling. To that end I showered hurriedly and pulled on a black light silk shirt. I tucked it into my black jeans, slipped into my silver-buckled boots, and took a look in the mirror. I liked black, and besides it was how I felt now—all the time. I felt black inside; I felt like there was a dark hole that was about to suck me in and never let me out. At any rate, here was the ticket—a change of venue. It was more than Willow’s absolutely captivating beauty that kept me staring at her even when I knew I should look away. It was something about her smile, about that little bit of shyness that kept her from opening up. I wanted to open her up—I wanted those violet eyes looking up at me with passion … hell! I had to get out of here, and then I was thinking about her innocence. She seemed so untouched, and yet contrarily she radiated carnal sex … She was too bright, too damn intriguing … and it was driving me mad. I have had my share—and selection—of a great number of lovely women. I am not bragging—I know that the kind of money I have at my disposal attracts exceptional beauty. It is just a fact. The point being that I have been with some real stunners, but this one worked my brain into pudding. This one drove my blood to fever pitch; this one kept my dick in the ‘on’ position, and made me want to lay her down … Not going there. I didn’t know what it was about her, but it had worked me into a mindless frenzy. Not getting involved with her. The truth—I couldn’t get involved … I could no longer have what normal men took for granted. It wasn’t in the cards, I suppose—if you believe in fate, and I did … perhaps still do—for me to ever marry and raise children. However, knowing that didn’t stop me from thinking about her. I couldn’t get her off my mind, and that had been my trouble from the first moment I saw her. In simple language, I was fucked up! When I thought about her, I thought she was the kind of woman I … could … damn— any man could lose himself inside. A man could get wrapped up in her mind, in her body, in her soul and never again see the world the way he used to view it … and that sort of feeling, that sort of man wasn’t me, not any longer. I didn’t even have a choice. I was not the man I had been, and this world had turned dark for me. I had been looking for a way out of my predicament for months on end, but thus far … all I managed to find was a slim chance, a slight hope, and that might just be nothing more than a dream. The dark horizon had become my future. My world and her world were noncompatible … Once upon a time, I lived in the light. Once upon a time I would have gone out of my way to catch her eye, perhaps even take her heart for my own. When I saw her I knew on the spot that she would have been someone I would have wanted to explore. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, less than a year ago— before … but, there was no sense dwelling on things I couldn’t immediately change. I stared at Willow Lang and knew I hadn’t the right. I had no right thinking about

Willow Lang—So damn it to bloody hell, I just won’t. I tucked my thin wallet into my back pocket and headed downstairs. The night promised a cool breeze, so I went by the library to pick up my tan leather blazer, which I had left there earlier in the afternoon. Aye … I heard her in the library, moving about, and damnation, I still walked to the door. I stood, and damn, I talked myself into going for my blasted blazer! Did I have other suitable jackets? Yes. But I wanted that one, and I was not going to be afraid in my own home to just go and get the damn thing! My house—my library—why should I hesitate to go in and get my jacket? I’m not afraid of a wee lass, I told myself. I can’t explain what made me do such a stupid thing as have her stay in my house. I should have put her up in the guesthouse. That was my first mistake. Well, I could move into the guesthouse for the time being. Hell, no! This was my damn house. By the time I entered the library I knew I was frowning. I felt it. I wasn’t going to even look at her. I meant to just call out ‘good evening’ and be on my way. The words got stuck in my throat because I could see her out of the corner of my eye, and then I made the mistake of looking right at her. She had bent over the fireplace, and she was fiddling with a poker as she pushed the logs and managed to stoke up the fire nicely. She wore a little black silky skirt that fit and swayed with her hip action as she poked the fire, and all I could do was (like a dog) stare at her ass … Damn, but that perfect little butt stopped me in my tracks, and I couldn’t stop myself as I watched and she wiggled. I imagined that I was pressing my dick up against … and then she straightened up, looked round, and saw me and smiled. Holy shit, now I am totally fucked! Those eyes—that smile. She had on this tight little soft, gray, silky thing that hardly reached her waist, and it fitted her to perfection. In fact, the size and the shape of her amazing tits—with those pert nipples—called my name. Her wheat-colored hair cascaded all around her heart-shaped, enticing face, and those violet eyes made my breathing come in clipped spurts. “Hi,” was all she said, but her smile nearly knocked me over. “Look what Bridget fixed to go with our wine.” She continued, unconscious of her effect on me, “I didn’t think I was hungry until I saw this tray.” She had turned me into a blithering fool with one word, a simple word really, ‘hi’, and all I could think to say was, “Ah …” She kept on chattering happily, unaware of my consternation. “And this wine … is one of my favorites.” She held up the bottle for inspection and announced, “I love Bola Valpolicella. It isn’t expensive, but it is delicious and you have cases and cases of it, Bridget told me.” Good manners demanded I join in on the conversation at this juncture. I cleared my throat and made an attempt. “Yes … the wine … I ah … discovered it some years ago when I traveled through Italy.” Now was my chance. I could wish her a pleasant evening and be on my way. Time to say good night, I told myself. That’s right. I should leave her to her wine and delicious-looking appetizers. It was what I should do. My mind screamed, Leave, leave— go. My eyes strayed to the tray of food. Damn, but I was hungry. Maybe I should have just one bite … just a bit of wine?

I could do that. Yet, I found it difficult to move. I was fixated on the way she glided and swayed as she approached with the tray. I made a feeble attempt to reach for my jacket. She was suddenly in front of me, only inches away from me—a wee bonnie lass. She smiled and bubbled and plopped something on a cracker and shoved it into my mouth. “There …” she said as she waited for my reaction, “ … isn’t that tasty and amazing? So good, and I am so famished, I think I could eat the whole tray.” It actually was tasty and in spite of all my good intentions to avoid this very situation, I lingered and could not stop myself from smiling. She smiled back and offered me a glass of the wine, which was in fact one of my favorites. What the hell was I doing? I have always been a man of strong will. I had set up a set of rules for Willow Lang and myself, and I was once again breaking through that set and blowing off the rules. I had done so on our first night together when I made her tea and walked her to her room. I was already in her room when I realized how far off I had strayed from my first covenant. The wine—now, how did that happen? With all the choices she could have made, she had chosen this wine … one of my favorite wines? Like I said, she had turned me into a fool with those violet eyes. They welcomed me with their merry warmth. Somehow I reached for the glass of wine. I decided to have one glass of wine and off I would go. Just one glass of wine … damn, what a small waist she had. Her skirt sat low on her hips, and as she reached for something, her belly button peeked out at me. I tensed. I couldn’t stop myself from taking the trail up to her beautiful breasts and those tantalizing nipples. I wanted to lick them, kiss them … “Well, I am really pleased with what I have done already. Have you had a look?” she said, beaming happily. “A look—what? Oh, the paintings. No, actually I rather thought you might want me to stay away until you were done.” “No—not at all.” She hesitated then tentatively added, “Squire … I thought I might go into town tomorrow and wondered if there was some kind of old vehicle I could use?” “Of course, didn’t Daniel tell you? There is a jeep that I rarely use these days, an old Wrangler. I had the keys for it put in your room.” I know I was frowning again as I distinctly remembered my conversation with Daniel. Then I smiled to myself. Danny boy had given me some back talk on the subject, saying that he would be happy to drive the ‘young lady’ into town whenever she needed. Daniel took care of all my cars and a great deal of the estate’s daily maintenance as well. He didn’t think much of female drivers and less of Americans attempting to drive on Irish roads. I explained this to her and then laughed good-naturedly and said things like how thoughtful and kind I was. I wasn’t either of those things—thoughtful, or kind. I didn’t want to be. That wasn’t the reason I wanted her provided with a vehicle. I wanted her to be independent. I wanted her to go about her business … so that I could go about mine. I wanted to be unconnected to her daily activities. I downed my wine. What the hell was I still doing here with her? I asked her about her parents. And why by all the saints did I do that? I needed to leave, not to get a recital on her family history. Was someone else in charge of my brain? I reached for the wine bottle

and poured another glass. She spoke softly at first, telling me she had lost her mum when she was ten and that her father was a terrific guy. A musician of sorts, she said, and always on the move. Desmond Lang? Hmmm … never really heard of him, but what did I know about American singers? And of course, then she asked me about my family. That was my fault; I had opened the door. I was on my third glass of wine by then. I noticed she was only sipping her second. Right, now we were exchanging ‘family histories’. Didn’t want to do that—and when did I ever do that with anyone? Never! “Right,” I answered her immediately. “They were tops, both of them. They loved each other and they doted on me. And then just like that, they were gone. But, you learned too early what that was like—losing your mother. At least I was nineteen when I lost them.” “Oh,” she exclaimed, and a sad expression took over her eyes. She reached for my hand, and I couldn’t stop myself—I held her tiny delicate fingers as she said, “I am so sorry.” She squeezed my fingers. I put hers to my lips. “That was more than ten years ago.” I shrugged it off. I never liked thinking about it. “I am a big boy.” I was seated at a right angle to her. She was on the big leather sofa, and I was in the big leather chair. It was a good thing. If I had been on the sofa, I’d have had her in my arms. My tongue would be down her throat, and my hands …? Stop! I closed my eyes. She thought it was because I was remembering a sad time, and she quickly changed the subject. “So then … how do I get to town from here?” I am a damn stupid fool. Do you know what the devil I said? I know what I said, but I can’t for the life of me tell you why. I said, “Come on … get your jacket and I’ll show you.” “What?” “We’ll have dinner in town.” “But … but … Bridget’s dinner …?” “Will keep till tomorrow—up with you.” She laughed. “Okay. All right.” Ah, such a bonnie wee lass—my mind jumbled over this thought. I went over to the cabinet where I kept the extra keys to all my vehicles and took up the spare keys to the jeep. I flipped them to her. “Here—might as well start learning how to drive on the correct side of the road.” The words were out, and that voice in my head shouted, Bloody hell … bloody fool! Your damn dick is leading you about! *** I am considered petite for a Fae. I had to stand on my toes to give Aida a real, solid hug. I could see that she felt blue. “You know, Aida, that I will help you in any way that I possibly can.” Was she listening? I didn’t think she was listening. Usually Aida’s thoughts flew, but now and then she could be single-minded. She flicked her finger and produced a large map of Dublin. “Ete, Ete … do one of your wonderful locator spells.” “Ah, for Desmond.” She nodded her head of dark blonde curls vigorously, “Yes, yes, for Desmond.” “Aida … if the Eye of Balor couldn’t locate him, my locator spell won’t help.” Aida chewed this over for a moment and then grabbed my shoulders. “That is right, but, Ete, you can find the Unseelie thing that took our Relic. Desmond didn’t just

vanish—the Unseelie thing must have had something to do with it.” I studied her for a moment, and although she and her brother are so different in so many ways, I saw something of him in her at that moment. I touched her face. “My locator spell will not be able to pinpoint a specific Unseelie without my having its particular scent, but let’s see what we can do.” “I have this!” Aida exclaimed, holding up a small piece of cloth. “Nuad brought it to Breslyn. It came off an Unseelie they had been tracking in Dublin.” “Aida! We cannot take this—you must put it back.” I was shocked. Breslyn would be furious to know that Aida had pilfered this piece of evidence. “So I shall—as soon as you do a locator—” “Aida, love, we don’t know that this came from the same Unseelie.” “It did. I caught the scent of him in the shop, and this has the same awful aroma,” Aida answered on a hushed note. “Quick, Ete …” I studied the fabric for a long moment. Aida was my closest and dearest friend. She has always been a bit of a flake when it comes to love. She was forever throwing herself into a relationship and did things without considering consequences. However, I adore her and wanted to help. I had to ask, “Is it different this time, Aida? Have you felt ‘forever’ when you looked at Desmond? Did he give you that sort of response when he was with you?” “Yes, Ete, so different … before, I always thought about what I wanted, what I needed. With Desmond, he comes first for me. I think of him … just him without regard to myself. I knew at once, and that feeling grew. This was not anything I had ever felt before.” She sighed and gave me a grave look. “Ete … don’t you feel the time has come to give it up on Breslyn and take a lover?” I laughed. “Time everlasting—yes, it is time to take a lover and that lover will be Breslyn. I don’t want variety—although that is a good thing—I just want one mate for all time. I want your brother.” “My brother,” Aida said with a sigh, “is determined otherwise. I wish he would wake up and see you. Do you feel forever when you look at Breslyn?” “I do. I feel it so strongly that no other would do for me. My feelings for him are allconsuming and have been from the moment I really looked at him. Aida, I fell in love with Breslyn when I was still too young to do so. Years ago, I watched him and decided he was meant for me. Mother always said I was a late bloomer. It was true. The few times I saw your brother when you and I were growing up, I always thought him special—but this … burning feeling can’t be matched.” I sighed over the fact. “It started when we sat on the council together, and oh, Aida, I fell so hard, so fast.” “Why does he resist you?” “I believe he thinks I am too young, and he is not ready to commit to forever. He has never done so in all his years, so he must certainly be set against that sort of commitment. I believe it is part of the reason he dallies with human women. Their lives are so short …” It was a problem I had contemplated a great deal recently. “Never mind that now. Here, put your hands … like so, on this corner of the map.” Aida complied quickly, and I whispered the ancient Danu words as she sprinkled a handful of her own brand of gold dust over the map. A moment later there were over twenty different stars emanating a glow on different sections of the Dublin map. “The abomination has been everywhere … how will we pin him down to his most

recent visit …?” Aida wailed. “The strongest glow is here.” “What do we do?” “First, return that piece of evidence to wherever Breslyn had it stored!” It was gone, and Aida beamed. “Done. What next?” “Human Glamour, my sweet pea …” “Why?” “Because, Aida, we are off for Dublin to investigate Desmond’s disappearance, and if we are to ask about, we can’t be invisible. We must look and act like humans.” “Oh, fun, I do so like human clothes … so raw and sexy,” Aida said excitedly as she eyed herself in the tall mirror. She always makes me laugh. All at once, and before I could caution her, she grabbed my hand and shifted us … and it was not to Dublin.

~ Eight ~ WHEW! WHAT A NIGHT. Was it all just a dream? Had I really dined with Shayne Bantry? Had it all been real? I dropped my clothes and left them where they fell, then I climbed into bed, pulled the covers all around, and put out the lamp beside my bed. I was still trembling with excitement. Shayne Bantry had done that to me. Earlier that evening, I turned to find him standing behind me in the library. I was determined to be all grown up and at ease with him. That’s right, I told myself. You are an accomplished artist here to do a job. He is your boss, and although he is a hunk, you will behave as though he is just a regular guy—besides, you need to borrow a car. He wasn’t though—a regular guy. He was in fact, a mysterious stranger, someone the prince had asked me to watch. He hates the Fae. He needed a Fae Relic. Oh, but I had a big plate of questions in front of me. What was his story? What made him tick? Why did the prince think he needed watching? Why—why? I don’t know why. All the prince had said was that I was not here by chance, and that the Fae queen was interested in Bantry’s behavior. The ‘why’ was not answered by the prince, and although I had racked my brain for a possible answer, none came to mind. So, what was I to think? As to thinking, apparently I was not quite capable of clear thought when I am near Shayne Bantry. When his hand brushed against mine … my body took over. No brain in my head. Shivers down my spine! I got some insight when he spoke about his parents; however briefly, it showed me another side of this complicated, self-controlled man. There was so very much that made him tick. There was so very much that was going on in his mind, so many thoughts flitted right there in his green eyes, but I couldn’t get a read on them. And when he took my arm and led me into the pub later that evening, I felt the heat rush into my body. He twirled a toothpick between his lips, and I slipped into a coma where I imagined those lips, those sensuous lips were on mine! I had to stop this. It would get me absolutely nowhere good. I had to sleep and get up in the morning with everything back in its place. Right, in the morning, but for now, it wouldn’t hurt to recall the evening, just a little. Like how many people greeted him with sincere friendship? Like the quiet booth he deposited me into, and then instead of sitting across from me, he sat right next to me and made me nearly splutter with sudden shyness. It felt like everyone else faded into another room. There was a long period of time when I couldn’t remember how to breathe, let alone speak. I couldn’t remember what I was, who I had been, what I was doing there with him. He whispered something into my ear, and his warm breath made me quake. I don’t know what the frig he said—something about the music. It didn’t matter what he was saying. What mattered was that he was saying it and I was totally captivated and trying so damn hard not to show it.

The music was wonderful. A one-man band sang, played the guitar, and then switched to the keyboard. The music surrounded us and pulled us together. How was I going to keep things in perspective? How was I going to be able to remember that my job was to paint for this man, spy on this man, and not succumb to this man? Okay, all right. I would not succumb—not succumbing here—I was only mildly wondering what it would be like to be in his arms and feel his tongue teaching mine just what to do. No succumbing though—not at all. On this thought I finally fell asleep. And Shayne Bantry was there. Where, you ask? In my dream? In the room? Good questions—because he was naked to his waist. He wore black boxer shorts. His hair fell in thick layered black waves to his neckline. His green eyes were dark with purpose, and his purpose was centered on … me. I felt it. I knew it. He stood at the head of my bed and stared down at me with a look that made me wait with anticipation. I didn’t want to say a word in case it dispelled the moment. I scanned him from his head to his black boxer shorts … There were tattoos on his tight, hard belly. They were darkly woven in an intricate design of ancient parallel lines and Celtic knots. I knew at once they had to do with that dark, that arcane and oh so dangerous black magic. He came closer. He bent over me. I felt his breath on my ear … down my neck—was this real? “Huh!” I awoke with a start and stared through the black stillness of my room. He wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t there. It was a dream. Yes, but I knew it was more than a dream. I knew this because, well, remember, I am not only human. I am Fae, and the Fae in me knows when magic has been at work. The problem was this: yes, I knew magic had caused my vivid illusion. Fae are masters of illusion. However, was it his magic … or mine? *** Breakfast was a cup of coffee—strong coffee. After that dream, I needed a clear head. Bridget was off on Saturdays and Sundays, so I made it myself, drank it down, pulled on a light navy sweater against the morning’s coolness, and hurried outside. Bouncer and Buck joyously greeted me, and I was happy for their company. I only hoped that I could escape without notice. What was my rush? Good question. Here was the thing: I didn’t want to bump into him, into Shayne Bantry. No. No. No bumping, not this morning … not just yet. I admit I was being a coward. Hadn’t thought it all out yet. I just knew I felt off kilter and needed some time to sort it out. The fresh air would clear my mind. Oh, but it was a glorious morning. The air was crisp and filled my senses. The mountains rose up to a sky that was cloudless and enchantingly blue. The trails at Bantry were wonderfully shaded with trees that had been around for ages. I thought about galloping a horse down the wide trails to the open field. I walked for more than an hour and tried a shortcut through the west woods. It brought me up to a small thatched-roof cottage. I was still on Bantry land, but I knew it was not the guesthouse. This was Roland’s cottage. His car (an old but lovely gray Mercedes) was in his driveway. He was at home. I was close to his front walk, and I worried that if I turned and moved off and he might see the movement and come out. Should I sneak off? Better to just go right up to the door and say good morning and then be on my way. I did just that, but as I reached for his door-

knocker I heard a strange sound and stopped. Fae have wonderful hearing, and mine kicked in. I didn’t want to bother him if he was entertaining. I glanced through the large, leadpaned window that flanked the door. A lacey curtain prohibited a clear view, but even so, there was no mistaking what I saw. Roland Omren was naked to the waist and on his knees. His torso was covered in tattooed runes of various shapes and sizes. His hands and muscular arms were stretched out on either side of him as though he were praying to the heavens. He wasn’t though. I knew that because he was situated in the center of a cream-colored blanket, and all around him were the markings used in black magic. Not a pentagon, but something that was just as dark, something just as dangerous. I had learned about this spell when I was a child. It was something all Fae children are taught. Time for me to get the heck away. Should I shift? Maybe it was time to do the Fae thing and shift. I started to look over my shoulder, just to make certain I was not being observed, when I noticed something glinting in Roland’s hand. He was holding a knife. He sliced it across his palm and then dripped his blood onto the painted blanket. He was chanting in low grunts. Again, this was different—this time he was invoking gypsy law. He was calling on his ancestors. I forgot about shifting. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I felt like I was frozen in place. Curiosity had me by the throat. “I won’t be Bantry’s lap dog.” Roland growled in Romany, “I call on you, spirit of the old ones, for help.” “Omren, why have you disturbed our rest?” A disembodied voice resonated within the confines of his sitting room. Okay—really time to leave. I managed to back up one step; however, I still couldn’t break the need to know that held me in place. “There is a war coming …” Roland answered the voice. “I need my ancestors to help me prosper …” “It is written, the Unseelie will attack.” The voice was hushed. “And what must I do?” “To what end?” “My end!” Roland’s voice was a low-throttled growl. “It is out of our hands …” the voice came back softly. “No. You must help me. I am your bloodline …” “Then hear us, and then you must decide what will be your true destiny.” The disembodied voice boomed, and I walked back another step, almost losing my balance. I reached out, clutched a bush that made a whole lot of noise, and declared to myself, Okay—I am so out of here—shifting now! *** I was back in my room, pacing as I tried to sort things out. I realized that this was way beyond me. Roland called on his gypsy ancestors with a gypsy spell. Gypsies are human. They do, however, know a great deal about what Fae call ‘simple’ magic. They use potions and such, and apparently (did not know this before) blood, as well. So then, Roland meant to look out for Roland if the Unseelie got past the Seelie Fae and attacked the human world—something to keep in mind.

Also, it was something I wanted to report to Breslyn as soon as I could. For the time being, however, I made up my mind to go to town, get a few things I needed, and scout about. Didn’t need another shower, so I quickly changed my clothes. I discarded my jeans and sweater for a short blue skirt and a matching blue and white tank with a blue cardigan. I slipped into a comfortable pair of short-heeled sandals, grabbed my purse and the keys to the jeep, and without a backward glance made my way downstairs. Yes indeedy, I was almost there—no one in sight. Good to go. I slipped into the car and headed down the long, winding drive. I pressed the gate remote on my visor, waved (in case anyone was in the gatehouse at the window), and passed through without a hitch. Bantry Manor was left at my back. I had made a clean escape. Good, yes? Well then, why did I feel so deflated? I did. I felt downright low. This would not do. I had to get control of my moods. I had to pick Willow Lang up and give her a good talking to. There now, I told myself, you got what you wanted, a free and clean getaway. No questions—no answers—no problem. And the old adage popped into my head: sometimes wanting and getting just don’t end up being the glorious resolution we think it should be. I don’t know why that is, but there you go. I had made up my mind to it. The sorcery that had allowed me to see Shayne Bantry at my bed, which had allowed me to feel him beside me, whispering in my ear, was my magic. It was my illusion. I knew this beyond a shadow of a doubt. Why did I think it was my magic? I really didn’t know. I was guessing physical attraction might inspire fantasy magic in a Fae. It wasn’t like I had anyone I could discuss this irregularity with. My dad? Well even if he were here, I mean, come on. It wasn’t the kind of thing you discuss with your father! However, I ran this by my Fae brain over and over, and I was pretty sure that was the answer. Okay, but why did I see runes tattooed on Shayne’s arms and body? Were the tattoos really there—on his rippled abs—or had my fantasy inked him for me? I blamed it all on my Fae senses. His black boxer shorts? He probably didn’t wear black boxer shorts. Again my treacherous body and my Fae senses had played me. Done. I was done thinking about it. Had it all wrapped up and filed away in a box and was already lifting it to storage. Killarney Village lay ahead. *** Aida had shifted us just outside the queen’s private chambers. Aida slinked over and pinned herself against the queen’s door. I felt a moment’s panic. If we were caught, there would be all hell to pay! “Aida, what are you doing?” “I am just listening in—my brother is with the queen, and I just wanted to make certain that they will be busy for the next few hours … shhh, Ete … let me hear.” I was shocked but intrigued as well. Breslyn was on the other side of the door, speaking in private with the queen. Still I bolstered myself and said, “Aida, no …” “Just be my lookout.” Aida giggled. “Like the old days.” I couldn’t smile. This was not the old days. We were not just children who would be mildly punished. This was serious. “Hurry up, Aida … I really don’t like this, and besides, I don’t really approve … spying on the queen and Breslyn.” She didn’t answer me. Instead, she pulled me to her and plastered my head against the wall. I had a sudden vision of the queen inclining her beautiful head of golden curls as

she motioned for Breslyn to be seated. Oh no, this was not good. If I could hear and sense the queen, she could do the same. The only difference was she wasn’t trying … In my mind I saw the prince standing stiffly. He was in a foul mood, and then his dear, angry voice said, “Dublin is under siege. Unseelies are gathering there in greater numbers than we anticipated.” “So they are.” “You do not seem concerned.” “I am not. Nuad and his trackers are at this very moment working on eliminating their numbers. He informed me that he had the matter under control.” “I should be with them.” Breslyn’s voice resonated, and we didn’t need to have our ears to the wall to hear him. “No, you should not. I gave you a mission, and need you to see it through.” “Anyone could handle it. I am a warrior …” “You are a royal prince. You do not need to waste your valuable time slaying lower caste Unseelie. The time will come when you will have to face the Dark royals … and then, my Prince, you will need all your warrior and princely powers.” “How powerful are the Dark royals?” “One can only guess … very.” The queen sighed. “Now tell me …” “Shee Willow has agreed to keep watch for us.” “Good. Now, my Prince, we have two new players it would seem.” “Who are they?” “One is Omren the Gypsy, who was there at the same time Desmond and Aida were searching out one of our Fae Relics. Shayne Bantry was also searching out the same Relic. One can only wonder what their interest is in this particular artifact.” “Money—ancient Relics fetch a hefty price in the human world?” “And let us consider,” the queen continued as though he had not interrupted her, “ … that your love of humans has become a point of obsession, my Prince. Danté, on the other hand, wants nothing to do with them, and yet I need you both to focus on the humans. Tell me what motives drive a human male—power, money, revenge?” “I know what drives the gypsy. However, I am not certain what drives Bantry. I can’t quite figure him out yet.” “Indeed. He is an enigma, isn’t he? His part in this may adversely affect all of us. I know he has been collecting Fae Relics. To what purpose, I know not.” The queen sighed and became quiet. The prince waited. “Queen Mab of the Daoine has joined the fray,” Queen Aaibhe told him softly. Breslyn released a low whistle. “But why … why would she do such a thing?” The queen’s tone was sad. “Perhaps it was my fault. I think I may have offended her.” “How?” “We are facing a most dangerous battle ahead. It will certainly have some effect on the mighty Daoine as well as on us. I should have consulted with her. I suppose she has taken a stance against me so that I would call on her.” He whistled again. “Politics!” “Yes, but we are better served if Queen Mab is left to me. Mab and I are …” The queen hesitated. “ … very close. I will approach her at the right time in the right manner. In the meantime, does our little Willow keep an eye on Shayne Bantry?” “Aye.”

“I have sensed great anger against the Fae from Shayne Bantry. He was a most trusted high Druid priest—and now he has turned his back on us. Do you think his anger against us has persuaded him to betray us?” “I don’t know yet.” “My Bantry Druids had always served us faithfully in the past. What could have happened?” “I am not certain, but I believe that Willow may discover the reason.” Breslyn sighed gravely. “I have no knowledge of any interaction between Fae and Shayne Bantry.” “Ah, but I do,” the queen said mysteriously. “You may go now, my Prince.” That was it. Breslyn was about to catch us. I took Aida’s hand and shifted us to Dublin. What I didn’t know then was that just before we shifted off the queen had looked through her walls directly at us and smiled to herself … *** Killarney Village was absolutely lovely. I had a really nice morning shopping and strolling about the small town. For a moment, I put aside all other concerns and just took a moment to enjoy the little village. I needed a few sundries and picked up an amazingly pretty summer top as well. When I left the store, I was happily swinging my bag, and then I stopped short. Immediately, I knew I had to be careful. I didn’t want to give myself away. It would know if I looked too long, or too hard. How was it that had I gone through my entire twenty-three years without seeing these things, and now had encountered two of them in a matter of a week? In the narrow alley between two rows of shops, this thing had a woman against the brick wall. She wasn’t there against her will (unless you count being in a trance). She cooed lovingly to the monster she couldn’t see. She saw human. I gave them my back and bent to play with my shoe. I straightened up and tweaked at my clothes and moved forward, just slightly out of its vision. What was I going to do? I couldn’t just walk away and let the disgusting thing have her—and by the looks of it, that was what it was doing, in slow degrees. What could I do? This was all new to me—and let me mention I had no weapon, and I am m-o-r-t-a-l. Here was this monster in full male human Glamour—killing a woman right before my eyes! The thing was grotesque, and I was revolted by its body fluids. They just dripped in globs to the cement. It was a monster of body and mind, and this poor woman was going to die a horrible death if I didn’t figure out what to do. I needed a spell that would work against an Unseelie. As I struggled with my problem, I had to dive into my memories. I had to recall things my father had taught me … and there wasn’t that much about the dark Fae that I could use. This beast was one’s nightmares wrapped up and handed to you in the flesh. Hell— this thing was a whole bunch worse than any of my nightmares! Think, Willow Lang, think! I could see it for what it was because of my Faeness, but its human Glamour scarcely concealed its deformity. It was a venomous, hostile, bitter creature like all of its kind. The Unseelies were the result of the Dark King’s experiments. He wanted company in his kingdom. He wanted Fae to rule. He attempted to manufacture perfect Fae, and the Unseelies were the results of his early efforts. They were his mistakes.

Fine—that wasn’t doing me much good. The damn thing turned and looked my way. Oh-ugh, it drooled huge globs of yellow saliva. The disgusting stuff ran down its spidery body and hit the cement. I had to do something fast. I knew from the stories we had been told as children that Unseelies like to kill for the pleasure of killing. More often than not, they eat their kill, but rarely do they escape to feed on humans. All changed now! These creatures had been made outside the ‘Wheel of Being’, and the Seelie Fae found that fact offensive. I found this dwarfed thing with its spider head and its spider arms way offensive. Damn, I hate spiders! It stroked and kissed the poor woman who clung to it. She had a rash where its huge gray suction tongue had been licking her neck. Her sweater was covered in the yellow goo it drooled all over her. How could I save her without giving myself away? She was enamored with it. He had no doubt mesmerized her. Without warning a hand at my elbow made me jump, and when I saw that it was the prince, I fell into his arms and very nearly started to cry. “It’s killing her!” “Yes, but we won’t let it,” the prince whispered. “You must help her, Shee Willow. It is up to you, and quickly before it senses my presence.” “Me? But you’re here now. You do it.” I was flabbergasted. “Shift. You will be in its face before it has a chance to realize what is happening.” Breslyn put his hands to my waist and pulled me further out of sight. “He will know I am a Fae if he sees me, so you must hurry. He is a lower caste and can’t see the Fae in your humanity.” If matters weren’t so serious, I would have thought he was joking. Me … kill this thing? How? “Yeah … okay … I shift and I’m in its face … then what?” “You will use the Spear of Lugh. I am going to take great joy as I watch you kill that abomination. Willow, this will be your first Unseelie kill, and I am only happy that I am here to see you through it.” “Uh-huh … Spear of Lugh, eh? Not seeing this. Kill, you say? Me … kill … Willow Lang here … part human, mortal, and doesn’t even like killing regular kind of spiders. I have occasionally killed a spider or two when they invaded my space, but I am never happy about it …” Out of nowhere the Spear of Lugh (this was a Seelie Weapon that cannot only kill all Fae but perform other chores as well) appeared in his hand. He shoved it into my hands. The word spear gave me visions of long wooden things with sharp, pointy ends. This spear had a stem that was made of oak and conformed to the size you needed for each kill. The blade was jagged, and it looked deadly. I looked at Breslyn, and all that came out of my mouth was a strange hissing, until I finally formed the words, “Girl spy for the Fae … artist … not killer.” “Do you want that creature to torture and kill that poor woman?” “No. I want you to kill it!” My fingers trembled as I tried to aim the sword and felt it as it adjusted itself to me. I don’t know how I knew that was what it was doing, I just did. I still protested, “Not doing this.” I thought about shifting somewhere he couldn’t find me, and then I thought of the poor woman still suffering at its spidery appendages. “You have to … go now, Shee Willow, before he gets her into his car at the end of the alley. He won’t know what is coming at him until it is too late. You know his location.

Shift, Willow—shift!” I looked towards the many-limbed disgusting thing and its long tongue as it lapped at her chest just above the scoop of her cotton top. Its tongue left blisters in its path. I held the Spear tightly and shifted. I was there—right in front of (for lack of anything better to call it) its face. The woman was collapsing onto the ground, unable to take in what she was seeing. Without thinking, without much of a plan, and with a power I didn’t know I possessed … Wham. I laid the Spear right into its center. It looked at me, and I could see its astonishment. It reached for the Spear stem sticking out of its torso, but the Spear was already back in my hands. I watched as it crumbled to the concrete, fully expecting it to disintegrate. I was desperately hoping that it would disintegrate. They should disintegrate, I told myself. It didn’t. I had killed a monster. I made my first monster kill. I was a monster killer. It made some oozing and gushing sounds as it lay there. Its blood surprised me. I had expected it to be green or yellow or anything but red. It was, however, a pale shade of red. “Yup … time to shift now, before anyone walks by. Dirty deed done … time to leave,” I whispered to myself because I was frozen in place and this thing was not disintegrating and the woman was looking like she wanted to scream! Breslyn whispered at my ear, “Don’t worry—I spelled the area around us with Llengel.” Right, that was the spell of concealment. Good, but I still wanted this thing gone. As I stared at it, I thought perhaps I should just faint and leave it all for the prince to clean up. The older woman backed away from us. Her eyes were wide with fright. She couldn’t see Breslyn—she couldn’t see me or the man-sized spider on the sidewalk, so I wondered what it was she was afraid of. Her hand was out as though to ward something off. She clutched the purse slung over her shoulder. She looked at her clothes ruined with yellow goo and finally let go. The scream that came out of her mouth made us put our hands over our ears. She seemed glued to where she stood, but her hand moved fleetingly to her neck where the Unseelie had left his mark, and she stared through us at what she thought was an empty alley. Her eyes were wide open with fear. It appeared she didn’t know what she was doing in the alley, but she knew she wanted one thing: to run, but she stood rigid with fear. I could see she wanted to scream again. Her mouth was open, and the horror was in her eyes. Finally, she did manage a short cry of sorts, thought better of it, and took off in a run. She stopped once, looked back, and screamed again. Heck, who could blame her? I wanted to scream. We could scream together. The prince held me tightly as the woman took off, and then with a wave of his large hand, the dead, oozing creature was designated to another realm. Fine with me. The Spear was gone as well. I don’t know where the prince consigned its disgusting body, I was only happy it was no longer on the sidewalk. The poor woman wasn’t going to believe anything she was feeling. She didn’t want to remember what she had not really seen. She wouldn’t know how she got the painful blisters or the yellow goo all over her clothing. By mid-afternoon, it would be relegated

to ‘just one of those things’ that so many of us have done with the unexplained. “That was intense.” I finally breathed and sank for a moment into Breslyn’s strong hold. The prince laughed, patted my back, and took my hand. “Get used to it. There are more of those things lurking about than we even know of. Gais released them to keep us diverted, and his strategy seems to be working.” “How is it he was able to release those things, but not the royal Unseelies?” “His portal wasn’t strong enough. The royal Unseelies are much like us in appearance and, we think, power. The Dark King perfected his method of ‘Creation’, and his royal Fae were physically near perfect in appearance. Their mana kept them trapped—it bounced off the prison wall, you see. Their own power worked against them. They higher the caste, the greater their magic, the harder it was for them to even approach the wall.” Breslyn touched my nose before continuing. “Our queen wisely used the magic of the Unseelie royals against them. She drew on it and fed it into the fabric of the prison walls.” Breslyn stopped there and took my hands to his sensuous lips. “Shee Willow. I know this shook you, but I am bursting with pride. The queen will be pleased as well.” He then pulled me along as he led me out of the alley and up the avenue. As we hurried along, he was whispering words of praise. He told me I was a great wee Fae warrior and as I listened to him I had this overwhelming feeling … I enjoyed basking in his approval, and a large part of me was proud. I had felt Fae battle instincts surge through my body. Something that was all Fae had taken over my brain and my agility. The human part of me wanted to save the older woman. The Fae part of me wanted to eradicate an Unseelie abomination. It was blood simple. No one on the streets of Killarney would know. It was relegated to ‘don’t see, don’t tell’. I knew, however, and although all this pride swelled inside of me, the meek Willow that was still a great part of me did not want a repeat. I thought I sounded firm when I told Breslyn, “That was a one time deal, fella. I am an artist. I paint. It is what I do. No warrior … no killer here—although I enjoyed killing that awful ugly spider thing—but nope, not doing it again, no way, no how.” “You are a warrior and an artist, my bonnie wee lass. It came to you naturally, and we both know it. You will kill them every single time you encounter one trying to kill the hapless humans. It comes naturally to you.” He laughed right out loud and stopped to drop a kiss on my lips. “Now, we are going into the corner pub for a drink to celebrate.” “Drink? Yes, drinking is good. Need a drink.” We were just passing my jeep, and I put a hand on Breslyn’s arm. “Let’s just drop off my packages?” He had been holding them for me while I had made my first kill. If we were going to be doing more of this today— which I hoped with all my heart we weren’t—I wanted my stuff safe, and both of us with free hands. “Aye, then,” he said, and without opening the jeep door, the packages were inside. He looked at me. “You could have done that yourself without going to the car … a flick of your wrist. You remember that, right?” He frowned slightly. “Yes, I know, but I have been pretending to be human, remember? I try not to use any of my Fae abilities while out and about.” He didn’t say anything to this but just steered me into the pub. A few minutes later, I actually felt myself take a breath and sigh with relief. It was over. As we sat there and I looked around at the happy crowd, I half expected the law to

march in and arrest me, but so far, so good. No one was coming after me for murder in the streets. I had a cold light beer and he had warm ale—ugh. I found that once I had accepted the fact that I had killed a monster, I became verbal on the subject. I was almost ranting about how amazingly we handled the situation. “How many of those things are there loose in Ireland? How did I kill it? I thought they were immortal like all full-blooded Fae. How did I know how to do that? I felt … something guide my hand when I was holding the spear. I thought a spear would be longer? Where did it come from? What else does it do—is it mine? When can I have it again?” He put up his hand and laughed. “Easy, love … easy.” He sighed, sat back in the booth, and took my hand to his lips. “Now, let us see if I can satisfy your questions. Yes, there are certainly more Unseelies in Ireland than we at first imagined—most of which are in Dublin. There are more there than I care to count already infiltrating everyday human lives—to what end, we are not certain. Apparently now these abominations are here in Killarney—and that, Willow, has me concerned.” He said this with some disgust. “You know already that you killed it with the Spear of Lugh, which was kept well hidden and available to the queen and myself. Only our ‘deadly weapons’ originally brought here from Danu can kill Fae, although now and then a Fae can no longer cope with the side effects of immortality and simply decides he no longer wishes to be, and vanishes. I am not sure how that works, and I don’t really care to know. From now on, my Shee Willow, you have to be ready to do what you did today. I am going to arrange for you to have a weapon at your disposal. As to knowing how to use it, you have that ability in your make-up. That power was always maintained deep in your Fae senses like a human would say about riding a bike. Once you know how … it is always your ability to use. You have the knowledge ingrained in your Fae mind.” I sipped my light beer and sighed heavily. When I was with the prince, I almost liked being Fae. He made me feel like I belonged. He made me feel like a part of a greater whole. I liked it a whole lot. A platter of breads, cheeses with meats, and fruits was brought to us. The prince popped a grape in my mouth and then kissed my lips. “Lovely wee lass …” he whispered and then sighed. “ … tell me, have you noticed anything untoward at Bantry?” All at once I recalled the spoils of my eavesdropping. “Roland … I saw him …” I tried to put what I had seen into words, and the prince grinned to encourage me forward. “You saw him—and?” “And he had drawn some kind of arcane symbols on a blanket. He was kneeling and chanting, and cutting his wrist to bleed on the symbols. He called on his gypsy ancestors, and Breslyn … one of them answered!” The prince was interested. “Indeed. Gypsies are forever surprising me. Go on.” “Yes, well … they said it was written that the Unseelies would attack, and he wanted to know what to do to take care of himself during the war.” I shook my head. “That was the gist of it.” “And what did they tell him?” “I don’t know. I had been listening clandestinely outside his front door. I kinda tripped and made some noise so I shifted off.” The prince didn’t speak for a moment, and when he did, he wasn’t smiling. “I see.” He licked his bottom lip and then asked, “And Bantry?”

I felt myself squirm. I didn’t want to talk about Shayne Bantry. I evaded. “Nothing I can pin point, but again I happened to hear him and Roland speaking in Romany and I eavesdropped. I heard them say that he greatly dislikes the Fae. He has been looking for some kind of Fae Relic.” I paused and looked at the prince pointedly. “You know, it would help, Breslyn, if you would tell me just what I am supposed to be watching for.” “That wouldn’t work. Then you would be looking for it in conversations, in actions, and perhaps seeing it where it doesn’t really exist. If either man does something suspicious, you will know.” “Then tell me this, why would Bantry have runes tattooed on his belly and around one of his biceps?” “And you know this because …?” The prince’s silver eyes were intense as he looked at me. I laughed. “No, I did not see him naked …” then added, “at least, not totally. I did, however, just catch a glimpse of him without a shirt. It is summer, you know.” There was no way I was telling him about my ‘very magic dream’ episode. “We both know what it means. He has been dabbling in the black arts, but it could be as innocent as drawing protection spells around his estate. Then again, it could be something more sinister. I didn’t get a black arts feeling from him when I first saw and observed him. However, the queen feels he needs watching … she did not say why.” I had just made my first monster kill, and there I was about to eat like nothing had happened. It was surreal. I had accepted the entire scene because I was Fae and knew intrinsically about the Dark Realm’s inhabitants. I have Fae training. I have Fae powers. However, the human part of me kept wagging a finger and telling me I had killed something. Finally, I couldn’t put up with the argument in my head and told the human part of me, Pipe down. After all, I might have killed something, but it had been an evil something, and I had saved a human life. End of story. At any rate, now that it was over, it just seemed foolish to dwell on it. Was I a coldhearted Fae killer? Maybe? Maybe not; maybe warrior was a better word. Oh yeah, I liked the sound of that. We ate our meal together, which was fun, because Breslyn was the kind of man … Fae … who put one at ease. He talked about things he knew I’d enjoy talking about, like the latest hit songs … a new movie he said he would like to take me to see. We talked about my work as an artist, about some of the paintings that resided within Bantry—and before I realized it, we had eaten everything on our plates. He got to his feet. “Come, Shee Willow. I will walk you to your vehicle.” He left money on the table as he took my hand. I still had questions, and I told him so. He smiled and then chuckled as though he had all the answers to every question in the world and said, “They will have to wait till later. Now, apparently and according to the queen, I have a wayward sister I have to track down.” I was surprised. “You have a sister?” “Aye, a younger … much younger sister. Her name is Aida, and she is the very devil …” His smile mitigated these words. I could see he was fond of her. I got an entirely new picture of the prince and the Fae. Logic had always insisted that they weren’t all as cold and cruel as those I had met growing up. The prince had started proving this in slow degrees.

We had reached my car, and he took me into his arms. “Will my Shee Willow miss me while I am gone?” “I wouldn’t have to miss you, if you would stay and answer the rest of my questions,” I teased. “Evading my question? Come then … let me give you something to think about while I am gone.” Before I realized what he was doing, right there, on the street next to Bantry’s jeep, the prince pressed me up against his rock-solid body and lowered his head. His lips parted mine for his velvet tongue. His body pressured me for a response. Hey, I’m human … I responded. He left me then with a wink and walked away. I knew he was being careful. He didn’t want to be spotted shifting off in case there was another Unseelie in the vicinity. *** My time that evening with Willow Lang (as pleasant as it had been), proved to be a mistake. Her scent had taken over my senses and wouldn’t leave. A vision of her violet eyes haunted me. Her smile had tickled one out of me that night, and did so still the next day. Her image got into my head and wouldn’t leave. I won’t be a lovesick teen, I told myself. I am not given to fancy. Yet, I couldn’t seem to get her out of my mind. I had a couple of chores to do in town, but I knew, if I were honest with myself, that I had come into the village in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her. Hell, I wanted more than that. I knew it, you know it, but I could only hope she didn’t know it. I was not up for a relationship of any kind … No relationships, not for me … ever—it wouldn’t be fair to me or to any woman looking for a life with me. Ah, but sex … with Willow—perhaps? No … not with Willow Lang—that would never work. She was not a one-time deal. Put off going to town—put it off, I told myself. So I went into town. I rather thought I knew where she would be shopping (small village). Thought I could ‘just bump’ into her, and maybe we would take lunch together. I know, not my head thinking. I know all about that—the wrong head making all the decisions. My dick had never before ruled my brain. It was something my dad had taught me: Wait for the novelty to wear off, Shayne, then you will know what is real and what isn’t, and don’t let the head between your legs overrule the head on your shoulders! He was right on that score, and I never before … but, this was something different … This wasn’t just lust; Willow Lang drew something from deep inside me. Willow Lang made me want more than was wise for me to want … Now, the way things stood with me, the way my future looked, I had to keep up my guard. It was more important than ever that I kept my distance from this particular woman—and still, she drew me to her, intrigued me beyond what was safe. She posed a serious threat to the status quo of my existence. I had to put a stop to my desires. I couldn’t want her … I shouldn’t want her … if I was going to save us both from a Godawful future. My life had been recently and forever changed—changed beyond the pale. I would never be the man I was. All because of the whim of a Fae! I could never offer a woman my heart and my commitment. I could never offer a woman forever … Forever was a crazy word. Forever once had no meaning for me … And now, now that I was no longer me? What could I offer a woman like her? I

needed to stay clear of her. I wanted to put a solid wall between us. I wanted to be anywhere else on earth than near her and that body of hers, or that smile, or those violet eyes that made me lose myself in their depths. And then last night in bed—so intense I still felt it was real, but it couldn’t be. I thought I was at the head of her bed … looking at her. I wasn’t wearing anything but a pair of black boxer shorts, the ones I had worn to bed. I touched her hair, my hand had been inches away from taking hold of her breast. I whispered in her ear, told her how beautiful she was and then, cold, hard ice hit me in the face! I was awake and I was back in my own room. It was a dream, only a dream, but there was something about it that spelled reality— magic. Damn! It had left me burning and hungry, hungry for her, and if I didn’t put a stop to this kind of fantasizing soon, I was going to find myself in a whole lot of trouble I didn’t need. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my white jeep. It was directly across the street. There was a pub not far down the avenue, and on a hunch I was just about to cross the street and move towards it. They loomed large and vibrant in my scope … He was big and imposing in his appearance. He had dark blonde hair tied at the nape of his neck with leather reminding me of a gladiator. He was ruggedly good-looking and, I thought, somehow familiar …? But, no … I was certain I had never seen him before. His apparel appeared simple—a blue T-shirt and faded jeans—but I could tell they were expensive. There was a gold torque at his neck, and again it reminded me of something familiar … I couldn’t stop myself as I stepped forward towards them. Mid-stride I put on the brakes. Hell, he was touching her … holding her hand in an intimate manner, and I wanted to tear her away from him. I wanted to blast him out of the atmosphere … I wanted … bloody hell! He was taking her into his fucking arms! I felt like a wild, enraged animal. I felt totally out of control. I heard a snarl grow in my throat. I felt a guttural hiss pull up my nose … I felt like searing the concrete, making my way over to him, and laying him low with one well-placed punch (although judging from his size and manner, it might have taken at least two blows). And then he was kissing her, and she wasn’t stopping him. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I felt like the air from my lungs had been sucked out of me in one ragged pull. I watched her close her eyes for his kiss. I watched him touch her chin before he sauntered off. I watched her smile before she got into the jeep. Who the bloody hell was he? And more importantly, what was he to her?

