Page 24 of Fire Dancer
It occurred to me that BDSM didn’t sound right, but whatever.
Stacy took a deep breath, then mournfully blew out the candle she’d lit. But when she turned to me, she worked up another smile.
You don’t have to pretend,I wanted to tell her.I’m on your side. I can help.
Her eyes had a hollow,No one can help melook.
“I’ll think it over and let you know when I come back,” she finally said. Then her smile grew warmer, and a little sass came back into her voice. “So much to do, so little time,” she quipped, tossing the scarf over her shoulder.
We both laughed, and the bell over the door jingled as she left.
“See you soon,” I called, watching her go.
For a long time afterward, I thought of her. Her and her scarf and those vials.
Chapter Six
PIPPA
At seven o’clock the next morning, my phone rang its Ragtime tune. I glared at it. Who called at such an hour?
I was consuming breakfast — and the previous day’s news, courtesy of a paper Erin had brought home.
Sad news. The dead hiker had been identified as Janet Sullivan of Denver, just twenty-four years old. Police hadn’t yet determined the cause of death, but they seemed to be leaning toward an accident.
I could picture Ingo’s scowl as he read that.
Meanwhile, the jaunty Ragtime tune of my phone went into its fourth repetition.
“Will you get that already?” Abby said while rushing around the kitchen to get Claire’s school lunch ready. Claire was upstairs, changing into yet another different outfit.
On the ranch, we sisters each had our own little area. Erin shared a cozy cabin with Nash, while Abby and Claire had the upstairs of the main house, and I lived in the converted barn. The conversion wasn’t quite finished — okay, barely even started — so I ate most meals at the main house, where the ground floor was shared territory.
I made a sour face, showing the phone my displeasure before answering it.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Pippa. It’s me,” Erin said, sounding breathless.
Uh-oh.
I steeled myself. My sisters and I lived within shouting distance, and we saw plenty of one another. We could also mind-talk, as most related supernaturals could. We only really used a phone if we needed something right away — and Erin’s tone was urgent.
“Hi,” I stretched the word out warily.
She came right to the point. “I need a favor.”
“I figured.”
Erin broke into a long, complicated story about a tear in a basket at Desert Skies Balloon Adventures.
“We need to fix it by tomorrow. And the parts we need are in Phoenix…”
Subtext: almost two hours away, each way.
“…and it will take a couple of hours to actually weave the wicker…”
I rolled my hand in the air. “What do you need, Erin?”