someone was gardening. A man with shaggy blond hair walked by, carrying a rake over one broad shoulder.
A woman stood cooking at a clunky, ancient gas stove, her back turned to Molly. Graying hair tumbled down her back. She had a round, comfortable figure, and she wore an old flowered housecoat.
“You’re a noisy one,” the woman said. Her rich, warm voice washed over Molly’s shattered nerves like a soothing balm. “Woke me out of a sound sleep, you did. I thought since I was awake, I might as well scramble a few eggs.”
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Molly said. “I don’t know how I got here.”
“No? Well, don’t fret about it,” said the woman. “When are you coming to see me?”
“I don’t know that either. I don’t know who you are or where this is. Or, for that matter, what I’m doing here.”
As Molly looked around, she realized she was sitting on a tall stool at a large butcher-block table in the middle of the kitchen. She was wearing the T-shirt she had worn to bed, and her legs were bare. Embarrassed, feeling exposed, she hooked her heels on the edge of her chair and tucked her knees under the shirt.
“Don’t fret about that either,” the woman said. She turned off the stove, stepped away from an iron skillet, and bent over an old stone bowl. “It will come clear with time. Ah yes, I think this spell is about ready now.”
“Excuse me, you didn’t just say spell, did you?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Now I know I’m dreaming,” Molly muttered. She didn’t know anybody who could cast spells. She had met a few nonhumans over the years, but for the most part the worlds of the Elder Races and their demesnes were a reality that existed far away from her life.
The woman took something out of the bowl. Molly could smell a mixture of lavender and lemon along with a sharp, spicier scent she couldn’t identify. Then, as the woman turned to face Molly, she brought her open palm up to her mouth and blew.
Molly caught a glimpse of dark, powerful eyes. Before she could get a good look at the woman’s face, a cloud of spice and energy enveloped her.
The woman said, “Find me.”
Then the woman, along with the kitchen, faded away, and she slept deep and dreamlessly for the rest of the night.
* * *
“Molly! What on earth are you doing?”
On Saturday, a swirl of Dior perfume wafted over the table as Julia Oliver threw herself into the seat opposite Molly. She was shorter than Molly, and petite, delicately rounded at breast and hip, with dark, curly hair tumbling down her back. Outside the restaurant, bright spring sunlight danced along the sidewalks.
“I’m reading the list of today’s lunch specials,” she said with a quick glance up and a brief, preoccupied smile. “What on earth are you doing?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Julia looked up as the waitress came to the table. “I’ll have a lemon drop martini.”
Molly raised her eyebrows. So it was going to be that kind of lunch, was it? Why the hell not? She shut her menu with a snap. “I’ll have the same.”
Their waitress came back quickly with their drinks and took their lunch orders. When she had left, Julia leaned forward. “Everybody’s talking about what happened at your place on Thursday evening.”
“I’m sure they are.” She stretched her neck from side to side to ease the tension in her muscles. She didn’t want to be having lunch with Julia, but the woman had been her best friend for the past five years, and Molly didn’t feel right not talking to her.
Julia’s gaze was lit with scandalized horror. “Did you really drop some other woman’s panties into Austin’s drink?”
“Yes.”
Julia looked down at her drink, touched the sugared rim, and delicately licked the tip of her finger. “Do you know who the other woman is?”
Molly shook her head. “No, although I’m guessing I’ve met her at some point. You know how actively we’ve been entertaining.”
“And after you confronted him, you just walked out?”
“Yes,” she said again. She took a gulp of her drink. Ah, alcohol.
“I wish Drew hadn’t been so sick. If I could have, I would have been there for you.”
“You couldn’t very well leave your five-year-old with a babysitter when he was running a 102-degree temperature,” she pointed out. “And besides, it’s not like I planned any of it. It just happened.”
“Well, I still wish I