From Brigit’s Journal:
I was thinking of stories this morning—I’m going to have to remember a lot of the family stories quite soon.
When I was little, my mother told me that our family had been blessed by the Sidhe. My great-grandfather, Jonathon, was hiking down to the water one morning to go fishing, when he saw a little girl sitting on the side of the road. He stopped to ask if she needed help. She said she was hungry, and he gave her the bit of bread he had in his pocket, even though it meant he’d have no lunch. He offered to take her back to his home so his wife could give her a proper meal, even though it meant going out of his way.
The little girl stood up and transformed into a tiny little man, no bigger than Great-grandfather’s knee. He said that since Jonathon was so helpful, without begrudging the help, he’d bless the family. We might have times that were hard, but no one would ever stay lost—no matter what happened. We might run away, or be swept out to sea, but somehow, we’d always end up home again. The faeries would watch over us.
Since Joe was coming for dinner, I decided we’d order Chinese takeout. I could hardly wait to spring the news that Irena had agreed to sell the lot after all, though I was still a little worried she might try to back out of the deal again. I glanced at the clock. Five-fifteen. The kids wouldn’t be home till near six and Joe had said he’d arrive around six-thirty.
On a hunch, I pulled out the pages I’d copied from Brigit’s journal and began reading through them again, to see if I could find anything I’d missed. And then—there it was. A story about her great-grandfather and the faeries.
I read through it, silently thinking about the Will o’ the Wisps. We’d barely seen them since the night I discovered the skeleton. Could their purpose have been to lead us to her? Perhaps they were the faeries that were watching over Brigit’s family. Now that we’d found her body, they could fade back to wherever it was they’d come from. I had a sudden urge to put flowers out for Brigit, to assure the powers that be that we were thinking about her. No doubt her bones would be returned home to her cousin, so Brigit would be going home, in a manner of speaking. I wanted her spirit to rest, as well.
Perhaps the only way to do that was to cleanse the lot. And perhaps that was the final key in bringing Sammy back home and returning Mab to her ghostly owner. Brigit had loved her cat; they rested together even in death. And maybe that’s why she was still walking the world, even after we’d discovered her final resting spot. She was looking for her cat.
I’d just started listing ingredients that went into the strongest exorcism ritual I was familiar with when a brief knock announced that Joe was home. He popped his head around the corner, wearing one of the biggest smiles I’d seen in a while.
“I’m early. That okay?”
“Okay? Of course!” I dropped my pen and raced over to give him a big hug, breathing his scent into my lungs. He smelled like cinnamon and spice and cloves, and my desire flared as he gathered me in his arms and glanced at the clock.
“Do we have time before the kids come home?”
It was six o’clock. The kids got out of their after-school activities at six-fifteen and it would take another twenty minutes for them to arrive home.
“C’mon!” I grabbed his hand and dragged him upstairs. Quickies had their time and place, and right now twenty minutes in bed with Joe was one luxury I wasn’t about to take a pass on.
We tumbled out of our clothes, laughing. I reveled in the feel of his hands on my skin, on my breasts, on my thighs as he traced circles with his fingertips, drawing vines and tendrils. He leaned over and slid his tongue against my own and I welcomed his presence in my home, my bedroom, my body. Joe reached for protection and then rose above me, bearing down with the mastery of his ancestors—robust and full of vigor. As my legs entwined around his waist, I forgot all about ghosts and spirits and long-forgotten bones in a sweep of love that brushed them into the dark corners of my mind.
By the time the kids came trooping through the door, we were dressed and back in the kitchen. My heart ached at the look on their faces when I broke the news that Sammy hadn’t come home yet. Tears in their eyes, they headed into the living room to play with the kittens. I ordered the takeout, then Joe and I talked over coffee while we waited for it to arrive.
He leaned back in his chair. “You met with Irena today, didn’t you?”
I blinked. “Did she call you?”
“Her lawyer did,” he said, breaking into a wide grin. “The lot’s mine. He’s working up the final papers now. We can get back to work on it, though I have to tell you, that damned place scares me out of my wits. What the hell are we going to do about it?”
I went over everything that had happened with Brent and Irena and White Deer. “I’ve come to the conclusion that Brigit must be searching for Mab. The Will o’ the Wisps were there to lead us to her body, thanks to the pact the faeries made with her great-grandfather,” I said. “I’m thinking that if we clear the lot, Sammy and Mab will be able to exchange places and Brigit and Mab will be free to rest or go off and do whatever it is that spirits do.”
