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  Unfortunately, nothing could have prepared us for what the fates had in store.

  Chapter 2

  CHLOE

  The day of the bridal shower

  * * *

  “How many relatives does your guy have anyway?” Janice Meany, my BFF and the owner of Cut & Curl, whispered in my ear. “The last time I saw this many humans in one place, you were running a BOGO sale on Wollmeise sock yarn.”

  Janice was right. My little cottage was bursting at the seams with guests, many of whom were related to Luke. I couldn’t believe such a small space could hold so many people. (And that didn’t include the ones visiting from other planes of existence.) They had spilled out into both the front and back yards and the decibel level had sent my house cats fleeing to safety under the bed.

  “They’re a fertile group,” I remarked with a shake of my head. “Gotta give them that.”

  “And nosy.” Lynette, co-owner of the Sugar Maple Arts Playhouse and my other BFF, popped up next to us. She was a shifter who usually manifested as a bright yellow canary and sometimes forgot to complete the transition.

  “Don’t mind me,” I said, patting her down. “I’m checking for feathers.”

  “You won’t find any,” she said, shooting me a look. “I swore off shifting until the wedding.”

  “Lynette’s right about them being nosy,” Janice said, her voice low. “Bunny asked me if I had any photos of your parents.”

  “Why would she do that?” I asked, my anxiety level ratcheting up another notch. If there were any photos, I would have made a zillion copies and papered my walls with them.

  “Because she’s nosy,” Lynette said. “I think it’s a human thing.”

  “Like we’re not nosy?” I shot back. “I caught Midge rummaging through my desk a few minutes ago.” Midge Stallworth and her husband George were vampires who ran the infrequently used funeral home in town. “She said she was looking for a tissue but –“

  “Did you hear yourself?” Janice said with a gleeful laugh. “You said, ‘we’re not nosy.’”

  “I think that’s the first time you didn’t automatically identify as one of them,” Lynette said.

  I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about that. Being human had been my entire identity for the first thirty years of my life. No matter how powerful my magick grew, I would never turn my back on my father’s side.

  “You know I appreciate everything you did to make this shower happen,” I said to Janice and Lynette, “but I don’t think I’ll breathe easy until after the wedding.”

  “We couldn’t manage it alone,” Janice, honest to a fault, said. “We had to beg Renate for help. There was no way we could explain why an empty inn had no vacancies.” No vacancies for humans, that is.

  We’d gotten away with it once when Laria was christened, but I don’t think we could have bluffed our way through it a second time.

  The Sugar Maple Inn was run by the Weavers, a family of Fae, who when they weren’t taking human form to deal with the occasional mortal guest, lived happily under the windowsills of the big house. The Inn was a centuries-old fixture in town, a well-known stopping place along the Spirit Trail. It boasted sixteen beautifully furnished rooms, all of which were usually occupied by time travelers in need of a break in their travels, and spirits looking for a place to meet in peace and safety.

  Spirits wander at night. (Trust me on that one.) All we needed was for one of the MacKenzie clan to wake up with a lusty pirate asleep on the next pillow.

  When Luke’s ex-wife spent one very eventful night at the Inn a few years ago, I had learned first-hand why a “No Occupancy” sign was always on when humans were afoot.

  In a surprisingly generous move, the Weavers had promised the Inn would be closed to the usual magick visitors until after the wedding and would be available only to the MacKenzie clan. She had issued a global blueflame announcement to that effect that had stirred up a bit of a buzz along the Spirit Trail.

  “You must have called in quite a few favors to get her to do that,” I said, eyeing my friends with a hint of suspicion. “Renate isn’t about to alienate her regulars unless there’s something in it for her.”

  “I don’t mean to go all Pollyanna on you, but I think she’s trying to be nice,” Lynette said.

  “I agree,” Janice, our resident cynic, chimed in. “I think she still feels guilty for siding with the opposition over moving Sugar Maple into the mist before Laria was born.”

