Her mother's porch light was on, and so was one lamp light inside. Linda smiled as she parked and got out of the car. It was probably that 1920s brass mermaid lamp her mother liked to read by late at night--only it wouldn't be late to Sylvia Redbird. Four in the morning would be early for her, and just about getting up time.

Linda was just going to tap on the windowpane of the door before opening it when she saw the note written on lavender-scented paper and taped on the door. Her mother's distinctive handwriting said:

Linda darling, I felt you might be coming, but I

couldn't be sure when you would actually

arrive, so I went ahead and took some soaps

and sachets and things to the powwow in

Tahlequah. I'll be back tomorrow. As always,

please make yourself at home. I hope you're

here when I return. I love you.

Linda sighed. Trying not to feel disappointed and annoyed at her mother, she went inside. "It's really not her fault. She'd be here if I hadn't stopped coming by." She was used to her mother's weird way of knowing whenever she was going to have a visitor. "Looks like her radar still works."

For a moment she stood in the middle of the living room, trying to decide what to do. Maybe she should go back to Broken Arrow. Maybe John would leave her alone for a while--or at least long enough for her to get an attorney and get him served with papers.

But she'd broken her rule about no overnights during the week, and the kids were at friends' houses. She didn't have to go back. Linda sighed again, and this time with her inhaled breath she took in the scents of her mother's home: lavender, vanilla, and sage--real scents from real herbs and handpoured soy candles, so unlike the PlugIns John insisted she use instead of "those sooty candles and those dirty old plants." And that decided her.

Linda marched into her mother's kitchen and went straight to the little, but well stocked wine rack and pulled out a nice red. She was going to drink an entire bottle of wine and read one of her mother's romance novels, and then stagger up to the guest loft, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Tomorrow her mother would give her an herbal tea concoction to get rid of her hangover, and she'd also help her figure out how to get her life back on the right track--a track that didn't include John Heffer and did include her Zoey.

"Heffer, what a stupid name," Linda said, pouring herself a glass of wine and taking a long, slow drink.

"That name is one of the first things I'm going to get rid of!" She was looking through her mother's bookshelf, trying to decide between reading something sexy by Kresley Cole, Gena Showalter, or Jennifer Crusie's latest, Maybe This Time. That was it--the great title decided her because maybe this time she'd do the right thing. Linda was just settling down in her mother's chair when someone knocked on the door three times.

In her opinion, it was entirely too late for visitors, but you never knew what to expect at her mother's house, so Linda went to the door and opened it. The vampyre who stood there was stunningly beautiful, a little familiar looking, and totally, completely naked.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Neferet

"You are not Sylvia Redbird." Neferet looked down her nose disdainfully at the drab woman who had answered the door.

"No, I'm her daughter, Linda. My mother isn't in right now," she said, glancing around nervously. Neferet knew the moment the human's eyes found the white bull, because they widened in shock and her face drained of all of its sallow color. "Oh! It's a ... a ... b-bull! Is it making the ground burn? Hurry! Hurry! Come inside where it's safe. I'll get you a robe to wear and then call animal control or the police or someone."

Neferet smiled and turned her head so that she could gaze at the bull, too. He was standing in the middle of the closest lavender field. If one didn't know better it would, indeed, appear as if he were burning everything around him. Neferet knew better.

"He isn't burning the field; he's freezing it. The withered plants just look scorched. Actually, they're frozen," Neferet said in the same matter-of-fact tone she often used in her classroom.

"I've-- I've never seen a bull do that before."

Neferet lifted one brow at Linda. "Does he truly look like a normal bull to you?"

"No," Linda whispered. Then she cleared her throat and, obviously trying to sound stern, said to Neferet, "I'm sorry. I'm confused about what's going on here. Do I know you? May I help you?"

"There is no need for you to be confused or concerned. I am Neferet, High Priestess of Tulsa's House of Night, and I do most certainly hope you can help me. First, tell me when you expect your mother to return." Neferet kept her voice affable, though her mind was a jumble of emotions: anger, irritation, and a lovely shiver of fear.