Wondrous Strange

have been a harsh decision at the time, but Auberon was well within his rights to make it. The child was his heir!”

Bob was relentless. “And the fact that you were, what, the son of a poor crofter? Or that your friend who waits outside the door-whatsisname? Maddox-that he was a mere blacksmith’s child…did that then make it all right for the Faerie to cross thresholds and steal you from your folk?”

“I…”

“Do you not think that your own mother wept bitter tears at the loss? Tear at her pretty, dark hair and fall to the ground in an agony of mourning for her stolen child?”

“What do you know of my mother?” Sonny demanded, suddenly furious.

“Pretty thing, strong-willed, and a wild heart. Blue eyes. Lovely face…when it wasn’t all twisted up with grieving, that is.” The boucca spoke in low, thrumming tones. The glint of mischief was gone from his eyes. “The theft of you tore her apart. Tore her family apart. They all thought she’d gone mad. Husband up and left because he couldn’t stand the pain in her.”

“Stop it.”

“Do you not think a woman like that might have sworn revenge?” The Fae’s eyes glowed green as his stare bored into Sonny. “A child for a child?”

“My mother-”

“Could never have crossed into the Otherworld. No matter how strong, nor wild, nor willful. Not without help.”

“But you just said-”

“Yes. I did.”

Sonny could only stand there staring at the boucca, mystified.

“Now. There’s something to think about, eh?” Bob fell silent then. He crouched on the landing, utterly still, watching Sonny with his unblinking eyes.

Riddles. Why is he giving me riddles? Questions with no answers, all obscured by the emotional impact of thoughts of his mother. His mortal life that could have been…He clamped down hard on the urge to ask anything further and turned to leave.

Except there was just one more thing he wanted to know. A mere curiosity-but it pricked at his mind…

“Tell me something.”

“Is that an order?” Bob glared flatly at him.

“No. Please.” Sonny held up a hand. “I mean-I would like to know. If you would like to tell me. The story I heard about you and the leprechaun…”

“And the honey jar?”

“Yes. Did it happen? Really?”

“Well…the insides of my ears are sticky.” He snorted. “And I occasionally attract the attention of amorous bees. You tell me.”

“How did you get out?”

“May the gods bless progress.” Bob raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Eight or nine years ago some bullyboyo contractors came along and built a five-star resort and golf course on the very site. The day they broke ground, they broke my jar!”

Sonny laughed despite himself.

Bob shrugged. “It’s a very nice course. I’m sure the patrons wonder, though, why they lose so very many balls. And the plumbing in the clubhouse tends to be…quirky.”

“Never cross a leprechaun.”

“Right.”

“What did you do to raise his wrath?”

Bob’s expression went stern. “That I will not tell you.”

“But why-”

“What I will tell you is this. Are you listening?”

Sonny nodded silently. The Faerie’s stare was so intense that Sonny almost felt it as a physical sensation.

“Once upon a time,” the boucca continued, “I was Auberon’s henchman, much like you. But I was never Auberon’s fool. And I am not entirely without compassion.” And then Bob, who was called Puck, who was called Robin Goodfellow, laughed gently and leaped gracefully from his perch, disappearing up into the shadows of the high stage rigging. His last words echoed down through the darkness.

“Take care of her, Sonny Flannery,” he said. “I did…”

XI

Kelley showered in the tiny bathroom attached to her dressing room and blow-dried her hair. Of course, when she glanced up at the high, tiny window, she noticed sourly that it was suddenly raining buckets. Good thing her jacket had a hood, she thought, because her umbrella had gone missing days earlier. She suspected Bob.

With a sigh, she packed up her stuff and got ready to head home for a nice, quiet evening spent figuring out how to get a full-grown horse out of the bathtub-and the apartment-without alerting the neighborhood.

Standing in the doorway, watching a curtain of water sheeting off the sloped roof, Kelley briefly contemplated sleeping in the theater that night. What with the stormy weather and the no doubt stormier roommate…

Coward.

Squaring her shoulders, she yanked up her hood and stepped out into the sleeting rain. Instantly it felt as if she was running underwater. She could barely see through the downpour; ducking her head, she darted into the side walkway, where the eaves of the Avalon offered a scant bit of protection. As she glanced up from the puddles, Kelley halted, startled by the sight of a figure perched on an old wooden crate and peering through the grimy leaded-glass window that looked into one of the theater’s rooms. Her dressing room.

Where I just spent the last fifteen minutes standing wrapped in a towel!

Kelley stifled a gasp with one fist while her other hand went to the overstuffed bag hanging from her shoulder, with her can of mace buried somewhere deep inside. She tried to back away as silently as she could, but the figure stiffened, as if he had heard her sneakered feet over the rattling sound of the rain on the trash cans. Kelley turned to make a run for it back toward the stage door. Somehow the man made it off the crate and was blocking her way before she had taken a step.

How could anyone move that fast? she thought.

Then she looked into his eyes, and every other thought melted away.

Handsome Stranger.

His face was exactly as she remembered-from both the park and her midrehearsal dream. This time his gaze flashed not with compassion or sympathy, but with danger. His beautiful mouth was drawn into a thin, tense line.

His expression put Kelley on guard.

“Well if it isn’t the FTD florist,” she said, tilting her chin up defiantly. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

Three words that made her heart hammer painfully in her chest. Kelley had to stop herself from backing up a step. This was not exactly how she had wanted to run into Handsome Stranger again. This felt dangerous.

“What were you doing in the park after dark last night?” he asked, his tone sharp.

Anger took hold of Kelley. “What makes you think I was in the park after dark?”

“I know you were. I know you stayed there after I left you in the garden, and I know you found…something.” He was watching her very closely. “I need to know where it is. Tell me. Now.”

“Get lost.”

“Excuse me?” He blinked, startled. The blankness of his expression made him seem suddenly boyish, and Kelley