~ Nine ~ AIDA WAS TUGGING at my hand. I was looking at the glory that was Trinity College and sighing. “Ete—come on. We have to hurry.” I can understand why humans gather there, at Trinity. It is quite impressive. An excitement that was almost an entity reverberated in the atmosphere. Students were busy coming and going, talking and laughing, playing music, playing at learning, playing … playing … and a sudden feeling welled inside of me for these humans. Their lives are so short, and yet they strive for so much. I could see why Breslyn becomes attached. Aida had stopped tugging at me, so I turned and smirked; she was looking at the human guys. She is always looking at the guys (human and Fae). I pinched her. “Ow! What was that for?” “Aida, have you forgotten why we are here? Desmond. You want to find Desmond.” Aida giggled and said, “Yes, I do, but, Ete, only just look at some of these human males. Are they not worthy a look or two …?” “Aida, I thought you told me Desmond was the one for you?” “And so he is, but that doesn’t preclude me from looking …” I laughed and took her arm. “Come on. We have to get busy.” Aida giggled again and whispered, “Ete, I like the way they look us up and down. It lacks finesse, but it is very exciting. Our males have quite forgotten how to show a woman she is beautiful—with a look like that. I like it very much.” Aida is incorrigible, and I laughed. “Never mind, Princess. We have work if we are going to find the ‘love of your life—Desmond’, right?” Aida nodded absently, and I looked around at the other females. It was true: the male humans were giving us looks that were downright ‘hot’. I wondered if we were dressed inappropriately. We were both wearing Lauren Capri jeans. I was wearing a pretty blue tank top, and Aida was wearing a little red halter thing that exposed her midriff. I breathed a sigh of relief as I noted that most of the female human students milling around us were dressed similarly. Aida tugged at my fingers. “Ete, are you throwing any of your Lianhan out? Because those guys over there look like they are panting and ready to crawl over to us.” I laughed and gave my auburn hair a toss. “No, I am not throwing any of my Lianhan power off. Now pay attention.” “Then it is just because your gray eyes are so intense and your body says, I am sex, come and look …” Aida laughed out loud. I smacked her playfully. “You are outrageous. No wonder you are a trial to Breslyn.” She sighed “I am, you know, a trial to him.” She regarded me and whispered, “You should use your Lianhan on Bres, full force …”

“No. That would be no different than drugging him, spelling him, and having him under false pretenses. I want him to come to realize that he loves me.” That was what I wanted. My Lianhan power could make a human male die in ecstasy. It could capture the lust and need of a male Fae. I wanted to do neither. Illusion was a wonderful asset for many instances, but not in this. I wanted genuine love. Aida’s sparkling, many-shaded blue eyes were lit with amusement, and she put an arm around me as she tossed her long, dark blond hair back over her pretty shoulders. “Ooh … now if I weren’t so attached to my dear, handsome Desmond, I would be making my way over there … look at him.” She indicated a tall, ruggedly good-looking guy hanging with his friends not too far away. “You are impossible. I doubt you will ever be faithful to anyone.” Aida always made me laugh. She was, I thought, too light-hearted to really commit to anyone. Aida threw up her hands. “Never mind. I can look, can’t I? Besides, it doesn’t count if you play with a human. Humans are not forever.” We Fae often simplify matters into this form. However, it still made me frown. “I know that, and even so, I find it does count for me. Breslyn cared for that human woman, that Reigate girl, and even though I knew it was not a ‘forever feeling’, it hurt me, when I knew he was rushing off to see her.” I sighed. “Now he is busy with another mortal, and although I know he is not really attached to her yet, it still worries me, Aida. This one is half Fae.” “Oh you mean the little faeling—Willow? She is Desmond’s daughter.” “What? Desmond’s daughter? Are you sure? Oh no … this can’t be good. This is awful.” “Why, Ete?” “Don’t you find it too much of a coincidence that Desmond was taken after the queen called on Willow Lang for help?” “Oh, I never thought of that.” Aida wrung her hands, “Ete, this gets worse by the second. Should we tell the little ‘Faeling Willow’ about her father?” My nose wrinkled—it does that when I am solving a problem. “Don’t call her that. It is not becoming. She is Fae. The only difference between her and us is that she is not immortal—and she could be if she so chooses. The queen has already granted her the elixir. She hasn’t yet chosen to take it. You know, Aida … I watched her from another dimension after Breslyn met with her. I could have liked her, if Breslyn were not so interested in her.” “Do be serious, Ete. You can’t believe Breslyn would choose her over you?” Aida scoffed. “Ete, I have seen the way he looks at you. The Faeling … I mean, Willow … is not for him. He will see that. He will open his essence and realize it is you only you that will fulfill him. I know it.” “Well, I am glad one of us is so confident. I wish it could be soon. I just wish …” “So do I, Ete. I love the notion of you becoming my sister.” “Yes, well for now, we must find Desmond, and my spell seems to have taken us where it is next to impossible to find the Unseelie who might lead us to him. The locator has found a moving target!” “Then try it again, Ete.” “Aida, I am baffled though. The more I think about this, the more I think we are on the wrong trail.”

“Why?” “Unseelies don’t have the power to capture a Seelie. An Unseelie couldn’t have taken Desmond. I am certain of that.” “Yes, but … what if Gaiscioch was able to do so … with one of the ancient mirrors?” “I just don’t see it. At any rate, I don’t have the answer. Something, however, seems out of sync.” I sighed as I thought about the problem. “This has the feel of another force at work. But, at the moment, we have to redo the locator spell, and we need some privacy for that.” I enveloped us with the Féth Fiada (the spell of invisibility). “Now, Aida, let us try this again!”

~ Ten ~ AFTER I LEFT KILLARNEY Village, got back to Bantry, and put my packages away, I wondered fleetingly where Shayne Bantry might be. I had a great deal to think about, so I headed outside. Bouncer and Buck had been sleeping in the kitchen, and they jumped up and followed me outside with great joy. I stayed to the narrow deer trail that wound through the pine forest, which hugged the far north side of the estate. I loved the woods—always have. If you kept an ear tuned you could hear its song. If you kept your eyes open, you could see its dance. You had to let your senses work … and oh, the mysteries that unfold in a forest. A woodpecker high in an old tree. A hawk warning you away from its nest. A red-tailed deer effortlessly gliding through the trees and the wildflowers that grew where a beam of light showcased their loveliness. I stepped out of the dark woods onto the back field with a happy sigh. The German shepherds had been sniffing at something they found irresistible but gave it up and came bounding after me. We were on our way back from my hour’s stroll, the great mansion standing regally before me as dusk approached. Was it only today I encountered another Unseelie and actually killed him? Who was I? Certainly not the meek Willow Lang forever afraid of being hurt. This question burrowed into my mind and demanded an answer as I watched the dogs playing with each other. I was diverted for a moment by the great gusto of their game and wondered why it was that they never seemed to tire. I felt something and looked round. Roland was walking towards me. I wondered how long and how far behind me he had been. He waved and called for me to wait, so I had no choice, although I wasn’t in the mood. It had been a very full day, and what I still needed was some down time. So much was happening so fast, and I just needed to think about everything that was happening to me. However, I smiled a greeting at him, and it struck me again that he was certainly an attractive man. He wore a navy T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His dark curly hair framed his lean and ruggedly attractive face, but his eyes …? There was something in the deep darkness of his eyes that set me at ‘caution’. Perhaps it was the predator in him that loomed large and dangerous? He was certainly that. Perhaps it was what I had seen and heard? Perhaps the image of him calling on his ancestors with blood was still too fresh in my mind. Perhaps the sound of his voice looking for an answer to serve his own needs still waved a warning flag in my direction? “Did you have a good day?” he asked in that husky Romany accent. Bouncer and Buck had already greeted him with enthusiasm and then had taken off for a good run (as though they had not already had one). I watched them leave because it was easier than looking into those black, penetrating eyes of his.

“I did. A little shopping, a nice lunch, and now a lovely walk—what more could a girl want on her day off?” “Now … you don’t really want me to answer that do you?” He teased and made me smile. I had left myself open for that, and I bit my bottom lip. He sucked in air and said, “Ah, sweet-thing, you can’t be doing that with your lip and not get kissed.” I smiled ruefully. “You, sir, are way too dangerous for this little American.” He laughed. “If you know the rules, it doesn’t have to be … er … dangerous.” “Ah, but I don’t like rules. And the way I see it, if I keep my distance from the fire, I won’t get burned.” He laughed again and shook his head. “You are a bit of a mystery, Willow Lang.” “Not really—in fact, I am boringly simple …” I shrugged. “Now, since I gave you an accounting of my day, how was yours?” I changed the subject. “Not so different than yours. I had a chore to do in a little village not far from here, Pringle Way, and actually only just got back a few minutes ago.” He winked at me. “Thought I would take a walk before I have to run in and change for this evening.” “Ah, big date tonight?” Shouldn’t have asked. I was supposed to spy on him, yes, but this would sound like I was interested. “I wouldn’t call it that. I have a dinner engagement with some friends in the antique business. Thought I would catch up on some of their news.” There was a forced casualness in his tone that made me believe he would be doing much more than just a ‘catch-up’ dinner with colleagues. I wondered what the big secret was—but kept myself from asking. No easy task there as my curiosity and my ‘spy job’ nudged me to find out. I was certain that one day in the very near future this spying business would lead me into major trouble. I smiled. “Me … I am going to take a long bubble bath and read.” “Now that sounds tempting.” He grinned and moved in closer. My hand was out before I could think. “You, my friend, were about to take a walk,” I reminded him. There was a fine line that I attempted to maneuver—several lines in fact. The first and most important was my mission. Roland had inserted himself into our interests. (Wasn’t it grand how I was suddenly thinking of myself as we with the Fae? Never-mind—I couldn’t contemplate the significance of that just then.) Roland knew that the Dark Unseelie Fae were planning an attack. His concern was for himself. How far would he go to save himself? All the way? Would he betray his own kind? I hadn’t made up my mind about that, although I had given it quite a lot of thought. Had to flirt and stay friendly while I kept my distance. This was not going to be easy, because Roland didn’t seem like the kind of guy that would take ‘no’ while one flirted with him. In fact, I rather thought saying no would egg him on. I don’t like walking on eggshells, but I had a couple of months left before I went home, and Roland wasn’t an enemy I wanted at my back. “Willow! There you are.” Shayne Bantry said my name with an irritation in his voice he made no attempt to conceal. He looked at Roland and nodded curtly. “I have been looking for you everywhere.” Thank goodness! I thought to myself. In the future I was going to have to find some way of avoiding Roland Omren when I was out alone. “Hi, Squire … is something wrong?”

“No … not wrong, but I took your offer to look at the work you have already done and would like a moment of your time to discuss a few things.” I found this odd. This was my day off. He seemed annoyed that he had to come searching for me. I felt myself frown. I excused myself from Roland and turned to walk back towards the manor house with Bantry. He said softly, “It was the best I could come up with, and you looked like you needed saving from Omren. He can be … er … very aggressive.” I had been trying hard not to stare at Shayne Bantry. A difficult thing because he filled my eyes. His scent of wood and herbs wafted through me (wafted—good word). He … he loomed before me ‘larger than life’. That was an expression that had never made sense to me before. Larger than life? What was that? A dinosaur was larger than life, a mountain was larger than life, but let me tell you, this man was larger than life. This man vibrated with electricity beyond the confines of his body. Larger than life (to me now) meant Shayne Bantry. He walked beside me and filled my senses—hell, he filled the air around him. He towered above me, and a warm glow emanated from him towards me. Oh yeah. He occupied space that went beyond his huge, handsome self. He … drew you to him with those dark green eyes, and those eyes promised a passion beyond anything you had ever experienced. Simply put, the man’s presence literally took my breath away. Scanning him now, I felt an urge to lean into him, melt against him, to offer up my body and beg him to … instead, I murmured, “Thank you …” “For appearance sake we had better return to the house for just a short while, and then you can continue your walk if you like,” he offered quietly. Stupidly I tried to find something witty to say. I got nothing! Finally, I was able to comment, “I … uh … have already had a full enough day. I think I’ll go in and fix some dinner.” “You know, I wouldn’t mind staying home for dinner tonight myself …” There was a hint in there. I couldn’t avoid it. I quaked. This was stupid. We had already had dinner together. What was one more? “Shall I make enough for two, then?” He looked at me with those deep green eyes. I felt his gaze rake me over from head to toe, but he did it with a discreetness that was all his own style. His eyes were shaded and allowed him to look long and hard and turn my knees into rubber. My breath was caught in my lungs while I waited for his response. What did I hope for? If he said no, would I feel low? If he said yes, would I be scared to death? “Dinner for two sounds really good,” he said and paused before he added? “I am only surprised that you are free this evening?” There was something in his eyes and in his voice that made my mind pull up short. It was as though there were a hidden meaning in his words. Nonsense, I told myself. I was being paranoid. It was a learned trait from all the years of hiding what I was from my friends and colleagues. However, I couldn’t shake the sensation. Perhaps someone had seen me with Breslyn in the pub and told him I had a friend? What did that matter? Breslyn had been in human Glamour. Safe enough. “Now, why would you be surprised?” I knew I was being evasive. I didn’t want to talk about Breslyn. Less said, less lied. “You must know the answer to that,” he returned, equally evasive. I thought it best to duck into the safety of discussing food. “Bridget marinated a

couple of steaks. I’ll throw a couple of potatoes in the oven and toss up a salad. Hmm, and with Bridget’s freshly baked buns, we can’t go wrong? Right?” I brandished a smile to hide my nervousness. “Perfect. I have to run an errand for a nearby neighbor, but I can be ready for dinner at seven?” “Okie dokie,” I said. Okie dokie? Where did that come from? Another evening with my boss who was Squire aloof and cool one minute, and then what (I don’t know what) the next. I couldn’t put a label to what he was when he wasn’t aloof, but it sure made my insides fill with butterflies. I needed time to myself. So, with a wave over my shoulder, I first went to the kitchen. I preheated the oven, busied my fluttering fingers by cutting up greens for the salad, and washed and stuck in the potatoes in the oven. Hands on hips, I looked around. Satisfied, I headed for my suite. I prepared a hot bubble bath, climbed in, lay back, and lost myself and everyone else while I soaked. I wasn’t going to think about him … or his bedroom suite just a short distance down the hall. Not going to think about that one bit. So of course, you got it—that was all I thought about, him, his bedroom, his life …? How could I not think about him when everything about Shayne Bantry was a mystery that tempted and egged on this curious person? I found that it mattered to me that the queen of Fae wanted him watched. Why? What threat could he be? It must have something to do with the Fae Relics. Perhaps it was because he bought and kept what the Fae rightly believed was theirs? How did I feel about that? There are shades of gray that are so much more complex than the color you think you see, so much more complex than what that color represents. I didn’t have answers that fit just yet. My mind was a whopping hole where thoughts fell in and got lost. Didn’t know what to think or even feel any longer. Once upon a time I had everything all neatly compartmentalized—just a short while ago, before I came to Ireland. Hide my Fae self to the world and get by. Don’t trust the Fae, and don’t trust humans. Now, I blew off my own rules. I trusted the prince completely. I trusted the queen. But Bantry? He was another thing altogether. I didn’t have instincts where he was concerned. I had sensations—lots of sensations. Circumstances and the prince’s concerns had left me wondering even more about Bantry’s character. What I had overheard the other day in the library had me more than a little concerned. Shayne despised the Fae. Me: Fae—sort of. No getting round that fact. Where did that leave my feelings? Okay, enough! My head was warning, Danger, danger, explosion imminent! Had to stop thinking. Instead, I was going to close my eyes and lie back in my bath, play with my bubbles, and try not to see his face or figure out what went on in Shayne Bantry’s complicated mind. Good plan. What makes plans ‘great’ is when they work! *** “Ete, stop!” Aida said firmly as she grabbed me by the shoulders. I looked up, and her pretty face was set with excitement. She stood frozen, or rather determined, in place on the busy sidewalk. “What?”

“What? You ask what? We have been shifting all over the city without coming close to this beasty Unseelie thing that may or may not have my Desmond!” “Your point?” I had also become bored with the sport. I felt a bit out of sorts as well. We had been shifting as Aida said for a few hours, and we came up empty-handed every single time. My Breslyn would call it ‘disheartening’. It was odd, as we do not have the exact equivalent of a heart, but a word like that made sense to me. At any rate, I blew out air and looked around for a moment, studying our surroundings. Impatiently, Aida grabbed my chin and made me look into those variegated blues of hers, saying with a mischievous smile, “Ete, I have come to a very excellent conclusion.” “And that would be?” “Your locator spell—not working.” My hands went to my hips. “My locator spell has always worked. It was more likely that the abomination knows we are tracking it. No doubt he has been ‘shift jumping’. Eventually, he will settle in and hide our Relic. Then we will have him.” “Yes, leaves each location just before we do, so he must know we have his scent,” Aida agreed. “However, you are not sure this particular dark drone was the one who took the Relic.” “Yes … nearly sure. I thought I felt something two shifts ago …” I shrugged over this because the trouble was that we Seelie Fae cannot sense our own Relics. However, I had sensed that the drone carried more than his own weight as he shifted. It might have been his woman—the woman he was keeping alive until she was no longer needed. “What worries me is that he … all these ‘abominations’ as Breslyn calls them, the foul stench of the earth—are feeding on humans. How awful, Aida. We really need to put a stop to it somehow.” I felt the weight of a heavy sigh as the image this presented horrified me. We looked around at the merry people winding past us. We were on Harcourt Street. It was already dark, and the street had filled up with young and old alike intent on visiting their favorites clubs and pubs. Entertainment had spilled onto the street, and music invited all so inclined to join in on the night’s revelry. “Come on,” Aida said and took me by the hand. “What are you doing? Where are we going?” “Into that club … with that music …” Aida swayed saucily to the tune. “Ah yes, my friend. It is time for a little of what the humans call, rock ’n roll!” “But … we have to keep trying to find Desmond?” I made an attempt at a feeble objection. The sound of the music was pulling at me as well. We Fae brought many things with us to the savage earth we found, and music was one of those things. “The mind thinks clearer when it has a moment to breathe. We will give our minds a moment … to breathe,” Aida responded and pulled me along. A blink and a satisfied nod put us in the appropriate attire. I was wearing a soft pastel green cocktail dress and spiked heels that gave me more height. Aida was wearing a sexy little number in red. If anyone had witnessed the transformation they would have dismissed it as an optical trick of the mind. They would merely shrug it off and go about their business. It couldn’t have happened the way they saw it happen, so it didn’t happen. I had to smile as I shook my head, but I allowed Aida to pull me towards the dance floor. Suddenly the music took over. We were actually (not in years but in maturity) about the age of most of the youth on the floor. We set aside the warriors in us and promised each other and ourselves it was just for a little while …

It didn’t take but a moment before young men surrounded us, and just a few moments later we owned the dance floor. And it was on the dance floor a good twenty minutes later when my Breslyn, the Prince of Dagda found us. He stood frowning in his designer black dress pants and black silk shirt open wide at his neck, his arms across his massive chest. I saw his entrance. I did not allow him to see me looking, staring at him. The human females near me exclaimed almost in one voice that he was a hunk of eye candy—and he was. His long, dark blond hair was slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck, folded under and tied again. His royal gold torque glittered and showed his beautiful, strong neckline. His silver eyes were alive with emotions Fae are always supposed to control. He didn’t look like he was going to control one single thing … Female eyes were all turned his way. He didn’t care. He moved purposely between the dancers. I couldn’t take my gaze from his mesmerizing form. Normally he would have accorded these females a devastatingly winning smile, but at the moment his vision was centered on me, and he made no secret of it. I was still moving (I hoped provocatively) around some young man. I wanted my prince to feel something for me, know what he felt—admit what he felt. I gulped, attempting to regain my usual placidity. It was obvious that he was burning with irritation. I could see the purpose in him as he moved to get to me. I could see the effort he was making suddenly to control himself as he arrived and stood like a stock before me and my dance partner. He seemed so intense at that moment that he didn’t even realize all the eyes in the room that were staring at him. A royal Fae prince even in human Glamour is stunningly seductive. I felt suddenly alive. He was here … he was close. I believe if I had a human heart it would have beat out of my chest with anticipation. He stood for a long moment hovering over us, letting me see his mood. I decided to try and ease the tension of the moment by smiling softly and saying his name. “Breslyn.” He tapped on the young man’s shoulder and said, “Bye bye.” There was no room for discussion in his voice or his stance. The young man had already looked up—way up—at Breslyn and sized the situation in his mind as well as in his eyes. He put up his hands comically and backed away. I maneuvered a graceful dance step that put me right into Breslyn’s arms, and then I put my hands on his broad shoulders and allowed the Lianhan in me to sizzle my body in such a way that he could not mistake what I was doing. I whispered, “Since you scared off my partner … you must finish the dance with me.” “Your partner?” Breslyn spat, “That poor lad could never measure up as your partner.” I could see that he was angrier than even he realized. I was pleased because I was getting the reaction I had hoped for. I liked the sound of his annoyance and said nothing as I looked at his lips and licked my own. I knew how much experience he has had in his many thousands of years. I also knew he wanted me. In spite of his determination to keep me at arms’ length, he wanted me. I felt his hard maleness press against me and rested my head on his chest. He whispered, “So this is how you look for poor Desmond?” I shrugged. “We had followed the Unseelie endlessly. Nada. We thought a little bit of … entertainment might clear our heads and open us to new ideas.” I pressed against his firm and erotic hardness and moved slowly and most effectively.

For a long moment I saw that my prince of Dagda couldn’t think. He was responding to my body, and it was more than lust. He knew it, I knew it, and I meant for him to own to it soon … his ethics be damned! “Stop it, Ete. By Danu, you are my sister’s age!” “Stop what, my Prince? And I am older than your sister, who I might remind you has had a lover or two.” I halted the dance suddenly, and before he knew what I was about, I got on tiptoes and put my mouth to his. Gently I prodded his oh so willing lips apart. Sweetly I teased him with my tongue until he gave me his, and then he took over the play. I was lost in his kiss. I think he was as well. He would not have given in to just lust and damn his honor. He was not that sort. This was something more, much more, and he damn well knew it! All at once I felt him stiffen against me as he put his hands to my shoulders. He was fighting this, and he wanted to pull away. I wasn’t going to let him … I wanted more, oh so much more … I knew that Breslyn was close to losing himself to this moment, to my touch, to the feelings I was sure we both shared. I heard him murmur as his hands went over my body. He kept saying, ‘Beautiful, precious love … ’ Then all at once, as though he had heard himself, he pushed me gently away. “Ete … don’t you know, can’t you see, I am a Fae of Honor. I cannot do this to you!” He ran a hand over my cheek and then cupped my chin. “What you have a right to expect from me … what you need … I can’t give.” “You are worried about forever. Don’t. Let us do now.” He wasn’t fooled. He knew I was bluffing. He knew I would never, could never settle for ‘just now’, and he didn’t want to hurt me. He backed away. “Ete, you are so young,” he whispered. “No, I am not. Fae my age have already had lovers … many lovers,” I pointed out reasonably. “I don’t want many … I want one … one special Fae.” I eyed him (I hoped) meaningfully. “We can’t speak of this now. There are serious situations that we have to deal with— Desmond top amongst these,” he responded irritably. “And besides, you shouldn’t be speaking about taking on lovers.” “I wasn’t.” “Yes, you were.” “No, I wasn’t. I said that I want only one lover.” I put up my hand. “Very well, Breslyn.” I was certainly pleased enough with this evening’s progress. I had made my first crack in his armor. It was only a matter of time now. Just time, and we Fae had all the time in the world. “My locator spell was not doing the job though … maybe yours—” He interrupted me. “If you two hadn’t gone off like a couple of half-wits, you would have learned that the Unseelie in question may have had the Fae Relic, but he does not have it now, and he certainly does not have Desmond!” Breslyn snapped. He had taken my hand and was weaving us through the crowd of people towards his sister. Aida danced up close and personal with an attractive man and had not even noticed his arrival. Now she smiled dreamily at him, “Hello, Bres.” “Aida … come, we are for home.” She started to pout as her brother reached over and took her hand. A moment later he had shifted us off.

Just as we vanished from the scene, Aida and I noticed that her dance partner looked around. His hand went out as though to catch her from falling, and then his hand went to his head, a look of great consternation on his face. He knew he had already had more than a few ales … but … hey? Aida and I couldn’t help but giggle.

~ Eleven ~ I HAD EVERYTHING UNDER control in the kitchen. Steaks ready to go. Salad done. Dressing stirred, potatoes were double baking with a sprinkle of cheese. I took off the apron I had put on to protect my pretty black dress. It was J. Crew, and I love the way it hugged my figure. It made me feel sort of ‘in crowd’ hot! I loved its low scoop back and its deep V bodice. I wore a simple gold chain and matching hoop earrings. I brushed my bright hair until it sparkled white gold in the dim light and piled it on top of my head. It was nearly seven. I had a tray of cheese and crackers, and a bottle of wine open and breathing, which was good. Something should breathe—I sure wasn’t—and oh my … I could hear his footsteps. He was coming … down the hall … to the kitchen. Okay, Willow, you are on. He appeared at the pocket door and stopped. We both stopped. I was staring. I mean outright, no hiding it—staring! My eyes did a virtual tour of him, head to toe, and honestly I can’t tell you if I put my hand to my heart because it stopped or because I thought it might. No man ever had this effect on me. Timing I have been told was everything. Perhaps it was time for me to be interested in a man, and standing before me was one heck of a man! Apparently while I was looking him over he didn’t notice, because I realized with some headiness that he was doing the same to me. I don’t know what he saw, but I will tell you what I saw. To die for hunk! His presence loomed and devoured the air space. Layered black, shiny hair fell about his chiseled, handsome face. Thick, dark lashes around eyes so full and vibrant with the color green, you almost believed they had been enhanced. Shoulders a woman could lean on. A chest a woman could touch and kiss and lick … He was wearing a soft short-sleeved simple but beautifully tailored white collared shirt opened casually at the neckline just enough to tease. He had on charcoal-colored silk pants. His legs were long and muscular. His dark gray belt was braided leather and had an unusual silver buckle, engraved with what I knew were ancient runes. No time to think about that now. Now—I had to stop myself from panting. Was I panting? I felt like I was panting. I think this man had made me pant. You don’t understand—I just don’t do panting. “Exquisite,” he said as he came forward, took my hand and put it to his lips. “Style,” I managed to counter with my hand still bent (and burning from his kiss), as my finger pointed his way. He is your boss, I told myself. He is dangerous, I added. There was no question he was the ultimate breaker of hearts. I didn’t want to be added to his list. This one, Willow, I shouted at myself, won’t linger. He didn’t look like he would linger. He will bed you and be gone before daybreak. That was what he would do. What you have always wanted is lingering. I looked at him steadily, and in that moment, I

thought I understood the lure of one-nighters … I turned away and dove for the safety of the cheese tray. I think I shoved it at him as I said, “Are you hungry? Try this with the crackers …” I watched him put down the tray and pour the wine. “Did you enjoy your … hot bath …?” he asked softly. I wondered how he knew. Of course … he might have heard me filling the bath before he left on his errand? I suddenly lost my voice, so I nodded and then managed, “Yup. Bath, good bath.” He smiled and his Irish accent caressed my name. “Ah, then … Willow.” He handed me a glass of wine and moved towards the window seat. “Come …” He patted the spot beside his totally mind-bending self and said lightly, “Tell me, Ms. Lang, did you have a good day in town?” Uh-oh! For anyone else, this would be a safe topic of conversation. However, I had become a monster killer today. Yup, monster-killer, that’s me. Can’t talk about that. Had to cut out a good portion of my time in town. I wasn’t put on guard because of his casual question. I was on guard because the question brought it all back to me … and now, I had to keep it close and hidden. I could see Shayne Bantry frown over my hesitation. I hadn’t meant to hesitate, but there you are. Guarded, that was I, and it showed, at least to someone as intuitive as Bantry. I still stood. He patted the window seat again, inviting me to sit with him, next to him, squeezed in with him. I put my glass down at the long kitchen table and took a chair facing him. I didn’t trust myself to sit all cuddly close to him. “My day in town? Fun. Yup, good fun,” I answered. “How was your day?” His green eyes narrowed into slits for a moment, and he studied me. I was surprised by it. What in my response was there to make him look at me like that? “I am sure very ordinary compared to yours …” Shayne Bantry said on a forced light note. Huh? Again he surprised me. What did he mean compared to mine? Why? What did he know? He couldn’t know I had turned into an Unseelie executioner. Holy shit—or did he? No. Did he have the ability to see Fae? Had he seen me kill a dark Fae? Naw, he couldn’t see Fae. Breslyn would have known and told me. Sure, Bantry knew about the Fae … but knowing about them and being able to see them were two different things, and then I remembered, I was a Fae and he didn’t know or see through me. I was happy for that. I didn’t want Shayne Bantry to lump me in with all the Fae he claimed to despise. I didn’t want him to despise me. I had to recoup myself and find my footing. I felt guilty. Did I look guilty? I had killed something larger than my ordinary kills, which are bugs and only when they are invading my space. I knew some of me felt guilty. I made a solid attempt at shrugging the feeling off. “If you can call shopping … more than ordinary.” I took a long drink of wine and got up to put the steaks in the oven. He talked softly at my back about some antiques he had located and shipped off to his auction house in London. “It must sound like dull work to you, but I do enjoy it. There is something extraordinary about finding a piece of art from ages long past used by an old civilization …” I turned then and exclaimed, “Dull? Oh no! It is the same with my love of classical easel paintings. Each one depicts another age, another time. They solve mysteries if you

look long enough at the strokes and understand what drove the artist …” “It is why you put such effort in your work to restore them.” He said softly, “You have a great passion for what you do.” His knowledge of what I did was extensive, and art dominated the conversation through most of the dinner. I had a chance to speak about his horses, and my love for the animals and the sport, and he quickly told me to see Daniel about matching me to a mount. He grinned all at once. “He’ll be much happier about you riding a horse than driving one of my vehicles.” After dinner he piled the plates in the sink and filled it with hot water. I repeat: he piled the plates in the sink. I hadn’t expected him to do anything remotely like housework. He said we would just let them soak and then he led me to the library. There, he poured a couple of glasses of blackberry brandy and handed me one. The glass was delicately etched and lovely, and it helped to stare at it instead of at him. His fingers brushed mine as I took the glass from him. What was happening here? What was he doing? This did not feel like a normal flirtation. Something else was moving him. I felt like I was on high alert. Something, I didn’t know what, was off kilter. I moved away and went to study one of the paintings on the far wall. It appeared to be a family portrait. He came up behind me and said, “Great-great-grandfather Patrick Bantry.” “The artist captured mischief in his eyes,” I said with a smile, for it was true. Greatgreat-grandfather Patrick looked like a handsome Irish rogue always ready to play. He chuckled. “I’m told that until he met my great-great-grandmother he was the very devil himself.” I smiled. “And how did she bring him to ground?” “Love—my father said that all it took was one look at my great-great-grandmother and it was all over. She owned him.” He released a short, rueful laugh. “My dad seemed to think that was the way of it for all Bantry men.” He threw down his drink and moved away. I watched him a moment as he poured another. Oh yeah, something was going on in his brain, and whatever it was had him really unsettled. What could it be, and what did it have to do with me? That same something told me that it did … I was still working on my brandy and declined more when he held up the bottle. I strolled away then to look at some of the books on the many shelves housed on either side of the long garden windows. There was raw, electric sensation between us. I could feel it; did he feel it? Was it my imagination? Was it my fantasy? Oh no—was it my fantasy? His voice was soft, casual but almost too casual to my finely tuned ear. “Do you have any friends or relatives in Ireland, Miss Lang?” “None that I know personally, but I think my grandmother has some relatives still living in Belfast. I thought before I left Ireland I would take a trip up north and look them up.” “Well, if any of your friends visit Ireland and wish to visit you, they are, of course, most welcome here.” He inclined his head. “I don’t want you getting lonely.” He moved closer to me. His eyes swept me from head to foot in a way that made me want him to come closer. He put down his drink on a nearby table. He looked at me with a question in his eyes,

but he didn’t ask it—I sensed that he was holding back. Should I use my Fae power to probe his mind? No. I wouldn’t do that. That wouldn’t lead, couldn’t possibly lead anywhere good. Besides, what if he did dabble in the dark arts? He might have a few tricks up his sleeve and catch me at my probe. Then what? No, no … not probing! So, how did I find out what the hell he was getting at? Just wait, said my inner self. He wanted to take me somewhere, but where? And why? I looked at him and frowned, and when I finally answered him, I was cautious. “Well, I can tell you I am not homesick yet, and with Bridget and everyone being so kind it sure hasn’t been lonely.” Inexplicably, I saw a flicker of annoyance shadow his face, and then it was gone and he touched me. His large, strong hands had my shoulders. I shivered. He slid his hands down my bare arms, and my mind became blank as my body began demanding more. “I don’t know what to make of you, Willow Lang,” he said almost irritably—coldly. “What does that mean?” I retorted, as annoyance dashed cold water on my heat. “You know what I mean.” “No, I don’t.” This seemed ridiculous. “Yes, you do,” he answered irritably. There was no gentle teasing in his tone. There was no soft flirtation in his eyes. There was no attempt at seduction. I stiffened. “Well, you are wrong. I don’t have a clue what you are talking about.” I emphasized each word. “I have always prized honesty in the people I deal with. I don’t often get it, but I thought you were … different.” He said gravely, “Have you been honest with me, Willow Lang?” “Honest—I don’t know why we are having this conversation. Do you doubt my credentials?” “Don’t be absurd. I am speaking about our day-to-day dealings with one another, and so I repeat. Have you been honest with me? It is either yes or no.” Confusion made me doubt the moment. “Look, I really don’t know what this is all about. I work for you, yes, I …” He still had my shoulders, and he gave them a very slight shake. “Little fool—it isn’t your work.” I pulled out of his hold because now I was angry, and my foot stomped without my permission. “You know, Squire, it would help if you just tell me what you want to know.” “Would it? Let’s see how you answer, Willow Lang … Let us see how honest you can be.” I was outraged and cut him off. “No, let’s not.” I was ready to walk out. He reached out and grabbed my arm, this time none to gently. “Stay … just a bit longer … or are you afraid to answer my question?” “Afraid? Just what is wrong with you?” I again pulled away from his touch, and I placed my hands on my hips. “We were speaking about honesty.” “Were we? It feels like something else.” “For example, you said the other day that you weren’t seeing anyone …? Was that an example of your honesty?” Okay, I had been angry. Now, I was stunned. Just whatever was going on here? I

mean, it was wham, bam, am I seeing someone? What? What was he trying to discover? He was definitely insinuating that I had lied to him. Why? Did his convoluted mind think that if I lied about having a steady lover, I might lie about other matters? Was that what this was about? First of all, his premise was completely wrong. I had told him the truth, and besides it wasn’t even any of his business! My dander was back up. I was unused to answering to anyone (except Granny and Dad). I hadn’t lied, and I was extremely offended. I stiffened and stepped back even further away from him. “Did I say that?” I returned coolly. “You did,” he answered me, his eyes narrow and the tone of his voice now an open accusation. A true sneer crossed his face, and the lights in his green eyes were alive with his agitation. This made no sense to me. What was he talking about? I didn’t often lose my temper, but the little hairs at the nape of my neck were bristling, and I wasn’t taking much more. “And your point?” My cold reticence got his back up. He shouldn’t be so upset, but he was. I might work for him, but he had no right to know about my private life, even if I had lied to him— which I hadn’t! Friends, lovers … that list was privileged information. I didn’t ask about his private life. For all I knew he had a different girl every single night of the week. Well, maybe not every single night. He had been out with me last night, and he was here again with me tonight, but I knew what I meant! “Ah, maybe we don’t understand one another? Perhaps I haven’t been clear about the definition of what I meant by … ‘spoken for’ when the question was put to you.” He casually waved his hand. “So, let me be more precise now. The question on the table was whether or not you were involved with someone. Now, allow me to pose a new question to you, Miss Lang. How much of yourself do you offer up before you consider yourself involved?” He had snapped. I saw it. He hadn’t meant to go this far; something had prodded him on, and he had lost it. I was as puzzled as I was angry. I mean, what century was he from? I couldn’t imagine where this was coming from, or what the hell he was talking about, but I felt the insult in his tone, and outrage flooded my mind and took over. I was flabbergasted. Was he propositioning me? Because if he was, it sure was a unique and utterly ineffective style. I almost spluttered as I attempted to reply to his absurd question. He was an arrogant brute who had turned a lovely evening into a nightmare. It figured. I sure could pick them. First Valtye and now Shayne Bantry! I know my chin was up because my jaw felt stiff and pointed. I started for the library door, determined not to dignify his damned question with an answer, but as I reached the door, I couldn’t stop myself from coldly, and loudly, retorting, “How much do I offer? I suppose you mean to a potential lover? Is that the question you are posing to me, Squire? How much do I offer up a potential lover without committing myself entirely to him? Hmmm. Let me see? How do I answer a question like that? Oh, I know. Who are you? Who do you think you are? What has that question have to do with my qualifications for the job you hired me to do? What has a question like that have to do with the qualifications of even friendship? So, let’s get back to the question. Right. You want to know what I offer up. The answer to that would be none of your business. Good night, Squire Bantry.” I didn’t precisely slam down my glass, but it went down hard on the wall table, and I

was out of there. The evening (the likes of which I had never experienced before) was over! As I took the stairs to my suite, I was so ready to pack it up and go home. I was never a quitter though … so instead, when I got to my room, I did the very next best thing: I threw myself on my bed and burst into tears.

~ Twelve ~ “ETE … PAY ATTENTION to me.” The queen lifted my chin and looked into my eyes with a soft smile. “Yes, my Queen.” I was daydreaming about my prince. I came back to reality with a sigh. “I need you to concentrate on this.” “What, my Queen?” “We are going to use the Balor’s Eye to look into the Dark Realm again, and your power combined with mine will help.” I was both surprised and a little proud. I felt my eyes widen. “Yes, my Queen.” “I have the power to do this on a limited basis, and I also have the ability to look in undetected, but it would drain me … for too long, and I must be at my sharpest in the months to come—so I need you, Ete.” “What do you wish me to do?” “I need you to keep up a shield around me while I scan the Dark Realm. We won’t be able to go in for long, because Queen Morrigu has put up shields around her palace that are quite effective. I suspect she put them in place with the concern that the Dark King might look in on her. A witless, useless effort. There is not a shield created that he can’t penetrate.” She waved this off. “I don’t know if after this we will ever be able to go in again, so we must get this mission right this time.” “I will do whatever you ask, my Queen.” “It will take a great deal out of you. You will feel fatigued and depleted afterwards.” “If it took all of me, I would do as you ask, my Queen.” She hugged me to her then. “My dear young Ete … beloved cousin.” She called Balor’s Eye to the table and began the chant. I stood behind her and recited the words she had taught me not so very long ago. The moment we entered the Dark Realm of mist and shadows, I felt unwell, but I kept the shield up around us. It was as though we fell into an abyss of fog, and then, we were in Queen Morrigu’s private chambers, and Gaiscioch was there. Looking at him brought it all back to me. I felt a shiver shake me as I remembered Gaiscioch’s hands on me … taking me hostage not so long ago. I shook myself free of the fear. I am a royal and as such have been trained for battle. A warrior who does not know fear, however, does not know how to protect herself. I looked at Aaibhe then. She was so beautiful. She was all light and goodness, and in Balor’s Eye, the Dark Palace was all gray and filled with malevolence. It was stark in contrast to everything we are as Seelie Fae. However, I had to put such thoughts aside, as I concentrated on the shield and watched my queen. We Seelie Fae have the ability to produce a shield against intrusion. It was why we cannot probe one another. However, we can read body language so much better than humans can. I suppose longevity has taught us to understand the nuances the body expresses when one is intent on disguising the truth. However, we also enjoy and utilize illusion so often that truth sometimes is of no consequence.

