Magical Midlife Love (Leveling Up 4)

“Speak for yourself, old woman.” Mr. Tom sniffed. “Most of us are housebroken.”

“Says the eejit who names his weapons.” Niamh shook her head and went back to looking for eggs. “Ye didn’t even think up good names, either. Who names a bludgeon Ron, fer feck’s sake?”

“People have spirit animals, and weapons have spirit people. How is that so hard to grasp? I simply evoked their human likenesses.”

“Ye and the vampire. Ye’ve both lost yer marbles. This house has gotten to yis. Why do ye think I never moved in? I know why.”

“You throw rocks at tourists. You don’t know why.”

Austin pulled himself away from the fight. When they got going, it was hard to drown them out.

He squeezed Jess’s arm again. “We’re in the same boat. We just have to do what we can with what we have.”

She laughed, but nervousness bled through the link. It felt muted, which meant she’d learned to turn it down. That was probably good. Hopefully it didn’t extend through bedtime…

“Good luck,” she said as he turned.

He stopped in front of Jimmy, the kid now in rapture, staring at the basajaun like, well, like someone who’d just found out Bigfoot was real. His gaze slowly shifted to Austin.

“Enjoy the rest of your day. The golden egg is at the center of the labyrinth, or near enough—”

“Austin Steele, that is cheating,” Mr. Tom chastised.

“Maybe have the basajaun go with you to find it,” Austin continued. “He can nearly see over the hedge. I will be here tomorrow for a proper send-off.”

“Okay.” Jimmy leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Just so you know, my mom’s dream has always been to find a man that cooks her dinner. She likes romance, too, like roses and candlelight and stuff. I mean, all girls do, right? But I’ve always heard her say that she loves the idea of a man in the kitchen.” His face colored. “I don’t know, she’s just always wanted someone to cook for her, I guess, and she never got it with my dad. My dad always said it wasn’t his job. I don’t think she liked that much. But, you know…” He shrugged. “If you wanted an in with her…”

“Well.” Mr. Tom puffed up. “It’s good to know I’m appreciated.”

“No.” Jimmy placidly pointed at Mr. Tom. “I mean, you are, but I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Austin winked at the kid. “I’ll take care of it.”

Jimmy smiled, and it was the look of a boy who thought something good was going to happen to the most important person in his life.

Austin hoped he could make good on his promise.

Fifteen

It was the day after Jimmy left, and I’d decided I wasn’t going to mope around the house anymore, teary-eyed from the image of his car pulling away. It was time for action.

I would head into town and challenge Sasquatch, owning my gargoyle mantle and blending invisibly into the buildings. I’d lie in wait for Sasquatch to sneak by, and when he was nearly past, I’d stab him right in the back. It was the sneaky, underhanded sort of thing that my mood dictated right now. Stabbing him from the front might scare him a little more, but I felt like pulling a Psycho from behind.

I patted Cheryl, nestled in the back pocket of my jeans, the spring-loaded pocketknife with a razor-sharp edge. She’d cause a problem if anyone would.

After that, it would be off to the bar for a hundred and two libations, followed by an alcohol-induced coma. Drown the pain. Hopefully, my plan would bolster me enough that I could meet Austin’s brother tomorrow. I’d play ambassador to Ivy House, then we could sit down and talk about the mage’s visit. We’d need to set up dinners and…

I didn’t even know what. Clearly I’d need a lesson on what to expect from a formal meetup.

But all that could wait until tomorrow. We had a month to plan. One day of furlough wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s going to work this time.” I made a fist as I headed out the door, Ulric and Mr. Tom in tow. Jasper was already downtown, having organized the “game” with Sasquatch. “I’m going to become the stone.”

“You don’t actually become stone, miss,” Mr. Tom said.

“Yes, Mr. Tom, I know that. It was just a figure of speech.”

Sebastian met me on the porch, and I had a surge of hopefulness. His week had officially ended yesterday. Did this mean he would stay?

“What happened to your hedge maze?” he asked as he kept pace, having decided to tag along even though it wasn’t a traditional training session. “I ducked back there to give Edgar a new growing serum and saw him fretting over a huge hole in the side.”

“The basajaun did that,” I said. “Mr. Tom hid the golden egg—which was a solid gold egg, by the way.”