Five-gallon buckets of water from the spring never got any lighter. They were slightly more manageable with grimalkin muscles, but it was with relief that Tara set them down on the ground in front of the sunroom. A full moon was overhead, which meant nearly midnight.

  A truck turned into the driveway. She froze, then darted for the kitchen door with the water in hand as the vehicle rounded the corner of the house. The headlights washed across the yard just as she slipped inside.

  Heart pounding, Tara stood frozen in the darkness of the cluttered kitchen. Who was out there?

  A truck door opened. Footsteps approached the door. The grimalkin’s senses were far keener than any human's, and even with the door shut, she could tell who was outside by their smell alone. Her shoulders relaxed in relief, recognizing the distinctive scent of sandalwood.

  There was a faint rustle, and the doorknob rattled, then she heard him retreating. His steps were quick, nearly a trot. Cautiously, Tara cracked the door. He was most of the way back to the truck. “Avery,” she said, “what are you doing here?”

  He looked back over his shoulder, eyes widening. “Just brought you some stuff. I hope it wasn’t weird, but I realized there are other things you might need. You’re all alone here. And, uh, it’s been a hell of a day for me, and sometimes I just need to do stuff... anyway, I figured you were asleep, and you’d find it in the morning.” His words were quick. He was fidgeting.

  “Grimalkin are nocturnal. I sleep during the day,” she said, stepping outside. He’d left several grocery bags on the ground beside the door. “Why are you doing this?” He’d stopped by twice in one day. She hadn't exactly been nice when she'd left earlier.

  “Because you need help. Uh. I brought more food and some novels ... and I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier.”

  “Books?” She asked. She'd lost her cool. She didn't want to discuss her reaction earlier. Maybe she could divert the conversation to a topic less emotionally fraught than how very acutely vulnerable she was, if anyone bought the place and discovered her.

  What was she going to do? The house would be sold soon!

  She was lucky it had taken Mark this long to lower the price to a reasonable number — and that delay probably wasn’t coming from Mark, the source was Tyler Riley, Mark’s cousin and the estate’s executor, who’d never met a penny he couldn’t pinch until it squeaked in protest. She’d heard the two of them argue in the house’s front yard a few times, with Mark demanding that the house be sold and the estate settled so that he could spend his share on a place to live, and Tyler insisting he had a “fiduciary responsibility” to get the best price possible. Tyler seemed oblivious that his cousin was essentially homeless while they waited for the place to sell... which tracked from what she remembered of him.

  Avery took the conversation bait, to her relief. He said, “I remember who you used to read in high school, so I grabbed a few of their newer books from my library.” He smiled quickly at her, teeth flashing white in the moonlight. To human eyes, his features would have been lost in dark shadows. Grimalkin vision was better; she could see him clearly, as if he were standing in monochrome twilight. Again, he sounded nervous. His movements were jerky. She didn’t think he was high — she’d have smelled it — but he was definitely off somehow. Something was wrong.

  “You noticed what I was reading?”

  He ducked his head, then looked up at her through his long, mascara-darkened lashes, before fidgeting and looking quickly away. He had no business being that gorgeous, and his nervous dorkiness only made him more adorable. He explained, while staring at the ground, “I like the same authors, but you didn’t want to talk when I asked about them. You were the only other kid I ever saw reading Bujold.”

  Vaguely, she remembered him approaching her in the high school library, making comments and asking questions about whatever book she happened to be reading. The library had been where she went to hide from the bullies, though sometimes they even found her there. She had assumed his interest would eventually lead to scorn once he learned the details of the fantasy novels she’d been immersed in.

  Again, she’d misread him. She regretted that. It might have been nice to have a friend who liked the same authors. She sighed. “Sorry. Everyone used to tease me about reading.”

  “I get it. They did the same to me.” His quick grin bared teeth that were brilliantly white in the moonlight. “Some of the kids we went to school with were evil.”

  “You had so many friends, though. Everyone liked you.”

