“Is that a yes?”
“Hold on a minute!” She held it up to the light and started laughing. “I need to fully assess my options here.”
“Oh? Is it a hard decision?” He tugged her from her chair, spun her around, and landed her in his lap where he tickled her furiously. “Fine then. I will live out my days as your servant. I think you should buy a pool so that I can officially be your pool boy.”
She turned the ring in the light. “Naaaah. I’ll marry you.”
He laughed. “You’ve decided?”
She stopped laughing and looked him in the eye. “But not because of the ring. Only because I love you more than I ever thought possible.”
“Sounds like a good reason to me.” He sealed it with a kiss.
Rowan scooted off his lap and pulled him from his chair. “Let’s go. Djorji’s waiting, and we don’t want to be late.”
They locked up together and danced their way to the car and their first real date.
* * *
Harriet waitedon the terrace of Rowan’s Dakota-building home, dressed in a camel-colored suit with the most deliciously patterned nautical Hermès scarf, her favorite Birkin bag slung over the crook of her arm. The thick falconry gloves she wore did not match her outfit, but some things couldn’t be avoided.
She’d been there a while. Now it was just a matter of waiting.
He would come. He always did.
Especially today of all days, when Nick had busted Gerald Stevenson and ended all hope he might have had of gleaning any more money from the man.
Sure enough, lit only by the streetlights below, a white owl flew toward her and landed on the wrought iron rail. The bird looked at her and flapped its wings, growing more agitated as it realized its feet were stuck. Harriet calmly walked to it and clamped a metal tag around Verinetti’s leg.
“You’re probably confused about why you can’t shift or fly away,” she said to the bird, who was snapping at her and flapping its wings furiously. “I can’t take credit for this one. It was an idea someone named Madam Chloe had, a witch out of Chicago, very powerful. I made the salve you are standing in. A simple concoction of herbs with a nerve agent that temporarily makes it impossible for your feet to release the rail. Madam Chloe made you the tag around your ankle, an enchanted metal alloy that makes it impossible for you to shift.”
The owl looked at her in horror and struggled more furiously.
“Ironically, it’s made of the same stuff Malvern bound Rowan with. He almost killed her, you know.”
The owl screeched and flapped.
“Your feet will relax in a few more minutes and you’ll be able to fly away, but I’m afraid you will be an owl for a very long time, Michael Verinetti. Unless you can find someone to cut that off you. They won’t be able to cut the tag itself. That’s impervious. They could cut off your leg, but be advised, you’ll want medical personnel nearby because when you shift back, you’ll have one less leg to stand on.”
Harriet backed inside the open door, knowing the owl could not follow. The space was still warded against him.
“I suggest you get comfortable in your new skin,” Harriet said. “If Rowan has to deal with you again, she won’t settle for a life sentence. It will be the death penalty.” She closed the door between them and watched through the glass as the owl’s feet finally released the rail and it flew off toward Central Park.
Rosco nudged her hand with his nose, and she rubbed the German shepherd between the ears. “There’s my good boy. You have my permission to eat that bird if you ever see him again. Now, let’s go get a treat.”
Epilogue
June 9, 2018
New Orleans, Louisiana
Raven stood at the head of the aisle, wearing a dress that was as unique as the creatures who had created it. Juniper and Hazel had outdone themselves with this one. She’d already received questions about who the designer was and had said she’d designed it herself, a lie her sister Avery clearly did not believe.
The dress was made of a light, airy fabric and embroidered with diamonds that shimmered when she moved. Of course, anyone who saw it would assume they were crystals. The oreads had designed the gown backless with strings of diamonds swagged from shoulder to waist. No one in their right mind would assume they were real either. The dress draped over her every curve and was cut with an empire waist that completely hid her small but growing baby bump.
“You don’t seem nervous at all,” her mother said beside her. “That’s a good sign.”
“How could I be nervous? I’m making the best decision of my life.”