“Maybe so,” he said, musing. “Broken hearts and ghost cats and skeletons in trees… the stuff legends are made of. I wonder who killed her.”
“If you ask me, I think it was probably Brent. According to Irena, he was always unstable and, unless I miss my guess, for some reason he snapped and killed her, then tried to cover it up. When Irena heard that a skeleton was found on the lot, she must have put two and two together.”
“Maybe.” He toyed with his coffee mug. “Meanwhile, though, I want to talk about something else. Specifically, your birthday.”
I blinked. We’d barely discussed my birthday since we’d found the basement and the hauntings had started. “Yeah, tomorrow night. I’ll be thirty-seven. Joe,” I said, hesitating.
“What?”
Taking a deep breath, I took the plunge. “Do you think… in ten years, do you think our age difference will bother you? I’ll be closing in on fifty by then. Well, forty-seven, and you’ll still be in your prime.”
He stared at me, puzzled, then a look of understanding spread across his face. “Good God, woman! Has that really been worrying you?”
I nodded, blushing.
He laughed. “Emerald, I’m in love with you. Not your age. You’re beautiful and vibrant and everything I want in a woman. Whether you’re thirty-seven or sixty-seven, I’ll still love you.” With a soft look, he reached across the table and took my hands in his. I hung my head, embarrassed to have questioned him in the first place.
“Yes, you’re ten years older than I am, but does that matter? I’m not going anywhere. I’m not looking for anyone else. I’ve never been a player, and I don’t respect the sort of man who toys with a woman’s affections. Like Andrew.”
I blinked. Joe had a thinly disguised disgust for the man I’d been dating before he came into the picture. I didn’t blame him. Hell, it had been a bitter pill for me to swallow when Andrew dumped me. When he came crawling back a few months later, I’d been secretly overjoyed to be able to tell him thanks, but no thanks, not interested. We’d tried being friends, but that hadn’t worked out. He’d called a few times since then, once getting Joe on the line—which hadn’t been a pretty sight. Every time he’d sounded whinier and needier.
I looked up into Joe’s face. He held my gaze for a moment, questioning, and then I broke down and laughed. “Oh Joe, you’re so good to me, and I’ve been an idiot about this. Thank you for understanding, for not treating me like I’m crazy.”
“I never said you weren’t crazy,” he said sternly, but then snorted. “But, I’d never call you an idiot. Now, where’s dinner?”
The doorbell rang and I heard the kids come racing downstairs. “Mom, Mom! Takeout’s here!” Kip sounded overjoyed. Dinner could make or break his mood.
As Joe went to pay the delivery man, Randa sidled up. “Mom, I invited Gunner over. He’s supposed to be here in a few minutes. Is that okay?”
I gave her a long look. “Well, I wish you’d asked earlier, but yes, it’s fine. I ordered plenty of food. Go wash up.”
Kip was setting the table when the doorbell rang. I answered and there stood Gunner Lindemeyer. A tall boy, he was already my height. Skinny, blond, the picture of a young Scandinavian lad. But I could tell that he’d been crying recently, and could only imagine how lost and confused the boy must have felt as he tried to find a way to cope with the enormity of his situation. I wanted to wrap my arms around his shoulders, to let him cry. He needed a mother’s touch, and his own mother was fighting for her life.
“Come in.” I escorted him into the kitchen just as Miranda bounced back from washing up. Her gaze fell on Gunner and she almost tripped. Blushing, she stammered out a greeting. Oh yeah, she had it bad.
We gathered around the table and I took a long look at the boy. He’d survive, I thought. He might be hurting now, but he had a strong spirit. If his parents made it through, he’d help them recover. He was just that kind of kid.
As we dove into the fried rice and pot stickers and sweet-and-sour pork and almond chicken, Gunner didn’t say much but the expression on his face told me just how much he missed all of this—family and chatter and bright lights and companionship. I had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t too happy at his aunt’s house.
For once, my darling Kip had the good sense to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth. Not once did he approach the subject of the fire. Randa, on the other hand, morphed into a moon-eyed love child. She hung on every word Gunner said, as infrequent as they were. Her food sat untouched on her plate, until I gently prompted her to eat.
