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Chapter 18

“Oh.” He jigged Shan and then let her slide to the floor. “Hey, Donna. When did you get here? Hell, howdid you get here?”

Donna, somehow peculiarly normal, especially when compared to Shan’s green hair and facial tats, and Ann-Marie’s biker-chick attire, stared at them, her blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I took the train. And then a bus. I arrived a few hours ago.” Butter wouldn’t have melted in her mouth, so frosty was her attitude. “If you would check your email, answer a phone call, or perhaps even listen to your voice mail, you might have expected me. I brought you a care package.”

“Well, ain’t you just darlin’?” Shannon said. She pulled herself up straight, then bowed elaborately, using the foam sword to sarcastic effect. “Who’s this, Beau?”

“Shan,” Beau said, teeth clenched, “this is Donna Wingfield. Dee-Dee, this is Shan, Ann-Marie, and Vin. We were out jousting. Sorry if you’ve been—”