Andre was probably the best role model I could ask for when it came to my son. Not only was he a good man (as far as I knew anyway), but he could also show Finn what it looked like to be a man with a lot of power, and how to use that power responsibly.

  Andre watched as Finn began running again and Ouire romped after him, but his smile faded around the edges when he looked over at me again.

  “Six,” he said, quietly.

  I paused, confused. “Six? What do you mean?”

  His blue eyes suddenly had a serious cast as he gestured towards Finn where he lay among the leaves, a wiggling Ouire on his chest.

  “I saw a number six near his collarbone. That means he’s mastered another trick.”

  I froze, my mind going blank. Whenever a Magician learned a new trick, a tattooed number appeared somewhere on their skin. Andre tended to wear towards long sleeves for that exact reason, but he’d rolled them up the last time we met to show me the black numbers covering his flesh. The numbers were apparently harmless, but it had been one of the things that freaked me out the most about Finn learning magic, because tattooed numbers? Well, they were a real, physical change anyone could see in him. Magic was literally branding my son.

  And now, Finn had a new number.

  I shook my head hard enough that the braid I’d pulled my hair back into slid over my shoulders. “How is that possible? You’ve had Ouire so how in the world could Finn have learned another trick if he didn’t even have your book?”

  Andre sighed, raking his hand back through his hair until it ruffled up into spikes. “The only way is if Finn’s learned how to dream walk.”

  “Dream walk?” I repeated, my mouth falling open.

  Andre nodded. “If he’s pulled that off, then it’s entirely possible he’s meeting with Ouire without consulting either of us.”

  “But… how… I don’t even understand what that means.”

  Andre inhaled deeply and nodded. “Quite literally, it means Finn’s learning magic in his sleep—he’s taking control of his dreams and dictating what he wants to do with them.”

  My throat and mouth went cotton dry. I had to swallow twice before I could speak again. “But… how? He’s only thirteen! You said you didn’t start practicing magic until you were seventeen!”

  Andre tilted his head in acknowledgment and braced his hands on his hips. “Finn is going to be one hell of a Magician one day, Poppy. He’s already outstripped most of the potential and practicing Magicians I’ve seen in recent years.” He was quiet for a few seconds as his eyes settled on my son again. Then he looked up at me. “And that’s including me.”

  “But, I…” I lost the words as I looked at my son and watched him frolic with his strange little friend, all the while wondering how it was possible he’d grown up so quickly. Only yesterday I could remember him searching for snails in the garden and then getting annoyed when they got snail goop all over his fingers. I looked up at Andre again. “He’s learning faster than you did?”

  Andre nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Much, much faster. I only learned one trick a year until I reached my late twenties. These days, I can pick up as many as five or six in a year, but it still takes quite a bit of effort on my part. Finn shows a real natural aptitude for the work. He’s a magical prodigy, if you will.”

  Ice crawled down my spine, and it had nothing to do with a trick or a spell. Fear curdled in my stomach, clenching tight. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging tightly. “I don’t want him to be a magical prodigy.” Even though I meant to think the words, they were out of my mouth before I could take them back.

  Andre turned to look at me, his brow creased with emotion.

  “I want him to take this slowly.” I swallowed, clutching my elbows as I fought to keep the tears back. The last thing I wanted was to lose control of myself again—I was more than sure Andre hadn’t signed up to deal with a kid who was coming into his power and his basket case mother. “I want him to learn to do things responsibly.”

  And if Finn could learn from Ouire while he was unconscious, then what could I do about it? Short answer—pretty much nothing. I had less control over Finn now than I’d even realized. He’d been sneaking out of the house, in his dreams, for however long, and I hadn’t even had the tiniest of clues.

  Andre nodded slowly, seeming to really think over what I was saying. It made a little bit of the ice thaw, that he wasn’t dismissing my concerns right away, even though I could tell he was incredibly excited about the prospect of Finn’s magical ability.

  “You’re right.”

