Bedeviled (38 page)
Culhane blew out a frustrated breath. This, Maggie was used to. She got it a lot from Culhane and the nasty-ass pixie Bezel, who was still living in the oak tree in her backyard.
How did her life turn into a paranormal soap opera?
“It is your destiny.”
“Right. Well, destiny can get in line,” Maggie snapped, stepping off the ladder and walking to the array of paints she had lined up neatly against the building. Culhane was always pulling out the destiny card. “I’ve got sixteen more windows to do before Christmas, and in case you didn’t know, Thanksgiving is next week and I’m gonna have to do that, too, because Nora’s got some kind of weird flu, which I think your stupid Fae warrior Quinn gave her.”
“The Fae do not get sick.”
“They’re just carriers?” Maggie frowned, picked up another brush, swirled it into the blue paint and stood up again, still frowning as blue tempera paint slid off the brush and onto her hand.
Her sister Nora had been sick for days and refused to go to a doctor—which was probably just as well because she was having so much Faery sex lately that Quinn’s powers were sort of overtaking her, and Nora kept floating at odd moments. How would they explain
that
to the doctor? So, with Nora sick, her daughter Eileen had been spending more time with Maggie because if Nora had some weird Faery plague, they didn’t want Eileen getting it. Which meant that Maggie was getting to listen to play-by-play descriptions of life in middle school and which boy was the cutest and which girl had it in for Eileen.
Not to mention she had a crabby-ass pixie eating all of her damn chocolate.
God, even thinking about everything going on in her life made her tired. “I
sooo
don’t have time to be queen.”
“Time or not, you
are
the queen, Maggie, and nothing can change that. You must come with me.”
Culhane grabbed her arm. The minute his hand touched her, Maggie felt a blast of heat that shot straight through her system and down to her hoo-hah. Energized with expectation, her hormones did the little clog dance of happiness and started to make her ache with a need that she knew wasn’t going to get answered any time soon.
Fabulous. Because what she really needed to make this day complete was feeling so horny it hurt.
“God, Culhane, go bug somebody else, will ya? I’m busy here.”
He ignored that. Big surprise.
“The Banshee contingents are insisting on speaking with you.”
“Banshees have contingents? I thought they just went around screaming when people died.”
He smiled and damn, that quick grin had a way of making her knees wobble. “They do. They want a wider territory. They’ve been in Ireland for millennia. They want to move to the New World.”
“The
New World
? Who’re you, Columbus? It’s not the New World, Culhane.”
“It is to us.”
“Fine,” she said, pulling free of his grip, though she hated to disappoint her hormones, who were now wearing party hats. “Let ’em leave Ireland. What do I care?”
“Maggie, you must learn. The Banshee cannot leave Ireland for here. If they do, it will create a war with the Cree-An.”
“The
who
?”
Grumbling under his breath, Culhane shook his hair back from his face and said, “The Cree-An have been haunting on this ground for centuries. If the Banshee invade, the war will spill into the world of human dreams and the nightmares they cause will follow them into the waking.”
“Freaking nightmare faeries now?” Maggie groaned and looked up and down the suddenly deserted street as if searching for an escape. She didn’t find one. Though it made her wonder where in the hell everyone had gone. She didn’t even hear the low rumble of skateboard wheels on cement anymore. Weird.
Shaking her head, she demanded, “What the hell am I supposed to do about all of that?”
“You must
listen
,” he said for what had to be the twelve millionth time in the last couple of weeks. “Make compromises. Give the Banshee England. The Cree-An do not like the British. They think them unimaginative and old-world.”
“Fabulous. Faery prejudice.”
“I know this is a lot,” Culhane said, moving in close to her, crowding Maggie enough that every breath she took, she drew in the scent of him.
Damn, he smelled good.
“But you will learn, Maggie. You will be the queen that destiny has named you.”
“What if I don’t wanna be?” she countered, held her breath and risked looking directly into his eyes. Oh
God
, he really was way too gorgeous. “What if all I want is to be me, Maggie Donovan, failed artist and glass painter extraordinaire?”
His hands moved to cup her face, and Maggie felt that touch right down to the soles of her feet. Oh, that probably wasn’t a good sign, she thought. Why did it have to be Culhane who could turn her into a puddle of needy goo? Why couldn’t she have fallen for a nice plumber? Why did it have to be a Fae warrior who made her want to toss her panties into the air?
“You are so much more than
just
Maggie Donovan. It is in your blood, your heart, your very soul.” He bent his head, and his breath brushed her cheek. “You are the one, Maggie. The only one—”
“You are
not
gonna believe this, Mags.”
Maggie looked past Culhane to see her sister, Nora, leaning up against her Fae lover. Great. More people popping in and out. Pushing away from Culhane, Maggie walked to her sister. “Nora? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” She looked up and down the street again and demanded, “And where the hell did everybody else go?”
“They did not go anywhere,” Culhane grumbled, glaring at the other Fae. “Quinn has enchanted the street, blocking us from being seen and from seeing anyone else. Which he should not have done. Using magic in this world is always dangerous.”
“Enchantments. Great. Fabulous. What next?” Maggie asked.
“Better than having people watch me float,” Nora muttered, and swallowed hard, lifting one hand to her mouth. “Oh God, my chakras are
sooo
out of alignment.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Maggie looked from Nora to Culhane to Quinn. “If I’m the damn queen, somebody
talk
to me.”
“Get off my back, your freaking
majesty
,” Nora snapped. “I’m feeling puky and pregnant right now, so back off.”
“Pregnant?” Maggie shook her head and blinked at her sister. “You’re
pregnant
?”
“I am proud,” Quinn announced.
“I’m sick,” Nora moaned.
“I’m speechless,” Culhane added.
“Well, I’m not,” Maggie yelled, turning on him. “If Fae sperm is that fast-acting, you can just keep your sexy Fae body far, far away from me!”
About the Author
Maureen Child
is the award-winning author of more than one hundred romance novels and often says she has the best job in the world. A six-time RITA nominee, Maureen lives with her family in Southern California.
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