Key of Light (Key 1)

“Don’t look,” Flynn snapped before Dana could turn around. “You’ll just encourage her.”

“Flynn, why don’t you just fire her ass? You take entirely too much crap off her.”

“She’s been with the Dispatch since she was eighteen. That’s a long time. Now, while I appreciate you dropping in to tell me how to handle my employee problems, I need to finish this.”

Dana just stretched out her endless legs. “She really stirred you up this time, huh?”

“Fuck it.” He blew out a breath, then yanked open his desk drawer to hunt up a bottle of aspirin.

“You do a good job here, Flynn.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered as he dug a bottle of water out of another drawer.

“Shut up. I’m serious. You’re good at what you do. As good as Liz was. Maybe better at some areas of it because you’re more approachable. Plus you’re a better writer than anybody you’ve got on staff.”

He eyed her while he washed the aspirin down. “What brought this on?”

“You look really bummed.” She couldn’t stand to see him seriously unhappy. Irritated, confused, pissed off, or surly was fine. But it hurt her heart to see misery etched on his face. “Pleasant Valley needs the Dispatch, and the Dispatch needs you. It doesn’t need Rhoda. And I bet knowing that just sticks in her craw.”

“You think?” The idea of that smoothed out the raw edges. “The sticking-in-the-craw part, I mean.”

“You bet. Feel better?”

“Yeah.” He capped the water bottle, dropped it back in the drawer. “Thanks.”

“My second good deed for the day. I’ve just spent an hour at Malory’s, and another twenty minutes wandering around trying to decide if I should dump on you or just keep it between us girls.”

“If it has to do with hairstyles, monthly cycles, or the upcoming Red Tag sale at the mall, keep it between you girls.”

“That’s so incredibly sexist, I’m not even going to . . . what Red Tag sale?”

“Watch for the ad in tomorrow’s Dispatch. Is something wrong with Malory?”

“Good question. She had a dream, only she doesn’t believe it was a dream.”

Dana related the discussion before digging in her bag for the typed account Malory had given her. “I’m worried about her, Flynn, and I’m starting to worry about me, because she’s got me half convinced that she’s right.”

“Quiet a minute.” He read it through twice, then sat back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “What if she is right?”

Exasperation spiked into her voice. “Do I have to start playing Scully to your Mulder? We’re talking about gods and sorcery and the capture of souls.”

“We’re talking about magic, about possibilities. And possi

bilities should always be explored. Where is she now?”

“She said she was going to The Gallery, to do some research on the painting.”

“Good. Then she’s sticking with the plan.”

“You didn’t see her.”

“No, but I will. What about you? Dig anything up?”

“I’m tugging a few lines.”

“Okay, let’s all meet at my place tonight. Let Zoe know, I’ll tell Mal.” When Dana frowned at him, he only smiled. “You came to me, honey. I’m in it now.”

“I really owe you for this . . . .”