I don’t feel that way. I was taught to prize truth and to incorporate illusion cautiously. My prince, my beloved Breslyn, is much the same. However, I digress. What the queen did was study the scene. Gais was using Morrigu, of that we were certain. He would have Morrigu believe that he could be relied upon, and we both knew Gais looked at Queen Morrigu and wished her dead. I could see it in his eyes and the twitch to his lips when she purred for him, asked him to return to her arms. He thought her insatiable. It was obvious from the expression on his face. The wonder was that she did not see it. Indeed, humans say that love is often blind, and I suspect that is true, even for the Fae. Gaiscioch was anxiously running his hand over his long, slicked-back, midnightcolored hair. He was scowling, and his movements were agitated. Living there in the Dark Realm, after eons in our world of light and color … he must think himself in hell. He moved away from their enormous bed and heedless of his nudity walked to stand and stare out their balcony doors. There wasn’t much to see out their glass doors. Their world was one of shadows, lifeless, barren, twisted trees, dusk, and fog. The trees the Dark King had once created here were left lifeless after his abominations sucked out all their nutrients. They stood warped and as barren as the landscape. The sun was never seen in the Dark Realm, and Gaiscioch’s expression was one of disgust. I was absolutely certain he despised this world and its inhabitants. I had to wonder if he still thought it all worth it. Queen Morrigu watched him with a lazy eye. She interested me. I have always heard that she was one of us, a Seelie Fae that followed our Seelie king into the Dark Realm when he mortally wounded our dear Queen Bridget. He was struck with remorse, and he banished himself to a world of his own creation. I studied her and was certain of it. She was Seelie. Had she gone with him for love? Had she gone with him because of her part in that awful war—had she been afraid to stay in the Seelie Realm? We could see that she was enamored with Gaiscioch. He was, I have to admit, a fine figure of a Fae warrior, better than any she could ever hope to have trapped in her ugly Realm. She was admiring him silently. She got up (also naked), and slowly went to stroke the long silver streak in his black, silky hair. I suppose she found his air of authority and mystique stimulating. “Come, Gaiscioch … come back to bed.” “I cannot. There is a piece of the puzzle that is missing. I must have it, and I must find a way for us to enter the human world.” “You will. The Dark King’s mirror—” “Has not worked for us.” He cut her off impatiently. “It is as though it does not recognize the Seelie in me.” He shook his head. “It is a Seelie Relic. It should welcome me, but it does not.” “Our Relics, you know very well, take on a different purpose after time, and this Relic was from the time of Bridget …” “We must find the right chant. We must find the right method to entice it to open.” Morrigu sighed. “You must offer it proof, perhaps?” Gais’s eyes narrowed. “What proof?” “I don’t know.” She sighed heavily this time pulled on his arm. “Come to bed, Gais …

forget this now …” “What do you know, Morrigu, that you are not telling me?” he demanded harshly. Morrigu looked at him, and I saw she felt hesitation, and a flicker of fear. She said quietly, “It opened for me … only for a short period of time … and that was a very long time ago.” “What? How?” “I was bored. I wanted to look out onto the human world, and the Dark King had once said that I could use the Mirror to do just that.” She looked away from Gais as she continued, “It wouldn’t open, and so I thought perhaps I needed to prove I was Seelie Fae. We lose something in here after a time … something of ourselves … and the Mirror had picked up on that and initially denied me access.” She reached to stroke his cheek, and he pushed her hand away roughly. Morrigu stood back, but I could see she was angry. “You are not being nice, my love. If you are not nice, I don’t have a reason to tell you my secrets … and I have many.” Gais immediately saw the error of his way and went to her. He took her into his arms and kissed her hard and long, and when he pulled away he said softly, “Morrigu, I beg you excuse my mood. I am frustrated.” He smiled at her, and I have to admit, his smile was charmingly seductive. “And Morrigu … frustrating me, does not improve my mood.” She laughed and touched him affectionately. “No … that would never serve either of us.” “Now … the Mirror if you please, my beauty.” “Yes, my love. It is the Seelie blood, you see. That will identify you and open the Mirror to the human world the Dark King loved at one time. It will not, however, allow you to pass through and stay at will without something else. I have never discovered what else it needs.” “What happens when you attempt to go through?” “It pulls you back, almost immediately.” Morrigu sighed. “When I stepped through, everything was so beautiful. I had nearly forgotten … and just as I thought I might stay, it yanked me back. In recent years it hasn’t even allowed me a look into the human realm … my blood no longer works. I have been here too long, and its mana has changed.” Gais grew thoughtful. “Seelie blood will open it. Blood will allow me to look where I wish in the human world … but it will not allow me through. What then?” “Perhaps a secret chant. I have searched the king’s private journals, but I have never found anything useful.” “Still … this is something we can work with. Why did you not tell me of this sooner?” His eyes were slits of suspicion. She shrugged. “I really didn’t think it would serve.” She could see he was angry. We could see he was furious and restraining himself. He was not in love with Queen Morrigu. We knew it; how could she not? I thought about what Breslyn said about Gaiscioch, that he had dived into madness. I could see it in him, but it barely touched his surface. In spite of the mad obsession, he was a brilliant Fae, and his strategies were well thought out. However, he had nothing in him but his calculated need for revenge, and it invested everything he did, warping the perfection of his plan and making it vulnerable. Somewhere in his plan was a weakness that we would be able to use to our advantage. We just needed to know what that weakness was …

“Come, darling … come back to bed,” she cooed to him softly. “The mirror is the key … for both of us. Morrigu, you are Seelie … I am Seelie. We will have to use the mirror to give us passage to the human world, as your glorious Dark King has made it impossible to leave without Aaibhe’s direct command.” He shook his head. “When the trackers raced in here after me … I thought then that I would be able to follow them out … but the walls would not let me near the portal.” It was clear that she was heartily bored with all of this, and she sighed. “We have been over this, Gais. You know that you cannot leave without Aaibhe’s leave … or the code.” “What code?” He jumped on her. “I don’t know. The king once said there was a code that only he and Aaibhe knew. He said that I may never leave because of my wicked essence. He said that he would not unleash me on the humans …” She pulled a face. “Miserable madman!” During their conversation, I realized that neither Morrigu nor Gaiscioch seemed nervous about the Dark King’s return. Just where was the Dark King? Would he help us if he returned in time? No one ever knew what he would or would not do. Was the Dark King’s beloved woman still alive? If she were, would that fact help us in some manner? She was human and would care about our realm—wouldn’t she? There had been so many rumors about her. It was said that she had been abducted by the Dark King’s enemy, and killed, but I doubted that. I think with his power, no one would have been able to kill his human love. “Aaibhe …” Gais said softly, “ … you have me trapped here, but not for long. Not for long. I am coming for you.” Gais spoke as though no one else were in the room. Morrigu stomped around now out of temper. “All this, all because of her—Aaibhe. You are still pining for your Aaibhe!” He looked at Morrigu, and his eyes narrowed. He moved towards her, roughly took her long, dusky hair in his hands, and bent her before him. “I dare take what is mine. You, Morrigu, are mine, and she should have been mine. You will rule beside me—she will serve at my feet.” She softened. “And will you—will you kill her in the end?” “I will make her grovel at my whim … and keep her until I have tired of the sport.” I glanced at my Queen Aaibhe to see her reaction to all of this, but her beautiful face gave away nothing. Morrigu pouted. “I don’t like that. She is too powerful. We need to kill her as soon as we may.” “Not your decision.” She pouted again. “However, my decision to send my army through the portals you will open is mine alone to make.” “Do you think so?” Gais smiled wickedly at her. “Ask them, this army of yours, whether they would stay when I command them to go through.” She saw the truth in what he said. The Dark Monsters wanted out. They wanted to feed on the humans and in the human World. She put up her chin. He softened the moment by putting his arms around her. “Morrigu … you came here to be a queen, and instead you are a prisoner presiding over monsters. When you come with me, you will preside as queen over the Universe. That is all you have to know.” He smiled at her and drew a smile from her. “My Seelie brethren are seriously outnumbered. They will not be in a position to put up much of a fight against our hordes of monsters. They will not be

able to contain them, and the humans will never know what hit them when it does.” “There isn’t much time before—” “Time enough, and the drones have been useful,” He said, cutting her off, and left us wondering, before what? “I will kill your precious Aaibhe on sight,” Morrigu said suddenly. “And then join her in death,” Gaiscioch snapped. “Why … why would you want her? She doesn’t love you … as I do.” “Because she doesn’t love me, in spite of my adoration and devotion … I would have her ruined, belittled, tortured.” He looked at Morrigu. “And you will watch!” “Yes, I like that.” She purred. “I would have given her the world. Instead, she gave my Ireland, my Scotland to the humans. I would have cherished her. Instead she set me aside as though I was naught and took a human Druid as her consort. She would have brought him to Tir …” “I will fight at your side, Gaiscioch … Do not discount my affection, as she did yours,” Morrigu said suddenly with an edge of steel. He regarded her and smiled. “I like when you speak boldly, my dear.” Suddenly and with a frown, Gaiscioch looked up and around as though he knew we were watching! The queen immediately shut down Balor’s eye! “By Danu,” I breathed. “My Queen, he sensed us, did he not?” “Not quite, but we will not be able to risk doing this again.” “But, we didn’t learn enough,” I wailed. “Oh, but we did. Quite a bit, my dear.” And after she let me in on what we now knew, I have to tell you, as I have in the past, that my queen’s intellect and powers are formidable! *** Willow Lang, you are a fool, I told myself and pushed my pillow away as I tossed one more time. Sleep came in fits of short dozing. Dreams turned into nightmares, and the nightmares had felt all too real to be forgotten. The night’s encounter with Bantry had been a disaster. I felt (for no reason that I could pin point) humiliated. How would I ever look at Shayne Bantry again? I wasn’t sure how I should behave. I wouldn’t look at him—that was for certain. Behave? I was here to do a job. I would do my job, and I would keep my distance. End of story, and that swept me up in a black cloud and left me stranded in a wasteland. It would work, I told myself. I just had to keep my eyes to myself. Must not look at him. Not even a quick glance. That was the ticket. No looking. Just before it was time to get up and out of my bed, I fell asleep. However, even that bit of sleep didn’t help me rid myself of the fatigue I felt all over, but it was Sunday and I had things I wanted to do like clean up the kitchen from last night’s mess. Couldn’t have Bridget coming in on Monday to find a collection of dirty plates. Besides, it would look like a ‘dinner for two’ thing, and it so didn’t turn out that way. But when I arrived at the kitchen, there was not one single dirty glass or dish to be found. I was astonished, really. I mean who expects a brute of a buck to clean up after himself? If I cared it might be an interesting thing to think about. But I didn’t care, and I wasn’t thinking of Bantry!

I brewed some coffee and downed two cups while I threw together a sandwich. Today I was getting out … way out. I was going to hike to the Killarney National Park. It was a little over three miles to the area known as Muckross Lake—the middle lake where I wanted to explore. Even as ‘worked over’ as I felt, a good long hike there and back was just what I needed. And then, all at once, I was homesick. I was homesick for my granny. And I was missing my dad. Where was he? He had never stayed away from me this long. If he didn’t come see me soon, I would shift over to Tir and find him. Oh boy, I didn’t want to go to the Isle of Tir … especially all by myself. Maybe it was time I told Breslyn about my father and asked him if he knew where he might be? An hour later, I put down the local newspaper after reading an article about a rash of murders that were beginning to look like the work of a serial killer. I so didn’t think that was the case. In fact, I was pretty darn sure just what was causing the hike in homicides! This meant there were more Unseelies roaming about Killarney. I didn’t believe I was real hero material … at least, I never thought of myself like that in the past, but out there, monsters were torturing and devouring people. I could see the monsters, and I had the means and the help to do something about it. One more thing to discuss with the prince. I had my lunch and bottled water packed in my backpack, and I took up my map. I was ready to go. As I walked to the kitchen door, I tied my little navy cotton sweater round my waist and headed out. I studied the map as I took a shortcut through the woods. It was not a perfect day. There was no sign of sunshine, and the clouds looked like they thought it was time to dump a little rain. Never mind—a little rain wouldn’t hurt. Matched my mood. Oh but I loved Killarney. I loved the air, the green everywhere you looked, the stretches of forests full with oak trees and yews. I stopped short when I came across a small herd of Irish Red deer in the distance and just watched them as they grazed. They saw me and stood still, their ears flickering for a sign of danger, and then they loped off. Absolutely and completely enchanting. If I didn’t know better, I would think I was in Tir. I had been walking for nearly an hour when I reached the outskirts of Muckross Lake, the deepest of Killarney’s three lakes. I found myself holding my breath. This lake, these mountains stretching towards the heavens, were as it had always been: Nature’s testament to magical beauty, to the Earth, to life, and I was awed by its (I know it sounds corny) majesty. I just couldn’t move. The top of the mountain was craggy and splattered with rocks, as the trees did not reach the peaks. The lake below the high peaked mountain rippled and promised mystery in its darkest depths. There were small islands dotting the lake scene, and as I watched the birds going about their daily business, it seemed like I was the only person out there. That was the end of my very fine morning! It came to me on a wave of vanilla and pine and something else I could not name. It came to me and softly whispered, “Come.” There was a siren’s song on the breeze, and I started moving towards the call. “Home …” I heard a sweet song’s call. “Willow … Willow … home.” I knew what this was. It had happened to my mother when I was young. It was why the queen had agreed to give us the elixir of immortality. My mother was a very special Shee Fios, and she had a gift. I inherited that gift from her. The Fae prized us because of that gift—they didn’t have it.

Fae Relics are scattered all over Earth. It happened during the time of third Invasion. The queen and her Council dispersed their most precious Relics and their Hallows over the Earth to keep them safely out of the hands of the invaders. My mom could detect the Fae whether they were disguised with Glamour or invisibility, and she could sense all things Fae, including the Relics. Fae could not sense their own Relics. Like Mom, I could. Right. Told you I was a freak. Not only half-human, half-Fae, but a sounder as well. That was what my mom called it. She would say, “Do you hear it, baby … the sound …?” And I did—loud and clear. We found two Relics before my mom died, and my dad took them to the queen. I always thought that was the main reason he was given the elixir of immortality for us. The queen recognized our skill as something that could benefit the Fae. My granny is not a ‘sounder’, but she is a Fios with the power to resist some of their magic. It seems I got everything. The human in me is a seer, a sounder, and a resister. Like something out of The Wizard of Oz! Okay, so that brings me to the ‘sound’ I was picking up, which came in singsong fashion and the wafting Fae aromas of vanilla and pine, slightly different than Breslyn’s intoxicating scent. I felt its vibe and moved towards the shore because it was across the lake. I saw a cave made of limestone, and the Relic called from deep within that cave. Shit! Double shit! I was not crazy about going into caves, especially alone. Why was I being plagued with giant insects and dark, dangerous caves? This was not what I had come out for this morning. I had wanted to leave my confusion and problems behind. Now I was being faced with a whole new set of same. It kept on calling. It made me feel as though it was a child in need. I wasn’t going to have any peace until I got to it. I couldn’t quite make out the shape of the cave, but I had a vision of bats, spiders, and God only knew what. If I could have, I would have made an about-face and made my way home to the manor. But that child-like voice … So I didn’t have a choice. I am a pushover for babies, animals, and all things helpless. I stared at the cave across the lake while the Relic sang my name. It knew my name. How weird was that? The lake was way too cold and too long across to swim this morning. I could walk, but it would take too long with that thing blasting in my head to walk all the way around to the cave. That left one method of locomotion. Shifting. I looked around. No one about that I could see. So, I shifted. For me, it is always travel mode of last resort. *** I stood at the mouth of a long, dark limestone cave, and the song blared in my head. I went right to where it was hidden in the sand and started digging it out with a flat, jagged stone. It kept singing my name in low, sweet tones, like a child trying to get its mother’s attention. Bingo! I pulled it out. It felt like metal. I uncovered it, brushed off the remaining grains of sand, and looked at what was obviously a tarnished silver portion of a mask. On it was ornately inscribed, ‘Anam’. The singing subsided into a satisfied purr. Well, it looked like I was going to have to go to Tir after all. I sighed and made my way out of the cave, and as I stepped out another

few feet I looked around and noted that the sky had darkened. My morning was nearly gone, and it appeared as though my afternoon would be dark and stormy. I had looked to the left and right and straight ahead. It never occurred to me to look up! Suddenly with a loud whoosh I was no longer standing on terra firma. I closed my eyes. Was I hallucinating? Was the Relic having some kind of effect on me? I was being lifted bodily into the air! I couldn’t speak. I was trying to breathe. I felt momentarily so bereft of my senses that I believed if I opened my eyes I wouldn’t be able to see. His voice was musical, gentle and with a lilt, he said, “Don’t be afraid, Shee Willow … I will keep thee safe.” Okay, this was real. My eyelids fluttered, and all of a sudden my eyes were wide open. I heard my own intake of breath as he said, “Ravishing little being … your violet eyes slay me.” Okay. Who was this stunningly beautiful Fae? Wait, what was this stunningly beautiful Fae? Why were we in the air? Because he had wings—large, iridescent, tinted white, twenty-foot amazingly fantastic wings! He was a Fae that was different than any I had ever encountered or even been told about. He had wings. Huge and lovely, powerful wings—Fae don’t have wings! I was cradled in his strong arms. We were high in the sky. Time to faint—I so wanted to faint. This was too much. He chuckled lightly and said as though reading my mind or my face, “You won’t faint. You are stronger than that … and why would you want to? You are with me.” He didn’t get it. I wanted to faint because I was with him. I wondered idiotically if this was where the stories of Fae with wings got their start. Of course he wasn’t little … oh my, not little at all! “I am wi … th … with … you?” I managed to ask, “But who … are you?” “It is a shame that our kindred Tuatha Dé do not teach their young about their Daoine Sidhe brothers and sisters,” he answered with irritation. “Daoine? You are Daoine?” I squealed. We were in fact taught a great deal about them, but we rarely if ever were given a glimpse of them. They were the highest order of the Tuatha Dé. It was rumored that our Queen Aaibhe was a descendent from the Daoine who sent her to take over the crown when the old dear Queen Bridget had been mortally wounded by her husband … the Dark King, in battle eons ago. I knew that the Daoine were unimaginably powerful, that they were disdainful of humans and our way of life, and that they thought themselves the keepers of nature. Still, I had never imagined any Daoine with wings! “But … but … you have wings …” I blurted out on a hushed tone. He laughed as he flapped his wings, and I held on to him for dear life. His chest expanded and he said proudly, “I do. I am the last of my kind. I am all that remains of the House of Sluagh.” He sighed. “But it is not for lack of trying …” His rainbow-colored eyes looked at me intently, and I squirmed. He laughed and then sobered. “So, you have found what Gaiscioch ordered his blackguard drone hide for him. I am pleasantly surprised in you.” “Are you?” “Indeed, child. My Queen Mab sent me to guard it from all but you. She said Gais would be coming for it. My mission was to watch over you whenever you leave Bantry. I

was most happy to comply with her wishes. It allowed me to serve my queen and my need to foil any and all of Gaiscioch’s plans. We have a bad history, Gais and I.” “Do you?” I thought that if I kept him talking perhaps I would survive this day (remember—in the air). “May I ask why?” “There is a Seer, a Druid priestess … who is now someone I call friend. An odd thing, for I am Daoine after all and she but a human. However, Maxine is worthy. Gaiscioch came to me in Daoine not so very long ago. He needed my assistance, and in exchange for my help, he promised Maxine to me. When the time came for him to deliver, not only was he unable, he was lowly enough not to come to me and offer his apologies. He did not hold up his end of the bargain, and he offered me grave insult. That was unwise of him, don’t you think?” I sure did. I nodded vigorously. “You and I … we … are simpatico, Shee Willow. That bodes well.” I nodded again and thought that perhaps I could ask, “Is there a reason why … you and I … are … up here?” He laughed. “Indeed. Your scent will be in the cave. The human in you is strong, but the Fae is as well. Even if you shifted, it would leave trace amounts of your scent behind. I do not want Gaiscioch to track you back to Bantry Manor.” The Sluagh smiled broadly. “He will be baffled, and he will be angry. He needs this Relic. It is only a piece, one of four pieces, but he could have used it, and now, he can’t.” “How do you know Gaiscioch will come for it?” “He must, and he has found a way to leave the Dark Realm for a very short span of time.” “Then, will you take it to Tir and Queen Aaibhe?” “No.” I was surprised. “Why not?” “My queen does not wish her to have it, yet. They have matters to work out.” “Then, are you taking it to your queen?” “No. She does not wish to directly withhold it from Queen Aaibhe, who is her aunt and dear friend.” “So, the rumor is true. Queen Aaibhe is Daoine,” I said thoughtfully. “Of course—how else could she have such unlimited powers?” “Then where are you going to take the Relic, and could we have this discussion on the ground?” I looked down at the passing scenery and wondered in fact if I were dreaming. Maybe I had fallen and hit my head? He laughed and stopped in mid-air. His wings were whooshing, and he maintained his hold on me as he arranged me in a dance position. I had my arms clenched around his neck. He was smiling. I don’t think I was. He had his hands around my waist, and we descended to the grass below. I assumed we were cloaked with invisibility—otherwise a hiker or two was getting an eyeful. “Is that better, Shee Willow?” he asked softly. He had me in his arms, and I was pressed right up against his body, which was quite masculine even in his white short toga skirt. His upper body was naked except for the gold and silver torque around his neck. His hair was nearly white, streaked with gold, and I could see he was looking at me with seduction on his mind.

Males are the same in every race! With all their aloofness Fae are very lustful beings, and it would appear that even the higher caste of Daoine were charged with sexual hunger. I tried to keep him in check with a friendly smile as I pulled a little out of his hold. I still clutched the Relic to myself as I asked, “Okay, then Daoine Sluagh,”—I had no idea how I should address a Fae of his status—“what are we going to do with the Relic?” “I like you, Shee Willow, so I will allow you the liberty to question me. To answer you, I must first point out that it is dire that you realize how important this find is. Do you realize that?” I nodded. “So then, you must also realize the Relic chose you?” It did call my name, and it did purr to my touch. However, I thought it best to just wait for him to continue. He seemed to like my reticence because he took my chin and murmured, “Beautiful Tuatha Dé child.” He sighed. “Aye then, so you must feel its glow between us … yes, I see that you do. It will be just fine with you in your personal care.” “With me? Oh no … I don’t need Gais coming to Bantry in search of it.” “He will not know where it is.” The Daoine Sluagh shrugged. “And besides … he has not yet found the key to remaining on this side of the Mirror.” He eyed me. “Little Warrior, you are braver than you think you are. However, have peace of mind. Remember that I told you, it is why we took to the air. He will not be able to follow your scent.” “Yes, but I am not really a warrior … new to this you see …” “You are a warrior. It flames in your eyes. There is no retreat in your essence. I see that you will fight with but one goal in mind, to victory.” Did he see all that? Whew! I sure didn’t. As I took in his words, he shrugged once more and smiled softly. “Besides, I have already spelled the Relic. Gaiscioch will not immediately be able to touch it even if he were to discover its location. It will be safe in your keeping.” “I don’t know … such a responsibility …” “Ah, but you and the Relic are already, shall we say, comfortable with one another. It purrs for you, Shee Willow. You heard its call and you went directly to it, did you not?” “Yes, but—” “You accepted the responsibility of locating it, and guarding it, because you understood the significance of this piece, in spite of your human trepidation.” I started shaking my head. “Please … I am not up to this.” “You shall take it to Bantry and hide it within your room. Gaiscioch cannot enter Bantry.” “Why not?” “As my queen wished, I warded the manor house with a specific protection spell against Gaiscioch. First of all, he will not know it is there. Secondly, you are safe within its walls because there is not an Unseelie monster, or a Seelie traitor that has ever been created that can break my wards. And thirdly, the mirror fragment he has used to enter the human world will close within the hour and pull him back.” I sighed. All bases seemed covered. Right, then; I guess I could handle this. “Well … if you think that is the wise course, but I will be honest with you. I will not keep this a secret from Breslyn.”

“Breslyn? You call the prince of Dagda, Breslyn?” He waved this off, and then with his chin up he demanded, “Why will you not keep secrets from the prince?” “Because I promised him first, before you and I met, that I would help him against Gais. Besides, you two are basically working for the same outcome. There should be no secrets between the two of you either.” The Sluagh snorted. “You are an innocent to politics.” He eyed me narrowly. “The prince and I have history as well, but that is another story … also involving Maxine. Never mind for now. Tell him what you must.” He put a finger to my chin. “From now on you, Shee Willow, you must call me Deimne.” He said this as though he had confirmed an enormous privilege on me. I closed my eyes and bowed my head (instinct guided me—I sure wanted this Fae on my side). “Thank you, Deimne … I am honored.” He beamed. “You are a lovely Fae child. Perhaps when this is over you will allow me to give you an aerial tour of the world?” “Again … I am honored.” I was staying non-committal on this. He bent and dropped a light kiss on my lips. He stepped away and said casually, “I like the taste of you, Shee Willow.” With a sudden whoosh he was up and suddenly out of sight. I looked around and wondered for a moment where he had deposited me. Well, I couldn’t go traipsing into the manor house with the Relic sticking out of my backpack, so I shifted once more—to the safety of my room.

~ Thirteen ~ SO MANY THINGS were happening so very quickly! That was my first thought after I dropped my backpack onto the Oriental rug and collapsed with my arms spread out onto the soft green and comfy chair near my balcony. I looked at the tarnished silver piece now slipping out the corner of my pack and flicked a finger. It wasn’t tarnished anymore. Yup. Magic. As I have said, I can do all things Fae. Magic is built into my blood. I don’t engage in the art often under ordinary circumstances, but these were not ordinary circumstances. It was crazy, but the more I found myself involved in these way-out Fae affairs, the more Fae I felt I was becoming! Still, Magic (even light magic) was a dangerous thing. First of all, it was addictive. The more you do, the more you end up doing. It was so easy to just flick your wrist, or think of what you want and, poof, it was done. It was not a healthy way for a human to live. However, I was beginning to realize I was not just human. No matter what I did, no matter who I was with, I was also Fae. Secondly and probably a really good reason not to use magic, was the fact that Fae can trace one another on the scent of their magic. It gives off something akin to an electric vibration, and a Fae, like Gaiscioch, can trace it. I would have to be careful. I sighed over the notion and over the fact that my life lately was so much more Fae than human. That was not what I used to want. I liked being human, or pretending to be anyway. I liked the fact that humans didn’t know I was a half-breed and therefore didn’t typecast me the way the Fae did when I was younger. So many things had changed so quickly. The Sluagh—a Daoine—did not look down his nose at me. In fact, quite the opposite. I had so many things to think about. I had so many things I did not want to think about. I had to balance them all. And once again I used magic. I flicked a finger, and the Relic was in the palm of my hand. As I ran a finger over its dents and scratches, it smoothed itself. Not me this time. Got that? I didn’t do it. It did it to itself. Oh yeah, it repaired itself in my hands. You see the problem was that Fae Relics are infused with magic. Magic, even light magic, is totally unpredictable. Therefore, you could today take up a piece of Fae Art and spell it to protect the Irish yews of Killarney, and that was what it would do for a time. However, if left to its own devices, over time, especially great stretches of time such as a thousand years or so, that magic would grow, turn on itself, grow some more, and become something greater, more powerful, and perhaps, just perhaps even dangerous. I knew that ‘Anam’ meant soul, and I was wondering just what its original purpose had been. At any rate, it might have changed, become evil as did some magic Relics, but … nah … the thing purred. How could that be evil? Purring things just weren’t evil. I continued to stare at it, and then his wonderful vanilla, herbs, and pine scent preceded him and his voice softly said my name. “Hello, Shee Willow.” The Relic slipped behind me into the crease between the seat cushion and the back of

the chair as I turned towards him and breathed with relief, “Breslyn.” The relief I felt that he had arrived was all the invitation the prince needed. He was on me in a flash, lifting me out of the chair and into his arms. His mouth was covering mine and his tongue was demanding comfort with desperation and a need I had never sensed in him before. Something was wrong with him. It was like a living, breathing thing spilling out from his head, filling his eyes, bursting from his gut! I sensed it—hell, I saw it, and I knew it had nothing to do with the state of the union, or me. The prince was at odds with himself. He was suffering some inner turmoil. It was something personal, and he was looking for an answer. Had he come to get that answer from me? Well, if he was going to give me mind-bending kisses, I wasn’t going to be able to talk, let alone help him solve his problem. If I haven’t said it yet, let me say it now: kisses from Breslyn, Prince of Dagda, are absolutely toe-curling experiences. He is everything a woman could want in a lover. He gives of himself as he slowly takes from you. He makes you feel like the most sensational woman in the world. However, today I knew he wasn’t kissing in the name of love or lust. He felt lost and needed a connection. I had seen it in his wonderful ancient silver eyes before I got tangled up in his sensational embrace. I pulled away gently and said his name again. “Breslyn?” He heard the question in my voice and took my hand to lead me to the balcony. We took up an uncomfortable wrought iron loveseat there, and he put my fingers to his lips as he stared out over the manicured lawns and pristine gardens. “Things are moving along dangerous roads for me, Shee Willow.” His words were hushed, and I had a notion there was a double meaning behind them. I took his huge yet sensual hand to my lips and dropped a friendly kiss (I swear it was just the kiss of a friend—honest) on his fingers. “Tell me, Bres. What is it—what is wrong?” He smiled and tried to dismiss it from his demeanor. “Nothing and everything.” He sighed. “I wanted to see you … to touch you …” “No. It wasn’t that, and I know it. It was something else altogether. Come on, Bres, let it out and be done.” I smiled encouragingly at him, and when he steeled himself, I tried again. “It’s why you are really here. You need to talk … I am a good listener.” “I am at odds with principles I hold dear. I am torn between my honor and …” He sighed and clammed up. “Come on, Bres … tell me what this is all about. Maybe I can help?” “What would you think of a prince of the royal Fae who did not adhere to what he held important?” I shook my head. I had no idea what he was talking about. So I winged it. “If that prince were you, I would think you had good reason.” He cocked his head and regarded me for a long moment. “And that would make it acceptable? What good reason could I have for setting aside my honor?” “Honor is intangible. It is important, but there is a difference between doing the right thing and obeying a decent calling. Honor is a principle. Every now and then, principles need to be bent … not broken.” I sighed over this, trying to see if I could make myself understood. “Look, if you are on a mission at the queen’s request, and you are honor-

bound during the course of that mission to maintain guard over a certain area—” “This is different—” “Hush, let me finish. So, you are honor-bound to adhere to your queen’s command and guard the fort, let’s say—” “The point being …?” He cut me off again. “And you see a damsel in distress … she is being brutally beaten by a horrible beast of a creature. Do you maintain your position guarding the fort because you are honor-bound not to disobey your queen’s command, or do you rush in and save the damsel?” “Of course, I save the damsel.” “Ah, where is your honor?” “That is different.” He sighed heavily. “I have often disobeyed the queen …” I laughed out loud. “Honor be damned?” He looked at me and slowly smiled. “I always thought I had cause.” “Did you? But you don’t think so now? Bres, I have come to believe that everything is relative to everything else. Grays, my Prince. Life is a wheel of grays. Nothing is ever black and white. We can’t compartmentalize things. Living things … it doesn’t work that way.” He looked at me, and his eyes narrowed into slits. “I will give this some thought.” “Well, that is more than I can do. You really didn’t give me much to work with.” I smiled at him. I still had no idea what was troubling him. I saw him shake it all off as he said, “Forget my nonsense … it is all nothing. Now tell me, Shee Willow, just what have you been doing, because I have had a very bad day with very bad news to give you.” “What kind of bad news?” “An Unseelie drone managed to locate, acquire, and successfully hide an extremely important Seelie Relic. The queen thinks this Relic is in fact as potent as one of our Hallows. It is known as the Mask of Anon.” “Well then, my Prince. I can cheer you up with some good news,” I answered, jumping up and going back into my bedroom. He followed me into my room. “What? What good news could you possibly have that would alleviate this new problem we are faced with?” I was nearly grinning with delight at the thought of what I was about to tell him. “Well … as a matter of fact, I have better than just news.” “Do you, Willow?” Breslyn humored me. I was overflowing with pride. “Yup.” I flicked my wrist, really happy to use magic, really happy to be a Fae. The mask fragment appeared in my hand, and I held it up for his inspection. I exclaimed like a child, “Ta-da!” His silver eyes glowed, and he gasped with pleasure and astonishment as he reached for it and held it high. Then he turned his stare on me to ask, “How, when … where?” “Very good questions—it happened earlier this morning. I was minding my own business—not Fae business, not human business, but my business. I took a walk to the Middle Lake, and all of a sudden the Mask …” I pointed. “Started singing to me … singing … and the song was littered with my name. Imagine my dilemma?” I paused and noted that the prince listened intently and that his beautiful mouth was slightly open, as were his wondrous eyes. I rather thought that he was wearing exactly the correct expression, and I was well satisfied, so I continued, “Precisely. I shifted to the mouth of

the cave where the Relic was still singing—” “Get to the point, Shee Willow!” The prince cut me off sharply. “Yes, well, at any rate, it was singing until I dug it up and then—and then, Breslyn, it purred. I came out of the cave, did I mention that I hate caves, bats, and spiders? I was in a cave. Came out … whoosh! He says he is the Sluagh … a Daoine. He has wings. Up— up and away.” I was still satisfied as I witnessed Breslyn’s astonishment. “That’s right. He said his name is Deimne and that Gaiscioch’s drone must have hidden it for Gaiscioch, who means to use some kind of mirror to get out of the Dark Realm. Apparently Gaiscioch and Deimne have ‘history’ so he—Deimne—is on our side. He says Gais won’t be in our realm long because the mirror will pull him back …” Again I was pleased to see that Breslyn was agape with pure astonishment, so I continued. “I suppose until the traitor can figure out how to stop the mirror from pulling him back he won’t be able to successfully use it. So Deimne flew us, both of us, he and I, and the sacred Relic off, and away, in the air—and Breslyn … did I mention I was in the sky … me, off the ground—so that Gaiscioch wouldn’t be able to pick up on my scent, and … well, here it is. Deimne wants me to hide it in my room. He says he has warded the place against Gaiscioch, but I don’t know. I would much rather give it to you.” I frowned. “He doesn’t want me to do that though … says you and he have history as well, and he doesn’t want me to give it to the queen yet either.” Out of all this, the first question (in a tone of total disbelief) Breslyn asked was, “He told you his name? The Sluagh actually told you his name?” He was obviously impressed. “Yes, and he has wings, very large wings, and he is very unusual looking … He says he is the last of his kind … how does he happen to have wings? Fae don’t have wings. I never saw a Fae with wings before.” I knew I was blabbering like a lunatic, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Willow … do you know how much he has honored you by giving you his name?” Apparently Breslyn was stuck on this point. Actually I did know, but I had moved on to other matters. “Yes, well … I guess we bonded up there in the sky.” Breslyn stiffened. “Bonded?” I laughed. “I didn’t say we had sex, fella … I said we became friends.” Breslyn relaxed and sighed. He still held the sacred Relic. I took it from him, and it purred right out loud. A great many things had flabbergasted my prince. He stared at it and said on a really hushed note, “It is purring for you.” I petted it. “I suppose because it knows I will keep it safe until it is reunited with its other parts.” “Yes, well … I should take it to the queen.” “You may not, Bres … I promised Deimne.” “But—” “No. I don’t want the Sluagh angry with me. He expects me to keep it safe until Queen Aaibhe and Queen Mab have some kind of powwow. He didn’t quite say that, but it is what I am guessing he meant.” The prince frowned. He took a turn about the room and came to stand and face me as I stood in the opening of the balcony doors. “Very well. Come then, put it in your closet under the floorboards, and I will spell it so that none may sense or see it.”

I was happy to do that and, once again used magic to accomplish the job quickly and neatly. Then I watched him as he waved his hand over the flooring and chanted in Old Danu. All Fae are capable of amazing magic, but the four royal houses possess magic all other Fae could never dream of understanding. For now the sacred Relic piece was safe. For now. He took my hands, both of them, to his lips and said softly, “I am for Tir and the queen.” I frowned. “Bres, don’t you think you should shift over to the cave and maybe wait and see if Gaiscioch appears? You could kill him when he does, end of story.” Breslyn laughed. “By now, my warrior Willow, if the Sluagh is correct, the mirror has already pulled Gais back. He has already discovered he has been robbed of the Mask fragment, and he has been pulled back into the Dark Realm.” Bres was deep in thought, and then clipped off, “I must hurry and see our queen. I have to keep her updated about all these occurrences. She was very worried about the Mask—I must tell her that our Shee Willow has one piece safe.” He laughed right out loud and chucked me under the chin. I felt like a child who had just been awarded first prize. I couldn’t help but beam like a brainless sot and sucked in my bottom lip. He flicked my nose and said admiringly, “Willow … my own Shee Willow, you don’t realize what a task you have accomplished. We knew that the drone had taken possession of the mask, and we searched for it without any luck.” He shook his head in some wonder. “Now I truly understand a great deal. My queen said you were a force we were lucky to have.” “She said that?” I felt a thrill tickle my brain and my heart. “She said that very early on.” I couldn’t stop smiling, and then I remembered that he had arrived in inner turmoil. “Bres, please listen to me. About before … I’m not sure what your dilemma is, but remember, sometimes you have to say, ‘honor be damned’ and go for what you want and need. Sometimes that turns out to be the honorable thing—for all concerned.” He stepped back from me with a soft smile. “Later, Shee Willow … later.” And he was gone. Damn! I had so many questions I wanted him to answer, and I had made up my mind to ask him about my dad. Now he was gone, and I stupidly hadn’t asked one thing. I was getting seriously worried about my dad. Could he have been drawn into this Fae mess? I didn’t like that. In fact, it worried me a great deal. My dad was a musician, not a warrior. I know, I know, he is immortal, but there are ways to kill a Fae, and there are some ways to hurt them as well … Bres never stayed away long, but if he did, I would just have to go to Tir and find my father for myself!

~ Fourteen ~ I WAS STARVING—I needed food. With all the excitement of the morning, I had forgotten to eat the lunch I had packed. I took out my sandwich and water from my backpack and made my way downstairs to the rear patio just outside the library’s French doors. I pulled up a garden chair and sat there in the shade with all the beautiful summer blooms all around me and munched down on my veggie sandwich. There was no sign of Squire Strangelove, so I relaxed. No doubt, he was out romancing one of his many women. For some inexplicable reason that notion irritated me. I took a bite of my sandwich and chomped away. I wondered what sort of women he was attracted to. No doubt they were sophisticated, tall and well versed in the arts—all arts, especially in the art of making love. Again, this set me on edge, and I shoved it from my overactive imagination. It didn’t take long to down my lunch, drink my water, and stretch out my legs. Relax, I told myself. It was Sunday. The weather was glorious; the promise of rain had vanished and had been replaced with a sun that peeked out of the clouds just enough to make it a perfect temperature. My adventure should have left me tired and ready to call it a day, yet I was inexplicably restless. My thoughts would not stop hopping around in my head. When I got like that, I walked or painted. I had already walked, shifted, and ‘flown’, so there was just one thing left. I should pick up my brush and work. It would do me some good, and the sooner I finished my work the sooner I could leave Bantry Manor … I went back into the house, made my way to the solarium, and set my paints and brushes in place. Normally, the very action had a soothing affect on me, but I found I was too distracted. I just needed to unwind from the madness of the first part of my day. That was all, I strongly told myself. Instead, I kept going over my disastrous evening with Shayne Bantry, who was nowhere to be seen … My mind was in a turmoil of confusion for so many reasons and on so many levels. There was something about Shayne Bantry that had made the queen want him watched. I must not forget that. He was, in fact, a total mystery to me. I didn’t know how he thought or what drove him—other than his great love of ancient art. I certainly hadn’t pegged him for the kind of boss that would require his employees to entrust him with their private affairs. What had all that been about? At any rate, I had been quite right to be totally rude. His behavior called for it. So, there was always the chance that he would return and fire me later today. I would have to pack up and leave and never see Shayne Bantry ever again—and that notion made me blink it away. I didn’t want to think about it, but I had to. If I had to leave Bantry … then what? Breslyn said they needed me. Where would I go? A knock at my back blasted all those disturbing questions out of my head. I spun around and felt excitement, anticipation, and then disappointment. I had expected Shayne

Bantry. I covered up my ‘let down’ by immediately offering Roland a welcoming smile. “Hey, Roland, what’s up?” He looked handsome with his wavy curls falling around his hardlined face. He wore a light V-neck sweater, jeans, and sneakers. I reminded myself that I had decided Roland was someone who could be dangerous if I let him too close. He grinned. “I love American slang. What are you doing on this very fine day working indoors?” A little friendly conversation couldn’t hurt, and the way I felt it could actually help. “I was out most of the day … thought I would put in a couple hours of work.” I was going to keep this casual. “Right then, shall we bargain?” He had moved in close, and I looked up and into his nearly black eyes before I thought about it. His eyes were certainly beautiful. “Bargain?” “Aye, bargain … if I go away and allow you to work for a couple of hours, the daylight will be on its way out, and the nightlife will be on its way in.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Hey, I was only twenty-three. Nightlife sounded good to me. Still, I wanted to keep some distance between the flirtatious Roland and myself, so I stalled. “And?” “And, then you will come with me to Killarney, to a very lively pub with some very lively music, and we will share a meal together. Work for you?” I wasn’t sure that this was wise, but a girl couldn’t live by wisdom alone. It sure did, in fact, work for me. Sometimes you just had to say ‘what the heck’ and go for it. However, I hesitated, and he saw it. He laughed and exclaimed, “Aye, then, pretty Willow, I am not asking you to jump into bed with me. Some music, some Guinness, some food … dress casual and I will come for you at seven.” He put up his hands. “No ulterior motives.” “You are a man—there are always ulterior motives,” I said on a laugh. “Then seven it is,” he answered jovially. Roland was at his most charming, and it was difficult to see anything else. I told myself what he had told me. It was just a casual, friendly evening. Music and food, nothing more. Anything would be better than waiting on Shayne Bantry to return and fire me. “Okay, seven it is.” I laughed as he gave me a wink and a bow and backed off to leave me with my work. Take that, Shayne Bantry, I said in my head. My business was my business! However, as I had said this to Bantry last night, saying it now in my head still didn’t help at all. Not at all. *** My name, Shayne Bantry, stands for honesty, integrity, and honor in the antiquities world. When I found myself in this position it set my anger into high gear, and I felt it foaming in my mind. My work, my pride was on the line. Long ago I set aside my family’s fortune and kept it intact. At that time, I had a stupid notion that I would find ‘my only one’ as my father had, marry, and have children. I wanted that estate to grow for them. I wanted to make my own fortune and add to it. I managed with long hours, hard work, and some luck—and in only a few years, I created an empire for myself. I took pride and enjoyment in my reputation. My firm handled only the finest artifacts, and we didn’t deal in reproductions. Buyers that attended my auction house in London knew they wouldn’t be cheated. I

held my reputation in the world of classical art and antiquities to be above reproach. Only the finest experts in the field were allowed to examine my finds and authenticate them. Bantry Auction House had always been considered reputable. I had always been very careful, and I trusted no one. Therefore, it galled me that someone, anyone, thought to trick me. Apparently I had allowed myself to be misled by someone I had thought I was helping. Indeed, it appears that my faith in Roland’s skills had overshadowed the fact that his greed would always outweigh any loyalty to a career I thought he had grown to love. I had felt that my uncle’s side of the family had hurt him by shunning his mother when she married his no-account gypsy father. I had some misguided notion that I could help him, make amends for an act that had nothing to do with me. Well, I was wrong, dead wrong! Once more, Roland had sent me to Dublin on a wild goose chase. I could not fathom the purpose in this ruse. Earlier, at Wilson’s Antique Shop, I threw the antiquity I was holding in my hands onto Wilson’s desk and sneered at him because I couldn’t stop myself. Who did he think he was dealing with? This piece was certainly a mask carved out in the style of the Iron Age, but it was not made of silver, and it was not ancient. It was a reproduction. I couldn’t stop staring at the lowlife that actually thought he could pawn this piece of garbage off on me—at any price. “Did Mr. Omren examine this piece?” I was determined to maintain a sense of calmness and get to the bottom of this offense. “Examine it?” Ted Wilson was a small, pudgy man who had obviously thought he might be able to make a sizeable sum with this piece. I felt my hands form fists at my side. “Now listen to me, because I am not playing games with you or with him, and I have ways of finding out what I need to know. Did Mr. Omren examine this personally?” “Not exactly.” Well, well, so now just what was Roland up to? “Did you?” “No … not until you had already left for Dublin …” Therein was the lie. It showed itself in his squirming. “Really—you call yourself an antiquities dealer? One look—one touch—and it was obvious even without testing the material, that this was a reproduction, and not even an outstanding one at that.” I shook my head. I couldn’t stop frowning. “Were the two of you in this together? Did you think to sell this to me?” “I was only doing what Mr. Omren asked of me. He was looking for pieces of an ancient silver mask. When one of my people found and sent this to me, I thought this was what you were looking for. I called Mr. Omren and told him of my find, and he said that you would want to handle this particular Relic yourself. He said he would pass on the information to you—which he did. You called and left a message for me on my machine saying you would be here today. I never really looked at the mask fragment until a short while ago. Please forgive me—I am usually more careful about these things.” I am no fool. The idiot thought he might pass off the fake and make some money. “You know it’s fraud to try and pass off a reproduction as a genuine artifact, but how you could think I could be fooled with this …” “Honestly, Squire—please forgive me … I only unpacked the piece this morning, and when I looked at it, I realized that I had been duped. I tried to call Mr. Omren, but I haven’t been able to reach him on his cell.”

“Then why not apprise me of the situation as soon as I arrived? You actually allowed me to examine this trash!” He was caught. He was stumped. He was red-faced and moving away from me. He stuttered and began to tremble. “I … I don’t know …” I saw that this question was precisely what he had been asking himself. Greed had over-ridden all other considerations. It was naught. I should let it go and walk out of his shop. I would never do business with this particular dealer again. Time to leave before I lost my control. I slammed the piece down hard on the man’s desk, turned, and stormed out of the dark little shop. Just what the hell was Roland doing? One wild goose chase could be explained away, but two …? Here I was in Dublin once again chasing down a false lead. Why? Roland knew better than to think I could be fooled by this worthless piece of metal. Just what was his game? In addition to my irritation over this waste of time was the matter that was driving me mad. My research had been very specific. I needed as many of the four fragments of the Mask of Anam as I could find. I had two parts of the Mask already, but would they be enough? Roland had absolutely nothing to do with the procurement of those pieces. I had found them by chance during my trip to South America last month. However, he knew that I had them. So then, just what was in his complicated mind? Was he sending me off on false leads while he chased after the real thing? Was that it? But why? Money? That made no sense. I paid Roland very well. I had seen potential in him, and I had wanted to help him. I had offered him a bonus if he found the Mask fragments. What then, if not money? Power? A man like Roland could be driven by the thirst for power. A man like Roland might prize power above all else? I needed the Mask as complete as I could get it for quite another reason. I hailed a passing cab and sat back against the worn leather squabs to pull myself together and think for a moment. What the hell was wrong with me? Why didn’t I just stay in Dublin for the night, start back tomorrow. I could catch up with some of my friends. I had done precious little of that lately. What was the rush to go home? I pulled out my cell phone, speed dialed my flight crew, and asked them to be ready to depart. My pilot laughed and said he had already arranged for our take off in approximately one hour. I was surprised, but not overly. He had been with me a long time. I supposed he was able to pick up on my moods. And what was at the heart of my present mood? Willow Lang—she seemed to be the catalyst of all my moods these days. I didn’t like that, not one bit. It didn’t fit into my life. She couldn’t fit into my life. Yet, she overshadowed every thought. She crept like a vine around my brain and squeezed it until I couldn’t think … couldn’t breathe, and it had to stop. I wasn’t behaving like a rational man around her. I had to pause and ask myself, why? I mean I knew I wanted her. What man wouldn’t? She was a breathtaking beauty, and she didn’t seem to be aware of it; she didn’t allow it to define who she was. And who was she? There was so much more to her than the pretty picture she presented. There was something about her that was an enigma, as though she were holding back on the real Willow Lang. It was at the crux of my complicated feelings towards her.

Last night? I had been a lunatic last night. What had I done? I had ranted at her like … like a man crazed. Where had that come from? There was something more to Willow Lang than she let on, and that ‘something’ that I sensed was making me lose control. She was hiding something … herself … from me, and I wanted to know her. I wanted to know her mind and her secrets. Damnation and bloody hell! I saw her in that man’s arms. They seemed very comfortable with each other. He kissed her as though it were his right! It had made me say stupid things to her. What had I said? Hell! What hadn’t I said? I hadn’t been able to sleep. I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to say to her. No doubt she thought me insane. I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t quit. Maybe I should let her quit? Maybe I should get her out of my life, and out of my head? The notion that she might quit made me frantic. I had to get back to her and stop her from leaving. Then as I thought of what I did know about Willow Lang, I realized she wouldn’t just up and scurry off. That wasn’t her style. I didn’t know how I knew this, I just did. She wouldn’t quit. She would just hold me at a distance. Perhaps that was where I should be: at a great distance from Willow Lang. I didn’t behave normally when she was around. I felt like a fool. How had I dared question her private life? I had almost accused her of promiscuity! Why? Why would I do such a thing? Because I wanted to know who that blasted devil was … no … I wanted to know what he meant to her. That was at the bottom of everything I had asked and said. I wanted to know if her heart was already given. Her love life is none of my business. I wanted to know if the man I had seen her kissing was her lover. And if he wasn’t her lover … what then? He had certainly kissed her with the intimacy of a lover. Suddenly I discovered I was grinding my teeth. I could feel the stiffness of my jaw. Damnation! It would be late by the time I got home tonight. Good. I wouldn’t have to see her. Somehow that thought didn’t soothe me. Perhaps by tomorrow, she would have cooled off and the incident could be forgotten? I should find a way of making it up to her … I would ask Daniel to bring a horse by the courtyard for her to try out when she took a break from her painting. Yes … that’s the ticket. She likes horses. Apology by horse! There. Problem solved. Bloody hell! Nothing is ever so simple.

