Author's note: This chapter is long and there isn't a lot of Abe or Hellboy goodness in it, but I promise that they will be back next chapter. So please bear with me.

Abe's hand caresses my bare thigh. With no clothing impeding its travel, it slowly travels up over my hip, my waist, my rib cage until he reaches my breast. I moan with the pleasure of his touch. My breathing is ragged with emotion. All the while he's kissing me. First it's my lips, then my chin, my neck, my collar bone, my breast bone…

RIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG

I sit straight up in bed, panting. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.

RIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG

As I reach over for the phone, I think of several nasty things I'd like to say to Alexander Graham Bell if he was here. Then I pick up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Miss Cavendish?" asks a man on the other end. The voice sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it yet.

"This is Miss Cavendish. Who is this, please?" I answer as I try to suppress a yawn.

"Miss Cavendish, this is Dr. Manning." Peachy. Just what I needed first thing in the morning, a call from the king of the bureaucrats.

"Dr. Manning I asked you to send me the bill, not to call me about it. For that matter, how did you know where to find me?" I ask.

"I checked your recent credit card charge, that's how I knew where to find you." I hate the government. "Miss Cavendish, I'm not calling about the cleaning bill, I'm calling about Abe."

Now I'm fully awake. "What about Abe?" Just mentioning his name causes a sudden burning need. I think I'm losing my mind.

"He's sitting at the bottom of his tank, he won't talk to anyone and he's not eating," says Manning in a rather accusing tone. "According to Miss Sherman you were leaving when she returned to the bureau and Abe was there. I want to know what you did to him."

"I didn't do anything to him," I tell him. How dare he accuse me like that! Suddenly, I hear voices arguing on the other end of the line.

"Hey, Cavendish," snarls Hellboy. "What the hell did you do to my buddy?"

"I repeat, I didn't do anything to him," I say, trying to keep my voice calm. "Why don't you ask him what he did to me!?"

I slam down the phone and then unplug it. A minute later I hear the phones in the living room and bathroom start ringing. I lie down and cover my head with a pillow. After about 15 minutes the phones stop ringing. Then I can hear my cell phone ringing in my purse. I ignore it, and after several tries, they give up on that one too.

After my anger runs out, I just lay there consumed with guilt. I was such an emotional mess yesterday morning; I never stopped to think what my actions would do to Abe. I curl up in a ball and cry. I feel like I want to die.

The next thing I know, I'm being shaken awake by my grandmother.

"Get up, child," she's saying. "We're supposed to be having brunch at Sharon's in one hour. Now get yourself up and get ready."

I sit up and swing my legs over the side, rubbing my eyes with my hand. My head is throbbing again. I've got to stop crying myself to sleep.

"Good heavens, child, what is that you are wearing?" she asks.

I look down and realize I packed my regular pjs instead of the really expensive ones. The expensive ones are long and flowing and may look nice, but the lace itches and they always get twisted around my legs when I'm sleeping. Instead I'm wearing baggy shorts and a t-shirt, something nice and comfortable. It's also a major fashion no-no in my grandmothers' book.

"We're going to have to get you something more appropriate to wear," she says. "We'll see what we can do later, but right now, you need to get a move on."

I drag myself out of bed and head for the bathroom. I quickly shower and get dressed into something that should meet my grandmothers' approval. I grab my purse, go through the open adjoining doors, and find my grandmother on the phone. She looks up and sees me.

"Ah, good, she's ready," she says into the phone. "We'll be there soon."

She hangs up the phone and just stares at me.

"We're going to have to do something about your wardrobe," she says. "Come along, Kirk is waiting for us."

She gets up and heads out the door with me in her wake. We get to the elevator and wait.

"So what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I ask her. The elevator doors open.

"It's out of fashion," she answers as she walks into the elevator. I follow.

"It's a classic style," I say.

"Not any more it's not," she says.

Pause.

"It could go retro."

"Bite your tongue, child."

A moment later the elevator door opens and we head out across the lobby. The heels of our shoes click across the marble flooring. My feet are already starting to ache from wearing dress shoes, and the thought of wearing them all week makes my head throb even more. Then we're down the lobby stairs and out the front door where Kirk is waiting for us with the limo door open.

