"Nervous? Don't be ridiculous." But she began to drum her fingers on the table. "He's just a man."

"And you, despite your gifts, are a woman. Shall I tell you what happens when men and women get together?"

She curled her fingers into fists to keep from doing something drastic. "I know the facts of life, thank you. If I do take him as a lover, it's my business. And perhaps my pleasure."

Happy that she'd lost interest in the ice cream, Sebastian nodded as he ate. "Trouble is, there's always a risk of falling in love with a lover. Tread carefully, Morgana."

"There's a difference between love and lust," she replied primly. From his spot under the table, Pan lifted his head and gave a soft woof.

"Speaking of which…"

Eyes full of warning, Morgana rose. "Behave yourself, Sebastian. I mean it."

"Don't worry about me. Go answer the door." The bell rang a heartbeat later. Chuckling to himself, Sebastian watched her stalk off.

Damn it, Morgana thought when she'd opened the front door. He looked so cute. His hair was tumbled by the wind. He carried a battered knapsack over one shoulder and had a hole in the knee of his jeans.

"Hi. I guess I'm a little early."

"It's all right. Come in and sit down. I just have a little… mess to clear up in the kitchen."

"What a way to speak about your cousin." Sebastian strolled down the hall, carrying the bowl of rapidly depleting ice cream. "Hello." He gave Nash a friendly nod. "You must be Kirkland."

Morgana narrowed her eyes but spoke pleasantly enough. "Nash, my cousin Sebastian. He was just leaving."

"Oh, I can stay for a minute. I've enjoyed your work."

"Thank you. Don't I know you?" His gaze changed from mild to shrewd as he studied Sebastian. "The psychic, right?"

Sebastian's lips quirked. "Guilty."

"I've followed some of your cases. Even some hard-boiled cops give you the credit for the arrest of the Yuppie Killer up in Seattle. Maybe you could—"

"Sebastian hates to talk shop,'' Morgana told him. There were dire threats in her eyes when she turned them on her cousin. "Don't you?"

"Actually—"

"I'm so glad you could stop by, darling." A quick jolt of power passed as she snatched the bowl out of his hands. "Don't be a stranger."

He gave in, thinking it was still early enough to stop by Anastasia's and discuss Morgana's current situation in depth. "Take care, love." He gave her a long kiss, lingering over it until he felt Nash's thoughts darken. "Blessed be."

"Blessed be," Morgana returned automatically, and all but shoved him out the door. "Now, if you'll just give me a minute, we can get started." She tossed her hair back, pleased when she heard him gun the engine of his motorcycle. "Would you like some tea?''

His brows were knitted, and his hands in his pockets. "I'd rather have coffee." He trailed after her as she walked toward the kitchen. "What kind of a cousin is he?"

"Sebastian? Often an annoying one."

"No, I mean…" In the kitchen he frowned at the remnants of their cozy dinner for two. "Is he a first cousin, or one of the three-times-removed sort?"

She set an old-fashioned iron kettle on the stove to heat, then started to load a very modem dishwasher. "Our fathers are brothers." Catching Nash's look of relief nearly had her chuckling. "In this life," she couldn't help but add.

"In this… Oh, sure." He set his knapsack aside. "So you're into reincarnation."

"Into it?" Morgana repeated. "Well, that's apt enough. In any case, my father, Sebastian's and Ana's were born in Ireland. They're triplets."

"No kidding?" He leaned a hip on the table as she opened a small tin. "That's almost as good as being the seventh son of a seventh son."

With a shake of her head, she measured out herbs for tea. "Such things aren't always necessary. They married three sisters," she went on. "Triplets also."

Nash rubbed Pan's head when the dog leaned against his leg. "That's great."

"An unusual arrangement, some might say, but they recognized each other, and their destiny." She glanced back with a smile before she set a small pot of tea aside to steep. "They were fated to have only one child apiece—a disappointment to them in some ways. Between the six of them, they had a great deal of love, and would have showered it over quantities of children. But it wasn't meant."

She added a pot of coffee to a silver tray where she'd arranged delicate china cups along with a creamer and sugar bowl, both in the shape of grinning skulls.

"I'll carry it in," Nash told her. As he hefted the tray, he glanced down. "Heirlooms?"

"Novelty shop. I thought they'd amuse you."

She led the way into the drawing room, where Luna was curled in the center of the sofa. Morgana chose the cushion beside her and gestured for Nash to set the tray on the table.

"Cream and sugar?" she asked.

"Both, thanks." Watching her use the grim containers, he was amused. "I bet you're a stitch around Halloween."

She offered him a cup. "Children come for miles to be treated by the witch, or try to trick her." And her fondness for children had her postponing her own All Hallows' Eve celebration every year until the last goody bag had been filled. "I think some of them are disappointed that I don't wear a pointed hat and ride out on my broomstick." The silver band on her finger winked in the lamplight as she poured a delicate amber tea brewed from jasmine flowers.

"Most people have one of two views on witches. It's either the hooked-nosed crone passing out poisoned apples, or the glittering spirit with a star-shaped wand telling you there's no place like home."

I'm afraid I don't fit either category."

"Exactly why you're what I need." After setting his cup aside, he dug in his knapsack. "Okay?" he asked, setting his tape recorder on the table.

"Sure."

He punched the record button, then dug again. "I spent the day slogging through books—the library, bookstores." He offered her a slim soft-cover volume. "What do you think about this?"