  He took a deep breath, and then in what sounded like a deliberately slower voice, he said, “Not everyone, I promise. As soon as he had his driver’s license, Casey picked me up after school because there were several kids who just wouldn’t give it a rest, and my mom’s suggested solution was to ship me off to some boarding school for rich brats. Like, I wasn’t out until I was a sophomore...” he gestured at his full face of makeup and curly purple hair with one hand, “... but I was still different for so many reasons. Casey couldn’t defend me when I was in junior high because he was already in high school, so it was a pretty bad time.”

  Avery’s words kept getting faster and faster as he said, “Casey didn’t have the grades or the test scores, either, to get into the school my mom really wanted for me, even if my mom paid. I can deal with physical harassment, but verbal is a little different! And the bus driver was on their side! Like, they hassled me for most of a ride one day, when I was just trying to hide in my seat and read, and I finally yelled at them to ‘either fuck off, or I’ll kick your ass when this bus stops!’ and I got the detention for swearing and threatening them. Nothing happened to them!”

  His smile had disappeared. He took a deep breath, then, in a more normal tone, he lamented, “I just wanted to ride the bus like the other kids, but they made it impossible.”

  She ran a hand over her hair, which was currently twisted into a messy bun, and said, “Oh. I didn’t know you got bullied, too. They never left me alone, ever. Todd would harass me until I snapped, then record me and put it on the internet. One time, I was screaming that I was going to kill him, and he gave a video of it to the school. He claimed he was terrified I’d hurt him. I ended up suspended for a month and almost got expelled. My dad was useless; he wanted me to drop out so I could babysit his other kids, so he encouraged the school to punish me, saying I needed to learn a lesson... The video didn’t show that Todd had just run up behind me and poured a soda all over some paintings I’d worked on all year. They were supposed to be part of a college portfolio, and I was carrying them to the art room so I could scan them in. The submission deadline was the next day. So of course, I was enraged.”

  In that instant, she’d known her dreams of college were done. She hadn’t gotten any of the scholarships she’d applied for and had not been accepted into any of the decent art schools. Her portfolio had been reduced to a mix of the least-stained pieces and some of her older paintings at home that weren’t as good.

  In the end, she’d dropped out of high school in her senior year to get away from Todd and his relentless abuse, passed her GED with a perfect score the next week, and then taken some classes in appliance and HVAC repair at the local community college.

  Her fists balled as she remembered the absolute sick horror as she had watched grape soda soak into the watercolor paper.

  Avery spat, “Fuck. Him. Wherever Todd is, fuck him.”

  “With a cactus,” she said, giving Avery a brief flash of a smile. She’d been afraid Avery would immediately get ... inappropriate, one way or another, when she’d noticed his mood, but he was keeping a respectful distance from her.

  She explained, “And, as far as where Todd’s at — well, after he turned me into this, I did my level best to really kill him. I nearly got him, but he opened a portal and went through it to Simon’s world.”

  His expression grew thoughtful. In the most normal tone of voice she’d heard from him since his arrival, he said, “That can’t be good. How much trouble do you think he’s getting up to there?”

  “Probably, lots.”

  “There’s something wrong with Todd. I swear the man’s simply evil.” Avery slid a hand under his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you think somebody in Simon’s world can deal with him?”

  “I don’t know.” She gave him a sideways look and then changed the subject to what they really needed to talk about. She didn't like asking for help from anyone, but Avery was her only option for escape. “If this place is going to be sold to somebody else rather than you, maybe you could help me try to break the geographic binding. That should be easier to do than changing me back, since it’s not a physical transformation. It’s just a compulsion.”

  “You said it could kill you.”

  “Yes. If it was set up that way. It’d be worth the risk rather than being tied to this place forever, potentially with new owners who will... well, I can’t imagine many folks are accepting as you are.”

  “Oh. New owners. Yeah. That’ll be us. The money issue’s sorted."

  She hadn't believed him when he'd said he had other options. She blinked. "Wow."

  "I’ll make a formal offer first thing in the morning, but I texted Mark, and he already said he’d agree. He asks how you’re doing.”

  “Tell him to fuck off,” she blurted out, reeling from the whiplash of the conversation — in one second he’d casually mentioned coming up with funding that would, likely, save her life; the next he’d brought up one of her worst childhood bullies.