We head down Park Avenue to 65th Street and turn left. Then we drive through Central Park. Finally, we turn left onto Central Park West and pull up to a very nice apartment building. We get out and head into the lobby where we are greeted by my cousins' butler. We're taken to the penthouse suite.

As soon as we're through the foyer, Sharon descends upon us wearing the latest in post-maternity clothing. Her blond hair and makeup are done to perfection. Hugs and kisses are distributed all around, and then she leads us to a bassinette off to the side of the room. Inside is my new cousin. She's asleep, but that doesn't stop Grandmother from picking her up and cuddling her. You can say what you want about my grandmother, but she does love babies. Maybe that's why she had four of her own.

We move out onto the terrace where a table has been set for three. There's already a carafe of coffee waiting for us. The butler pours three cups and I smile my thanks as he hands me mine. Sharon and Grandmother barely acknowledge that they now have been served. They're to busy talking about the baby, family, and the latest gossip. I go out to the railing and admire the panoramic view of New York City and Central Park. I see the sun reflect off the Lake. The sight of water makes my mind drift back to this morning's phone call and I start feeling guilty all over again.

"Hey, Maggie," says Sharon, breaking into my guilt trip. "Aren't you going to come and see Vicki?"

"Of course," I say, smiling. "I just thought I'd let Grandmother have first dibs on her."

I walk back to the table and take my seat next to Grandmother.

"Good heavens, Maggie," says Sharon. "What happened to your face?"

I had totally forgotten about the scratches on my face. Has it only been two days since that ride? It seems like a lifetime ago.

"I took Magick for a ride on Saturday, and something spooked him," I reply. "We had quite the wild ride through the brush before I stopped him."

It's not the whole truth, but it's not a lie either. I know that I can't lie to them. It's impossible to lie to a Mage. To forestall any more questions about the ride, I hold my arms out toward my grandmother.

"Would you like me to check her?" I ask.

"Yes, please," answers Sharon excitedly. Every Mage family has one member who can tell whether or not a new baby will be a Mage. In my family, it's me. Grandmother hands me the small bundle and I carefully take her. Then I "feel" for her power. It's there, strong and steady. I look at Sharon and smile. A large smile lights up Sharon's face. She's looking very proud.

I've held every baby in my family since I was sixteen, but before now, I never really felt anything. I look back down at the beautiful little being in my arms. I examine her tiny pink hands and face, and for the first time in my life, I want one of my own.

"Don't look now, Grandmother," Sharon's voice breaks into my reverie. "But Maggie's getting maternal."

I quickly look up and see them both staring at me with smiles on their faces. I can feel my own face flushing. I stick my tongue out at Sharon, and then I sit back in my chair and get comfortable with Vicki nestled in my arms.

Grandmother gets up to go use the bathroom, and Sharon takes her seat.

"What's his name?" she asks.

"Who's name?" I respond, looking up at her.

"You're in love," she says. "I can see it in your face when you look at Vicki. So, what's his name?"

"Don't be ridiculous," I tell her. "When do I have time to go out meeting men, much less falling in love?"

"But you have," she continues. "And if I didn't know better, I'd say that you've even been Kissed."

I can feel my face flush again. I look down at Vicki and try to think of something to change the subject.

"HA!" she laughs. "I was right. You have been Kissed. So, what's his name?"

I sigh. I know that there's no way around it, so I just give in.

"If you promise not to tell Grandmother, I'll tell you," I say. She nods. "His name is Abe."

"Abe? That's an unusual name, but it's nice," she says. "So, when do I get to meet him?"

"You don't," I tell her.

"Why not?" she asks.

"It's complicated," I tell her.

"But…" she starts. At that moment, Grandmother returns followed by the maid and butler who are carrying our brunch. The rest of the day is pleasant, if a bit lonely for me. I make sure I don't give Sharon another chance to ask me about Abe. As hard as I try to concentrate on what's happening, my mind keeps wandering back to him and the guilt that is starting to eat a hole into my soul.