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  Obviously she needed to learn the new dating rules. Did having coffee with a guy and touching his arm say “kiss me?”

  Once the initial shock passed, Julie decided to kiss him back. For research purposes only, of course. Her working hypothesis was that Harrison had set off fireworks simply because he was the only man she’d kissed in several eons. The same reaction would likely happen with Joe or anybody else who kissed her.

  Joe’s body felt hard and compact. Her shoulders were level with his, which gave her an interesting sense of equality in the kiss, until he swung her around and pushed her against the wall. Good move. She liked it.

  His tongue began tracing her lips, searching for a way in. Very nice. His chest rose and fell at a rapid rate, and his hand reached around her and settled on her bottom. Without any uncertainty, he pulled her tight against him. Wow. Another really good move. She’d give him an 8.7 on technique.

  “Do you see fireworks?” Julie whispered.

  “No, but I feel an explosion building,” Joe whispered back, not missing a beat.

  Julie laughed. She pushed against his chest. “Joe. I really don’t want to ruin a good working relationship.”

  “Our relationship doesn’t feel ruined to me.”

  “Yeah? Well that’s because you don’t know that I was just using you. I wanted to see if there were fireworks when we kissed.”

  “And?”

  “It felt good, but no fireworks.”

  “Fireworks are dangerous anyway. You can lose a hand playing with them.”

  “Or a heart,” she muttered.

  He tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Your complication is a man,” he stated.

  “No. Well, maybe in part. Besides, I don’t exactly know what to call him. Let’s just say he’s definitely male.”

  “You’re not making sense, Julie.”

  That had been a recurring problem over the last few days.

  Joe touched her hair gently. “Go and straighten out whatever twist you’ve gotten your life into. I’ll be waiting when you get back.”

  “Now you’re not making sense. We’re not going to become involved. We work together. Period.”

  He just smiled. “I’m determined to show you that the slow burn is better than the flashy fireworks.”

  Julie closed her eyes. What was happening here? She hadn’t kissed anyone for years, and suddenly she felt like she was channeling Cindy Lui. She opened her eyes and tried for a stern look. “You’re making things much more complicated.”

  Joe winked and kissed her on the forehead. “Good.”

  “What do you mean, you’re going back to Chicago?” Julie arrived home to find her mother heading out the door toward a taxi.

  “Emergency call from the Gigis. I’m needed, ASAP. My flight leaves Metro in two hours, so I have to hurry.” Jean paused on the front walk to glance at the sky. “Looks like we might be in for a storm, too. I thought it was supposed to be sunny today.”

  “It will clear up soon.” Julie trailed behind her. “Mom, I still have questions about this Sun Dancer stuff, and energy wielding and Harry and….”

  Jean put a finger to her lips as the taxi driver hopped out of the car and opened the back door for her. “I’ll call as soon as I can. You’ll be fine.”

  Julie stepped back from the car, surprised by how much she wanted her mother to stay. Tasha had moved back to the dorm this morning since Marguerite was no longer a threat. At least Linda was still around.

  The front door banged and Linda, dressed in dull green leather, jogged down the walk. “Sorry, Jean. I had to take a potty break.” Linda carried a small duffel bag.

  “Wait! You’re going with Mom? What happened to ‘I’m stuck to you like glue, Dancer?’”

  Linda shrugged. “You’ve been given the all clear. She needs me more.”

  “Mom needs you?” Julie looked from Linda to Jean. “What’s going on? What’s the emergency?”

  Jean slid quickly into the backseat and pulled Linda in beside her. “No time to chat right now. We’ll fill you in when we get back.”

  “If you’re in such a hurry, why aren’t you popping instead of flying?”

  Linda shot a warning glance at the taxi driver and lowered her voice. “I’m conserving energy. Got a feeling I’m going to need it for other things. We’ll get to Chicago fast enough this way.” Linda slammed shut the car door and the taxi took off in a squeal of wheels.

  Her mom mouthed the words “I love you” through the rear window.

