"Your coffee has arrived," I announced as I stepped through the open doors of the lab, holding out my humble offering. Instead of a greeting, I found Kelly spreading a cheap tablecloth over her desk accompanied by the rich, savory-sweet smells of Asian food. In the place of her customary business skirt and heels, she wore sneakers, jeans, and a long, flannel shirt, untucked. I almost didn't recognize her.

"What's all this?"

"We're celebrating an anniversary," She smiled over her shoulder. She was bent at the waist, smoothing out the plastic, and I had to force my eyes away from the contours of her hips. How had I been so blind to the fact that I had a hot teacher? I coughed to cover up the short circuit in my brain. Of course I hadn't noticed. Until recently, I couldn't afford to entertain those thoughts, and I had only made exceptions for dateable women. My professors were definitely not on that list.

"Who's anniversary?"

"Ours. One full week so far." She smirked when I failed to react. "I was trying to be funny. Clearly, I should abandon my dreams of a career in stand-up comedy." A rapid succession of concern and relief bounced around in my addled mind.

"Don't give up on it yet," I said. "I'm a tough crowd."

She laughed, "I'm a big girl, I can accept my failings."

I did my best to hide the war of attraction raging inside. I was inclined to blame my otherworldly genetics, or the horrors I'd recently witnessed, but having a legitimate excuse didn't solve the problem. I needed to get a grip on my growing interest in the female form.

"In all seriousness," she continued, blissfully unaware of my thoughts, "you mentioned that you've been neglecting a proper evening meal so I thought you might appreciate something slightly more nutritious than a ham sandwich."

"You really didn't have to do this."

"I know." Her mouth twisted into a wry grin. "But if you want me to be perfectly honest, I skipped lunch. I'm hungry, and I didn't want to feel awkward eating dinner in front of you. I hope you like Thai."

"Love it," I said graciously. In truth, I'd never had it before, but it smelled wonderful.

"Great," she said, evaluating her tablecloth with the telltale signs of an obsessive personality. "You can unpack the food. Grocery bag on the floor."

The meal was good, the company even better. The girls at Meridian were intelligent and engaging once you got to know them, including Becca, whose penetrating observations more than made up for her social awkwardness. But Kelly Barnes spoke my language. Even when we wandered off the subject of school or medicine, it was easy to relax into a natural, effortless discourse. I grew more confident that I could enlist her help in finding a mundane cure for a magical ailment. Of course, that meant I had to convince her magic was real. How would I even begin that conversation?

"What?" I said, only vaguely aware that she'd asked me a question.

"Favorite movie?"

"Oh, uh. Citizen Kane."

She smirked, "Liar."

"Excuse me?"

She grinned before committing to a forkful of curried noodles. "That's what people say when they want to impress you. Nobody actually enjoys that film."

"A few people must have," I protested, "Best screenplay and nine Academy Award nominations."

"Why do you know that?" she asked, unconvinced, "it was filmed in the forties. You don't strike me as a cinephile."

"I'm not, I just I like old movies. The modern stuff is too chaotic. My therapist used to make me recite trivia as a focusing exercise and I picked subjects I liked. What about you?"

Kelly picked up a napkin and wiped at the corner of her mouth. "It's been a while since I've seen any. I'd have to go with The Princess Bride."

"You're kidding."

"My mother shared it with me when I was younger. It was her favorite, so I suppose that's part of its charm. Why, is there a problem?"

I shrugged and sipped at my cola, "No problem."

"What's wrong with The Princess Bride?" She insisted. She wasn't letting me off the hook and leaned over her desk the way she always did when she had a keen interest in the answer to a question.

"It's like you said about me, I just don't see it. Romance? Fantasy? You seem too clinical for either."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, acting offended. "I also like red wine, chocolate, sunflowers, pink sweaters, new shoes, and romance novels. Does that surprise you?"

"Maybe a little. Professor Barnes was always formal and strict. This Kelly person is new to me."

She grinned, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "Fair enough. You shouldn't be peeking beneath the lab coat anyway, I'm your teacher."

"Except weeknights between six-thirty and eight."

