CHAPTER ONE Is this the end?

I was distracted. Who wouldn’t be? If I still lived in the U.S., I’d either be planning Thanksgiving or hoping I’d get invited someplace where my contribution would be a bottle of wine and a store bought pie. What I’m doing instead is wondering if my life story is about to take a hard right turn toward dystopia.

“Where are you?” Keir snapped his fingers.

I blinked, grateful that the sound of his voice had pulled me out of my hopelessly dark reverie.

Instead of answering his question, I asked one of my own. “Are you afraid?”

He looked puzzled by the question. “No. Reasoned judgment and caution are part of my makeup. Fear is not.”

I nodded absently. “Sounds right.” It certainly did fit with everything I’d come to know about the supremely magical creature I call spouse. “What does your ‘reasoned judgment’ tell you?”

With a smile so enigmatic it might be overlooked by someone less attentive than I, he said, “To be cautious.”

“You’re funny for a sephalian.”

“It’s a gift.” To my credit, I managed to reward his attempt at being upbeat with a chuckle. Laugh while Rome burns and all that. But he wasn’t finished. “Not to be dismissive. Precautions are decidedly in order.”

“What does that mean? Extra security?”

“Indeed. In the spirit of erring on the side of caution, I’m inviting my brothers to join us tomorrow.”

“Bringing in the big guns for backup.” I smiled in spite of Rome burning. “Say that five times fast.”

“If you’re referring to my brothers and not my impressive biceps, then yes. Told Killian I’d wash the plaid right out of his kilt if he’s either late or drunk.”

“Hope we’re still able to casually appreciate your sense of humor at the end of the day tomorrow.” He grunted softly. “For that matter, hope we’re still alive.”

As if to punctuate that dramatically, the mudroom door slammed. Evie breezed into the kitchen in her usual style which meant she was visiting unannounced and without knocking. Normally my dogs would let me know seconds before she arrived, but they were away visiting family. I didn’t really mind that Evie treated mi casa like su casa. Kitchens are not bedrooms after all. Although there was that time…

Since my daughter was perfectly capable of popping in without using a door, I chose to be grateful for small courtesies.

Still, I said, “You could knock.”

“Why?” she asked.

“To make me aware that a guest has arrived?”

“I slammed the door!” she said. “Hard!” An irrefutable fact. “And. I heard that last thing.”

I smiled, seeing that being queen of Irish fae didn’t override my kid’s tendency to go rosy-cheeked in the bluster of a chilly November day. “Come sit by the fire,” I said. “Liv made chocolate scones.”

Her head jerked toward the AGA where they were safely stashed to stay warm. “Chocolate?”

I chuckled. “Yeah. You’d almost think we knew you were coming.”

I was talking to air. She was focused on snagging one of Olivia’s masterpiece pastries in a way that suggested an irrational fear of being challenged by wolves. An intense determination to claim one of Liv’s scones was hardly unusual. Liv’s cooking was certainly a big part of the popularity of Legendary Lunch. My brounie housekeeper could’ve been head chef at Relais & Châteaux establishment if she didn’t work for me.

I knew better than to ask a question of a person with a mouthful of scone, but couldn’t help myself. “Can’t help but wonder. Aren’t you able to poof chocolate scones into being?”

It wasn’t a test, but as the person principally responsible for teaching her manners, I was still proud that she answered post-swallow.

“Of course I could whip up a batch of chocolate scones. That parts not hard. What’s impossible is this result. Liv has her own kind of magic.”

“That she does.” I agreed.

“Well.” Keir said as he slid his chair back and stood. “Fascinating as the conversation and company are, I have things to do.”

“People to see?” I asked.

“Not in the flesh.”

“Right. Just on… How many screens are streaming on your grid all at once?”

“Sixteen.”

“Right. Sixteen.” I pushed the cup of tea away in favor of the Starbucks Evie had just conjured and set in front of me. Bless her! “Have fun then.”

He kissed me on top of the head. “Don’t worry.”

Suddenly I was drawn back into the black hole that might be my future. “Why? ‘Cause we’ll all go down together?”

It was his turn to chuckle. “Not saying that. But I will say this. No matter what, we’ll do it together.”

My eyes followed as he left the room. It was a day for finding appreciation in the smallest pleasures. There was odd comfort in his parting comment. Keir was pledging that I’d not be crossing the veil alone. Vowing to die with me rang the bell when it comes to grand romantic gestures. With one big problem. I could die. Keir could not. At least that was my understanding. Naturally he wasn’t afraid. At least not of death. He might prefer not being a widower. I was on Team Rita Survival myself.