  “I love you, too, Mom,” she echoed to the empty street.

  Julie turned and went into the house. She’d adjusted to being alone since Tash left for college. One night of a full house wouldn’t change that.

  There were great things about living on her own. She could blast the volume on her iPod speakers and dance to Eighties music all she wanted. She could eat a whole box of chocolates and no one would know but her. Heck, she could walk around the house naked if she wanted to. Of course, she’d rather eat the chocolate—which is probably why she had no desire to walk around naked.

  Silence hummed in her ears. Julie wandered into the kitchen and put on a second pot of coffee. While it brewed she loaded breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.

  Being alone gave you plenty of time to consider the compelling questions in life. Like, why had Joe kissed her today at work? Why did Harry do the stormy weather thing whenever she got close to Joe? And why was that owl back in Harry’s yard? Julie stretched over the sink, trying to get a better look at the bird that flashed by her window.

  The doorbell rang.

  She gave up trying to catch a glimpse of the bird and went to the door. A tall, dark-haired young man stood on the front porch. He wore black pants, a black shirt and a decidedly rakish grin. Her pirate from the hotel.

  The man held out his hand, grasping hers in a warm clasp. “You probably don’t remember me. We met a couple of nights ago. I’m Bascule, your teacher.”

  Julie waited until he released her hand. Then she reached out, plucked a black and gray feather off his shoulder, and silently handed it to him.

  His grin widened. “As you can see, I flew here.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Bas, I think my energy channels have closed up again.” Julie stood next to the stove, dodging the occasional spit of bacon grease. Frying bacon was such a comforting, normal task. Well, maybe normal wasn’t quite the right word. She hadn’t actually fried bacon in about ten years. Zapping the pre-cooked slices in the microwave was her no-mess preference. Bas, however, was a purist. “It’s been almost a week, and I haven’t exhibited a glimmer of power.”

  Bas cracked another egg into a pink, ceramic bowl, added milk, and expertly whisked the mixture into froth. He moved to her side and poured the mixture into a sizzling pan coated with butter. He opened the drawer next to the stove and quickly found the spatula. “Patience, Julie. Triad children spend years learning to master the craft of energy wielding.”

  Julie flipped the bacon onto a plate lined with a paper towel. She refused to be a whiner. “You are an excellent cook, Bas.”

  He grinned. “So are you. That bacon is crisped to perfection.”

  Julie thought of the crab-stuffed portabella mushrooms he’d whipped up for dinner last night. “I’m not as good as you.”

  “Nobody is as good as I am. I’ve had a lot of practice.” Bas scooped light, fluffy eggs onto two plates and turned off the burner. “Both at wielding energy and at cooking.” He picked up the plates and set them on the kitchen table. Julie followed behind with the bacon and a carton of milk. They worked in tandem like a couple that had been married for years.

  “Oh, come on. You’re what? Twenty-four, twenty-five years old? You can’t have had that much practice.” Julie sat down, suddenly depressed. “Good grief. I could be your mother.”

  Bas laughed as he poured himself a glass of milk. “No, you couldn’t.”

  She didn’t want to be that old, so she didn’t argue. “H
ow long do we do this?”

  “Eat?” He met her eyes, smiling. “For the rest of our lives.”

  She smiled back. “How long do we pretend like you’re teaching me something?”

  Bas picked up a piece of bacon with his fingers. He took a bite, watching her while he chewed. “I am teaching you something, Julie. Close your eyes.”

  Julie sighed, but complied. He’d had her do the same thing every day since he’d arrived. Yesterday, he’d had her keep her eyes closed so long that she’d fallen asleep.

  “What do you feel?”

  She began the now familiar routine of sifting through her senses. The scent of bacon, the smooth wood of the table beneath her fingers, the tick of the kitchen clock and Bas’s even breathing all sharpened into focus. She went deeper, searching for what Bas called her “special sense” but which had so far proven special only in its absence. She was about to open her eyes when a sudden, internal hum brought her to full alert. “Bas!”

