The Awakening by Heather Graham

fellow in a tall costume—stopped. He was almost as grotesque as the creature holding her. He wore a brown robe with a cowl, and beneath, a blood red demon mask with crimson horns, huge hooked nose, and obscenely large lips. He had nimble enough fingers—despite the bloodred and crimson latex gloves he was wearing. He spoke to Megan, who laughed as he disentangled her.
    Despite the fact that Megan needed no knight in armor, he was almost compelled to rush forward. A strange sense of jealousy washed over him as if he had been doused with buckets of anger. He clenched his teeth and realized that the guitar string he held had almost gouged through his finger, his grip had gotten so tight. He gave his head a shake, wondering what had possessed him. Megan had walked beneath a prop; she had been entangled. A passerby had politely paused to come to her assistance. And yet . . .
    Something was racing through his bloodstream. Anger. Jealousy. But more. The two had been speared by a sudden and ridiculous flash of stark, cold— fear . A tremendous unease.
    He gave himself a firm mental shake, demanding that he get a grip on himself.
    First, he’d been jealous because a fellow Megan had gone to school with had stopped to talk to her. Now, a casual passerby, helping her out of a predicament, was making his temper soar and his libido take over. Ridiculously.
    â€œFinn? Finn Douglas?”
    He turned. An older woman with bright blue eyes and a cherubic face was smiling at him. She wasn’t in costume, or in a Wiccan’s cape. She wasn’t even wearing black, but rather a lovely sparkling silver dress and shawl.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI’m Martha. Martha Scott. Aunt Martha, to you, young man.”
    â€œWell, hello!” Finn said. “How are you, and what a pleasure to meet you. I know how much you mean to Megan. We were coming by today, but—”
    â€œYes, I heard. Poor Meg, losing that bracelet. She’s not a material girl at all, but she loved that piece when her dad gave it to her. He was great for telling her all the old Irish stories, and it meant a great deal to her. Oh, well, it may turn up! Anyway, I wanted to say a quick hello. I’m afraid this night life is a little too much for an old lady like me. I saw the first set—lovely. Absolutely lovely. But I’m on my way out, so give me a quick kiss on the cheek and we’ll get to know one another later.”
    Finn stepped forward, delighted by the woman. She was quick spoken, matter-of-fact, and charming with her twinkling blue eyes. She made him forget his discomfort.
    He kissed her on the cheek. “We will be by to see you tomorrow.”
    â€œIndeed, you will, young man. You’ve married our little songbird. You will have to abide the family, and actually, I’m a marvelous storyteller—and an excellent cook. I’ll see you for lunch, and that’s that.”
    â€œAbsolutely. We run a little late here.”
    â€œTwo o’clock will be lovely.”
    â€œWe’ll be there.”
    Martha turned and walked away. She was a small woman, trim and compact for her age, and walked as she spoke with a quick, no-nonsense strut.
    â€œFinn!”
    He turned. Joseph was calling him from the other direction. He hadn’t changed for the party. He was dressed as he had been earlier, long black cape over black trousers and black shirt. He grinned, ready to compliment Finn on the music. “You two are great together—I’ve got to hand you that. Morwenna always said that Megan was a little nightingale, and that’s true, but I’ve never seen her better. You do something special for one another.”
    â€œThanks, thanks a lot,” Finn said. Had he misjudged Joseph? Or was he simply so ready to have his ego stroked that he didn’t realize he was being nose-butted, tasted, by some kind of a shark?
    â€œI saw that you met Aunt Martha.”
    â€œYes. Lovely