“If there was, it was over my head.”

“Artists were gods, and warriors,” Zoe added. “Or the other way around. I mean art—music, storytelling, all that—was important. And there were mother-goddesses. Motherhood was important. And the number three. So, it’s like, Malory’s the artist—”

It was a quick and painful twist in Malory’s heart. “No, I sell art.”

“You know art,” Zoe said. “Like Dana knows books. I know about being a mother.”

“That’s good.” Dana beamed at her. “That gives each of us our role in this. Pitte said beauty, truth, courage. In the painting, Malory—let’s simplify by calling them by our names for now—Malory was playing an instrument. Music-art-beauty. I was holding a scroll and quill—book-knowledge-truth. And Zoe had the sword and the puppy. Innocence-protection-courage.”

“Which means?” Malory demanded.

“We could say the first key, your key, is somewhere that has to do with art and/or beauty. That goes along with the clue.”

“Great. I’ll pick it up on my way home.” Malory nudged a book with her toe. “What if they just made it up? The whole story?”

“I refuse to believe they made the whole thing up just to have us scrambling around looking for keys.” Thoughtfully, Dana bit into a cookie. “No matter what we believe, they believe it’s true. So there’s got to be some root, some basis for this legend or myth or story they told us last night. If there’s a root, it’s in a book. Somewhere.”

“Actually . . .” Zoe hesitated, then went on, “the book I was reading talked about how a lot of the Celtic mythology and legends didn’t get written down. They were passed orally.”

“Those damn bards,” Dana muttered. “Look, Pitte and Rowena heard it somewhere, and whoever told them heard it from someone else. The information is out there, and information is my god.”

“Maybe what we have to do is get information on Pitte and Rowena. Who the hell are they?” Malory spread her hands. “Where do they come from? Where do they get the kind of money that allows them to pass it out like cupcakes?”

“You’re right.” Annoyed with herself, Dana blew out a breath. “You’re absolutely right, and I should’ve thought of that before. It happens I know somebody who can help us with that while we’re looking into the myth.” She glanced toward the doorway as she heard the front door open. “And here he comes now.”

They heard a thud, a slam, a scramble, and a curse.

It was just familiar enough to have Malory pressing her fingers to her temples. “Holy Mother of God.”

Even as she spoke, the huge black dog raced in. His tail swung like a demolition ball, his tongue lolled. And his eyes went bright as stars as he spotted Malory.

He let out a series of ear-shattering barks, then leaped into her lap.

Chapter Four

FLYNN saw three things when he charged into the room after his dog: his sister sitting on the floor laughing like a lunatic; a sharp-looking brunette standing at the end of the couch heroically trying to dislodge Moe; and, to his surprise and delight, the woman he’d been thinking about for the better part of the day, mostly buried under Moe’s bulk and insane affections.