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Rina glanced over at a small handful of customers who were browsing the shelves. "Go wait in my office. I'll be there in a few moments," she said, pointing us to a door down a short hallway behind the counter.
Delilah and I strolled down the hall and into the room. It was sparsely furnished, with an ornate love seat against one wall, a bookshelf next to it, and a big walnut desk and leather chair filling the rest of the cubicle. I curled up on the love seat and glanced at Delilah. The beginnings of a headache were creeping around at the back of my mind, but I had a vague sense that it was connected to something other than lack of sleep. There was something out of whack.
"Do you sense anything strange?" I asked.
"Strange as in how?"
"Oh, energy… smell… something's wrong, and I'm not sure what."
Delilah paused, sniffing the air. She closed her eyes for a moment and then cocked her head. Her shoulders stiffened, and she rushed to the door, jiggling the knob. "We're locked in," she whispered. "What's going on?">By the time I opened my eyes, the sunlight was spilling through my curtains, and the smell of bacon and eggs wafted up the stairs. I winced. My neck hurt from being kinked too far to the right, but the ache was nothing in comparison to the sated feel in the pit of my stomach. I luxuriated as I rolled out of bed. I hadn't felt this good in a long, long time.
The other side of my bed was empty. After our tryst, Trillian had returned to OW to talk to my father. So I was back to dancing with the devil. But the smile on my face was too bright for that thought to quench my good mood as I glanced at the clock. Ten a.m. Oh hell, the store!
I slid into a plum chiffon skirt that flirted with the tops of my knees and pulled on a pale gray cashmere sweater. Zipping up my knee-high stiletto suede boots, I hurried downstairs as I fumbled with my hair, managing to corral the tumbling curls into a thick ponytail. Delilah was waiting, bright-eyed, with breakfast on the table.
"I am so hungry." I slid into my chair and snagged a piece of bacon off the platter. "Thanks. I'm running late."
Delilah wrinkled her nose. She was dressed in a pair of flare-legged jeans and a patchwork peasant shirt in shades of blue and ivory. Thick-soled platform ankle boots raised her to soaring heights. "I think you should call Iris today. We have to start looking for Tom Lane."
I'd hoped to find some word waiting from OIA when I woke up, but there were no messages from either Chase or Trillian.
"I guess you're right. We don't have a moment to waste." I picked up the phone and put in a call on the private shop line to Iris.
"Hey, can you run the shop today? We have OIA business."
Iris jotted down notes as I ran through what she needed to know, then promised to call and leave a status report at the end of the day. She spoke perfect English, even though she'd spent most of her life in Finland, where her kin had bound themselves to a family of humans, coexisting peacefully until the family had died out last generation. With no one left to tend, Iris had signed up with the OIA, and they'd left her Earthside, since she knew the world so well.
Delilah and I lingered over breakfast, Delilah writing up a to-do list while I applied my makeup. A sweep of soft brown shadow, an outline of liquid black liner around my eyes, several coats of mascara on my already-lengthy eyelashes. Finally, I rouged my lips with a deep merlot color and blinked.
"That's better," I said, staring in my hand mirror.
"You're chipper this morning," Delilah said. "Now, what do we need to do?" She held her pencil at the ready.
"Well, we need to find out more about Tom Lane, but I'm afraid that may be a common name over here."
"It is," she said. "I already looked him up while waiting for you. There are several Tom Lanes in Seattle and the surrounding areas. And if he truly lives near the mountain, we have to remember that he might not have a phone."
Delilah buttered another piece of toast and bit into it. She had a healthy appetite and worked it off without a problem. "Maybe some of the local Fae have heard of him and know something."
I cautiously licked the taste of bacon off of my fingers, taking care not to muss my lipstick. "You're thinking Tom and the seal might have become an urban legend?"
"Hey, what about Rina? She lives in Seattle, and if I remember right, she was a historian back in OW." Delilah gave a little purp of excitement. I could tell she was proud of herself.
"Rina? Who's that?" And then I remembered. A few years back, Rina—a member of the Court and Crown—had slept with the King. That in itself wasn't a crime. The problem was that she'd failed to ask permission from the Queen first, and Lethesanar wasn't known for leniency toward thieves of the royal treasures—be they gemstone or consort. Lethesanar had banished Rina to Earth, forbidding her to return to Otherworld.
"Oh, I'd forgotten about her," I said, wondering what Rina had been up to since her spectacular—and fiery—departure from the Court. I'd witnessed that blowup, and it taught me a valuable lesson about "borrowing" the property of the royal family. "Do you know where she is?"
Delilah popped open her laptop and began tapping away, her fingers moving with a speed that made me cringe. She'd learned to type the moment she knew we were headed Earthside, but I'd passed on the opportunity.
"Here she is—I've got a file on expatriates living Earthside. Hey, she doesn't live far from the store. She runs an antique shop and lives over it."
"Is she a member of OIA?" I asked.
"Nope," Delilah said, shaking her head. "The Queen would chew a cow if Rina was given any sort of official status. Lethesanar's grudges run deep."
I gathered my purse and keys. "Should we go visit her?"
Delilah closed her laptop and slipped it into her shoulder bag. "Why not? Afterward, we can pop in on Louise Jenkins and talk to her. By the time Menolly wakes up tonight, we should have more information to go on." She followed me to the door, eying me closely. "How are you doing this morning? I notice Trillian wasn't around at breakfast." It was a question, not a statement.