  “Keep your eyes closed, Julie. Describe to me what you feel.”

  “A low vibration or hum.” She felt something! “I don’t know where it’s … wait, it’s like a string.” She mentally gripped the string, holding on to it like a guide. There were other strands brushing her, humming different tunes. She reached out randomly, tugging one here and there. The hum grew into a symphony, filling her. Each note was distinct. She sang when the strands wrapped around her, her blood alive in her veins, and she soared, swirling and twisting to the haunting melody. A joyous laugh, her own, startled her back into consciousness.

  “Sun Dancer,” Bas murmured.

  Julie’s eyes flew open. “Where did it go?”

  “It’s still there.” He grinned. “It will become easier and easier for you to feel it. Then you’ll learn to grasp the energy—you called it a string?—and pull it until you have enough to transform.”

  “How do I transform it?”

  “That differs for each person. We’ll find your path. Learning to wield energy takes time. You’ve taken the first step. You have to open yourself and feel the energy before you can change it.”

  “Not always.” Julie, suddenly famished, took a bite of egg. “Apparently I sometimes change energy without feeling it at all.”

  Bas’s lazy gaze sharpened. “What do you mean?”

  “I may be righting wrongs and changing lives without consciously realizing it.” She quickly related what had happened on the studies at work.

  A small wrinkle appeared between his brows, and he studied her as if she were a specimen he hadn’t seen before. “Remind me of your lineage, Julie.”

  “My lineage? My mother is a Sun Dancer and my dad was human. Is that what you mean?”

  Bas nodded. “And your grandparents?”

  “I assume Mom’s parents were Dancers and Dad’s were human. I never met either set of grandparents. They died before I was born. Why are you asking?”

  “Sometimes children who haven’t come into their abilities will change small amounts of power unintentionally. But the amount of power it takes to wield the changes you’ve told me about is immense. To be able to do it without training or without thought is almost incomprehensible. The only ones I know with that kind of clout are the immortals.”

  “The immortals?”

  “God and the lesser immortals—angels and demons.”

  Julie lost her appetite. “I’m not God.”

  Bas cocked an eyebrow. “There go my plans to build a Julie temple.”

  She shot him a look. “I’m not an angel or a demon, either.”

  He picked up another piece of bacon and chewed, watching her thoughtfully.

  He scared her. Power scared her. Most of all, the thought of demons scared her. Once, following hours of lying wide-eyed and board-stiff in her bed after watching an old vampire movie, she’d crawled into bed with her mom and dad. Her mom’s chiding voice and her dad’s protective arm around her shoulders had finally lulled her to sleep. What would an actual meeting with a demon do to her? She shuddered.

  “I’m a working, single mom. Period. I don’t want to deal with angels, demons and power. Let me choose the blue pill and lose all knowledge of this.”

  Bas didn’t even smile. He held both hands out, palms flat and devoid of all pills. “You’re not Neo in The Matrix. This is real life.”

  “I want my comfortable world back.”

  “Life has more in store for you than mere comfort, Julie.”

  “You’re sounding like some sort of ancient philosopher, Bas. It doesn’t suit you. And don’t shortchange comfort. It has a lot going for it.” Julie leaned back in her seat, frowning. For no reason at all, because he certainly didn’t represent comfort to her, she asked, “How come I haven’t seen Harry all week?” She tried to sound casual.

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t keep many people informed of his activities. Heidi, his administrative assistant, only knows enough to schedule or cancel meetings.”

  Julie hadn’t seen him since the night that Marguerite had dismissed her as a danger. Obviously, she’d been a duty that had been discharged.

  “You want the last piece of bacon?” Bas held out the plate toward her.

  “No. Go ahead and take it.”

  When Bas picked up the bacon, part of the paper towel stuck to it. He started to flick it off, then stopped and stared at the now-empty plate, a funny expression on his face. He yanked the paper towel totally off the plate. “Where did you get this?”

  Still thinking about Harrison, Julie barely glanced at him. “The grocery store. It’s the new super-absorbent type.”

