Beguiled by Maureen Child Page A

than thirty steps with risers no more than an inch high—designed in a zigzag fashion to rise two feet from the floor. And there were hidden passages linking the rooms together in a rabbitlike warren behind the walls.
    But here in the kitchen, Gran had put her foot down. The walls were sunshine yellow, the cabinets were painted a gleaming white and the worn counters looked cozy instead of shabby. It was as if the walls themselves were imprinted with the warmth of family.
    Here, in this house, everything she touched or saw reminded her of her grandparents. The scent of fresh cookies always brought back images of Gran, and glancing out the back window, she could see the guesthouse Grandpa had built himself so that he could leave home whenever he wanted and never be far away.
    Now, Nora and Eileen—and Quinn, too—lived in that guesthouse and Maggie had the main house mostly to herself. Except for those times when Culhane was popping in and out or when Bezel the pixie came down from his tree house to raid Maggie’s stores of chocolate.
    Though the place was a lot less soothing these days, what with everything crazy going on, she was at least at home. Where there were no demons masquerading as goth punk rockers. She hoped.
    Eileen ignored Bezel, reached for a Double Stuf Oreo from the open package in front of her and took a bite, talking around the cookie. “It says here that the Fae kidnap humans all the time, but Bezel says that’s stupid—”
    “ Why would we want to clutter up Otherworld with you people?” he demanded.
    “And according to Wikipedia,” Eileen went on as if the pixie hadn’t spoken, “a human who’s half-Fae is welcome in Otherworld, but Bezel says nobody likes a half-breed.”
    Maggie slid a hard look at the pixie, who was now whistling and pretending to be invisible. “Nice. Thanks.”
    Sheba, Maggie’s golden retriever, wandered in from the living room and lay down beneath Bezel’s stool, hoping the pixie would drop something edible. Instantly though, the dog started snoring.
    “Am I a half-breed, too?” Eileen asked.
    “No, you’re a quarter-breed,” Maggie said, “or maybe an eighth-breed. I hate math.” Which made her think back to Culhane’s talking about the Fae grandfather she’d never known.
    When she and Nora were kids, their grandmother had always told them stories about the time when she was young and visiting Ireland and how she’d met a handsome man who’d whisked her off to Faeryland. She claimed to have lived there for several weeks, but when she’d come home, she’d actually been gone only overnight.
    She’d also been pregnant. Of course, no one had believed her wild tales about a Faery lover. But she’d met Grandpa a few months later and married him. He adopted Nora and Maggie’s mom, and no one really thought about the past anymore—well, except for Gran. She’d never really gotten over that magical lover she’d known so briefly. So when Nora and Maggie were old enough, she’d told them everything she remembered about Otherworld and the Fae who lived there.
    Nora had believed.
    Maggie hadn’t.
    She did now, though. She only wished she could have five minutes with Gran so she could apologize about ever doubting her.
    “So the baby will be a quarter-breed, too?” Eileen asked.
    “No,” Maggie said without really thinking about it, “since Quinn’s the father, it’ll be mostly Fae and . . . what ?”
    “Don’t expect me to be a babysitter,” Bezel grumbled.
    “God forbid,” Maggie said solemnly as she stared at the hideously ugly pixie whipping up dinner in her kitchen. Bezel stood three feet tall, had wispy silver hair and an even wispier silver beard. His blue eyes blazed in a face so wrinkled he looked like a shar-pei puppy, and the green velvet suit he wore had been made by the wife he never stopped talking about, Fontana.
    The very same wife who had tossed his ugly pixie ass out of Otherworld for spending “too much time with humans,”