Evie sat next to the fire with her yummy treasure having almost disappeared from the Royal Doulton plate. Her own Starbucks cup had appeared next to the plate without my noticing. If any effort had been needed to perform such a feat, I missed it.

After polishing off the last three bites, she said, “Where were we?”

“You’d just confessed to eavesdropping.”

“Did not,” she countered. “You heard me come in.”

“Did not.”

She gaped. “You already agreed you heard the door slam.”

“Yes, but you and I both know the progression went like this. You entered the mudroom, heard us talking, then slammed the door.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I don’t have to.”

“In what universe can you make outlandish accusations without responsibility or consequences?”

“In the kind of universe where Irish queens make stuff up. You cannot win this argument, Evie. If I have to, I’ll pay the Mom card. Want to hear about the flickering light in the delivery room again?”

She huffed. “No. I’ll definitely cry ‘uncle’ before sitting through laborious color commentary. Again.” With a raised eyebrow, she added, “But all I overheard was you making predictions about the outcome of tomorrow’s proceeding.”

“I wasn’t making predictions. If I was clairvoyant, I could save myself an awful lot of grief. It was more wishful thinking.”

“Let me add to it then. I hope that at the end of the day tomorrow there’s still a British Isle.”

I felt my frown lines deepening. “Wow. So not helpful.” She shrugged. Time to change the subject. “How’s my granddaughter?” Evie’s lips parted to reply, but froze along with the rest of her features. I followed her line of sight. “Oh geez. Not again.”

She blinked rapidly then refocused on me. “This has happened before?”

“Oh yeah. All the time. Let me back that up. I mean to say it’s been a constant occurrence since the hearing.”

I hadn’t needed to turn and look to know we were talking about a crow sitting on the sill just outside the kitchen sink window. Even so, I did turn and look. The bird’s head was turned in profile so that one eye could stare at us.

“That’s unusual,” Evie said.

With a deep sigh, I nodded. “I know. It’s a message.”

“What is it?”

I couldn’t help it. I was on edge enough to be just a little impatient and a little irritable. “Just like you said, Evie. It’s a crow.”

“I know that. I meant what’s the message?”

“Oh. Not sure. But I think it just means, ‘I’m watching you’. If the purpose is to keep me unnerved, a raven at the window of whatever room I occupy is doing a bang up job. I’ve had to send Fen and Frey to stay with Lochlan and Ivy. I hate being without my pups, but the poor things were exhausted from being in a constant state of berserk.”

“I can see why. Electric blue is not the best color for bird eyes.”

“I know, right? It’s horror show CGI.”

She laughed. “No CGI needed, Mom. We’ve got real magic.”

“Speak for yourself. Human here.”

“Hmmm.”

She waggled her head in that special way that reminded me of six-year-old Evie. The “hmmm” was a correction in shorthand. If you don’t know what shorthand is, deposit the reference in the cubby where you keep the cassette tapes.

She was saying – that I’m mostly human. The health and longevity that comes as a perk of being magistrate combined with the health and longevity that’s a bonus from regularly exchanging fluids with a sephalian means I’m human plus. In some ways, I have extras. In other ways I’m still as vulnerable as any human

The unnervingly insightful house apparently drew the conclusion that my courage needed encouragement. When someone rang the bell, it chose to play “We Are the Champions”.

“Knock it off,” I said on my way to the front door. When there was no change, I stopped in the hallway. “Right now. And, yes, I mean you.”

The music stopped. Thank the gods! I love Freddie, but appreciation of Queen requires nerves with no frays or fringe. And. I didn’t have any enforcement capability. I couldn’t threaten the house with turning the car around, time out, or confiscating devices.

I opened the door without bothering to see who it was first. The sephalian and the queen of Irish fae were both in the house. You’d have to be either crazy or my nemesis to try me with those two nearby. As the door was swinging open, a voice in the back of my mind reminded me that Loki was, in fact, crazy. And my nemesis was shudder-worthy in anybody’s circle.

As luck would have it, neither of those waited on my porch. Nor was it one of their representatives like creeped up crows or cute, furry emotional support monsters. It was Maggie MacHenry and Lochlan Jois squabbling. You’d think it was a day as ordinary as any other.

Maggie temporarily stopped telling Lochlan off and looked at me. “I was here first,” she announced. “He saw me from across the lane and came runnin’.”

“That is ridiculous.” Lochlan huffed. “You’re becoming more unhinged with the passage of each day, Margaret. Do your kind lose their wits toward the end of their earthly tenure?”

