“Yes, you’re right. I just worried…” He sighed in relief. “It would’ve been fine, of course. This is your house and your yard and, by default, your flowers. I just champion for the grounds. And I did put in that row near the wood to hopefully slow him down so I could try to reserve my future prizewinners, but I wanted to nip the situation in the bud…” He lifted his eyebrows and chuckled. “Get it? Because we’re talking about flowers?” Austin turned to look at him with a blank stare. “Anyway, I was hoping to put some parameters on the feeding frenzy. If it had been him, of course. I wasn’t accusing him, just wondering, that’s all.”

I stopped myself from laughing. “If I trade for flowers again, Edgar, you’ll be in on the negotiations this time.”

“Oh, good. Yes, that’s comforting.” He put his hand out. “I remain your humble servant, of course, merely in charge of growing your flowers, not ruling them.”

Austin continued to stare, no expression. It was the look he favored when dealing with Edgar. Laughter slipped out of me.

“If you do strike another bargain, I’ll put together a nice little buffet for him,” Edgar went on. “I have some real delectable treats. I’d love to plan his courses, even.” He steepled his hands against his lips and bowed his head. “If I might be allowed.”

Austin shook himself out of the moment. “I’ll wait for you out front,” he said to me.

I laughed harder and put my hand against his popping bicep. “No, it’s fine. We’re done. Right, Edgar? There was nothing else?”

“That was it. I just wanted to get my ducks in a row. I’ll go ahead and make up a concoction to kill those deer—”

“Wait, what?” I pulled my hand away from Austin. “No, Edgar, you can’t kill the deer! Use a spray or something to keep them away.”

“Oh no, Jessie, if a rogue deer has developed a taste for my flowers, that’s the end of it. They’re a real pest. It’s like a drug to them. That’s why I was a little concerned about that basajaun. I don’t want to be immodest, but I am the lawn and gardens county winner at the home and garden festival every year. Killing it is the only way.”

My mouth dropped open. “No. You cannot… I thought you said deer don’t even typically like magical flowers?”

“They usually don’t, no, but every once in a while… You’ve heard of man-eating lions, haven’t you?” He tilted his head at me as if to denote there was a very real, very detrimental connection between the two phenomena. Austin was back to staring. “Once they get a taste for human flesh, that’s all they want. Same with those deer and my flowers. It’s safer to just put them down.”

“Don’t kill the deer,” Austin said, and a whip crack of power infused his words, the alpha in him demanding obedience.

Edgar’s jaw snapped shut. He bowed under Austin’s hard stare. “Yes, alpha. But please realize that I cannot be held responsible for the creatures constantly loitering around like groupies. I wash my hands of this.”

A silent beat followed, in which Austin and I stood staring at each other in the lovely March sunlight. Winter had been cold and sometimes harsh, compared to what I was used to in L.A., but it had rolled away pretty quickly, giving way to sunshine and the sea of flowers around us.

“Okay then.” I nodded, turned, and strode for the front of the house. There really wasn’t much more to say and do in this situation. Gotta stay away from those brain bubbles.

“I think he has gotten weirder,” Austin murmured as he caught up. “Man-eating lions and deer hanging around like groupies? What is he talking about?”

“Best not to question for too long. And it might not even be deer.”

Austin shook his head as we made our way to the front yard. Niamh sat on her porch across the way, rocking in her chair next to the pile of rocks she kept on hand in case a tourist happened to wander down the street to look at Ivy House. That poor tourist would quickly learn what an amazing shot Niamh was with those rocks.

“He really has gone overboard with the flower production.” Austin glanced at the flowers lining the little walkway that cut close to the house in the front before joining up with the main walkway to the front porch. “The smell is overwhelming.”

“Yeah. I need to have Mr. Tom talk Edgar back a bit.”

“Why didn’t you just mention something back there?”

“Every time he messes up, he asks me to kill him. I don’t want to send him into another existential crisis.”

“Jesus,” Austin murmured, and his tone made giggles dance up through me.

“Anyway, what do you need?”

He stopped on the porch and looked out over the street, the late afternoon sun trickling down through the maple trees and speckling the sidewalk. “Do you have a couple of hours?”

