“Ah, Mom,” she whined. No excuses or explanations.

“You don’t live in a cave in the woods anymore. There are rules of civilization. Wearing clothes is one of them.”

“Clothes are dumb.” She tried walking past me from her bedroom to the bath.

“You didn’t think so when you and E.T. spent an entire afternoon trying on the new outfits Lady Lucia’s money bought you.”

“E.T. snores. Why can’t I move into the big room and you share with her?”

“Because then I wouldn’t sleep either. You really don’t want to deal with me when I’m sleep deprived.” Like today. After last night’s easy communication with Gayla and E.T. proclaiming that my eyes glowed demon red, I hadn’t slept much. When I did, my dreams were filled with strange aches in my joints and a need to fly.

No way in hell would I transform into a bat.

I couldn’t suppress my atavistic shiver of fear. Bats! Anything but a bat.

Phonetia rolled her eyes like any teenager with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Hey, it’s part of the job of being a teenager.

“Get your shower and put on some clothes. Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“If you say so.”

“I don’t snore. You do! I don’t want to share with you either,” E.T. yelled from deep within the tangle of a typical teen’s room. All those beautiful, expensive, new clothes and they couldn’t figure out how to hang them in the closet or pick up dirty underwear. They’d shared that room only a few days and already it looked like ground zero of a force ten hurricane.

“Scrap tells me that I’m the one who snores, so you’re both wrong,” I proclaimed. “We’ve got a full day of lessons and cleaning your room today so get moving while I fix waffles.”

“With strawberries?” E.T. asked. She stuck her head out the door. She at least held her nightgown in front of her, protecting my modesty if not hers.

“Strawberries are out of season and I don’t like frozen. How about blueberries? They survive the freezer better. And I’ve got whipped cream.” Girls who loved the same food I did, what more could a mom ask?

“Waffles aren’t any good without bacon,” Phonetia sniffed superiorly.

“Bacon I can do. Better hurry or your sister and I will eat it all.”

Finally she made tracks for the bathroom, presenting her long slender back to me.

I gasped at the snaking scars showing white against her youthful skin.

“Did your father do that to you?” I stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. I remembered the agony of the blackberry whip hitting me repeatedly as my blood worked to share the lives of my girls during Lady Lucia’s spell. I’d barely endured. How had this child survived such abuse?

“Yeah, what of it. He said I deserved it.”

“No child deserves that kind of punishment no matter what their problem.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged out from under my touch.

“I say so.” My words got lost in the slamming of the bathroom door.

“Mom,” E.T. asked hesitantly, still hiding behind her nightgown.

“What, sweetie?” I rearranged my face from stern disapproval to careful concern.

“She called Oak last night, after midnight. We thought you were already asleep. Maybe you’d just gone quiet in your meditation.”

That explained the busy phone line.

Everything inside me stilled. “Why would Phonetia call your brother?”

“She’s worried. The spell, the one Lady Lucia performed . . . it severed our link to our brothers as well as our father. We can’t tell if he’s taking out his anger on the boys.”

“Is he?”

“We don’t know. Oak didn’t answer the pay phone on Second and Ankeny at the prearranged time.”

I should have known. These kids were close. They roamed the city, knew the bus routes, spied for their father. Of course they’d have communications backup.

“Get ready for breakfast. If your lessons go well, we’ll walk the river path after lunch.” I squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

“Can we go south this time? We haven’t been that way and need to pick up litter.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

The doorbell rang as I forked the last piece of bacon from the frying pan onto paper towels to drain.

“I’ll get it!” Phonetia called, sliding down the hardwood floor on stockinged feet. Her dark hair flew out behind her in a silken wave. A wisp of fresh evergreen and mown grass followed her. She curved and braked with uncanny precision right in front of the spy hole.

She’d donned new green jeans, mint polo, and a sweatshirt that splashed bright autumn leaves across the front in puffy rubber paint. No visible scars. She looked pretty, fresh, and eager, like a typical fourteen year old.

“It’s just Dad.” She flung open the door and stalked to the table.

“Who were you expecting that I’m such a disappointment?” Gollum asked from the doorway.

“Your brother, Oak?” I asked quietly.

“How’d you know?

“That bond we have, the one forged of blood and magic. I try not to pry, Phonetia, but it’s dangerous to maintain contact with your brothers.”

Gollum wandered by, snagging a piece of bacon.

“Do you have a reason for dropping in for breakfast unannounced ?” I scraped more batter into the waffle iron.

He found his own plate and cutlery to put on the table along with the three primary settings.

“Do I need a reason to drop by to see my daughters?” His glasses slid to the end of his nose and he peered over them at me. A gentle smile lit his face.

“Yes.” I turned my attention to coffee for me, milk and juice for the girls. Let him get his own damn coffee.