Her smile widened and we raised a toast with our paper cups, but her expression sobered quickly.

"I am," she said, her stare fixed on a point somewhere beyond the room.

"What?"

"Your teacher."

"I... yeah, I know." I stammered, confused. Her tone and demeanor changed so abruptly I was afraid I'd done something to offend her. She began to clear the food from her desk, suddenly back to business, "You should get busy, I've wasted enough of your time."

"Is something wrong?" I asked. Her fairy lights floated lazily through her anima, neither flaring nor dim. I'd been checking from time to time for warning signs, and though I could read some of my influence in them, they told me nothing more.

"No, it's—no, Tom, everything is fine. You're making better progress than I expected, perhaps we should call it a night and pick it up again on Monday."

I helped her clean without speaking, carefully avoiding contact. I suspected she was merely, and rightly, resisting an unwelcome attraction, but there was something more, something threatened by our friendly dialog. Whatever rapport I'd gained over dinner was rapidly fading into sterile professionalism, and I was reluctant to let it go. I wanted her to relax, to feel the comfortable attachment I produced in the girls back home. I didn't know her well enough to ask personal questions, so I did the next best thing and sent a trickle of power in her direction.

Her anima wasn't as welcoming as the girls at Meridian, and her body wasn't saturated by my touch, so my ability to influence her directly was significantly diminished. It felt strange to be held at bay, but we still had a connection, the result of a different kind of chemistry.

She froze in place for several seconds, then turned, eyes intent on mine, and my heart skipped a beat. Could she possibly know what I just did? That paranoia ebbed when she cleared her throat and slipped the table cloth into her grocery bag.

"Thank you for this evening," she said at last, "I don't have many opportunities to socialize."

I opened my mouth, but once again she cut me off, holding up a finger to indicate she hadn't reached her point. "But I don't want to give you the wrong idea, letting you stay late, buying you dinner... I'm not playing favorites with you. I only want you to use your gifts well. Don't expect special treatment in class."

"I haven't been in class."

"Don't get smart with me, you know what I mean."

I nodded, "Okay, Professor."

She rolled her eyes, "If you call me professor when I'm off the clock again I will become cross with you. Don't make me choose between being a person and being a teacher, you're smart enough to know what's appropriate and when."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tom," she said, her eyes narrowed dangerously behind her glasses, "are you deliberately being an ass?"

I gave her my most neutral expression, "Yes ma'am. A little."

Her eyes smoldered, but one corner of her mouth turned up playfully. "I see. Well, you can shove that pandering straight up yours. Have a good weekend and I'll see you on Monday."

I was in such a good mood driving back into town that I cranked up the radio and hummed along to songs I didn't know. I was still afraid I'd overdone it at the end, but Kelly's reaction hadn't been sexual or extreme, just friendly. Maybe I read it wrong because of my easy relationship with Katherine, but I took the verbal sparring as a positive sign.

I wanted her help, and for that I needed her trust beyond the advocacy she was already providing. It required a better bond, the kind a leanan sidhe could inspire, not the surface tension of a gean canagh. Until I could claim that level of friendship, I had to remain respectful, keep the conversation upbeat, and stop thinking about how she might look naked.

What lifted my spirits more, however, was that I'd loosened the knot in my mind without losing control. I didn't quite understand how. It had been reflexive, without deliberate thought. Becca said that the subtle influence of a leanan sidhe had to be nurtured, and while my father's ability gave me a shortcut, that path could only ever be sexual. I believed, I hoped, that my relationship with Kelly had been forged from something else, and the effect on her had been altogether different. Every step forward was worth celebrating.

I woke to a text message from Professor Barnes canceling our Monday meeting due to a schedule conflict, and unable to get back to sleep, I quietly rolled out of bed. Saturday morning's overcast sky left the city of Redgrove bereft of warmth as the first frost of the year sparkled among the grass and fallen leaves, but inside Meridian's walls, with its mysterious illumination and mystically controlled climate, it may as well have been late spring. After a couple of hours reading through my weekly course content, I joined the girls in the kitchen for breakfast.

