Blood Witches could call down storms that flattened villages. It was the sort of thing that rightfully made the mundanes start whittling their torches and sharpening their pitchforks. Blood Witches were powerful… Wanda had blighted the entire duplex with talking mold when she’d been pissed at her cat, for feck’s sake.

  Then it struck me—perhaps she was angry enough with me after my drunken antics that she’d caused this storm herself? Not intentionally, certainly. Wanda’s magic was unpredictable and surgical precision was hardly her forte, but if she were angry enough…

  Yet, even this seemed to be too much for Wanda. And though she was certainly angry with me (angry enough that she wouldn’t answer nor return my calls), I couldn’t imagine I’d upset her enough for… this. Which meant I’d pissed off something bigger and more powerful than a Blood Bitch.

  Perhaps something… divine?

  Divine and spiteful. If such were the case, I stood by what I’d said—that the goddess was a… a bitch.

  At my rather unfriendly thought, the window at the back of the office suddenly blew inward, raining glass and a torrent of water into the hallway. Jennifer screamed and luckily Harvey was still under the effects of the general anesthesia because he slept through the whole thing. Meanwhile, hailstones the size of golf balls cleared the open frame and bounced a few times upon the tile before skittering to a stop. White light flashed across my vision, momentarily blinding me, and a peal of thunder shook the building down to its foundation. The lights flickered once and then died.

  Jennifer screamed again.

  Hairs at the back of my neck stood on end as the concentrated fury of the storm gathered above me. The hail hammered the roof as if hell-bent upon getting inside, and I distantly heard the lobby window burst inward. Mrs. Franklin and her daughter let out identical shrieks from the waiting room, and I prayed on reflex that neither had been hit with hail or flying glass.

  The slap of rain on the tile paused for just a moment, as though a great beast were drawing in its breath.

  The storm is only after you.

  The voice came to me in a burst of clarity, as though someone were whispering into my ear. I did not recognize the voice, but, the message was clear—this was all my fault. Perhaps it was owing to my drunken words of stupidity or the fact that I’d left the Yule log in the snow, but something was supremely upset with me.

  And that meant I had a choice. Be selfish, and the building would eventually come down upon all our heads. Or I could leave and take the brunt of the storm upon myself because I was its only target.

  Why I was suddenly convinced such was the case, I couldn’t say for sure. Maybe because the voice had sounded out of nowhere and, thus, it seemed important to take heed of the message? Perhaps I was more superstitious than I cared to admit.

  Whatever the reason, I stood and stalked toward the glass-strewn back hallway. A hailstone flew through the open window and struck me full in the face. It hit at just the right angle, and my nose snapped to the side and began pouring blood as a sharp pain reverberated through my head.

  Jennifer was at my elbow a few seconds later, trying to haul me back.

  “Oh my God! You’re hurt, Lorcan! Sit down and let me—”

  “I have to go,” I said thickly. “Call the department of power and see if you can get the lights turned back on and I’ll let RJ know about the windows.”

  Jennifer’s brows scrunched together over those big, blue eyes. She appeared quite terrified, and far too innocent to be mixed up with magic and monsters. I’d have to talk to friends in the business and see if any of them could use a hygienist.

  Then I wrenched my arm free of her grip and banged out the back door, into the raging storm. Just what I was confronting, I wasn’t sure, but I was well on my way.

  ***

  Every few minutes a bolt of lightning would strike near me, heedless of the conventional wisdom that said it should strike the tallest objects in proximity. I was able to sense the strike coming a few seconds before it actually happened and juked out of the way. I always ended up flat on my arse, though, knocked off my feet by the thunder that came right on the heels of the strike. Hailstones collided with every available inch of me. I was soaked to the skin, slicked with mud and blood from my broken nose (which had healed, owing to my vampire abilities), and more bruised than a bag of convenience store apples.

  The sky thundered again, and that was when I had a good idea of who might be behind this angry display.

  The Goddess.

  Perhaps she was upset that I’d thought her a… a bitch?

  But, really, this seemed a bit much, didn’t it? She’d already flooded my home, broken my nose, destroyed my dental practice and scared the bejeezus out of me. What more was she going to do? Actually strike me down? Even if she tried, lightning wouldn’t kill me. Yes, it’d hurt like hell, but vampires had survived lightning before.

  Stupid Goddess. Stupid Yule log. Honestly, who got this bent out of shape over kindling?

  The next bolt of lightning struck near my foot, so close I could almost taste the energy of it wash across my tongue. It was ozone and light, razing every cell with agonizing sensation. The feeling was gone within seconds, giving me a sampling of what the real thing might be feel like. And that was something I wanted no part of!

  On an ordinary day, it would not have taken long to reach downtown, even at human speed. But by the time I staggered down Main Street, I felt like I’d run a ten-mile gauntlet.

  Wanda leased a two-story, gothic style building from me, centered on Main Street, and such was the target of my visit.

  Yesterday the windows had been almost opaque with frost, concealing the strobing neon open sign and the mannequins on a raised dais. The rainstorm had washed away the glaze of ice, so I could peer inside. And there I saw Wanda consulting with a customer, which left me in a quandary. Did I barge in, potentially upsetting the customer and losing Wanda business? Or did I wait out here to become vampire kindling?

  The next crack of thunder made the decision for me. Wanda was the only person who would know how to stop that fecking goddess from flicking fire at me.

  The bell above Wanda’s door chimed as I pushed it open, the sound raking cheerfully across my stretched nerves. The woman, a mundane I vaguely recognized from Hazel’s convenience store, glanced up from the rack of clothing she was perusing. Her eyes widened when she drank my sodden, sorry self in, not to mention the blood covering most of my person.

  One hand flew to her mouth, and she muttered a breathless, “Oh my!”

