"This woman was bigtime old-school Gray Lord kind of fae." Tad laughed.
"The woman he calls his grandmother is probably more like his great, great, great .
.
.
Add a lot more `great's to the end of it.
He told me that one time, when he was a kid, she drove off a bunch of fae who were unhappy that he was so human .
.
.
or maybe that he, a human, had a touch of fae blood at all.
After that, she'd drop in now and then until she started to keep up with him just by cell phone." "So she's a good guy? You think I should talk to her? Tell her about the book and ask her where Phin is?" "I don't know if this piece has any good guys or villains, Mercy," he said.
"And I certainly don't know if the fae you saw was Phin's grandmother or a Gray Lord.
And if it was .
.
.
there's no surety that she's safe to deal with.
Fae are not human, Mercy.
Some of them could eat their own children without anger or regret.
Power motivates them more than love--if they can love.
Some of them are so alone .
.
.
You have no idea.
I'll call Dad, then get back to you." He hung up.
"Well," I asked Sam, "excitement enough for one day? Do you want to go home?" He looked up at me, and I saw that he was tired, too.
More tired than a day mostly running around in a car could account for.
Sad, I thought suddenly.
"Don't worry," I told him, bending down until my forehead was on the back of his neck.
"Don't worry, we'll find some answers for you, too." He sighed and wiggled until his muzzle was on my lap.
I drove home that way.
I MADE MEAT LOAF--SAMUEL'S RECIPE, WHICH INCLUDED plenty of jalape?os and several other peppers.