My list only had one option left.
Edie’s suggestion. Everyone else I knew had already told me that option was useless. Magic—that kind anyway—had died out a century ago, they all said. But they all failed to realize the only alternative I had left was to go sit on a porch swing somewhere and just wait for the damned Grim Reaper to show. Not my style.
None of them understood what it felt like waking up every day and wondering if it would be your last.
Dying sucked. Dying twice sucked even more. I’d already come close once so I could hardly expect the same sympathy now that it was happening a second time.
I made my way over a fallen tree and trekked onward, headed for the airport and then, ultimately, California. I’d already done my homework. I knew where to go next. The question was whether or not it was too late. If magic was really dead, so was I.
Chapter One
Sam
Creeper Alley was a dead zone tonight. Between the fog, the lunar cycle, and the fact that most witches in Half Moon Bay were also PTA moms, I shouldn’t have been surprised to find the place deserted after eight o’clock on a weeknight. But even knowing that, unease skittered down my spine as I turned the corner and made my way down the narrow alleyway.
I shivered, more from nerves than chill thanks to the balmy sixty-five degree temperature of northern California. My boots clicked and echoed against the pavement, making me wish I’d worn moccasins instead. Or maybe an invisibility cloak—not that I had one. Although, Mirabelle, my boss might. I wouldn’t put anything past her. Not that I wanted any part of the actual magic. I was just the delivery girl.
My phone buzzed in my hands as I passed Jane Jingle’s year-round Christmas store. Which also doubled as a fortune-telling hot spot for those in the know. How either one of those things paid her bills was the real magic and mystery, if you asked me. My phone buzzed a second time and I read two texts from Brittany, my roommate.
Borrowing your hooker skirt.
And your hooker boots. Don’t wait up.
Brittany and I had been forced into a dorm room our freshman year at Coastal California University. Despite the fact that she was basically the girl I used to be but now loathed, we’d somehow made it work. This year, thanks to me getting a job and her dad’s “allowance” check each month, we could just barely afford to live off campus in a tiny two-bedroom apartment. Brittany had plenty of money and time to shop, but raiding my closet was her favorite thing to do when I wasn’t home. Which was always. And it wasn’t like I wore half of that stuff anymore.
I sighed. The cheerleader with the social life struck again. That used to be my description back in high school. Not anymore.
I returned to my lock screen, finger hovering over the emergency call button, and kept walking, faster now. In my other hand, I clutched tightly to the brown paper bag that contained tonight’s delivery.
Almost there…
Movement at my ankle startled me and I jumped back, barely swallowing the scream that died once I recognized my companion. A black cat with the patchiest white patterns around her paws I’d ever seen was making loops around my ankles.
“Dammit, Granny,” I muttered.
Granny, the cat, walked close beside me, and for reasons that would sound insane aloud, I was glad she’d followed me tonight. It meant I wasn’t out here alone. Not really. Although, I had a feeling things were bad if I was relying on a cat for company.
“Evening, Samantha.”
The sound of a male voice startled me and I faltered, gritting my teeth as I spotted Bernard tipping his trademark flat cap at me as he passed. Bernard, otherwise known as the resident “nice guy” and friend to all store owners of Creeper Alley, was the least scary guy I’d ever met. Which was why my heart rate was only at Defcon level three instead of five.
“Evening, Bernard,” I returned, forcing a smile. Bernard was one of the few men who didn’t panic me on sight. Still … it was dark. And we were alone. “What brings you out here?”
“With Kiwi gone, Dave’s hosting the group meditation circle,” he said. “We were going to have it here but…” He cast a glance toward the end of the alley where I was headed, and said, “We’ve moved it to the house for privacy.”
“I see,” I said even though I didn’t.
Bernard lowered his voice. “Not everyone felt comfortable going sky clad in the store.”
“Weird,” I muttered, barely containing an eye roll. Dave’s store was a glass-front shop that sold fish and other small pets. I wouldn’t want to get naked in there either.
