You Let Me In - Camilla Bruce Page 0,23

ice cream, a droplet of pink on his chin.

I shrugged, finally falling into that soft playfulness, that sweet, sweet prelude to love.

Tommy looked at me, still smiling. “Challenge accepted,” he laughed, and winked.

“It might not be pretty,” I warned him, having caught sight of Gwen, a golden furred faerie I knew, by the ice cream parlor’s counter. She was looking straight at me, shaking her head while her white-tipped tail swept the floor behind her.

“I am used to hard bargains,” said Tommy Tipp, crumpling the paper napkin in his hand. “No doubt you know all about me already.”

“Only what they say, and they do say a lot of things.”

He laughed at that, tussled his hair with strong fingers. “They don’t know the half of it, and what they do know, they got wrong.”

“Tell me, then,” I urged him, found myself increasingly taken with his eyes. They were the bluest blue I had ever seen. All kinds of light lived in there.

Gwen was approaching me while we spoke. When she was close enough, she bent down and whispered in my ear, “Don’t be a fool, little Cassie. Your husband will not stand for it.” I felt confused then, for a moment. Pepper-Man was not my husband, was he? I decided to ignore Gwen, although it was hard; she smelt like the fox she fed from, a rank odor of fur and wilderness, mixed with a hint of old blood.

“I wanted a different life, you know,” Tommy Tipp told me across the table. “I just wanted adventure, a life that was a little more unpredictable than the one my parents had.”

“Crime can certainly be exciting,” I agreed. “Or so I suspect, anyway.”

“You have never done anything wrong, have you, Cassie?”

“Oh, God, I can’t do anything right.”

“Wrong in the eyes of the law, I mean.”

“No, no … I don’t think so.”

Gwen placed a paw at the nape of my neck, pressed hard enough that I could feel her black claws digging into my skin. “What about your treasure at the mound, Cassie? What about your family?”

I pulled away from her hand, but my head snapped toward the faerie. “He won’t mind,” I told her. “He won’t mind at all. He only wants what is best for me.” I had forgotten to speak silently in my head. I forgot that all the time, but wished I hadn’t done it then.

“What? Did you speak to your invisible friend?” Tommy was amused, his eyes were wide with wonder. “Did you do that just now? Did you speak to him?”

“It isn’t him, it’s a she,” I admitted. “And she doesn’t want me to talk to you.” I shot Gwen a furious look. Go away, I told her silently. Go away.

“Why?” Tommy’s gaze searched the air where Gwen was standing.

“She thinks he’ll be upset—but he won’t.” At least I hoped he wouldn’t. Pepper-Man didn’t always do what I thought he would.

“You don’t seem so sure.” A smile tugged at Tommy’s lips. “What do you think he’d do if I kissed you?”

“Nothing, probably. But he can be unpleasant.” I flinched as Gwen pinched me.

“You should not talk of him like that,” she said, and I shivered a little, because Gwen was usually so nice to me.

“Unpleasant how?” asked Tommy Tipp.

“It doesn’t matter, because he won’t be,” I decided. Surely, Pepper-Man would only be thrilled if I found a nice young man to keep me company. He was my best friend, after all—my only champion in this world.

“We ought to find out,” said Tommy.

When we left the ice cream parlor that day, Tommy Tipp held my hand in his as we walked down the pier. There was a flutter in my heart that I’d never known before. His skin was so soft and so warm, his crooked smile, which had seemed so ordinary just hours before, was as if enchanted. Suddenly I could see its dazzling qualities just as clearly as any of his housewives. He truly was magnificent, I thought, stealing glimpses of him from the crook of my eyes. Truly, very handsome.

And he hadn’t laughed at me at all—not like that, cruel and mocking. His peals of laughter had been soft and carefree, and he really did seem to want to know about the faeries, kept asking me about them as we approached the town center.

“How often do you see your invisible friends?”

“Not very often,” I lied. “A few times a week, perhaps.” I didn’t want to overwhelm him. It felt too fragile, that tender bond we were