Joe and I glanced at each other. We weren’t the only ones in the thralls of love. Bless his heart, Joe launched into telling the kids that he’d be able to buy the lot next door after all and the conversation picked up.
Kip cheered. “Does that mean we can go back over there and look for Sammy?”
I nixed that idea right off. “No, it does not. We’ve been keeping an eye out for her but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you prowl around over there.”
Gunner cleared his throat. “Are you and Mr. Files engaged?”
I glanced at Joe and he grinned. “Not really, not yet.”
“I’ll ask her to marry me when I think she’ll say ‘yes,’ ” Joe said.
Kip and Randa stared at us, open-mouthed. I decided to change the subject. “Dessert’s in the freezer—Donna Linda’s ice cream.” The kids had developed a taste for a gourmet ice cream that we could only get at the Shanty Barn.
Thoughts of marriage forgotten, Kip and Randa raided the freezer. Gunner waited politely for a bowl, which Miranda prepared. He glanced around the kitchen and I could tell he was taking in the feel of the house.
“My aunt thinks that you’re an evil woman,” he said almost offhandedly. “She’s nuts, though, so don’t be offended.”
I stared at him. Where had that come from? “What?”
“My aunt. She says that you’re in league with the devil because you talk to ghosts and spirits and you don’t go to church. I don’t like my aunt,” he added. “She bitches because I write.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, especially with his choice of language, but Randa jumped in immediately. “Mom isn’t evil! You’re aunt’s crazy—”
“Randa, hon, that’s not a nice thing to say, but I appreciate you defending me.” I wasn’t sure how to deal with this. I didn’t want to belittle Gunner’s aunt in his presence, but I wasn’t about to let somebody ride roughshod over my reputation. “Gunner, what do you think?”
A faint smile appeared on his lips. “I think my aunt and I don’t get along very well,” he said, accepting his ice cream.
I nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it sounds like you’re going to have some problems all right, kiddo. Well, just for your peace of mind, I don’t believe in the devil… not the way a lot of people do. I do believe evil exists, but it comes in many forms and shapes and behind many facades.”
“So does bad luck,” Gunner said, staring at his plate.
Randa glanced at him, then at the rest of us, and did something I never expected to see her do—she slid an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay—I know it will. And I’m here if you need to talk.”
He blushed, but I could tell that she had eased his pain, if just a little.
I quickly looked in Kip’s direction—this would be the perfect chance for him to embarrass Miranda, but again, he wisely kept his mouth shut. When I saw he wasn’t going to take advantage of the opportunity, I smiled at him and gently nodded. As soon as the kids finished dessert, they decided to head out into the backyard to search for Sammy since the skies had partially cleared. I excused them from kitchen chores and they bolted for the door.
Joe kissed me and headed back for work, and I was alone in the kitchen. The house seemed to breathe with life and, for a brief moment, everything felt calm. I yawned as I cleared the table. Long day, and I wanted a bubble bath and my sweats. I’d just started to stack the plates in the dishwasher when Randa jerked the door open and stumbled in.
“Mom, Kip fell out of a tree—he’s hurt.”
I was out the door before she could say another word, racing barefoot through the mud. There, near the fence that separated my property from the neighboring lot, Kip lay on the ground beneath the oak. God damn it! Weren’t my children safe in our own yard? As I skidded to a halt, falling on my knees beside him, he groaned and looked up at me.
“I saw her, Mom! I thought I saw Sammy. She was in the tree, but then she disappeared!” Samantha… Kip must have seen Mab and got the two mixed up. I glanced up at Gunner, who looked confused.
“I didn’t see anything,” he said.
Randa caught up and knelt beside me. “Should I call the hospital?”
“Where’s it hurt, kiddo? Are you okay?”
He shook his head, biting his lip and I could tell he was in a lot of pain. “M-m-my arm, I think I broke it when I fell.”
I grabbed the flashlight that was lying on the ground and trained it on his arm. Sure enough, his right wrist and forearm were twisted in an unnatural position. Shit. I turned to Randa. “Go call Joe. He’ll bring a medic unit. Tell him I think Kip’s arm is broken.”
She scrambled to her feet and raced off while I tried to keep Kip from squirming. “Kiddo, I know it hurts but please, keep calm. Joe will be here right away, and he’ll fix you up good and proper.”
“Am I gonna have to go to the hospital?”