  “Have you ever punched him in the nose?”

  “No, should I?” she asked. As tempting as it had always been, she’d feared the consequences, especially since her father would direct the school to throw the book at her every time she got in trouble. Now, though, would it matter? If the authorities ever discovered her, she’d have bigger things to worry about than an assault charge.

  She wanted to go back to the subject of paying for the house, but when she started to speak, he didn’t seem to notice. Before she could even get the first syllable out, he said, “Hitting him, if he deserves it, might make him respect your boundaries more. Always worked for me.”

  Avery had a great smile — she couldn’t help but notice it. One corner of his mouth tilted slightly more than the other before he said, in a more serious tone, “I heard what they did to you for prom, and I’m sorry! If I’d known... I almost asked you, you know, but then I heard you were already going with Mark. Then I almost asked you if you were crazy, but I figured it was your business!”

  He was babbling again. It would have been cute if he hadn’t just said something that left her completely confused. This conversation was going to give her whiplash.

  “Why would you have asked me?” One second, they’d been commiserating about Mark; the next, he was bringing up ancient history.

  “Because I like you!” he blurted, looking sharply away. “Sorry, that was weird. I mean that in the most respectful, non-stalker-y way. You’re cool. I kept trying to figure out ways to make friends with you, and it never worked... sorry. Forget I said that! Anyway, I also didn’t ask because I figured you’d say no.”

  “I never realized you liked me,” she said, slowly. This conversation was surreal. She’d assumed she would be discovered by the outside world sooner or later and had feared that would lead to a fate that ranged between simply being shot by a terrified redneck to being hauled off to a government lab. She’d never expected her childhood crush to show up on her doorstep and confess he had a secret attraction to her.

  She had been ugly as a human, no two ways about it. Why would anyone as stunningly beautiful, wealthy, and desirable as Avery even look twice at her? He was so far out of her league that they weren’t even playing the same sportsball game.

  He shrugged. It made his pecs ripple distractingly beneath his t-shirt. She forced herself look at his face, not his muscles. He was saying, “... Anyway. I didn’t go to prom at all. My mom was so upset. I asked several girls, but they said no, or, well... I changed my mind on one. I wasn’t interested in any of the queer guys. I could have gone alone, but I didn’t want to be that loser.”

  Ah. Now, his words made more sense. She was a bit shocked that there hadn’t been a line of people wanting to go with him, but it seemed she’d been his last option, and rather than asking her, he’d simply decided to skip going. Her voice sounded too normal in her own ears when she asked, “Why was your mom mad?”

  He scratched at his jaw. “She wanted to help me pick out a dress at some designer shop in LA. Honestly, though, I didn’t even want her input. I’m not a frou-frou type. Back then, she would try to go all out with the ruffles and lace, like she literally suggested we could dye this 1980s wedding dress she found hot pink and add a bunch of sequins. I had my eye on a vintage black pantsuit with bell bottoms. I figured it’d look good with a gold choker and belt, like super sleek and stylish and all.” he stopped and eyed her sideways, expression suddenly wary. He concluded, “Like I said, one girl said yes, but only if I wore a tux and no makeup. Casey told me she wasn’t comfortable with me, but she liked my money, so no loss there.”

  “That pantsuit sounds fun.” She could picture him with his long legs in swishy silk, his muscles filling the top out, and his colorful hair brightly contrasting against the dark fabric. Was it short-sleeved? His biceps were amazing and needed to be shown off to the world.

  Despite her hurt feelings at not being asked, she said, “I bet you’d have looked good in it.”

  Relief blossomed across his face in the form of a bright smile. “And to answer your question about why I considered asking you, it’s because when you look at me, your expression says you like what you see. I’m not everyone’s preference, and that’s okay, but I think I might be yours.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  She realized she was blushing and staring at her feet. Had she been that obvious? She muttered, “If you’d asked me, I would have said no, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “Yeah, figured. It’s why I didn’t ask.”

