“No.” She sat up straighter in the chair. “I’m happy here. I’m actually glad I got kicked out of the coven. I only wish I’d had the guts to leave on my own a long time ago. I wish I hadn’t waited for those foul bitches to throw me out. I shouldn’t have given them the satisfaction.”

  Before I could answer, Hellcat stuck his head around the corner into the hallway and looked left and right. “Has that Hound from Hell vacated the premises yet?”

  I frowned at him. “If you mean Lorcan, yes, he went home about an hour ago.”

  Astrid laughed. “Your name is Hellcat and you’re calling Lorcan a Hound from Hell?”

  “Hellcat is not my given name, red-headed witch,” the cat spat back at her.

  “Don’t bother trying to reason with him,” I told her, shaking my head. “Reason doesn’t enter into his thought process.”

  Hellcat sauntered into the bedroom, sat down a few feet between Astrid and me, and bestowed a superior glance at each of us.

  “Why are you here, Hellcat?” I asked.

  “As it happens, I was transacting business that unequivocally impacts your prospects in the extreme near future.”

  I raised one eyebrow. “Really? What were you doing? Planning to sell my organs to black market brokers?”

  Astrid guffawed out loud. Hellcat rounded on her with an even more disdainful dip of his eyelids. “If this arrogant nursling will restrain herself for a few seconds, I will…”

  “Me? Arrogant?” Astrid exclaimed, looking at me with wide eyes. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black, pal.”

  Hellcat ignored her. “I was compiling intelligence on the whereabouts of scouts venturing south from the Seattle vampire family.” He wrinkled his nose at me. “Do you surmise that such intelligence might prove relevant to your imminent and impending future?”

  “It might… if you found anything.”

  “I discovered,” Hellcat intoned, “that certain members of the Medford coven of witches have been doing background research on you in the last two weeks.” My eyes widened as a smile took hold of Hellcat’s face, making him appear decidedly demonic. “Now do I have your attention?”

  My mind was racing. Why would the Medford coven check up on me? Haven Hollow didn’t even show up on their radar… or it shouldn’t have.

  I’d legally claimed sanctum in Haven Hollow. I’d staked my claim on this town—it was mine. And I had a seat on the Council, as the only witch in Haven Hollow. This town being a dot on the map shouldn’t have made any difference. No other witch, no matter who she was or what her pedigree, could interfere with my activities within town limits. So why was the Medford Coven looking into my actions?

  “Wanda?” Astrid’s voice quavered. “Why would the Medford coven want to find out about you?”

  Why, indeed? “I’m sure it’s nothing.” I shook my doubts away. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “If it’s true…”

  “Of course it’s true,” Hellcat interrupted Astrid, giving her a look that could freeze water.

  “Then you should look into it,” Astrid told me. “Someone could be stalking you.”

  “No one is stalking me—except the vampires we already know about.” And then it dawned on me. “Actually…”

  “Actually what?” Astrid pressed when I didn’t finish my sentence.

  I looked at her. “I’ve been working on a dress for a raging Bridezilla and apparently she’s from Medford, so I’m sure the Medford coven is looking into why she wasn’t going to them to get the enchantments on her dress from one of their local witches, especially because she was some bigwig editor from a popular wedding magazine.”

  “How would they even know about her?” Astrid asked.

  I shrugged. “The supernatural community is a small one and it appeared this woman or at least her mother, had money. Neither of them balked at the $20,000 I charged for the dress. And any coven would consider a wealthy human of interest. So, the coven probably merely followed her from Medford to Haven Hollow.”

  “Hmm, could you get into trouble for helping her?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. It’s not my fault she came to Haven Hollow.” I stood up. “I’m going to bed. You need to get some sleep, too, young lady. You’ve got school tomorrow, don’t forget.”

  “How could I?” she grumbled as she stood up and started for her room.

  I didn’t want to think about the Medford coven, but after I’d gotten under my nice warm covers again and turned off the light, I couldn’t think about anything else.

