“His name’s really Garrett Shea?” Jessica asked, leaning forward. “How did you know that?”

Antonia shrugged. She wasn’t about to go into the whole “sometimes in addition to pictures, a whole fact will appear in my head, indistinguishable from something I read” thing.

As it was, they were probably about ready to toss her on her finely toned ass. She was pretty sure. It was so hard to read them! Except for Jessica, who smelled hopeful and interested, an altogether pleasing scent. But the others…nothing. It was maddening, and cool.

“Garrett,” Garrett said, nodding.

Tina and Sinclair looked at each other and then back at Antonia. “We really aren’t in the habit of letting strangers just, ah, insinuate themselves into our lives…”

The queen buried her face in her hands. She’d painted her claws lavender, a monkey habit Antonia found completely ridiculous. At least she didn’t bite them. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’ve even got the nerve to say that.”

“That was entirely different, my love. As I was saying, this is not our normal habit, but you seem to possess information we can find useful.”

“Aw,” Antonia said. “Stop it or I’m gonna cry.”

They all looked at Jessica, for some reason, who said, “Hey, there’s plenty of room for her and then some. She’s welcome to hang.”

“Jessica owns the house,” the queen explained.

“Oh,” Antonia replied, mystified.

“And I’m sorry, you probably said your name earlier, but I didn’t catch it.”

“It’s Antonia Wolfton.”

For some reason, this made the queen blanch. “No. That’s not really your name, is it? Antonia?”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? If possible, you just went pale.” The woman did look ghastly…practically unattractive, which was a good trick for a good-looking, green-eyed leggy blonde.

“Nothing. Uh, nothing.”

“I mean, you’re the queen, your name is Betsy, and you’ve got a problem with my name?”

“No, not at all, it’s a great name. Um, can I call you Toni?”

“No,” Antonia said. “You can’t.”

Chapter 3

Okay, so here’s your room while you want to stay with us, and the bathroom’s right here…” The queen stepped back out through the doorway, pointed to her left, and then stepped back into the room, a largish bedroom with green and gold–flecked wallpaper. Antonia liked it at once; the walls were the color of the forest in mid-afternoon. “Sorry it’s not attached, but it’s your own private bathroom so you won’t have to share it with anybody. And, uh, I guess that’s it. Agh!”

Antonia spun around. Garrett had followed them up. “That’s going to get real fucking annoying,” she warned him.

He smiled at her in response.

“Bad George! How many times do I have to tell you not to creep around like that? You’ll give everybody heart attacks. Bad, bad Fiend!”