  Oh. That put his lack of an invitation to her in a whole new light. She said quickly, “I went with Mark because Todd promised to give me back the Book of Needs if I did. That’s the only reason I said yes. He lied, too. And, I think you’re gorgeous — but Avery, I was a fat, ugly chick who lived in a trailer with holes in the floor. I wore my cousins’ hand-me-downs to school until I got too big for them, and then it was Gus’s old clothes.

  “Half the time after Granny died, I smelled bad. My dad only let me bathe once a week because hot water wasn’t free, and I couldn’t always get to the gym in time to shower before school because sometimes I had to walk my little brothers to their babysitter first, and she only opened fifteen minutes before school started. It was either be tardy or smelly, and if I got detentions for tardies and couldn’t babysit for cash for my dad after school, I got in so much trouble... anyway. I'm rambling. We come from totally different worlds. I get why you decided not to ask.”

  He shook his head. “I knew you were poor! I’ve never cared about who had money. All money’s good for is buying stuff. It doesn’t make someone a better person. Also, you’re not ugly. Not then. Definitely not now. I saw you were trying to keep clean. I know the kids made fun of you for showering at school, and it was so cruel! Tara, you shut me down every time I tried to talk to you. I may be a clueless dork on the best of days, but even I could understand that. I try to respect people’s boundaries, and I thought you were setting one. You didn’t seem to want anything to do with me.”

  “But, you’re beautiful, and you had so many friends. Why did you want to date me?”

  He stepped closer. The wind had shifted; he smelled of cinnamon, sandalwood, and fresh ground coffee. “Tara. I want to hang with people who enjoy the same things I do. We like the same authors, movies, and TV shows. You made that gorgeous painting in art class during your junior year. I’m talking about one of the dragons you did in the style of Lisa Frank — you’ve seen my art, yeah? We’ve similar tastes, though you’re a lot better at it! And I still remember that you were the only other kid to get an A in Mr. Duffy’s Algebra class, and I had two different math tutors helping me. You figured it out on your own!”

  She blinked at him. Had he actually been paying that much attention to her? She muttered, “I like math.”

  “Yeah, no shit. Do you remember when you tried out for West Side Story? With no training whatsoever, you had the best voice there. They should have picked you for Maria.”

  “Chloe is pretty,” she said, unable to keep a little bitterness from her voice.

  “Chloe was prettier than all the other girls, not just you. She’d taken theater for several years, starting in junior high, and my mom even paid for her to take some lessons with me and my acting coaches so I’d have somebody local to practice with, but you know what she lacked? Sheer, raw talent. You had the better voice and ability by a long shot, and I’m still mad that you didn’t even get a walk-on role. You were that good.”

  He folded his arms, lower jaw jutting out with remembered indignation. “Don’t know if you knew this, but I talked to the teacher about it, and she said the other issue was that you were taller than me that year. I had a growth spurt later and passed you, but before that, I always had to look up at you — and I liked it! Plus, she wanted me singing in the higher registers, you know, do my Freddie Mercury impression, and you were a contralto. She didn’t want a Maria taller and with a deeper voice than Tony, which is total bullshit. I told Mrs. Humbert that I could play Maria and you could play Tony if that was the problem, and I don’t think that went over well. She got mad at me. Then, I wanted to quit, but my mom wouldn’t let me. It wasn’t fair.”

  He looked sideways at her, “I was joking about you playing Tony. Sorry.”

  “I would have done it. I’m damn near built like a boy anyway — with a binder, I could totally pass as a dude.” The joke came out swiftly, with a rush of adrenaline. She bit her lip with one fang and looked down. What had possessed her to say that? Her father had constantly teased her about belonging to the ‘Itty Bitty Titty Committee’ and worse.

  He snickered as if he hadn’t noticed how she’d suddenly tensed and said, “Oh, man, can you see the haters’ reactions? It would have been so much fun if we could have swapped roles. It would have been epic.”

  Just for an instant, she could see herself on stage, singing and dancing with the most gorgeous man she’d ever set eyes on... with that man rocking a poodle skirt and Mary Janes far better than most women ever could.

  It was a pleasant fantasy, but it hadn’t happened. For her, good things never did.