  I kept seeing the twisted, grizzled scowl on Ronda’s mother’s face. Was she a witch in the Medford coven? She sure smirked like she knew exactly what was going on when I’d cursed Gemma. And yet… if she was a witch, how come I hadn’t picked up on it as soon as she’d walked through my door?

  Well, you did pick up on something, I reminded myself. She had some sort of energy, it just wasn’t witchy energy.

  The question remained: if she wasn’t a witch, just what was she?

  Chapter Seven

  I slipped the last pins into the side seams of Gemma McClain’s wedding dress. After more than two hours of constant complaining and glancing remarks, it took all my resolve not to jab the pins directly through her ribcage.

  “You’re all finished with your fitting,” I told her. “You can take the dress off.”

  Gemma’s entourage was all present, just like the first time she’d come in. The three bridesmaids, Ronda the maid-of-honor, Gemma’s over-anxious mother, and Ronda’s sour-puss mother sat around, watching the operation that took way too long. And Gemma’s atrocious sniping was also present and accounted for.

  Only the promise of the massive paycheck at the end of this job kept me from putting my boot about six feet up her rear end. The bridesmaids must have realized just how close Gemma was pushing me toward a blowup of truly geological proportions, because they kept giving me apologetic smiles. Otherwise, they remained silent and inconspicuous throughout the fitting. No doubt, they wanted to be out of the line of fire when the tacks started flying.

  I busied myself at my work table, doing my best not to reveal Henner’s monstrosity which was still hidden under the corduroy. At last, Gemma came out of the fitting room, carrying her dress. Of course, she still wasn’t happy with it—this time it was too tight around her rib cage.

  She dumped it in a heap next to me. “When will it be done?”

  I smoothed out the wrinkles in the precious fabric. “I’ll stitch it up this afternoon and add the enchantments tonight. The enchantments need to steep so they have time to gather steam before the wedding, so I’d say you can come back at the end of the week.”

  “Okay,” she said tentatively and turned away. I had a feeling she wanted to say more, but she probably remembered that whole bit about what I’d done to her in the change room the last time she was here. Now we seemed to have an understanding.

  Good.

  I didn’t say anything. She left the store, taking her entourage with her and left me in blessed peace. It was already four-thirty in the afternoon, so I locked up early and went to work on the dress.

  There wasn’t that much to do except let out the seams in a few places and otherwise, clean up all the loose ends. For all her bluster, Gemma seemed generally pleased with the dress—as pleased as a harpy could be anyway. I didn’t envy her wedding party and I felt truly sorry for her fiancé, Winston. The poor guy was signing himself up for a lifetime of misery. Then again, these mundane marriages didn’t usually last anyway. What was the divorce rate now among humans? Hovering somewhere around 60%? With any luck, Mr. Gemma would run for the hills and be free to love again before long. Of course, for all I knew, maybe he was as bad as she was.

  I took the dress to the back room and hung it on the hanger, where it was protected in its plastic garment bag. I left the zipper open while I touched the Eyes For Me Oil, Binding Love Oil, and Happy Heart Oil to the underside of the dress. In general, I blended all potions with talcum powder and then dusted them on the various clothing items I sold so the oils wouldn’t leach through the fabric and destroy it. Then I performed a few spells to activate the oils and give them added strength. Of course, the potions were courtesy of Poppy because I didn’t bother with brewing the frustrating things. Whereas I could hex someone into oblivion if I wanted to, the same couldn’t be said for my potions brewing skills. They were nonexistent. But, luckily for me, Poppy was just as good (and usually better) than any witch when it came to making potions.

  I zipped the garment bag closed, stashed the dress in my office for safe-keeping, and drove home. I arrived in time to meet Poppy, who was dropping off Astrid. The two had walked over from Poppy’s house, which was just a short jaunt across the graveyard that bordered both our properties. Darla and Libby, who lived in the duplex beside me, were both outside and talking with Poppy. Darla used to haunt Poppy’s house and I sometimes wondered if she ever missed Poppy and Finn.

