Iron Master – Jennifer Ashley Page 0,23

like this,” she confided to the tree. “She’s proud he runs off to fight for what he believes in and to help others stay alive, but at the same time, she wants to hold on to him and pray he isn’t taken from her.”

Another rustle, and then the wind died, bringing silence.

“And I’m talking to a tree.” Peigi rubbed her hair. “I am so sleep deprived. And seriously need caffeine.”

She hurried up the path and into the house, exhaling in relief when she burst inside to the strong scent of coffee wafting down from upstairs.

After a breakfast of three different kinds of pancakes, tasty omelets from Dimitri, a platter of toast courtesy of Jaycee, and several cups of rich coffee, Peigi felt much better. Shifters could put away food, so the pantry’s stores were depleted by the time they finished.

Once they’d cleaned up the breakfast detritus, Dimitri led them downstairs to a small parlor and pointed to a wall. “Here is where the door was.”

Peigi stared at the nicely paneled and papered wall, no doors in sight. A breeze rustled outside the open window, the rose vines creaking.

Stuart ran his fingers over the wall where a door frame would have been. He leaned to the paneling and put his ear to it.

“Hear anything?” Dimitri asked.

“Just you.” Stuart closed his eyes, pressing his cheek to the paneling. He touched the wall with gentle but strong fingers.

Peigi held her breath, watching Stuart absently stroke the paneling, all his concentration on what might lie behind it. She couldn’t stop herself imagining how she’d feel with Stuart’s strong fingers on her, she the subject of that intense attention.

Another breeze drifted through, making her shiver.

“Who opened the windows?” Peigi whispered. “It’s cold.”

Dimitri and Jaycee started. From their expressions, they thought she’d opened them.

Having a house do what it wanted could be inconvenient, Peigi decided, though she admitted the distraction had stopped her from gazing at Stuart and drooling. She moved to the long window and closed it, shutting out the wind. The gnarled tree was visible from this room, standing guard over the end of the path.

Stuart opened his eyes and straightened up. “The house probably likes to open and close its own windows. Maybe it needs to breathe.”

“You do like escalating the creep factor,” Peigi said. “Can you tell if there’s a door there? Or a gate, or whatever?”

Stuart touched the paneling. “If there was a way through, it’s gone.”

“It closed up and vanished after a Fae tried to get in and kill us,” Jaycee said. “Or maybe Lady Aisling shut it down. I don’t really know.”

“We weren’t paying much attention at the time.” Dimitri slid his arm around Jaycee and slanted her a knowing look.

“You had mating on your mind, yes.” Jaycee leaned into him. “All right, I admit, I was pretty far gone on mating frenzy at the time too.” Her smile held satisfaction and not one bit of embarrassment. “I wonder if Lady Aisling could help get Stuart through? If she closed the door, she might be able to open it. There’s an old sundial on the other side …”

“Lady Aisling told you to summon her only in time of dire emergency, remember,” Dimitri said. “Would she consider this a dire emergency?”

Stuart leaned on the paneling again, touching it with light fingers. “The Tuil Erdannan deemed the Shifter-Fae war a ten-minute distraction, like watching ants battle over a leaf. I doubt this Lady Aisling would lift a finger to keep the hoch alfar away from the dokk alfar. They never have before.” The grim note in his voice reminded Peigi that his clan had been wiped out by the high Fae, with no one charging in to help them.

“Ben told us the Tuil Erdannan created the dokk alfar,” Jaycee said. “Or at least that was a rumor. Did they?”

Stuart shrugged. “No idea. It’s not one of our creation stories. But we were first in Faerie, long before the hoch alfar appeared. That’s historic record.”

“We need Ben’s take on this,” Jaycee said. “He’s been living in the house a while. I bet he’s figured out a lot of its secrets.”

“But where the hell is he?” Dimitri growled. “I’ve been trying to call him.”

“So have I,” Stuart said. “I keep getting voice mail.”

Peigi had turned to the window while they debated, taking in the bright mid-morning. More wind sprang up, fluttering the dried branches on the old tree, as though the tree itself were moving.

Peigi’s jaw went slack. The tree was moving. Its