  “I…” I turned to face him. “I am?”

  He nodded as he lifted one long-fingered hand and rubbed at his chin, considering. “Finn needs someone who can teach him how to handle this magic, not just how to do tricks. He has real ability and without narrowly guiding that ability, it could be… well, let’s just say it’s an option we don’t want him to take.”

  I didn’t even know what to say to that and my absolute fear must have shown on my face because Andre reached out and took my hand. Instantly, I felt a wash of calm overtake me and I could breathe again.

  “Finn needs a tutor who specializes in Magician magic, my dear,” he continued.

  I felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in my throat and only just managed to swallow it back. “And just where am I going to find someone who could tutor him?”

  Magicians weren’t exactly common. They were rare even for supernatural types. They were one of the only mortal magic users in the world, and they were unusual enough that I’d never even heard of them until five months ago—until the moment Andre walked into my life and threw it on its head. Even Wanda, who’d been raised on magical lore, only knew them by passing mention. So, the question remained: where could I dig up a tutor for Finn? One that I could trust with my son?

  Andre smiled and rocked up onto the balls of his feet before dropping back down. “You’re looking at him.”

  The surprise left me breathless. That’s what it was: the surprise.

  “You?” I managed at last.

  Andre looked a little taken aback and chuckled. “You seem quite underwhelmed.”

  “No,” I said immediately, shaking my head. “No… that’s not what I…” I cleared my throat. “You would do that? You’d tutor Finn?” My voice came out small, and closer to awed than I was strictly comfortable with.

  Andre shrugged those broad shoulders, but the hint of pink dusting the tops of his cheekbones made him look a touch bashful as he did so. “Maybe this is… well, my calling.”

  “Your calling?” I repeated, shaking my head because all of this was just too much to comprehend at the moment. “I thought you were—a travelling Magician?”

  “Well, I certainly am,” he started but then cocked his head to the side as he tapped his index finger against his chin. “But I wonder if such is what fate really had in store for me?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Andre sticking around to help Finn was the best-case scenario that I could have ever imagined. And not just because Andre was the only Magician I knew. It was because in my heart, in my soul, I felt I could trust Andre with my son. But having Andre here, in Haven Hollow, for the foreseeable future? Having him so close? The idea of it made my heart flutter like it had just grown wings and was ready to take off.

  Marty’s smiling face then drifted through my mind, and it was like a bucket of ice water thrown in my face.

  Whatever this was that I felt for Andre—I had to get it under control. I had to calm my feelings down and attempt to divorce myself from this giddiness that just seemed to take over me. I had to tap back into the calm and rational Poppy, wherever the hell she’d disappeared to.

  Andre clapped his hands together as if he’d just received the same visual of Marty’s smiling face (which, of course, was impossible) and cleared his throat, like he was suddenly embarrassed.

  “The question of fate and whether or not I’m meant to tutor Finn can wait for the time being,” he said, and I nodded, feeling like I needed a breather to contemplate the whole subject. “For now, we should all go out and get something to eat and celebrate Finn’s rather impressive accomplishments.”

  “We should?”

  He nodded. “We should. And perhaps we can address the problems you’ve been having. I believe you mentioned faeries?”

  “Oh. Right.” I blinked, taken a bit aback by the tone shift of the conversation. I wasn’t sure Finn’s sneaking off in dreams to learn magic behind my back was something I wanted to celebrate, but we did need to figure something out for dinner... “Alright,” I said, trying not to sound reluctant.

  I made a point to firmly hold a picture of Marty’s wide smile in my mind to keep myself from getting too excited at the prospect of spending more time with Andre. In fact, I was going to invite Marty to this dinner—just to keep my own feelings in perspective, to be above board, and to make sure Andre understood I had a boyfriend. Not that Andre cared, really, because I was fairly sure he wasn’t obsessing about me the way I was about him.

  God, was I obsessing about him?

  It sure seemed that way.