  “Tara, my point is, I wanted to get to know you because I thought we could have fun together.” He looked up at her. “I’m always looking for friends. They balance out the enemies, you know? Shit, just today...”

  He trailed off and shook his head. “How did we get on this tangent? I just came by to drop off some stuff. Damnit, I’m being awkward here.”

  “What happened today?” She could hear the real distress in his voice. Avery, she thought, should never be unhappy. The man was naturally cheerful.

  However, now he seemed smaller. His shoulders sagged, and it was his turn to avoid her eyes. In a tone much quieter than she was used to hearing from him, he said, “Some asshole happened. I was at a bar that’s normally a safe space. The jerk picked a fight with me because I sang ‘True Colors’ and wore some makeup. It was, as you can imagine, pretty fucking upsetting.

  “Normally, I’d talk it out with my brother, but he’s got enough to deal with now with Simon, and Shana’s got her own traumas. Me talking to her about shit like this triggers her, and I don’t like to do that to her when it’s just dumbass stuff. But I shouldn’t have come here, especially in a mood like this. I swear to you, I just planned to leave you some stuff and sneak off. Giving gifts to people who need them makes me feel better about myself, y’know?”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say.

  He explained, “I was at the bar to sell the watch to my dad’s old buddy. It was some sort of rare prototype worth a fortune. Anyway, I asked him for three hundred. He just wired me three-fifty and said to pay him back the extra when I get my inheritance. He said he drove by the house and saw how rough it is and figured I’d need the extra.”

  “Three hundred and fifty dollars?” she said, confused. “Towards... a down payment? I don’t think this place’ll finance.”

  Avery shook his head. “Three hundred fifty thousand. Enough to pay for it outright, with money left over for the reno — and to pay you a salary if you want to help, and I’m sorry I didn’t think my offer to you through earlier. We’ll count that apartment as a free perk and pay you what your labor’s worth.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. Had she just implied a very valuable watch he owned was worth nothing? Should she be embarrassed? She had no idea, but she felt more than a little anxious about it.

  And, belatedly, shock followed. He’d been walking around with a watch that valuable on his wrist? What if he’d banged it against something on accident and damaged it? What if he’d been mugged?

  How could a watch possibly be worth more than a house? Rich people were crazy.

  All she could say was, finally, “Wow.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I was glad my uncle Miguel was willing to help me out and buy it. He’s a good dude.”

  Only then did relief finally, truly, flood through her. If Avery bought the house, perhaps things would turn out okay. She’d have to hide from the guests, but she’d have Avery to talk to... and that thought left her nervous, for he seemed too good to be true. Was he a trap? Would the other shoe drop? Did he genuinely want to be her friend?

  He’d said he liked her. What did that even mean?

  Would he turn out to be weird? His body language and general demeanor wouldn’t ordinarily inspire confidence in her, but, on the other hand, it was somewhat understandable given the day he said he’d had. She resisted an impulse to hug him; she’d never hugged a guy she liked in her life. He’d probably reject her if she tried.

  Could he be trusted?

  Could he be a friend?

  She missed having somebody she could trust. There hadn’t been anyone since Granny died.

  Avery was a lot different than Granny, though. What if he were really, genuinely interested in her and everything he seemed? The thought caused a strange warmth in the pit of her stomach and terror in her heart.

  Then, irritation flared. It was probably all a lie. So many times, people had pretended to be her friend only to betray her. Often, that had been deliberate. How could she possibly know he was honest?

  He shrugged, oblivious to her inner turmoil. He explained about the watch, “I couldn’t justify keeping it. If I don’t buy the property, what would happen to you? I had to do something. If I didn’t, the guilt would have eaten me alive, and I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.”

  “Oh.” Nobody had ever done anything like that before in her life.

  “Anyway. Tonight, I just wanted to celebrate being alive and hang out with my brother, Miguel, and Simon. Then some asshole ruined it simply because he objected to me being me.”

  He ran a hand over his face. “Sorry to dump on you. You’re dealing with a lot worse.”