Maggie pressed her lips together. “Why you old…”

Lochlan turned to me defensively. “The timing of our arrival is pure coincidental. I assure you.”

 

Good.

 

Grief.

 

Maggie opened her mouth to deliver what would, no doubt, have been a jaw-dropping retort. But I stepped in.

“Come in, you two.” I grabbed hold of their coat sleeves, first one, then the other, and pulled them across the threshold to reestablish a weather barrier. It was the only thing standing between us and gusts that rebelled against expectation. Far too aggressive and cold for the season. “Evie’s here. There’s a fire in the kitchen and I think we may still have a couple of chocolate scones.”

In keeping with her lifelong habit of refusing to be left out, Evie joined us by the front door. “This…” She gestured between Lochlan and Maggie. “…goes on in my household night and day. It’s enough to make a wooden Indian run from the castle screaming.”

I was confused. “What goes on in your household, darling?”

“The bickering. Thorn and Squeaky never tire of bickering about which of them is Rhiannon’s favorite. Grenvelma,” she turned to confide in my guests, “that’s the ogre-shifting nanny Maeve hired,” Evie paused to roll her eyes, “is completely ineffectual. I’m not sure she even tries to influence the behavior of those two. She just slams down mead, one stein after another, and goes to sleep in her giant carved Icelandic rocking chair. I’m telling you. The sounds that cheeky little dragon makes.” She shuddered. “Sometimes he reaches an octave of shriek that threatens to break windows. When that happens, you might think it wouldn’t be possible for things to get worse, but you’d be wrong. Diarmuid’s hounds never fail to add to the pandemonium. They come charging in from wherever they were, whatever they were doing – probably hunting for cheeseburgers – and proceed to add to the chaos with a cacophony of barking and howling that’s… Well. It’s just indescribable. It’s three hounds that manage to make themselves sound like thirty hounds. If I had it to do over again, I’d say no to Great Danes. Big deep voices, you know. When I insist that Diarmuid do something about it, he just laughs and says, ‘Come on, pumpkin.’ Or peaches. Or sugar. The king has a thing about calling me food. Anyway, he has the nerve to proclaim that, ‘Dogs will be dogs’. Ugh!” She shook her head. “Madness. It’s madness. I could probably sell the lot on the global arms market by advertising it as the supreme torture method.” She sniffed. “That’s out of the question, of course, because that level of psycho requires Rhiannon’s presence. If she wasn’t there, they’d all pretend their true natures are accurately expressed as quiet dignity. They’d have the nerve to pretend innocence. Naturally, I’m not selling my child, but I do have to take sanity breaks.” Turning to me, she said, “That’s why I’m here. You have no idea how priceless is this peace right here in your humble cottage.”

My humble cottage?

I thought about asking when she turned into a housing snob, but there was too much to unpack to dwell on that.

I picked a random place to begin. “Barking and howling?” I asked. “Why would they do that when they can talk?”

She waved her hand in the air like she was absently drawing an invisible sigil. “When they get excited, they forget they can talk.”

“Oh.” I gave silent thanks to the gods that my dogs don’t talk. Life was complicated enough with a talking car and a house with a mind of its own.

“You know,” Evie went on, “Thorn’s not so bad. My fondness for him grows every time he tries to spear Squeaky with his pretty horn. The aspiration is so delightful that I forgive him even when it makes matters worse.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be sorry I asked, but why would that make matters worse?”

“Because Squeaky figured out that the easiest way to avoid being impaled is to jump up and land on Thorn’s back. I say ‘jump up’ because it couldn’t really be called flying. The little demon beats his wings, but the best that can accomplish is a slight assist with jumping. You can imagine how well that goes over with the unicorn. What’s another word for berserk? No matter. The point is this. He usually destroys the entire wing of the palace trying to get that thing off his back. I don’t blame him. I’d fly over the cuckoo’s nest if I could feel that nasty thing on my back and couldn’t get it off. And! I swear to the gods, Squeaky loves mischief. He sits on Thorn’s back with his little stunted arms crossed and a maniacal grin.”

“Evie,” I said, “you might be imagining that last part.”

My kid looked at me like I’d slapped her. “You did NOT just say that!” She looked like her feelings were hurt for real. “If you think this is hyperbole, I’m going to curse you to experience it for yourself. Next time, I’m kidnapping you and, like it or not, you’ll be forced to witness for yourself that every word I’ve said is straight from the Book of True.” I sighed. “Another point in Thorn’s favor. Unicorns can’t be beat for good luck charms. But that miniature monster? I’d like to drop him off in Siberia where his little reptile ass would be paralyzed by permafrost. Freeze those ugly, discordant noises right in his skinny little neck and let him choke on them. Roto Rooter doesn’t make house calls in Siberia.”