“Probably,” I said. “But I’ll be right there with you.” I brushed his bangs back. His forehead felt clammy. Shock, probably. I glanced up at Gunner, who was pulling a Bambi-in-the-headlights. Emotional overload, probably. “Gunner? Gunner!”
He slowly shook his head and looked at me. “Huh?”
“If you want to help out, why don’t you go see how Randa’s doing with that phone call? And ask her to bring me a thick blanket, my shoes, and a coat.”
After he disappeared toward the house, I leaned down close to Kip’s face. “Kiddo, tell me what happened.”
“We were calling for Sammy and then I looked up at the oak tree an’ saw her up there. She was meowing. Randa saw her too, but Gunner didn’t. Anyway, I started climbing up to get her and I almost had her when… when…” His lip trembled.
I winced. Not only was my son in pain but the one thing he wanted most in the world had been right within his grasp before she slipped away. It must have broken his heart when he realized she wasn’t really there.
“When what, hon?”
“She disappeared—poof—and I tried to grab for her and fell out of the tree.” He shivered and I put my arm around him, taking care not to shift his shoulder. Randa and Gunner came back then, they were carrying my heavy coat, a pair of sneakers, and three blankets.
“Did you get hold of Joe?” I snuggled one blanket under Kip’s head, then covered him with the other two.
She nodded. “He should be here in five minutes. He said not to worry.”
Yeah, right. Not worry. Good one. “Randa, I think Gunner had better go home for now. I can’t drive him, so go call his aunt and have her come pick him up. If she can’t, then get a ten-dollar bill out of my purse and call a taxi.”
She looked crestfallen and shot one quick glowering look at Kip, but when she saw that I’d noticed her expression, she hung her head. “Okay,” she said.
“Ms. O’Brien?” Gunner hung back.
“What is it, Gunner?”
“Thanks for everything. I had fun.” After a moment, he added, “Hey, Kip, you get well.” He gave a half-wave and followed Randa through the kitchen door.
Joe was good to his word. Within five minutes he and a crew were crowded around Kip while I stood back, watching and biting my nails. They examined him thoroughly, then Joe headed over to me.
“Well, his arm really took a beating. Legs seem fine, he has some bruises and needs to be checked just in case there’s any internal damage, but overall, I’d say he escaped relatively unscathed. What the hell happened?”
Keeping my voice low so the other paramedic couldn’t overhear us, I filled him in on what had gone down. “We have to do something Joe. White Deer offered to help me cleanse the lot. We’ll get started tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow’s your birthday—”
I cut him off. “And I want to see more birthdays! And I want my kids to see more birthdays. But at this rate, we may not unless we clear up this nightmare that’s been set in motion. Listen, do you mind if the kids and the cats and I stay at your apartment tonight after we get done at the hospital?” I wasn’t above bumming a safe haven when we needed it.
He nodded. “You don’t have to ask, babe. You’ve got a key.”
“All set, Captain!” His partner waved to the stretcher where Kip lay firmly strapped in. “He’s good to go.”
“I’ll see you at the hospital,” I said. After giving Kip a kiss and assuring him that I’d be there soon and that everything was going to be A-okay, I stood aside to let the paramedics pull away. As soon as they headed down the street, I raced back to the house where Randa was waving at Gunner as he sped off in the back of a taxi.
“How’s Kip?” she said.
“Broken arm, I’m not sure what else. Joe said that he should be okay.” I shuffled through my purse to make sure I had everything, then nodded her toward the door. “Randa, did you see Sammy in the tree too?”
She paled. “Yeah, though I thought it was the ghost cat at first. But Kip wanted it to be her so bad… I’m sorry.” She hung her head. “I told him go ahead and climb up to check it out. Kip’s so good at climbing trees that I thought he’d be okay. We didn’t have time to come get you. Since we were in the backyard, I thought we’d be safe.” As she shrugged into her jacket, she said, “Mom, will Sammy ever come home?”
I smoothed her bangs back from her face. “I really think she will, honey. We’re going to stay over at Joe’s apartment tonight after we get done at the hospital. Then tomorrow, White Deer is going to help me finish cleansing the lot and maybe that will be just what Sammy needs to find her way back.”
As we hopped into my SUV, my stomach churned. What if we couldn’t clean the lot and it stayed a haven for sadness? What if Sammy never came home? I pushed everything out of my mind, unable to cope with any more stress.
