Hounded

no doubt dispelling the charm. She’d forgotten she had it on. I pretended not to notice.
    She arched an eyebrow at me. » So. I was telling you all that? What if one of your customers hears us talking about covens and such things? «
    » We’re in the perfect place to talk of them. They’ll assume you’re Wiccan. And if you’re going to go way back in history and anyone is rude enough to interrupt and ask you about it, like that guy who just left, we’ll say we’re part of the SCA. «
    Her brow crinkled in confusion. » The Society for Cruelty to Animals? «
    » No, I think you mean the SPCA, where the P stands for Prevention. «
    » Ah. Of course. «
    I shot a quick thought to Oberon. See? Witches .
    › I see what you mean now. She’d probably give me a sausage and it would have broccoli in it. ‹
    Trying not to laugh at Oberon’s one-track mind, I said, » Yes, well, the SCA is the Society for Creative Anachronism. People get together and dress in medieval garb and actually have battles in armor and everything. Lots of these modern folk romanticize the old days and enjoy role-playing. It’s the perfect cover for talking about magic in front of average people. «
    She scrutinized me closely for a moment, trying to decide whether I was lying or not. Apparently satisfied, she took a breath and said, » Very well. The short version of the long story is that she came with me to America. We were living in the city of Krzepice in Poland when the Blitzkrieg arrived in September 1939. I saved her from being raped, and she sort of became my responsibility after that. I couldn’t just leave her. Her parents were dead. «
    » Ah. Your parents as well? «
    » Yes, but the Nazis had nothing to do with that. « She smiled grimly. » I was already seventy-two in 1939. «
    You hear that? The nice blonde in her thirties is actually more than 140 years old .
    › She must use that Oil of Olay stuff. I wonder if it would get rid of the wrinkles on a shar-pei? ‹
    » Impressive. And Emily was how old? «
    » She was only sixteen. «
    » She still acts like she’s sixteen. Is everyone in your coven from Krzepice? «
    » No, only Emily and me. We all came to America together, however, once we found one another in Poland. «
    » And you came straight to Tempe? «
    » No, we have lived in several cities. But we have stayed here the longest. «
    » Why, may I ask? «
    » No doubt for the same reason you have stayed here. Few old gods, few old ghosts, and, until recently, no Fae at all. Now, I have answered five questions truthfully. Will you answer five of mine in the same fashion? «
    » Truthfully, yes. Not necessarily completely. «
    She accepted my qualification without comment. » How old are you? « she asked.
    That’s one of the most probing questions you can ask someone who isn’t a standard human anymore. It was one way to gauge power and intelligence, and if she didn’t already know my age, then I would rather keep it that way. I prefer to be underestimated; fights go better for me when my enemies do not know what they’re truly dealing with. There is an opposing school of thought that says if you display your power, you avoid getting into fights in the first place—but that is true only in the short term. Enemies may not confront you openly or as often if they know you’re powerful, but they will still plot against you and be more likely to try something sneaky. Now, Malina had been very forthcoming with me about her age, but I didn’t feel comfortable responding with the same level of candor, because telling her would be telling the whole coven. So I settled for a dodge.
    » At least as old as Radomila. «
    That set her back a bit. She was wondering if she should ask how I knew Radomila’s age or let it slide. I didn’t know Radomila’s age, but I knew damn well I was older than she was. Malina was smart, though, and decided to ask other things instead of following up on a line of query that wouldn’t get her anything more specific.
    » Aenghus Óg told Emily you have a sword that belongs to him. Is this true? «
    I chose to answer only part of the question. Sloppy of her. » No. It does not belong to him. «
    She hissed in frustration, seeing her mistake. » Do you still have this sword he believes is his? «
    » Yes, I do. « It occurred to me that it was odd of her to be asking me about it, because Radomila had been the one to slap a magical cloak on it. Did Malina not talk to her coven leader?
    »