“EVIE!” I was conflicted between laughing and chiding her for coarse language. As Rhiannon’s grandmother, I was worried that Evie might follow through with removing Squeaky from the household. The other grandmother, who’d gifted the dragon to Rhiannon, would undoubtedly be apoplectic and there’s no predicting what form the magical fallout of that would take. The only thing that could be predicted was that no one would escape Maeve’s wrath. I could appreciate Evie’s dilemma at the same time I could experience the Irish fae royalty’s version of a sitcom. “You live an interesting life, love.”

Evie nodded and said, “I do,” but her tone was a shade too somber for a mother’s comfort. I hoped that didn’t mean she was unhappy. “Squeaky’s the reason why Rhiannon’s magic showed up ahead of what Maeve told us to expect.”

“What?” This was news.

“Didn’t I tell you? I guess the dragon forced early onset. My little doll began using her magic to put out the fires he accidentally starts. Bless her precious baby soul. She also tidies up and puts things back to right so that our home doesn’t look like highway to hell. Maybe she knows that if he goes too far he’ll be banished to outdoors.”

“Isn’t that just a matter of when and not if? I mean, he can’t stay inside as a fully grown dragon.”

“No. Of course not. Diarmuid and Maeve both think it’s okay for him to be inside at this age. They think he’s bonding with Rhiannon in a way he wouldn’t if he was strictly an outside dragon.”

“I don’t want to add accelerant, so to speak, but how do you know the fires Squeaky starts are accidental?” I asked. I knew Rhiannon could probably take care of herself, even at two years old, but my tolerance runs out before we get to fire starting and stopping.

“Oh, I’d like to blame him and call it malicious mischief, but you can tell it’s not that,” Evie said.

“How?”

“He kind of looks embarrassed. Like he farted or something.”

“I fail to see how this relates to us or the problem at hand, Your Majesty” Lochlan said.

Evie and I stared at him for a couple of silent beats. In keeping with his elven nature, Lochlan was nothing if not pragmatic.

“Well, Lochlan,” Evie said, “my mother is not only interested in details about the day to day of her daughter and granddaughter. She’s entitled to know what’s up with us.”

When Lochlan opened his mouth, I jumped in. Whatever he was about to say was probably best redirected.

“Let’s not stand here by the door,” I said. “Come warm yourselves in the kitchen. Kettle’s on.”

“And scones,” Maggie added heading toward the back of the house. If there was just one left, she’d be arriving first.

“Waiting in the AGA,” I called after her cheerfully, glad to be back on track with meaningless small talk.

“The scones are heavenly. Just ignore the blue-eyed crow,” Evie said.

So much for small talk.

Maggie froze in her tracks – so that we almost ran into her – then turned to face us. “Blue-eyed crow?”

The spark in her eyes reminded me that just beneath the surface of the jovial, sometimes silly, Irishwoman who kept things lively on the village green was a banshee with unspeakable power. On one of our morning dog outings, Lochlan had once told me that even the Powers That Be didn’t know the extent of what Maggie could conjure. He’d gone on to say that, if that power were ever be joined with that of her sisters, there was little in heaven or hell that could answer.

“Um. Yeah,” I said.

“Just the one?” Maggie asked.

“I can’t be sure if it’s one or more. They all look alike to me,” I said. “But every day one shows up and turns an eye toward the window of whatever room I occupy.”

“You could close the shutters,” Lochlan offered, conclusively proving that being a magical creature takes a backseat to being male.

“Of course I could do that, Lochlan. But I choose not to be imprisoned in my own house by a bird. I have a staunch preference for natural light and seeing what’s outside.”

“O’course she does, ye old fool,” Maggie told him. To Evie and me, she said, “‘Tis no’ really a bird, you know. ‘Tis a villain with feathers.”

“We’re ignoring it,” I reassured her.

“Speak for yourself. I’m not ignoring it,” Evie protested. “I’m thinking explosion of feathers followed by a good bottle of champagne.”

“First, we’re not getting morning drinking started. Second, only if your majestic magic does windows as well as explosions. Olivia’s off today.” I hastily added, “Not that I’d ask her to clean up after you. Especially not on a day as unpleasant as today.”

“Unpleasant?” Maggie sounded confused bordering on offended. “I thought ‘tis rather lovely.” Spoken like a true creature of Eire.

Disregarding that as if Maggie hadn’t spoken, Evie shared her most recent thought on the matter. “How about if I just send it to never, never land?”