~ Fifteen ~ THE NIGHT HAD started with me at the front door. I saw Roland as he pulled up to park his old gray Mercedes in front of the stonework steps at the front doors. There he jumped out of the car with a jovial flourish and came up to the front door, which I had opened wide. He had laughed. “Now, this, Miss Willow Lang, is a first for me. I have never had a woman that was ready on time and waiting at the front door!” I laughed with him and stepped out, closing the door at my back. He was already at the passenger side of his car, and he opened it for me with the fanfare of a man who was determined to impress. Our night after that had been what my best friend would have called, really swell. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but he certainly proved to be good company all night. I couldn’t quite talk myself into trusting him, for reasons I can’t put to words. Maybe I am wrong. He was charming, he didn’t overstep, he didn’t try to pry into my private life, and yet … and yet, there it was: the and yet. The music had been mind-bendingly wonderful. Irish music, rock, American country … you name it, they played it. Fantastic! We even danced a few times, and for a big man he was really good on the dance floor. Right, so all in all I felt very kindly towards Roland Omren. At the end of the evening, I gave him my hand, and he pulled me along to the front door of Bantry Manor. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but we both laughed. I had dressed in a black silky top that didn’t quite reach my low-cut jeans. It fit nicely. To finish off the look I wore a pair of black heels. I saw the smile of appreciation in his black eyes when he met me at the door earlier this evening and then again in the pub when I turned heads. He looked pretty sexy himself and was a jovial and flirtatious companion, and he kept his word and did not try to make a move on me. Right, so here we were at the front door of the manor. Here we were at the moment of truth: to kiss or not to kiss? I had quite made up my mind not to kiss. Roland was just the sort who would try and take it further, and in spite of the lively, fun-filled evening, I wasn’t ready to head in that direction with Roland Omren. I believe he sensed it. Right, back to the front door. He took up my hand and put it to his lips (very allowable), and he whispered my name. “Willow … I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did?” “I did, Roland … very much. Thank you … it was just the sort of evening that I needed.” He pulled me in closer to him without dropping my hand. I put out my free left hand against his chest. The door opened at my back!

“Ah … Roland … Ms. Lang—I thought I heard voices.” Shayne Bantry’s green eyes were dark as he surveyed the scene, and his thoughts hidden. I studied him while he glanced at Roland, but I didn’t have a clue as to what he was thinking. I saw that he had already made a decision regarding the meaning of Roland and me at the door at this hour. I felt a blush creep into my cheeks. I felt a whirl of explanations enter my thought pattern and be harshly dismissed. I didn’t have to explain a thing to him. Even so, I suddenly felt desperate to escape. I told myself with an inner groan that he probably thought that Roland and I were getting involved. I didn’t want him to think that. Why? I don’t know why. I just didn’t. “Roland … I would like to see you first thing in the morning.” Bantry’s tone was grim. Roland’s dark eyes narrowed. It appeared he knew that something was wrong and that it had nothing to do with me. “Ah …” Roland said without smiling, “ … your trip did not go well.” “You must have known that it would not.” Bantry contained his anger, but it was obvious, to me at least, he was over-the-top outraged with Roland. “I see,” was all that Roland answered as he turned his attention once more to me. “Good night, pretty Willow … sweet dreams.” He spun around on his heels, got into his car, and squealed off. I couldn’t move for a moment. This incident was not what I expected at the end of my lovely evening. It seemed every time Shayne Bantry entered a scene, so did the drama! I turned and started to go past Bantry and into the manor. He stopped me with, “Ms. Lang?” He hadn’t put a hand on me, and yet I felt physically detained. I turned only partially and said, “Yes?” “Could you spare me a word … in the library?” Okay—here it comes. He was going to fire me. He would say that he brought me here to work, not to flit around with his employees and distract them from what they were supposed to do, and he would say, yes, that was his business, and perhaps it was. Oh shit, I wish I had made it up to my room before he knew I was home. Damn and double damn! “Sure,” I said on the low note I really felt. He frowned and waved his hand gently for me to proceed before him. I did. I think I stalked the hallway, my mind in a whirlwind until I reached the open library door. There was a fire burning in the grate, and because I loved this room, I felt a quick moment’s comfort. And then he was behind me and my nerves came to attention and my blood started racing through my veins and my lungs seemed to cut off my air supply. “Please, Ms. Lang … take a seat,” he said softly. I sat. I don’t know why. I should have stood and taken it on the chin, but I didn’t. I sat. I didn’t speak. He did. He offered me a glass of sherry or anything else I might like. I couldn’t think, so instead of asking for a Bailey’s, which was my favorite, I took the sherry. Fine. Wasn’t thrilled with sherry so I drank it down. I know you are supposed to sip. I didn’t. Bam, it was gone, and I handed him my glass for a refill. I saw his eyes widen, but he refilled the glass and handed it back to me. I sipped it for a moment until he started to speak. I downed the second glass. I felt

better. I smiled and handed him my glass for another refill. He took it and said quizzically, “Are you sure?” I couldn’t speak, so I nodded vigorously. He poured only half a glass and said as he handed it to me, “Try sipping, Ms. Lang … you might enjoy the flavor?” “Hmmm,” I said and sipped a steady stream down my throat. There, I thought, that is better. Calmer now, much calmer. I sat back on the comfy leather chair. He eyed me a moment and I smiled for him to proceed, so he started with a doubtful look on his handsome, oh so handsome face, “Ms. Lang … apparently I entered a conversation with you last evening that was inappropriate.” He paused. I drank some more sherry. He frowned as he watched me and then continued, “I would like to make amends and start over … if you are amenable.” “You were rude,” I said with a nod and a smile, and then for no gosh darn reason, I giggled. I can only attribute it to nerves. I had heard myself speak and was pretty sure I was slurring my words. Aha, the sherry (not to mention the Guinness at the pub) was catching me, tickling me, and making the room rosy. I put down the glass of sherry and then looked at it and discovered it was empty. I stared at it a moment, and when I looked up, I found him studying me. I smiled like an idiot and waited. “Yes, yes, I was very rude. I would like to put it behind us—” “Yeah, yeah, I bet you would,” I answered and gave him a hard look. I wanted my job. I didn’t want to be fired for a whole lot of reasons, some of which I wasn’t ready to explore, so it was a mystery why I continued to badger with a wagging finger. “Your problem …” I slurred, “ … issh that you are probably too nos-eee. Yes indeedy, noseee … here you are, what … waiting up for us … coming to the door to see who was bringing me home …” I was bombed enough not to know when to stop. “Noseeee …” He stiffened. “Do not flatter yourself, Ms. Lang. I wasn’t waiting up. I had only just arrived a few moments before you. I heard Roland’s voice and meant to catch him before he left.” His words stung. ‘Don’t flatter yourself’, he had said. Right. He was right. Why had I opened my big mouth? Why hadn’t I just accepted his weak apology and just let it all slide? I was still sober enough to give him a comeback, “Flatter myself? Why would having you interested in my comings and goings be flattery?” Not bad if only the words hadn’t been so darn gone mushed together. I made an attempt to get up, wobbled on my heels, and fell back onto the chair again. I giggled and made another attempt. This time he was at my side, propping me up with a strong arm and saying quietly, “Steady, Willow.” I looked into his oh so deep green eyes and felt my knees start to give out, “Thanks …” I managed to whisper. He helped me walk to the hall and the grand staircase. “Never mind …” he answered gently as he helped me to the stairs, and then added, “I hope I didn’t ruin the obviously enjoyable evening you had with Roland.” “Roland was a perfect escort and gentleman, and he didn’t ply me with too much alcohol!” I was still slurring, and I looked up at the flight of stairs with a heavy sigh. “Ply you with alcohol? I didn’t make you throw down your sherry, and how would I know you can’t hold your liquor?” he snapped. “Uh oh …” I answered as I contemplated the stairs.

The next thing I knew he had scooped me up like a babe and was carrying me up the stairs. I didn’t say a word, but I threw my hands onto his shoulders and held on. A woman was at a grave disadvantage in that position. It might be romantic when you are being carried thusly by a lover, but this was my boss. I mean, you couldn’t just let your head fall against his chest, or nibble at his neck, or …? No, you had to try and stiffen yourself against all intimacy. Not easy, especially when the man doing the carrying was the hunk of all hunks! He kept me there—in his arms, cradle like—opened my bedroom door, entered my room, and used his foot to close it at his back. I wondered for a fleeting moment why he had closed my door when he was still in my room. And then I looked into his eyes, and my thoughts got lost in the heat that was teasing my body. He was big, he was strong, and he was ever so gentle as he placed me on the lovely quilt of my bed. I looked at him as he sat next to me and stared down at me. He was devastatingly sexy with his dark hair falling about and all around his hard-lined face. I wondered what it would be like to have his mouth on mine … I managed to slur, “Kind … you … bring … my room …” “Was it? Then store up some points for me the next time you think me unkind.” I giggled and said, “Points? Okay, Big Guy.” I licked my bottom lip. I did it deliberately. I couldn’t stop myself as I shot him a calculating look. It must have been a damn sexy look, because I saw his reaction at once. I heard his intake of breath. Oh yeah, it must have been a real come-hither look. I saw his warm green eyes get dark with desire, and I let my tongue linger on my bottom lip, and then rest in the corner of my mouth so that he could see it. It was an invitation to him to kiss me. I guess Guinness and sherry had blasted all inhibitions, because I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t that drunk, just a little off balance. I wanted him to kiss me. He took the invitation. I heard him curse softly, and then he bent my way. His sensuous lips made a seductive trail from my ear, to my throat, to my nose, and then down to my mouth. He parted my lips with his tongue, and I was on fire. I had never felt so wanton before. He nibbled at my bottom lip and tasted my tongue with a slow rhythm as he tempted a like response from me. My response was spontaneous. My body filled up from my toes to my head with carnal desire, blatant and allconsuming. I wanted his kisses to go on and on … and then all of a sudden he stopped and pulled away! His hand took my chin and with his deep Irish brogue sent shivers through my veins. He whispered, “Do ye think me that kind of a man.., Willow Lang? Would I take advantage of ye now …? Ah woman, now when the liquor has caught ye? I would that ye would know me better.” He dropped a kiss on my nose and got up. I watched him back away, and then he was gone. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t think, and I couldn’t stop wanting him in that moment. He was gone, and I was on fire for him. I clenched my thighs and turned over with a groan. The alcohol and the time of night should have sent me off to la la land but it didn’t—at least not right away. All I could do was think of him, of his hot kisses, and then finally when I fell asleep, I started dreaming, and it was of Shayne Bantry’s rock-hard body and his … !

~ Sixteen ~ “ETE—STOP FRETTING over my brother. He doesn’t really want Willow Lang!” Aida sighed as she wagged a finger at me. “I’ll see you later,” I told her and shifted off. I needed a diversion to lift me out of my blues. I shifted to Ireland’s lovely Muckross Lake. The Unseelie drone we had been attempting to locate was at the mouth of a cave near the lake, and standing with him was Gaiscioch. I nearly gave myself away as I gasped, but I was quick-witted enough to immediately shift to another dimension before either one could sense me near. This was big. I had to watch and listen to every word. Gaiscioch was clenching and unclenching his fists. He had called the Unseelie to him to report, as he hadn’t been able to find the Relic the drone had hidden in the cave. Gais was beyond frustrated. He ranted about having picked up the scent of a human woman inside the cave, but then nowhere else. He growled, then screamed for the drone to return to town and investigate. “So I shall, and in the meantime, I have found a man who may prove useful …” “Have you? What have you offered him?” “A place in the new regime.” “Indeed. That was not your place to promise such a position,” Gaiscioch responded furiously. “I knew that, but nothing less would draw him in.” “And this human—what can he do for us?” “He has been searching for the remaining Mask fragments. I have promised him money and power, and have given him enough of an advance to convince him he will get more when he delivers …” “How did you find him?” Gaiscioch wanted to know. “He had employed gypsy magic. Even hours later I was drawn to the unmistakable scent of it on him in a pub.” Gaiscioch’s eyes narrowed. “Good—he may prove useful. Go and find him. We must have the mask fragments.” Gais suddenly looked around, as though he sensed that he was being spied upon. I shifted off for a moment to yet another dimension and heard him talking before the mirror he had used to enter the human world pulled him back. “Drone—I need you to send through a human woman … get her ready and bring her here.” “May I ask why, my liege?” “This time you may. I believe her blood is required to open the mirror permanently to travel between the worlds.” “Yes, I shall do this, but there is another matter I must mention.” “And that is?” “One of us … has vanished.”

“What can you mean?” “I am not sure, but I believe my partner, Zioc, has been killed. I know you will not credit it, but I think he was killed and disposed of by a human.” “Impossible.” “I saw a female human standing over his body with a death hallow in her hand. I am not capable of shifting to another dimension so I hid. She must be a Fios, and she stood with a Seelie prince in human Glamour.” “By Danu! Who was she? Who was the prince?” “I know not.” “Find out, you imbecile.” “Yes, my liege.” And then as the Mirror pulled him back, Gaiscioch released a long, hard, frustrated shout, “Noooo …” and then he was gone. *** I woke up with a start. Oh no … what had I done? I’d behaved the fool for the squire of the manor who was also my boss—that was what. I got sloshed, and he had to carry me up the stairs—how absolutely and totally humiliating. And there was more. As though that wasn’t enough, what then did I do? I practically begged him to kiss me! I mean okay, he didn’t object. He got right into it, but it was at my open invitation. I didn’t grab him against his will and pull him onto the bed or anything, but I sure did give him a real big old ‘come on, honey—come and get it’ look. He didn’t though (come and get it, that is). Just one incredible, delicious, never to be forgotten kiss, and then it was so long, kiddo! I held my head in my hands. Not because it was aching so very much (although it was), but more like it was cracking into a zillion pieces of china. That’s right, I felt like a broken china doll definitely falling apart. Who was that wild woman last night? It couldn’t have been me. I didn’t get wild. I didn’t go about killing monsters. I didn’t kiss Fae princes (well, perhaps in my dreams). So, what had I become since I arrived in Ireland? Was this the real me? Apparently Willa Cather was right when she said, “There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.” I had learned a whole lot in my quiet years. Now, overnight, I was learning a whole lot in an ongoing hell of a storm! There I had been in New York with a respectable job that I loved. I had my life in order. I had men categorized (to a tolerable extent) and at arm’s length until I could figure out what I wanted. I had been steady, I had been whole, and I sure hadn’t been kissing a Fae prince one moment and my boss the next. Holy cow—just what had happened to me? Only a short time in Ireland and everything I thought I knew—everything I thought I was inside—no longer held true. Now, I was spinning circles and getting nowhere—or was I? It was early. It was still dark. I forced myself up and into the shower. I really had to get downstairs, have some coffee, and scurry my ass over to the Solarium. I was going to bury myself in work and not think. No, no—thinking, bad; no thinking, good. Less than an hour later, I was sipping coffee and slowly coming down from the insanity of my waking hour. I put my brush to canvas. It was a beautiful piece. It was a

Bantry family portrait that the squire had pointed out was over three hundred years old. The signature was unclear and Bantry did not know who the artist had been, but its style was softly alluring. Unlike most of the portraits I had worked on, this had been set in an outdoor arbor. Working on this would be a snap. Just what I need this morning. I heard a sound at my back and turned. It was Bridget, and I gave her a big smile. It seemed like forever since I had seen her, and I had missed her. “Hi, Bridget.” She came in with a tray filled with a fresh pot of coffee and a platter of biscuits, butter, and jam. “You can’t be working all morning on an empty stomach, child.” She set the tray down and came over to the easel. “Oooh … now, I never saw that one. Lovely, isn’t it?” “Very.” I took up a biscuit, buttered and jammed it, broke a piece off, and popped it into my mouth. “Oh, Bridge,” I said after swallowing, “ … this is wonderful.” “They should be. I made them fresh this morning.” She smiled and gave me a long look. “How was your weekend?” I heard something in the question. Ah yes. Bridget’s husband was the gatekeeper. They lived in the gatehouse. They saw comings and goings. Aha! They had seen Roland and me go and then return. Was that disapproval in her eyes? I smiled. “Well … I did some hiking over to the Middle Lake. I went into Killarney and did some shopping, and let me see—oh yes, Roland was kind enough to take me to a local pub in town where I drank Guinness, ate a wonderful pub meal, and danced to great music.” “Aye, I thought as much.” There was most certainly disapproval in her eyes. I knew she didn’t like Roland. They had issues. She wagged a finger at me. “You be careful with that one.” “Oh, I quite agree. Arm’s length,” I answered her with a smile. She seemed satisfied with my reply but continued to wag. “Not far enough—keep him well away, love … well away.” “Don’t worry, Bridget, I am on guard.” I squeezed her hand, and she flushed with pleasure. “Good on ye, child—stay that way. Take a break at lunch and come to the kitchen … we’ll eat together then.” “Oh, I would love that.” “Good. Around twelve then, aye?” “Perfect.” She left me then, and I finished the biscuit and another cup of coffee and turned back to my easel. There was this thing that floated around in my head. It nagged at me to pay attention. It was something I remembered during the night. Something I heard Roland and Shayne arguing about that first day when I listened in on their Gypsy Romany conversation. Shayne had been very annoyed with Roland regarding the procurement of a Fae Relic. He had said it was in four fragments. It suddenly dawned on me—the number four … The Mask was in four fragments! Roland and Shayne were searching for the Mask fragments. That was the Relic they had been talking about. Shayne Bantry was after as many of the four fragments of the Mask of Anam as they could get. Now, my question to myself had to be: why? What did Roland want with a Fae Relic? Could he use it in Dark Magic …? He could. Fae Relics had a power, a magic that could

be deformed and misused in the wrong hands. However, I didn’t think Roland was capable enough to use a Fae Hallow, but Shayne Bantry? Yes, Shayne Bantry was just the man to handle such a thing. Shayne Bantry was into black magic … Shayne Bantry despised the Fae I am Fae. This last thought sank in and drove my mind into an abyss. For a long moment, I couldn’t pull out of it. And then I shook it off. I had to think. Okay then, question: what would Roland want with a Fae Relic? He was into money. It could fetch a hefty sum. If he found it and, instead of turning it over to Shayne, found the right private collector, he could become independently wealthy. Okay. Easy answer. Roland’s game was fairly simple and obvious. He would sell out to the highest bidder. The same question in regards to Bantry did not have such an easy answer. Just what sort of game was Bantry playing? What were his stakes? He sure as heck didn’t need money. He seemed to have a great deal of power. So just what did he want with the mask? Power was a word that meant different things to different people. Those with power never seem satisfied. They want more. Those without power and who want it will surprise you with what they are willing to lose just to obtain it. However, I just didn’t think Shayne Bantry was looking for more power. My instincts shooed this notion away. My human inner voice scoffed at me and wagged a finger to whisper that all men want more power. Perhaps, but still, I did not think that was the case with Bantry. There was something else that drove him. He wanted the Fae Relic for something else entirely, but what? Were we back to money? That just didn’t make sense either. I had read an article on him in a magazine lying around in the library. He was one of the top billionaires in the world. He had sounded more than anxious to get a hold of the Fae Relic. I was sure of it, but why? What would make a man like Shayne Bantry desperate for anything? Perhaps it was so basic I was overlooking the answer. Perhaps it was that he was a collector of Fae Relics, and I had misread the resolution in his voice? Perhaps, but what I heard between Roland and him a few days ago in the library when they had been speaking in Romany had given me the sense of a man razor-sharp with need. What drove a man like Shayne Bantry? A man like Shayne Bantry? That was a laugh. There wasn’t another man alive that was like him … Suddenly, I felt or rather sensed a parting of the airwaves as the cosmos around me made room for the prince of Dagda. He had shifted right up close and personal. “Hello, Shee Willow,” he said softly. There was no denying Breslyn’s pulsating sex appeal. From the start he had called me Sidhe (Shee), which means Fae, as though he wished to remind me who I was. I found that I liked it. He drew a smile from me. He always did. He had a presence that said, Naughty boy here. Come play. I will please, and I promise not to hurt you. He had a twinkle in his silver eyes, and that twinkle breathed a warm and silent invitation to move into the raw exoticness of his arms. He had an aura that promised comfort and protection, and well, he just absolutely always made me smile. I released a sigh of relief that he had finally arrived. I needed to speak with him about

so many things, and then immediately that relief gave over to anxiousness. “What are you doing here in the Solarium? Someone will see you.” “No, they will not see or hear me.” He took my hand to his lips and whispered simply, “Féth Fiada.” He pulled on my hand gently, bringing me closer, and his arm was already encircling my waist. He moved in for a kiss. I put my hand between us because … because … hell, I didn’t know—I just did. “None of that. I need to talk to you.” He must have heard the stress in my tone because he stopped at once and asked with concern, “What? Has someone bothered you? I will smash them into the earth—I will lay them so low they will wish they were dead!” You see what I mean about my prince? He always says all the right things. Very comforting guy—fae. “Breslyn … I think the squire has been looking for the Mask fragments, and I believe he may already be in possession of one or two pieces.” His well-shaped thick eyebrow arched, but he did not seem overly concerned. “Ah, one must wonder why he would be interested in the Mask.” “Precisely, I thought you might know?” He frowned. “I do not.” “Doesn’t it worry you?” I was surprised. “No. My sense is that you will have the situation under control.” Inwardly I preened. “Does the queen know why Shayne Bantry wants these fragments?” “She may, but more to the point is, when will she be ready to let me in on that piece of information. Thus far, she has withheld something from me about this priest. I have not been able to fathom what that ‘something’ can be.” Breslyn went quiet as he slipped into thought. “So there is something,” I said on a worried note. The time had come to look for my dad. That consideration out-weighed everything else. I touched Breslyn’s massive chest, which was bare at the moment and very enticing. I found myself moving my hand across his sculpted abs, to his biceps, one of which was banded in ink, a decorative intricate tattoo of Celtic knots and runes. “Breslyn, I have a favor to ask …” “Ask it and it is yours,” he said without hesitation. I smiled and started, “My dad has always kept in touch with me because he knows I won’t go to Tir … but I have not heard from him in weeks and I am very disturbed about it.” There, it would soon be out and he would know I was that little ten-year-old girl he had been so kind to thirteen years ago. Thirteen years was the blink of an eye to an immortal Fae. “And why wouldn’t you go to Tir?” Breslyn, who seemed genuinely astonished at this statement from me, zeroed in on it for an answer, putting my request aside for the moment. “Because … Breslyn, I am only half Fae … and there are Fae who think less of me because of that fact. My experiences when I was in Tir when I was younger were … very uncomfortable.” He touched my cheek with the back of his hand and whispered, “My poor beauty. Who made you uncomfortable? Tell me so that I may make them regret it.” “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” he insisted. “What matters to me right now is the fact that I haven’t heard from my dad in nearly three weeks … and that is very unlike him, so I am getting worried.” “Who is your father, lass?” “I know he is a friend of yours—or at least, you know him. He is Desmond Lang.” A troubled expression flickered in his silver eyes but was gone before I had the chance to really think about it. He took a step back as though I had slapped him. He was staring at me with disbelief. Then he hit his forehead. “Of course … that is why you look so familiar. I met you when you were a child … when your father brought you and your lovely mother for an audience with the queen.” He stepped back into my space and tilted my chin. “You were supposed to come to me when you reached maturity. There was a matter we had to discuss regarding the elixir of immortality. You never came …” “I haven’t met Fae or man that has made me lean for or against the elixir.” “What does that mean, lass?” He stood rigidly as he regarded me with his deep, probing eyes. “The chances of my falling in love with a mortal man are getting slimmer by the day. However, if I do—which I still might—then I don’t want to live forever without him,” I answered quietly. “And if you fall in love with a Fae …? What then, Shee Willow?” he asked quizzically. “The question on the table that came first was have you seen my dad?” I evaded. He sighed. “Not for some time.” I sensed he was holding something back. “What does that mean? What do you know?” “It means that I haven’t seen him these last three, perhaps even four, weeks time. But then I have been extremely busy, as I imagine he has been as well.” “Is he working in the service of the queen … on this war thing with Gaiscioch?” “We are all in one manner or another ‘working on this war thing’ with Gaiscioch. Willow, don’t you see … don’t you understand? It is not only the Fae world that will be destroyed in Gaiscioch’s hands if he is allowed to go unchecked, but the human world as well. Even the Fae that did not agree with the Treaty are staunchly behind the queen’s efforts to destroy him. Gaiscioch never drank from the Cauldron of forgetfulness, and we believe he most certainly has gone mad, although I doubt that he realizes it. Someone with Gaiscioch’s powers who is driven by madness … is lethal to everything and everyone. We have no choice in this matter. He must be destroyed, and although killing a fellow Fae is normally a repugnant thing, I must say it is something I am personally looking forward to doing with my own hands.” I sighed. It was clear to me, very clear. A huge battle was coming, and the Fae needed help on this side of Tir! However, at the moment, I needed my dad. “Breslyn, when you go back to Tir, will you try and find my dad and tell him I miss him?” He pulled me into his arms, and even if he had given me the opportunity to resist, I would not have done so. It felt safe there in his strong but gentle embrace. He did not try to kiss me but looked down and into my eyes to say earnestly, “I shall most certainly do so if I see him. However, my sweet Shee Willow, if he normally keeps in touch with you on a regular basis, as you say, then I am certain the only thing keeping him from you is a service he is performing for the queen …”

“He is not a warrior, Breslyn.” I was suddenly gripped with fear. “Will you look out for him?” “Aye, Shee Willow—I will do what I can.” He touched my nose and released me to say, “If the queen chose him for a mission, she was certain he was capable. So do not worry. And, Willow … I want you to think about something. You are a lovely Fae with the advantage of having the best of human genes. You are what your mother was … a Fios of great power, and you are now as you have always been, quite an extraordinary Fae.” I sank back into his arms, and he just held me. At that moment in time, I felt my heart whisper Breslyn’s name. He was at that moment the steadiest person (Fae) in my life. He knew what I was, and other than my dad and my granny, no other living being in my world did. Fleetingly I wondered what it would be like to just give in to my childish dreams and infatuation with the prince of Dagda. “Someone is coming,” He murmured, “Trust in me. You are a special Fae—you always have been …” He dropped a quick kiss on my lips and whispered, “Miss me, Shee Willow …” And he was gone. I released a long sigh. I hated to see him leave. I did trust him, and right now I was in a whirlpool of ongoing situations and mysterious men whom I did not trust. Roland Omren was top on the list, and Shayne Bantry was taking a close second— or was he the entire list? The ‘someone coming’ turned out to be one of the lads Bridget brought in twice a week to give the manor a thorough cleaning. He was a nice, pleasant-looking young man with a squeegee and a bucket. He looked in on me and asked hesitatingly if it would be all right if he came in and did the interior windows. The Solarium has a great many tall windows. They occupy three walls from floor to ten-foot ceiling. I laughed and asked if it would take him all day. He grinned. “If you like I can come back later …?” “Nonsense—I’m happy for the company.” I waved him inside. He did in fact, take my mind off my concerns as he spent the next two hours washing the windows and chatting away about university life in Dublin. Evidently he had been doing this (cleaning the manor with his buddy) for the last three summers. It helped pay for all the extras at Trinity, where he also worked weekends. Ah. University life … seemed like a million years ago. I loved listening to his youthful, hopeful chatter as I worked, and I scarcely noticed the two hours that passed until he smiled to say he had finished. He bid me good day with a broad, friendly smile. Another hour after that went by before I looked at my watch. It was nearly twelve. Time to wash up and meet Bridget in the kitchen. Fleetingly I wondered where the squire had gone.

~ Seventeen ~ “ETE …” BRESLYN SAID my name in that low, ancient accent that so thrills me. I looked up expectantly at him, and he said it again. “Ete …” He touched my cheek, and then his hand ran down my bare arm and I shivered. “What is it, my Prince?” “It is damnable, but I didn’t know Desmond was Willow’s father!” “And why should you have known such a thing?” I maintained my calm, even though Breslyn had taken my hand and was rubbing it against his velvet chest. He bent his head and brought my fingers then to his lips. “Ah Ete … when we are apart … not working together, that is, I am very aware of it.” As you can imagine, that got a smile out of me. He had not released my hand yet, and I felt a thrill strut through my inner peace. “But, Ete … by Danu, where are my Fae senses? I should have seen the similarity at once.” “Yes, but you were not looking for it, were you?” “No … but still, I feel a fool.” “You could never be a fool … even when you are behaving foolishly.” I twinkled up at him, and he smiled and suddenly realized he was still holding my hand. He dropped it abruptly and then softened the action by gently flipping my nose with his finger. “I did not tell her, and I think she knew I was holding back, but there did not seem any sense worrying her about her father.” “There is no point telling Willow that her father is a prisoner of Queen Mab of the Daoine. We aren’t even positive about it. I think your decision to keep it from her was wise … as most of your decisions are.” He grinned, and I almost threw myself at him. He ran a finger over my lips. “Most of my decisions, Ete?” “I know one that isn’t … only one,” I answered as sexily as I could. He took up my hand again and sighed. “The subject at hand, Little Princess, was the half truth I gave her. You, my honest Ete, have never believed in them.” Breslyn’s ‘smile-to-die-for’ went through me. I tried to ignore what I felt and answered him. “You are right, Bres. I do not enjoy equivocating. I do not believe in lying to those I care about, but I do not like hurting Fae or human … without cause. Sometimes, there are ‘necessary lies’ and they accomplish more good than harm. The situation with Willow and her father is a perfect example. Now … what else are you going to see the queen about?” We were outside the queen’s chambers, where I had arrived to find him pacing like a son of a gun and on fire. I knew he was emotionally rattled, and I had a notion I knew why. On the other side of the door, the queen was in a private discussion with Breslyn’s sister. He knew it and I knew that he was concerned about what his Aida could have done to draw down the queen’s fire. I was, myself, more than a little concerned.

“Ete … what has Aida done?” He had once more dropped my hand as he stood looking rigid and concerned. I tried laughing it off. “She is my friend, Breslyn.” “Ah, so she has done something—how terrible is it?” “I didn’t say she has done anything—terrible or otherwise—but if she had, I would not be discussing it with her brother.” I smiled playfully at him. “I know you understand.” His beautiful silver eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer to me. I put out my hand and purposely stroked his hard and rippled abs … I felt his intake of breath. Had I sent a shiver darting up his spine? I saw him close his eyes as though to gain strength against his emotions. I whispered his name, nothing more. “Ete … there are times when you make me tremble. I have never trembled for any other female in all my existence … at least, not in the way I am now, but it must stop.” I was getting to him; however, I needed more than desire from him. I allowed my gaze to shift to the floor and put my hands at my back. “If it is your will to ignore what you feel, so be it.” I saw the doubt in his eyes. I believed that our first sensual kiss had to be on his mind. It had meant something to him—I was sure of it. I couldn’t be wrong about it. Everything I was told me he felt what I felt. I stepped away, closer to the window, and allowed the breeze to wave the sheer and clinging soft green of my dress around my body. He had a strong will. He thought he was being honorable, but I knew he wanted me … I ran my hand through my auburn hair. I know the sun’s rays were making my locks shine with gold, holding his gaze, burning him with a heat he would not be able to deny forever. I had invited him to want me, but he thought he should run. He thought I spelled trouble. I did, for I meant to have him for my own … forever. “Bloody hell!” Breslyn swore and took a step towards me. The queen’s chamber door opened, and she called us within. “Breslyn … Ete … I am pleased you are here.” We walked in together, but Aida rushed to me and hugged me tightly. “Oh Ete, I am so glad you waited for me.” I patted her reassuringly. I knew the queen had been grilling her. “My Queen.” Breslyn inclined his head, but he was annoyed and allowed it to show. “Hell and fire, my Queen—I have been left cooling my heals in your antechamber, after you summoned me!” The queen looked as she often did, enigmatic. “Ah, but something came up. I hope you have not been waiting overly long, my Prince.” I held back a giggle. Breslyn’s temper flared, but he was such a reasonable sort that it immediately dissipated. He inclined his head. “How may I serve thee, my Queen?” She smiled warmly and put out a welcoming hand indicating for us to all be seated. Aida pulled me to the loveseat, which momentarily annoyed me, as I wanted to sit beside her brother. However, my needy friend was near hysteria, so I didn’t really mind, although she was often near hysteria. Breslyn first bent a perfunctory kiss over Queen Aaibhe’s delicate hand and then remained standing to say, “My Queen, I have news.” “Ah, as always, you are a very satisfactory warrior sleuth, my Prince.” I could see that

Aaibhe said this to assuage the prince’s nerves, and it did in fact obviously soften his resolve to keep himself aloof. I had learned to read the flitting emotions that showed themselves on my Breslyn’s handsome face. “Tell me, Breslyn what have you learned?” Aaibhe prodded. “I would have already been telling you if I hadn’t been kept in the hallway for ten minutes,” Breslyn said less harshly than the words indicated. The queen smiled. “I am your queen, but not above offering my apologies for keeping you waiting, my Prince … but now and then, we females have matters that must be discussed in private. Now, if you please, your news.” Appearing slightly mollified he continued, “I have just come from Bantry Manor …” He glanced towards his sister at that moment. She was looking all gloomy, but at his mention of Bantry she looked up sharply at him, and because I knew that he knew Aida very well, I was certain her saw something in her eyes that gave him reason to pause. He stood there a moment, and I could see him thinking, but the queen decided to call him to order. “And …?” The queen urged him to proceed. “Shee Willow believes that it is possible the squire may have acquired one or even two Mask fragments.” I waited while the queen said nothing. Obviously she was assembling her thoughts and coming to a conclusion. Breslyn changed his mind about sitting and took up the large yellow upholstered chair near the queen. “Better Bantry than the Unseelie,” she said at last. “The piece that Willow Lang confiscated—is still secure?” “Yes, but—” “You will have to speak with Shee Willow. She must search out and find the fragments if the Squire does indeed have them, and when the mask is complete … bring it to me.” “Easier said than done.” He got up from the chair and then sat back down. “My Queen, you are asking her to put herself in grave danger.” I knew that Breslyn would not want Shee Willow exposed to a close-quarter threat, and I knew why, and then he said it. “Willow is mortal.” “Mortal, but I awarded both her mother and Willow the right to use the elixir …” “As you know the mother did not drink the elixir in time, and she was killed. Willow has not yet decided to take the elixir.” “Why?” “Damn if she doesn’t have some notion that she would rather be mortal if she falls in love with a mortal man.” The queen considered this, and a soft smile curved her lips. “The more I hear of Shee Willow, the more I like her.” She sighed. “Then she must use extreme caution. See to it that she does her searching only while my wayward Druid priest is away from Bantry Manor—not that I think him capable of harming the child.” Well, there it was out in the open. My queen did not genuinely find Bantry a threat, at least not to Shee Willow. What then? I knew Breslyn was thinking the same thing and waited for him to proceed, as I could see he was collecting his thoughts. “I think it is time you clued me in on Bantry, my Queen. Just how does he fit into all of this?”

“All you need to know is that he does. I am not certain of his loyalty to us … I am not certain why he has turned his back on us. What I do know is that he has turned his back on the Fae. He and his ancestors before him always faithfully respected and performed our rituals. He has suddenly chosen to ignore his duties, and that makes him unpredictable.” She waved this off. “What we need are the Mask fragments that he holds so that he cannot use them against us. When Shee Willow finds them, Breslyn, I want her to bring them to me.” “If Shee Willow finds the fragments, I will bring them directly to you.” We all got ready for a blast of frigid air. It was usually what happened when anyone said no to the queen. Aaibhe became regal and cold. “You contradict my wishes?” “No … but Shee Willow does not like to come to Tir because of past slights rendered against her.” “Ah, but things have changed, haven’t they. She works for me. All Fae will see that, won’t they? Tir is after all Shee Willow’s home.” Breslyn dismissed the point and continued, “In the meantime, she has asked me to find her father, my Queen. She says he usually keeps in touch with her, and she is worried.” “I am, in fact, attending to that problem right now. Ete and Aida will fill you in on the details, as I must leave immediately.” “Leave—where are you going?” “To visit with my aunt.” “Your aunt?” Breslyn frowned over this as he tried to puzzle out whom she was speaking about. “Which aunt—why?” “Why, Queen Mab, of course.” Okay, now my poor Breslyn was floored. The Daoine are the highest class of the Tuatha Dé. They have their own world, their own rules, and their own culture. They are not just in tune with nature as are all Fae, but they consider themselves the ‘Keepers of Nature’. Their powers are beyond ours in many ways, and now our queen was telling him that she was Daoine! He was dumbfounded for a moment. In ancient times the Irish considered us—all Tuatha Dé—totally god-like. Well, the Tuatha Dé considered the Daoine god-like. Now, his queen was telling him she was a member of the highest royal family of the Daoine, niece to the Daoine queen! It was obvious Breslyn wasn’t quite sure how to react. Aaibhe laughed. “Yes, Queen Mab is my aunt. Did you never wonder how it was that I was always so readily accepted in Daoine?” “No … you are the Seelie queen.” Aaibhe smiled. “Yes, I am the queen because when the Dark King inflicted the final blow that led to Queen Bridget’s death, she had not named a successor. Queen Mab sent me to lead and care for the Tuatha Dé. The Daoine were tired of the constant wars and battles between humans and Fae. They encouraged the Treaty while staying above the fray.” Aaibhe sighed. “And now … it seems I have insulted my aunt in some manner. I must go and make amends.” “But … but, my Queen …” Breslyn wanted more information. “I do not have time for more. Queen Mab has agreed to have tea with me in her chambers, where I believe I may negotiate Desmond’s release. It won’t do for me to be

late.” With that she was gone. Breslyn turned on us. Aida clung to me, and I nearly laughed when I looked at her horrified face and then looked up at Breslyn’s furious expression. His arms were folded across his bulging chest as he demanded, “What, by Danu, did you do? All of it—come clean!” *** Lunch in the Bantry kitchen with Bridget was lively and full of really fun conversation, so why I now felt as low as a girl could feel is a mystery to me. We had just dug into the wonderful salads she had made when she asked me what I might want for dinner, as the squire had left early in the morning for London and she wasn’t expecting him for any meals. (Ah, I thought the house seemed awfully quiet. So that was it.) Bridget went on to tell me cheerily that he wouldn’t be back for some days, and that in fact from the size of his suitcase, she rather thought he might be away at least a couple of weeks. At that announcement I suddenly felt a sense of deflation. A weird but very real boom of gloom hit me. I should have been relieved. I could just go about my business of restoring his artwork and be free of him. Okay, so why then had I suddenly turned into Miss Moody Blue? I didn’t know, didn’t want to know—just wanted to overcome. I told her not to worry about me for dinner. I would probably just fix up another salad. She pooh-poohed that idea, telling me I was too thin and that she rather thought I had lost weight since I had arrived. She wasn’t sending me home to my ‘people’ looking thin as a rail! I laughed and said a chicken sandwich would do just to appease her. I had no appetite whatsoever. Too many things were racing through my brain and making my stomach jittery all the time. After lunch I spent most of the remaining afternoon hard at work. I was running low on gum arabic and wondered if I would be able to get it at the craft store I had seen in Killarney. I screwed up my mouth as I thought about this. I could always use a bit of egg yolk for the texture I needed. At any rate, it was well past four o’clock when I started putting all my things away with one purpose in mind: a good long hike. I needed a brisk walk to stretch my body, clear my head, and get some of what was left of the day’s last rays of sun. There hadn’t been much sun all afternoon, and I suspected that August drawing to a close was about to introduce me to the rain that Ireland was famous for having in abundance. Still, I count myself lucky, as the weather had just been lovely since I arrived at Bantry. I had absolutely no complaints in that department. I stuck my head out the French-styled glass door and noted that it was pretty cool outdoors. So I went upstairs and fetched my denim jacket, slipped it on, and made my way downstairs to the front door. I scanned the long, winding driveway. No Roland in sight. Whew! I just wanted to walk on my own and think, just think. Purposely I walked towards the stables and found Daniel mucking out one of the many stalls. He looked up and touched the peak of his cap to me. “Good afternoon, Miss Lang. I

was wondering when you would find your way here.” I smiled and petted the nose of a large snowy gelding that had come over to the fence line that backed up to the barn. The gelding nudged me, looking for some attention. I gave it to him, and I swear he smiled. “He’s a beauty … he must stand at least seventeen hands!” “Seventeen-two in fact!” Daniel snorted. “And he may look docile now … but he is a mighty handful. The squire is the only one who can make him perform like a gentleman.” “Hmmm, a man’s horse, eh … and just look how he flirts.” I laughed as the big gelding nuzzled my shoulder. “What’s his name?” “Finn … and I see that he likes you, but if you are looking for a mount …?” Daniel grinned and turned to the opposite pasture. “That mare should do you.” She was a pretty bay mare with a white blaze down to her nose. She looked up as though she knew we were talking about her. “Oh she is something, isn’t she? Nice mover?” “Try her on for size, Miss. I’ll get you a saddle.” “No saddle, just a bridle and a blanket will do.” I was so excited. I hadn’t been on a horse for weeks and weeks. Daniel disappeared into the tack room, and when he came out and he was holding the bridle, the blanket, and God bless him, a pair of chaps. “Chaps! Wonderful … but will they fit?” “Aye, they belonged to the squire’s mother. She was a wee lass like yourself. Och, but she loved to ride …” His voice trailed off sadly. It didn’t take long until I had the bit in her mouth and the blanket over her back. Daniel bent to give me a leg up on the count of three. Her name was Brandy, and she stood like a well-mannered lady as I situated myself on the blanket we had slung over her well-shaped back. A moment later we were walking along the pasture. I did a figure eight just for fun, and oh, she was smooth. I held on and tried a little posting to her lovely trot, but gave that up after a few moments with a laugh. Some things need a saddle. Someone had definitely put time into this mare. Brandy fit like a soft leather glove. She had an easy mouth and responded immediately with scarcely a touch of the reins. I squeezed my legs, and she gave me a gentle canter around the pasture. It felt great. When I returned to Daniel he was beaming happily. “A match, I’d say … you have a good seat, if you don’t mind my saying, and quiet hands.” “Oh Daniel, she is a dream. Would it be okay if I saddle her up tomorrow and take her out for a ride?” “It would be perfect. She needs the exercise … she’s getting too fat.” He laughed. A few moments later I was waving myself off as I headed towards the backwoods trail to finish my walk. However, as it turned out, time to think was exactly the opposite of what I needed. They just slammed into me—flying, racing, bumping without consideration—thoughts, and images I really didn’t need … Thinking was not doing me a lick of good, and I didn’t want to do anymore of it. An hour later dusk settled over the landscape. Reluctantly I went back into the manor through the kitchen door, found my supper, warmed it up (thank goodness for the microwave), and took it with a glass of wine to the entertainment center. The time had come to turn on the TV, catch up on the news, and then perhaps a really good movie. I

fell asleep on the couch in front of the huge plasma TV screen, and when I awoke well past midnight, I struggled to make myself get up, put away my plate, and make my way upstairs. I got to my room, took a shower, and walked to my bed and stopped. I collapsed there on the edge of my huge mattress, and all at once, I wanted to cry. Reason? I don’t know. Perhaps it was just that I was a woman and hadn’t cried in so long? Perhaps it was because I suddenly realized that as normal as I was attempting to behave, I wasn’t. My situation wasn’t ‘normal’, and in all likelihood I would never be able to live a normal suitable life! In fact, the truth was—my world was definitely falling apart in speedy degrees. I was a Fae. I was part of another race whether I liked it or not, and that world was preparing for a battle that apparently required me to play a part. I had no choice—I had to help both the Fae and, although they didn’t know it, the human world as well. And there was a problem no one was talking about. The Unseelie Fae miserably outnumbered the Seelie Fae! If the Unseelie got out en masse, the Seelie Fae would not be able to contain them, and humans would not even be able to see what was attacking them. Listen to me, I felt like shouting. Someone had to listen to me. I was not a hero. I was not a fighter. Artist here. I liked to get by, had always gotten by without conflict and confrontation. I liked to fit in … so this was all foreign to me, and just for the record—I so didn’t want to go to war. I hated war. What good came of war? All it accomplished ever was killing. I knew all the solemn talk about the necessity to stay free, and I agreed with that, but hell, I didn’t like what sure looked like a certainty. War, and a bloody one at that! I just wanted to return to New York when my work at Bantry was done and forget the whole damn thing. Does that sound selfish and cowardly? Yes. It does. Did I care? I was not sure. The Fae didn’t really need me, did they? They had been muddling along for thousands of years. Humans didn’t even have a clue about what was coming, so no point putting it to the human vote. It was my life. I should be the only one with a vote. It occurred to me that it was I who found and secured the Mask fragment before Gaiscioch got to it. There were other Fae Relics out there that Gaiscioch might need. I could help find them first. I should help, and that was a pretty big point for me entering the battle. Another point—I could see the dark Fae and help destroy them. I could remain on this side of Tir and kill monsters … Was all this destiny? Was it destiny that brought me here—to Bantry? My father believed in destiny, and he would say that it was, and by the time he would finish articulating his profound reasoning, he would have me believe that whatever he was advocating as ‘fate’ was in fact just that. Fae were great believers in Fate. Perhaps I was as well? And where was my father? Would Breslyn find him for me? And then above all those questions, above all those considerations, there was the crux of my insecurity and gloom. There was this girl that shouted in my head, Shayne Bantry kissed you and left without even a word. And that kiss had come at my carnal, my jungle-heated invitation! And now I felt like a silly schoolgirl. I felt a fool. He had hurried off to wherever—with whomever.