“I’m headed over now. You want to come?”
“Sorry. Duty calls,” I said, holding up the paper bag.
He frowned. “I’m surprised Mirabelle has you making deliveries this late—and on a night such as this one.”
I shrugged, noting his glance upward at a moonless sky. “Magic never sleeps. Isn’t that what they say?”
He smiled. “Don’t believe I’ve heard that one.”
“How about Indra never sleeps.”
He chuckled. “Now that one I believe. You be sure to get home as soon as your delivery’s finished. No sense in tempting the fates. Mercury’s in retrograde, you know.”
“No sense,” I agreed sagely. And although I didn’t give two rats’ asses whether Mercury was in retrograde or centigrade or anywhere else, I pretended I did. I’d learned a long time ago not to debate these things—or worse, let them know I didn’t care. “Well, good night,” I said, waving as Bernard headed up the street.
I forced a long, deep breath to normalize my pulse as best I could and then power-walked to Indra’s. Hers was last on the block and the only store that wasn’t pretending to be something else. I guess if you made it this far from the touristy part of town, you knew what you were looking for.
A small bell chimed from nowhere and everywhere as I entered, although no bell was visible. Several times over the past few months, the sound had changed. Tonight, it was new again. I inhaled, letting the door click shut, and caught a musky, heavy scent in the air. Definitely sandalwood but something else too.
My nose twitched but I refused to sneeze.
I did a quick scan of the front room. Statues of Buddha heads and Greek gods filled this room. Tall, stone things that ranged from gothic to contemporary to ornate. I had no idea where she imported them from, but they smelled old.
Meow.
Granny brushed against my leg and I patted her head before wandering farther. I hadn’t even seen her dart inside before I closed the door. That cat was good.
“Indra?” I called.
No answer.
Indra’s store layout was different than the others. Carved out of the back crescent of the alleyway, it twisted and turned into three or four showrooms that all wound around to a reading room. I’d never seen any customers take her up on it, but then I didn’t venture back this far. Usually, Indra met me at the front so I rarely made it past the Wicca book section. Her store was the only other one in town that was even remotely like Oracle, where I worked. Indra’s had more variety and more … creep-factor. Oracle was what Mirabelle had dubbed “mainstream.” I liked that it didn’t give me goose bumps like this one did.
Indra’s store was named after her. One simple, nondescript word. She did “a little of this and a little of that” according to the other shop-owners and various peculiar practitioners in town. Indra herself had never offered up a specific term for what she was or the services she provided.
Cagey. I was going with cagey.
Tentatively, I made my way around the shelving and up the main aisle. The front desk area was empty. No Indra. I kept walking past a display of singing bowls and lapis lazuli prayer beads. The other showrooms were also empty. No customers. No Indra. No sound.
I walked past a wall full of jars labeled things like “snake root.”
My unease stepped up a notch. Retrograde aside, I hated this part of the job on any day of the week. Fleshing out creepy characters af
ter dark was not helping my tendencies for irrational fear and panic. Mirabelle needed to hire someone else for deliveries. Maybe Bernard was available. I was a cashier, dammit. I sold sage and helped tourists look up things like Iowasca ceremonies on the internet.
As if to prove I was a coward, Granny led the way, fearless, with her tail high and pointed as she disappeared around a display of essential oils that I’d never actually heard of. Corn mint? Was that a thing?
My phone beeped with a text and I let out a chirp that was one frayed nerve from a scream. I checked it and rolled my eyes. Aunt Kiwi. She’d just landed in Guam, her birthplace, for her two-month stay with our extended family. I gritted my teeth and kept walking.
Up ahead, dancing light reflected off the wall, and I stopped short as I rounded the corner of the last showroom.
Candles had been lit and set out in a large circle around the floor. The table that usually sat in the center was gone, replaced by a Pentagram shape that looked painted on with what I was going to call nail polish.
