Jennifer Crusie - The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes

She eased herself down and curled her legs up under her, which saved time when she had to minimize. Four legs, round body, a quiver of bristles. He couldn’t have likened her to a fawn. Maybe a kestrel. The air around her seemed to congeal. Sound sharpened, light intensified, and she could smell the charge of her power as it gathered. Lime. Lizzie got flowers. Mare got candy. She got a garnish.

Another charge shot along her nerves. Something alien that glittered a dozen colors behind her eyes. Was Lizzie setting something off downstairs? It was distracting her.

She’d find out later. Right now… Hedgehog.

The tingling began in her chest, a disruption that spread and congealed like the air, so that her blood slowed, settled. Her lungs contracted. Her skin shrank.

Hedgehog.

One last push and she should have it. The power coalesced. Her body fizzed and itched, trembling so hard she was sure her cells convulsed. She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapped her arms tightly around her legs, gathered that odd little animal deep until…

Poof!

She coughed. She opened her eyes. She found herself waving away the cloud of green fog that filled the room. With hands.

‘Damn.’

She stared at her fingers as if they’d betrayed her. She hadn’t changed. Something had thrown her off. ‘Dee?’

‘I’m going to try again.’

She tried three more times. All she got was a lot of fog and a couple of lame snapping sounds.

‘The green fog is a nice touch,’ Danny offered, sounding bemused somewhere inside the cloud. ‘It kinda matches the butterfly.’

Dee didn’t move from where she was curled up on the floor, her face in her arms. ‘Green is my color.’

Silence. She’d exhausted herself with the trying. She wanted to lie down. She wanted to eat chocolate and cry. She didn’t have the luxury. She’d wasted too much time already on this party trick.

‘I do love you,’ Danny whispered, and Dee realized he’d crouched down on his haunches right in front of her.

She lifted her head, miserable tears sliding down her cheeks. ‘I love you, too.’

He looked startled. ‘Really?’

She nodded, trying to keep from openly sobbing. I’m so sorry.’

He wiped at her tears. ‘Why?’

She wailed like a little girl. ‘Because now we’re going to have to have sex!’

‘God, no. Not that.’ He was grinning, the bastard. ‘It’s not a laughing matter.’

Gently, he reached over and pulled her to her feet. ‘If we have to have sex, then we’ll just have to take one for the team.’

‘Oh, Danny. You don’t understand. I shift when I have sex.’

‘Well, unless it’s into Jude Law, I don’t see a problem.’

Dee sighed. ‘I think you should. And don’t joke about Jude Law. The way Xan’s been screwing with things, he’s suddenly a candidate.’

He took a second to lift her hair behind her shoulders. ‘God, I love your hair. I’m dying to see you wearing nothing but that.’

Dee fiddled with his silver chain. ‘It can be arranged.’ There was a medal on the end that somehow came free of his shirt. ‘Saint Michael?’ It was still warm from his skin.

‘My mother gave me that,’ he said. ‘She said it would keep me safe.’

Carefully Dee tucked it back inside his shirt and gave it a pat. ‘Well, for your sake I hope Saint Michael stays on alert.’

‘Does that mean we’re having sex now?’

Dee shook her head. ‘I need to eat something,’ she said and sat back down to put on her shoes. ‘Misfires always make me hungry. Since Mare exploded all of Lizzie’s muffins, it’ll have to be something else. Nutritional value is strictly optional.’

Danny grabbed her shoes before she could and crouched before her. ‘I know a place we can get all the Nutter Butter bars you can swallow,’ he said. Lifting her foot, he fitted her shoe.

Dee blinked away new tears. He was putting on her shoes. ‘If you can also score me a giant order of onion rings, you have a deal. Don’t forget to double-knot. I’m tough on my shoes.’

He double-knotted. Then he brought her to her feet and dropped a kiss on her nose.

‘Thank you.’ Her smile was a bit watery.

He helped her slide her sweater back on. ‘We also need to call your aunt.’

She’d been all set to turn off the light. His words stopped her. ‘You really know how to bring a party to a crashing halt.’

‘You said you wanted to talk to her’

‘I don’t want to talk to her.’ Hitting the wall switch, she stalked out the door and down the stairs. ‘I want to find her before she finds me.’

Danny guided her down the stairs. ‘Then can we have sex?’

It was overcast and threatening by the time Lizzie made it home, and darker than it should be at two in the afternoon, and she moved fast, avoiding the neighbors. She didn’t have it in her to make cheery small talk. The tattoo was burning against the inside of her ankle. It wasn’t a painful burn, more of a needful throbbing. She didn’t want her mind to go in that direction, but then, life wasn’t going the way she wanted it to.

The purple satin sheets were still on her bed, and the wallpaper with its splash of flowers had disappeared, leaving the walls a rich, creamy shade, even in the darkness. She reached for the light switch and then stopped, the tattoo burning brighter, the amethyst resting against her heart pulsing with life. She looked down at the plain black Asian-style butterfly on her ankle, and it had turned a rich shade of purple, strong and beautiful, like her amethyst. It was as if the tattoo had claimed her, turning from stark black to the rich violet shade that made her think of endless nights and sex and impossible true love. How could a color mean all that?

It was dark in the workshop, the only light coming from the candle that sat in the middle of the circle he’d drawn on the workbench. The array was a new one, more complex than the one he’d used originally, and in the light of the candle his eyes glowed with a deep, lavender light.

He was wearing white, an open shirt and loose white pants, barefoot, watching her, and his dark blond hair was loose around his beautiful face.

‘I thought you weren’t coming back,’ she said. And then could have kicked herself. She wanted him back, no matter what she’d said, no matter what she’d told herself.

The teapot was sitting on the workbench, the porcelain Imari cups beside it. He filled hers without a word and held it out to her. And she knew if she took it there’d be no coming back.

She took the cup, careful not to touch his hand, and drank. The perfume filled her senses, spreading through her body, and the frantic pulse of the amethyst slowed, calmed, soothed.

‘I put a guard on the door. Your aunt can’t touch any of you.’

‘It’ll keep her out?’

He shrugged. ‘Xantippe shouldn’t be underestimated. But as long as the three of you are in this house she can’t touch you.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s a simple enough protection charm but surprisingly effective

‘Not why does it work. Why did you come back and set it?’

‘It’s not something that can be done from a distance.’

She set her teacup down. ‘You aren’t answering my question. Why did you come back and set a spell to protect us when you’re the one who betrayed us in the first place? And why are you still here?’

He didn’t answer her question. Instead he pulled up his loose pants leg. ‘I wondered if you could explain this? It suddenly appeared on my ankle, and I’m thinking it has something to do with you.’

She stared down at his feet. They were narrow, beautiful – she never thought she’d be thinking about a man’s feet. And then she saw the tattoo glowing on the inside of his ankle, a match to her Asian butterfly, deep purple and glowing.