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go to Summerland?”
    “The man you fancy?” Mom asked.
    I shot her a startled look in the rearview mirror. “Huh?”
    “Alice said you fancy him. I’m pleased for you, naturally, because you’ve been alone for a hundred and forty years, and you’re not getting any younger.”
    “I am only a hundred and twenty-four, thank you,” I said somewhat acidly. “And I’ve had boyfriends. Now, about Summerland—”
    “Pah.” Mom Two said, gesturing away my past. “Emphasis on the ‘boy.’ Your mother has always said that what you need is a real man, not one of those manosexual flibbertigibbets who walk around with their messenger bags and their manicured hands and such. I believe you can’t go wrong with a woman, but that doesn’t seem to be something you wish to pursue.”
    Manosexual?
It took me a few seconds to work that one out. “There’s nothing wrong with metrosexual men, Mom Two. They tend to like arty movies and visits to Starbucks. And, no, I’m sorry. By now you know I prefer men for romantic relationships.”
    “Pah,” she said again, then returned to the previous subject. “We can’t go to Summerland, and that’s that.”
    “You have to go!” I said, pounding the steering wheel when another light turned red. “Dammit, I don’t want either or both of you sent to the Akasha! You have to go somewhere to lie low until the Watch gives up trying to find you. I’ll take Mrs. Vanilla back right now, and then we’re getting you two to safety. They won’t keep after you long once she’s back. You’ll only have to stay there for a few months. Six at the most.”
    “No,” my mother said, and I could see in the mirror that she was shaking her head. Worse, she had that stubborn look on her normally placid face that I knew boded ill for me.
    “Then where do you want to go? It has to be somewhere beyond the reach of the Watch.”
    She gave a little half shrug. “I suppose we could visit Anwyn, as you suggested.”
    I wanted to bang my head on the steering wheel, but knew that would do no good. Besides, the light had just turned green. “I’d take you there in a heartbeat, but we don’t know how to get in.”
    “Mrs. Vanilla does,” Mom Two said.
    I shot her a startled look. “She does?”
    “Yes. That’s what she wanted to show you. Mags, do you have it?”
    There was a click as my mother unfastened her seat belt in order to lean forward and wave a piece of paper in front of my nose.
    Suddenly blinded, I swore and jerked the car to the side of the road. Luckily, it was empty of parked cars. “Mom!”
    “See? Mrs. Vanilla drew a map showing the entrance of Anwyn.” Mom sat back and with a smug look snapped her seat belt into place.
    I stared at the crumpled piece of paper, willing my heart rate to slow down as I smoothed out the wrinkles. “OK, this is a mistake.”
    “I doubt if it is, dear.”
    “No, see, this can’t be right. The old biddy—sorry, Mrs. Vanilla, no offense intended—the old lady is a shrimp or two short of a cocktail. She has to be.”
    Mom Two frowned. “Why would you put a shrimp in a cocktail?”
    “That was a reference to a shrimp cocktail. I was trying to be witty. It relieves the feeling that I’ve gone insane.”
    “Mags,” Mom Two said, her gaze never wavering from my face, “I have changed my mind. A second visit to Dr. Gently may well help our girl.”
    I shook the paper at her. “I am not the one who needs to see a mental health counselor! I didn’t the first time you guys dragged me in to see her, and I sure as shootin’ don’t now, although all the little gods and goddesses know that I’m entitled to one, given what you’re putting me through.”
    “Gwenhwyfar Byron Owens!”
    I looked upward, knowing full well what was coming next.
    “You are very well aware how offensive we find it when you say things like that. We raised you to be a proper Wiccan, one who worships the Deity, not a mingle-mangle of assorted gods and demigods.” Mom had