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someone who’s been around nearly a century.”
    “No argument here!” Jan flipped up her hand. “See you in the morning.”
    Shelley turned back toward the Volkovs, leaving Jan to walk on alone. As her eyes watched for more fireflies, her mind zapped straight back to that moment before dinner, and that flash of heat when she’d touched JP.
    The pack of ghosts promptly rose, the Scorn Ghost curling her lip and rolling her eyes as she said, What are you, sixteen? Because what else could it be? She didn’t know the guy, and she’d stopped believing in love at first sight when she got old enough to rewatch Disney’s Sleeping Beauty and realize, ew, that prince was a total stranger, kissing Aurora while she was zonked? Eww, eww, eww!
    So what was the cause? Merely that he wore such beautiful clothes—and he wore them so well? Or was it that hint of a very taut body inside the clothes? She had to reduce the stupid crush to its component parts in order to scorn it away, because really. This was Shelley’s week, after which Jan would be going back to “Would you care for a beverage with that?” and dealing with automatic phone trees when making audition calls.
    You know, real life.
    Another firefly flicker caught her eye, and she welcomed the distraction. They were fairly scarce, a blink here and there in the soft, still night air, the brilliant canopy of stars overhead far brighter than in LA. It was a relief and a disappointment both that Shelley had said they were a regular occurrence, because though Jan had given up believing in love at first sight, she still believed in magic. It would have been cool to have the fireflies all to herself.
    When Jan reached the motel, she glanced across that stubbly field, her attention caught by a twinkle of fireflies farther away. She let herself into the motel room but left the light off as she threw the key on the bed.
    She stood at the window watching the firefly ballet, but her mind stubbornly brought back the elegant JP LaFleur. Why hadn’t Shelley prepared her for him? Because Shelley had always gone for brawn, of course. She probably thought JP merely cute, or somewhat handsome, without being aware that he was the hottest thing to ever walk the earth.
    Down
,
girl! At least no one can see me seriously breaking Rule One , Jan thought as the fireflies twinkled and wove their dance.
    Was there a significance to those flashes? What kind of hidden life was going on right in front of her nose here? There were so many of them, and only in that direction.
    As she stood there, she realized that though it was after ten, she wasn’t the least bit tired. Buzzed a bit from the wine—and from the after-image of JP’s thick-fringed, tilted black eyes—but not tired.
    She hesitated. Lots of LA was perfectly safe at night, as long as you used your head. Especially if you knew the territory. Jan had been taking the bus and walking for a couple of years now, but this was unknown territory.
    Still, how dangerous could Sanluce be? Four stoplights! No traffic!
    She slipped her cell into her pocket, picked up the key, let herself out and started across the field. The ground was uneven, forcing her to slow down. Her stylish sandals were definitely not made for invisible pot holes, so she set her feet down carefully, hoping this was not a stupid idea—that the fireflies would vanish around her like some mirage.
    When she had crossed the empty lot, she found herself on firmer footing. Beyond some low buildings to her left what appeared to be a path slanted away and down a gentle incline into an area with dark patches of trees and shrubs. Far beyond Jan barely made out a row of very tall trees, ink-black silhouettes against the slightly less stygian darkness. Around the pathway the fireflies swarmed, dancing frenetically.
    She walked down the path, smelling not only grass but the faint fragrance of roses on the air. A sense of excitement seized her, the thrill of possibility. She knew it was