Witching Time (The Wild Hunt #14) - Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,18

Raj any brandy,” I warned him. “He can’t handle alcohol.”

“Raj prefers soda,” Raj said, his mouth full. He sprayed bits of sloppy joe all over the floor by his tray.

“Raj, no talking with food in your mouth.” I shook my head. “You’ll make a mess.” Turning to my father, I said, “Thanks for not forcing him to eat at the table.”

“Who would do that?” Curikan asked.

“My mother,” I said, grinning.

Curikan snorted. “Ow! That hurt. I snorted meat sauce. Did Phasmoria really try to make Raj eat at the table?”

I nodded. “Yes, and it wasn’t a successful experiment. She’s stopped trying.”

We finished up, and Kipa and Curikan promised to clean the kitchen before they started their poker game.

I wasn’t planning on reading the cards at the fair tonight—I was saving that for Saturday and Sunday. Instead, I planned to shop for pumpkins, preserves, and anything else that looked good. I made sure I had plenty of cash—while most of the vendors took credit cards, it was easier to use cash—and headed toward the door.

“Raven,” Kipa called, jogging around the corner to stop me before I left. “Please be careful. Don’t take any chances and keep your phone with you at all times.” He looked worried. “I really feel like I should come with you.”

I hesitated. “Is that instinct, or just worry?” If it was a premonition, I would let him go with me. With Pandora out there, I wasn’t taking any chances.

He paused, closing his eyes. “I guess…it’s just worry. I don’t get the sense anything is going to happen, but these days, I’m always uneasy when you’re off on your own. Pandora…”

“I know all about Pandora. I’ll call you when I get there and before I head home. You have Llewellyn’s number—he’ll be there too.” I raised myself on tiptoe to kiss him. “I love you, you big lug. Have fun with Raj and my father tonight.”

“I’ll do my best,” Kipa said, then whispered, “I’d have a whole lot more fun with you.”

At that, a warmth inside me flared and I leaned in for a longer kiss. His arms felt protective around me, and just pressing against him made me want to run in the bedroom, strip down, and pull him down on top of me. But I managed to push him away.

“I’m holding you to that—a rain check? Either when I get home or tomorrow at some point?”

“Rain check it is,” he said, reluctantly letting me go. “Raven…”

“I know. I’ll be cautious and keep alert. Walk me out to the car?”

He walked me to my car. I had sold my sedan and bought a Subaru—the sedan had too much baggage attached to it because of Pandora. I gazed up into the approaching twilight. It was six-thirty, and sunset was half an hour away. The nights were getting longer, the days shorter, and everything was filtered with that golden tinge that autumn brings with it.

I locked my doors and started the ignition after wanding the car for bugs. Kipa stood in the driveway, his hand raised as I backed out onto the street and headed for the harvest fair.

Marigold and Rain lived on the outskirts of Woodinville, and thanks to traffic, by the time I arrived, it was seven-fifteen and the sun had set. But as I came around the end where 155th Place turned into 175th Street, up ahead I could see the lights glowing off to the right. Marigold and Rain had set up a pumpkin tree, with pumpkin-shaped lights threaded through the branches, and large glittering ornaments in orange, purple, and green. It was by the turn into their farm. The tree was cheerful and cozy and fun. It was then that I realized that I hadn’t been doing enough to take my mind off of the war against Typhon. We weren’t even into the thick of it, and I was already sick of it.

“Ha,” I muttered to myself. “I’m a poet.”

I followed the smoothly graveled dirt road into the heart of the farm. A large farmhouse sat to the right, and up ahead was a large barn, several outbuildings, a makeshift parking lot, and to the left stretched vibrant fields along with a corn maze. Their beehives were farther up ahead, to keep anyone from accidentally disrupting the bees, along with their chicken coops and a secondary barn.

I parked near the entrance and turned off the ignition, leaning back to watch the darkening sky for a moment. But a moment later, a tap on the driver’s