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the cat I said hello. At least he’s clear about which side of the Never he belongs on.”
    I eyed her. “Are you leaving?”
    “Of course. Once you go, there will be no reason for me to stay.”
    “No reason other than the view,” I said, glancing at Bryn.
    She laughed, and it was haunting and musical.
    I rolled my eyes and realized it was ridiculous for me to feel so protective of Bryn. With a few words he could probably clear Edie out of Texas let alone the house. “All right, I’m going. Don’t touch my candylegger while I’m gone.”
    She laughed again, the sound brittle, and I caught the words she called after me as I left. “How times have changed. When you were little, you always offered to share your candy with me.”

4
    I PUT ON a jacket and slipped my feet into clogs before I went out.
    “Merc?” I called. “Where are you?” The tinkling sound was less irritating but still rang out every few minutes. Not seeing Mercutio or hearing him nearby, I waited.
    My socks seemed to tighten on my feet. I frowned, backed into the house, and closed the back door.
    “There is nothing wrong with these socks,” I whispered to my feet. “They fit just fine.”
    With the door closed, I relaxed a minute but shook my head. My feet were becoming a problem. Being from a small Southern town, I’d spent a lot of time climbing trees, hopping into swimming holes, and doing things that were best done without shoes. As I grew up I thought going barefoot was just a habit I’d gotten into. Recently though, I’d realized it was something more. Since my brush with the fae part of my nature, socks and shoes often suffocated my feet. It was hard to explain the urge that overtook me, forcing me to bare my feet and let the earth touch them, but it had been coming on more and more frequently.
    The people I loved—Momma and Aunt Mel, Edie, Bryn and Zach, even Mercutio—would think that was a disaster. So I’d kept it a secret from everyone, which was kind of lonely.
    I couldn’t be turning totally feral, though, I thought, chewing my lip nervously. Wild animals didn’t know how to bake pies or mix cookie dough, and I was still as good a cook as ever.
    I walked through the house and went out the front door. “Merc? You here?” I called. A rustle of leaves made my spine stiffen and I slowed, my knees bending deeper in case I needed to dive out of the way of an attacking faery or speeding arrow.
    Mercutio is nocturnal and spends most nights hunting, but because he can also sense magic, he’s helped me fight magical creatures and solve mysteries. He might be only twice the size of a regular house cat, but he’s got the heart of a lion.
    He yowled, and I ran toward the side of the house. A band of hobgoblins, small fae, had surrounded Mercutio, with their spears jabbing in his direction. He growled at them.
    “Hey,” I snapped, swooping in to grab him. I’d been poked by their small spears before and expected sharp pains in my calves, but they backed up.
    Mercutio writhed in my arms, ready to fight. The hobgoblins assembled into a tight group and shook their spears triumphantly.
    “You better not jeer,” I warned, but they didn’t listen.
    A slim halo of orange morning light rose. They looked up and then turned and raced into the bushes. For a moment, I saw their small eyes glow from the darkness and then disappear.
    I dropped Mercutio. He darted to the bushes, stalking in circles, searching for the tiny fae warriors.
    Then he padded back to me with a complaining growl.
    “I know you could’ve taken them, Merc, but trust me on this, those spears are sharp. They could’ve put your eye out.”
    I tucked my hands into my pockets.
    “It’s weird, huh? Us being able to see them now?” I asked.
    Mercutio didn’t disagree.
    “Usually only other fae and small children can see faeries. And maybe animals—could you always see them, Merc?”
    Merc eyed the hedges, but the plants had stopped ringing. The faeries seemed to be