I was too tired to explore the reasoning for his sudden departure. I supposed he didn’t want to become ‘involved’ with an employee. I meant to leave it at that; however, I found the entire experience of his kissing me, and then his running for cover, totally humiliating. How would I face him when he did return? Probably it was a good thing that he had gone. It would give me time to gather my self-respect and chase away my embarrassment. At least I could blame it on the sherry … Damn, but I tried to stop myself from wondering how long he meant to stay away. I lay back on my pillow and looked towards my balcony doors. The waning moon only dimly lighted the night. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I woke up fitfully a few times. Wild dreams. Oh but I needed some sleep. I tossed and I turned, and the last time I looked at my little clock, it was nearly two in the morning. Shortly after that I must have dozed off. I don’t know when the next dream started, but I know it was one of the most vivid dreams I’d ever had. I remember it like a movie you have just seen and can’t get out of your head. I saw the Mask—when it had been whole … eons ago. I saw a tall warrior Fae. He was stunningly handsome and so very regal. He was a Seelie Fae—no, not just a Seelie Fae, but a king! He was a Seelie king, but he was in the Dark Realm, and he was forging the Mask out of silver and gold, infusing it with magic, chanting and singing to it in ancient Danu. He didn’t need to wear a crown—I knew who he was. Anyone, any fool could see who he was. He was the Dark King. He was one of the most handsome and beautiful beings I had ever seen. He had golden hair and deep blue eyes that sparkled with life in their depths. I have never seen a male Fae quite so commanding in statue. One knew he was more powerful than any other Seelie alive, and at that moment he was madly obsessed, infused with determination. The Mask he had created had something to do with the creation of souls. He was experimenting. He wanted to give the Dark Realm creatures that he had created (beasts he had woven into life without the benefit of the Wheel of Being), the essence of a soul, as those creations all lacked souls of any sort. He could not reproduce Fae essence, so he had managed to capture humans and bring them into his Dark Realm with the use of portals no other in the Dark Realm knew how to manipulate. It had always been whispered amongst the Fae that the Dark King could come and go whenever he chose between the Fae world, the human world, and his own Seelie world. He chose to stay in the Dark world. All Fae believe he had dipped into madness. A beautiful woman, small of statue, with laughing eyes, was beside him, taking his hand. She was wagging a finger at him. She wanted him to release his captives, and after an argument, he touched her face and did her bidding. She was his beloved, and she was a human. He abandoned the effort. It was the Dark King himself who had fragmented and sent the Mask to different parts of the world. I awoke with a start. What was this? Did I dream that? Did someone … something make me dream that? I heard a soft purring coming from the floorboards. Oh my gosh—I knew where the dream had come from.

~ Eighteen ~ ARTIFACT BUSINESS? AYE, enough to keep me seriously occupied for some days— London parties, late nights with some friends and acquaintances—aye. Wild enough to pass the bloody time, and still that time just dragged and dragged. Was I losing control? I didn’t lose control. Control was what I had decided to be. I had been what I had always been. When my parents died I had just entered manhood. I had to control the dark, overwhelming grief I felt and pick up the pieces and get through my life. I wouldn’t have them to share my successes and my failures with any longer. They were gone because life was … fleeting at best. I was a Bantry. My father had warned me that one day I would have to carry on when he and my wee dear mother were gone. I learned then how to handle emotions. And now—and now I am bloody well going out of my mind! Pleasure, happiness, contentment? Less than ever before, and there had been little enough of those things in the years after my parents’ deaths. And so we approached my problem: Willow Lang. She floated through my consciousness in waves of heat and fury before I could stop it. Her violet eyes demanded my attention even when I wasn’t looking at her. The mental image of her body skated through my blood over and over. I knew early on that I wanted her—that was the man in me, but there was something more that worked my insides. It was more than arousal that kept her on my mind. Whenever I looked at Willow Lang I thought, ‘us’. Whenever I thought of Willow Lang, my body churned with mindless desire and I knew, I felt as though she was mine. I knew she was meant for me. And more—I felt also at once as though I was hers. It was damn irritating! It was freakish and disturbed me in a way I could no longer control. There it was—out of control, and it was hell. I had never felt those things before about a woman … any woman! After I kissed her, I knew I needed some distance. I had to get away. What would she think? Perhaps she might not remember—after all she had had a bit much to drink. And even if she did, she would chalk it up as meaningless when she woke up and found me gone. That was what I wanted, and needed, wasn’t it? Aye—I didn’t want her looking for more from me. I couldn’t give it, could I? No … fate had willed otherwise. Yet fate had brought us together. I believed that with all my heart. I was Druid and could not escape what I knew and believed. And that glimmer of hope that I held in the recesses of my heart smacked my brain. There was always a chance I might beat this thing …? It was a slim chance, only a slim chance especially as Samhain approached. If I didn’t find the remaining fragments before Halloween—then there would be no hope for me at all.

Damnation. It has been nearly a week away from her, and it had been hell on earth. I had poured myself into everything so that I could wipe the memory of that searing kiss. The taste of that kiss had gone right through me and ignited feelings I didn’t know I was capable of experiencing at a time when everything for me had turned so dark. I saw her lying there, and she looked adorable in her disorder. She was fresh, and beautiful, sultry and intoxicating, inviting and … fuck! This was getting me nowhere. I should have stayed away another week … but, I couldn’t. I’ll be damned if I stay away from her another day! *** I couldn’t believe that one week had gone by, and there I was, totally deserted. I mean, okay, Shayne Bantry couldn’t have made it any clearer. His kiss, the kiss I couldn’t seem to put out of my mind, meant absolutely nothing to him. I get it. Thank you very much. I am not dumb. I didn’t think I was that lousy of a kisser, but there you were. They said when a guy was hot for a woman and couldn’t get her he suffered blue balls … right, so when a girl was hot for someone and didn’t get him, she just got blue. That was what I was, so I had to admit the possibility that I might have wanted him. Over it—sort of. Oh, who was I kidding? This conversation with myself was going nowhere, but it kept on going. Right, so when he got back I would do everything I could to keep a cool exterior and pretend it never happened. Good luck with that! I had been working like a maniac. I was at the easel from morning till night with a break mid-morning for a long walk and another in the late afternoon for a ride on Brandy. Oh, but riding across the fields and through the many wooded trails had been heaven. When I was on Brandy’s back and we were cantering along with the breeze whipping at us, all else was forgotten. And then I was out of the saddle, touched earth, and it all came flooding back to me in a wave of emotion I couldn’t handle. Dad always told me you couldn’t run away. In his thousands of years of life, he had found that running couldn’t go on forever and eventually you had to turn and face things head-on. I think he is right. If you run, it will chase you. Better to stand and get it over with. So okay, here I was facing the facts. But where was my father? Where was Breslyn? My prince had vanished. I had not heard from him all week. I knew that time on Tir moved at a different pace. In fact, maybe only a day had passed on Tir. I hadn’t seen the prince since he’d popped into the solarium, and I was more than anxious for some answers. Also, I wanted to tell him about my dream. I was convinced that the Mask fragment had somehow talked its way into my head when I was sleeping and made me dream about its creation. It whispered to me at night while I slept—weird things about life never ending and how it needed to be rejoined with its remaining parts. And it said all these things in singsong fashion. It also told me that the other two Mask fragments were near … like in the manor! So where was Breslyn? It was very difficult when you knew you had important information, to keep it all to yourself. I could shift over to Tir and find the prince and my dad. I could do that … but then I would have to go to the palace and talk to unknown Fae. Fae strangers … and they would be … what? Cruel? Would they look at me and think me

the ‘faeling’ they once called me? Would I be ignored? Once burnt, a person was wary of fire. Well, if Bres didn’t get here soon, that was just what I was going to have to do—dive into the fire! I looked up from the stone bench I was sitting on. It overlooked the lovely rose garden, but it had definitely gotten cold. It was Saturday. I had almost decided to go to Killarney by myself, sit in a pub and enjoy some music and friendly company. I pulled my thin blue sweater around myself. It was now just a few days away from September, and the late afternoon looked like it was definitely going to be hit with some Irish rain. It had been raining on and off all week. Summer was basically gone. And then the airwaves parted and he stepped through, bristling with the importance of his mission. The royal prince of Dagda looking like the handsome warrior prince he was. My mouth was open as I studied him. Breslyn was always quite an eyeful. All my hurts and insecurities came crashing down on me, and here was someone I called friend. I got up and ran into his arms as though he were the only safe haven in a storm. At that moment, he was just that. “Breslyn,” I breathed. It was all I was able to say. My insides had been churning all week. I hadn’t been eating (much to Bridget’s displeasure), and thanks to the Mask fragment, I hadn’t been sleeping well either. The prince of Dagda held me away from himself and frowned. “What is this, Shee Willow? What is wrong? You have lost weight, and your lovely eyes …? Have you been pining? You look as though you have been pining.” The prince scowled, but I thought it was irritation with himself, not me. I had already realized the kind of male Fae he was. I already knew that he would never intentionally hurt any of the women he chose to dally with, and now I suspected he had the sudden fear that he had somehow hurt me. He was the sort of male that would much rather be hurt by them. I knew that he had already made up his mind that I was not really totally involved in our mild flirtation. So the idea that his absence had hurt me had him taken aback. I sniffed and put my hand to his face. “Not pining … and it wasn’t you … it is just that I am so worried about my dad. When you stayed away so long I started imagining all sorts of terrible things, and that noisy Mask keeps singing at night keeping me awake, and then there was the dream it gave me …” “Whoa there, wee Shee. Shall we start at the beginning? What singing, what dream?” “No … not yet, tell me first about my father.” I was already feeling better as I pulled him onto the bench. He was dressed in human Glamour and wore his creamy-colored heavy fisherman knit sweater, faded jeans, and designer boots with style. He looked like an uber-hunk. It occurred to me that if anyone came walking by, they would wonder where he had come from, as he had not pulled up in a vehicle. However, it was Saturday and Bridget was off, and Roland Omren hadn’t been around all week either. Not that I had wanted to see him. I didn’t know where he had taken himself off to, but Bridget thought he was gone on some job for the squire. So we would probably not be interrupted for the moment. He held my hands. “Your father is safe. At least I think he is. I didn’t come back sooner as I was waiting for the queen to return from Daoine … but, she must still be busy with Queen Mab since she has not returned yet. You know by our time on Tir, Willow, I

have only been gone a little more than a day. You don’t have to worry about your dad. We believe that Queen Mab is holding your father prisoner … and that as soon as Aaibhe and Mab conclude their ‘pow-wow thing’ he will be returned safe and sound and none the worse. You have nothing to concern yourself about in this—it is simply a political thing.” “But … why … what … I mean … I don’t understand.” I spluttered. “Look, go inside, change into something pretty. I will be back for you in one hour. I am going to get a silver Jaguar and come back for you in high fashion. You need some entertainment, and come to think of it, so do I.” I had so much worrying my mind. He said my dad was safe, but he was still a prisoner. The Mask had induced dreams—life was a mess, but hey, I needed a distraction, and a night out together would afford that and the opportunity to learn more. “O-Kaayy …” I answered him tentatively. “I am going to take my Shee Willow for some food and wine and a pleasant evening. You need to get away from this place, and you need to smile. I will tell you everything I know and you will tell me about this Mask business. How does my Shee Willow feel about that?” I considered him with a slow, curving smile. He was the most wonderful friend a woman could ever hope to have. Illusions were things the Fae used to advantage in all manners of situations; however, this Fae was not an illusion. He was the real deal. “Yes, okay, oh yes,” I said and jumped to my feet. He laughed and said, “Call the gatehouse and tell them you are expecting a guest to come for you. I will be back in one human hour, pretty girl …” I laughed and started off. This was the first bit of excitement I had felt all week. You know, I am only twenty-three. We must not forget that. Moping around for no concrete reason was now out the window. My dad was safe … a prisoner, but safe. To heck with Shayne Bantry—it was time for me to grow up and get over it. However, even flipping Shayne Bantry off in my head brought back a stab of the blues. Don’t say his name. Don’t think his name, I told myself. Maybe it was time I admitted to myself that I was Fae—half human yes, but the part of me that was Fae was too powerful to deny. Maybe I should consider taking the elixir, for more reasons than one. Maybe the truth was that I had been living a lie … Anyway, no time to think about that now, I told myself, as I walked back towards the Manor. I turned to wave at the prince, but he was already out of sight. The men in my life appeared and disappeared at will. It was disconcerting.

~ Nineteen ~ RIGHT ON TIME, Breslyn pulled up in a silver Jaguar. My, oh my, I don’t know much about cars, but I know that it suited a Fae prince perfectly. My long, pale blonde hair was piled up on my head and fell in long curls around my face. I had on a little make-up, and I knew I looked sexy. It was fun to dress up. The Ralph Lauren (which was a steal) red dress fit me softly but snugly and had a very nice slit up my right leg. Black heels completed the picture. Cluster seed pearls hung at my ears and from a gold chain at my neck (from my dad, whose taste in all things was exceptional). I was satisfied with the woman who looked back at me from the hall mirror. I had taken up a little black silk jacket that was nipped-in at the waist and went downstairs to wait for Breslyn. The library had a very good view of the front courtyard, and I watched Breslyn as he got out of the Jaguar. I couldn’t suppress the low whistle that worked its way out of my pursed lips. I hurried to the front door and held it wide open for him. Wow! I mean wow was not enough to express what I saw. Brad Pitt had nothing on him. He was wearing a dark gray leather blazer over a silky white crew neck sweater. His dark blond hair was tied at the nape of his masculine neck. His gold torque was as always adorning the same. His dark gray silk pants were definitely made to fit his large body. And black boots with gold trim finished the ensemble. He looked to melt for—in slow degrees. So why did I, at that precise moment, that single stupid moment, think of Shayne Bantry? Something inside my heart lurched, and something inside my head said, Wish he could see me go out on my date and be jealous. I was a half-wit and deserved to die alone … an old maid that never knew what she wanted … well, knew, but didn’t know how to get it. No need to tell me, I know. Breslyn was smiling broadly as he took my hand and made me twirl a full circle. He released a soft exclamation. “By Danu, you are exquisite …” Then I skipped (not really, but it felt that way) down the front steps and was ushered into the luxurious Jaguar. Oh but I liked the way it moved, almost as smooth as the lovely mare I had been riding all week. We fell into easy conversation, and I told him how furiously I was working on restoring Bantry’s classical art pieces. I told him about Brandy and how it had been the one good thing I’d had to look forward to all week. He looked at me thoughtfully and reached for my hand. “What has been eating at you Willow? Tell me.” “Nothing …” “I know that something is bothering you. It isn’t all ‘missing your dad’ is it? What can it be? Is it Bantry?” I grimaced at him. “He hasn’t even been here. He is away in London.” “Away? Damn! We could have used the time to search.”

“Search for what?” “The queen thinks he might have the Mask fragments close by.” This struck me at once as an absolutely truth. “Ah … so that’s why the thing was purring like crazy. Bres … it wants to be reunited with its other parts. It sang and sang, and I think it was calling to the other fragments. And Breslyn—the Dark King forged it, and instilled it with its magic. I think he wanted to give his malformed creations something close to a soul … if not at least some kind of essence. He thought if they had souls, they would not be so full of hatred. He was going to experiment on some humans he had captured, but his human woman, his lover, stopped him.” The prince screwed up his mouth. “Ah yes, that makes sense. The Dark King is Seelie Fae … so of course …” He paused to think this out and then released a long sigh. “As you know, Fae Relics … have a habit of evolving into things they were never intended to be. We do not know what this Relic is capable of now.” I waited and watched him as he fell into deep thought before he continued, “Luckily, even though it was made by the Dark King, it is a Seelie Relic, made by a Seelie. Therefore, I think it safe to assume a Seelie Mask, even one as powerful as this, could not have evolved into anything inherently evil.” “Why does he stay in the Dark Realm?” “He wanted more power than our Queen Bridget would allow. They went into battle, and she received a fatal wound. When Queen Bridget died of her wounds, he blamed himself and retreated to the Dark Realm as self-punishment. He banished himself, Willow, as punishment for what he felt was his crime. Legend tells us that he strived to forgive himself for his crimes. There are two schools of thought. One is that he has retreated with his beloved human woman to a paradise of his own making. The other is that she killed herself because of some tragedy she could not bear, and then his madness took hold of him and perhaps destroyed him.” He held the wheel with one strong hand, while the other pressed his thumb and forefinger to his forehead. He seemed to be disturbed about these possibilities, and then he shrugged it off to continue. “Our queen was a welcome guest at his palace, where she says she saw no sign of his human woman. She told us that the last time she saw him was hundreds of years ago. She believes he would not approve of Gaiscioch and his abominations running amok in the human world, but she has no way of contacting him.” Breslyn shrugged. “And in truth, there is no telling what he really would or would not approve of, really.” “Yes, but that doesn’t explain the four evil Unseelie Hallows and Unseelie Relics that are floating about the world.” “Indeed, but they were created by Queen Morrigu. The rumor is that she was enamored of the Dark King and followed him into his world. For whatever reasons, he won’t release her from his Realm.” Breslyn kept talking, but his words swam to the back of my mind, as I was suddenly distracted. We were just approaching and then passing a small, grungy pub whose parking lot extended to the street and was full of potholes. We were still at the edge of Killarney Village, where one might not be surprised to find such a place. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from my passenger window. It wasn’t the stark contrast of the dilapidated building to its lush green countryside that caught my attention. It was two of its patrons that had just walked outside and stood near the parking lot’s single light.

Deeply involved in a heated conversation, they stood near Roland’s old gray Mercedes, and I watched in fascination as Roland poked a finger at his companion. Okay, you are saying, big deal, so Roland was slumming? Nope, not the slumming thing—we all have done that from time to time. That wasn’t it. It was the thing he was poking. I say thing, because it had the head of a roach and the body an ant. It was dripping with some kind of yellow ooze and splattered drool as it shook its head, clearly annoyed. It was an Unseelie—a disgusting Unseelie in human Glamour. Roland couldn’t know. He wouldn’t be able to see past the Glamour. He was a gypsy, yes, and some gypsies had a sense of the Fae through their Glamour, but I was sure Roland couldn’t know. How could he and still stand there with it in conversation? Yet, there was something going on that wasn’t quite right. We were past the place, and they were no longer in my view. The scene kept replaying itself for me. I wasn’t sure that Roland knew that he was having a heated debate with an Unseelie. How could he know? And yet, something in my Fae brain told me that he did know … Beside me I realized that Breslyn had stopped talking and had reacted to the sound of my intake of breath. I looked at him, and his brow went up, I supposed at the expression on my face. “What? What is it, Willow?” “Roland … Roland and a dark … oh Bres … monstrous Unseelie …” I shook my head as doubt flooded my brain. “Maybe we should go back and help him?” “There is no need. The gypsy knows who he is dealing with,” Breslyn said simply. “How can you be sure? How do you know that?” He didn’t look at me as he said, “I saw them earlier.” “You saw them earlier?” I scrutinized him for some hidden meaning. “What do you mean, you saw them earlier? When, where … and how, if you please?” “On my way to obtain this Jag, I swung by the village and did a quick tour. I wanted just the right place to take you tonight. I was looking for some lovely, out-of-the-way restaurant with soft music, a touch of ambiance, the kind to put a glow back into your cheeks …” He cut himself off. “At any rate, on my way I caught a glimpse of those two walking into that pub together. I thought it best to take an extra moment and shift into another dimension so that I could listen in on their conversation without the Unseelie detecting me. The two of them were head to head, but I heard Roland curse him as an Unseelie. I caught talk about a money exchange. No doubt Roland is searching out Fae Relics for the Unseelie.” Breslyn scowled darkly. “The gypsy was trying to secure his future in the months ahead. Hedging his bets so to speak. They will use him and dispose of him.” “But … what if it is something else … something more sinister?” “I don’t think the gypsy has the power to serve the abominations in any other manner. However, you are right, it would be best to watch Roland Omren with your eyes wide open.” I didn’t say anything to that, but I got an entire new picture of Roland in my head. “He is no longer installed at Bantry.” Breslyn said quietly, “I wonder if our Druid priest suspected something?” This was all, in spite of the fact that I had always held Roland in some suspicion, a bit of a shock. I didn’t think he would go that far—to actually strike up a deal with the

Monster Fae! And I hadn’t realized that Shayne had fired Roland. Again, I kept my thoughts to myself for the moment. “I believe we are getting closer to the moment when all hell is going to break loose, Shee Willow. I think the future holds a force that will be life-threatening to all of us.” “Breslyn, we have to do something. What about the Dark King … will he not help Queen Aaibhe?” “That is something we cannot rely on. We have to proceed as though he is in another universe and oblivious to the fact that the Realms are in danger of colliding …” “And this Morrigu … what can we expect from her? How will she play in all of this?” “Morrigu was the king’s consort for many years, until he met and took the human woman … the one that changed so much for him … and again, I am only quoting the legend and perhaps a sense of what our Queen Aaibhe has revealed to me over the years. Not too much is really known about the Dark King. However, we do know that now, Gais has taken Morrigu as his lover, and she no doubt sees this as her chance to rule beside him in the world he is promising to control.” “What are we going to do?” “What we can, what we must. I didn’t mean to scare you with this kind of talk, but, Shee Willow, you will play a big part in the months ahead.” “But … I don’t have enough training …” “I have been around thousands of years and have seen a thing or two in my time. When you give yourself over to who you really are, Shee Willow, you will find the ability and the power to help defeat our enemies.” That was all he was going to say on the subject, and at any rate, there was no time for more as we had arrived in Killarney and he was parking the car. I didn’t bother to ask where and how he had managed to come up with a silver Jaguar. Breslyn, I had learned, was very adept. It was a lovely and dimly lit restaurant with a piano player in one corner softly playing romantic tunes. We were led to a wonderful table overlooking a backyard patio alive with dim lights, torches, plants, and flowers. We drank wine, and for the next hour Roland, Dark Kings, Unseelie drones, and Morrigu were forgotten as we enjoyed the music and the food. It was everything that I needed—some normalcy. (Well, normal if you didn’t count that Bres was a Fae prince and I was half Fae.) I should have been content, and yet, I felt oddly restless and empty. Why? Breslyn was determined that I shed my gloom and was determined to make me smile, and I did; however, frivolity and merriment must descend into reality. The time came when I asked Bres about my dad. He hesitated and then dove in, telling me everything he knew. He wasn’t sure why Queen Mab of the Daoine had thought it necessary to kidnap one of the Tuatha Dé, and with that he sat back in his chair to say, “Your turn, wee Willow.” I told him about my dream in detail. He kept interrupting me to ask me questions and then frowned to urge me to go on. He wanted to know if I saw where the Dark King had scattered his Hallows. I had to think about his. I was not sure. There was background in the dream, but I was not sure it meant anything to me. “Try, Shee Willow … you must.”

I sighed. “I will. I will try and recall more detail later when I am alone …” I grimaced as I remembered I would have to try and sleep with that thing forever singing. “Can you make it stop singing to me at night?” The prince looked at me for a long time and then sighed. “I cannot … but, you can.” “How?” I was amazed. “You have to find the other two fragments in Bantry Manor. I can only imagine that the one senses the presence of the others …” “That’s funny—you speak about it as though it was a living thing, and that is exactly how I feel about it.” “It is a living thing. Remember that, Willow. If Bantry has the other two fragments, which I am now certain he does, he must have them nearby, probably in his bedroom. Start your search there.” “What makes you so certain he has the fragments at Bantry?” “Because the one senses the two,” Breslyn answered simply. “Doesn’t Shayne Bantry hear his fragments singing …?” “No, neither would I be able to hear them. It is your gift, your ability to hear the ancient Relic, which comes from your mother’s side, not from your Fae side.” We talked and talked and laughed and shared dessert. It was a wonderful evening and certainly picked up my lowly spirits. We pulled into the courtyard at Bantry, and I was surprised to see lights on inside the library, which overlooks the front courtyard. I turned to Breslyn. “Uh oh …” “Apparently the squire has returned.” The prince looked grave as he took my shoulders, “Listen to me … you will not put yourself in jeopardy when you go searching.” “You got that right.” I almost snorted but controlled myself. “My dad taught me the Féth Fiada, but, Bres, I never really got it right—I can only maintain the invisibility for a short span of time. So I will be careful, trust me.” He flipped my nose lightly as though I were a child. Then he got out of the car, came around, and opened my car door with a grand flourish to say, “My lady …” I laughed, and he took my hand as he walked me to the front doors. I threw my arms around him in a bear hug (not romantic I know, but I just wanted to hold on tight to the one steady entity in my life just then), and I whispered, “Thanks, Prince … I really needed that. It was a great evening.” He took my arms and set me apart for just a moment before he lifted my chin and dropped a light kiss on my lips. It was perfect. I didn’t want more from him at that moment, because I wasn’t sure how I felt. He didn’t seem to want more either, which surprised me. “I won’t stay away so long this time, Shee Willow,” he whispered. The front door opened, and Shayne Bantry filled the doorframe like a huge, looming, feral predator. That was my first thought: magnificent. My second was, Who does he think he is, always interrupting my dates at the front door? I didn’t have a third thought as Shayne Bantry inclined his head and said, “Miss Lang. I didn’t want to lock up until you were home as I wasn’t sure I had given you a key?” Huh? Oh gosh. I hadn’t locked the front door when I left. I felt the heat of a bright red blush in my cheeks. The prince squeezed my hand and laughed, saying, “Now who would think you would have to lock doors all the way back here? Especially with your vigilant

gatekeeper on the job.” He put out his hand. “I’m Breslyn … Breslyn Adage.” Bantry had no choice but to shake the prince’s hand and ask if he would like to come in for a nightcap. The prince declined. Bantry backed off with a polite, “I’ll just leave you two to your evening then.” The prince watched me as I stole a glance at Bantry, who had turned on his heel, stomped off, and disappeared out of view into the library. I made a face at the prince and asked, “What? Just what?” “I will leave that to you to figure out, and I will remind you one more thing about Shayne Bantry that I think it best for you to know.” “Yes?” “Shayne Bantry is not just a Druid. He is one of the queen’s most powerful Druid priests. He seems to have forsaken the Fae as of late, and we do not know why, but be wary … there is a great deal more to the man than meets the eye.” The prince dropped another light kiss on my lips and hurried off to the Jaguar. I stood on the steps a moment and watched him pull away before I went into the house. Right. I knew he was a Druid priest, but I had not known he was the queen’s most powerful Druid priest. What had made him withdraw? What had made him so angry with the Fae? I started for the stairs. Said Druid priest stepped out of the library and said softly, “Miss Lang … would you join me in a nightcap before going up?” I should say no to him. I should keep him at a distance. I had no business going into the library with him. “Okay,” I said and moved towards him. He stepped aside, but only enough for me to brush up against him as I passed through, and I swear he took a whiff of me as I went by. I slipped out of my jacket and turned to find him looking at me from the top of my blonde head right down to my red-painted toes. I turned away from that look and moved towards the fireplace. There was a lowburning fire, and I stretched my hands out towards it. “What can I pour for you?” he asked softly. I laughed. “No sherry … that’s for sure! Umm … I’ll take a Bailey’s, please.” He smiled, he poured, he brought it to me, and when he put it into my outstretched hand … his finger touched mine. It was as though electricity, low voltage, although painless, sizzled right through my veins and began a sexual drumbeat that called for more of the same. I looked at his face and suddenly thought that he had felt it as well. “And is he Irish … your beau, Breslyn … Adage? I couldn’t quite place his accent.” I smiled to myself because I rather thought Breslyn would think of himself as part Irish. “In a manner of speaking, although he doesn’t live here and he is not my beau.” He frowned over my answer and sipped at whatever he was drinking, brandy I thought. “Then if he doesn’t live here … is he here on business and mixing a little pleasure in with it?” Again I heard the superficial casualness to his tone, yet ‘felt’ the intense interest. That was odd. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought him a bit jealous. “Ah … I suppose you could say that.” “What line of business is he in?” “Breslyn doesn’t have to work for a living, but he is interested in ancient Relics … as you are, only he doesn’t look to profit from their acquisitions,” I said softly and eyed him for a quick moment before averting my gaze and sipping my Bailey’s. I looked up to find his lazy gaze on my lips. I saw his tongue move into the corner of his mouth, and the

memory of his kiss last week swept through my brain and made my body tingle. Was he thinking about the kiss he had given me up in my bedroom? Why was I still thinking about it? He snorted. “You are naïve, Miss Lang if you think that.” I frowned because for the moment I had forgotten what we had been discussing … oh yeah, ancient Relics and Breslyn’s ‘business’—or lack thereof. Even so I was confused by his retort. “What do you mean?” “We all, each one of us, seeks to gain … each one of us are self-serving.” I didn’t agree with that point of view. “I strongly disagree. What about people who give of themselves—their time, their caring, and things you can’t put a price on?” “It makes them feel ‘so very good’. Self-serving,” he responded. “That is very cynical.” “Not at all,” he responded forcefully. “Realistic. If you are realistic, you cannot be duped.” “Not a pleasant way to go through life … being realistic to the point of being stark about human relations.” He stopped for a long moment and considered me. “You are young and have not yet been disillusioned …” Now I snorted. “I have had my fair share of disappointments.” Suddenly he was on the leather couch next to me. “Who disappointed you Willow Lang? How did he disappoint and disillusion you? Did someone break your young heart?” He looked sincere, as though he genuinely empathized with me. I studied him for a moment and then waved that notion off. This mysterious man was not getting my trust so easily. Hadn’t Breslyn just told me that he was a powerful Druid priest? Didn’t I already suspect him of dabbling in Dark Magic? A Druid priest that played around with black magic was a dangerous combination. Oh no, I was not telling him any secrets. He had kissed me and taken off for the hills without even a ‘bye bye, see you later’. I so waved the need to confide in him off and away. “Let us just say I am not as you called me a moment ago, naïve!” All at once he was taking the drink out of my hands, then expertly maneuvering back towards me. His eyes swept my face and then lazily took stock of my breasts. I felt frozen in place. I liked the way he was looking at me. There was a light in his dark green eyes that spelled more than lust. There were secrets down deep in those eyes that tempted me to look further. No, I told myself, don’t trust him. He was the ultimate playboy. He was an expert at seducing a woman. Was that what he was doing? Was he trying to seduce me? It wasn’t what I was used to. It was far subtler than anything I had ever encountered before, if that was what he was doing. All I knew was that I just couldn’t move as I watched him. All at once, he was taking me into his arms, crushing me to him, while one hand moved from my back to my face and his delicious mouth closed on mine! Lust glittered in his eyes as he moved his sensuous tongue between my lips, found and teased mine with a hungry yet gentle erotic dance. My mind made a feeble attempt to retreat and run, but my resolves against him disintegrated and I melted into his arms. All thoughts were swept away by uncontrollable desire. One kiss became yet another as his

tongue took my measure and played my tune. He broke from the kiss with a low growl that reminded me of a wolf taking what he thought was his and warning all others away. He worked his lips down my neckline towards my breasts and then back up again as he kissed his way to my ear and said softly, “You are clear-headed now, Willow Lang … you know fully what you are doing.” Cold water splash! Boom! I sure as hell knew what I was doing! I broke away and ran for my room as fast as I could. I never said a word. I just was up and out. I was gone—I was so outta there. I got to my room, closed the door at my back and stood for a moment while I recouped. What had I done? I let him kiss me … and I would have let him keep on kissing me. I slid down against the door and felt the tears well up in my eyes. Again—like a fool I had let him hurt me … I would have let him play my body any which way he could. Damn, but I had wanted him to play my body any which way he could. Instead, he stabbed me through with shards of ice. He was a cold-hearted non-committing man who thought everyone wanted something from someone. Well, I knew just what he wanted from me. I knew it was nothing more, and the ache turned into pain that rushed through me and constricted my throat. What did I expect? Look at who he was. Look at what he was. What was he? He was an unfeeling Druid priest, and he probably used Dark Magic even more than I suspected. For all I knew he might be in league with Gaiscioch. And I was a Fae—at least, half Fae. What would a Fae-despising rogue Druid priest think of that? Well, thank God he gave me the ‘if you know how to play with fire, you won’t get burned’ speech. That wasn’t what he said, but it was what I believed he meant when he said I was clear-headed and knew what I was doing. No affection there let alone … love. Love—ha! What was I thinking? Was I still that ten-year-old that thought one day a knight in shining armor would ride across the field for me on a white stallion? The sorry truth—I was still that girl. The shining armor for me was character; the coming across the field was love … a love you could see, feel … and touch; the horse, well I would settle for any horse, white or otherwise. Here I was, surrounded by hunks—Shayne, Breslyn, and Roland—and not one fit the bill … Shayne’s kisses still tickled at my insides, and for a moment, just a moment before I shooed the memory off, I wished I hadn’t jumped off and away from him. I should have just allowed myself a moment longer to explore … After all, I wasn’t getting any younger. No, but I sure was getting dumber.

~ Twenty ~ WHAT THE FUCK have you gone and done, Shayne Bantry? I asked myself. Again I behaved like a blithering idiot. What kind of a man had I turned out to be? I was not the kind of rogue that sent a woman running off for shelter! I had always been up front with the women who came into my life. I wanted to be up front with Willow Lang. However, it had sent her reeling. I felt like a cad. I should have run after her. I should have wiped that hurt from her eyes, and I had hurt her. I saw the shock and hurt on her face. Somehow, I had said something that hurt her. What? I wanted her to know I didn’t take advantage of her the other night when I could have, when she lay there all bright and warm and frigging desirable. Somehow I had said the wrong thing. She misinterpreted what I said. Bloody hell, I made a mess of it! What was I doing? Jealous? I’d felt absolutely savage and predatory when she pulled up with that Breslyn fellow. I wanted to rip her away from him. I wanted to shout and tell him whom she belonged to. Insane! Of course it was insane. She wasn’t mine. She was her own woman with her own life. Her life? What did I know of her life? I knew what my security firm reported. I knew what she told me. She had a musician father, and until she graduated UNC of Wilmington, she lived with her grandmother. A drunk driver killed her mother when she was only ten years old. What more did I know of Willow Lang? I knew that her take on life must have been greatly affected by losing her mother while she was still so young and vulnerable. Other than that, I knew very little of Willow Lang, and yet, yet I felt her inside … I felt my heart pounding uncontrollably in my chest. What was wrong with me? Her soul touched me. It lit in her violet eyes and curved her mouth, and I wanted her more than I had ever wanted any other woman. I was a damnable idiot. I was no more than that. I knew better than to go charging into a woman full speed … So, what do I do? I could drink myself to sleep and pass out. That would deal nicely with this entire evening in a nutshell. Aye, so it would, only to slam me across the head the next morning when at some point I would have to face her and the day. What kept coming back and making me cringe was the hurt in her violet eyes. The shock on her face. She looked at me as though I had just slapped her! Why? I didn’t go around breaking hearts. At least, I tried never to do that, especially now when I knew I couldn’t—or rather shouldn’t—get involved. My future was warped by what a single Fae had done to me. My life was forever changed by a single Fae’s flick of a wrist … Bloody hell! I’d behaved like a coward. I should have gone upstairs and talked to her,

fixed things with her. I had to keep my hands off the lass and make it comfortable for her to be there. If I didn’t, this time she would quit on me, and I could not allow that to happen. I put down my drink, shut out the light, and stalked the stairs. I reached her door, and my hand went up to pound, but then I heard her crying. She sounded like she was on the floor … near the door. She was crying. I tapped as gently as I could. I heard her as she sniffed, and then she said, “Go a … way …” “Willow—please? Forgive me for whatever it was I did or said that offended you.” There, that should do the trick. That was rather well done in fact, I thought. She sniffed again and answered, “Good night, Squire Bantry.” I stood and stared at the door. What had I expected? Did I think she would fling the door open and jump into my arms? Not really, but neither did I expect such a cold dismissal. What to do now? “Willow …?” I said softly. “Good night,” she repeated. I screwed up my mouth. I thought fast. Should I leave it at that? Unlike most men, I was not frightened off by the idea of a confrontation with a woman, but then I’d had so very few of those scenes. I had never been involved deeply with a woman, and I had never bothered to try and hold onto a woman for very long. “Yes, but …” I tried again. She sighed as though I were a terrible nuisance. “No more talking, sir. I’m off the clock until Monday, so no more privileges.” She had iced me over. I felt the cold encase me and keep me rigid. Even the hall in which I stood felt as though a sudden draft of cold air had blown in. There was nothing more I could do. She was finished with me. It didn’t sound as though she meant to quit and leave any time soon—at least that had been averted. However, I had gained no ground. She was ticked, and that was where she was staying. At this point, retreat was the only road. I backed away from Willow’s door feeling empty and suddenly totally lost … *** I woke up with a start. There had been no singing, I realized at once. I jumped up and went to my closet, got down on my knees and whispered, “Mask … are you still there … Mask?” It purred contentedly and softly said my name. “Willow.” I sighed and made my way to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and looked at myself in the mirror. I was a mess. My white-gold hair was wildly framing my face, my violet eyes were dark with misery, and my head was telling my heart that it had no sense. It was nearly seven when I was done dressing in a long-sleeved black silk knit sweater, tight jeans, and black hiking boots. I chose my lined denim blazer and a black long wool scarf to complete the picture. I got to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, nibbled at a muffin while I waited for it to brew, and took up a seat near the window so that I could look out on the gray day. The sun was not coming out today, and that so fit how I felt. What was happening to me? Why did Shayne Bantry affect me the way that he did? Chemistry, a voice in my head answered at once. He worked your chemistry. Shut it off. Just shut it off and you will be fine, I berated myself. The coffee was ready so I got up, poured myself a cup, and sipped it black. Yup,

maybe what I needed to do was concentrate on Breslyn and the dangerous Dark Fae war for the time being and forget all about Shayne Bantry. That voice in my head jumped at me. What do you mean concentrate on Breslyn? You know better. Tsk, Tsk. My head filled with conversation. Like two people going at it. The other answered, Tsk, tsk? Are you nuts? Breslyn … smoking Fae hunk. I knew what I felt for Breslyn was entirely different than what I felt for Shayne Bantry. I knew that while I felt more than friendship for Breslyn, it wasn’t the feeling I had been looking for all my life … Was I just confused because he was a Fae … and I had always thought I would fall in love with a man? Nah. Besides, I didn’t really think Breslyn was in love with me, and I knew I wasn’t really in love with him, although … perhaps I could be if I tried. No, love—true love was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Yeah, well, it wasn’t coming along. What was I going to do? Have another cup of coffee. No decisions until a second cup of coffee. A few moments later, breakfast was a done deal and the second cup had not helped me at all. I had no idea what I was going to do next (with regards to the men presently in my life), so I picked up one of the large umbrellas from the brass container where they resided beside the kitchen’s backdoor, and off I went. The wind hit me in the face and brought me to life. It was cold, but it was refreshing, hopefully refreshing enough to clear the cobwebs in my head. I wrapped my wool scarf around my neck and pulled out my little black knit gloves as I started to put some effort into my walk. I hadn’t got far when I heard the roar of a car engine that clearly said, I am power, and I knew it was Bantry’s car. Curious beyond my control, and that was because of the suspicion that Shayne Bantry was once more high-tailing it out of Bantry, I had to go look. If he were leaving, what would I do? Rush him, slap him, or kiss him—all three? Crazy. I kept myself in place; I wasn’t going to stop him. What choice did I have? I was his employee, nothing more. The two kisses he had given me were nothing more than what a man gave when he wanted sex. There. I said it. That was all I was to him. To Shayne Bantry I was nothing more than an object of sexual desire. Now why that depressing thought should send a shiver through my body was more than I wanted to think about at the moment. At that moment I wanted to see if it was Shayne Bantry that was about to leave Bantry Manor. I stalked the sound, made my way towards the front courtyard, and saw the big handsome Bantry man get out of a sleek navy BMW. It was running. He was wearing a pilot-styled black leather jacket over an ivory-colored sweater. He wore jeans and didn’t look or behave like he was on his way to the airport. Was he? I didn’t see a suitcase or an overnight bag. They could already be in the car. Hmmm. Where was he going? What was he up to now? He went into the house and returned to his vehicle almost immediately. A moment later he was racing his beautiful car down the driveway and out of sight. Right. So that was that. He was gone. I wondered briefly for how long. The house was empty. This fact suddenly dawned on me. The house was empty. Perfect timing. Search for the Mask fragments. I didn’t waste time wondering if I should or shouldn’t; I didn’t have

a choice—I had to, so I shifted to his room (seemed like I was doing more and more Fae things lately). I stood there on the dark Oriental carpet covering the magnificent wide wood plank flooring and wondered where he would have hidden his treasure. His room was immense and sectioned into different seating areas. There was a small alcove dominated by a ceiling-to-floor window treatment. Two comfortable-looking green plaid upholstered chairs stood on either side of a dark gothic table boasting a small floral arrangement. The whole ensemble overlooked the back gardens. As I glanced out the window, it occurred to me that he might have seen me leave for my walk this morning. A room off to the side turned out to be a modern-day gym complete with sauna. I sighed and turned back towards the main suite. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought. Where are you and why don’t you sing to me like your mate does? I asked silently. The two fragments heard me and purred my name. “Willow.” Okay, I may have asked the question but I really didn’t anticipate a reply and almost jumped. I moved towards the walk-in closet. It was huge. There was a bench in the middle of it, and I sat there for a moment and looked around. “Come on …” I encouraged them. “ … purr some more …” “Willow.” It was full throttle now, and I went to the far wall, moved aside some clothing, and found a panel. I used my Fae ability to open the air space and bring them to me, but nothing. I tried a specific spell, but it came back to hit me in the face like a wallop. There would be no retrieving the Mask fragments from their resting-place by any means that I knew of. The aura that held them captive was black magic! Out of my league here. I didn’t have the ability or the knowledge to go against dark magic that powerful. And it was without a doubt the most powerful thing I had ever come across. With one sweep Shayne’s dark black, ominous magic had reared its hoary head and sent me packing. I heard the bedroom door open. Bridget was off today. It was Sunday. Oh man, I was now most certainly fucked. I don’t often use that word, but there you are—it fit. He was back. He was in the room! I shifted out to the woods and fast. How was I to know that my perfume would linger …? *** I walked into my bedroom suite and stopped short. Her scent was everywhere. I am a high Druid priest, and one of my heightened abilities is that of my sense of smell. I went to the closet; the room was filled with her soft fragrance. But I had seen her go out. She must have doubled back and come here. Why? Speedy little thing. Had she been waiting for me to leave? The notion fired up my grump into downright irritable speculation. I had come back for my wallet, which I had left behind on my dresser table. It was still there untouched. In fact, nothing was touched. She had come in and simply moved about the room. What was she looking for? Why had Willow Lang come to my room? I made my way downstairs and to the kitchen and saw at once that Willow had made a pot of coffee. I poured myself a cup, leaned up against the counter to sip it, and awaited her return. All other plans, I decided, could be put aside.

*** As soon as I entered the kitchen I saw him. He filled the room with his size, with his aura, with the electricity that emanated from the power of his presence. He was dressed in black, a black T-shirt and black jeans, and I thought of a black panther on the stalk. He looked dangerous … and deadly. A soft voice whispered in my head that panthers mate for life. What was I stupid, thinking such a thing at such a moment? He sipped coffee slowly, and then he put the cup down. He wasn’t smiling when he said, “Good morning, Miss Lang.” I managed a half smile. He knew. He knew I had been in his room. How did he know? Because, dimwit, my inner voice shouted, he’s a Druid priest with Dark Magic. Holy shit, what do I do? “Good morning,” I answered. Keep it cool, keep it aloof. You were insulted last night. Stay that way. “Have you had a pleasant walk?” “Yes … lovely, thank you.” Doing the curt thing. “And a tour of my bedroom—was that pleasant as well?” He was already across the few feet that separated us, and he had my arms in his harsh grip. I frowned up at him and said, “Let go of me.” “What, Miss Lang, were you doing in my room?” “I knocked, and when there was no answer, I opened the door … I wanted to let you know that I was willing to forget about last night. Then I saw your room—it was so appealing that I just came in and did what you said—I took a little tour. I am so sorry, I did not mean to intrude on your privacy. Curiosity got the better of me … and at this point, I understand if you would like to terminate my contract and find someone else to finish the job.” He frowned darkly, and I could see his mind working fast. Half of him believed that it was just the female in me that had come in to look around. After all, nothing had been disturbed. He did not know I was a Fae. He had no reason to think me a thief, and he had no reason to think I knew anything about magic of any kind whatsoever. Still, I saw that he didn’t quite believe me. He was a Druid priest, and all his senses were on the alert. He knew he hadn’t received the whole truth. I saw it all in his deep, dark green eyes and the stance of his body. He meant to get to the bottom of his suspicions and had quite made up his mind that I was not going anywhere. “Were you looking for something for your collector boyfriend Miss Lang? Was that it?” He had me up against his body. His lips were at my ear. His hot breath tingled through me in a way that sent fluttery but not unpleasant shivers darting up and down my spine. I, however, went rigid in his hold. Suddenly I felt my knees become unsteady. What was happening to me? What was happening to him? He was morphing into the predator he was, into the predator that was always just hidden behind the surface. He growled at me. “I asked you a question, Willow Lang. Were you looking for something your collector boyfriend, Breslyn, wants?” His question startled me. What did he know? “Like what?” I returned a question for a question. I bit my lip as soon as the words were out. This was sure to stir him further. I was insane.

