Page 22 of The Fae’s Treasure

“Sometimes people are lonely. And they want more out of life, and they just... They make mistakes.” Said Deanna, speaking for herself. I clear my throat. “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not going to help anything. What do we do now?”

“Learn all we can about the laws of magic in this place. Mr. Silverman—”

“The guy at the bank? He sold me my house. He knows about this stuff?” I demand, waving my hand at Dairmuid and his glossy wings.

“I should think so. He’s a werewolf.”

I have to sit back down. “Oh.”

“Well, there is a high priority on keeping the creatures here peaceful and protecting the innocent. If that is the case, there may be some natural protections for Rory if he stays here for now—unless, of course, you want to go—”

“Nope. Not going to go spend a weekend in Fairyland and come back to discover I’ve missed a mortgage payment or ten. It looks pretty and everything,” I add gently, “and it sounds great. But... I guess it wouldn’t make sense to you, but sometimes the crappy stuff about being human, like aging and bills, doing the work to make the life you want without any magic, is still the good stuff and is really awesome. I know I just met Rory, but I want to see him grow.”

“If Saz gets a hold of him, he will not grow up.”

“I won’t let that happen,” I say, my voice so low and so threatening that I barely recognize it.

“Good. Neither will I. Allies?”

“All right. Allies.” I manage a smile and hold out a hand. “Shake on it.”

“The bargain is struck, the truce is made,” Dairmuid says gravely, taking my outstretched hand and kissing the back of it.

Stupid butterflies in my stomach. I thought they all died out long ago. “I r-really should go practice.”

“I will escort you and my son. Consider me your protector, Lady Deanna. Your man-at-arms,” Dairmuid says with a sweeping bow.

I nod, tongue sticking to my lips, unable to speak. This man has every right to take Rory, if we’re going t by parentage alone. He has powers that I can’t even fathom.

He could turn me into a mouse or something, then take Rory back to Neverland if he wanted. Laws or no laws, there are always loopholes, and if anyone knows how to find them, it’s demon or fae, at least according to all the stories my daddy read aloud to me when I was little, piles of folktales and legends, folklore from across the globe.

I don’t trust Dairmuid, not completely, but I like that he’s choosing higher roads when the lower ones are so much easier.

“Do you like organ music?” I ask, reaching for the diaper bag, figuring I’ll change Rory before I go.

“I like very nearly all music,” Dairmuid smiles. “I am told I play quite well.”

“Hmm. Same here.”

“Perhaps we can harmonize when Rory is fussing?” Dairmuid asks.

I smile in spite of myself. “I’d like that.”

“Oh, my goodness. I haven’t made your acquaintance, sir. You just fly in?”

Pastor Ignatius Fortnum tucks his Bible under his pudgy arm, closes his laptop, and hustles over to wring Dairmuid’s hand. “You must be the proud papa!”

Dairmuid looks as shocked as I am. “Indeed.”

“Well, welcome, welcome. Deanna, I sent you an email about ordering a more up-to-date copy of the organ accompaniment for the hymnal. That old one is all tattered to bits. And you brought Rory with you. Why, hi, sugarpie.” The pastor waggles his fingers at Rory, who is sitting in his carrier, staring blearily at him. “Why, what pretty red eyes.” He looks between Dairmuid and me, face thoughtful. “You know, with the two of you, I’d have pegged him with green or blue eyes for sure. I haven’t seen a true fae in Pine Ridge in a dozen years. Tell me, is it like human babies being born with blue eyes? Are all the little ones born with red eyes?”

“You can tell?” I croak.

“Oh, yes, honey, I can tell.” The pastor smiles. “You don’t have to worry about Rory or his father fitting in around these parts, Deanna. You just wait until choir practice. We’ve got all sorts—two ghosts, one Orc, a dragon, a minotaur, and a bat-man—not the superhero, plus plenty of humans. Tell me—” He looks at Dairmuid, who bows low and replies.

“Dairmuid Danann.”

“Dairmuid. Do you sing?”