“And what if it’s you that she needs here, not Demeter?”

What am I going to say to her?

“Persephone!” Nana called.

Johnny released me and I opened the bedroom door. “Yes?”

“Telephone.”

“Take a message.”

“I tried. He insisted there was little time.”

I went out and down the stairs. “Who is it?”

Nana shrugged. “Dunno. But the walking corpse went back to the cellar,” she said as I passed her. Good.

In the kitchen I lifted the receiver to my ear wondering where my cordless was hiding. Probably between couch cushions. “Hello?”

“Is everything all right?” It was Jimmy Martin, editor for my “Waere Are You” column.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s Wednesday, your column is due, and I didn’t get it yesterday like usual.”

Oh, hell. On top of all my other worries, I still have a job. “Just polishing it up right now, Jimmy. It’ll be in your in-box in less than an hour, okay? I promise.”

I spent the next hour furiously scolding myself for forgetting about it and putting my notes together into a readable column. The only reason I got it done at all was because I was doing a series on waere parenting and this was part three. A premise and supporting notes were already compiled. Still, it was far from my best work.

It was just after four when the front door shut loudly, announcing Johnny had dropped Beverley off. He had to go work on guitars, some German order that came in, but he planned to be back at dusk to go with me and Menessos to Cleveland.

Beverley stopped at my bedroom door on her way to her own. Her book bag dragged behind her and the usual boisterous fourth-grader energy was absent. Everything about her was evidence of how tired she was. “Have a good day?”

“Yeah. I have some math to do.”

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll help, okay?” I was finishing up my packing.

“I don’t need help, I know how to do it. Why are you packing?”

“I have to go away for a few days.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“To Menessos’s.”

Sinking onto the edge of the bed, I patted the spot next to me so she’d come and sit with me. “Remember when we carved the pumpkins and had our safety talk about handling knives?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s rule number one?”

“Safety first.”

“Right.” Damn, this was hard. “See, the fairies are mad about one of them being killed—even if it was in self-defense. They’re making threats. So, in order to keep that safety rule, I’m going away to make sure you and Nana are safe.

“Just a few days?”

“I hope.”

Her fingers fidgeted, but she said nothing.

“Beverley?”

“What about my birthday? Will you be back for that?”

Shit, I’d forgotten! Her birthday was the ninth, so I had eight days. “I don’t know how all of this is going to go, so I can’t swear I will be here on your official tenth birthday, but I can promise I’ll do everything possible to be here.”

“Okay.” She played with the zipper on my suitcase. She didn’t seem convinced.

“What is it?” I prompted.

“Will we be safe here, without you?”

“Those witches put in new wards this morning, it is very safe here. But you still have to wear the necklace when you leave—”

“I won’t forget that again.”

I put my arm around her shoulder and squeezed to reassure her. “Then yes, you’ll be safe.”

Over the side of the bed, her feet swung and clunked together at the heels. “What about Johnny?”

“He’s coming with me. And there’s one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I remember how mad you got when Vivian said mean things about me, so I’m telling you now: as part of keeping you safe here, Nana is going to tell some newspeople that she’s very mad at me. She’ll probably say mean things like she never wants to see me again.” I leaned in to whisper. “But secretly, everything’s okay. She’s pretending, so everyone will think she’s mad. You have to pretend it, too, if anyone asks.”

Beverley squinted. “Why?”

“I doubt anyone will pester you over this, but if anyone besides Nana talks to you about it, just say you’re never talking to me again. If they pressure you, just say you don’t want to talk about it. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.”

“You won’t bring it up or mention it to anyone?”

“Geez. No. I didn’t talk about fairies today. Just like I said.”

“Beverley, you are amazing.” I hugged her again. “I’m going to miss you while I’m gone, kiddo.”

She squeezed me tight. “You will be back, right?”

“Count on it. And I promise you this: when it’s over, we are having the biggest party for you. Johnny will make the cake and we’ll invite all your friends from school, okay?” I made a mental note: weather permitting, find ponies for riding.

Assessing my magical supplies and what I wanted to take with me, I decided the bloodstone would be an excellent choice. Good for increasing courage and for alleviating unnecessary fear, it was also a stone of power and victory. I lifted it into my palm. The vibration was a bit weak. I had a quartz crystal that was well charged. I picked it up with my left hand. Calling energy out of it, propelling it through me, wrapping it with my need for courage, I pushed it into my right palm and charged the bloodstone. Just as I finished, Nana walked in.

“I’m going down to fix dinner.”

“Okay. You cook and Beverley and I will clean up. Deal?”

“Deal. Anything special you want?”

“Whatever” almost came out of my mouth, but I caught the shining in her eyes. She wanted to make me dinner. “Any of your colcannon left?” Nana had made her delicious, if not quite accurate, version of the mashed-potatoes-and-cabbage dish for Hallowe’en.

“Leftovers?”

“It’s your specialty. I’d love to have that before I go.”

She nodded.

“And Nana? Promise me you’ll only make the most necessary trips on the stairs?” I’d taken her scrying crystal and hidden it in a shoebox in my closet, but that didn’t heal the damage to her knees. Scrying always took a physical toll. “And promise me, no more scrying.” The look I gave her said I knew she’d used alternate means to look into the future without the crystal.

“I promise.”

She shuffled from the doorway. I added the bloodstone to the items I was packing, then retrieved the scrying crystal and packed it, too, shoebox and all. She was pushy enough she might rummage in my room while I was gone and find it. She could still scry with a glass bottle and blessed water, but I was praying she’d not be tempted.

Though mashed-potato dishes are on my list of comfort foods, my emotionally traumatized stomach couldn’t handle much for dinner. Afterward, Beverley and I cleaned up the kitchen together. Then, as I brought down my broom and my suitcase packed with magic supplies as well as clothes, Beverley carried the toiletries bag for me.

The sun would be setting in about twenty minutes. We had a little time. “Packing’s done. Homework’s done. Should we play ‘go fish’?”

“Sure! But you have to do the voices.”

“What voices?”

“Johnny never says just ‘go fish,’ he says, ‘Git yer pole ’n git down to that there yonder crick!’ ” She imitated his impression of a hick perfectly. Then she switched to British for, “Or, ‘Blimey, old chap, you need to retrieve some fish from the market.’”

Twenty minutes later, we were giggling uncontrollably at ourselves when Johnny came in, leaving the big front door open. The screen door snapped shut but let a swirl of cool autumn air follow him. “Sounds like somebody’s stealing my act.” He came to hug me. “You get that math done?” he asked her.

“Yup.”

They traded high fives.

“You ready?”

Before he could answer, Johnny’s cell phone went off like an air-raid siren. He jerked it from his pocket. “Sh—oot.” He changed his expletive for the child-safe version. Nana had once threatened to start a swear jar.