“A little over three-hundred years ago, one of your ancestors on your father’s side claimed she could talk to animals! Can you imagine?”
“Oh! That would be so cool.” I grin and give Finn’s ears a scratch. This magic runs in my family! “What happened to her?”
“There was talk about her being a witch, but the family was some kind of minor nobility back in England, so it looks like they were able to hush it up. There hasn’t been anything else since.” Mom’s tone goes regretful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find much.”
“What you found is great, and I appreciate you looking.” It’s good to know this witch power runs in my blood. Who knows how many women in the years in between would have been able to talk to animals if there’d been magic in the world? I’m so glad that Naomi reopened the doors of Faerie. As weird as it’s all been, my magic feels like a part of me.
And it brought me Severin.
Mom uses her mother-telepathy powers and reads my mind from across several –hundred miles. “So, how are things going with your young man? Can I expect any grandbabies yet?”
“Mom, you’ve got to stop asking that!” But I know she won’t.
“I’m sorry! I just want you to have someone in your life. You don’t have to have children yet, but I don’t like the thought of you being alone.”
“I’m not alone. I’m still dating Severin. Things are getting a little serious.” Not a complete lie—marriageisserious, even fake marriage—but I’m not going to mention the M word unless I win this last bride trial. There’s no point in getting her hopes up if things go totally pear shaped.
“Severin! What an interesting name.”
“I think it’s an old family one… from Europe.”
“Even if you’re not having babies yet, the washing machine trick is still great.”
“Mom!”
“Hey, orgasms are important, and not just his.”
I laugh, shaking my head. She’s not wrong, but this is the kind of convo I want to have with my besties, not my mother.
“I love you,” I say.
“Love you, too. Tell that young man your father and I plan to meet him soon.”
We say our goodbyes, and the second I slip my phone back into my pocket, Finn rolls from my lap to stand, head pointed toward the kitchen door. “I haven’t forgotten the peanuts, you know.”
“I’m on it.”
Right as I get up, leaves rustle as one of the rhododendrons edging the back of the yard shakes. “Berries?” A porcupine’s head pokes out from behind a cluster of pink flowers. It waddles forward, its long quills clearing the bush. Then two more tiny ones follow, little balls of whisker-thin silvery quills propelled forward by tiny black feet.
Awww! It’s the mommy and babies I met a couple of days ago!
The mother’s dark eyes watch me carefully, or maybe she’s watching Finn. “You have berries?”
Rune steps out from behind a tree, his amber eyes flashing gold as he eyes the newcomers. “Everything okay here?”
The mother turns to face him, and the babies burrow into her side, trying to hide.
“Everything’s fine,” I say in a soft voice. “These are friends.”
“Fine, if you like being poked with quills,” Finn grumps.
“Hush, you,” I say. “Leave them alone, and no quill poking needs to happen.”
“Humph.”
I pull out my phone and do a quick search for what porcupines eat. When I discover they’re herbivores, I make a mental list of everything in the fridge. “I don’t have any berries, but I do have baby carrots.”
The mother moves closer, her babies following close behind. “Try carrots.”
