Witching Time (The Wild Hunt #14) - Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,5
brought misfortune to others, and so he had become a recluse. When Phasmoria, my mother, left me with him, he kept me entranced with stories and tales, but he never went out, always paying one of the Ante-Fae who lived nearby to take me on outings. PoppyJill acted as my nanny for a long time, until I could fend for myself.
As I stared at the brilliant colors in the produce section, I remembered that my father had a fondness for strawberry shortcake, so I loaded up the cart with sponge cake and the last strawberries of the season and whipped cream. I decided to make eggplant parmesan for dinner, and then added breakfast foods, sandwich fixings, ice cream, chips, and just about anything that I could think of that he might like. Finally, I added some cat food as a treat for Raj. I was just rounding the aisle, heading toward the checkout stand, when I heard a familiar voice.
“Raven? Raven!”
I stopped and turned to see my neighbor Trefoil standing there, looking at his cart with a forlorn expression.
“Hey, I see we both had the same idea.” I liked Trefoil and his sister Meadow. My across-the-street neighbors, they worked for LOCK—the Library of Cryptic Knowledge—as investigators, though they were more involved with the paramilitary side of things. The pair were as Irish as they came, and they were part of the magic-born.
“Yeah, except I have no clue what I’m doing. Meadow asked me to shop for a party we’re having a week from Sunday, but she didn’t say what to get. By the way, you and Kipa are invited. We’d love it if you came.” He flashed me a dazzling smile, his teeth so white they hurt my eyes.
I pulled my phone out of my purse and brought up the calendar. “A week from Sunday…what time?”
“Seven-thirty.” He glanced at my cart. “Stocking up?”
“My father’s coming in tonight for a visit,” I said, tapping in the information. “I’ll be there. I’m pretty sure Kipa can make it, too.”
“Bring your father if you like,” Trefoil said.
I shook my head, glancing up at him. “My father’s one of the Black Dogs. Trust me, you do not want to meet him. He would refuse, anyway. He’s very cautious about meeting people because…” I wasn’t sure how much Trefoil knew about the Black Dogs, but he merely gave me a nod.
“I understand. Humans, magic-born, and Fae alike have to be cautious around them. Where’s he from? Is he from overseas?”
“Originally from Scotland, but he moved to Connecticut when he was young. He’s the Black Dog of Hanging Hills. Anyway,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone, “I’d better get moving. Here’s an idea—start with chips, dips, veggie trays, deli meats, crackers, fruit platters, cookies, pastries or maybe a cake, wine, sparkling water, and go from there. You can’t go wrong with finger foods.”
“Thanks,” he said, looking grateful. “I promised Meadow I’d take care of the buffet and then I just blanked. We don’t entertain much.”
I waved and pushed my cart around his, heading toward the checkout line so the cashier could ring me up.
As I waited in line, I wondered who would be at their party. LOCK members, probably. The magic-born made me a little nervous, and most of the LOCK members were skilled in their arts. But this seemed like a good chance to network and make connections. And given what was happening with Typhon, we would all need connections in the days to come.
As I opened the door, warily—I was always wary when I came home after being gone for more than an hour any more—a shimmer of light flickered over me. The wards were scanning me to see if they recognized me. I quickly punched in the security code on the actual alarm system, and then placed my hand on the selenite tablet near the Mother-Quartz that sat on the foyer table. With both magical and technical systems appeased, I carried the groceries into the kitchen.
Raj bounced off the couch and into the kitchen, his head bobbing as he watched me. “Raven’s home!”
“Yes, Raj, Raven is home. What did Raj do while Raven was—” I stopped, my nose twitching. Raj had a natural scent that was a little musky, but now he smelled like the inside of a perfume bottle. “Raj?”
He froze, then sat down, eyeing me with that sad puppy-dog look that told me he had gotten himself into something he shouldn’t have.