Light Dragons 03 - Sparks Fly

location we can use that would give the same sense of-oh, I don’t know-something otherworldly.”
    “Otherworldly? Yes, of course I can do that.” She shot me a startled glance that quickly turned speculative, then amused, as if we shared a secret, something that struck me as hugely odd. I had only just met her-how could we share a secret? When Gretl turned to greet an acquaintance who had called her name, Imogen leaned over to me, saying with a little nod at Gretl’s back, “I had no idea you were not mundane.”
    “Er . . .” Mundane? Was she making a dig at Gretl? I bristled righteously in defense of a much-loved cousin. “I’ve always thought of myself as something . . . different, but just because Gretl chose a more traditional path in life doesn’t mean she’s not a wonderful person.”
    “Of course she’s wonderful. She’s been my friend for many years.” Imogen smiled and squeezed my arm briefly. “And we all feel different at some time or other, don’t we? At least until we settle in with our own kind. But who exactly are you? I realize it is rude to just come right out and ask you, but I’m sure you do not wish to speak of your true nature in front of dear Gretl.”
    I blinked at her, once again taken aback and unsure of how to respond, but luckily Gretl finished her chat and turned back to us, so I was content to simply smile in answer to Imogen’s wink, and made a mental note to ask Gretl or her daughter to accompany me on the photo shoot. It was becoming clear that Imogen was a few apples shy of spiced cider.
    “Oh, there is Benedikt and Fran. Come. I must introduce you both to them. Benedikt will be delighted to see you again, Gretl.”
    I followed as Imogen bustled off with Gretl in tow over to where a tall man with shoulder-length black hair stood with a woman who was almost as tall as he was. The woman, who faced me, looked to be in her early twenties.
    “Well, now, that’s interesting,” I murmured to myself, eyeing the woman named Fran. No matter how good Imogen looked, she had to be nearing fifty for Gretl to have known her for thirty years. Which meant her brother was either older than he looked, or he was a whole lot younger than Imogen. “Even if there is a big age difference,” I said as I strolled toward them, “he would be close to my age.”
    And yet his wife was probably twenty-two or -three. I glanced at Gretl as the couple stepped forward to greet her. A puzzled frown pulled her brows together for an instant before she smiled, quickly returning to her usual charming self. When the man turned to greet me, I saw why Gretl had frowned. I stared at him for a moment, unable to believe what I was seeing. He was in his mid- to late twenties, at least ten years younger than me, which meant Imogen was old enough to be his mother. Not an unknown situation, but not a common one, either. I realized that everyone was staring at me as I gawked so obviously at Imogen’s handsome, much, much younger brother, and I pulled my wits together.
    “Sorry,” I murmured, shaking first his hand, then Fran’s. She gave me an amused glance before leaning into her husband, her arm around his waist in a possessive move that I’d have had to be blind to miss.
    I chuckled to myself, wanting to assure her that I might be single and not averse to finding a man, but I wasn’t about to stoop to husband stealing and cradle robbing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I murmured.
    “Iolanthe wishes to take my picture tomorrow,” Imogen told her brother. “She is a photographer. She wishes to take me somewhere otherworldly .”
    The emphasis Imogen put on the word seemed to have some meaning for them, because they both raised their eyebrows for a few seconds. Ben slid a gaze to Gretl before returning it to me, saying in a low voice that couldn’t have been heard by anyone but his wife and me, “Are you with the Court of Divine Blood? I don’t recognize what you are, but I’m not very familiar with members of the Court.”
    “I’m a woman,” I answered, ironically echoing Imogen’s words as I moved a few steps away from him. Clearly there was some sort of mental instability in Imogen’s family.
    “Yes, of course you are,” Fran said with a comforting smile that I didn’t for one minute buy. Ben turned to answer a question Gretl asked him, leaving Fran chatting with me in a low voice. “What Ben meant was what are you? You’re not a therion or a Guardian or a