  That had been a terrible time for all of us. The ancient bonds between us had been stretched to the breaking point as warring Fae factions tried to tear us apart over my half-human nature.

  “I owe you one,” I said, suppressing a shiver. “I’m running out of ways to keep Luke’s family from figuring us out.”

  “A good sleeping spell might help,” Lynette offered. “Wake ‘em up with a goody bag and a thanks-for-coming when it’s over.”

  Tempting but not my speed.

  At least, not yet.

  Everywhere you looked, MacKenzies and magicks mingled over the pinwheel sandwiches and cocktail shrimp. The humans were well-represented by Luke’s family but Sugar Maple was holding its own. Lilith, our town librarian, represented the Norwegian trolls, while Midge Stallworth and Verna Griggs stood up for vampires and were-folk. Even though I didn’t see her, I knew Elspeth was somewhere in the cottage. (That old waffle smell was unmistakable.) Shifters, witches, Fae from every division, they had all showed up for the occasion.

  So far everyone was on her best behavior, but it was early. There was still a lot of resistance from some quarters over my commitment to a full-blood human but with Laria’s birth, I sensed a turn-around might be in motion. I had secured a new generation of Hobbs to lead Sugar Maple and although that new generation had even more human blood than I, at only eight months of age her magick was already a wonder to behold.

  But I was on shaky ground and I knew it. Marrying Luke and welcoming his family into our lives went against centuries of fear and distrust. I could only hope that the excitement would die down after our wedding, and life in Sugar Maple would go back to what we considered normal.

  “Caution,” Janice murmured. “Human approaching.”

  I managed not to point out the obvious.

  Meghan, a glass of punch in her right hand, joined us. “Run!” she said to me, her eyes twinkling much the way Luke’s did when he was amused. “There’s still time.”

  I gestured toward the baby who was being passed from doting MacKenzie to doting MacKenzie like a cooing football. “Too late. I’m in it for life.”

  Janice and Lynette drifted away, leaving me alone with my soon-to-be sister-in-law.

  “I’m just joking,” she said, taking a sip of punch. “But you are looking a little overwhelmed.”

  I didn’t deny it. “Overwhelmed but grateful. I always wanted to be part of a big family.”

  “And I always wanted to be an only child.”

  “Another joke?” I asked.

  She shook her head but didn’t elaborate and I didn’t push.

  Currently she was both single and celibate and determined to stay that way while she did the work necessary to resume the pre-law studies she had abandoned a few years ago in pursuit of her own happily-ever-after love story. I wasn’t convinced law was the right path for her, but she seemed happy so I kept my opinion to myself.

  “I would have eloped,” Meghan said as we watched Bunny place the baby on one of the sofas near the empty fireplace.

  “Your brother suggested that.”

  “He’s not big on these ginormous family gatherings.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  Meghan opened her mouth to say something then stopped. A startled look crossed her face. “Did you feel that?”

  I started to say no when a weird rumbling sensation erupted underfoot.

  “Not to worry,” I said. “It’s probably the furnace giving up the ghost.” (A little Sugar Maple humor that only I appreciated.)r />
  “The furnace in August? It feels more like a mini-earthquake.”

  “We don’t do earthquakes in Vermont.”

  The last time the earth moved like this, the Fae had been staging a takeover attempt. Not exactly a piece of information I wanted to share.

  I glanced around the room. Clearly the rum punch Elspeth had made was doing its job. Nobody else seemed to notice that the room was vibrating.

  “I was in California last year for a 3.2,” Meghan continued, “and it felt an awful lot like this.”

  I was about to spout some nonsense about the mountains and the valleys when the shaking intensified and grabbed everyone’s attention. Including mine.

  “Stand in the doorways, people,” Luke’s Aunt Peggy called out in her retired drill sergeant voice. “You’ll be safer there.”

  Unfortunately there were more people than available doorways in my small cottage.

  Before I could draw my next breath, the house seemed to do a tap dance on its foundation and a squadron of MacKenzies (and more than a few Sugar Maples) made a run for the front door.