How had I never noticed that weirdness? Oh yeah, I never came this far inside. Rule number one of being Sam Knight: don’t go inside strange shops run by ethereal-looking goddess-women.
“Hello, Samantha.”
I whirled.
Indra stood in the archway leading to showroom two, blocking me from the rest of the store. And, more importantly, the exit. Her long chestnut hair was braided to the side, revealing a black strapless gown with a sinfully low-cut bodice. She had a perfect hour-glass shape and a sultry slouch that you couldn’t teach. She was beautiful, and young enough that I wondered every time I saw her how she had her own place.
Although, it was hard to guess her age when you looked right at her. Her features were confusing. Like you couldn’t quite remember what you’d seen when you looked away.
She was the only other person I was friendly with besides Mirabelle. Possibly because she’d lent me a tampon the first time I’d come here three months ago, and a girl doesn’t forget a thing like that.
“You look hot,” I said, offering a smile as I gave her dress another once-over.
Two years ago, I would have killed for a dress like that—and someone to take it off me later. Now, I couldn’t imagine wanting to stand out like that. I shoved the thought aside and focused on Indra.
“What’s the occasion? Hot date with the underworld?” I gestured to the setup behind me with the candles.
Indra laughed and came forward to take the bag of supplies I’d brought. “Something like that,” she said. “Sorry for calling you out so late. I totally forgot to order everything ahead.”
I shrugged. “A girl’s gotta get her exercise somehow.”
She opened the bag, stuck her nose inside, and inhaled. “I appreciate it. Any trouble out there?” The question was innocuous enough, but Indra knew me—and we both knew it was a valid inquiry.
“Nah. All the PTA parents are home by now. Bernard says hello.”
Indra’s brows rose. “Bernard was still hanging around?”
“Just leaving Dave’s store as I came in. It’s fine,” I said, taking in her worried frown. God, she even frowned beautifully. It wasn’t fair. “He’s harmless. Seriously. It’s not an issue.”
“I still don’t know how you don’t freak out around him,” she said, shaking her head and sort of gliding into the center of her circle. She set the bag down and crouched beside it, removing the various jars, candles, and dried flowers I’d brought her. “Every other male on the planet freaks you out. But not him. Yet, he gives me the creeps.”
“Well, when you walk around looking like that,” I said, gesturing to her not-quite-spilling-out cleavage, “you’re bound to get a different vibe from men than I do.”
Indra looked up and smirked. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“Oh, I know what these jeans do for me,” I said on a laugh. “And it’s not the same thing that dress is doing for you.”
“Strange.” Indra picked up one of the jars and peered at it closely. “I ordered this dead.”
“The spider?” I said, stepping closer and spotting, sure enough, a very alive eight-legged spider moving around the closed jar. “I swear it was dead when I put it in the bag.”
“Interesting.” Indra glanced up at me and then set the spider aside.
“I can go back and get another one,” I said, fully aware of the resignation in my tone.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” she said and I cringed thinking about what that meant.
Somewhere, an invisible clock began to chime the hour. I looked around but, just like the bell at the front door, couldn’t quite figure out which direction it was coming from. Granny slid around my ankles, mewling loudly over the sound of the chimes.
When it fell silent, Indra rose, eyeing me. Like a switch had been flipped, her entire demeanor changed. She cleared her throat, her expression shuttering to a cold sort of blankness. Granny only mewled louder and butted against my leg even harder.
“It’s time,” Indra said as if it were the answer to a question I’d just asked. Then she smiled, baring her teeth.
“Uh.” I swallowed.
She took a step forward, even her body language suddenly different. I shivered and took a step back.
“Right. Time for me to head out,” I said cheerily—as if she hadn’t just become Nancy from The Craft.
I turned and bolted without waiting for her answer, Granny close on my heels. Mirabelle’s friends were the weirdest people ever. Also, I needed a new job.
