Beyond the Pale: A Thin Veil Novella (The Thin Veil Book 3) by Jodi McIsaac

coffee and putting her bagel in the toaster. “Where you living now, then?”
    “Uh, Montreal,” she improvised, starting to think this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. What if one of her old colleagues from work walked in? She’d left Ellison with virtually no notice, and Jane had told her about the rumors that were still swirling around the office. She just wanted a bagel, not an inquisition. “Can I get that to go?” she asked as she watched him slather on the cream cheese.
    “Sure you can,” Mike said. “I suppose you’ve got lots of people to visit while you’re back?”
    She nodded, then handed him the ten-dollar bill and said, “Keep the change. Nice to see you again!”
    “Happy Thanksgiving!” he called, but she was already out the door.
    She’d forgotten—it was Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada, not that such holidays were celebrated in Tír na nÓg. She thought about heading back to Jane’s apartment, but it was a gorgeous fall day, warm for this time of year, and the cry of the seagulls and the smell of the ocean were too intoxicating to leave behind. She pulled her bagel out of the bag and took a bite, letting the taste and smell and feel of the warm bread assault her senses in the most wonderful way. The food in Tír na nÓg was exceptional, but this, this tasted like home. She found a bench close to the waterfront and sat down, watching as a lone sailboat drifted past. Maybe we could come back for weekends , she thought idly. Just so we can spend our Saturday mornings here.
    A sudden movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around, but there was nothing there. Still, she felt unsettled. It was risky coming back to Earth, and she knew it…Enemy druids could be anywhere. She stood up and looked around, but the only other person in sight was a solitary jogger running in the opposite direction. If she had her way, she would bring every single druid on Earth in for questioning, but that task seemed impossible. There was no central registry of druids, and even the druids themselves did not know where all the others were.
    She kept her head down as she walked back to the apartment, hoping she wouldn’t bump into anyone she knew. Time to be responsible, she supposed. Jane still hadn’t emerged from her room, so she stepped back through the sidh into the poppy field. There she found Finn, standing with his hands on his hips, his eyes dark as he eyed the half-eaten bagel in her hands.
    “We do have food here, you know,” he said stiffly, waving a hand at both the sidh to Jane’s apartment and the one leading to the green glen, causing the shimmering air to return to normal.
    “I needed some comfort food,” she muttered. “I can do the sidhe just fine, but the fire is still giving me trouble. Obviously.” She looked ruefully at the blackened field around them, and then wiped a bit of cream cheese off the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
    “Cedar, you can’t keep doing that,” he said. “It’s not safe.”
    “I was careful,” she said, not quite looking at him. “No one saw me.”
    Finn looked like he wanted to argue some more, but instead he asked, “You miss it, don’t you?”
    “I do,” she admitted. “But I also love it here. It’s just…a lot to adjust to, that’s all.”
    He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “I know. It’s a bit different than when we were first dating, isn’t it?”
    She smiled, remembering those carefree days. She had never stopped loving Finn while he was away, but she knew that they’d both changed. It was a peculiar place to be in—sometimes she felt like they had never been apart, and other times she wondered who this strange man was lying next to her, playing father to her child.
    “It means so much to me that you’re here,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair.
    She rested her head on his chest, taking comfort in the steady beating of his heart. These first