  “The baby!” Meghan said, her tone frantic with worry. “Where is she?”

  I was trying not to freak out. “Your mom has her.” A grandmother who was a retired nurse. I told myself Laria couldn’t be safer.

  Skeins and hanks and balls of yarn tumbled from their hiding places in an explosion of color. The attic stairs dropped down without warning in an avalanche of cardboard boxes and old Tupperware containers. Cups and glasses and plates rattled. Silverware slid from the tabletops and clattered to the floor. My spinning wheel tilted crazily and skated across the room. Unfortunately, all the magazines, unread mail, baby toys, and assorted articles of clothing I’d stuffed into any available space also spilled out into view.

  So now they knew Luke wasn’t marrying Martha Stewart.

  I could live with that.

  Laria was wide-eyed and gurgling happily on the sofa, oblivious to what was going on around her. Clearly, earthquakes were a good thing in her world. She seemed positively delighted by the goings-on. Poor Bunny had been knocked on her butt a few feet away and was scrambling to regain her footing. The baby saw me and started squirming in my direction, all smiles and outstretched chubby arms, as I raced toward her across the shifting floor. The cottage lurched east, then west, and just before I reached her, Laria rose up to the ceiling then floated into my waiting arms, but not before a few graceful mid-air acrobatic loops I prayed nobody noticed.

  I grabbed my giggling daughter and glanced around. Janice winked at me from across the room as Meghan, her back to me, helped Bunny to her feet. Talk about dodging a bullet.

  “Are you okay?” I asked calmly, as if this sort of thing happened every day in Sugar Maple.

  “The baby,” Bunny said, brushing dust from the back of her summer dress. “I shouldn’t have left her alone.”

  “No harm done,” I said easily, trying not to notice the knot of magicks and humans untangling themselves near the back door. Midge Stallworth was practically nuzzling Luke’s sister-in-law Tiffany. Put a vampire close to the warmth of living human flesh and trouble usually follows, no matter how evolved said vampire claimed to be.

  Definitely too close for comfort in my book.

  I turned back to Bunny who was still terribly upset.

  “I stepped away for a second to get one of those throw pillows to make a nest for the baby and then—“ She waved her hands in the air in a gesture of bewilderment. “An earthquake?!”

  “Could be,” Luke’s Aunt Peggy joined us. “I read that there’s a volcano or something developing under Vermont and part of New Hampshire. A huge upswell of heat that geologists have their eyes on.”

  “I read that article too,” I chimed in, “but it will take millions of years for it to amount to anything.”

  Good going, Chloe. I had just stomped all over the perfect explanation. When will I learn to keep my big mouth shut?

  “I’m surprised Luke didn’t come running home to see if you’re okay,” Midge Stallworth snarked as she rolled by, toting two trays of finger sandwiches aloft.

  “Or call,” Renate Weaver, owner of the Sugar Maple Inn, added as she saved a platter of butter cookies from ruin. “You think he’d call.”

  My mind shot off in a thousand different directions, sparking visions of Luke trapped under a pile of rubble.

  I couldn’t blueflame him. My landline was defunct. And I never could find my cellphone when I needed it.

  Meghan pulled an iPhone from the back pocket of her skinny jeans, pressed a few buttons, and handed it to me. “It’s ringing,” she said.

  Luke had barely said hello when I pounced. “Are you okay? Did the quake do much damage?”

  There was a long pause and then he said, “How much punch have you had anyway?”

  My intestines knotted themselves into macramé. “You didn’t feel the earthquake?”

  “Earthquake? Screw the punch,” Luke said. “Have you been hitting the Johnny Walker Black?”

  I took that as a no.

  “Stay put,” he said. “I’ll swing by in the squad car and see what’s going on.”

  I handed the phone to Meghan who was looking at me with intense curiosity.

  “So what did he say?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “Any damage?”

  “None to speak of.” I took a deep breath. “It seems like the quake was pretty localized.”

