“Fraternal. Okay, interesting, but so?”
“Actually,” Claudine said, looking down intently at her chicken, “your brother, Jason, is the spitting
image of Dermot.”
“Are you suggesting that . . . What are you suggesting?” I was ready to be indignant, once I knew why.
“We’re only telling you that this is why Niall has been naturally inclined to favor you over your
brother,” Claude said. “Niall loved Fintan, but Dermot defied Niall at every turn. He openly rebelled
against our grandfather and pledged his loyalty to Breandan, though Breandan despises him. In addition
to Dermot’s resemblance to Jason, which is only a quirk of genes, Dermot is an asshole like Jason. You
can see why Niall doesn’t claim kinship with your brother.”
I felt a moment’s pity for Jason until my common sense woke me up. “So Niall has enemies besides
Breandan and Dermot?”
“They have their own followers and associates, including a few assassins.”
“But your dad and your mom are on Niall’s side?”
“Yes. Others are, too, of course. All of us sky people.”
“So I have to watch out for any approaching fairies, and they might attack me at any time because I’m
Niall’s blood.”
“Yes. The fae world is too dangerous. Especially now. That’s one reason we live in the human world.”
Claude glanced at Claudine, who was wolfing chicken nuggets like she’d been starving.
Claudine swallowed, patted her mouth with the paper napkin, and said, “Here’s the most important
point.” She popped in another nugget and glanced at Claude, signaling him to take over.
“If you see someone who looks like your brother, but isn’t . . .” Claude said.
Claudine swallowed. “Run like hell,” she advised.
Chapter 9
I drove home more confused than ever. Though I loved my great-grandfather as much as I could on our
short acquaintance . . . and I was absolutely ready to love him even more, and I was willing to back him
up to the limit because we were kin . . . I still didn’t know how to fight this war, or how to dodge it,
either. Fairies did not want to be known to the human world, and they never would. They weren’t like
the wereanimals or the vampires, who wanted to share in the planet with us. There was much less reason
for the fairies to keep in line with human policies and rules. They could do anything they wished and
vanish back into their secret place.
For about the millionth time, I wished I had a normal great-grandfather instead of this improbable,
glorious, and inconvenient fairy prince version.
Then I was ashamed of myself. I should be happy for what I’d been given. I hoped God hadn’t noticed
my lapse of appreciation.
I’d already had a busy day, and it was only two o’clock. This wasn’t shaping up to be my normal day
off. Usually I did laundry, cleaned house, went to the store, read, paid bills. . . . But today was so pretty I
wanted to stay outside. I wanted to work on something that would allow me to think at the same time.
There sure was plenty to mull over.
I looked at the flower beds around the house and decided to weed. This was my least-favorite chore,
maybe because it was the one I’d often been assigned as a child. Gran had believed we should be
brought up to work. It was in her honor that I tried to keep the flower beds looking nice, and now I
sighed and made up my mind to get the job done. I’d start with the bed by the driveway, on the south
side of the house.
I went over to our metal toolshed, the latest in a series of toolsheds that had served the Stackhouse
family over the generations we’d lived on this spot. I opened the door with the familiar mingled feelings
of pleasure and horror, because someday I was going to have to put in some serious work cleaning out
the interior. I still had my grandmother’s old trowel; there was no telling who’d used it before her. It was
ancient but so well taken care of that it was better than any modern substitute. I stepped into the
shadowy shed and found my gardening gloves and the trowel.
I knew from watching Antiques Roadshow that there were people who collected old farm implements.