“A couple of hours?” I checked my watch, three o’clock, then looked back at the closed front door. “Well, given I have no job other than learning magic and monitoring the gardening of a partially insane vampire, I do happen to have some free time, yes. Especially since we agreed to take a couple of days off from training so you can heal.” I chewed on my lip, guilt worming through me again. “How are you doing, by the way?”

He waved the question away. “There is nothing partial about that vampire’s insanity.” Austin jerked his head toward the house. “Do you need to tell your entourage?”

“Will we be in town?”

“Yes.”

“Then nah, I’m good with just you and whatever shifters of yours pop out of the woodwork. Let’s see if they can find me.”

“I don’t have anyone official yet.” He reached out to put his hand on the small of my back, ready to direct me. “But yeah, we’ll be good.”

The door opened slowly to reveal Mr. Tom, his tuxedo-clad chest puffed out, his pants freshly pressed, and his wings falling down his back like a cape. One hand balanced a silver tray bearing a single white envelope, and the other was fisted by his side.

“Miss. Before you leave without proper protection, putting yourself in potentially grave danger, I have a piece of post for you,” he said.

My expression flattened. I felt it. “Were you listening to our conversation at the door, Mr. Tom?”

“From the front room window, actually. It is the easiest way to know what you are up to without having to ask.”

Austin was staring again. I had a feeling this was not the way he planned to run his pack.

“I’ll grab it when I get back.” I motioned Austin down the walkway.

“I think you’ll want to read it, miss. It’s from your mother. She wants to come visit.”

I froze, only one step having been taken. “What do you mean she wants to come visit? How— Did you read my mail?”

“What an amazing singing range you must have, miss, with the vocal pitch of that last question.” Mr. Tom sniffed. “I merely scanned the contents to ensure it was not a death threat. After that note from Elliot Graves, I thought it best to start monitoring your mail to ensure none of the messages posed an immediate danger. Magical people can be unhinged…”

“He would know,” Austin murmured.

“I also feared a bill or request for money might arrive and go ignored. Sometimes our past lives can come back to haunt us. Since you seem pretty hands-off about monetary matters…”

I dropped my mouth open, about to explode. Hands-off? I always tried to pay for things, but whenever Mr. Tom was around, and he was always around, he would literally push me aside in his haste to take care of the tab. I had no idea what kind of money was available to the estate because he refused to show me any statements or give me access to the bank accounts that were now supposedly mine, simply telling me the estate paid for itself. I wasn’t sure what sort of hands-on approach would get me any further.

I swallowed down my annoyance and reached for the envelope. I didn’t feel like getting into it with him in front of Austin. “No, Mr. Tom, I don’t have any creditors looking to get paid,” I said dryly.

“Fantastic, miss. But you do have two parents who wish to see what you are up to. I shall roll out the red carpet.”

I’d barely lifted the letter from the tray when he turned back into the house and closed the door behind him, not responding to my shouted denial that they were coming.

“Oh, and miss…” Mr. Tom stuck his head out of the door again. “They’ll be staying a week, or maybe two. Their toilet broke and flooded part of the house. Your mother launched into a rant about the lack of fiber in your father’s diet, but you can read that yourself. They are scheduled to get here in three days’ time. I’ll pick up the essentials. Have fun. I’ll alert those on bodyguard detail that you’re leaving.”

The door closed again with a soft click.

My parents were coming.

My non-magical parents were coming to a magical house.

How the hell was I supposed to keep what I was a secret?

Two

“Do your parents usually write letters to communicate instead of calling?” Austin asked as we set out toward town.

I’d skimmed the letter, shaken my head at the detailed fiber assessment, and stuffed it into my back pocket. Mr. Tom had gotten the details correct. They were definitely coming. The letter had been more of a statement of intent than a request.

“Here…” Niamh sat forward in her porch rocking chair as we passed, her thumb and forefinger curled around a rock. “What are ye at?”

“Headed into town,” Austin called.

She leaned back and continued rocking. “Let me know when ye head to the bar.”

The prospect of my parents’ upcoming visit had sent my thoughts into a downward spiral, and when I turned and looked back at Ivy House, I tried to see it as they would. An unnatural, heavy shadow fell over the massive structure, just like always, and light perpetually glowed from the top window in the attic even though that light was never on. Before my parents even got to the house, the judgments would start. I could just hear them now.