  Like right under my cottage?

  This had Fae stink all over it.

  “He’s only a few blocks away. Wouldn’t you think he’d feel something?”

  “Call and ask him yourself,” I snapped. “I’m not a geologist.”

  Meghan’s cheeks turned bright red and instantly I was ashamed of myself.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I don’t know what’s going on and that bothers me.”

  “Understandable,” she said. “It was pretty scary.”

  Next to us, Verna Griggs, matriarch of an esteemed were-family, gave a snort of laughter. “Hurricanes are scary. Blizzards are scary. This was nothing more than a cheap amusement park ride.”

  Meghan rolled her eyes. We both knew that only seconds ago, Verna had been clutching her beads. “I’m going to sweep up the broken glass and china,” she said and headed toward the kitchen for a broom.

  “Good idea,” her mother seconded. “If we all pitch in, we can have everything put back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “No!” I said. “Everyone, stop what you’re doing! This is a party. I’ll take care of this later.” I mean, what was the point to keeping a battery of house sprites on retainer if you didn’t use them?

  “This is your day,” Bunny said, giving Laria’s tiny foot a grandmotherly kiss. “We’ll put everything to rights and get this party back on track.”

  And the funny thing is, I actually believed her. The MacKenzie women in action were a sight to behold. I’m not sure a battalion of sprites could do better. Peggy and Bunny assessed the damage, divided the work, and then set the rest of the family to getting it done in record time. You know those commercials where a crew of specialists swoop down on a house and make the damage from fires and floods disappear? That was exactly what those wonderful women did.

  Janice motioned for me to join her in the kitchen.

  “It was Forbes,” she said in a whisper. The Mountain Giant had decided to join the party and had dragged a forty-foot spruce with a root ball the size of a Ford Explorer down from his lair as a wedding present.

  “And that caused an earthquake?” It didn’t make sense.

  “It does if you drop it.” Janice looked like she was stifling a laugh. “I told him the shower was for girls only and he couldn’t join us.”

  “Were his feelings hurt?” Forbes was a very high-strung giant.

  “I promised him three extra pieces of wedding cake.”

  “What about the tree?” />
  “House sprites,” she said. “It took twenty of them, but the tree is back where it started.”

  And that was only the beginning.

  Chapter 3

  CHLOE

  * * *

  “This must have fallen from the attic,” Bunny said as she pulled a dented pale yellow shoebox out from under one of the end tables. “Look! It has your name on it.”

  CHLOE was clumsily printed in green crayon across the lid. A red plaid ribbon held the box closed. It smelled vaguely of cinnamon and spice and the indefinable scent that would always remind me of my mother.

  “Honey, are you okay?” Bunny leaned close. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I have,” I whispered. Once upon a time, that shoebox had held my most beloved treasures. I used to take it with me wherever I went.

  “Give me the baby,” she said, “and you take the box.”

  We did a quick swap. My hands were shaking so hard I’m surprised she didn’t rush me to a hospital.

  I wanted to run to the bedroom I shared with Luke and spill the contents of the box across the bed but I was too impatient. Instead I sat down on the sofa, fumbled with the ribbon, then tossed the lid to the floor by my feet. Meghan had joined us but she barely registered on my radar.

  “Oscar!” I sounded like the six-year-old I had once been. The stuffed pink frog stared up at me as memories flooded in. Oscar had been my boon companion for as far back as I could remember. The small, scruffy toy had been with me on that terrible night—

  I shook my head. Only good memories today.

  I was aware of Bunny’s sharp eyes taking in every last detail but for once I didn’t care. She was sitting at the other end of the couch with the baby on her lap.

  “I’ll bet he was your best friend,” she said, jiggling a squirmy Laria. “All of my kids had a friend like your Oscar.”

  “You should ask Luke about his dinosaur,” Meghan said with a wicked grin. “Your wedding night would be a great time.”

  I started to laugh.

  Meghan joined in. “And make sure to tell him who to thank.”