were works of art. A fireplace big enough for a castle occupied one wall with shelf units bracing either side. A stunning copy of Van Gogh’s The Starry Night hung above.
“That’s my favorite painting,” I said. “It’s the best recreation I’ve ever seen.”
Standing just outside the open door, Maeve scoffed and adopted her snootiest tone to say, “It’s not a copy.”
My head swiveled from her to the painting. “It must be. The original is hanging in the Museum of Modern Art in New York.”
Maeve looked at her nails as if she was bored. “No. It’s not. Now you have the original. They have the copy. The differences are undetectable by humans.” Her inflection punctuated how much she despised humans, which frankly, made me uncomfortable. I was glad when she turned and walked back to the gate to wait.
“That painting suits you,” Keir said. “It could be our little town on a clear night. It’s as close to magical as…”
“Go on. You were going to say as close to magical as humans get. Do you have your, um, Maeve’s prejudices? About humans?”
“It’s not a prejudice to say we’re magical and humans are not. It’s just a fact. With the single exception of you. Because you’re becoming a form of hybrid. I was trying to say that magic kind couldn’t do better than that.” He pointed to the painting. “Maybe we never have.”
Choosing to accept that carefully worded explanation, I said, “I haven’t seen art done by magic kind, unless you count Tregeagle, but I’m looking forward to it.”
“Someday you’ll be invited into the faerie mound that’s closest to Hallow Hill. The one at Tregeagle.”
I nodded, then proceeded through the house slowly, hunting for anything I might want tweaked while admiring everything I saw to the last detail. I understood the concept of speak now or forever hold your peace. But everything was perfection.
My study was off the living room to the right. It was exactly the kind of place I’d imagined myself pouring over briefs and making decisions that would save the fae from themselves. I noticed some of my favorite books on the shelves along with some of my favorite framed photos.
Lochlan excused himself for a moment. When he returned, he went straight to a section of bookcase, and removed three books at eye level. That revealed an electronic pad.
“The safe, Magistrate,” he said and nodded toward me. “It has a new code that only you know.”
A code that only I know?
I thought about my most obscure six-digit password, typed it in and nothing. Nineteen tries later, when I was almost out of ideas, I tried the month and year of my first kiss. Glory be, the tumblers rumbled, the locks slid, and the bookcase opened out into the room. Inside was a space somewhat larger than my former safe. All of the journals had been moved and were in place. The dark blue velvet tome sat on a rosewood podium in the center, spotlighted from above. Dramatic flair aside, it was perfect. The study had a large black baroque desk with gold accents, identical to one I’d once seen in an antique store. I’d even gone so far as to close one eye and squint the other while reaching for the dangling price tag. $27,500. I’d sighed as I dropped the tag thinking nothing was more certain in life than that I’d never see that desk again. Yet here it was in all its seventeenth-century French glory. There was also a library table with two lamps and three stacks of folders.
“Lochlan,” I said, “are those the briefs? Of the possible cases for Hallowstide?”
“They are,” he replied. “Ready for your review.”
The master bedroom was to the left. It was completely done in the palest of sage greens, so restful it elicited a sigh. The only thing that broke up the color pattern was the red-stained bed featuring four large square posts intricately carved with vines and flowering plants. As spectacular as that was, the standout focal point was the ornate, white, concrete fireplace sculpted with an Eden-like garden scene and barely clothed people. I tried to not look at Keir, but his stare was so compelling I couldn’t help myself. One peek at his smile had me blushing. People shouldn’t have to endure having their subconscious thoughts laid bare and made public. I moved on quickly.
While I appreciated the beauty of the armoires in the townhouse, the desire of my heart was a walk-in closet with an island that housed