Free Tempting Danger by Eileen Wilks

as nails, or she would have cracked years ago.
    “Thank you. I’m feeling well.” Li Qin moved aside. Lily stepped out of her shoes and into a small slice of China . . . or Grandmother’s version of it.
    The entry was small and almost bare. An intricately carved stone fountain tinkled on a shiny black table, and a plain wooden rack held outdoor shoes and several pairs of slippers. Lily slipped on a turquoise pair and followed Li Qin.
    They passed through what Lily and her cousins called the Trophy Room, filled as it was with Grandmother’s collections—jade, pottery, lacquer. New pieces were mixed with old. A handful were museum quality, and a few were just plain odd. Grandmother’s tastes were unpredictable.
    The door to the garden stood open. Passing through it, Lily moved from China to an exuberant mix of the Mediterranean and the tropics. A flagstone courtyard shaped like a lifesaver left a circle of grass open at the very center and rounded off the square courtyard. In the four corners, sticks on fire mixed with hibiscus, lavender bloomed, and bamboo thrived, while Santa Barbara daisies frothed around the feet of a small orange tree.
    Dead center in the courtyard, a tiny woman sat at a round table. Her face showed signs of age, but her bones were limber, for she sat tailor fashion. The black hair with its dramatic white wings was pulled into an unforgiving bun. She wore tailored black slacks and a collarless red shirt, both silk. Her face was turned up to the sun.
    Lily walked out to her. “Grandmother,” she said reproachfully as she bent to kiss a soft, powdered cheek, “the lavender is blooming.”
    “I like the scent.” Grandmother spoke in Chinese. This was a rebuke.
    Reluctantly, Lily switched to Chinese. She understood it better than she spoke it. “It’s the wrong time of year for lavender to bloom. That’s hard on the plant.”
    Penciled-in eyebrows lifted. “You are here to ask me a favor?”
    And hadn’t yet been invited to sit. She was not off to a good start—yet she laughed, suddenly rushed with affection for the old woman. “Wo ai ni, Dzu-mu.”
    The old woman reached up and patted Lily’s cheek. “I am fond of you, too. Though I don’t know why. You are impertinent, and your accent is barbaric.” The small hand waved regally. “You may sit. Li Qin will bring tea.”
    Which meant they would not be getting down to business right away. Lily sat and managed not to squirm with impatience. For the next twenty minutes they sipped oolong in delicate, handleless cups and discussed The Wedding—it was beginning to appear in Lily’s mind in capitals—and California politics, which amused Grandmother vastly. And baseball.
    Grandmother was a passionate Padres fan. No number of lackluster seasons could dim her ardor. After making pronouncements about several of the players, she added, “I have had the team’s horoscope cast. This will be their best season yet, if they can avoid injuries.”
    “That would be a first. They had, what—five players out last year?”
    “So many injuries can’t be natural.” Grandmother brooded on that a moment. “I will send the manager the name of a good antihex firm.” She cast Lily a sly look. “I hear Chang’s company is looking for a sensitive. They pay very well.”
    “Not you, too!”
    Grandmother chuckled. “It would please your mother. But not, I think, me.”
    Lily had never wanted to work for any of the private firms that employed sensitives. Or for the government in that capacity, for that matter. For centuries, sensitives—and some who claimed to be, but probably weren’t—had been used to sniff out otherness. It had been worst during the Purge, but it continued to this day. There was still so much prejudice, and sensitives could be used to “out” someone who had good reason to keep his Gift or bloodlines a secret.
    “Actually, I came here to ask you about that. Being a sensitive, I mean. And about lupi.”
    “I read about this in