  Just one more thing to straighten out…

  Chapter Seven

  The Half-Moon Bar and Grill was hopping, but we managed to get a booth close to the back near the polished wood bar.

  For once, Roy wasn’t behind the bar. Instead, I caught sight of him, head and shoulders above anyone else in the place, moving through the crowd and checking on tables. He’d been having trouble being understaffed, but maybe that issue had cleared up if he was able to get out and do actual owner things.

  I gave him a little wave when he caught my eye and got a smile and a nod in return. Our breakup had been a long time ago, but it still felt a little uncomfortable to see one another, like pressing on a healing bruise. Yet, the breakup had been for the best, we’d both moved on, and I was beyond happy that I could always count on Roy to remain my friend—it was never bad to have a sasquatch in your corner.

  As to my current boyfriend… I’d called Marty to let him know we were going to grab something to eat with Andre and even invited him, but he was too busy setting up equipment at his most recent ghost-hunting gig—this one at the Haven Hollow library which was rumored to have the ghost of an angry librarian who refused to leave.

  When he’d said he wouldn’t be able to make it, I couldn’t exactly say why I was relieved, but I was all the same.

  When Shelby, the hostess, showed us to our booth, Finn slipped in right beside Andre, chattering happily about girls, school, and Ouire: any and everything going on in his life. He’d been disappointed we’d had to leave Ouire at the house, but it just wasn’t really possible to hide a magical book that acted like a dog in a restaurant, and while the Half-Moon was a popular place for the spookier side of town, it drew a pretty big mundane crowd, too. Roy, as the head of the Council, wouldn’t appreciate us bringing that kind of attention to his bar—to put it mildly.

  Andre for his part appeared not just tolerant, but actively interested in everything Finn was saying, asking questions that proved he wasn’t just hearing Finn, but was actually listening to him. Which didn’t help the soft, fluttery feeling in my chest at all.

  I found myself only half-listening to their conversation. Instead, I kept turning the idea of Finn dream walking over and over in my head. If Andre was right, and Finn had mastered a pretty rare magical ability at the age of thirteen, then what did that mean for him as a Magician? As to the fact that he might be a magical prodigy? I supposed it made a certain amount of sense, considering our heritage—magic tended to be far more dominant in women than men most of the time, but it did flow more strongly through Traveller bloodlines than other humans. Finn had always had his talents.

  But there was a big difference between being a human lie detector and going around flinging spells at magic users and monsters. One was liable to get you hurt, if not killed, while the other just made social gatherings awkward.

  What would those powers mean for Finn in the future? When he was sixteen? Twenty? Thirty? I was fairly sure that being a Magician was not only in his blood, but it was also what he wanted to pursue. And if he was dream walking to meet Ouire in order to learn even more tricks, then I doubted I could stop him, even if I grounded him until he was fifty.

  The uncomfortable thoughts caused me to pick at my dinner, shoving fries around on my plate, which was a shame because the food at the Half-Moon was really very good. Roy enjoyed food, and he always used the best ingredients for everything, most of it locally grown or sourced. Even the ice cream came from Stomper’s Creamery which was just up the street, run by a family of centaurs.

  It didn’t make anything easier that every few moments I found my hand twitching towards Andre’s where his rested on the table. I didn’t know what it was about this man but I felt like there were magnets beneath my skin and he was one gigantic piece of metal. I literally had to pull myself back from touching him. And that was weird.

  Yes, I’d always been a hugger. Traveller families tended to be a lot more physically touchy than your average North American. I liked to hug my friends, to press a kiss to my son’s forehead when his teenage pride would allow it, and I was about the most affectionate girlfriend I knew… actually, I wasn’t sure if Marty would have agreed with that, but I wasn’t touching that subject with a ten-foot-pole. Regardless, I’d never felt this type of need to reach out to another person—like it was an actual ache underneath my skin.