  I parked the black Escalade I’d recently acquired in front of the duplex and killed the engine. The Escalade had been a present of sorts from Lorcan and he’d practically had to force me to accept it because I wasn’t usually one to take pity handouts. But the crappy, rusted-out, hideously yellow 1985 Chevrolet Vega I’d been driving wasn’t exactly safe.

  Astrid brightened when she saw me. “The prodigal returns!”

  “Ha-ha… not funny,” I groused as I met all four of them at the bottom of the porch stairs. “If anyone is the prodigal returning, it’s you, young lady.”

  Poppy laughed. “Astrid isn’t a prodigal, Wanda.” She took a deep breath and her constant cheery disposition didn’t do much to lift my current mood. Gemma had a way of leaving me with a bad taste in my mouth. “Astrid’s potions work is really taking off. You should be proud of her. She’s a great student and she’s going to give me some stiff competition soon.”

  Astrid beamed first at Poppy and then at me. This was my cue to make some appropriately parental comments and so I did. I was learning. “I’m proud of you, Astrid.” I put my arm around her shoulders and hugged her as she giggled in response. I was getting almost as good at this cuddly stuff as Astrid was apparently getting at potions. I still didn’t hold a candle to Poppy, though. Only a CareBear could.

  “That’s so great to hear, Astrid!” Libby sang out in her sing-song voice.

  Instead of catching up with the times, she appeared to be leaning even deeper into her role as a 1950s housewife. She wore a floral swing dress complete with petticoats to make it flare out at her hips, making her look like a bell. Giant red bows bedecked both sides.

  Libby faced me and her smile grew. “Are you hungry, Wanda? If you are, I could make you a sandwich?”

  The question might have been considered odd if it were coming from anyone but Libby. As it was, Libby seemed to exist merely to please me, thus everything that came out of her mouth was along those lines. I frowned as I shook my head. “It’s not even dinner time yet.”

  “I know, but if you’re hungry, I could make you a sandwich?” She blinked her long lashes a few times and had the overall look of a deer in headlights—a hopeful deer in headlights.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Her face fell. “Oh.”

  I started to feel bad because Darla and Libby were always vying for my time and lately, I didn’t have enough time for myself, let alone for them. I’d been avoiding them as well as their incessant phone calls. I took a big breath. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to come over and see how you’re doing, Libby.” I looked from her to Darla. “You and Darla. How are you both?”

  “Just fine.” Libby furrowed her brow. “Did you really plan to see us?”

  “Sure. Why do you ask?” I answered, looking over at Poppy with an embarrassed expression. I wasn’t sure how or when it had happened but Poppy had sort of become my ‘being-nice-to-people coach. Whenever I was ready to lose it on someone, Poppy had a way of bringing me back down again. And at this exact moment, Poppy was watching me with a curious expression.

  Meanwhile, Libby was eyeing me with suspicion. “Because you’re always telling Darla and me to get lost whenever we come over.”

  “Telling you to get lost?” I said, waving away her words (which were true) as if she were exaggerating while Poppy looked over at me with one eyebrow drawn.

  “Just the other day you said you’d rather trip and fall into that old well behind our house than come over for dinner,” Libby continued as I wished she would trip and fall into the old well at that exact moment just so I could shut her up.

  “Wanda!” Poppy said in surprise as Astrid laughed and I frowned.

  “Well, I’ve just been… really busy lately and I’ve had a lot on my mind,” I started and then began to feel even worse. Damn, this guilt stuff was difficult to deal with. Sometimes I preferred being Wanda 1.0 who didn’t bother with anyone’s feelings but her own. Wanda 2.0 was taking some getting used to.

  I sighed as I looked from Libby to Darla and then to Poppy as I figured I wouldn’t be getting out of this easily. “Do you want to come over and make dinner?”

  “Oh, I would just love to!” Libby answered, clapping her hands together as her smile threatened to rip her face in half.

  “Poppy?” I started but she immediately shook her head.

  “I’ve got to get back to Finn and make sure homework is done before I start dinner. Thanks though!”

