Page 26 of Vampire's Vixen

Astra accepted the money. “I will, and I’ll tell her they’re from my niece.” She held up the drawings. “Okay, I’m off. I’m going to drop these at the contractor, then get started on my errands. I’ll see you this afternoon,” she added.

I waved as she left. After I finished my breakfast, I rinsed the dishes that were in the sink and placed them in the dishwasher. Then I watered the plants—Auntie had a lot of them—moved the sheets from the washer to the dryer and started another load of laundry, ran the vacuum over the hardwoods, and finally, armed the security code and locked the door as I headed out for the farmers market.

The morning was clear and breezy, with the faint shimmer of sun gleaming down on the rain saturated grass and trees. The road had dried overnight, so it wasn’t slick, except where the puddles had formed from all the rain we’d had the past week, and I even opened my car window for a few minutes to air out the inside. Five minutes, though, and I was ready to close it again and turn on the heat. Even though it was clear, it was still only forty-two degrees and that was too cold to let the air flow through.

The farmers market was bustling, though, even with the chill in the air, and several stalls were offering spring lettuce and early carrots. They had to have started them in greenhouses, I thought. No way could they be growing outside when we were still getting nights that dipped down near freezing.

Pulling my portable basket on wheels behind me, I didn’t linger at any one stall but bought some salad greens and greenhouse tomatoes before stopping at the honey stand. As I saw who the vendor was, I started to laugh. Ginger Lily was standing behind the counter.

“Hey, Ginger!”

She grinned. “Well, well, fancy seeing you here.”

“I forgot that you sold goods here,” I said. “Well, we need a couple of quarts of honey, so load me up.”

Ginger’s hair was pulled back in a curling ponytail, held by a green gingham ribbon. “What kind? I have wildflower, blackberry, clover, and larkspur honey.”

I frowned. “What’s the difference?”

She handed me four tongue depressors. “Taste,” she said, pointing to the sample jars.

I tried a sample of each. The wildflower tasted sweetest, and it reminded me of deep summer and picnics. Blackberry had a warm taste to it, a little more herby. Clover was dusty, in an odd way, and the larkspur tasted like late summer.

“I think a jar of the wildflower, and a jar of the blackberry,” I said.

As she rang them up, she asked, “So, is dinner still on for tomorrow?”

I nodded. “It’s on my calendar.”

“You would be surprised by how many people blow me off,” she said, her voice sounding the opposite of her smile. “They agree to get together, then just never bother contacting me again.”

“You think it’s because you’re…” I glanced around, unsure as to how many people might be listening. I didn’t want to out her as Fae unless she was good with it.

“Fae? People know. I don’t make a secret of it. I’ve discovered that when you hide things, people sense it and then they wonder what you’re hiding. Even if you tell them later on, they still don’t know if they can trust you because you hid things in the first place.”

She shrugged. “Apparently, I’m good enough to buy honey from, but not good enough to hang out with. But hey, those who don’t want to hang out with me because they’re afraid of what I am, well…I’m not losing anything positive, am I?”

“True. What’s the use of having toxic people in your life? Well, I’m looking forward to dinner, so I’ll see you then.” I handed her my credit card as I looked over the selection of cookies, bars, and pies she was selling. “You also bake? These look good.”

“I use my own honey,” she said, grinning. “Have a cookie.”

I bit into one of the honey-raisin, sighing as it melted in my mouth with a golden, honeyed taste. “I now have two friends who are wonderful bakers. Give me a dozen of these cookies, and one of your apple pies, please.”

As Ginger bagged up my order, I looked around at the other stands. “Anything else here that you’d recommend?”

“Twila, three stalls down, sells the best fudge I’ve ever tasted. She also sells gourmet popping corn. It’s worth the price. And in the aisle behind me, you’ll find a baker whose bread is worth twice what he charges. His name is Domingo. Try his sourdough—it’s so good.” She handed me my bags.

I carefully fit the honey toward the bottom of the cart, and the bag with the pie and cookies in it on top of the salad greens. “Well, I’d better get on with my shopping. I’ll pick up some of the sourdough. I think I should skip the fudge for now. See you tomorrow.”

“Right, see you then,” she said, her smile broadening.

I waved to her, wandering off as I pulled the shopping cart behind me. As I passed the fudge vendor, I decided I couldn’t go by without trying a sample, and after one bite of the maple fudge, I found myself buying a three-flavor set: maple, peanut butter, and chocolate. Then I found Domingo, the bread maker, and left with not only a loaf of sourdough, but also a dozen rolls and a loaf of French bread. I meandered through the rest of the market, adding a couple pounds of sausages along with a rack of lamb, and two rib eyes.

Finished with my shopping, I stored my packages in the backseat, then stopped by a post box to drop off a couple of cards Astra had asked me to post, then stopped in at the coffee stand for another latte. Finally, I headed back home, where I put away the groceries. Finally, I could spend some time in meditation before my initiation.

At five-thirty, I started dressing. I’d spent an hour meditating on whether this was the right direction, and everything in my gut told me I was on the right path. Regardless of what came out of it, this was what I needed to do.

I was finished with my shower and just starting to dress when my phone rang. Frowning—everybody close to me knew that tonight I was undergoing initiation and didn’t have the time or focus to talk—I glanced at the caller ID.

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