Page 50 of The Music Demon

“What?”

“Turn around so you can’t see me. I’ll turn around so I can’t see you. When you’re readythinkmy name, like you’re calling out to me with your actual voice. I’ll let you know I hear you.”

“This is stupid.”

“Indulge me.”

She flapped her arms against her sides pretending exasperation and turned around. Deciding she wouldn’t mentally call to Lyric right away, in the interest of a fair test, she studied her fingernails. If she thought he might run out of patience, she was wrong. Natural-born demons are patience personified.

He stood quietly for almost ten minutes until he heard her loud and clear. “There it is,” he said.

“You heard me!”

“Of course.”

“But you’re just right there. May be different when I’m an ocean away.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No different. I will hear you even if I’m in the furthest sylphi dimension.

“Well.”

“Well.”

CHAPTER SEVEN Brand New Pair of Roller Skates

Shivaun breezed through the Abbey’s foot-thick doors like they were made of lightweight aluminum, said hello as she passed a couple of hunters, and located Sheridan in a heated discussion with her mate.

“Honeymoon over so quickly?” she asked more snidely than she intended.

Sher looked her way and smirked. “So happens my mate likes disagreements. It heats his blood. If ye know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows; something she’d recently learned to do to imply inuendo.

Sir Finngarick gave Sher a lingering kiss and a suggestive pat on the rear.

“Shy.” He bowed his head slightly as he walked past, knowing he needed to give the two time to catch up.

“Where’ve you been? I was gettin’ worried,” Sher said.

As one of the cooks went by, Sher said, “Could we possibly trouble ye for some tea? For two? We’ll be upstairs.” She pointed to a space directly above where they stood for clarification.

Breakfast time in San Francisco was tea time in Ireland and Shivaun hadn’t had either. While her new constitution didn’t require food, she found eating and drinking were as nice a pastime as ever.

When the cook was out of sight, the sisters slipped into their favorite nook. It was a second-level alcove with tall leaded windows that had been adapted as window seats. On top of ancient stone were thick, Titian-colored, velvet corduroy cushions that complimented their coloring beautifully, even if that was only recognized subconsciously.

They walked around the library table that sat slightly in front of the window seats and settled. “You do no’ need to bother them for that. You can make your own tea,” Shy began.

“Well, o’course I could. But havin’ people do domestic things on my behalf is a perk of bein’ a Black Swan knight. And I like usin’ the full menu of benefits.”

“All fine and good, but no’ what I meant. I meant you candoit yourself.” Sher was as confused as she should be given the nonsensical word salad. “Like this.”

Shy waved her hand and a full tea appeared on the table.

Flawless crisp white linen. Royal Doulton cups and saucers. Gorham silver. Scones, gigantic strawberries at the peak of ripe perfection, and a large crystal dish of heavy clotted cream.

Shivaun heard her sister’s breath hitch slightly when the breathtaking repast appeared from nowhere. Ignoring that, she cocked her head as she looked over her creation. It was beautiful, but missing something.

“I know!” she said out loud and waved a large clear vase of fresh garden flowers onto the table, some of which did not grow in the Northern Hemisphere at any time of year.

Sher turned to her sister with narrowed eyes. “I do no’ know what sort of witchcraft this is, but ‘tis easy to see you’re showin’ off at it. Like usual.”

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