  “Maybe not. These last three years have been remarkably asshole free for me.” The observation was truthful, but a little ridiculous humor was trying to bubble up again.

  Unexpectedly, he laughed, quick and loud, and something melted within her. She’d amused him! He’d liked her joke!

  Then he sobered just as quickly, and she immediately missed the brightness of his smile and the way his eyes crinkled up behind his glasses. “Oh, one final thing. Libby Adrial was the cop who handled the incident at the bar.” Avery’s words were unexpected. "She apparently knows Simon."

  "Yeah, she does. She used to tell stories about him at clan gatherings." Tara considered that for a moment, then speculated, “She must have moved back up here to Payson. A cop's a new identity for her. Her old one was a ninety-year-old woman with an art gallery down in Bisbee. Elves aren’t immortal, but they have a lifespan of about six or seven times ours, so to remain hidden, they need to reinvent themselves every so often or live entirely apart from society. Most choose the former. There’s a hermit or two way out in the middle of nowhere, though.”

  “Must be a challenge for them with modern record-keeping. How do they handle driver's licenses, social security numbers, and so forth?”

  “So, I’m not supposed to know this, but they create make-believe children, complete with registering them for real birth certificates. A few elves are licensed midwives or doctors, so they just document fake home births, and, if necessary, they’ll use illusion to make it appear the children exist. Like, if the neighbors get nosy or something like that. The make-believe kids are ‘homeschooled,’ and when those nonexistent ‘kids’ are adults, adult elves assume the identity they forged.”

  Tara shrugged. “They even create extra fake kids in case new elves come through a portal. Surviving on Earth’s easier for the dai’sheea than in Eastland, so they’ve slowly been helping more of their kind across, one or two a year, and scattering them into little enclaves across the world. The Gifted ones don’t survive in cities well; the leys are too screwed up and they tend to hurt themselves trying to use magic.”

  “Wow. So if somebody has the surname of Adrial, they’re likely an elf?”

  “Or, married to one, or a distant descendant. That wouldn’t make the spouse clan, but that doesn’t stop women from using a husband’s surname. Descendants aren’t always considered clan either.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen that name around, I guess.”

  “I think a couple of hundred of them are in the Rim Country, mostly living on a ranch off the Control Road, and some up in White Mountains with enough elven blood to be clan, plus their descendants and spouses. There’s more up in the Rockies, and a big population in Oregon. They look for remote country where they can get off the grid and away from civilization. A few more arrive every year.

  “Nadria, that’s the elder spirit in the Book, has a potent portal-making talent, and, while they do have other ways to open portals, the Book was the easiest. I was supposed to inherit the Book because that’s what both Nadria and Granny wanted, along with a big ranch, and that seriously pissed Libeza off because she felt both the land and the Book should stay with the clan.

  “And, maybe things would have been different for me; maybe they’d have decided to include me in their world if I still had the Book and Nadria was backing me, but... well, Todd stole it from me, and he threatened to shoot us and curse any survivors if we tried to get it back, then his mom said she’d call the cops if we didn’t leave ‘cuz we had no proof her son was a thief. Both of them meant it. Granny said let it be; Nadria could deal with him, and the Book would make its way back to me eventually. Libby’s always blamed me for the book being stolen. Granny said it was just fated to be.”

  “Mind. Blown. There are really elves among us?” He seemed fixated on that.

  “You’ve met Simon and Libby.”

  “Well, and it sounds like you are one too...” he trailed off uncertainly.

  “My ancestry’s so slight it doesn’t matter, according to Libby. I was lucky to see into their world as a kid, but I’ll never be one of them. They've made their feelings known, and I don’t want to claim to be part elf when I’m not welcome by the clan, and I pass for fully human. Factoring in a couple more recent elven ancestors than Libby, I’m maybe 10-15% elven.” She didn’t even try to keep the bitterness from her voice. She didn’t want to be an elf, but they’d utterly rejected and betrayed her after Granny had died — and she’d desperately needed them. Maybe she’d lost the Book, but she’d also been a kid with an awful family, living in grinding poverty, who they knew and who’d asked for the help of people who were the closest thing to kin she might have had. Not only had they refused solely because Libby deemed her Not Clan, but they’d stolen the ranch she should have inherited.