Chapter Two
Alex
I slung my bag higher on my shoulder and re-read the address in the text message, comparing it to the house number I was currently parked in front of. I squinted against the dying daylight; sure as shit, the numbers matched. This was it. I cut the engine and left the keys in the visor. Terminal or not, my senses were still good, and something told me this old Victorian boasted a pretty safe—and completely human—neighborhood. My old truck would be fine.
Aged but well-kept, the house was two-story with a sharp slant on the roof that suggested more of a loft than a full second floor. The yard was mowed, the weeds trimmed, and the mailbox freshly painted. There was even an old rocking chair tucked into the alcove on the porch complete with what looked like a knitted cushion on the seat. If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed some old retiree lived inside.
But my intel was good. And the only person living here was more likely to stab something with a knitting needle than actually knit anything. Still, I was already impressed. This guy was clearly good at blending in. Even so, habits were ingrained. I took a big inhale just to be sure as I made my way to the front door to check for myself. Yep, no fur beasts on my radar. Good. One less thing to worry about. At least the house was secure.
Hopefully, my new roomie would be solid. Or at the very least, anti-social and not interested in asking a lot of questions. That was my type. Always had been—even before I’d gotten sick and opted for not telling the powers-that-be about it.
I climbed the two steps and knocked, listening for footsteps, but there was no sound from inside. I dropped my bag to the worn porch planks at my feet and blew out a breath, debating my next steps. I really needed this guy to be home so I could get into a room with a bed and crash out.
Hopefully tonight, I’d be too tired to dream. I was getting pretty sick of the same recurring image: a strange woman in black who kept watching me and petting an angry-looking hawk on her arm.
I had a feeling my current level of exhaustion was going to win out. That red-eye from my layover in Mexico City was seriously catching up to me right about now. Either that or the venom was doing its dirtiest. I’d been more and more fatigued lately.
Without warning, the front door opened and an olive-skinned guy with dark dreads smiled at me. “Bro, you’re Alex Channing,” he said as if he’d just cracked the code to an important secret. His feet were bare and apparently he had
experience with stealth because I hadn’t sensed him coming at all. I blinked and he added, “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Right. You must be RJ.” I offered my hand, studying him, sizing him up.
“Raymond Duluth,” he confirmed. “Everyone calls me RJ.” He shook my hand and then used it to pull me inside before letting go again. “Come on in, man. Glad you made it.”
I doubled back, grabbed my bag, and followed him in, unsure if I’d done the right thing in letting Edie call in this favor. But I’d needed a place off CHAS’s record and supposedly RJ hadn’t minded taking in a stray while he was undercover. His email had said he was gone a lot. Which worked well for me since I didn’t want to share too much about why I’d come. I wasn’t looking for a bud.
But now here he was, all friendly and smiling and obviously hoping we’d be friends. I trusted Edie Godfrey. But I didn’t know this guy. And I didn’t want to.
“So, I rented the place from a holding company. I mean, CHAS put it together but I’ve never done business with the owner. All digital, you know,” he explained, gesturing to the open living room separated from the kitchen and eat-in dining area by a narrow foyer that led upstairs. “But it’s pretty straight up. Good repair, nothing really broken. The floor and stairs creak a little, but otherwise she’s solid.” He rapped his knuckles on the wall and turned to me, eyes wide as if looking for some sort of approval. “What do you think?”
“Where’s my room?” I asked.
“Sure, man, this way.” If I offended him, he was a pro at hiding it. But I had to let him know we were not here for sleepovers and pillow fights. It was better this way—for everyone. I mean, I didn’t even know if I’d wake up tomorrow. These days, keeping the circle of friends to a minimum was best for all parties. Whether they knew why or not.
I followed him up the creaking stairs and found I’d guessed right. It was split in half with two bedrooms taking up the entire floor. I spotted a surf board leaning against the wall beside the room on the right. RJ led me to the left.
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