Last night, I was convinced I would never get 60 reviews because I didn't have that much of a readership. But since I'm through with all my testing and schooling, I didn't really have much of an excuse not to write, and Nita and the Lone Power kept talking in my head, with the occasional furious word from Kit (He keeps speaking angrily in Spanish, but since I took four years of French, I have no idea what he's saying or what sort of nasty names he's calling me. Perhaps I'm better off not knowing.). But then, I checked the reviews page this morning, more out of habit than out of the expectation that the number would have budged from 55, where it's been for a week. Lo and behold, 60 reviews! So I finished up this chapter. Very little action–it takes place mostly in Nita's mind. Is it 70 reviews I sense?

Sylviamaris—I was going to e-mail you to see what you thought was weird about the Lone Power's words, but you didn't have an address posted. E-mail me a clarification, if you want, so I can see about remedying the situation. This is a work in progress and I'm always open to criticism. No one ever learned anything from a compliment, and I want to improve my writing, so critique away, all of you.

Nita let herself into her house in the early evening, hoping her father and Dairine had not yet arrived. She sighed in relief when she realized the house was still empty. She had decided what she was going to tell her father: absolutely nothing. If only her mother were still alive—she could talk to her...

Nita bit back tears first, and then a wave of shame. I'm sleeping with my mother's killer.

'That is untrue,' his words echoed through her mind again/ 'It was your mother's time, quite apart from any action of my own. I believe I offered you a chance to save her, a chance you did not take.'

And yet...

She shook her head violently, hoping to clear it of its thoughts. A lot of her guilt and self-loathing has dissipated today as she came to the realization that she could either leave him completely or embrace him completely—she could not continue straddling the fence, both hating and loving being with him.

She wished again she had someone to discuss the situation with besides just Him—He was hardly an objective third party that could advise her. Her father was out, as was Dairine, her mother was dead and Kit... well, somehow she didn't think Kit would understand, despite all his patience understanding the other day—yesterday. Had it really been only a day?

Now that she thought about it, Kit was a little too understanding. It was almost as if he already knew, and had planned out what he was going to say to comfort her... But how could he know? Had he been spying on her? If he'd known what she'd done, would he know who Brandon really was? She shook her head again to clear it. She was being paranoid. She had never been good with secrets or dishonesty—now she was practically bathing in both. She could not even lie, not with her wizardry, so she was stuck with half-truths. Yet her wizardry caused her to seek higher truth, full truth, in everything... of course, her wizardry also compelled her to fight the Lone Power—

She sighed, wandering into the kitchen. It greeted her with the remains of the flower delivery, which she scrambled to clean up to avoid awkward questions.

Yes, father, I did get flowers—from Brandon. Well, they aren't here because I had told Brandon only hours before that I wanted him the hell out of my life. Why? Oh, well, you see... he's really the Lone Power, which I discovered right before consented to have sex with him. So, when I got the flowers, I was rather angry about it, so I snatched them up, popped into his room, and threw them at him. We fought, and then we screwed. Then we played with the flowers a little and screwed again. So you see, it's really quite simple to explain...

Yes, that would go over well.

She picked up the vase, rinsed it out, then stashed it in the cabinet with the other vases. Noticing the fallen petal, she picked it up and held it to her face. The flowers. Oh, the moment with the flowers. She sank into a chair as she sank back into her memory of the tenderness of that moment...

"I do hate to say I told you so, but…" He glanced at her wryly, picking up a flower from the floor. Her mind was still turning over his words a moment before. Hypocritical morality bullshit...

"Stop moping." Using the rose, he traced from her navel to her nose and back again. "You should be happy now."

She tensed under the gentle caress of the rose, as it brushed her neck, her face, then began another slow journey from nose to navel. He begin to pluck off petals and lay then on her torso, forming a red fragrant shirt.

Nita lay, transfixed. He moved with such gentle precision and grace. Moments like this made her forget His true identity. For this minute, she was not sleeping with the enemy, but engaged in an intimate moment with a loving, compassionate human.

When he had placed all the petals, He began to remove them, kissing each bare patch of skin as He revealed it. When he took off the last petal, He kissed her full on the mouth. She returned the kiss, too dizzy with pleasure to do anything else.

"I knew the flowers would bring you back," He whispered into her ear. "I wanted to gloat more before, but I was afraid that pesky pride of yours might overrule your desire for me."

The tender moment shattered. "I hate you," Nita spat, reminding herself more than him as anger manifested itself, the one tangible, easily identifiable feeling arising out of her confused emotions.

"We can work with that," he grinned lecherously and pulled her back to him for an entirely different experience.

A door slammed, jolting her from her reverie.

"We're home!" her father called. "Are you?"

"In–in the kitchen," she returned, shoving the note and the petal into her pocket.

Her father appeared, laden down with bags.

"I thought you might be a Brandon's." He dumped the bags on the table.

"I spent a lot of time with him yesterday," she said, following her father back out to the car to unload. And last night and this morning and all day today, really...

Dairine, flushed with excitement, babbled on and on about the weekend, but Nita could barely concentrate.

"...next time, you and Brandon should come with us, it was so much fun, and Kit could come, too, 'cause Dad's says we might get a new tent since this one leaks a little and you could stay in the old one as long as it isn't raining, there'd be plenty of room and..."

Nita snorted. Somehow, she didn't think that living in the woods with Brandon, her father, Dairine, and Kit would be the best way to preserve her secret. But then, for the second time in the last two days, she recognized that she was only laughing to keep from crying, realizing what a long path of deception lay before her, if she was going to keep the truth of her relationship hidden.