The Golden Dynasty (Fantasyland #2)(156)

I watched with fascination as he grinned.

I let that process through me as I grinned back.

Then I sighed.

Then I tipped my chin down and closed my eyes, deciding we’d talk about it later.

Tunahn would be hungry soon. I needed to get my rest.

* * * * *

Harold Quinn listened as he watched the old woman in a trance, her voice saying his daughter’s words, his heart breaking a little and mending a little more.

“Hey Pop. Get this! You’ve got two grandbabies. Twins! Can you believe that? Tunahn is our boy and his name means horse. They have a bunch of different gods here and the horse god is one. Lahn’s name means tiger and that’s a god too. He named Tunahn after the horse god because horses are strong, clever and loyal. Our other baby is a little girl. She has fuzzy, golden hair that I’m pretty sure is going to be just like Mom’s and mine. Tunahn, I forgot to tell you, has black hair like his Dad. Her name is Isis. I named her like you and Mom named me. Tunahn is already strong as an ox, no joke. He also bawls a lot but that’s because he’s a greedy, little monster and cannot seem to get enough milk. But he doesn’t have to bawl long. I can’t keep my hands off him. He’s my little warrior. He’s growing leaps and bounds. Isis is my golden baby; she rarely cries and is super sweet. Her Dad freaking adores her. If Tunahn wakes in the night, Lahn is cool with me getting up and feeding but he’s firm about Tunahn going back to his bed. If Isis does, Lahn’s all over letting her sleep with us. Don’t worry, I’ve nipped that in the bud. Well, kind of.”

The witch sucked in a huge breath and then kept talking, just like his Circe could do.

“You were right, as usual. I guess it sucks that I’ve learned that now when you’re a world away. The witch says that we can try to send these messages but they can’t be certain to reach their target. Though I hope we can, even if it’s only random. I’ll promise to keep trying and I hope you do too. But, like I said, you were right. Lahn and I worked things out. He worked hard at it and maybe I made him work too hard but I love him and I forgave him and now I’m happy. You don’t have to worry. It’s all good. He loves me a lot, Pop, and shows me he does. I’m happy, honestly, very happy. He’s a good guy and if you met him, it might take awhile, but you’d like him.” A pause then, “Oh, by the way, if you could do me a favor and not call him an ass**le in your next message that would be cool. I taught him English and he figured out what that meant and he didn’t much like it.”

Harold Quinn grinned.

The witch went on. “If I don’t hear from you, or you don’t hear from me, I want you to know I miss you and I love you and I always will. Always, Pop. You’re the best Pop a girl could have. The… absolute… best.”

Oh yeah. There it was. That was his girl.

The witch kept talking. “Tell the guys I said hey and give Marlene a hug for me and let her and Circe know I’m all right.”

Another sucked in breath and then the witch went on.

“And I promise I’m all right, Pop. Promise. I’m… well, Daddy, what can I say? I’m home.”

The woman’s shoulders slumped, her head dropped then it shot up and she blinked, her blind eyes focusing on nothing but no longer hazed by her trance.

“Did it work?” she asked, face alight.

When Harold Quinn answered, his voice was gruff, “Yeah.”

The old woman paused as if attempting to sense his mood, the brightness in her face faded when she succeeded in this endeavor then she nodded.

Then quietly she said, “We’re lucky it worked.”

He nodded back though she couldn’t see him. He’d heard her. Communication with that world was difficult. Messages were received only randomly, messages sent might never be known if they were heard.

Tunahn and Isis and his Circe happy with her king.

Yeah, he was lucky it worked.

“You want to try again…” she trailed off and he nodded again even though she couldn’t see him, somehow he knew she sensed this too.

Harold was right for she smiled a gentle smile.

Then she reached out blindly, touched his arm and whispered, “I’ll never be far, father of the golden Circes.”

Then she turned and walked quietly out of his garage, her cane clicking on the floor as she went.

Harold watched the door close behind her before he walked into his daughter’s office and settled in her chair behind her desk after pulling out his wallet. He flipped it open, gently tugged out the oft-touched photo and looked into a pair of familiar golden eyes.

“She’s happy, Andie,” he whispered to his wife.

Andromeda Quinn did what she always did.

She smiled back at him, her beautiful eyes lit with that bright, golden light Harold Quinn loved so f**king much.