We reached the E.R. ten minutes after Kip was trundled in. The nurse glanced at me and smiled.
“Ms. O’Brien, you’re here again?” She blushed. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” I said and rolled my eyes. Great. Of all the places where I could be known as a regular, it had to be the hospital. Let’s see, how many times had we been here in the past year? I started counting on my fingers and then shook it off. Enough of the past. Time to focus on the present. Hopefully, the rest of the year would pass without incident.
“Captain Files asked me to tell you he had to return to the station. He wants you to call him whenever you have news.”
“Thank you. Can I see my son now?”
“He’s in the x-ray room. As soon as he’s done, we’ll take you back. Meanwhile, I need you to fill out some new paperwork. We’ve updated our system since you were in last.”
Fretting, I filled out the forms while Randa plunked herself down on a sofa and picked up a magazine. Half-an-hour later, the nurse motioned for me to follow her and led me down the labyrinth of sterile corridors. We stopped in front of a set of double doors that looked all too familiar. I took a deep breath as she peeked in, announced my presence, then guided me through.
Kip sat on the table with an oversized hospital gown wrapped around him. He looked cold, and even though he’d put on his stalwart “I’m a big boy” face, I could tell he was tired and worn out. The doctor glanced up as I entered the room.
“You his mother?” he asked.
I nodded. “Emerald O’Brien. How’s my son?”
“Kip will be fine once he’s mended. His arm’s broken, but it’s a clean break and the x-rays showed no internal damage. Your boy’s a tough customer. Of course, he’s going to be in a hard splint for six weeks, and a sling for a while, but that’s not going to be so bad, is it, slugger?” He grinned at Kip and a light shone through the doctor’s aura. Curt, but caring.
Kip’s “warrior” face disappeared and he perked up. “Yeah, an’ I can get all my friends to sign it.”
“Whoa, slow down there,” the doctor said. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but the splints we use now aren’t like casts used to be. You’re going to have to pass on having friends autograph it.”
Kip’s expression fell. “Aw gee. Can I keep it when they take it off?” He appealed to me. “Mom?”
Oh yeah, my son was already on the mend. “We’ll see what we can do,” I said dryly, wondering how to preserve a splint so it didn’t stink to high heaven or grow moldy. No doubt, I’d find out if it could be done, one way or another.
The med tech took Kip away to be fitted with the splint. While he was gone, I had a little chat with the doctor. I told him exactly what happened: Kip thought he saw our missing cat in the branches of an oak tree in our backyard, climbed up, got startled by something, and fell. Period. End of story.
He nodded. “If your cat’s still missing in a week or so, call me. I’ve got a batch of kittens at home. We adopted a cat and didn’t know she was pregnant and now we’ve got eight little mouths mewing at us.”
I headed back to the waiting room where Miranda was impatiently flipping through an old copy of Discovery Magazine. She glanced up, her eyes red like she’d been crying.
“Your brother’s going to be okay.” I settled in next to her and she dropped the magazine back on the table and leaned against my shoulder. “They’re putting a splint on his arm, and he’ll be in a sling for a while. It’s a clean break, so there shouldn’t be any problems.”
“I love him, even if he is a pain,” she murmured. “I don’t want to see anything happen to him.”
I kissed the top of her head—no small feat since she was almost as tall as I was—and gently tucked my arm around her. “We can’t ever be totally safe, honey, but we do our best. Kids get into scrapes all the time, regardless of whether it’s a ghost or a faerie or the neighborhood bully.”
“Did I?” She looked at me, her brilliant brown eyes dark and flashing.
I laughed. “You? Are you kidding? When you were three, you fell down the steps at our old house and banged up your nose. Two years later, you tried to climb out on the roof to watch the stars. I had the horrible feeling you were in danger and ran into your bedroom. You were trying to get out the window. I’d left it cracked for fresh air and you were doing your best to open it.”
She blushed, but looked pleased. “I don’t remember that at all.”
“Well, it’s true. Of course, you weren’t strong enough to manage it but still… that’s when the safety screens went on. I never told your Dad, though. He would have been furious and would have ended your interest in stargazing.” My daughter had been watching the skies since she could toddle.
Randa closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep as we waited for the doctor’s return. An hour later I had dozed off myself, but the sound of my name startled me awake. The doctor waited until I’d rubbed my eyes, then sat down next to me.