  “This.” His voice came out tight and low.

  Julie looked more closely. He held the white plate with stars on the border—the one she used to bring donuts to Harrison. “Oh. That used to belong to my grandmother.”

  “No.” Bas looked at her, certainty on his face.

  “That’s what my mom told me. What’s so special about that plate?”

  “This is the Sky Plate. It’s said the Elves fired this centuries ago as a gift to a favored Shadow Walker king. Shadow Walker royalty has used it ever since to hold the sweet cake and the vinegar shared during the binding ceremony. Fifty years ago it went missing and hasn’t been seen since.” He picked up the plate carefully. “It was thought lost during the war.” Bas gently set the plate down. “Where is Jean Dancer?”

  “She’s in Chicago,” Julie answered automatically. Her mind was still grappling with the possibility that elves were real.

  “No school today. We’re going on a field trip.”

  Julie stood on the doorstep of her mother’s classic Chicago two-flat and rang the security buzzer that would alert her mom to the fact that someone wanted entrance. After several attempts, she turned to the man beside her. “She’s not home.”

  Bas looked up and down the street, as if she might appear. “Where else could she be?”

  “Just about anywhere. The last time I saw her, she mentioned an emergency with the Gigis. But that was when she left Ann Arbor.”

  Bas’s gaze sharpened. “The Gigis?”

  “A group mom is involved in.”

  “That explains her absence. You should be very proud of her.”

  “I should? I mean, of course, I am.” Julie gave up on the buzzer and glanced at Bas. “Uh, how exactly have you heard of the Gigis?”

  “Word is spreading quickly about this group. The Gigis are setting an example that all Triad members should follow.”

  Julie walked down the cement steps onto the narrow sidewalk. Bas loved to cook and he never talked about a girlfriend. Maybe she should have suspected…still, she felt a lingering sorrow for womankind. “I’m glad you feel that way, though I don’t know that I agree that all Triad members should follow Mom’s example. Everyone has a right to choose their own lifestyle.”

  Bas shook his head. “In some respects, yes, but being Triad carries with it certain duties.”

  “Are you saying I have a duty to follow in
mom’s footsteps?” No one had mentioned this aspect of the Triad before. She looked directly into his eyes, so dark a blue today they almost looked purple.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” His lips curved.

  “Bas, are you telling me to become a lesbian?”

  His smile froze. “No.” He said the word slowly.

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  “Let’s start again. The Gigis are a group of Triad members consisting of Dancers, Walkers and Penumbrae, a rare gathering of Threes. I’m hoping it’s a sign that the Rift is closing and our people are starting to trust one another again.”

  “Are we talking about the Gay Grays—a lesbian support and activist group for seniors?”

  “Yes.” Bas nodded. “Though they are also warrior protectors, keeping the world free of demons.”

  “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  “No.”

  “My sixty-plus-year-old mother fights demons?”

  “The Gigis are gaining in effectiveness as they use their power more.”

  “Hell.” She wanted to use stronger swear words, but her shocked brain couldn’t think of any.

  “No, right here in Chicago.” He must have taken pity on her dazed look. He gently took her arm and turned her to face the deserted street. “What’s different about this neighborhood since the last time you were here?”

  Julie tried to focus her thoughts—her mom, a demon warrior!—as she looked up and down the block. She frowned and looked again, noting the quiet, well kept facades of the houses and the cars parked bumper to bumper at the curb. Everything seemed normal, except…she narrowed her eyes and looked again. “I can’t put my finger on it, but something gives me the creeps.”

  Bas nodded. “It’s the people, Julie. There are no people outside.”

  “You’re right! Nobody’s walking a dog. There aren’t any joggers. Kids aren’t skateboarding or hanging out on the porch steps.”

  “People are staying inside because they’re scared. It’s urban warfare on the streets these days.”

  “I didn’t realize things had gotten this bad,” Julie whispered. Nightly news stories flashed into her memory, making her aware that she should have been paying more attention. “I need to get Mom out of this city.”