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Master of the Moon

She hadn't noticed the pointed ears in the dream. Or the smell of magic that clung to everybody in the room like a very expensive cologne. "What in God's name are you?" Diana demanded, instinctively tensing for combat.

The blond man leaned back in Gist's chair, a very male smile curling his handsome mouth. "Actually, I'm the King of the Fairies."

She'd have been less shocked if he'd coldcocked her. Diana had grown up hearing her grandfather's stories of Merlin, Arthur and the Sidhe from the time she'd been old enough to toddle. "You're King Dearg's son." Remembering one tale in particular, she took a wary step back. "Llyr or Ansgar?"

One of the other three men - he had hair the color of spring grass - squared his impressive shoulders and announced, "You are in the presence of King Llyr Aleyn Galatyn."

Oh, good. The good one.

She'd almost banged Llyr Galatyn. At least in a dream. Granddad would be tickled - if she ever told him, which she wouldn't.

Diana readied herself to transform if necessary, though she knew if they attacked her, she was seriously screwed. Powerful as she was, she wasn't up to taking on four Sidhe warriors. Not if Grandpa's stories had any truth to them at all.

"I'm Diana London." She edged warily away from the dark one. He didn't move. His eyes were so black, they seemed to have no pupil at all. Diana gave him a hard, warning glare before turning to the Sidhe king. "I'm the Verdaville city administrator. Which brings me back to my original point - where the hell do you get off, putting a spell on my police chief?"