  Poppy smiled at all of us as she turned around and started back across the graveyard, to her house.

  “Be careful to avoid that old well!” Darla called out after her as she then turned to face me and gave me a wink.

  “Not funny,” I grumbled as I led the way into the house with Libby, Astrid and Darla in tow. It was true—I hadn’t been bothered with them lately. I was just… too overwhelmed with life. And truly, it was so much nicer now that Libby and Darla weren’t constantly in my space. Not that they were far away, by any stretch, since they were living in the other side of the duplex, but they had strict instructions not to come calling unless they phoned me first. And, yes, they called every morning and evening. They were stage 5 clingers and then some.

  “I ain’t seen Hellcat in a few days, dollface. Where you suppose he’s at?” Darla asked.

  “Probably ratting me out to Mother about what a failure I am and how I can’t do anything right. You know, the usual.”

  Libby gasped. “Don’t familiars have some kind of code of conduct that says they have to work with the witch they serve?”

  I raised my eyebrows at her. “Serve? I’m pretty sure that word doesn’t figure anywhere in Hellcat’s vocabulary.”

  “I kind of wish I’d stayed around the coven long enough to get my own familiar,” Astrid said and looked out the living room window wistfully. Witches didn’t receive their familiars until they celebrated their twentieth birthdays.

  “Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise,” Libby offered. “You could have found yourself stuck with a cockroach or a skunk or something equally atrocious for the rest of your life.”

  Astrid snorted and we all laughed at the horrible sound.

  I went to bed early that night and, for the first time since I’d become a Blood Witch, I drifted off without thinking about vampires.

  ***

  The next morning, I drove to my store and parked out front. Then jumping down from the Escalade, I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat, strode up to the door, and put the key in the lock. Even before I turned the knob, though, I knew something was wrong. I could feel it.

  I opened the door and took one step into the store when I saw it—more scratch marks all across the hardwood and this time, the marks were larger. Not only that but one of the jars of talcum powder I used to tone down Poppy’s potions had spilled all over the floor. Tiny footprints tracked through the white powder, going from the front door all the way back to the changing rooms.

  I stepped further inside as my heart started pounding. Locking the door behind me so no one could enter, I took a good look around. My stomach tightened when I glanced down at the mess. Who was doing this? And why? And how were they getting in?

  The kicker of the whole situation was that I’d done everything I could think to do to figure out who was behind these break-ins—I’d tried scrying, I’d tried a time-rewinding spell in order to see who’d been here when I hadn’t, I’d tried everything I could think of, and nothing. Even Poppy had contributed a few potions she’d thought might help but nothing would reveal the person or the creature responsible.

  This time, I couldn’t deny there was a message in the scratches on the floor. The curlicues by the fitting rooms were letters of some kind, but they were still impossible to read, let alone understand. Whatever words they were trying to form were lost on me. I still wasn’t even sure if they were words.

  I raced to my office, suddenly worried that whoever had done this had stolen or otherwise tampered with Gemma’s dress. But, no, the dress hung on the hook right where I’d left it. The zipper was still closed and none of the incriminating white powder was in the office. The vandalism had been reserved for the store front itself.

  Wanting to make sure the dress was unscathed, I unzipped the garment bag. I let out a shaky breath when I saw the dress undamaged. As far as I could tell, it hadn’t even been touched. I zipped the bag closed again and shut my office door before I dared to face the music in the front of the store.

  First, I searched the whole back room, but nothing had been damaged there, either. And like the first time, the vandal hadn’t stolen anything.

  This whole situation was perplexing, to say the least.

  Chapter Eight

  I returned to the main store area to deal with the aftermath of the broken jar of talcum powder, only to find Hellcat reclined across my work table. He extended his hind leg at a rakish angle while he licked his inner thigh.

  “Do that on your own time!” I said and glared at him, all the while wondering how he’d gotten here. Actually, he’d probably been asleep in the back seat of the Escalade before I took Astrid to school this morning. He liked to nap there. “No one wants to watch you titillate yourself!”