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halfway around the world to say hi.” His cousin’s long legs ate the space between the door and the fireplace in two strides and he stuck his hands close to the screen to warm them, even though Tim knew he couldn’t be cold. Hell, the guy lived high in the Himalayan Mountains most of the year. This twenty-degree weather should be subtropical for him.
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    When Andy didn’t answer, Tim turned to Fry, who was just hanging up his coat.
    Flapping his blue-tinted wings a couple of times to stretch them, he turned to Tim and shrugged. His ears, the pointed tips clearly visible through his tousled black hair, twitched.
    “Sorry, Tim,” Fry said. “We picked up a SPAz tail in Jersey. We think we lost him somewhere in Kutztown, but we’re not sure.”
    Tim’s temples began to thump. Great, just fucking great. The members of the Society of Paranormal Anomalies, which Tim’s community had given the unflattering and completely appropriate nickname of SPAz many years ago, were first-rate pains-in-the-ass.
    Tim scrubbed at his eyes, trying to ease the headache he felt building. “Christ, Andy. You don’t know how much of a bad time this is.” His cousin shrugged. “I must have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn’t even know I was going to pick up Fry in England when I started out from home.
    I was gonna hang out in Ireland for a while but Fry contacted me and let me know he was in London. We decided to hop the Atlantic, hang out with you for a while then head up to the Mystyk Bar in Tioga. I only noticed the damn tail when we were halfway to Reading. They must’ve gotten a tip from someone at the airport.”
    “Hell, I’m not angry with you, Andy. But Carrie…well, she…”
    “Doesn’t know who you are?” Andy snorted. “No shit.” Tim sighed again. “No, I mean she’s one of them.” Andy’s perplexed expression would have been funny any other time. “You mean she’s like Fry? Hell, buddy, if I’d known you had a thing for wings, I would have hooked you up with Gizelle years ago.”
    And that would have been much easier, wouldn’t it? To fall for a woman from the Fringe.
    “That’s not what I mean.”
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    Andy frowned. “Then what—” His eyes widened. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me? She’s a SPAz ?”
    “No. Worse.” He paused then bit the bullet. “She works for the Weekly News Journal .”
    Andy’s mouth dropped open for at least fifteen seconds before he started to laugh.
    “Oh, you are so fucking screwed, cuz.”
    Yeah, he was. Totally.
    Because, from behind him, he heard Carrie gasp.
    * * * * *
    There was no way she was awake.
    Carrie figured she was having a dream because Tim was standing in his living room talking to a Yeti with long, blond hair and a winged Mothman.
    Except the Yeti was no ape man and Mothman had the face of an English fairy, all sharp angles and points. And wings.
    And the Yeti kind of looked like Tim. Yeah, there definitely seemed to be a family resemblance in the deep-set eyes, the high cheekbones and the square jaw.
    Damn. She must have hit her head harder than she’d thought in the accident. And she definitely needed a vacation. Her job had finally started to get to her.
    “Carrie?”
    “Uh huh.”
    She heard Tim say something else but she couldn’t take her eyes off those wings.
    They must be attached to the tight cotton sweater the guy wore. They couldn’t be real.
    But how the hell was he making them flap? And why the hell would he be wearing them?
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    Walking over to the guy, she twirled her finger in the air and damn, if the guy’s mouth didn’t quirk up at the corners before he did a slow turn, stopping to give his wings a kind of a preening flutter when he had his back to her.
    Nope, those suckers weren’t attached to the sweater. They actually poked through perfectly made slits in the fabric. They weren’t all that big, each only about two feet across and maybe that long again.