  Avery made a face. “Okay, I get that. My father was adopted. When I was a kid, he reached out to his bio-mom’s side — we don’t know who his bio-dad is, she’d never say. They seemed cool at first, and I thought I was getting a bonus grandma and family. The Pazia family’s small, so it was neat to be part of huge family gatherings, with four or five generations and lots of other kids. But then I came out as queer, and they completely rejected both of us, me because I was quote-unquote ‘gay’ and my dad because he had my back.”

  Tara pressed her lips together. “My mother tried to get the elves to accept her and demanded they teach her their ways and magic, and she does look elven; she’s got the cheekbones and the eyes and super pale skin. They completely shut her out. I haven’t talked to her since I was a kid, but Granny would go see her occasionally. She’s living in a yurt in the woods in California now, pretending she has powerful magic, and claims clan ties that aren’t actually hers. Granny said she only has a few wisps of a Gift, just in Sight. Nothing at all projective, like enchantments or illusions.”

  “Yeah.” Avery shook his head. “My dad’s bio-dad is probably not entirely white. My father was a lot darker than I am. I really take after my mom, and she’s pasty-pale Irish with crazy red curls — if you knew my dad, you can see I share some of his heritage, but I pretty much look like a standard white dude to most of the world. I’ve always wondered about that part of my family tree, but if I ever found out, I would never do something that cringe, like try to claim I’m something I’m not.”

  “Heh. Yeah.”

  He tilted his head sideways, then said, “What would happen if an evil wizard turned you into an elf rather than a grimalkin? Would they accept you then?”

  Was he teasing her? Suspiciously, she studied his expression. His sharp cheekbones were outlined in the moon’s white light. His eyes were guileless. She gave him a straight answer. “It wouldn’t matter. I could be born pure elven, and if humans raised me, they’d be wary of me.”

  “So Simon wouldn’t be accepted by them, then, since he was raised by humans?”

  She shook her head. “I’d like to say no, but he’s Libby’s nephew, and she’s talked about him a lot, usually in the context of bragging about the accomplishments of this kid none of us knew and she hadn’t seen in way over a century. She’s always made exceptions to the rules for her immediate family.”

  Avery was standing with his arms folded tight to his chest now, and as she watched, his chin quivered. He looked cold, and the night was growing chilly — and she was feeling a little overwhelmed after their conversation. Seizing on the excuse, she said roughly, “Avery, before you freeze, you should go.”

  That had been more awkward than she intended. He gave her a sharp look before nodding. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Are you sure there's nothing you need? Fresh food? I can get you a propane camp stove, or do you already have one from the hoard? Warm clothes? A winning lottery ticket?”

  She narrowed her eyes. Since he was asking and was so insistent about buying her supplies that it was becoming annoying, she said bluntly, “Tampons.”

  He didn’t blush. He simply said, “What kind?”

  She ducked her head. That had been a bit passive-aggressive, perhaps. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She shouldn't have said anything. She’d just given him massive fuel to tease her if he wanted to. “Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s just that there aren’t any in Mrs. Riley’s hoard. She must not have needed them. I’ve had to... improvise.”

  There was no hint of irritation in his voice. “I’ll pick up what you need.”

  “Err.” She told him the brand.

  He pulled out his phone, and tapped in a quick note to himself. “Do you need them right away, or is tomorrow okay?”

  “Yeah. Uh. Tomorrow’s fine. Thank you.”

  He honked twice as he left, a cheery sound. She stared after him, then clapped a hand over her face. The guy was being nothing but nice, and she’d just tried and failed to make him squirm, for no real good reason — she didn’t even understand her own motive, except that she’d never been comfortable with sharing personal stuff. It had always been weaponized against her. She knew she tended to lash out first when she was afraid she’d be hurt...

  Avery hadn’t intended to hurt her, though. She wasn’t even sure that he’d recognized that she was attempting to offend him and drive him away by asking for feminine necessities.

  She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to look him in the eyes again.