“I already asked him,” I said, my heart hammering.

Hunter blew out his breath and grinned. His eyes danced with emerald green light. “Great minds…” he said, and bent to kiss me. Just then the bathroom door swung open and a cloud of steam floated out.

“Whoops,” Bree said.

Hunter and I pulled apart. “Robbie,” I called, grateful for the steam that hid my red cheeks. “The bathroom’s yours.”

An hour later we were all tucked in. I was too excited to even consider sleep. Periodically I extended my senses, identifying the patterns of the people in the apartment. Bree was sleeping, and so were Raven and Sky. Hunter and Robbie were both wide awake.

Finally it was one A.M. Moving quietly so as not to wake Bree and Raven, I made my way out of the guest room. In the living room a single candle flickered. Hunter and Robbie were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, waiting for me.

“Bree,” Robbie whispered. “Is she—”

“Asleep,” I told him. “Be careful you don’t startle her. Any sign of Mr. Warren?”

Hunter shook his head. “Not yet.”

I was keenly aware of his being just a few feet from me. My heart began to beat faster, and that funny anticipation feeling—that mix of pleasure with just a thread of uncertainty—began to hum through me. I waited till Robbie had gone, and then I sat beside Hunter.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he said. He reached out and closed one hand over mine. “I thought you might fall asleep.”

“Almost did,” I teased.

“Did you really?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted, suddenly feeling vulnerable and unsure. It occurred to me again that Hunter had never told me he loved me, though I’d told him I loved him. Was it just a guy thing, not being able to say the words? Or did he not feel the same way? Hunter was honest to a fault, and I was certain that he cared about me. But maybe it wasn’t love, and that’s why he’d never said the words. Could Bree be right about love? Maybe Hunter was about to break my heart and hand it back to me in little pieces.

Maybe I shouldn’t be here now, I thought, feeling a tickle of panic. Maybe I should just go back to my own bed, not get close to anything I can’t handle.

Then Hunter turned over my hand and began to gently stroke the underside of my arm. His touch sent shivers of delight racing through me.

“You were like a vision, you know,” he said, his voice soft and low. “Standing there in the hall in that innocent gown, your hair shining, holding a toothbrush of all things. I just wanted to run away with you.”

“Really?” I whispered. “Where to?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t think it through that far.” He brushed back a strand of hair from my face. “You know, I never had second thoughts about becoming a Seeker. It seemed necessary, fated. But lately…” His voice trailed off on a note of longing.

“Lately what?”

“I wish there were a way to take a break from it. I wish I could just steal away with you for a while.”

My heart was pounding like a drum. I fought desperately to keep things grounded, realistic. “My parents probably wouldn’t be too keen on that idea,” I said.

“Right. Parents,” he said. “They probably wouldn’t approve of this, either.” He bent forward and kissed the side of my neck.

Chills raced through me. The energy flowing between us felt so strong and right and good. I didn’t want to walk away from it. Not anymore. Gently I lifted his head so that I could put my mouth on his. He wrapped his arms around me.

At first our kisses were soft, searching, as if we were just getting to know each other. Hunter’s hands slid along my nightgown, caressing my waist, my side. Every inch of my body was alight with desire. Everything in me streamed toward Hunter. I slid my hand under his shirt, felt the smooth skin of his chest over a hard sheath of muscle. Gently he pushed me backward so we were lying on the foldout bed. He pulled back for a moment, and I saw his face in the light from the window, intent as always. But now, this time, he was totally focused on me. His lips came down on mine again, harder now, more urgent.

Then, without warning, Hunter broke away.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, breathless.

“Don’t you sense him?”

And then I did. It was Mr. Warren, coming down the hall.

“He can’t!” I groaned. “It’s not fair.”

“But he is.” Hunter held me close with one arm. He ran his other hand along my face and kissed me gently. “We’d better call it a night.”

“No! Can’t we do a spell to make him think he’s dropped his keys and has to go back down to the garage, or—”

Hunter swatted at me lightly. “You know better. Come on, now. Go give Bree and Robbie some warning.”

I got up with a groan. I could hear Mr. Warren’s footsteps coming down the hallway. “Okay.” I leaned forward and gave Hunter one last kiss. “To be continued,” I promised.

July 16, 1981

We’ve been in Ballynigel less than twenty-four hours, and everything has changed. I know now why I kept dreaming of this place, why I’ve felt drawn back here, as though there were an invisible string connecting it to my heart.

I first saw Maeve Riordan yesterday. She was not among those who welcomed our boat. She was off gathering moss for a poultice and didn’t come back into the village until we were in a meeting with Belwicket’s elders. We were in the house of Mackenna, their high priestess, beginning to ask those questions whose answers would determine Belwicket’s fate, though they didn’t realize it, poor sods. And in walks Mackenna’s daughter, a girl of nineteen with a mud-streaked skirt and a basket overflowing with drippy moss.

I had the strangest sensation that I’d waited twenty-two years to see her. It was as though my life were slightly unreal until that moment. She seemed fey—a luminous creature—and at the same time utterly familiar, as if I’d known and loved her my whole life.

Everything about Maeve enchants me. The light that dances in her eyes, the rhythm of her speech, the sound of her laughter, the grace of her hands, and, of course, the magick that sparkles around her. She has a great deal of raw power—as much as Selene, I think. Selene was a different package, though. She’d been honing her magick for years, had studied, sacrificed, undergone a Great Trial, even. In Maeve it’s simply a matter of her birthright. She takes it for granted, doesn’t yet realize how much power courses through her.

Of course, there is the matter of Belwicket having forsworn the old Woodbane ways. Still, I’m certain we’ll get past that. She feels the same way about me that I do about her—I can see it in her eyes. I will show Maeve how to realize her true power. I’ll convince her that my way is the right one.

So this is what love feels like, the love that lasts for all time. When it happens, there are no questions, no doubts. I know that now. And I know the dress on the line…it can only have been hers.

— Neimhidh

Friday morning, I woke to unfamiliar sounds filtering through the guest room door—Mr. Warren making coffee while having a heated phone conversation about depositions.

On the mattress next to me Bree stretched and opened her eyes. “Sleep well?” she asked with a drowsy smile.

I blushed. “Yeah. How about you?”

She shrugged. “Fine,” she said in a neutral voice.

Raven’s eyes shot open, ringed with black eye makeup she hadn’t washed off. “What time is it?” she demanded.

“Just after nine-thirty,” Bree answered. “We should get moving. I want to go to Diva’s this morning. It’s in SoHo. You guys should come, too—they’ve got great clothes, and they’re really cheap.”

I could feel that Hunter and Sky weren’t in the apartment; they must have already left for their meeting with the mysterious contact Hunter had met last night. “Uh—okay,” I agreed. Maybe I could find an outfit that was slightly more appropriate for the city.