on, what have ye got here?” Niamh inspected the inside of the sandwich. “What is this, mustard?” She dropped the bread and leaned back. “Thank ye, no. I will not be poisoned. I’ll be getting back.”
“If only I’d known getting you to leave was as easy as making a good sandwich,” Mr. Tom said.
“It’s actually as easy as pushing your company on me.” She headed toward the door. Before she went through, she turned back to me. “You told yer date that you’d meet him at the bar, right? So’s I could meet him?”
My stomach flip-flopped again. “I just said we’d meet for a few beers to get to know each other. He’s coming from a town over, so it’s just an informal meetup. I thought that was—”
Niamh nodded, waved me away, and disappeared into the hall.
“—best for my first time out of the gate,” I finished before bending to my sandwich.
“Don’t mind her, Jessie, she is a little rough on etiquette. She’s out of practice.” Edgar smiled at me, gliding to the table. He replaced the bread slice over the turkey, left off the vegetables, and headed for the door. “I’ll just take this in case those trespassers are awake. They’ll probably stick around if I offer them a refreshment.”
Stick around? They were likely trapped in his cottage somewhere. I doubted a sandwich would erase the sting of having been transported to a stranger’s house without their knowledge. At least it wasn’t a cave, but still.
Mr. Tom shook his head sadly as Edgar left the room. “He means well.” He presented his hand, at the end of which, resting on his bare fingers, hung a limp slice of Swiss cheese. “Niamh isn’t the only one out of practice. He used to be an excellent hunter. Now he’s… Well, Niamh will probably have to return to the dating site for him. I’d forgotten she used to do that.” He bent to look at the computer. “Or maybe they can just use your throwaways.” After a moment, he shook the cheese at me. “Well? Here. I forgot the cheese. Just tuck that right in there.”
No matter how long I was here, things never quite bent toward normal.
I checked myself in the mirror before heading down to the front door. My little black clutch matched my little black dress, which fit much better than I remembered. I’d done my version of a smoky eye, which really just looked like dark eye shadow and ill-placed liner, paired with nude lips and only a touch of blush. My shoes were flat, because I planned to walk and honestly couldn’t be bothered with a heel. There was only so far I was willing to go for fashion. Stilts had not made the cut.
Hair messier than I’d like, I put on a shawl (for appearances; I could have been perfectly warm naked in the middle of winter) and set out down the stairs.
“Miss.” Mr. Tom met me there, his tux wrinkle-free, his wings hanging down his back like a cape, and his expression still perturbed because I’d unintentionally called in reinforcements (add that to the grievance of not granting him the appearance of youth, and a real list was forming). “Shall you be requiring refreshments this evening?”
He always asked me this when I went out, but this time, I discerned a tone.
“No. It’s just a meetup. I won’t be bringing him back with me, Mr. Tom.”
“Whether you do or do not is no business of mine. If you do, however, you must remain cautious. Just because you can no longer contract diseases doesn’t mean you will not get pregnant. You are not too old to conceive.”
My mind stutter-stopped. “What do you mean I can’t contract diseases?”
“Magic. It cleanses the blood, in a way. You can’t get diseases of any kind. You won’t get cancer, you won’t get…whatever else Dicks and Janes contract with their weak immune systems.”
“But…Niamh said she lost one of her breasts because of breast cancer. You know, before Ivy House magic brought it back.”
He gave me a long-suffering look, which he seemed to reserve for discussions with or about Niamh. “She was not being honest. She lost it in the Battle of Five Spades. The enemy pierced her armor, and the golden sword tip lodged in her breast—gold is to her kind what silver is to shifters. Lethal. Losing her mammary gland saved her life. She lopped it right off, I’ve heard. After killing the enemy, of course. She never mourned its absence.