“How do you know about my dinner with Ryder?”
She blinked once, gave me the owl eyes. “Oh, I must have heard it from someone.”
“Crow?”
She tried for the innocent, confused look again, but her mouth shifted into a mischievous grin. “Trickster gods, amiright? That Crow. He’s just so…Crow.”
“He is a pain in my neck,” I grumbled as I swiped up my purchases and gave her a stern look. “If you see him, tell him he is not invited to the dinner.”
“Got it. Not invited.” She grinned like a crazy person. “I am sure telling him that will definitely keep him away.”
“It better,” I said, “if he knows what’s good for him.” I waved, pushed out the door, and let it tinkle shut on her laughter.
* * *
I was standing at the foot of the bed in my underwear and bra when my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ryder.
6:00followed by a smiley face.
I tapped the thumbs up icon and went back to scowling at the clothing spread on the end of the bed. Jeans, a clean white tank top, that soft gray sweater.
Or the damned white and blue dress Cheryl had shoved in the bag, and charged me for, when I wasn’t looking.
I rubbed at my forehead. The dress was too much, right? It was pushing things, maybe hinting at things we were not talking about. Rings. Vows. Marriage.
But my eyes kept going to the dress, to the memory of how I’d pulled it out of the bag muttering, “You have got to be kidding me,” over and over again. And when I’d thrown it onto the bed, it had landed in pretty little folds and swishes of fabric.
“No. I am not going to make some kind of statement at the first nice meal we’ve had together in weeks. Nice try, Cheryl.”
I scooped the dress back into the bag and put on the tank top, sweater, and jeans.
Eight minutes left. I ran the brush through my hair, patted the dragon pig, patted the dog, then strolled out of the house without a care in the world.
But that soft fog surrounded me, filled my mind again.
I drifted up, still tethered, but somehow outside my body. I watched as I opened the Jeep, got behind the wheel. I watched myself start the car and checked the mirrors before putting it in gear.
What was I doing? I wanted to scream. Tried to. But the me behind the wheel drove safely and conservatively until I pulled up in front of my childhood home, where I’d lived until I’d started staying with Ryder.
It was built on top of a hill where tough coastal pines held out against the sandy soil and hard winds, their branches twisted and frozen in an easterly direction as if there were phantom breezes forever pushing them that way.
The steep concrete stairs were carpeted with pine and leaf debris, soft and familiar under my shoes as I walked up.
At the top, I unlocked the door and stepped into the house.
“Disable the alarm,” the voice said.
It was still weird to even have an alarm, but my sisters had gone out of their way to make sure I stayed safe by locking the door when I was home.
See how well that worked out?
I punched in the code.
“Perfect,” he said. “Come into the living room.”
The living room was tiny. A small table had been set up in the middle of it with a piece of chalk, a candle, and a brass bowl on top of it.
I’d seen enough spellcraft in my life to know something—something bad—was about to go down.