  I wanted to brush my fingers over the back of Andre’s hand, to slide my fingers between his, and press our palms together. I just had this super odd feeling that our hands would fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. The feeling, drive, and thoughts were almost overwhelming.

  God, Poppy, will you get it together! I yelled at myself. I didn’t know what in the heck had gotten into me but I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  The pull I felt towards Andre wasn’t exactly new. I’d noticed it before, the last time we were together. But sitting here now, it seemed stronger somehow, much harder to ignore anyway. I couldn’t stop my eyes from straying to the store room door across the room, remembering when Andre had performed in the Half-Moon as a stage magician, and I’d helped him with a trick and ended up pressed against him in that very back room as part of a disappearing act.

  I took a drink of water, trying to ease the Sahara Desert that my mouth had turned into.

  And of course, it didn’t make it one ounce easier that every time I couldn’t help but let my eyes drift towards Andre, I found him already looking at me. I could get lost in the clear blue of those eyes so darn easily…

  By the time dinner was done, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to go home so I could escape whatever this strange pull was to Andre or if I wanted to spend more time with him.

  “Do you want to split dessert?” Finn asked Andre eagerly.

  Andre glanced over the little laminated menu on the table, before looking at Finn again and there was surprise in his gaze. “You don’t want something just to yourself?”

  “Nah.” Finn crossed his arms on the table, leaning forward. “The pieces of cake here are huge, and I’m pretty full. But the chocolate cake is really good.”

  Andre grinned. “Chocolate cake is my favorite.”

  So, they ordered a slice to share, and I ordered myself a milkshake. I’d been looking forward to it throughout the whole dinner, and since I’d mostly managed to avoid staring at Andre like a love-sick teenage girl instead of a fully-grown, taken woman with a teenage son, I darn well deserved one.

  Plus, the ice cream from Stomper’s was the best I’d ever had. Stanley always proudly proclaimed it had something to do with the milk fat content and the number of eggs, but all I knew was that it was the absolute best. Really top-notch.

  By the time our waitress placed the four-layer cake concoction and my chocolate milkshake, complete with real whipped cream and a cherry, onto the table in front of us, my mouth was watering. Andre and Finn happily tucked into their dessert, and I stuck the red and white striped straw into my mouth, ready for that first hit of creamy delicious goodness.

  But instead of sweet, smooth milkshake, I got a mouthful of sour, curdled nightmare.

  I gagged, and it was all I could do not to spit the milkshake across the table.

  I scrabbled for a napkin, turning aside to discretely spit out the mouthful of rancid milk, and then fought back the wave of nausea that made my dinner want to follow it.

  As I tried to rinse my mouth by chugging my water, all around the restaurant, I heard sounds of disgust and cries of dismay. A little boy with less restraint than me spewed his sprinkle sunday onto the table across from us and then burst into tears. An older man choked on his forkful of whipped cream from his pumpkin pie. Someone else took a bite of their clam chowder and turned a terrifying green in the face.

  I craned around, watching, my brain scrambling to try to figure out just what in the world was going on. The food at the Half-Moon was flawless—I’d never had a bad meal once. Roy ran a tight ship in the kitchens, so I didn’t know how things could have gotten so bad.

  Then it hit me.

  All the food that people were currently choking up was dairy based. Each item contained some variation of milk or cream. And that was another faerie prank: to spoil milk. A particularly gross prank this time.

  “Mom?” Finn was looking around the restaurant, wide eyed.

  I took another drink of water, but the memory of curdled milk wasn’t going to fade anytime soon. “I need to go have a word with Roy. I’ll be right back.”

  Finn looked mutinous for a second, but when Andre just nodded, he eased back into his seat and they both just watched me as I pushed away from the table. Walking up to the bar, billfold in hand like I was just another customer looking to settle up the tab, I called for Roy’s attention. He looked harried, surrounded by wait staff who were doing everything they could to field customer complaints. And from the look of the restaurant, there were a lot of them. Roy gave a few murmured instructions, his voice growling deep, before he turned to face me.