He didn’t go ballistic like I thought he would. Instead, he continued to breathe near my ear again in dulcet tones. I should have pulled away, or at least tried to pull away. I didn’t. “You tell me, Miss Lang … what does he believe I have?” His tongue tickled a path from my ear to my neck. “I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t have to stand here and take this. I’ll just pack and go.” I made a feeble attempt to pull out of his grip. “You, my dear, are not going anywhere …” he whispered, and now his mouth was on mine. All bets were off. All rules had gone by the wayside. He had decided that I was working for Breslyn and was therefore a thief and fair game! I was absolutely caught off guard. This was totally unexpected, and my body betrayed my good senses. I felt blood burn inside my veins. I felt an aching need between my thighs burst into full-blown lust. I had been holding back for so long. The woman in me wanted out, wanted to explore, wanted more of this, and wanted him to be the one to give it to me. He was pulling off my scarf; it fell to the floor, and my jacket went the same way. His large, capable hand went under my sweater and pulled the cups of my bra away and left them under my breasts. He fondled my breast as his tongue ravaged my own, and then his hand was moving down to my crotch. He worked me, and I didn’t want to stop him. His lips found my nipple, and as he suckled, I couldn’t stop myself from releasing a little cry of relief, and even as I sank shuddering in his arms from the aftershock of my orgasm, he was building me to a peak again. Gone was the girl that dreamed of a love, a relationship, and then sex. This girl wanted the sex, and she wanted it from him now … right then. His voice was husky as he whispered something low, and I couldn’t hear it as he kissed my face. And then he growled, “So hot, wee lass? So ready—for me … for this …” He was pulling off my sweater—nearly ripping off my bra. He was wielding me towards the kitchen floor and starting on my jeans. Kitchen floor, I yelled at myself. I didn’t listen. The Willow Lang that had arrived in Ireland nearly a month ago was gone and buried. I forgot where I was. I didn’t know who I had become. I knew what was happening, and I wanted it to … I knew his touch was driving me mad with pleasure, and I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything or anyone in my life. I heard a little voice in my head, and it begged me to think, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to think. I wanted this … I was fully naked and on my back on the kitchen floor. I was lost to what I was feeling, and what I was feeling was lost to him. I wanted him with a primal lust I had never experienced before. It was mindless. I was mindless. I wasn’t aware when exactly it was that he released his huge, hard cock from his jeans, but it was out, and it was dancing to a tune of his own as he lowered himself to me. That hard rod pressed against my belly as he suckled at my breasts, first one and then the other. He moved the palm of his hand over my nipples until I wanted to scream, and in fact I did more than whisper when I groaned—and it was without a trace of embarrassment or shame—“Yes, oh yes … yes …” “You are so beautiful lass, I want this to last. I want to take my time with you …” He kissed me again, and that magic tongue of his teased mine to respond in kind. And

then he kissed my nipples and then my belly, and then he nibbled between my thighs, and when he licked and nibbled my clit—I exploded again. All at once he made a savage sound that seemed to fill the air and took me to the heart of the jungle. It thrilled me, and then he lifted up my calves, bent my knees up and back, and exposed me to his huge, hard cock. He positioned himself to put that awesome, throbbing hot dick inside me, and I started bumping against it. He frowned as he found he couldn’t quite make it fit, and he whispered, “Ah lass, you are so wet and ready, but small and tight.” He bent over me, grabbed my butt, raised me, and then repositioned himself again. This time he got in far enough to drive it home, and I couldn’t help it—I released a little yelp as he tore through ‘where no one had ever gone before’, and abruptly he stopped. I saw his face, and it was filled with disbelief. “Lass … lass … this is your first time!” He made a distressed sound as he said, “I didn’t know … Willow … ye should have said … I would have been easier … sweet lass … och, but I never wanted to hurt you …” His brogue deepened with his sudden emotion. He seemed upset, almost annoyed. I saw a look of indecision on his face as he contemplated me, and so I said softly, invitingly, “I didn’t ask you to take it easy, Mister, because I didn’t want you to …” I wasn’t ashamed at my brazenness. I felt wanton and wanted to be. I lay there and looked at him to finish what he’d started. I pulled him back to me. I was molten lava, and I wanted everything I could get all at once. I wanted … my body wanted, and I bucked against him and demanded all of him. And when I saw him still hesitate, I grabbed hold with everything I had and drew him back deep inside … I didn’t want him to resist. I wanted to be irresistible to him. He heard and felt my desperation, and a slow smile curved his sensuous lips. I wanted him inside me, all of him, deep inside me, and now he knew it beyond all shadow of a doubt. I heard his low, hungry brogue. “Aye, then, Willow lass … if all of me is what ye be wanting, all of me is what ye’ll be getting!” I moaned with pleasure as his cock moved and thumped inside me. And then I lost count of the number of times he brought me to climax. He was strong and virile, and he wanted and knew how to please. He found places that I didn’t know I had, and he worked them until all I could make were whimpering animal sounds. He was what every woman dreamt of having in bed. His touch was magic. He wanted to please, and oh, how he pleased. He held himself in check until he thought I might be getting sore, and then he let go with a wild, feral, and guttural sound that exploded with my name. That pleased me as well—in fact, I think (like the mask) I purred. Although the heat we had produced between us was momentarily satiated and I half expected him to get up and leave me where I lay, he took me into his arms and held me tightly. He brushed my hair away from my face and kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, my lips so tenderly that all I wanted to do was stay in his arms forever. At some point he said, “Och, lass … sweet lass, forgive me. What am I about keeping you on this cold stone floor?” The next thing I knew he lifted me in his arms and carried me as though I were a babe. He took me upstairs and to his bedroom, where he set me on the bed and looked at me for a long time before he climbed on the bed beside me. “Willow … I … can’t get enough of you—I don’t think I will ever be able to get enough of you …” I looked at that large, throbbing rod of his as it gave the truth to his words, and I

laughed with satisfaction and a sudden sense of power, the kind of power all women must feel in the moment they know the man of their choice wanted them above all others. He grinned wickedly. “Och lass, if you keep looking at me like that …” And then all at once he was kissing me. I was kissing him back as I yanked him to me, but he had other plans, because he turned me around, lifted me onto my hands and knees on the bed, and grabbed hold of my butt in a way that made me mindless once again.

~ Twenty-one ~ “AIDA!” I turned around with my friend and found Breslyn stalking towards us. He looked irritated. “What are you doing here hanging outside the queen’s private chambers?” “Breslyn—oh, Breslyn … have you any word?” Aida clutched at his strong, bare arms. He looked my way, and I felt a rush of heat so I lowered my eyes to his sandaled feet. He brought my eyes back up to his beauteous face with a soft, “Hello, Ete.” “Breslyn,” I said softly. It was all I could manage. He turned back to his sister. “Word? Word of what?” “Desmond of course,” Aida snapped. “What else?” “Ah, Desmond …?” He frowned, and I saw the sudden dawning on his face. He had not realized until now that Desmond (Willow’s father) was Aida’s new love interest. He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. “No, Aida, how could I when the queen has not yet returned? Queen Mab and Aaibhe must have a great deal to talk about.” I took Aida’s hand and pulled her in for a hug, as I could see she was genuinely distressed. Breslyn came close to both of us and put a finger to her chin as he took pity on his sister. “Aida, you have nothing to worry about. Queen Mab would never hurt a Seelie Fae.” “Oh Breslyn, I am sure you are right,” she said hopefully. “But, I do so miss him.” I whispered to Aida, “I must go.” I had a date in fact and was already late. However, as I looked at Breslyn I was hard-pressed to leave. I strengthened my resolve and with a quick nod to my prince I said, “Later … Breslyn.” “Ete …”Aida said on a frantic note, “just one minute, please …” “But, Aida … you know that I am late.” “He will wait. Any and all our males would wait for you, and I cannot do this alone.” “You must,” I told her and touched her shoulder as I moved away. “Wait—what the devil? Who are you going to meet and why?” Breslyn snapped. “No time, Bres. Doing what you wanted … dating in my own age group.” I shifted off without another word. I waited a moment longer in another dimension, as I wanted to see what he would do. Aida was all tears still as she touched his arm. “Please, Bres … I have a secret. Ete made me promise to disclose it to you.” “First, Aida … tell me who this Fae is that Ete is going to meet, and where is she meeting him?” I smiled to myself, well pleased, and shifted off. You see, I found out who had hurt Shee Willow so badly that she didn’t want to return to Tir. It was Valtye, and I had seen him in action. Fae are lovely; however, some are prettier than others. We, like humans, prize beauty. It comes in many forms. Valtye cares about only one form, and had managed to hurt a few friends of mine as well as Willow. He deserved a lesson, I thought, and I also thought I should be the one to give him that lesson.

I’d made a date to meet him at the pavilion. He had tried to wield his way into my social life, but I had resisted until now. Ah, he was pacing … waiting for me … I worked Valtye. I wanted him to fall, hard, but I felt someone not far off, staring … ah, Breslyn. I saw him approach out of the corner of my eye. He had a look on his face that quite took my breath away. I swayed in the hope that the shimmering gold and blue material of my very short dress would display my figure alluringly. I touched my fingers to the one strap over my shoulder and ran my hand down my body to rest on my bare thigh. Every move said, Look at me, Breslyn, want me, Breslyn—I am all grown up … It made Valtye stare as well, and he whispered, “You are luscious …” I wanted to bat Valtye over the head, but I controlled myself. Breslyn moved towards us. He stared hard at Valtye. His voice was harsh and low. “Scat, brat.” Valtye turned to take the challenge and then saw it was the prince of Dagda. His eyes opened wide, and he bowed himself away. Breslyn looked at me. I gave him what I hoped was a mature and coy smile. I felt a swoosh of air escape my lungs. I think he had the same reaction. I managed to say lightly, “Why are you always chasing away my dance partners?” He didn’t answer. The next thing I knew I was in his arms. He moved me gently, led me softly to the sexy music floating in the air. Then all at once, he gave me my answer. “Because I don’t mean to allow you any other partner … only me, Ete … only me …” He had me raised and positioned for his kiss. I knew that Breslyn had finally made up his mind to have me. There was no stopping now. “Ete … I have been on fire for you. I love your quirky, endearing little mannerisms so different than any Fae I have ever known …” “But you are afraid of the ‘the dreaded forever’,” I said softly. I knew I was pushing it, but I wanted it from him. I knew forever for us, for all Fae, was unending. Unlike humans we do not ordinarily die. Forever is a dangerous word. It was going to take a leap for him to give me that promise. “Ete … I have been told that I have never known true love … and I now know that was right. Until you … until you, Ete. I burn for you, I want you with me always, I need you … I don’t think I can ever know happiness without you in my life. Ete … I want you forever.” His lips met mine. His tongue called for mine. His arms held me tightly, and he shifted us right then and there to his palace, to his room, to his bed … all the while he was kissing me. “I have been waiting for you, Breslyn … there has never been another,” I whispered, and I heard the husky timbre of my voice. “I know, my love, and there never will be another for either of us,” he whispered back. “Eternity with you, Ete, no longer sounds forbidding … eternity with you is all I want. It is an absolute I cannot deny.”

~ Twenty-two ~ I COULDN’T MOVE. Shayne Bantry had the strength of an army of virile men. He had made love to me in ways I never thought possible. I couldn’t recognize myself. Had that been me? Had I responded to him in that voracious and savage way? I was both pleasantly surprised and shocked at my reaction to Shayne Bantry and his lovemaking. I wanted him again and again, but at some point he breathed a low groan and hugged me to him, whispering in my ear, “Ah, Willow, softly now … lay still. I don’t want to hurt you, and hurt you I will if I don’t give that sweet honey pot a rest.” I laughed. “Honey pot?” “Aye then, the sweetest, loveliest, tightest, sexiest pot a man could ever hope to have.” I snuggled backward against him and sighed contentedly. There had been no talk of ‘love’ during our passion. He had raved about my body, my skin, and my eyes while he made love to me, but no talk of love. For a tiny moment, I felt insecure, but I brushed it away. I knew what I felt, although I wasn’t ready to put it into words. How would he respond? Words were dangerous things. I left them in the recesses of my mind. I was content with the moment. I was content with the now. He whispered, “I can’t believe no one has ever claimed you. Are they all blithering idiots in America?” I loved his Irish brogue and giggled. “There are idiot men all over the world …” I suddenly thought of Valtye and shoved it aside. For a fleeting moment, I wondered what Shayne Bantry would do if he knew I was half Tuatha Dé. He was a high Druid priest who had turned his back on the Fae he had pledged to honor. What would he say when I finally told him what I was? And I would have to tell him … yes, but not then. I didn’t want anything to spoil that moment. Eventually, we would talk and I would tell him. I studied the tattooed band around his bicep. The ancient design was made up of parallel lines and Celtic knots in black, crimson, and green. The runes were meant to ward off Dark Magic during the process of enacting that same Dark Magic. My father used to stress the point, Willow, exercise caution when you use the Dark Magic I have taught you … because even the simplest kinds have a habit of coming back at you. So I knew all about the little life black magic envelops. It stores itself, and it could come back in an ominous way. Why then had Shayne Bantry begun indulging in the art? To what end? His flat iron belly was partially tattooed as well in the manner of arcane braids and singularly designed etchings. Just who was this hard-rock hunk that lay beside me? I said tentatively, “These tattoos … they are ancient runes.” It was not a question. He stopped his nibbling and turned my face gently with his large hand. “Aye lass … but what do you know of runes?”

I didn’t want to lie. How could I make passionate love to him one moment and distrust him the next? Did I distrust him? A part of me—maybe? Maybe was a dangerous word. It left you on a ledge. Sometimes there was a steep fall if you chose unwisely. Sometimes you had to shove the ‘maybes’ away and take that leap of faith. In philosophy we learned that reason can take you so far, and at some point you have to take a leap of faith. Sometimes you have to trust the very person you aren’t sure you should trust. Sometimes. I wasn’t quite ready to take that giant leap. I sucked in air and tried a halfway measure. Baby steps—that was the ticket I went for. I’d give him a little at a time, and maybe he would return the favor? “Shayne … I know that you believe in the Fae … in the Tuatha Dé …” I waited for his reaction. He sat up and pulled me up with him. He looked at me intently. “And how would you be knowing that, lass? How would ye be knowing anything about the Fae?” “That day you and Roland were in the library—you spoke in Roma … and I heard you say something about the Fae. I know you believe in them.” His dark green eyes narrowed. “You speak Romany? How would an American artist know the gypsy tongue?” “I understand gypsy and quite a few other languages as well, but that is not what I am trying to tell you. Please … just let me try and get this out, because it isn’t easy. I have a secret that I have kept all my life so that I could fit in … but, you need to know—I need to tell you …” Here goes, I told myself. The question—was I going to lose this man? I didn’t want to lose him. He made me feel alive—made me feel as though I had finally arrived, and found myself. I knew beyond any shadow of any doubt that Shayne Bantry was who I needed and wanted. I had to tell him the truth—at least some of the truth … “Go on, lass …” he prompted, but I could see the doubts in the recesses of his dark green eyes. I could see the sudden mistrust. “My mother was Irish—as were all her ancestors,” I started, trying a little history to ease the moment. “Aye then.” He grinned for a careless moment and said, “So then, you were always meant to return home and find me.” However, the doubt in his eyes narrowed them again. “So then, no great secret in—” I cut him off. “Hush—listen.” He put a finger to his mouth, and suddenly the doubt had been replaced with a smile in his eyes. It made me hopeful, so I continued, “There is—you are probably aware of it—an instance when a human can see past Fae Glamour, past the cloak of invisibility and recognize a Tuatha Dé when they leave Tir to visit and play in the human world. The Fae called them Shee Fios. Shee Fios are usually women, and the ability usually is handed down by the mother.” I waited. This was such a lie by omission that I felt my cheeks flush. I am not really a Sidhe (Shee) Fios. I am half Fae with some abilities of a Fios … My gut told me I had just started out wrong with him. I should have stayed quiet until I could have told him the entire truth. However, it was too late. I had already instigated a reaction. His eyebrows went up, and then I could see a long, slow dawning. “Never say so. I have heard of the Fios and their abilities. Me dad spoke of it once … and you … you are saying that you are a Seer?” I should have put a halt to it then and there. I should have said, no. I should have told him what I really was. I suddenly wanted to burst into tears, and it took everything I had

to stop myself from doing that. I couldn’t tell him anymore. I had to see first what his reaction would be. I had to see if he would trust me. “In a way …” It was all I could muster. He frowned and touched my cheek. “Ah … you have some of yer mum’s gifts but not all … is that it, lass?” “Yes.” I felt my cheeks burn. He drew me to him and softly whispered, “We all have secrets, love.” “Including you.” Ah, my opening. I had made a statement. Trust had to go both ways, or it wouldn’t work. “Aye then, including me,” he answered on a heavy sigh. “And since I have confided in you—I know you wish to confide in me. You can start small … as I have …” I offered insouciantly. “Small?” He was betrayed into astonishment. “What secret greater than that do ye have?” “No. It is your turn,” I urged. I was in his arms, my head on his rippled chest as he lay back against the pillows resting against the ornately carved dark headboard. “Yes, I do believe in the Tuatha Dé, hell—I know some of the Tuatha Dé! However, I no longer—but never mind that. It has been a family … a closely guarded family secret,” he said tightly. “Yes … go on. After all, as I said a moment ago, I know already that you believe in the Fae.” I also knew he was a Druid priest, but I oh so wanted him to tell me. It came rolling off his lips with a dark smile. “I am a high Druid priest … or at least I was …” He frowned as thoughts warred with each other in his head. When he continued, I could hear the heavy beating of his heart, and I saw a shadow of pain in his eyes, “A high Druid priest like my father before me, and his father before him if you get the picture. I trained with me dad from nearly the moment I could walk and talk.” He eyed me and squeezed me tight. “Does that worry you off?” He had my chin in his hand, and suddenly the troubled look took on a tinge of concern. It disturbed me, that concern. What was it? What had happened to this man? Why did I feel as though he were getting ready to push me away? Was I going to lose him after this? If not today … later when he finally discovered what I was? “No,” I answered him in a voice I didn’t recognize as my own. It was almost primal, and I hugged him tightly. “I find that exciting and one more thing to admire about you. But, what did you mean, you were a priest?” “My father would turn in his grave if he knew I had turned my back on my heritage. He took our duties deadly serious. He was honored to perform the rituals for the Fae …” “You have turned your back on your heritage? Why?” I prompted him. “I have reason,” he said on a hard note, and I rather thought that was all he was going to say. “You can’t give something like that up. Being a high Druid priest is a part of who and what you are. You have powers and abilities in your blood. You were born with amazing gifts. You have a sworn duty to uphold the Fae Sacred Rituals …” He kissed my forehead. “And how does my wee Shee Fios know all that?” “Ah, I have a few abilities of my own,” I answered vaguely. He eyed me hard—questioningly for a moment. “What I find to be more than a coincidence is that of all the artists in the world, I should pick the one who is Fae

acquainted, so to speak.” “I agree.” I had thought this more than once in the last couple of weeks. “I would say it has the weave of Fae somewhere in it …” He sighed. “Och, lass, but I am thankful for it.” That got my heart pounding, and I ran my hand over his hard abs and sighed. I looked up to watch the flitting expressions cross his face as he went deep into thought. I reached up and touched his shadowed cheek. I wanted him back with me, not in the dungeons of his mind. His jaw line was rigid, but his green eyes glittered as he smiled down at me and bent to drop a kiss on my lips. His voice was low as he murmured, “Ah precious love, glad I am that you shared your secret with me.” “One secret … and not the whole one—I figure a little at a time …” He grinned and then got a damnable expression on his face as he said huskily, “At this moment, I want to just hold onto my wee lass and keep holding on.” He kissed my forehead, and his voice came out hushed and yet somehow fierce. “How did you stay so innocent … so untouched? Don’t American men have eyes?” I giggled. “A whole lot of men … everywhere have eyes. That doesn’t make them— any of them—the one I was looking for.” His voice was soft and yet intense once more. “And I turned out to be the one … the one to take you … am I the one? Because I am telling you now, my Willow lass, now that I have you … I am not letting go.” He brushed my long hair away from my neck; he rolled me over, dropped light kisses along my trembling spine as his hands headed for my waist, where he began to massage and manipulate as his fingers trailed to and took hold of my butt. His touch was magic. His touch was irresistible. His touch set me on fire—his touch turned me about so that my butt was pressed against his cock! He nibbled and kissed and told me how perfectly shaped I was, how beautifully made for him. Suddenly he started to pull away, and I felt the effort that it took to do so with a twinge of pride. Softly he whispered, “Willow, my sweet Willow … you are going to have to get out of this bed if I am to keep my hands off of you.” He sighed. “You melt my will. You turn me into an animal without thought …” I bucked backward against him. “That is just how I want you,” I whispered to him as I moved to entice him further. “Don’t resist me, Shayne—I don’t want you to resist me … for any reason.” “Ah lass, my dear sweet lass—I don’t want to ride you raw …” His voice was a husky hue of controlled passion, and the sound of his words thrilled and filled me with abandon. I felt his hard rod pressed against my ass and wiggled and pushed against him so that he would have no doubt that I was ready once more for all of him. “My wee naughty lass … I fear you won’t be able to walk,” he said on a hard, rough note. “At the moment, my Druid priest, I am not interested in walking,” I answered. Yes, I was a brazen, wanton savage woman full of lust and need, and it felt so right. There was something else. He heard me affectionately, sweetly call him a Druid priest, and I saw a flash of appreciation in his dark green eyes. He liked the sound of the words on my lips. He liked being a Druid priest. I saw it. I knew it in that moment. Why then had he given it up? How had the Fae wronged him? But that was a question for later … much later.

At that moment in time … there were only the two of us—the world had already vanished. We should always cherish the good moments—they can be snatched away so unexpectedly! *** We stood on Breslyn’s balcony overlooking his lovely lake. His strong arms were wrapped around me, and he held me as though he would never let me go. He whispered my name. “Ete.” It was all he could say, but I knew what it meant. I was naked, inside and out, exposed to my prince for all time. There was a mortal poet who wrote, ‘The mind has a thousand eyes, and the heart but one … ’ It was how I felt. We Fae do not have the exact physical equivalent of the human heart, but we do have the capacity to experience that all-consuming emotion—love. I sighed as those thoughts skittered through my mind. Breslyn was all around me, and inside me. We were now connected in so many ways, on so many levels. What we had was rare amongst Fae. Our connection was not readily translated from ancient Danu to human speak—but I must try. Croi. Croi is translated as the spark within a Fae’s essence. That spark lays dormant until it is lucky enough to find its counterpart. It very nearly contained a life of its own, and when it discovered the Yang to its Ying and joined with its mate, there was scarcely anything short of ceasing to exist that could pull them asunder. That was the Fae Croi … perhaps something like humans’ true love. Our essence (Breslyn’s and mine) was wrapped up in our croi, and Breslyn and I had bonded in a way that made us truly one. Fini. I could go on and on, but I shan’t because something is about to happen, and I don’t know what to do about it. Breslyn must have felt me tense. He whispered, “What is it, Ete my love?” “Bres—I am having … an episode …” I said on a hushed tone. I don’t have discernable premonitions like our Queen Aaibhe experiences. I don’t see into the future, or the past, but I get ‘feelings’ that are usually unclear. They were annoying because all they served to do, really, was to alert me that something was about to happen. I rarely knew when where or how. However, this time my ‘feeling’ was very different. This time it was forming a picture—hazy, but recognizable all the same. “An episode …?” My prince was unfamiliar with this ability of mine, as I had never mentioned them to anyone other than my family. “Yes … something like—what your humans call a ‘gut feeling’ …” I touched his cheek. “I know that you are subject to them now and then, but, Breslyn—this one is more …” He looked concerned. “And you are having one of these ‘feelings’ right now?” I didn’t want our private time together to be cut short. I didn’t want the images I had seen to intrude, but he needed to know, and I needed to tell him. However, Breslyn’s hands moved over my body as he spoke, and his question had faded away as his lips scorched my skin. If Fae could really blush, I would have been just then, and my eyes did in fact find my feet. I couldn’t speak. I was caught up in the moment of us, but Breslyn was made of sterner stuff. He knew I was troubled, and that became his focus. He raised my chin so that his eyes found and penetrated mine. “Tell me, beloved.”

“You won’t like it, and it will be difficult for you to hear.” “Tell me all the same.” It still seemed so far away, and yet it wasn’t so very long ago. Only a few short months ago actually. There was only one way to start. I dove headlong into it. I had to get it said and over with although I didn’t want to remember when I had found myself at Gaiscioch’s mercy … “When Gaiscioch abducted me—he subdued me for a time. He used the ancient method and put his hands to my forehead in order to silence me. I—I was not totally unconscious as I pretended to be and held his wrist long enough to get a memorable read off of him.” My prince stiffened. I knew he recalled the day he had found me on the little island in Killarney with the Chain of Balor tethering me to the earth. “You are right. I don’t like it at all and it is more than difficult to hear, and I still want you to explain.” “I used that time to get a read on his psyche, and it worked. I was able to relay to the queen what I picked up at that time undetected by him.” “And what does that have to do with here and now, beloved?” He teased my mouth with his sizzling tongue. I know he could see how deeply I had been affected by the incident. I could see he wanted to ease me. I put up my hand to stay him … for only a moment. He saw how serious I was and stopped to look at me. “I have not felt Gaiscioch since that day … until just a little while ago,” I said, though I know I was scarcely audible. “What in thunder are you saying?” Breslyn had my shoulders. He looked down at me and then suddenly he slammed me back into his arms and held me tightly before he allowed a little space between us and said more calmly, “Tell me, Ete.” “Well, I shall if you will not crush me, my Prince.” I was surprised to hear myself laugh, because I honestly did not feel like laughing. He raised a brow, and I proceeded. “A little while ago—I felt him opening a huge portal to the human Realm. I felt him testing the portal’s potency. I also felt—no … not felt, I think I heard a whisper—something about a gypsy, and that was all, Breslyn. This was the first time I have ever gotten so much clarity from one of my ‘feelings’. What can it possibly mean?” “Nothing good, Ete … nothing good.” Breslyn kissed my forehead and rested his chin on my head. “What must we do?” “The hardest thing, but the most effective thing we can do is bide our time. Gaiscioch will make a mistake. We have to wait until he makes his move … thinks he has it over on us … and then we can strike with power.” He sighed over the strategy. “However, I believe there is no doubt about it—your heightened sense of sight must have been activated, because he has had some success with opening a portal for the dark abominations …” My prince became lost in thought for a moment, and I waited, knowing he was thinking it out. Finally he said, “We are facing a dangerous future, Ete. There will be serious repercussions from what Gais is doing … and we must be prepared …” “How much time before he strikes?” Breslyn shrugged. “I am not certain. I don’t think he has found a way to get around Queen Aaibhe’s curse. I think he is still stuck in the Dark Realm and can only make short

visits outside its hold. I think we have time to gather our forces.” “We are outnumbered.” “Aye, but we Seelie Fae have powers the dark ones have never dreamt of.” “And the gypsy? What can that mean?” “Ah gypsies. They stole some of our minor spells all those centuries ago and have been making mischief with them ever since. A gypsy will do what they do …” “Yes, but this is different.” “How, my sweet love?” “I don’t know, Breslyn … but … something awful is about to happen, and a gypsy will be involved.” He frowned over this for a moment. “We will keep a close watch …” he whispered softly. He lifted me in his arms and murmured in my ear, “My Ete … we won’t let anything happen to our humans or our world, mark me on that.” His voice was hard, determined. “The monsters of the Dark Realm were attached to our world when we came here from Danu. It is our responsibility to guard the human Realm from the atrocities these abominations would inflict on them if they escape in total.” “We can’t be everywhere, and they are so many.” I was genuinely worried. “The queen has a plan, and I think it is a good one. It starts with protecting our very most talented Druids and making sure they enact the four rituals at the given time. Samhain is fast approaching.” I sighed. “And in the meantime …?” He grinned wickedly. “Ah … in the meantime …” His hands began to travel over me. “What are you doing?” I knew exactly what he was doing, but the question came out of me in spite of the sure knowledge. “I am taking you to our bed, beloved … so ask me what I am going to do when I get you there.” I asked, and he answered … *** I gazed around Shayne Bantry’s richly masculine room with a contented sigh. I looked at the huge bed and noted we were so close together that the king bed looked empty. Another satisfied sigh escaped me. However, reality demanded, intruded, and was an annoying thing. It slapped me into saying, “We have to get out of this bed.” I said it, but I don’t think I really meant it. “No, we don’t … well, not until we absolutely positively have to eat. Then I will get out of this bed and fetch us a tray, and you will wait here for me …” Shayne said in that brogue I could listen to forever and never tire of hearing. I noticed his accent thickened during our lovemaking. Then all at once it dawned on me. “Oh my gosh! Bridget will be here any moment, and oh, Shayne—what will she think … oh …” He laughed right out loud at me. And then he touched my mouth with his finger. He outlined the shape of my lips, and then he stared at me with those dreamy eyes. All at once he grew serious, dead serious. “I called Bridget last night and left her a message. I gave her the day off, and even if she were to come in here and find us like this, I have a notion that she would tell me it was about time I fixed on a lass and, Willow, so I have.” “So you have what, sir?” I wanted to hear him say it.

“Fixed on a lass,” he said on a low, possessive note. I was filled with pleasure. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of undying love, but it was on its way … His words worked their path through my brain, tickled my heart, and made me close my eyes and dream of things I had no right to dream about so soon. They say women are ‘nesters’—that it is part of our internal need, the desire to nest around one man. I don’t know if that was true in general, but I thought it was true about me. I was only half teasing when I answered him, “Yes, that is all well and fine for you— but I work here and—” He stopped me with a kiss and a laugh. “If you work here, then it is at my discretion and my will, and my will puts you here and now in my bed!” “Listen to me, big boy …” I wagged my finger at him with a smile as I started to climb out of bed. “It isn’t your will that puts me here in your bed. It is my will, and at the moment my will says that I have things to—” Again, he cut me off; this time he frowned as he pulled me back, folded me into his arms, and softly asked, “What, wee Fios,, do you have to do that cannot be put off till tomorrow?” “I have to go into town. I need a few supplies so that I can finish the job you hired me to do,” I said silkily, biting my own lips to stop from giggling at his expression. He tickled my belly and then dropped kisses on it. His tongue worked a red-hot path up to my nipple, where he began suckling in a way that made me afraid to move because I didn’t want him to stop. All of a sudden he scooped me up and headed for the bathroom. He set me down, turned on the wonderful multiple shower jets, and pulled me under its soothing warmth with him. It was heavenly, and then he kissed me again, and his tongue was doing the Tango down my throat, teasing mine to respond, and it did—I did. I grabbed hold of that hard thing that never seemed to be anything else but rock hard and ready. And then … and then I touched his smooth, sculptured chest and my heart pounded and my head warned me that I was falling too hard, too fast … It was so much later when I finally demanded, “Food … coffee … come on, let’s go raid the kitchen. I think I will eat everything in sight.” He threw on his velvety dark green robe and handed me a soft white one that hung around my ankles. I tied it in place, and hand in hand we went down to the kitchen. I was downing my second cup of coffee when the phone rang. He put down his mug and, frowning, mumbled, “Who can that be?” I could see that he thought it was a business call and that he would rather have let it go. I waved him to go ahead and get it. He did, and I watched his happy face turn grim. “And what would ye be wanting with her, Roland?” He listened for a moment and came to me with the phone. “Roland—for you … he says it’s important.” Gone was the youthful joy I had been privileged to see in his eyes, only moments ago. Now I frowned. I had a bad feeling about this. Why would Roland be calling me? I took the receiver and said as lightly as I could, “Hi, Ro, what’s up?” I listened to his story. He had acquired an unknown painting by the Dutch artist Ruisdael from the 1600s. The name was nearly obliterated, but there was no doubt it was a Ruisdael. However, time had left its mark, and it needed restoration. The painting was

called Dragon Dance. He wanted to know if I would meet him at his cottage and have a look at it. He needed this favor, as he intended to start up his own gallery since Bantry had given him the boot without notice. I listened to his hurried conversation. There was something there that did not ring true. I couldn’t say what and I couldn’t say why I felt that way, but all my senses were on the alert. Hell no, I wasn’t going to his cottage. But … a Ruisdael, my inner voice objected. The prospect of examining a rare Ruisdael was too exciting to pass up. Roland had in his possession an unknown piece by an artist whose work I greatly admired. How could I not have a look at it? “Roland, I am planning to go into Killarney this afternoon to collect some supplies I need. If you like you can meet me in town and show me the painting while I am there.” I heard the hesitation in Roland’s sigh. I could tell that he didn’t like this arrangement, and he made another mild attempt to get me to his place. “Willow, I don’t like traveling about with this piece. As you know it is extremely valuable. Look—I am not so far out of town and not at all out of the way of Bantry … are you sure you couldn’t swing by?” It sounded harmless enough, but my gut was shouting at me. “Gee, Roland, I am so sorry, but I am on a tight schedule today. Just keep it crated, and it won’t come to any harm.” He answered, “Okay then, why don’t we do this: we can meet on the corner of the Red Bull … how does that sound?” “Fine, near the Red Bull then,” I answered. I put the phone down on the table and looked up to find Shayne’s eyes scanning my face as though he were trying to read my mind. I smiled reassuringly at him. “He says he has a painting he wants me to look at. Apparently he means to start up a business of his own because you fired him. Looks like you are going to have a little competition going on in the neighborhood.” I teased to lighten the moment. Shayne snorted. “Fired him? He is lucky I didn’t kill him. Competition? I wouldn’t have minded that if that was what this was all about, but I don’t believe it.” “What then is it, Shayne?” I frowned to myself over the matter. He shook his head. “I’m not sure. Roland is up to something, and it isn’t anything honest or ambitious like starting up a reputable firm. Roland is always about instant gratification.” Shayne pulled at his lower lip, and I had the sudden urge to nip him there. “There is something more to this than meets the eye—that you can depend on. Roland has been sending me on wild goose chases while he searched for a Relic he knows I am desperately attempting to acquire.” Shayne shook his head. “While I don’t expect that he should feel himself beholden to me in any way, I do expect some level of loyalty from the people who work for me.” Again that shake of his oh so handsome head. “No … Roland is up to something, but I’m damned if I know what it is.” Well, okay. I could see that Shayne actually hadn’t a clue about Roland’s extracurricular activities. “Why do you think he is up to something … do you have a reason?” I asked, watching his face. I didn’t care about Roland or Roland’s motives. What I wanted to know was something closer to home. What I wanted—needed—to know was anything and everything about Shayne Bantry. “Why? I don’t know why. All I know is all my life experiences tell me that Roland is no one’s friend and is presently up to his knees in something I cannot fathom.” He was evading my question. He didn’t really want to say anything further. I could see he didn’t

wish to lie to me, but he didn’t want to tell me anything more either. “Why are you desperate for this Relic?” I tried another avenue. “Because it harbors a power that I need,” he said curtly, almost coldly. “What power?” I ignored the brush off and pursued. I wanted him to tell me. I wanted him to trust me, confide in me. I didn’t want any secrets between us. I suppose that was the woman in me. I wondered if Fae females felt the same when they were in love. Oh my goodness—had I just thought that? Love? Was I in love? “Not today—you have another secret you wish to keep for the time being, and so do I, Willow. You offered me only part truths, and I accepted and respected your need to tell me in slow degrees and at your discretion the things you hide from the world. Respect that need in me.” Well, that was laying it on the line, and he was right. I wasn’t ready to tell him I was half Fae. I was still so afraid of what his reaction might be. I let it go … for the moment. “At any rate …” I managed to say lightly, “I told Roland I would meet him in front of the Red Bull at one today.” Shayne was already reaching for my hands and pulling me out of my seat. “Right then, one it is, and I am going with you.” He had both his arms around me and was bending to nibble at my neck. “Oh no, I don’t need babysitting. I can manage Roland quite nicely on my own.” I cocked a smile at him. “You think you can handle Roland on your own, but, lass, he is a very unpredictable and dangerous man. He is driven by greed and has no scruples.” Shayne was dead serious. “So Roland is missing some important scruples—this will be broad daylight. What do I have to worry about in broad daylight? I will look at the painting and tell him what he needs to know and then be done with him. No danger in that.” “Fine—I’ll go to town with you. We’ll have lunch, and after he arrives, you will ask him to join you for a pint inside the pub. I don’t want you going alone to his car—do ye get me on this, lass?” I thought about it for a moment and decided that perhaps he might be right. I nodded. He nodded back. “Good on ye, love. Right then, when he arrives, I will excuse myself and go outside. When he has left you safe and sound inside the pub, I will escort you home. But mind lass, I won’t wait long. He has no business asking this favor of you.” Shayne’s voice held a note of emphasis that would brook no argument. I do not take orders. I have always been independent and in control of my life. However, this time, whether he was jealous or just being protective, I felt bathed in his attention, and that make it all okay. I didn’t want to argue with his plan. At any rate, I didn’t have a chance to answer as at that point he scooped me up into his arms, and I gasped, “What are you doing?” “Well … we don’t have much time now do we …” He smiled softly, but that softness was belied by the palpably erotic heat emanating from his eyes. I gave him an evil look. “I thought you said you were worried about making me sore?” “Aye, lass, but you had a shower, a rest, and a bite to eat. I think it is time now you had a wee dessert …” “There is nothing ‘wee’ about the dessert you want to feed me.” I laughed. He stopped and looked into my eyes. “Och, lass … my own sweet Willow … are ye

then too sore? Am I a brute …?” He started to put me on my feet. “You will be a brute if you put me down,” I whispered then, all at once insanely filled with desire for him. “Come on, bucko mine—I’m ready,” I answered and was amazed at how husky my voice sounded even to me. He was serious all at once as he hugged me to him. “Aye then—but lass … one day— one day in the future, I hope you will find it in you to forgive me, and not hate me …” Forgive him? Hate him? What was he talking about? How could I hate him? I adored him. What could be so bad that what I felt now would turn to hate?

~ Twenty-three ~ HE COULDN’T STOP touching me. He was a royal Fae prince with thousands of years and oh so many interludes and affairs before me, but I could see that now he was out of control. And it thrilled me. He told me that I bewitched him. He told me that he suddenly viewed the world in a different light, a better one. He told me that I filled the void in his life. He told me he was mine, my Breslyn, Royal Fae Prince of the House of Dagda. He said he never thought he would welcome the moment he gave himself forever to another. He liked his life. He enjoyed his position, his power, and his freedom. Stasis. It was our way of life. Humans would say, ‘It is what it is.’ His royal house was known as the House of the Father Protector. It was his heritage. It had always been a part of what and who he was. I think it made him feel so much more than most Fae are capable of feeling … His love for me caught him by surprise. He told me that he wanted to lose himself in my eyes. He took my hair in his hands when he spoke. “Ete … I love your auburn tresses … they are so silky … so soft …” His tongue burned a soft trail from the lobe of my ear to the hollow of my neck. “Breslyn … love …” “Ete … I need to tell you …” I put a finger to his lips, and he kissed it before taking my hand and kissing the palm to whisper, “There is so much I need to tell you …” “Shhh … don’t tell me anything now.” “Why, little love? Are you afraid I will say something to you in the heat of passion that I won’t mean? Do you think I don’t have more sense than that? Ete, I have lived so many thousands of years, and I know the difference between lust and love. I have lusted before, but never before like this. I have loved before you, Ete. What male Fae my age could not have been in love …? But, I have never felt this …” He touched my chin and said, declared, “This completeness. You are my forever love. Ete, my beauty—I know I am your first, and I so hope I will make you happy, Ete.” I laughed, and the sound was full of joy because I was. “Breslyn, do you not know how long I have followed you around waiting for this moment? There is no Fae like you. You are not only a prince of birth, but also a prince of character. You are everything I want.” He kissed me then, long and slow.. I pulled away slightly and whispered, “My Prince … there is something you should know.” “All I need to know is what I feel,” he answered emphatically. “Still … it must be said and put away.” “What, beauty …?”

“You know I am the queen’s cousin … a descendent of her Royal House.” “Yes, so …” His eyebrows lifted. “Do you not think the queen will approve? Oh … I am sure she will.” “She has wanted this and both approves and encourages. However, you will remember what the queen confided to you about her heritage, about Queen Mab … being her aunt …?” “I do remember. How could I forget? The queen is Daoine. It really explained a great deal and—” “And what does that bring to mind, my love?” I cut him off sweetly, and my eyes twinkled as I moved my brows expressively. “Bring to mind? Well … it answers the question I always had about—” He cut himself off and looked at me then with slow dawning. “The queen is Daoine … which makes you … Ete … you are Daoine!” He was openly amazed. I laughed, Breslyn didn’t babble, but I could see he was on the verge. He was nearly shouting, “Ete, you are a Fae of the Earth—Nature. Ete—you are a—” “Yes, I am Daoine on my mother’s side and Tuatha Dé on my father’s side,” I said softly. “No big deal.” My heritage was something I had been taught to if not ‘conceal’, never speak about. My parents felt I would be more comfortable with my peers, if we did not mention my Daoine line. “By Danu …” Breslyn was stroking my face, and there was light tease in his eyes as he said, “A very big deal and only fitting for the royal prince of Dagda!” He drew me to him and held me tightly. I giggled and managed in spite of the wonderful hold he had on me to slap his arm and whisper, “Arrogant Prince …”And then all at once, our peace was at an end as our heads whipped up and to attention. “Ete! Breslyn!” The call was loud, it was clear, and it came at once to both of us in our minds. It was his sister, Aida. And she was calling from somewhere in Breslyn’s Castle.

