be happy to oblige.”
“Ha ha ha ha!” I did the hysterical laughter again, looking around quickly for the nearest means of escape. Damn him for noticing where I had bumped into him! One thing was certain: I couldn’t let him go back there. I ignored the odd look he was giving me and said quickly, “I
“Do you know,” he said slowly in a near drawl, “I get the oddest feeling that you don’t wish for me to see the Animal Wall. Which is a very odd thing, for which I have very few explanations. And yet, the sensation is there. It leads me inevitably to the question of why you have so carefully hustled me across the width of the park.”
I stared at him in abject horror for the count of seven, then spat out, “I have to run!” And I did. I turned on my heel and ran like the hounds of Anwyn were after me, weaving in and out among people, hurdling small children, and dashing past booths and tents to the parking areas beyond the edge of the park. I ran until I had a stitch in my side, whereupon I slowed down to a jog until I spotted my mothers’ car. I stopped next to it, gasping for air, searching the lit streets behind me for signs of pursuit. There were none, thank the gods, but that didn’t mean anything. Hurriedly, I dialed Mom Two’s phone number.
“Where are you?” I gasped in between panting breaths.
“At the entrance. I thought you’d be here by now. Mrs. Vanilla has something to show you.”
“The Watch is there.” I unlocked the car and got in, starting it up as I continued. “He’s blond, about six one, and is wearing a sapphire blue silk shirt and black pants. Fancy shoes. Little cleft in his chin. Golden stubble. Earring. Hair slightly curly in the back and crinkles around his eyes. If you see him, get the hell away and call me. I’ll be there in about two minutes, traffic willing.”
I pulled out into the traffic, my fingers tight on the steering wheel. How on earth could the man see through me so easily? What if he found the moms? How was I to get them off of a kidnapping charge? The people at the L’au-dela had been very specific when they arrested me, believing I was my mother—they’d said one more crime, one more incident of straying from the path of righteousness, no matter how small, and they’d toss my mother into the Akasha, where she’d stay for all eternity.
“That was an unusually detailed description, Gwen,” Mom Two said thoughtfully. “What is this golden man’s name?”
I turned onto the road leading to the park drop-off zone. “Gregory Faa. Don’t call him Greg.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t like it. I’m almost there. Stay safe.”
The three of them were waiting for me when I pulled up a minute later. I was nervous as hell as the moms assisted Mrs. Vanilla into the backseat of the car. I scanned the people around the entrance until everyone was strapped in.
“Right,” I said, jerking the wheel and slamming my foot on the accelerator. “Now we take you to Summerland.”
“What?” My mother shrieked a little at the way I took the corner and clutched madly at the back of the driver’s seat. “Dear, you almost knocked Mrs. Vanilla to the floor, and she’s already been down there when your other mother was driving.”
“Told you to strap her in,” Mom Two, who was riding shotgun, said complacently. “Not my fault if you didn’t do that.”
“I did strap her in, but she must have unhooked it. No, dear, leave it on.” Mom was addressing Mrs. Vanilla, gently patting her hands. “Gwenny is a very . . . intrepid . . . driver, and you’ll need to be wearing that for safety’s sake. Gwenny, we cannot go to Summerland.”
“You don’t have a choice now,” I said through my teeth, swearing under my breath at the red light. Every ounce of my being urged me to flee the area, to take my mothers and hide them somewhere safe, out of the reach of the handsome Gregory and the organization he worked for. “The Watch is here. They’re still looking for you. And that damned man is too smart for my comfort. Why can’t you go to Summerland?”
“The man you fancy?” Mom asked.
I shot her a startled look in the rearview mirror. “Huh?”
“Alice said you fancy him. I’m pleased for you, naturally, because you’ve been alone for a hundred and forty years, and you’re not getting any younger.”
“I am only a hundred and twenty-four, thank you,” I said somewhat acidly. “And I’ve had boyfriends. Now, about Summerland—”
“Pah.” Mom Two said, gesturing away my past. “Emphasis on the ‘boy.’ Your mother has always said that what you need is a real man, not one of those manosexual flibbertigibbets who walk around with their messenger bags and their manicured hands and such. I believe you can’t go wrong with a woman, but that doesn’t seem to be something you wish to pursue.”
“Pah,” she said again, then returned to the previous subject. “We can’t go to Summerland, and that’s that.”
“You have to go!” I said, pounding the steering wheel when another light turned red. “Dammit, I don’t want either or both of you sent to the Akasha! You have to go somewhere to lie low until the Watch gives up trying to find you. I’ll take Mrs. Vanilla back right now, and then we’re getting you two to safety. They won’t keep after you long once she’s back. You’ll only have to stay there for a few months. Six at the most.”
“No,” my mother said, and I could see in the mirror that she was shaking her head. Worse, she had that stubborn look on her normally placid face that I knew boded ill for me.
“Then where do you want to go? It has to be somewhere beyond the reach of the Watch.”
She gave a little half shrug. “I suppose we could visit Anwyn, as you suggested.”
I wanted to bang my head on the steering wheel, but knew that would do no good. Besides, the light had just turned green. “I’d take you there in a heartbeat, but we don’t know how to get in.”
“Mrs. Vanilla does,” Mom Two said.
I shot her a startled look. “She does?”
“Yes. That’s what she wanted to show you. Mags, do you have it?”
There was a click as my mother unfastened her seat belt in order to lean forward and wave a piece of paper in front of my nose.
Suddenly blinded, I swore and jerked the car to the side of the road. Luckily, it was empty of parked cars. “Mom!”
“See? Mrs. Vanilla drew a map showing the entrance of Anwyn.” Mom sat back and with a smug look snapped her seat belt into place.
I stared at the crumpled piece of paper, willing my heart rate to slow down as I smoothed out the wrinkles. “OK, this is a mistake.”
“I doubt if it is, dear.”
“No, see, this can’t be right. The old biddy—sorry, Mrs. Vanilla, no offense intended—the old lady is a shrimp or two short of a cocktail. She has to be.”
Mom Two frowned. “Why would you put a shrimp in a cocktail?”
“That was a reference to a shrimp cocktail. I was trying to be witty. It relieves the feeling that I’ve gone insane.”
“Mags,” Mom Two said, her gaze never wavering from my face, “I have changed my mind. A second visit to Dr. Gently may well help our girl.”
I shook the paper at her. “I am not the one who needs to see a mental health counselor! I didn’t the first time you guys dragged me in to see her, and I sure as shootin’ don’t now, although all the little gods and goddesses know that I’m entitled to one, given what you’re putting me through.”
“Gwenhwyfar Byron Owens!”
I looked upward, knowing full well what was coming next.
“You are very well aware how offensive we find it when you say things like that. We raised you to be a proper Wiccan, one who worships the Deity, not a mingle-mangle of assorted gods and demigods.” Mom had her sternest face on, the one I had run into quite a bit in my teenage years when I rebelled against their Wiccan