“You can take him home in a few minutes. No strenuous activity for a few days. Keep him in a sling until we say otherwise. No climbing trees or any other dangerous stunts until it’s healed. The nurse will give you a home health-care sheet that explains how to keep the arm clean and how to take care of the splint. Take him to your doctor on Monday, and if there’s any noticeable swelling in his fingers or above the top of his cast, bring him back to the E.R. immediately.”
“What about pain medication?”
“Children’s Tylenol or Motrin. We gave him a mild muscle relaxant so he’ll sleep easier tonight, but that’s as strong as he needs.”
I thanked him, took the handouts, and stuffed them in my purse. We waited for another fifteen minutes until the nurse wheeled Kipling out. He looked tired, but excited. Broken bones and bruises and dangerous encounters with the unknown always seemed to perk him up. I had little doubt that he’d end up an explorer or eco-adventurer.
By the time we were back in the car it was almost eleven o’clock. I drove directly to Joe’s place and dropped off the kids, making sure Kip was as comfortable as possible before heading for the door.
“I have to go back home for the cats and clothes. Watch TV, have a snack, and for God’s sake, don’t go anywhere, don’t open the door for anybody, and don’t get into anything. And don’t take off that sling.” I glanced at my watch. “I’ll be back in half-an-hour. Randa, watch out for your brother.”
She nodded solemnly. She could tell when I’d reached meltdown level and I was dangerously close. I forced myself to drive the speed limit on the way to our house, hoping it was still in one piece.
The lights were blazing, but I remembered that I hadn’t bothered to turn them off before leaving for the hospital. I gingerly made my way up the front porch and unlocked the door. As I slid inside, I stopped and listened. Silence. Nothing except a sudden meow as Nigel came rushing down the stairs. He entwined around my legs, happy to see me. I tiptoed into the kitchen, wary but hopeful. With a little luck, everything would be in order. A quick glance around showed me nothing was out of place. So far so good. But what about the backyard?
I peeked out the kitchen window. A faint sparkle of light here and there but at least the Will o’ the Wisps were no longer swarming. I couldn’t help but wonder what else might be prowling around under the cover of night. At least one spirit kitty that I knew of.
Before retrieving the cat carriers from the back porch I refilled the dish of dry food we had placed just under the porch steps in case Sammy might be around. Something had been eating the food. Probably raccoons, but as long as there was a chance it might be her, I’d keep it full.
As I set the dish on the ground, a flicker of movement caught my attention. There, to my left, shimmering and beautiful and graceful, sat Mab. She sidled up to me, purring loudly. As I let myself tune into her energy, I knew—on a gut level—that she hadn’t meant for Kip’s accident to happen. The poor cat’s aura was rippling with waves of loneliness. She’d probably saw what she thought was a chance to make some sort of contact. Mab looked up at me, a winsome expression in her eyes.
I tentatively reached out, but my hand passed right through the translucent tortoiseshell’s side. I sighed. “I’m sorry, little one. I can’t pet you. We aren’t exactly in the same world.”
She gave me a solemn stare but a moth caught her attention and she pranced around, chasing the luminous white insect. She would have caught it, but her paw swept through the wings and the moth flew off, unaware that it had been marked as ghost food.
“Have you seen Samantha?” I asked, kneeling down to get a better look at her. “We miss her. If you can help her get home, I’d appreciate it.”
I could swear Mab understood me. She purped and blinked, and something in the air shifted. Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was because tomorrow night was almost All Hallows Eve… whatever the case, in that instant I knew White Deer had been right. Mab was as lost as my Samantha. She couldn’t find her way back to Brigit. The cats had traded places and both were lost in the slip-stream of time.
“We’ll try to help you, baby. Meanwhile, if you see Sammy, tell her we love her,” I said, trying to hold back my tears. Reluctantly, I left her, going inside to pack an overnight bag.
I gathered Nanna’s journal, the kids’ homework and school clothes, then managed to hunt down Nigel and his sisters. They protested their incarceration, but I ignored their indignant mews and managed to herd them into their carriers, promptly depositing them along with their food, litter box, and the rest of my gear, into the back of the Mountaineer.
After arming the security system I took one last look around and locked the door. Tomorrow we’d finish this. Tomorrow we’d try to put Brigit to rest, and to build a bridge over which Mab and Sammy could cross.