~ Twenty-four ~ “OH THIS CAR hugs the curves, even at this speed, like a dream.” I laid my head back against the luxurious headrest and sighed. Roland had proved to be a ‘no show’, and that was good and that was bad. It was good that nothing uncomfortable had occurred. It was bad, because I knew he would call again. I shoved that concern aside and looked at Shayne, who took the road like a man who took his stairs two by two. He was in one hell of a hurry. His smile was full of mischief and intent. “Does it move like a dream for you, my sweet lass?” He looked sideways at me and grinned wickedly. “Right now it is moving too slowly for me!” I looked at him. He was so very sensual from the top of his glorious head of black, layered hair, right down to his silver-tipped boots. His shoulders in his black leather, pilot-styled jacket were made for the wonderfully muscled arms and chest he sported. His hands were large and sensitive, and he knew how to use them in a way that turned me into a tart with one goal. I thought of all the women he must have had before me, and a green-eyed monster reared up in my brain. I discovered that I was jealous, seriously, dangerously jealous. I never thought that I would be. His hand was on my jean clad thigh, moving up to my crotch, where he grabbed a firm hold of me and squeezed in a way that made me want to rip my clothes off and beg him to finish there and then what he had started. “Aye, lass … I told you, didn’t I that I can’t get enough of you. I have half a mind to pull over and take you here and now …” “I have half a mind to let you …” I couldn’t believe my own voice—husky and full with desire. Was this Willow Lang? Did I say those words right out loud? Did I actually mean it? Yes … I meant it. I would let him strip me and take me right then at the edge of the road if he chose to. So here I was, and I had to ask, where was this ‘me’ before Shayne Bantry? He had slowed the BMW, and I could see he was looking for a private section of roadside when someone came up behind us and gave us the horn. We turned, looked, and laughed. He took my hand and squeezed it. “I think I’ll get you home first as I don’t want anyone stopping to gawk at my woman.” His woman? He had called me ‘his woman’. Well, now that had turned me into a mindless fool. I wanted to just get right up and dance and sing and tell the world, I was Shayne Bantry’s woman. Probably not politically correct, but it felt so damn good! We got to the gate, where Bridget stuck her head out the gatehouse window and waved to us. No doubt about it: Bridget was up on every score. We waved back, drove on, looked at each other, and laughed like a couple of teens. We seemed to have a mind

meld. Laughter came so darn easy. I don’t really know what happened next. One minute he had parked haphazardly in the courtyard, and the next he had my hand and dragged me inside. He had my jacket off in the Central Hall. His came off soon after. He pulled off my blue sweater, and let me tell you, this hunk of man was deftly skilled because somehow my bra went with it. His face was buried in my breasts as he walked me backward towards the staircase. His shirt was gone, and I was staring at his amazing rune tattoos. One of his hands was driving me wild as he expertly fondled my breast, and then bent to kiss my nipple. His other hand was undoing the zipper of his jeans. Somehow he lowered me onto the stairs, where he pulled off my jeans (no easy job that, as they were tight fitting, and yet, gone). Thongs? I don’t know how or where they went. He had my knees parted, he had his hands full with my breasts, and he had his tongue between my thighs licking and nibbling until he found the spot and worked it. He vibrated that spot with his fingers and lapped it with his tongue, and all at once I grabbed hold of his hair and my head went back, my body arched, and I let out a long groan of pleasure. Pleased with himself, he brought his head up to grin. “Och, lass, I’ve wanted to taste you since we got into the BMW. I wanted to ditch going to town and just do this again and again …” I moved forward and reached for his huge, throbbing dick and got into position. He saw what I wanted and got into position as well. I took his cock to my lapping tongue, and he cupped my breast with one hand while his other pushed my hair away from my face. “Hmmm,” was all I could manage as I teased it and felt it throb. It jerked and danced to my touch. I liked the feeling of power his hunger gave me. I wanted to fill his mind. I wanted him to ache for me. I wanted this feeling between us to last forever. I started sucking vigorously on that rock-hard thing, and I heard a low, savage sound burst from his lungs! He was almost on the edge of roughness as he pushed me back against the stairs and parted my thighs once more. He placed his huge, wide cock at the entrance between my legs and whispered, “Want this, Willow …? Tell me you want this, my beautiful lass.” “Now … right now.” It was as though the words were wrenched from somewhere deep inside me. “I wanted to play with you … I wanted to hold off just a bit longer, but och, Willow … I can’t!” He shoved himself into me hard and fast. He pumped until I wanted to scratch and claw at his back, and then he withdrew. My eyes flew open, and I looked into his deep green warm eyes with surprise, and waited. He rubbed his dick up and down along those begging, quivering lips between my thighs, and I bucked against him. “Shayne …” I begged as I moved in wild abandon. “What—tell me … what, my beauty?” He meant to prolong this. The tease was in his touch, and in his eyes. So I said it, what he wanted to hear. “Fuck me … Shayne Bantry … fuck me now …” He laughed with deep satisfaction. “I want you to want me … only me …” “And I do, so take me … now …” I was amazed at myself. No shyness here. Shy Willow all gone! “Anything for my woman,” he whispered near my ear as he put his cock in place and

shoved it deep. As he pumped inside me, he simultaneously turned us round so that he was sitting on the stairs and I was riding him, and all I wanted to do was stay right there in his arms forever. *** Breslyn blinked, and we were clothed. A moment later he returned us to his charming balcony. Once we were situated there at the black wrought iron furniture, he told his sister to join us. As soon as I saw my friend, I knew something was terribly wrong. I also had a notion I knew what it was all about. She scarcely acknowledged us as she wrung her hands, paced, and dove into her disjointed dialogue. “Look here, Aida …” Breslyn tried to interrupt her. Instead, she wailed and came to me. I took her hand and squeezed and said softly, “Easy, Aida, take your time …” “Yes, but Desmond is not back yet and I think I will go mad …” “He will be back—” I started to try and soothe her, but her brother was having none of her nonsense and cut me off. “Look here, Aida. Desmond is Willow’s father, and she did not carry on like this.” “It is not the same. How dare you compare my feelings to that of a daughter’s feelings?” I glared at my prince and put an arm round Aida. Not easy. Aida was built like most Fae females, tall and along what you humans would call Amazon lines. She was very elegant, very graceful, but definitely warrior-built. I on the other hand have the Daoine quality in my DNA so to speak, and am not as tall or strongly formed. Reaching around Aida’s shoulders and stopping her from pacing took concentration and thoughtfulness. “Aida, my dearest friend, I will tell you about Queen Mab.” “What do you know of Queen Mab?” Aida was momentarily diverted from her wailing. Breslyn smiled to himself and took a step away from us. I knew he had decided to allow us to have our ‘female’ moment. “Queen Mab has always been very slow at making decisions. She has no concept of time because she has never dealt with humans. Queen Aaibhe has been so busy chasing and cleaning up after Gaiscioch that she had neglected her duty as Queen Mab’s niece.” I waited for Aida to digest this. Her brows were up. Her eyes were wide, and I continued, “You see, Aida, although the Daoine are the self-appointed ‘Keepers of Nature’, they do not watch humans as we do—they find it painful. Humans engage in violence against nature and themselves, and the Daoine turned away from them long ago. In spite of that reticence, the queen of the Daoine expects her niece, Queen Aaibhe, to keep her abreast of things in the human world. Aaibhe neglected to do that in recent months, and now Queen Mab is teaching her a lesson in her own style. She is reminding our queen who the more powerful tribe is, who is the more powerful queen …” “But, Ete … Gais is a danger to them as well as to the human world. We can’t have Unseelie beasts roaming around sucking up everything in their path. The Daoine must know that.” “Queen Mab knows that very well and is, in fact, showing our queen that by neglecting to keep her informed, she neglected to engage the might of the Daoine.” I sighed. “Not that I think even their might will help in this … but we shall see.” I looked

at Breslyn. He had been Aida’s guardian ever since they lost their parents in the great and final battle for Ireland. He had doted on her, spoiled her, and I could see as she absorbed what I told her, he was pleasantly surprised at her sudden calm. “Would she hurt Desmond to make a point?” Aida asked quietly. “I cannot conceive of any reason for her to do so.” All at once Aida looked at us and then looked back into the bedroom, where the bed was a pile of covers. Sudden dawning infiltrated her face. “Huh!” She exclaimed with a satisfied smile, “It is about time!” *** It looked like rain. I had been awake, out of the bed, and in my own shower while Shayne slept in his bedroom. I wanted to get downstairs and make coffee before Bridget arrived. I was just pulling on my jeans when the door to my bedroom burst open and there he stood in all his naked glory. “Shayne.” I giggled. “What are you doing?” “What am I doing? What are you doing?” “I am trying to get back into routine. Shower, coffee, walk … art …” “That is not the routine I have in mind.” I put out my hand as he was already on me, pulling me into his arms. “Shayne, please … I need my coffee … don’t you need yours …?” “I need you. Bridget will be here. She will make the coffee.” He grinned saucily. “If you haven’t noticed, which I think you have, I am the lord of the manor around here.” I laughed, reached up, and tweaked his nose. “So you are … but I am not part of your … er … manor!” “We shall see,” he said on a low throttle as he bent to kiss me. My knees started to melt. My body started to betray my resolve. My resolve started to lose perimeters. The phone rang. It was the house phone and surprised me. The house phone rang so rarely. Shayne’s people usually called him on his cell. He didn’t look like he intended to pay it any mind. “It could be important?” I suggested softly. He eyed me then, and I knew he thought that perhaps it might be for me. I had come to realize that he was a thoughtful gentleman beneath his rough exterior. It showed itself in so many little niceties that he had been extending to me not just in the last couple of days, but since I had arrived. I could see that he did not wish to deprive me of a call from home. It clearly flitted across his mind, and I loved him for it. He couldn’t know that I had been talking to Granny nearly every other day on that special wavelength all our own. He couldn’t know, because I still hadn’t told him I was Fae … He sighed heavily, stomped across to my nightstand, and picked up the receiver to snap, “Yes.” Everything went quiet then. I saw Shayne frown—really frown for the first time in two days. “Pringle … eh?” He sighed heavily as he gave whatever the person on the other end was suggesting some thought. And then with a show of irritation, he said, “Well that will take all morning …” He sighed heavily. “Right, then … yes, what you describe is precisely what I am looking for. Yes, I know the spot,” he said and then put down the phone. He turned to me. “I have to go to Pringle, and, Willow, believe me, there is no business on this earth that would take me away from you right now, but this … This is so

very important … I just have no choice.” A notion came to his mind ,and he lit up and beamed at me like a boy. “Come with me—we’ll spend the night at this lovely inn I know. It overlooks the ocean.” I had a moment’s weakness, but I stopped myself. This was all moving so fast. I needed some space. I needed some time to myself so that I could think. His hopeful expression was adorable, and I couldn’t help but laugh, and then like an idiot I turned him down, saying, “Sounds wonderful, but no. I have work to do.” And then I felt a low-down betrayal enter my mind. I could get my hands on the Mask fragments while he was gone. How could I do that to him? Could I do that to him? And then it slapped me that he had these fragments hidden—for what purpose? He looked at me and frowned. He had sensed my sudden retreat. “Tired of me already, lass?” I felt like I was shot out of a cannon. I was in his arms, hugging him so hard. “Never ever. Don’t think that. I just think that while you go and conduct some business—I’ll get some hiking in and then get to work on another painting. It will be good for me. It will be good for you.” “What would be good for me, is you … at my side …” He put a finger to my lips and traced them lightly with a sigh, but then he was smiling, saying lightly, “As you wish, love. You need some space to do what you like to do … but, damn when I get back, Willow …” His green eyes glinted with intent as he left the remaining words silent in the air. Later we had coffee and buns together, and then with a quick kiss he was off. Bridget came in and I had another cup of coffee with her, and wasn’t she full of roundabout questions? I tried to answer her as best as I could, and she finally smiled and wagged a finger at me. “So then, lass—you are just what he needs. I haven’t seen him this happy in over a year … wait, let me think on it a moment, aye then … I have never seen him this happy!” I laughed, took up my rain slicker, and started for the door. “Maybe I can beat the rain,” I told Bridget and didn’t get far before she shoved a big black umbrella at me. I took it, laughed, and waved myself off. Bridget called after me, “I’ll have some lovely biscuits warm and ready for you when you get back, love.” “Oh yum.” I laughed and waved again. Could I be any happier? Well, yes, when my dad was freed by the Daoine queen, but at least I knew he was safe. I had met the love of my life, and I so wanted my dad to get to know him. But wait … there was a truth still shadowed and in the dark. I was going to have to find the courage to tell Shayne what I was. I had to summon the courage to do the right thing. I was going to tell him the truth about what I had been doing in his room. I was going to ask him for the Mask fragments he had in his possession … I was sure once he knew that the queen needed them to help her maintain the prison walls against the Unseelie, he would accept to give them over. Wouldn’t he? What did I really know about Shayne? He had admitted to being a high Druid priest who had given up his duties to the Fae. He had not said why. I sighed over the problem, but I was so damn happy that I just had to let it go. It was a gray day, and some of the summer flowers were beginning to wilt with the September

cold nights, but everything was still so very lovely. I hadn’t walked far when I felt this twinge touch my nerves and make me shiver. My Fae senses had been tickled. Sometimes they shout. Shouting now! Something was wrong! I felt as though someone were watching me. I looked around and scanned the woods, the tall shrubs, and the landscape, but I didn’t see anyone. I walked on and told myself to buck up. You are just edgy because so many things are just floating around unanswered. Like Dad and when he would be returned. Like why does your beloved, for that was what I recognized Shayne Bantry as, have two Mask fragments hidden from the Fae? I kept on walking, but I had a feeling like I should go back. In fact, I was getting this high-pitched shout that said, ‘back—go back’. No, it said, ‘run’, run back. I like to follow my instincts. This was a strong instinct. I had so wanted this long walk. I did my best thinking when I was out hiking, and this land, this countryside felt like home. It felt as though I belonged. However, a special nerve in my spine tingled, and I knew … I fisted my umbrella and started to turn towards the Manor. It would prove too late. All at once I felt as though this invisible force had surrounded me and pinned my feet to the ground. I couldn’t move, let alone run. Right—time to shift outta there. Nothing! I couldn’t shift either … Roland stepped out of the woods. There was something different about him. As he approached I saw what it was. His eyes. They were bright with intense purpose. They were dark with the allegiance he had given to the Dark Magic now driving him. He was chanting in Old Romany, and then the words changed and he was speaking an old Gaelic spell. I understood what he was chanting. I knew that it was a spell to stop me from shifting. Only Seelie Fae were privy to that spell … How then? The only answer that presented itself to me was Gaiscioch. Roland Omren had thrown in his lot with Gaiscioch! He held a needle in his hand. He had me standing helplessly in place with the spell. I couldn’t take a step, let alone shift. I was frozen powerless to move. He was injecting me with something. Damn him! “Creep! Traitor!” I managed to squeak out as he roughly grabbed my arms. “Creep, am I, traitor, you say? Well, Willow Lang—perhaps. The truth is … the choice for me was easy. I like to win, and Gaiscioch looks like a winner.” He shook me. “I think ye will be changing your tune soon enough, when your fine world belongs to them and you are at his mercy.” “You are a mercenary bastard,” I spit out at him, and he gave me another shake. “Mercenary say you—survivor say I. It is just fine and dandy to be all lily white and altruistic when you have been spoon-fed all yer damn life. Gaiscioch made me a hefty down payment on ye, lass … and when they come and collect ye, the next payment will set me up for life. Mercenary … aye!” He snorted. “You won’t live to spend it, fool,” I snapped. I could feel the drug playing with my senses. “Ah, but yer wrong—Gaiscioch told me himself that he will need select humans to help him rule once he takes control. He said he will need men he can trust.” Now I snorted. “And he thinks he can trust you?” “Of course—I chose my side.”

“Roland, he will eat you up and spit you out …” He laughed and said softly, “I can take care of meself—been doing it all me life …” He lifted me then and slung me over his shoulder. I was staring at the ground, trying to figure a way out of this, when the drug began to take complete hold of me. The ground, the wobbling haze of trees all seemed to fade into darkness as I heard myself scream, “No …” *** This didn’t feel right. All my Druid senses were on the alert. Pringle? None of the leads that I had been given about the Mask fragment led to Pringle. Quite the opposite in fact—the latest piece of information about the remaining Mask fragments put at least one of them in the Highlands of Scotland. It was in fact where I had intended to travel very shortly, but now not without Willow. Something nagged at me. Why hadn’t Willow come with me? What had she really been up to the other day in my room? I knew now she wasn’t Breslyn’s lover, and I had looked into her soul and found it stunningly beautiful. However, my gut told me she was in my room to do more than have a ‘look’. Just what more, I couldn’t fathom. I told myself that it was no doubt an innocent motive. I’d become so suspicious of everything this past year … The notion that she had perhaps lied to me about her reason for being in my room swept a sharp pain all through my body and started an itch I couldn’t reach. Would she go back to my room in my absence? Was she after the Mask fragments? I couldn’t believe that and yet …? My Druid brain knew the truth of it, and that truth was a sharp stab to my heart. Willow … a thief? Impossible. It was not in her make-up. No. There had to be another reason. Had it to do with her friend Breslyn? Were they so close that she would betray me? She had not spoken one word of love. She had never said she loved me. I had not encouraged her to do so because it wouldn’t be fair … What in thunder did I care about being fair? I had to have her for as long as she would stay with me—but would she stay with me when she learned my secret? I turned onto the main road that would take me to the little ocean village when something slammed me, a glaring question that hit me too hard to ignore. Who was this antique dealer? I had never dealt with him before. I had never heard of him or his shop. That in itself was not odd, as there were dealers I was not familiar with. However, how did he know about me? How did he know I was looking for this Relic? Roland! This must be one of Roland’s connections. Perhaps Roland had contacted this dealer before I fired him? I refused to put this at Willow’s door. She wasn’t capable of such downright deception. This was Roland’s style, but why was he still trying to get me out of the way? This entire thing was coming together in my head as out of sync. It didn’t sit right. I took up my cell phone, and a few minutes later I was connected to the antique shop in question. At least there was such a shop. Perhaps I was just being foolish? “No, I don’t know of any call made to you, sir …” a young woman responded. “If you wait just a moment, I will check with the owner …” She returned to tell me that no one from her shop had made such a call and that they had not even heard of the artifact I described. I didn’t wait for more. I dropped my cell phone onto the passenger seat and swung the BMW back towards Bantry. Roland was at it again, but why?

Why did he want me out of the way? He wanted the Mask fragments. Could Willow have been working for him? They had gone out that one night. Perhaps he had made her an offer she could not refuse? Bloody hell—I didn’t believe that, couldn’t believe that. Was she capable of such duplicity? My better self told me no, hell no. She wouldn’t do that to me … I doubted she would do that to anyone. And even so, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t let the Mask fragments out of my control. I needed them as complete as I could get them. Now because of Willow, now more than ever, I needed that Mask. It was the only thing that could make things right. It was the only way I could offer myself to her. To what end was this latest trick of Roland’s? It started the other day. He had wanted to meet with Willow at his cottage. Had he seen me with her? Was that why he didn’t show? Suddenly I was sure of it. Damn if that didn’t make sense. It clicked into place. Now—think, I told myself, why did he want her alone? She was innocent in this. I knew it, felt it, and was relieved. She had been genuinely surprised when he hadn’t showed up, and just as genuinely unconcerned. She had nothing to do with Roland. I damn well didn’t know what she was doing in my room, in my closet, but it wasn’t for Roland. So then, what did he want with Willow? I felt icy fingers as they gripped my heart and squeezed. I had never before felt such abject terror. All I could think was that Willow was in some kind of danger. My Willow … and then I knew: this was about Willow. My Druid sense told me this was a fact, and my heart told me to race back to towards Bantry. The Druid in me shouted her name in my mind. She was Fios, and with that gift came others. Was I too far from her for her to hear me? I called her name, demanded the Fios in her to hear me. “Willow, hold on, I’m coming, lass …” I felt it now, and I could almost see it, Willow unconscious—Roland was there. She was sending me a picture … They weren’t at Bantry. Where was he holding her? Why was he holding her? Damn his soul to bloody hell. I was going to tear him apart! *** The injection Roland had given me only worked for a few minutes (the Fae in me fought it off and discarded its effects). However, it had bought him enough time to get me into his cottage, bind my ankles and wrists with rope, and leave me in a heap on the floor. I was just coming out of my stupor when I heard Shayne’s voice in my head. I could hear him calling my name. My Fae mind responded and woke me up completely. I kept my eyes closed, but I could feel and hear Roland approach. He gave my sneaker- covered foot a hard tap with his boot. “I know you are awake, Willow … I was told you would not stay under long.” He bent down and grabbed my shoulder to shake me. My eyes flashed open and held him with contempt. “Get off me, you big jerk!” I don’t like name-calling. It serves no purpose, but sometimes, some things can’t be helped. I took stock of my surroundings. I was in the middle of a small room. There was clutter everywhere. I assumed we were in his new leased cottage … not far from Bantry. I was able to move my limbs, but I discovered that there was a ring of power surrounding me. I knew what it was. In ancient Danu it was known as the ‘cuir de coimé’; loosely translated, it meant, the Circle of Force. Roland’s present behavior and actions explained a great deal. He must have seen me

with Shayne the other day in town and decided not to show. There was no Ruisdael … it had only been a ploy. How, why … when …? These questions battered me even as I tried to evaluate my predicament. Why had he signed on with Gaiscioch and the dark Fae? Well, I knew the why of it—money. How? Not sure. When? Surely he had not been in league with Gaiscioch the night we had dined together? Just what was going on? What did he want with me? I got one answer when he looked me over and said, “I never would have guessed. Willow Lang—Fae, but I should have known. I should have known no human woman could have eyes quite that shade of violet.” How did he know I was Fae? It didn’t matter. He knew, and there was no point in denying it. I closed my eyes again but asked, “What do you want, Roland?” “What do you think?” I opened my eyes and gave him a derisive glance. “I can’t imagine what a man could want that would make him stoop so low.” He reached into the circle and slapped me hard. I felt the sting of it on my cheek. The force of his slap had sent me rolling onto my side, but I quickly looked up at him and defiantly glared hard. “My mistake, you didn’t stoop—you were already there …” I braced myself for another blow. His hand went up almost automatically, and his face convulsed with his agitation. I was ready for him this time. Dawning had come. Recalled lessons at my father’s side infused me with sure knowledge. I wanted him to enter the cuir de coimé. While I couldn’t project my magic past the circle, I sure could play with it within the ring’s field of power. Inside the circle of force, he was mine! However, as though reading my mind, he stopped himself, and I wondered if he had been warned about this. “Bitch,” he said with a low grunt as he moved away. “Bastard,” I returned. “Want more of me, Roland …?” I was trying to antagonize him into my field where I could get a shot at him. Although a savage sound, something between a growl and a roar, escaped him, he made no further attempt to get at me. He wasn’t taking the bait. “You have no right to judge me.” He shouted, “You are Fae … the world could be yours, if you wanted …” How had I thought him even remotely attractive? Looking at his contorted features, at the dark bitterness in his eyes now, I could so clearly see how tainted, how warped his soul had become over time. However, I had to keep him engaged and busy. I had to find out whatever I could. “And who told you that I am Fae, Roland?” “The Unseelie drone whose partner you killed.” I felt my brows lift with surprise. I was certain that Breslyn and I had not been observed when I had made my first Unseelie Kill. I frowned over this. “I don’t think so.” “The blasted creature noticed you afterwards, Willow. He got a ‘feel’ off you, sensed there was something more than human about you, and reported this to Gaiscioch.” Roland shrugged. “And as to the rest, Gais has his ways of checking things out …” “And you know this because?” I scoffed, hoping he would want to prove to me that he was in the ‘know’ of things.

He scowled and said on a low, hard note, “Apparently Gaiscioch has been suspicious from the day the Mask fragment was stolen …” He stared at me and added, “I don’t know how you managed it, but that was a nice little job.” He looked me over for a moment, and then said coolly, “He has thousands of years behind him—enough to know that someone new was in the game. Gais looked around and discovered that Bantry employed a gypsy—me—and a young woman.” Roland shrugged. “He correctly assumed you were Fios. He later discovered you were a Faeling …” He had said the last to hurt me. I was surprised how little it did hurt. The experiences I’d had awakened a pride in what I was. However, no time to dwell on that right now. “So … he what, sent a drone to negotiate with you, Roland?” “Aye—he told the drone to approach me. There was no turning down what he offered me.” “And what did he offer you? What was so wondrous that you would turn your back on your own kind?” I snapped. “I can’t help my kind, as you so eloquently put it … are they not your kind as well? Wait, ah, my mistake—no, they are not.” He sneered at me. “I can’t stop what is coming, but I can help myself,” he said grimly. “That is all I am doing.” “You are doing a little more than that, aren’t you?” I stared hard at him. “You have been taught how to create the Circle of Force, and you have been taught how to use the holding Spell, to keep me from shifting. You could not have done that unless Gais gave you the way of it. So tell me why—just to get at me?” “Yes, just to get at you,” he answered with a frown. He looked me over and then turned away. “The drone should be here soon to collect you …” I ignored this last, although it sent a bolt of fear through me. Instead, I concentrated on keeping him talking. “Did you know that you won’t be able to use the Holding Spell more than once? You are human, and it won’t work for you more than once.” I so wanted to rattle him. “I know. The drone made that clear. That is why you are in the Circle of Force … which he—the drone—created. Even a gypsy doesn’t have the kind of magic to build a ring strong enough to hold a Seelie Fae.” Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief. At least Roland’s magic was limited. What I needed to do was find a way out of this situation before the Unseelie came to collect me. That wasn’t going to be easy. I closed my eyes again and answered the call that Shayne had been constantly sending me, fervently hoping he would get a read on where I was. Even at that moment, with the situation steadily moving into dire, the knowledge that Shayne had sensed something was wrong, called for me, was coming for me, filled me with a glow that I had never experienced before. How could I not have seen what a powerful Druid priest he was? But Gaiscioch and his drones might prove too much for even him. How could I keep him safe? He was as mortal as I. Roland could kill him. I had noticed the gun on Roland’s messy desk. Would Roland shoot Shayne if he came busting in? The notion made me frantic. I had to get out of this circle. I studied the specific symbols. Was there a way? Long ago, when a Fae was tried for a crime, the accused would be placed in the circle—the cuir de coimé—to keep him or her from shifting away, but in order to maintain the accused in the circle, one more thing needed to be done to unify the binding spell. I had studied the symbols closely, and

it wasn’t there. The cuir needed to be sealed with the blood of the jailer … Okay, that meant there was a way out, but I had to bide my time, and I had to keep him talking. It was easy. I could see he needed, wanted, to talk so I encouraged him with another taunt. “Why assume the Dark Fae will come out victorious?” “Because they are ruthless. They won’t take the time out as humans do to debate whether some devastating action—genocide against another race—is unthinkable. They won’t care. They will take out as many as they can, anyway they can.” Was that a tinge of guilt I saw in his eyes? If so, he quickly brushed it aside. I took a moment and then asked, “And what are you supposed to do with me, Roland?” He didn’t look at me; instead he moved away, gave me his back, and said over his shoulder, “Nothing will happen to you. Gaiscioch wants you alive.” “Why?” “He thinks you can help him gain access to Seelie Relics scattered in our world. He knows about the gift you inherited from your mother.” Roland hesitated. “You see, he remembered.” “He remembered what?” “That your father petitioned the queen and told her of your mother’s remarkable gift of being able to sense Seelie Hallows and Relics.” “What made him think I would cooperate?” “He has his ways,” Roland said, quietly turning around to look at me. “How do you know all this?” “He has discovered a way of communicating through an ancient glass left behind by the Dark King. I have a mirror left to me by my father, handed down from father to son. The drone noticed it when he was here and after that … Gais—” He stopped short. I had to think. How bad was this? Could Gais use the mirror to get his army through to the human world? “Well, how powerful can your great leader be if he can only talk through a mirror?” “You have no idea. Willow … he has an ancient portal the queen has long forgotten about. It stands hidden in Egypt. He means to transport it to Killarney and use it by Halloween.” Roland shook his head and bit at his bottom lip as he sucked it in and narrowed his eyes. “You will make a mistake if you underestimate Gaiscioch.” “I wouldn’t do that.” “You already have. You think you can escape, but he knows you have a grandmother and will hold that over your head.” I was shocked silent by an all-consuming fear. And then rage took over. “Gais wants me? Fine—bring it on! If he dares go near my grandmother, I will make it the last thing he does, so help me. I will kill him dead before he has a chance to say my grandmother’s name!” I was white-hot, seething, and all at once I knew what I was going to do, what I had to do. I inched towards the edge of the circle. The human in me could pass over and through the ring of symbols. Would that be enough to get me all the way out? The Fae in me would be reduced to scorching pain, but the human in me would not. And the circle had not been sealed with Roland’s blood—of that I was certain. The Fae young may have called me ‘faeling’, but I had learned my Fae lessons just as well as any of them. I knew what it would take, what I needed to do. I concentrated; I had to set this up so that when I got out I would be ready to shift …

While we had been talking, I had already disintegrated the rope around my wrists and ankles. I was more than pleased and thankful to be Fae and, therefore, master of illusion. I allowed Roland to see my situation unchanged. He saw my ankles and wrists still bound with rope. “You could use your innate gypsy skills to help us in this war …?” I spoke softly, kept him busy. “I don’t think so.” He shrugged and walked away from me again. “No profit in that and way too much danger.” “Besides … you are in too deep to get out.” “Something like that.” Roland looked out the window. “If you wanted out, Roland—we could help you.” “Not enough in it for me. I would still have to take second place to men like Bantry.” He shook his head with disgust. “Och no, Willow … I couldn’t do it.” “But you can do this?” “He won’t hurt you,” Roland said, for the first time showing some minor interest in my welfare. “Why don’t you think so?” “Because I told you, he needs you to help find those Relics.” I said nothing to this. He was pacing. I watched him pick up his Glock and stick it in his belt. I didn’t like that. Why had he done that? I needed a moment to think. I couldn’t think. All I could see was Shayne … mortal Shayne … coming for me here at this cottage and finding a gun pointed at him. No! I remembered what my father had taught me about Druids. He had said that their powers were so vastly connected to their speech that the Christians when they first came to conquer would cut out the tongue of a known Druid. Shayne was a high Druid priest with more powers than Roland could imagine—more abilities than Roland knew he possessed. Well, he was using one of those abilities now. He was coming for me, and his voice was strong and loving. I had to get out of here before Shayne arrived and got shot! I dove out of the circle. The pain was excruciating as I passed through the ring of arcane symbols, and I screamed as the agony shot through me. For a moment I was dazed. However, as Roland came towards me, I pulled myself together and shifted outside the cottage. Outdoors, I stood very still, and felt unsteady, I suppose from the residual pain. I tripped and went down onto the damp grass. I got back up, steadied myself, and suddenly Roland was on me, grabbing my ankle, sending me down with a hard thud. I was winded, trying to dig my nails into the ground as he dragged me by my ankles. If I shifted, he would go with me … but he was sticking something into me again, and I knew what it was … I felt the effects of the tranquilizer try to take hold, but this time, I was ready for it. I went deep into the Fae part of my brain and fought it. I pretended to go limp, and as he turned me over and started to drag me by one leg, I brought up my other foot and managed to hit him hard in the groin! Roland let off a howl of pain, bent over himself, and screeched, “Fuck!” I scrambled away. “Roland … you don’t know what you are up against …” I tried reason.

“Damnable thing …” he groaned, “but I do. He released one last groan and breathed hard to say, “Well, then, I knew you were talented—just didn’t know how very much. All the while there you had all these powers … pretending to be human.” His words came between short breaths. His eyes raked over me. And then he was standing fully upright and coming for me. “Are you immortal as well?” I guess he saw the answer in my eyes, and he responded with a nasty smile, “I didn’t think so. Now, I have a lot of money riding on this … so …” He dove at me and brought us both down. He had hold of my wrist and pulled me up with him. He had latched onto me stopping, me from shifting, and he held the Glock’s muzzle pushed hard into my waist. My bad. Shifting was second nature to me, not first. My first thought had been to run. Good lessons come hard—should have shifted. “No more shifting, Willow. Walk now … nice and easy, and we’ll just go back into the cottage and wait for Gais’s drone to arrive and take you off my hands.” *** “Desmond!” Aida squealed and ran right into his arms, which I noted, to myself, he held wide open for her. I watched them together for a long moment and then looked at Breslyn. I could see he was flabbergasted. Desmond was Willow’s father, and I knew this was the cause of his darkling expression. I tweaked his nose. “He will be good for her, my Prince.” “Better than most of her choices, I suppose,” he agreed, but he scowled. “Stop frowning,” I said softly. He sighed and squeezed my hand. “Ete—you change everything for me. You make me smile. Fini.” An astral glow filled the chamber. With a shimmering light that was nearly blinding, Queen Aaibhe stepped out of the gold dust and surveyed us. Now this really felt off. After all, we were in Breslyn’s bedroom suite of his Palace. This was Dagda, not the queen’s Castle, and this was the prince’s private chamber, and it was quickly filling up. Breslyn whispered to me, “I can’t remember anything like this ever happening before.” I smiled and noted to myself that everyone in fact, had become speechless at the queen’s arrival. Queen Aaibhe’s smile was a soft curve of her lips. “What have you to report?” “What have we to report?” Breslyn managed to say without spitting. “Here you are, Aaibhe, with Desmond safe and sound, and you want our news? What of yours?” The queen’s movements were incredibly graceful. She seemed to glide. She came forward and took up my fingers and then my prince’s hand. “Ah … this is what I wanted.” Then she dropped our hands and said, “Tell me, is our little Fae Willow safe?” “What do you mean?” Breslyn asked, suddenly worried. He cared for Willow. I knew he found her worthy and dear. I knew he couldn’t bear that she might come to harm on his watch. “Queen Mab had a vision—of Willow. It is why I have returned so swiftly.” Desmond stepped forward. “My daughter? What kind of a vision?” “Calm yourself, Fae.” The queen addressed him curtly. He was not in her first circle, and she would not be spoken to thusly by him. He bowed his head. “Forgive me, my Queen … but, my daughter?”

“Indeed. Your daughter has already served her queen, and we shall not allow her to be harmed.” She turned to Breslyn. “Prince … what news have you of the Druid and the Fios?” “Damn—by Danu, I know nothing. How could Willow be in any immediate danger? The wards surrounding Bantry Manor protect her from Unseelie.” Breslyn shook his head. “Willow knows how to call for the death weapon I assigned to her. She has not done so. I would have known if she called for it, and she would have called for it if Unseelie had attacked her, and it would have alerted me.” Both Breslyn and I looked at one another. There were too many ‘ifs’ in that equation. I patted my prince’s hand. He was greatly disturbed, and he said on a low note, “Ete, I should have been watching over her …” “We both should have—but we will make it right,” I told him. *** I was in trouble for the moment. I fought and resisted as best I could with the gun jammed into my side. I couldn’t get away by shifting as long as he held onto me. He would shift with me, and the gun could go off. As long as he touched me, he would go where I went and the gun would still be sticking me in the side. Therefore, I was a hostage until I found a way to free myself. This was not good. In other words, I was in deep shit. And then I heard a car slam on its brakes … Shayne was crashing through the woods that ran along the short driveway to the cottage. We could see him clearly. Roland put the gun to my head and shouted, “Bantry—are you tired of her yet? Is that it? Want her dead?” I couldn’t believe Roland was willing to go this far for money, but it wasn’t just the money, was it? It was the power. He wanted power. Shayne stopped dead in his tracks. I could see the rage on his face. I could see him thinking. Roland’s voice was harsh. “That’s right. Be a good boy …” He started to pull me along. I pulled back. “You won’t shoot me. Gais wants me alive, right?” He pointed the gun at Shayne. “Right, so then, perhaps you are tired of him?” Standoff of the worst kind—and then it came to me. I had to be quick, and while he pointed the gun towards Shayne, I shifted us, only not to solid ground. I shifted us into the Middle Lake, and let me tell you, it was freaking freezing! We were sinking fast, and although he grabbed for me with his free hand, I had broken loose from him. I shot out of the water like a bullet and remembered that I didn’t have to swim. I shifted onto dry land and bent over to hold my knees and myself together as I gasped for some air. I looked up and I saw Roland swimming like a son of a gun towards the shore. He didn’t get far. All at once I heard this unmistakable sound. Out of the sky came this loud swooshing of air reverberating all around me, and then there was Deimne, the Daoine Sluagh! Fury resonated in the gold aura around him. Disbelief was written all over his face. “Gypsy!” he said in a thunderous voice that sounded like it came from the heavens. Indeed, he looked, with those glorious wings spread wide, like an avenging angel. Roland had reached the shore and stood dripping wet. He was in no little shock as he stared up at the winged Daoine Fae. However, he (unbelievably) still had his Glock, and

he pointed it in my direction. Roland didn’t know what he was dealing with. Deimne laughed, but it held no pleasure. The Daoine Sluagh’s response was wordless. The gun was gone. Just like that, gone. Roland stepped backwards—unsure what he could do next, and he knew that he was helpless beyond measure. Lesson here—you don’t mess with a Daoine Fae! Deimne had sent the gun elsewhere; he then simply pointed a finger and roared, “Gypsy, you dare to annoy Shee Willow? She is under the protection of Queen Mab and Queen Aaibhe, and only the Treaty protects your life at this moment.” The winged Daoine paused and then added, “And, Gypsy … although we probably would not kill you, there are other things that we may do to you … things you would not like.” Me, you ask. What was I doing? I was wet and freezing. It was only September I know, but it was cool and the water was cooler. However, even though my teeth were chattering and I was turning blue, I grinned and watched the show. And then I remembered—Fae magic. I blinked, and the next moment I was dry! Also, had I heard correctly? Were two Fae queens interested in my welfare? I couldn’t believe it? When had I gone from faeling to a Fae of interest? I was stuck on this thought for an undeterminable time. In that moment I couldn’t believe that I had judged all Fae by Valtye. Deimne said not another word then but flew over Roland, reached down and, grabbing him by his soaking wet shirt, put a gold harness on him and allowed him to dangle in mid-air. This done, he said to Roland, who I was surprised was very still and very quiet, “You will be taught a lesson. You must know when we are done that it does not do to work against the express wishes of the Seelie Fae.” Roland finally found his voice. “I … I … wasn’t going to hurt her …” I wasn’t surprised that Roland was trying to weasel out of his situation. I don’t think I even blamed him. Scary stuff, hanging from a winged Fae’s gold harness. “Quiet, fool,” Deimne said as he flew back towards me. “Shee Willow, are you hurt?” I touched my head. “No … hey thanks, Deimne. You came by just in time.” I raised my hand towards him, and he flew over to take it. He held Roland by his harness as he touched ground and bent to kiss my fingers and whisper, “Remember, one day you will do me the honor and take flight with me, but in the meantime, you will come with me now.” “I would like that, Deimne, one day. I shall always consider you a wonderful and majestic friend.” The Sluagh liked that, and a soft smile touched those glistening iridescent eyes. He didn’t wait for more as he took me up in his strong arms and held me against his wellformed body. “Where are we going, and how did you know where I was, and—” “My queen had asked me to keep a watchful eye out for you. Whenever I can I watch when you go walking, or shifting—I go flying, and I tracked you with interest into the lake!” We both laughed out loud, and I reiterated my question. I trusted the Daoine Sluagh— after all he had just rushed in and saved my life—but I needed to know why I was in the air and where we were headed. I needed to get back to Shayne, and I knew I was going to have some explaining to do.

Dangling below us and screaming his head off was Roland Omren, who was probably (although I don’t think he had ever done so before) praying for his life. “You know … I can shift home … but thanks, if that is where you are taking me?” “No—I have my reasons for returning you personally to Druid Priest Bantry.” “Yes … but …” I said, looking down and then closing my eyes. “Get used to it, Shee Willow.” He barked out a genuinely happy laugh. The next thing I knew with a whoosh whoosh we were soaring. His merry laughter was musical and beautiful, and it filled the air until we reached the Roland’s cottage driveway, where Shayne combed the woods and called my name. We landed, and he dragged Roland with him by the lead that held him to his harness. Shayne ran towards me, and then abruptly stopped as he saw Deimne. “The Druid priest,” Deimne said softly. And then with a great flap of his magnificent wings he was hovering over Shayne, with Roland dangling once again. He hovered there, regarded Shayne with interest, and then turned to me. “What is it that our Fae females find of such great interest in this priest?” I wondered for a moment what he meant. What Fae females other than myself? Had there been another that had been Shayne’s lover? That pinched, and I decided not to think about it for the moment. We had other problems here and now. Now I just wanted to get into Shayne’s arms, which were extended towards me. I ran to Shayne, saying his name as he hugged me to him. He whispered soothing words. He told me I was the greatest treasure on earth, and then he demanded suddenly, “Did Roland hurt you?” All this while he watched the Daoine Sluagh out of the corner of his eye. “No … not really …” “A Fae with wings—I didn’t know such a thing existed,” Shayne murmured. “I am Daoine,” the Sluagh said proudly, regally while he shook Roland’s harness and demanded Roland stop his squealing like a pig. Roland was reduced to whimpering. Deimne’s wing span was now fully extended. Rays of light beamed all around him, as he wanted Shayne to view him in all his glory. “So, Druid—have you decided to resume the rituals as is your duty?” “No,” Shayne answered angrily. The Sluagh looked disapprovingly and told Roland to be quiet again as Roland was just about blustering now. He returned his attention to Shayne and coldly inquired, “And why is that?” “Because I want Queen Aaibhe’s attention. I want and need her to attend me,” Shayne said emphatically, not the least bit conscientious about his present precarious situation. The Sluagh looked nonplused. “You … want … the queen … to attend … you?” “Yes!” Shayne shouted, “Give her that message.” “I am the Sluagh, not a messenger for a Druid.” Deimne was insulted. “Deimne—perhaps … if there is a problem that needs sorting out … perhaps the queen should know? You are quite an efficient hero of the Daoine Realm, aren’t you? Saving me, and finding out what the high Druid priest’s problem has been—all in one day.” Deimne looked to me, one brow up, and said softly, “You are a diplomatic little Fae, are you not? I forgive you that, for you are quite right, I have done quite a nice job this day.” He turned back to Shayne. “You want a message taken to the queen? Allow Shee

Willow to do that for you. As for me, I have business with this creature.” He shook Roland as he took to the air. In spite of everything, I didn’t want Roland tortured. Not all of us had the right stuff to come out whole when we reached maturity. Obviously, he was turning dark, but perhaps some mercy might help him change? “Oh Deimne … don’t hurt him,” I called out after him. The Sluagh looked at me and sighed. “I shall hurt him only a little …” “Just drop him off somewhere he may have a hard time making his way out of. That will be lesson enough.” “As you wish, Shee Willow.” A moment later he was gone. I turned to look up at Shayne, who had taken a step away from me. And then I realized. Deimne had said, ‘send Shee Willow’. That was not how I wanted Shayne to find out my secret. I wanted to be the one to tell him and in my own way. I could see not just shock on his face, but something akin to horror. “He called you Shee Willow. You conversed as though you were friends? He called you a Fae. What could he possibly mean?” Shayne asked accusingly. “I thought you would have guessed when I shifted off with Roland?” I answered his question with one of my own. I had hoped he had guessed something close to the truth when he saw me vanish with Roland. Upon my return he had held his arms out for me. Now, he was stepping back and away. “I thought Roland used some gypsy magic on you …” Shayne breathed on a hard note. Uh-oh, here it comes. Well, if this was going to be real between us, it was time for the whole truth and nothing but the truth moment (an old adage that I was not certain was going to work for me in this situation). I sucked in air and started. “Well, here it is then, the second part of that secret I told you, the worst part—though I no longer see it that way—is that, well, he called me Shee Willow, because that is what I am. I am the daughter of a human woman, a Fios—a Seer—and of a Tuatha Dé. My father is Fae.” I put up my hand to stop him from interrupting me. “My childhood, in Tir … was difficult. I couldn’t make friends when we lived in Tir … the Fae young called me a Faeling. I later had a bad encounter as a teen on Tir and decided the only place I could survive was the human world. So … so I hid my Faeness and slipped in with humans in the human world.” There it was out. Shayne didn’t say a word. His eyes seemed to speak volumes though, and I couldn’t see any warmth, or any understanding, only shock. Now it was my turn. I stepped away from him. The distance between us felt enormous. I felt this cold tension as it gripped my heart. It was happening again. I didn’t think it could, but here it was. Rejection! Bold-faced, cruel, and totally unexpected. After what we had shared, after what I thought he felt for me, I did not think he could look so … horrified. I thought … but it didn’t matter what I thought. His rejection, his distaste was clear. The tears welled up and spilled over, and I turned on my heels and I ran. I was choking on this last rebuff. It was worse than anything I had ever experienced before. I felt blind with hurt. I was angry at the world. I didn’t get far before I realized I didn’t have to run. I pulled myself together. I was Fae and proud of it. I shifted to Bantry and to the Solarium. I suppose I went there without thinking. I looked round at all the paintings neatly laid

out. They were a blur before my wet eyes. All I could see was the look on Shayne’s face and the stance of his body. I ran from there (so much more satisfying than shifting) and sped up the stairs with only one thought. I was leaving. I couldn’t stay at Bantry another moment. Besides, I had to get to my grandmother before Gaiscioch did. And then I realized. I was Fae. I didn’t have to pack. I didn’t have to call for a cab. I don’t have to take a plane. All I had to do was point my finger at my things and shift home to my granny! And that was precisely what I was going to do. A moment later, my bags were in the kitchen of my old house and I was diving into my granny’s waiting arms. She had felt my anguish and was waiting and ready for me. “Oh, Granny … I have lost him …” “If you are talking about Shayne Bantry, I somehow can’t believe that, child.” She soothed me as she led me to the living room sofa. “Come then, why don’t you sit and explain what it is that has happened?”

~ Twenty-five ~ DAMN BUT I WAS in shock. A winged Fae—a Daoine whom I had heard about but had never seen, and then Willow—not only a Seer, but half Fae as well? That above all other considerations of the moment hit me like a hard fist slamming into my nose. It sent me off kilter. It brought me to the ground and left me speechless as I tried to gather my intellect and comprehend. My beloved—a Fae? Willow Lang had stolen my heart, taken over my body and what was left of my soul. I thought myself unworthy. I worried that I had nothing but the present to offer her. I was trapped and bound by what a Fae female had done to me last year. Now the news that Willow, my own Willow was Fae? My shock, my anger, my bitterness swelled up and constricted my throat. I couldn’t say a word. She was one of them. That filled me with momentary suspicion. Was this Aaibhe’s way of getting me to fulfill my ritual duties without bothering with me herself? Had this been planned? Had they sent me Willow to seduce me into submission? Had Willow been a part of it? And then I vividly recalled the look on her face after she fessed up to the secret that had obviously been one she had worried long and hard about. She wasn’t a part of any scheme of the queen’s to lure me back into the fold. She hadn’t tried to trick me, and my reaction to her confession … had left her stung. Hurt! I had hurt her. If they had somehow tried to use her to get to me, she had not known. I ran after her. It made me smile to think her instinct had been to run, not to shift. I had hurt my beloved, my woman, but I meant to make it right. I ran to my car, jumped in, and sped like a lunatic back to Bantry. I screeched to a halt, left my car door open as I took the front steps, running past Bridget, who was standing at the stairs. Stairs—I took them two by two, and when I got to her door, I didn’t care if I found it locked. I would break it down if I had to. However, it was not locked. It was wide open as was her closet door and dresser drawers. Empty. Willow was gone, and this time, she had shifted out. All at once the entire room filled with the scent of vanilla, pine, herbs, and flowers. It was sensational, and I knew it was Faery. I spun round expecting a Fae, and got five of them! The queen of the Unseelie Fae seemed to float between the others. I knew her. I had conversed briefly with her when my parents had died, and she had passed the torch onto me as the next high Druid priest of Bantry. Beside her was Breslyn. Willow had introduced me to him as a friend. His gold torque on his neck signified his royal status; why hadn’t I realized earlier? He also wore gold armbands, and they were all he wore above the waist. He was dressed in brown leather pants. His dark blonde hair was slicked back and tied with leather at the nape of his neck,

and he looked composed but ready for battle. Beside him was a petite and absolutely lovely Fae. Behind them was a tall, leaner-built male Fae whose white-gold hair was just like his daughter’s magnificent hair. No one could see him and not realize that Willow was his daughter. Halfway hiding behind him was someone I knew very well. Aida of course—the source of all my trouble. Willow’s father stepped forward. “What has happened here? Where is my Willow?” “I don’t know,” I answered. “What have you done?” Breslyn stood in my face. His silver eyes were bright with anger. “She wouldn’t leave like this for no reason …” The beautiful little Fae at his side reached over and restrained him with her delicate hand as she looked at me. “Bres, the Druid looks miserable. No doubt it was some kind of lover’s quarrel. Give him a moment to explain.” She smiled softly at me. “I am Ete … cousin to the queen whom you know and have sought desperately to displease.” She nodded towards Willow’s father. “He is Desmond, who you might have already guessed is Willow’s father … and I rather think you know Aida … very well.” “Know Aida? Aye then, I know Aida. She visited me while I was performing Beltaine last year, and we became er … close for a time. However, when it was time to part, she thought she would leave me a gift. She didn’t ask if I wanted such a gift. She simply put it in my wine when my back was turned. She whispered to me that perhaps as time went by I might wish to see her again and the potion she had delivered to me would enable me to do so.” I felt my eyes narrow as I watched Aida stroking Desmond’s arm as she whispered reassurances to him. I assumed Willow’s father was her new love interest. I looked to the queen, who was actually almost impossible to view. She lit up her space with a beauty that was more than captivating. It was bewitching. She raised one of her exquisite brows and pointed at me. “Speak, Priest.” “I neglected my ritual duties to get you here to undo the gift your Fae Princess Aida wrongfully bestowed on me.” I saw Breslyn’s shocked countenance as he searched his sister’s face. I noticed that all eyes actually were on Aida, and I felt a moment’s pity for the girl in her. The queen’s sudden irritation affected the air in the room. Everything went cold as she directed a raking gaze over Aida. “What gift did she bestow on thee, Druid?” Her lovely voice although not loud dominated everyone in the room. “Immortality,” I said as I raked my hand through my black hair, wondering if it had turned gray in the last few moments. Breslyn hit his head with his hand and cursed under his breath and then said right out loud, “By all that is Danu—how could you be so stooopid, my sister?” Desmond appeared surprised, and Aida’s attention was all for him. Only Ete did not seem surprised. I supposed that they were friends and confidants. Willow’s father, I decided, was quite a decent sort. In spite of his shock, he put a protective arm around her and patted her shoulder. “There, there sweet Aida … no doubt you simply did not think it out. You did not realize the far-reaching consequences of your act. I am sure you are sorry.” “Aida, we shall speak about this later, you and I,” said the queen. Even after the torturous year I had spent trying to get rid of immortality so that I could have a normal life, I felt a very real twinge of pity for Aida, who was now hanging her

head. She was at bottom no different than any human youth spreading her wings and making mistakes. The queen returned her attention to me. “Now … where is Shee Willow?” I told them then everything I knew and everything that had transpired, about coming up on the Sluagh who had Roland, and finding out that Willow was a Fae. My narrative was slowed down by the questions that were flung at me, but I pursued, and I told them how she had run from me when shock had taken over my brain. I told them I behaved like a dumb lout without a shred of understanding. “Understanding?” snapped Willow’s father. “What have you to understand? She is better than human. She is Fae, and she has heart enough to survive living in two worlds, thinking neither one belonged to her—understanding, indeed!” “Enough!” said the queen. “Take the Druid.” I didn’t have the chance to ask where I was being taken. I didn’t care. In truth, all I wanted at that moment was to find Willow. I would escape them at my first opportunity and do just that. The next thing I knew, Desmond had my arm and we were shifting through the cosmos, parting the atmosphere, and separating space and time. I blinked and found we were all standing in a cozy living room looking at an irate, gray-haired grandmother wagging a finger at us as she pushed her granddaughter partially behind her. *** All at once the room filled with light—astral aura at its brightest, softest, and warmest. Granny and I blinked as gold dust and gold rays engulfed the room. I saw granny jump up and start wagging a finger. She shoved me behind her and was ready to do battle. And then I saw my dad. He walked towards me, and I just bolted at him. He held me and stroked my hair as he said my name. I held on for dear life. “Dad … you’re okay. Oh I missed you so much.” That said, I burst into tears. He cooed and stroked my tears away before he whispered, “My own dear bright Willow. I can’t begin to tell you how much I have missed my girl, my own dear one.” He took my hand. “But, now we have a special guest …” I looked round and froze in place. There was Shayne, but I knew he didn’t mean Shayne. He was speaking of Queen Aaibhe, who floated our way. My eyes flew open wide as I immediately bowed my head respectfully to her and lowered into a curtsey. I glanced at Breslyn standing beside her, and he smiled at me. Okay. Bres was smiling. That was a good sign. Next to Breslyn was this stunningly beautiful little auburn-haired Fae. She was only a bit taller than I (which wasn’t saying much); she was quite small compared to the average Fae, even female Fae. I also noticed another young Fae female. She was Amazon-built, and she was moving towards my dad. She was taking his other hand. What the hell? “Shee Willow.” The queen spoke softly, and the room went quiet. Even granny stopped her mumbling. She does not trust Fae, but they had never before confronted her in such numbers and in such a manner. She stood taking stock of the situation. Although she did not adore my dad, she knew no harm would come to us while he was there. “Yes, my Queen,” I answered at once. “Your father tells me you have not yet taken the elixir of immortality?” “True, my Queen.” “I am certain you have your reasons. However, I am going to ask you to take it now.”

