“I feel you. I can’t seem to find a comfortable position. Derek has been the best. He sets up all my pillows for me to prop up my arms. Your schedule will burn you out, woman. It has to be affecting your sex life.”
I shrug. “Can’t do much about it for now. I have to finish my degree. I’m in the home stretch.”
“True, but you don’t have to spend every free moment with Seamus. You’re playing with fire there. And you know it.” She crinkles her brow.
“He may have feelings for me, but he hasn’t acted on them. Nothing will ever happen. He knows I love Archie.”
“Sure, but spending so much time with him doesn’t help the situation.”
“He’s the Irish folklore expert. I don’t have a choice.”
She scowls at me. “You always have choices. The question is…are you making the right ones?”
“Holy crystals. I almost forgot. Guess who stopped by the store today?”
“Please, don’t tax my sleep-deprived brain or my patience. Who?”
“Courtney Davies,” I say with a blank stare.
My best friend gapes at me. “What the fuck?”
“Exactly my thoughts when I popped up from behind the counter. But she’s married now. Her last name is Erickson.”
“Wait. She’s married to that young new council member? She had some nerve showing up at the store to talk to you. What did she want?”
“Yeah, they’ve been married for about a year. She was pleasant. Apologized for how she acted in the past. She seemed sincere.”
“Sure, and I’m the queen of the Otherworld,” she says, rubbing her back. “She could have grown up. Even a bad witch can redeem herself, but I need more proof than a single apology.”
When we arrive at Mitchell Hall, the sun has dipped in the sky, casting a pink hue over the Celestial Gardens. It’s serene and calming—just what the doctor ordered. A young woman in her 20s with dirty-blond hair pushes a baby in a stroller, stopping to snap pictures. She notices us and waves. Ronnie grins when the mother leans over to pamper her little one. My best friend will spoil her precious one by Yule, too.
We meander around the fairy water fountains and ornamental boxwood hedges protecting the roses of yellow, pink, red, and black. An earthy smell pervades the area, nearly masking the fragrance of the exquisite flowers. Rose and Alistair Mitchell would be proud of the refurbishment of their gardens. Although they wouldn’t be too happy about us destroying their precious hawthorn tree.
I stare at the young plant in the right corner, recalling Ronnie’s limp body hanging in the clutches of the Sluagh. The white strip of hair triggered by the trauma of the event snakes through her crimson curls. She slaps my arm.
“Why did you do that?”
“You know why,” she says, squinting. “Don’t beat yourself up every time you get a glimpse of that tree. Look at me. I’m healthy and having a baby.” She rubs her belly, grinning.
I lay my hand on her tummy, and the future witch kicks back. “I’m so happy for you. Is Derek excited?”
“Are you kidding? He lays his head on his restless offspring every night. Talks to the peanut about all the plans he has. He has Wiggles scheduled through high school.”
“I bet. He’ll be a wonderful father. You found a good one, Ronnie.”
“I sure did. That reminds me, he asked me to send a text when I got here. He’s going to start dinner.” After typing into her phone, she glances back at the young mother, who continues to take pictures with her cell, ignoring her baby in the stroller. “I wish she would leave. It’s almost dark. I’d love to say hello to Shailagh and Aonghas.”
“You actually miss them?” I ask.
“Yes, the Seelie Fae are mischievous, but they’re so sweet.”
“Please, don’t develop any ideas about adopting them.”
“No way,” she says, cackling. “One baby witch will be plenty to keep me busy.”
I check the time on my cell phone. It’s almost 6:30 p.m. “You should get home. She’s not leaving anytime soon, and you need to eat.”
“Well, fuck,” she says loudly. “I’ll have to come back later.”
The young mom whips her head around, scowling in disgust.
“You know…you may want to curb the F bomb usage in a couple of years. Kids repeat everything you say.”
“Yeah. A lot’s gonna change after this baby is born.” She angles her head toward the woman and shouts, “But for now, let the fucks flow!”
I laugh out loud, and the young mother grimaces at me. Like she’s so responsible—taking photos on the other side of the gardens while her baby sleeps unattended.
“Let’s go,” Ronnie says, yawning. “I don’t know how I’m gonna stay awake long enough to eat.”
“I’d say drink some of your death coffee, but that’s probably not a good idea.”
She grabs a lump pushing out the material of her maternity T-shirt. “The little gymnast doesn’t lie still now. Coffee would send Wiggles into somersaults.”
As we head toward the iron gate, my innards tighten, and an aura overcomes me, spreading throughout my body—all the way to my fingertips. It’s not a hot flash, because I’m not sweating. Plus, I’ve not had one for a couple of months. I glance back at the hawthorn tree where the young mother stands, taking more pictures with her phone. When I turn around, I glimpse a faint movement at the mound.
I scan the back of the Celestial Gardens, darkening with the setting sun. The wind swirls, carrying a clump of dried leaves, and dumps them on the top of the grassy mound. I shiver from the sudden blast of chilly air and zip up my fleece jacket to my neck. The stroller with the woman’s sleeping baby rests in front of the portal. Did Shailagh and Aonghas sneak through the opening? It’s not dark enough yet for them to cross over. If they did, I’ll have to share the rules with them again—not that they’ll listen.
“What are you looking at?” Ronnie asks, stopping abruptly.