Amy made an appearance most mornings, though being nocturnal, it was technically dinner for her. She didn't run on a strict night-day schedule and needed less sleep than humans did, or we might not have seen her at all. That morning, however, she didn't show up until the rest of us were finished.

"Hey, we nearly missed you," Katherine said as Amy leaped onto the counter. "Let me grab the cream."

"No, don't," Amy said quietly, looking at her own feet. "I'm not hungry."

"Is something wrong?" Becca asked, eyes wide and worried.

"No. Kind of. It's Wen's birthday."

"Who's Wen?"

"My best friend's nephew."

The darkness I'd been avoiding for the past two days began to close in around me as the meaning of her words sunk in. "I'm sorry, Amy," I said gently. Realization made its way through the rest and Katherine gasped while Becca fought to hold back tears.

"Is there anything we can do?" Katherine asked.

Amy took a cautious step toward me and sighed. She sounded empty. Hollow. "I thought I'd spend the day drinking, but that never really helps. I was hoping—can I touch you, Tom? I didn't want to do it without asking."

I was startled by her question and didn't have the presence of mind to hide it. "Why? If you're not already infected it'll make you sick."

Katherine glared at me across the counter. "I'm not infected with anything."

"You know what I mean."

"I know there will be consequences," Amy said, "but in the meantime—I've seen what it can do to the rest of you, and I can't face the day without help."

Rachel put down her spoon, her expression serious, but gentle. "It's not like that, Amy. Yeah, you're high as a kite for a while, but after—you're not just sick. It crawls into your gut and scoops it out, like you've lost everything in the world that ever mattered to you."

"I already feel that way."

"Then Tom can't give you what you want unless you go all the way." As she said it, she glanced at me and shook her head slightly, just once, warning me to remain silent. Amy sat down inches from my bare arm and it took considerable willpower to keep from moving away.

"If it was an option I'd be tempted." she said, "It's not very practical, but it's got to be better than the alternative."

"Better than feeling like shit?" Rachel snorted. "No it isn't. I won't lie, parts of it are beyond great, but—imagine being hungry all the time and you have to live inside an all-you-can-eat buffet, but all you ever get is an appetizer twice a day."

"Rachel," Katherine reprimanded, carefully watching my expression.

"Yeah, I know Tom will shit a brick, but this isn't about him."

"It's okay," I assured her.

Katherine reached toward Amy and rested her hand on the counter, palm up. Amy responded by placing her own in its center, a recognition of Katherine's attempt to comfort her.

"I never fit in with my clan, not like the others." Amy drew one knee up and rested her head against it. "But Pris and her brother were the closest I had to a real family since I left my world. When his mate Gemmy had Wes, the whole clan celebrated for a week, but for me, Weslin was a miracle, the first Fae birth I'd seen since coming through the Veil. He was my little buddy. He made it worth going back home, even when Grimble was doing his best to make life miserable. When I saw his body—" she stopped abruptly and shut her eyes against the memory.

"Shh," Katherine closed her hand gently around the Fae's tiny arm, "you don't have to talk about it."

"I'm okay," Amy sniffed. She cleared her throat and went on. "I couldn't react at the time, and I've been putting it out of my head ever since, but he would have turned five today. Pris was planning a party and everything. I promised to come. Uhhnn—" she exhaled an uneven breath and turned her attention to me. "I'm losing it, Tom. I need a way out. Even if it's just for today."

It was difficult to turn my thoughts away from Rachel and the geas I'd unintentionally placed on her, the way she looked when I had to refresh it, and her testimony since. I didn't want to bring that kind of pain to Amy, but I wouldn't be trying to compel her. She just wanted the drug, a medical treatment for an ailment she couldn't endure. I met the eyes of the others in turn, and I read the same thing in all of them. It was my decision, and they wouldn't condemn me for it no matter what I chose.

In the end I don't think I would have done it for anyone else. I reached toward her and stopped short, waiting for her to come the rest of the way.

Amy rose up on her knees and embraced my palm, hugging it with bare arms and resting her cheek against my skin. I saw no change in her expression or composure, but an orchestra of light spiraled outward as her anima opened wide in shades of pale blue and silver, followed by the echoing, mournful song of her ravaged heart.