I cocked my head, curiosity piqued. “There’s really a never, never land?”

“It’s a euphemism for a place you never want to know about,” she said.

“I’ll tell you about it!” Maggie said proudly.

“NO!!!” Evie and I both said in unison confirming that my kid knows me just about as well as I know myself. If Evie thinks I don’t want to know about never, never land, who am I to disagree?

“Keep your knickers up.” Maggie was undaunted. “If we’re takin’ a vote, I’m with Evie on the matter of blue-eyed crows. Ever up to no good they be. Vilest of little snitches. No principles whatsoever.” She leaned in and whispered. “And I heard they carry lyme disease.”

Evie giggled at the absurdity of that. Maggie could be entertaining in her own way. The fact that she didn’t intend to be just added to the amusement factor.

“Snitches?” I asked Maggie to clarify. “You mean spies?”

“Aye. Spies,” she said. “Good for nothin’. Goes for who sent ‘em as well.”

“I suspect we know who that would be,” said Lochlan. “And, naturally, Margaret would object.” With no segue whatsoever, he added, “Chocolate scones, you said?”

Naturally Margaret would object?

“What do you mean?” I asked the elf who was my court clerk, lane neighbor, and hike buddy.

“Forgive me if I wasn’t clear. I meant to say that I’d happily accept the hospitality offered in the form of a chocolate scone.”

“Oh. Well, yes, of course there’s a scone with your name on it, Lochlan. At least I think there is. I meant what’s the meaning of your remark about Maggie naturally objecting to the crow?”

Maggie stepped back, crossed her arms in front of her, and glared at Lochlan, daring him to say whatever it was they knew and I didn’t.

Lochlan cleared his throat. If I had to guess what he was thinking, he looked like a person who regretted having opened a can of worms. He was trying to figure out how to put the worms back in the can and erase his words from our memory.

Good luck with that.

“I meant only that the Banshee tribe and the Morrigan have, in a sense, been rivals since… Since the very creation of Ireland, I suppose.”

Ohhhhhh.

“Humph,” said the banshee who ran The Hallows, my antique shop.

Gods only knew I couldn’t manage without either her or Lochlan. Those two kept me afloat. Safe and sound in the lifeboat. At least until now. In exchange for what I got, I could certainly put up with a few shenanigans. But we were in the process of setting a record for how long it might take four people to walk the short distance from front door to kitchen hearth.

Maggie headed straight for the kitchen sink and began waving her arms. “SHOO! SHOO! You blackhearted little bugger.”

The bird did a little birdy head jerking thing, flapped his wings, and cawed at Maggie with intense acrimony. What he did not do was show any sign of giving ground. Perhaps turning Evie loose on it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Bird guts on the window wouldn’t be much worse than being surveilled by a hostile raven.

Okay. I take that back. Bird guts on the window might be worse, but it still might be a good trade.

As though she could read my thoughts, Maggie said, “Vile and belligerent. Let the queen send it to never, never land. Time for a show of force if ye ask me.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but I’m not asking you, Maggie.” I talk big, but as I turned to Evie, I found myself asking, “Can you do that?”

“What?”

“Send it to never, never land and leave us with a sparkling clean kitchen window?”

Evie shrugged. “Sure. As long as you understand there’s no reason to think another won’t take his place shortly.”

“Then why did you offer?”

“Hadn’t thought it through.”

I took a deep breath. The day was testing my determination to work on patience.

“Well. Just for the duration of enjoying scones with friends, could you cover the window with something delightful? Maybe a view of the Aegean Sea from Santorini?” I’d never divulge to anyone that my kidnapping by Loki hadn’t been as unpleasant as I’d let them believe. Of course I was not in any way interested in a tryst with Loki, but the scenery on that terrace was branded in my memory. I could love living in Hallow Hill and also imagine a Mediterranean change of scenery from time to time.

The way Evie smiled was unnerving. Like she knew what I was thinking.

“Sure,” she said. Lifting her Starbucks with hand, she flicked a finger of the toward the south wall.

Instantly, the window was replaced. Not with a static photo resembling a poster. The view out the window was so realistic, a casual observer would guess we were high above the dark blue water on a day that was sunny, but also windy enough to see white caps forming and disappearing among the waves. It had hypnotic potential. The most masterful touch, though, was the connection between the visual and the sounds of actual Hallow Hill wind outside.

 

 

So you may be wondering what had my household in such a tizzy. Or you may be thinking, “What’s new? Something is always afoot in Hallow Hill.”

You’re probably right. Nonetheless, there is a tale. And this is where it begins…

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