“Actually, Julia wanted to go to her psychiatric appointment by herself after I arranged for TAs to take my classes all day. I dropped her off. Pat will pick her up. Then they plan to hit some of the Veterans Day sales.”

The girls each gave him a hug before they took their places at the table. More affection than they gave me.

“How would you like to help the girls with their lessons? I could really use some time alone with my laptop to get some work done.”

“Oh, Mom, do we have to?” the girls chorused.

“Yes, you have to do schoolwork. With me or with your dad, take your pick.”

They chose Gollum, thinking he’d be a gentler taskmaster. I had news for them.

Three hours later, with three chapters edited and a new one written, I peeked out of my bedroom, amazed at the happy giggles and soft murmur of voices.

“May we please go pick up litter in the park, Dad?” E.T. asked.

“If you’ve finished your spelling practice.”

I eased into the hallway. “You know the drill, girls,” I said authoritatively. “Shoes, coats, and hats. Gloves and trash bags, one for garbage, one for recycling and one for returnable bottles and cans.” They’d picked up the idea of recycling faster than they did writing and math.

“Yes, Mom.” They both rolled their eyes as if my rules were the most outrageous ideas of all time. To them shoes, hats, and coats in a cold November drizzle were unnecessary.

I listened as they thumped down the concrete and steel stairs. When they jumped off the last two steps to the ground, I moved to the French door to watch them amble along the river path.

“You don’t need to watch them every moment. They’ve been roaming the city on their own for years,” Gollum said, coming up behind me. He stood too close, the warmth of his body filled me with yearning.

One and a half dates with Sean plus a lot of phone calls when he canceled on me, and I still longed for the man I couldn’t have.

“I know. But I’m still new to this mothering business.”

“Do you trust Scrap to keep an eye on them and alert you to any danger?”

“Of course. He’s the best baby-sitter ever invented. Sometimes I think he thinks he’s their mother.”

We both laughed.

“Have you told Julia about your illegitimate children?” I had to ask. I had to put the psychic distance between us.

“Not yet.”

“Will you?” I moved away from him, into the kitchen. I stirred a hearty beef stew that simmered in the slow cooker. (I’d discovered that the girls ate just about anything. They preferred vegetarian more from habit than choice.) Something to do. Anything to keep me from throwing myself at him.

That was dinner. What would I do for lunch, especially if Gollum hung around?

“I don’t know if I’ll tell Julia or not. I don’t trust this new stability and happiness. She’s been like this before, usually just before a major crash that sets her back years in her recovery.” He bent his head as he polished his glasses on a pristine handkerchief he fished out of his pocket.

“Veterans Day is this Monday. That means the local convention happens this weekend, day after tomorrow.” I checked the wall calendar to be sure. I’d gotten so caught up in the girls that I’d forgotten one of the most important weekends of the year for my career.

“I’m obligated to go.” I didn’t tell him that I’d given my guest membership to Sean. He was really looking forward to the costumes and nonsense, the music, the fight demonstrations, and the literary discussions.

If he didn’t get called in to work.

“Maybe we should take the girls,” Gollum said happily. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy it.”

“I know they will. They’ll disappear into the gaming rooms and I won’t see them for seventy-two hours. They still bug me to call someone and find out who won the interrupted game at High Desert Con last month.”

“Pat thinks she should move out. Maybe this would be a good test to see if Julia can be left alone.”

“Um.” An image of a pale woman with exquisitely cut hair sitting in a corner of Kelly’s Brew Pub while Squishy spoke to Sean and me flashed before my mind. Was that Julia?

For my sake I almost wished it were. For Gollum’s, I wasn’t so sure. How would he handle the news that his wife loved another woman more than him?

But if it was Julia on her first lesbian date, at least Squishy was moving toward an ethical separation from her patient.

I almost chuckled at how Sean had made a point of dismissing me as his patient before he asked me out.

“I’m close enough to commute to the con, so I won’t stay at the hotel,” I mused, making plans and lists in my head, half thinking out loud. “That means a little closer supervision of the girls when I bring them home at night.”

“You’ll miss out on some of the best filk,” Gollum reminded me. “They usually don’t get started until after ten. And Holly Shannon will be there.”

“There is life outside of filk.” As if the music on the stereo in the background was anything else but the folk music of Science Fiction-Fantasy conventions.

“There may be life after filk, but is it a con without it?”

“Barely,” I acknowledged. Gollum and I had found common bonds at the filk sessions of our first con together.

Would I feel like I had to sing “Heart’s Path” again?

I had to remind myself that I had moved on. I had Sean. We liked each other. We shared a lot of common interests.

Trouble, babe. Scrap popped in and out again.

“Scrap?”

“What?” Gollum asked. He’d already scooped up his jacket and headed for the door.

“Where are the girls and what is wrong, Scrap?”