“But … my Queen …” She held up one delicate finger. “My High Druid Priest Bantry tells me he was given the elixir without his knowledge. He has requested me to extinguish the immortality that he was …” She glanced darkly towards the beautiful Fae holding my father’s hand. “ … without my knowledge, gifted. I suspect he wishes to terminate his gift because he believes a human must live a human life. However, it is a decision I am going to ask him to withhold for now. We have a Realm-shattering battle ahead of us, and now that my priest is immortal, I would like him to proceed in our uncertain future with that advantage.” She waited for the hushed murmur in the room to subside and then gently continued, “Shee Willow, you have proven yourself worthy of the elixir. Take it. If you both wish to be mortal in the far-off future … we will talk again. Do this now for your queen.” All of a sudden Shayne stepped towards me. “A moment, please—my Queen … allow me a moment alone with Willow.” She studied him and then looked at me. My cheeks were burning. I wasn’t able to look at anyone save the queen. She nodded, and Shayne took my hand. I pulled away from his touch. He took my hand forcefully and pulled me out to the long hall. We could still see everyone, and unfortunately they could see us. However, I wouldn’t go any further with him alone. He tried to touch my face (I slapped his hand away), and he sighed, then whispered, “Willow, you must listen to me. You must hear me. Lass, lass—how do I say it to you without scaring you off? Perhaps …? Och … it may be that you are not ready to hear it, but … I love you. It doesn’t matter to me that you are Fae …” He shook his head. “You could tell me you are a bloody banshee for all I care. I love you. I want you. I will never want another. It is you. From the moment I first looked into those stunning warm eyes of yours, I was smitten.” He waved away the objection I was about to make. “You say that I was shocked silent when I first discovered you were Fae? Well … make no mistake, damn straight I was. I was suspicious … och yes. Here I was trying to get the queen’s attention—aye …”Again he put his finger to my lips. “ … because I had been tricked by Aida.” He motioned towards the magnificent Fae holding my father’s hand. She lowered her gaze only to peek up at us almost immediately. “Aye then—Aida had tricked me when I told her we should not … er … see each other anymore. She slipped me the elixir of immortality, which I did not want and have been desperately trying to cleanse myself of …” A wave of green swept through me as I thought of him holding, kissing, making love to the lovely Fae now clinging to my dad. Eweee! It took over my mind and distracted me into saying, “You … you and her …?” This seemed to encourage him to take a liberty. He took me into his arms. “It was long before you—a year before you.” He took up my face and dropped a kiss on my nose. “Willow … can ye not see what I feel? Do ye not feel it as well?” I stubbornly turned my face sideways. He brought it back into focus, his focus, and continued, “I didn’t want to live forever and watch the woman of my choice wither and die. That was all immortality offered me then. But now, now … all I want is you, Willow, you … forever. Och lass, can ye not forgive me?” I got on my tiptoes and softly told him just before I kissed his sensuous mouth, “Nothing to forgive.”

He kissed me long and hard before we remembered our audience in the background. And then he held me and whispered into my hair, “Take the elixir, Willow. Be safe and … be with me forever.” “Forever is a very long time …” I looked into his dark green eyes and caught my breath at what I saw. “Aye then, so it is, but not for me if you are mine.” I guess I was an easy mark for Shayne Bantry. I sank into his arms once more and allowed him to cover my face with kisses. We heard the queen call us to order, and he led me back into the living room. My dad had the elixir and came up to me to murmur, “I lost your mother before she could take this—don’t let me lose you as well.” I reached for the elixir and swallowed it down like a shot. Yuck! It was awful. You would think a drink of immortality would taste like something sweet … like strawberries. No, it did not. There was a round of applause, and my dad went to sit with Granny. He had his arm around her because she was crying. He whispered that everything would be all right, and I was surprised to see her pat his arm and take his hand. Shayne went over to her then and introduced himself. She sniffed and said, “Well … at least she found the very broth of a man. I like the look of you … yes, I think you’ll do.” I laughed and turned to see Ete stroking Breslyn’s arm. He met my gaze, and I winked at him. Ete smiled at me and came over to take my hand. “Shee Willow … I think we are going to be great friends.” I told her that I had no doubt of it, and then the queen called us to attention. “Fine. I am well pleased that this has been settled. You … all of you, will play an important role in the future of the Realms. You will soon find a way of working together as a team … but … now that this is settled … it is time I returned.” “Wait, my Queen … Gaiscioch wants to get at me, and while I can protect myself, I am worried about my grandmother. He will try and take her to get to me …” “He will not. I have already assigned trackers to guard your grandmother for the duration of this war. I would prefer she join me in Faery, protected on your dad’s estate. However, if she chooses to stay where she has her friends and familiar surroundings, she will come to no harm.” “Faery—me … in Faery?” Granny was too shocked to do more than splutter after that. My dad soothed her and told her not to worry about it. The queen smiled softly and started to turn away. I put up my hand like I was in school. “Yes, but, Queen … what do we do now?” “A war of great magnitude threatens us in the coming months. October is beating at the door. The black energy of Halloween will arrive with its entire Dark Magic ready to burst, and I feel another break in the fabric of the Unseelie Prison Wall has already taken place. We must do whatever is necessary, child … and we must do it soon.” I turned to Shayne. “The queen needs your mask fragments … I have one …” His eyebrows went up, and he looked to the queen. “They are at Bantry, and they are yours, my Queen.” A soft smile of approval, and with a spark of gold dust she was gone. I looked up at Shayne. “I like details. What exactly are we going to do and when and

how?” “Our future, my beloved, is side by side.” He was grinning. “We are going back to Ireland and help find the crack in the Unseelie wall, and then send the devils back to the dark hole they damn well belong in!” Breslyn and my dad gave a low hoot of agreement. There was the spirit of the fight in the room, and something else. There was romance all around us. We all felt it. Even Granny was smiling at us and said on a low note to me that she rather liked the prince and little Princess Ete who had been behaving very kindly towards her. And even so, we knew what was looming ahead … Halloween. It would be the Eve of Samhain when the walls would be at their very thinnest and the beasts of the Dark Realm would seek to enter the human world in numbers that would be devastating. The fear beneath, behind, and all around the romance was how the hell were we going to stop them? Their numbers were greater than the Seelie numbers. Only Seelie Magic was on our side. Humans could not see the Unseelie to defeat them; they would need the Seelie Fae to help. We were going to have to depend on each other at every turn. We needed a plan. For the second time I put up my hand and looked towards Breslyn. “I think I have an idea …” What they didn’t know then was that in the very moment of my overwhelming joy to have all my loved ones near, I had experienced a terrifying vision. It had come through an ugly wave of nausea, and what I had seen was a future that was gray and bleak. I saw an army of Dark Fae marching on Irish and Scottish soil. I saw my Queen Aaibhe in terrible danger—I saw fog and mist engulf our world … Even our immortality would not protect us against the future. I saw three other women (young women and Druid priests with various degrees of power and magic)—joining forces with us … And there was an ‘us’! Now, some of us stood together in this room, and we would be standing together in the future. What I didn’t see was how many of us would be in the worst kind of mortal danger … I felt a new dark world pushing, screaming with teeth bared, and I felt its terrible Black Magic pulsating at our door … ~~~

Enjoy a preview of the next book in the Legend series: Trapped—Legend

~ Prologue ~ LONG, GOLD HAIR framed her otherworldly beauty. Substantial height, a provocative form, and elegant style dominated her movements. However, one should not mistake her stunning appearance as her greatest asset. She was Queen Aaibhe of the Seelie Fae and her power was formidable. The Queen of the Tuatha Dé (otherwise known as the Fae/Faery) had untapped might. Her magic was enormous and her wisdom unfathomable. Those attributes were her inherent right. The Fae were matriarchal, and Aaibhe ruled her Realm with quiet wisdom. She inspired absolute reverence from her Seelie Fae. Her iridescent eyes were too bright, too full of knowledge for a human to look directly into. At that moment they were narrowed into slits in her extraordinary face. Her nose twitched slightly, and a sneer flitted across her lovely features. The sneer had been the result of her thoughts, and those thoughts were centered on Gaiscioch, the Fae traitor. He had turned on them all, and he had now accumulated enough power to accomplish his hateful obsessions—if she didn’t act swiftly and wisely. The queen of the Seelie Fae had been dealing with the very real possibility that Gaiscioch might be able to bring about the destruction of the Fae and human realms. Gais wanted to remodel those realms. Aaibhe had lived more than seventy thousand years. She had survived the destruction of her world, Danu, and had seen what the ravages of emotions could do to Fae and humans alike. She could not allow the ice-cold anger she felt strangle her clear thoughts because … Time was running out, and Aaibhe understood this all too well. Time, a thing an immortal Fae never contemplated in the past, had quickly become all-important. Time was closing in—it crept with terrible tentacles and threatened to choke all living things until there was nothing but decay left in its horrendous path. The festivals loomed dark and terrifying in the near future. It would be during those upcoming two festivals that the magic fabric of the Walls that held the monsters back would be ripped at the seams—unless they contained the growing power Gaiscioch had acquired. Gaiscioch had gathered and trained his malevolent Unseelie forces with patience and precision. He was of course quite mad, but nevertheless he was still a brilliant militant. Although he had been an accomplished Seelie Fae warrior for thousands of years, he had turned on his own, to an end that loomed deadly. What Gais wanted was what he had always wanted—to bring the human race to its knees. He had told Aaibhe and her Council how wrong they had been to sign the Treaty with man on that fateful night. He had told them all Man was meant to worship them— she remembered now the bitterness that had lined all his words.

Aaibhe paced for a moment as she recalled one of so many conversations with her once (she had believed) dear friend, Gaiscioch. He had argued, and not unreasonably, that their race’s god-like status amongst the humans was supreme. He argued that the Seelie Fae’s unimaginable powers demanded they govern the puny, helpless humans. He had claimed Ireland, so like their Danu, belonged to them. His argument had been sound, but she had convinced the Council of what she knew was a fact: humans would always war to be free … and they, the Fae, were sick of war. She sighed and chastised herself for being blind to what had happened to him over the centuries. She knew of course that he had loved her once … Yes, he had loved her until he realized she had willingly, devotedly, completely given her love to a human, a high Druid priest … a human instead of him! Now she knew it was Gais who had murdered her beloved, and now, he meant to destroy the human and Seelie Realms if he could. And that had begun to look more and more possible each day he remained in the Dark Realm to scheme with Dark Queen Morrigu. She wondered how he could tolerate the Dark Realm—for it was a barren world of mist and fog, and Seelie Fae were creatures of light. He was imprisoned within the walls there, but he had managed with his Seelie magic to escape for short periods on many occasions—too many occasions. Gaiscioch’s intended actions were a threat to all life, as they—Seelie Fae and humans alike—presently knew it. If he managed to free the Unseelies … The notion made the Queen shudder unconsciously. The Unseelies were the Dark King’s mistakes during his experiments in Fae DNA— close to human cloning experiments. The result was a world of dark, bitter, and murderous creatures. They wanted what Gais promised: the freedom to feed on humans. With all her might—with all the magic and power at her disposal, Aaibhe did not believe she could capture and execute Gaiscioch without help. In the end, she believed it would be a small band of humans—her Druid priests—and half humans that would bring him low and end the terrible onslaught that had already begun. Queen Aaibhe closed her eyes and spoke softly in ancient Danu to the bright orb she had called to her private chambers. She held it in her delicate hands and looked deep. What the orb showed her made her feel certain, helpless dread, a feeling she had not had in more than a thousand years. The orb gave her a clear picture of the Unseelie abominations Gais had freed to roam the Human Realm. They were called Fae because of part of their DNA, but their monstrous minds and bodies were born to maim and destroy. The Dark Fae used Glamour to disguise themselves in the human world, and they were feeding unchecked in three of her favorite cities, Edinburgh, Inverness and Dublin. Gaiscioch had successfully freed more of the devils than she had thought possible. Every time she repaired a rift in the fabric of the Prison Wall, he managed to develop another portal. What she needed now was to see where he meant to strike next. Aaibhe cooed to the orb, encouraging it to show her with the power it had what the very near future held, but the orb made a whimpering sound. It could no longer see and display the days to come in its magical depths. Something was interfering … Queen Aaibhe’s eyelids closed. Her Prince of Dagda, Breslyn, already had enough on his plate. His love of humans, so at variance with most Fae, enabled him to understand and deal with them well, but the

latest assignment she had given him had him fully occupied. It was time she called on her Prince of Lugh, Danté … although his understanding of humans was, at best, limited. However, he would take his mission as absolute, and for this mission Danté was the prince she needed. And it was time for another special human to join their team. Some women in the human world could see past the magic and human Glamour both the Seelie and Unseelie Fae were capable of creating—illusion if you will. These women could see past the Fae power of Féth Fiada (invisibility), and more than that, a select few had latent, hidden powers that needed to be developed. These women were known amongst the Fae as Shee Fios—meaning Fae Seers. In ancient times, before the Treaty, Fae warrior hunters had tracked them, gathered them, and blinded the Shee Fios, thus rendering them useless to detect the Fae and warn their villages. Many Fios were slaughtered at the hands of the trackers. Those times were vicious … and thankfully many Shee Fios escaped and learned to hide amongst their fellow humans. Shee Fios learned how to disguise their talents. They learned how to keep their secrets. If you are not a Fios—and there are very few—you might notice a group of tall, exceptionally stunning women and men in a theater or a restaurant. You might think them celebrities. They are probably Fae. You would never know—how could you? But a Shee Fios would know. She would see through their magic. She would see past the Glamour that hid the innate alien just beneath the surface. She would see the iridescent eyes. She would recognize the immortals—see them as bewitchingly beautiful, but immortals all the same and different than we. A Shee Fios would always know. Queen Aaibhe looked to one in particular, one with powers the young Fios was yet to discover. Her name, BJ Mulroy, and this, this is her story. “Life as it flows is so much time wasted, and nothing can ever be recovered or truly possessed save under the form of eternity, which is also the form of art.” —Santayana

~ One ~ BJ HAD HEARD someone say, when she first found herself alone in the world, the best possible placement for a child when that child has been orphaned must be with the closest relative. Ha! So not true for me, BJ thought as she straightened her room and made ready for another day, much the same as the day before. Her life was about to take on new depths, although she didn’t know it. At that moment, she had the business of everyday chores, although this day she couldn’t shake all the memories—memories that flitted vividly through her mind. She had been the only child—the only daughter of parents she had thought were the best in the world. Losing them for her had been an ordeal that had made her grow up almost overnight. However, even then, all those years ago when they had been alive and she had been happy, her life had never been quite normal. It didn’t matter, the abnormality, when her parents were there for her because they had made her feel special, and they had made her feel safe. She was twelve when that all came to a screeching halt in a car accident. She survived. Her mother had been a fairly new Irish immigrant to NYC and didn’t have any relatives in New York. Her dad was Irish too, but he did—a sister, and she took BJ in, but her Aunt Lisa didn’t really want her, and from the start BJ knew it. She saw Lisa’s point of view, had from the beginning. Lisa wasn’t so bad. She didn’t abuse her. Rather, she didn’t really know BJ was alive. Lisa was young. She wanted a life of her own. BJ was in the way, so Lisa did what she could. Mostly she ignored her young niece. She housed BJ, fed her, clothed her, and washed any guilt away by telling herself the kid was cared for and not shipped off to some foster home. BJ may have been only twelve, but she understood her aunt’s point of view. She really did. However, understanding and wanting were two very different things. The child in her longed for a bond with her aunt, and that child got zilch. BJ actually looked up to her Aunt Lisa. She saw her own dear father in her aunt’s features and reached out to her not as a parent but as a friend. Those were the early days when hope still resided in her heart. Growing up for BJ Mulroy was a lonely proposition. And then things got worse. BJ was what her aunt called ‘knock-down gorgeous’. Aunt Lisa didn’t like that at all. BJ had been sixteen when she studied herself in the mirror and wondered what her aunt had meant. She didn’t see the beauty her aunt Lisa was so ‘concerned’ about. Yes, her hair was an unusual shade of golden-streaked amber, yes, it was thick and shiny, but her aunt was absolutely a beauty, with pure gold hair and china-blue eyes. BJ told herself that her own eyes were only a dark shade of blue, that her nose was too pert, and her lips probably too full. Her aunt was the beauty—not she.

At any rate, her aunt Lisa made her stay in her room when she had ‘friends’ over. BJ did what she was told, always—she wanted her aunt to love her. When she turned seventeen her aunt decided she was old enough to be on her own. She found and set BJ up in a small, one-bedroom apartment over a very respectable restaurant in Roslyn, and BJ finished out her senior year of high school there. She didn’t have a car and had to get to school on her bike. Rainy days were hard. She managed. Now she was twenty-one, and where was she? Still living in that same apartment. She had become friends with the restaurant owner, Izzy—dear Izzy—and had taken a job working there. She used to waitress but now tended bar a couple of nights a week and managed the restaurant the other five. She was putting herself through college, majoring in English Literature, and thought she might like to teach one day. The Hunt Club Restaurant (not really a Hunt Club) was a casual but very nice place that Izzy had gone to great lengths to landscape and decorate over the years. Inside the bar was separated from the dining area by a half wall that housed large, leafy green plants. Izzy was leaving for the evening and waved herself off. It occurred to BJ as she watched the plump, dark-haired woman that Izzy Minor was the best friend she had in the world. Izzy was a tough, middle-aged woman who had helped and encouraged BJ from the first day she had arrived. However, BJ never told Izzy she had a secret … a very huge secret. BJ knew she could never tell her she could see Fae. How could she tell her that? Izzy would think she was nuts. So she kept it to herself. She had to. She knew all the old stories. She couldn’t give herself away to the Fae. Her mother had told her the Fae used to blind Seers, and that was what she was—a Fios (a woman who could see the Fae). She knew the Fae supposedly no longer blinded or killed Seers. She wasn’t so sure, however, they wouldn’t whisk one off if discovered to live in Faery! No way did she want that. BJ kept a low profile whenever she spotted a group of Fae and never let on that she could see through their human facade. It was already late May, and although she was used to her awful schedule of school, work, school, she felt a little blue as she realized she didn’t have a life. Because it was a Tuesday it was very slow both in the restaurant and the bar. Only a couple of local men were seated at the bar she tended. They were enjoying their drink and quiet conversation when he came in. She noticed him at once. He was tall and thin, too thin. He had a nice, warm smile and soft, gray eyes. She guessed him to be around thirty years old. He sat down like he was exhausted and took a long breath of air before he ordered a Guinness. She said gently, because he looked like he needed a friend, “Rough day?” He scanned her face and made up his mind about something. It looked like he had just made a weighty decision as he replied, “Rough day.” He had a lovely Irish brogue, and she thought of her parents. Her dad was Irish American born and bred in New York, but her mother had come to New York all dewyeyed and eighteen. BJ heard her mother’s Irish lilt in her head. His voice brought that back to her, and she couldn’t help it—she warmed to him at once. “Okay, Irish, anything you need to get off your chest … you go ahead.” He looked directly into her blue eyes and said as he extended his hand, “Brian—Brian

Carrick.” “BJ Mulroy,” she countered warmly. “Ah, a kinswoman.” His smile started in his twinkling eyes, but he sounded tired. “Yup,” she answered brightly, “on both sides. My mom was a Kilkenny.” He nodded and sipped his beer, and she asked, “Are you visiting family or friends here in Roslyn?” A half smile fluttered across his face as he sighed. “No … I just had a bit of business to take care of here in the area.” She loved the singsong of his Irish accent and wanted it to go on. “I hope it was successful for you?” She eyed him doubtfully because his face was drawn in sadness. “Aye, it went well.” “Then my next question is why are you looking so glum?” “Am I? Tired, I suppose. I probably should go back to my motel room and make my arrangements to return home.” “Home being South—or North Ireland?” She was fascinated. She had done some traveling with her parents when she was a child. They had gone to Disney, and another trip they had taken had been a beautiful vacation on Shelter Island. Those were memories—the travel brochures in her room were just ‘wishes’. “Aye, home is in southeast Ireland, and … meaning no disrespect to yer lovely USA, but I miss it sorely.” “Well, sure you do. Probably have a lady waiting on you back there.” She blushed as she saw the question in his eyes and realized how that had sounded. She was not interested in him romantically. She had no devious intentions by asking the question. It had only been idle chatter. He answered her carefully. His entire demeanor changed. Anger seemed to light in his tired eyes. Then all at once it vanished, and the quiet that was major to his aura came back as he answered her. “No lady back home … and I don’t suppose I’ll have any time now to repair the omission.” “Time? You aren’t ancient, fella. You have lots of time.” She laughed. He sighed. “Apparently not.” BJ’s eyebrows arched with puzzlement. “What does that mean?” “Don’t you get enough bad news bartending? You don’t need mine.” “I am only filling in. Lately I manage this place and play hostess. Tell me if you want to get it off your chest. Don’t if you want to keep it to yourself. I don’t want to pry.” She had a feeling he really needed to talk. He did need and wanted to talk—badly. So they did. He started by telling her all about his place in Ireland. It was called Castlesand Grange, which played like a dream in her imagination. She thought to herself—wow! They talked until late, and she was completely impressed with him, but it was his gentleness that drew her to him, not his obvious and understated wealth. That was how it all started. At any rate, he left feeling better, and she closed up the restaurant feeling somehow sad. She was sure something was terribly wrong in Brian’s life. She went back to the bar as it was still open for drinks and some of the locals weren’t ready to leave. Finally. She breathed a sigh of relief after the last customer departed and she locked up for the night. That was when it happened. Sometimes she felt something and knew it was a whisper

of things to come—BJ often got those feelings. Other times she got a blast of what was definitely on its way. What happened next foreshadowed what was coming—the Unseelie! She felt something merge with and enter the atmosphere. She brushed it off as one of her many inexplicable premonitions. And then it happened. She had never seen a dark Fae before, though she had heard the stories from her mother. She knew a great deal of Fae history. However, she would not have believed they had escaped the Dark Realm had she not seen them with her own eyes, and there was no mistaking one of them when she saw it. She had closed up for the evening and was in the shadows of the parking lot when she saw them for the first time—two of them. Her mouth opened, and she wished silently that it wasn’t happening—that somehow they weren’t there in her parking lot. Things were bad enough without this too … She ducked her head and averted her gaze, even while telling herself behaving like an ostrich wouldn’t save her. However, they hadn’t noticed her yet as they stood with each other in conversation. Monsters, misshapen, drooling, and looking for food with shark eyes. She was using the shadow of the building and shrubbery as camouflage as she headed for the narrow flight of wooden stairs to her apartment when she saw a car pull into the parking lot. Two young women jumped out. She wanted to shout loud and clear, Get back in your car and drive off—go on, go, the restaurant is closed! Couldn’t they see the lights were out? However, if she made so public a display, she would draw the Dark Fae’s attention not only to herself, but to where she lived. Could they shift? Her mother had taught her that not all castes of dark Fae could shift. The grotesque Unseelie moved closer to the girls, which put them in the glowing light of the street lamp, and BJ saw them in their full glory—abominations. They were things—creatures gross beyond measure. Grimacing in disgust, her hand went out involuntarily towards the young women. What could she do? She had to do something. These things were throbbing with hunger. She could see the saliva dripping from the openings she presumed were their mouths. Evidently they had the power to use what the Seelie Fae used to walk amongst humans, Glamour. The beautiful Seelie Fae used Glamour to hide their alien eyes and make them seem more human. These two were using Glamour, but it just barely concealed what they were. BJ heard one of them chanting and decided they were also using a spell to create the illusion of two attractive young men. The women were giggling like schoolgirls, and BJ had her hand over her mouth with horror as she stilled the scream in her throat. Those two are in trouble. BJ’s mind started working overtime. Must do something. The human Glamour the two beasts used scarcely concealed their spidery bodies, but their mesmerizing spell seemed to have the two girls in a trance. BJ looked around her, determined to do something that would save the girls— preferably while not getting herself killed. Again she had to consider whether or not this particular caste of Dark Fae could shift. She would be in deep shit if they were able to move that fast. She used her mind and tried to scan one of the monster’s thoughts. Ugh—gross! Okay—no shifters here. They were the lowest cast of dark Fae, and all they had on their minds was feeding on humans … These were things that looked to her like they had just crawled out of the ‘Black

Lagoon’—the muck still hanging off their bodies. Somehow they had found a portal to her world! They were passing themselves off as human men—in order to feed. They would suck those girls dry, take everything they had, and leave nothing but a husk of a body! The two looked alike (maybe they could tell each other apart—she sure couldn’t). Each thing had two upper rows of jagged teeth and drooled in clumps of thick goo. And yet, these two women were smiling at them in a worshipping mode as they made dove eyes for the dark Unseelie. Definitely spelled, BJ decided. She was frozen in place and sick to her stomach. It was like watching a horror movie, knowing something was going to happen, and reaching out and screaming, ‘No don’t,’ but the characters in the movie never listen. They always tumble head on into the danger. She didn’t know how the Unseelie had escaped their prison; however, at the moment that wasn’t her concern. Two things guided her: she needed to protect her anonymity, and she needed to help the two women. She knew turning around and walking away was not an option. She just couldn’t. So the question remained: how could she help? She had to find a way. One of them put out a clawed thing and scraped it along the woman’s arm. BJ knew he was hurting her, but she seemed oblivious. Okay, do something, she screamed at herself in her mind. What do you know? I know Fae history. Hundreds of very different Unseelie castes had been created by the Dark King. Not much more was known about them. All had some Fae powers … She had no idea which caste these two uglies represented. She had no idea what she could do to stop them. Her mom had taught her everything she needed to know about the Fae, but she had only given her a sketchy description of the Unseelies, knowledge passed down their matriarchal Fios line. As the Unseelies began to seriously hurt the women with their touching, BJ slapped her forehead. Think—stop them! She was nearly freaked as she looked around frantically to see what she could use to distract the girls from the spell. Things in her life were damned complicated enough with the beautiful Fae walking around her world. Now she had monsters to deal with! If she didn’t act, she knew the night would end with these women writhing in pain before they died. She went into her Fios and screamed at the women. “They are bruising you! Wake up!” One of the girls shuddered and moved her head oddly. However, she didn’t seem to notice blood was beginning to flow freely from a wound on her upper arm. Think! The Unseelie had guided the women close to the shrubbery, and BJ supposed they meant to dump the women’s bodies there when they were done with them. Oh-ughno—one of them was lapping up the blood from the woman’s open wound. The other one had her other arm … That was it; BJ was beyond frantic and was just about to throw herself into the mix and pray she might be able to scare them off, when she spied exactly what she needed, and it was just a few feet away. No more than an arm’s length in distance was the switch to the sprinkler system Izzy had long ago installed. Bless you, Izzy! She would have to act quickly. It would cause a diversion, which was all she needed to momentarily break the spell and get into women’s minds. She quietly opened the metal door of the box and flipped on the switch. It made a

strange gurgling sound before it started to spit out water in spurts. The sudden noise made the Unseelies look round warily. They saw me. Shit! Damn and double shit! BJ screwed up her mouth, tried smiling nonchalantly, and started to walk backwards towards her apartment staircase at the side of the building. Bam! The water came on full force, and all four—humans and Unseelies—got instantly sprayed with cold water! The Unseelies put up their appendages—one might loosely call their arms. The women screamed, one of them wildly as she looked down and saw her open wound and the blood streaming down between her fingers. Mesmerizing Spell and illusion temporarily broken. BJ slammed their minds with, Go home, home, go home! BJ’s mind shouted, and she hoped her skill was practiced enough to do the job. She wasn’t sure it would really work. She had only started to learn the skill from her mom before she lost her and had been afraid to try and use it since. Once more she tried again. Go now, get into your cars and drive away. Don’t look at them. The girls were screaming at the top of their lungs, sprayed with cold water, with no understanding of what had happened. They jumped in the car and sped off, tires squealing. BJ was momentarily pleasantly amazed. It had worked. She had actually managed to get through to them while they weren’t spelled! Neat trick, she teased herself. Maybe I could ace my courses with it? Get into old man Wacket’s head and tell him to give me an A. She smiled to herself and then noticed the two dark Fae were turning away from their lost meal! She ducked into the shadows, hugged the wall, and ran up the stairs while the Unseelie shouted obscenities at one another. She heard their really awful and disgruntled snorts as they looked around, obviously aware someone had intervened. Quick, quick. She fumbled for the keys to her door and then closed it hurriedly and quietly at her back. She knew they weren’t sure what had come between them and their prey, but she sank down to her old worn wood floor and held her breath. After a few minutes she got up the courage and went to her window and saw that their vehicle was gone. Spidery Unseelies that drove? The notion was almost comical. She closed her wood shutters. Even as she sighed with relief, it occurred to her these two would go on hunting until they found humans to feed on. She was sure they hadn’t seen her go to her apartment—right? She then asked herself, if they had, would they try and break down her door? She didn’t think so; their nature was to live and work in the shadows. There was no doubt in her mind that before the night was over those beasts would find other women to bedazzle with illusion so they could suck the life out of them. That was a fact she could do nothing about. What the hell was going on? Weren’t the Seelie Fae supposed to round the Unseelie escapees up and put them back in their prison? Someone was getting lax on the job!

Have a quick taste of the first book in Claudy Conn’s steamy vampire series: ShadowLove—Stalkers

~ Prologue ~ A LONG, LONG time ago … Little was known of the infamous Dracula’s mother, and during the first twenty-five years of Dracula’s somewhat normal life he knew nothing of her at all. Hers was a name no one in his father’s household was allowed to speak, and Vlad Dracula grew to manhood believing she was dead. That was what his father had told him … He discovered her name when he was just coming into his teens. At first, he used to whisper it on the wind—Elizabeth. He didn’t know that she had only been sixteen and full of life, with eyes the color of fresh spring grass and hair the color of gathered honey, the day his father saw her. He didn’t know she had been an innocent approaching maturity with an enormous secret she kept well hidden from the outside world. She kept those secrets still … When Count Wendall Dracula came to the Highlands, locals looked away in fear, for his behavior was brutish. They were suspicious of him and recognized that he was a warrior with a ‘rough old Eastern mindset’. He rode out on his horse every morning, and on one of those mornings he saw Elizabeth. She had been picking wildflowers for her grandfather—her parents had been killed in a wagon accident the year before, so it was just she and her grandfather. Wildflowers for the wine her grandfather was making … The count took one look at her and decided he had to have her, cursing whatever consequences there might be. He wanted her—that was all he cared about. And in the stealth of night he managed to abduct Elizabeth MacFare from her grandfather, and her home. During those first ten months Elizabeth’s grandfather and village friends searched for her everywhere. They had no idea who had taken her. Wendall Dracula left behind no clues. Back in his country, the count didn’t court her, he didn’t cherish her, and he didn’t really love her. Elizabeth was a possession to him, and she despised him—all the while, planning her escape. She became pregnant almost immediately, and when she discovered she was pregnant with twins, she enlisted the help of her young midwife and friend. Together they kept the knowledge that she was pregnant with twins a secret from the overbearing count. He only knew she was going to have his child, and for him that was enough; it was what he wanted. She got larger during those first months of pregnancy, he lost interest, and he left her to her own devices while he pursued other women—and other entertainment. It gave her

the freedom to plot out her course. Elizabeth had made up her mind that as soon as they were born, she would take one of her twins and run … Her plan was well thought out. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the only way she knew to save at least one of her children, and herself, and return home. She did not fear for the child she would leave behind. She knew that although the count was a selfish, often mean-spirited, and willful man, he wanted a child with all his heart, and she believed that he would love his child. Her twins were born, and her plan was put into action. The count was enamored with the one son that was put into his huge hands and had no clue that he had twins. He no longer had any interest in Elizabeth, for she had served her purpose. When the midwife told him she had a difficult delivery and needed rest, he was more than willing to leave her to her sickbed as he coddled his son and cavorted with his court. Thus, with her son hidden in her arms, she ran for the border, and there bought her way home to her grandfather. In the ‘old country’ the count poured all his time and endeavors into the hearty son Elizabeth had given him before she fled his house. He didn’t bother trying to follow her. His pride prohibited him from caring. He had not allowed her name to be mentioned in his presence, and he told everyone that he had gotten news of her death. His son, Vlad Dracula, gave him great joy, and as Elizabeth expected, Vlad’s childhood was a pleasant one. As Vlad grew to manhood and took on the duties of a warrior, his father slapped shoulders of his friends and claimed his son’s prowess with great pride. Truly, his son was strong and capable. However in his quiet hours, he thought to himself, If only he were less gentle of nature—less good-hearted. And then, Vlad fell in love and married a lass that was as beautiful of heart as she was of face. Vlad adored her, and she softened his combative nature and drew on the gentleness that was, and should have remained, his. Vlad’s father was furious. He wanted war with other lands. He wanted to take on and destroy any that opposed war. He needed more land, more gold, and his son was being swayed against such things by his new bride. While Vlad was away defending their territory, the count engineered the death of Vlad’s beloved bride. And so the legend began. Vlad discovered his father’s hand in his bride’s death and responded by picking up his long sword, which he plunged deep into and through his father’s heart. His rage not assuaged, he then sliced across his father’s neck so vigorously that the count’s head, splattering blood everywhere, went flying across the room. His father was not immortal. His father was not a vampire. Dracula looked at the corpse of his father and felt only one thing: rage. Vlad became Count of Dracula, and he went on the bloody rampage that won him the title “Vlad the Impaler”. It was then that he discovered that he was immortal. He knew at once that this had not come from his father’s side of the family. He had often seen his father sustain an injury that took as long as most to heal. He realized that all his life, his wounds had healed quickly—too quickly to be a natural thing.

And so a curiosity that had always been in the back of his head was revived. His mother—what had really happened to his mother? If she had given him this self-healing ability he possessed, surely she had not died. Was she also immortal? Why then had she left him? However, his new and decadent life enveloped him, and he put the question aside. Vlad Dracula, father of all vampire tales, was not by the true definition of the word, a vampire. He did not die, to awake a vampire. He did not die and awake with a thirst for blood. He did not die and awaken an immortal. He was born an immortal. His lust for blood and killing was born from the need for revenge and the loss of his soul in black magic. He became skilled in the dark arts as he denounced God and all religion. He dove into wicked pursuits in an effort to eradicate the memory of his beloved. Memory was too painful; memory left him empty. And then he began turning humans. He discovered quite by accident that if he allowed a human he had impaled to drink his blood they would die, yes, but be reborn with a thirst for blood, and a need to kill. This amused him for a time. One day, something someone said made him remember that his mother was an immortal and must have untold abilities. He grew bitter when he thought about her. Why had she left him was a question that ate at the soul he had not quite lost. His soul was a dark, dense shade of black, but it was there somewhere inside of him. Thus, in the nineteenth century he began his search for her. He only knew his mother’s name had been Elizabeth. In the Highlands of Scotland, his mother and Dracula’s twin had prospered over the centuries, keeping their secrets to themselves. Elizabeth MacFare’s grandfather had died shortly after her return and had left her his fortune intact. She knew her grandfather was not immortal, knew of course that neither of her parents were immortal, and she wondered how it was that she was. At that time, she hadn’t realized the truth of the matter. Elizabeth had named the son she kept with her John, and he took her family name— MacFare. Together they went forward. She never ceased to mourn the empty spot she had for her other son, Vlad Dracula. She knew that one day he might discover that she and John were alive— And tales of what he had become made his mother’s gentle heart tremble.

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.” Judy Garland

~ One ~ CHADWICK MACFARE STOOD on the stone steps of Darby Bray Grange, his Scottish home, and stared up at the stars. They were bright and appeared full of untold stories. Some of the stars seemed to take shape, forming a warning in the night sky. He had just walked Mary Beth to her car, and he watched as she started to drive off. Her convertible top was down, and her red hair glowed in the dim lights that lined his courtyard. He had felt nothing but relief as he watched her leave. She was a lovely, experienced young woman, and he thought she had understood the rules. He had told her from the start he was looking for ‘fun’—not friendship, not a romantic tie, nothing stable … He had told her they could never have a future together. She was a worldly lass, and he was sure she understood what he had said to her. However, apparently he had been off the mark. Every expression on her classically lovely face lately had told him she wanted permanence, at odds with the fact that everything about her told him that she was not in love with him. She wanted position, money, and power. Lately, every word she spoke seemed to hold less affection for him, seemed calculated. This night, more than ever, she had tried to force his hand. She had suggested that if he weren’t ready to declare himself, she might have to start ‘seeing’ other men. He had given her a long look. He had already decided it was over between them. He answered softly, “Aye then, Mary Beth, you are entitled to do that, and have the life you want.” “I want it with you,” she snapped at him. “You want it with what I own.” “You are being cynical.” “I am being truthful.” She had dropped the subject and had instead returned to enticing him physically, but he had already made up his mind to say goodnight. He sensed her resignation as she turned away. She knew he was saying good-bye, and he knew she wouldn’t be deterred. “You want me. You will always want me. We are good together.” He had frowned. She didn’t want to see the truth—and Mary Beth had a history of parading her men on her arm. He knew she would fight losing him. She had stroked his dark blond hair and kissed his hard chin. “You know I more than

want you, Chad.” “Do I know that? Mary Beth … come on—let me walk you out to your car …” “But … we are good for each other.” “No—in fact, we are not.” She pulled away. “Ah—this sounds like good-bye.” She wasn’t looking at him as the words were spat from her pretty red lips. “Mary Beth … I told you what I wanted—didn’t want—from the start.” However, she was already out of his bed and throwing on her clothes. “Don’t ye worry none about it, love. Ye be in the right of it. I knew where this was going the first time you kissed me. It was always about good-bye.” He threw on some clothes and followed her, walking her to her car parked at the wide, long steps of the MacFare Manor. She drove away without looking back at him. The night sky was bright with stars, and those stars reminded him of Shawna’s silver eyes. The last time he had seen her he had wanted to reach out and touch her … but she was a vision, only a vision. And then his body felt a ripple of pain. He felt a hiss make its way up his throat, but he controlled the savage sound. He wouldn’t make animal sounds. He sighed heavily, as he thought of the Blood Orchard. He hadn’t needed it in so long … He had other things on his mind as well. He was going to come out of the shadows of anonymity and make certain Pentim Rawley’s life force disintegrated by his own hands. And he was going to have to use the pretty blond-haired, silver-eyed innocent, Shawna Wellsly, to accomplish his goals. He had known that for months. He could no longer do what his father and grandmother required. He could no longer be content to stand along the edge and keep out of the fray. His grandmother had already objected to his plan. She had called Shawna an innocent who should not be drawn into the new war, but he no longer had a choice … and at any rate, Pentim was already searching for the girl. She couldn’t escape Pentim and his clan without help. There were too many of the Rawley Clan, and some of them had powers that were singularly suited for stalking. No one knew the secrets his grandmother and father harbored. None knew his own deeply personal sorrows—sorrows born of power he wished he didn’t possess. However, as of late, he was glad for the mana he owned. It gave him an edge, an edge he knew he would need soon. He had turned to go back into his home when it hit him. A blast of darkness assaulted him, and he put a hand to his head. He felt as though he were being pulled into a black hole, then discovered himself on the other side—another episode. He stood close to her. He reached out, but of course he was in a vision; she couldn’t see him or feel his presence. He couldn’t touch her, but damn, he sure as hell wanted to. She was wearing a black silk nightgown. One thin strap fell from her shoulder, and her full breasts captured his attention. She stretched and then climbed into her bed. He felt a blast of desire, and his sudden hard-on made him uncomfortable. She was so incredibly beautiful with her golden hair a mass of waves around her intoxicatingly lovely face. Shawna had been the woman that occupied his visions. In his nightmare vision he had seen Pentim Rawley take her and turn her … He couldn’t let that happen—she was too important to him. He needed her to play a

role in his plans to take down Pentim and his Rawley clan. All at once and with that thought, he realized where he was—on his front steps. He shook it all off as he went inside and closed the door at his back. He still had a hard-on, and the image of her face and body swam around his mind, keeping him hot with desire. There was no way he was going to allow himself to get involved with the beauty. He wanted one thing from her only, and that was to set her up as bait! He had goals to accomplish. He had his family’s anonymity, so deeply treasured, to protect. He would have to proceed with stealth. Another night to the full moon. and then he would be prepared for what lay ahead … *** Had she known, Shawna Wellsly would not have agreed with his summation of her abilities—and innocent? She did not think so. Had the question of her innocence come up, she might have conceded that in some ways perhaps she was, but in most ways, she was streetwise and more. She had to be—she wanted to live, and she wanted to find a life more fulfilling than just staying alive. However, now, staying alive would be good. Pentim and his clan had other plans for her, and she would have to be at her most cautious if she were to elude them. Her grandparents had warned of this day, and here it was up close and way too personal. The clan she feared the most—the clan all others feared—was searching for her. Some young are raised without the help of a father because the father had died or walked away. Shawna’s father would have done much worse had he known of her existence. He would have turned her and then used her special abilities. The thought she could be turned— made to kill, to take human blood—sickened and terrified her. And now when her entire life lay before her, she had to give it up because Pentim had accomplished the unthinkable—he had discovered he had a daughter. Six months ago she had one of her ‘dreams’. In it she saw Pentim Rawley—leader of the Rawley clan, or as he liked to think of himself, vampire prince—in the moments after he learned that he had a daughter. And Shawna knew what she had to do. She immediately took to the road. She had a plan, and it was simple: she had to keep running. She had another plan as well, but it was too complicated, too tricky, too involved and might even give her away. Oh yeah, she thought on a dark scowl, that plan needs some serious tweaking before I can put it in use. Shawna nimbly glided down the Avenue of Americas towards Forty-Fifth Street in Manhattan. Traffic was as usual totally wild. The sounds of the city were at their peak as rush hour would soon take the city into high gear. She picked up her steps. She would have to hurry to make her appointment with her attorney on time. She glanced at her watch. Late—she was going to be late. Story of her life: running and late. She had to have funds transferred to a bank in the Highlands of Scotland—her next stop. She had a cottage waiting for her there where she could hide and keep a low profile. She knew that sooner or later she would have to leave New York, because she had spotted one or two more vamps lately than normal. Were they looking for her? A tickling sensation sprinted up her spine and landed in the back of her neck. She

knew before she looked—someone was watching her. She stopped and pretended to admire a pretty dress displayed in the shop window. At first, she saw only the yellow sundress inviting all women to get ready for the summer only months ahead. She saw her own image reflected back at her: a young woman with thick, blonde, and at the moment windblown long hair. She made a show of sliding her hands over her tightly fitted black jacket and pulled at its banded waist before she smoothed her hands over her blue jean– clad thighs. She turned partially on the heels of her high black leather boots, and then saw him off to her left. Her silver eyes gave nothing away as she looked him over. He stood a few feet from her, and he made no effort to hide himself. He wore an expensive, form-fitting black leather jacket over a dark gray T-shirt. Jeans covered, long muscular legs. Black leather boots with silver tips finished his high-priced ensemble, and then her eyes glanced back at his face. Whew! Sexy, hot, and handsome in an all too memorable way. Was he following her? She was sure he was following her. Why? This wasn’t the first time she had seen him that day. She had caught a glimpse of his profile earlier … After all, he wasn’t the sort that could go unnoticed, and this she decided was not a coincidence. She didn’t believe in coincidences. She pretended to glance at her watch and then hurried along. She felt him move in line with her, and this time, he got closer. She stopped at the intersection of Forty-Second and glanced around casually. He was only a few feet away. He wasn’t looking at her, and yet, she felt she was in his sights. What does he want? He wasn’t one of the Rawley clan members—of that she was certain. The fact was that even if she hadn’t had the ability to know human from vampire, a vamp wouldn’t be out in the sun, no matter how cool the day might be. Yet … he wasn’t quite human either. His tawny hair blew around his chiseled and handsome face. He was tall, he was amazingly well built, and she had to ditch him as fast as she could. Suddenly, with a speed that was vamp-fast, he was at her side, touching her arm as he whispered, “We need to talk.”

About Claudy Conn Claudy Conn, a native New Yorker, now lives with her husband, Bob; their wolf, Cherokee; and Cherokee’s son, Rocky Man, who weighs in presently at 190 pounds. She loves horses and riding and raised her ten-year-old gelding Southern Pride from the moment he was born. She also loves gardening, swimming, skiing, hiking, and travel—and of course, reading, writing, but no, she says, no arithmetic! To get her monthly news, her reviews for all her new paranormal romances, and excerpts, come on and visit her at her website: http://claudyconn.embarqspace.com To see pictures of Cherokee and her Shep./wolf son!, have a look at her facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Claudy-Conn-Paranormal-RomanceAuthor/135826686471445