  But, my attention was centered on Wanda. The muscles in her neck and back bunched when she sensed me, but she didn’t turn around. If she gripped the pen in her hand any tighter, it’d squeal ‘uncle’. She was still angry with me. Seething, as far as I could tell.

  Perfect. Just perfect.

  “Go away, Lorcan.”

  “I would, sweetling, but I have a… quite sizable problem. I need your help.”

  Wanda rounded on me, fire blazing in her eyes. Her lips were drawn away from her dazzlingly white teeth in a snarl, and she looked like she might spit at me in her fury. And I imagined she had turned up the power of her necklace because I suddenly felt like I wanted to retch, right there.

  “Help you? Why on earth would I…”

  Her voice trailed off, and the anger leached from her expression when she got a good look at me and all the blood still covering my face and shirt. There was also a bit on my pants. Her brows knitted over those incredible eyes, and she actually appeared... concerned. She glanced sideways at the mundane woman and then back at me and, after a second or two, she heaved a sigh and turned to her customer with a patently false smile.

  “I’m sorry, Stacey, but I need to talk to Lorcan. Can we reschedule your fitting?”

  Stacey hadn’t pulled her eyes away from me, apparently too transfixed to look away, and simply nodded as if she were still shocked by the sight of me.

  “Yes… yes, I can come back,” she said as soon as she found herself. “Are you okay?” she asked me, concern in her eyes.

  “I’ve been better,” I answered honestly.

  Chapter Eight

  “Sit,” Wanda said, jabbing a finger at a bench by the door. “And tell me what in the spell happened to you.”

  I didn’t argue, which really underlined how badly off I was. We lived to torment each other, good-naturedly or otherwise. I wanted to conjure a witty retort, but all I managed was a rather pathetic groan as I sank onto the bench. And then the repulsion charm hit me again and I had to beg Wanda to turn it down, which she did, thankfully.

  Wanda cast one worried look in my direction as I sunk down her wall, leaving a bloody smear in my wake. I expected a lecture for that, but she just shook her head and took a seat beside me, clasping my face so she could get a good look at my injuries which were already healed, but I didn’t bother telling her as much. I’d take any semblance of concern I could get.

  She raised a perfectly plucked brow and glared at me, unamused. “Did Roy finally give you that beating you deserved for being such an insufferable ass?”

  I shook my head. “I’d prefer it if he had,” I managed, groaning when she probed along my jaw. “At least then I would have had a chance to hit back.”

  She frowned and pulled away as she inspected me. “What happened, Lorcan? You look like you were in a cage match with a demon and lost.”

  I jabbed a finger toward her ceiling, and said sourly, “Blame her.”

  Understanding lit in Wanda’s eyes, and she pressed her lips together firmly. I wasn’t certain if she wanted to shout at me or laugh in my face. Either way, she withdrew her hands from my face, and cradled her head in them, muttering to herself.

  “What do I do?” I asked.

  She looked up at me then. “Lorcan, you are an idiot.”

  “Yes, well, while that might be true, it still doesn’t help me.”

  “You didn’t put the Yule log back into the fireplace, did you?”

  A memory of me chucking the blasted thing into the snow revisited me like a bad case of diarrhea. “Not exactly.”

  “Well, what did you do with it?” Her expression said she was afraid for my answer.

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Because it matters.” She narrowed her eyes on me. “What did you do with it?”

  “Chucked it into the snow.”

  She inhaled deeply and then shook her head.

  “You are a bigger idiot than I thought.”

  “Haven’t we been over that already?” I demanded, frowning.

  “I told you of the log’s importance.”

  “So I chucked it outside—so what?”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, a bolt of lightning struck the sky and thunder wasn’t far behind.

  “Be careful what you say.”

  I nodded. “Apparently.”

  Thunder continued to rumble quite ominously, and Wanda appeared as though she wanted to slug me. She didn’t though, so there was that. I glanced out the window to the storm raging outside. The hail had stopped, but the rain was still coming down in sheets.

  “So… can we fix this?” I asked, afraid for her response.

  She just looked at me for a few seconds before she sighed. “We’re going to go through with the ceremony again… only right this time.”

  I eyed the street doubtfully. Could it really be so easy? “What if it doesn’t work?”

  She smiled tightly. “Then you are going to have a very damp week, Rowe.”

  “Not funny.”

  “On your feet, you undead penis-head. We have a ritual to do.”

  ***

  I’d neglected to drive my Porsche in the storm. No doubt the ill-tempered goddess would see to it that a cedar fell across the top, wrecking the car and pulverizing the vampire inside. Thus, I’d left my baby safe under the carport at the office, where hopefully it would remain. Although, this goddess seemed to have a sick sense of humor, so I could just imagine a freak flood taking the beautiful vehicle out.

  Wanda drove us in the Escalade and along the way, RJ called to let me know that though he searched the house, he couldn’t find evidence of any busted pipes, though he was nearly finished emptying the water from the basement. Apparently, I was to leave the pool pumps going until all the water emptied out—something which he imagined would take another hour or two at most.

  “It wasn’t a broken pipe that flooded your basement,” Wanda supplied once I hung up the call.

  “It was the goddess?”

  She just nodded.

  A few minutes later, Wanda and I arrived at my house. The house, itself, was still standing, which I took as a good sign. Maybe the goddess wasn’t heartless enough to harm my newly acquired friend, the beagle. I imagined such was the only reason she’d chosen to spare the place.

  After I retrieved the Yule log from its icy bed and Wanda gave me a withering and exasperated expression, we hurried up the front porch steps and out of the rain as I unlocked the door and Disaster greeted us. His wildly waving tail shook half his body, and he danced around with excited yips, throwing his paws against my shins.

  “Who is this?” Wanda asked.

  “Oh, that’s Disaster.”

  “Disaster?”

  I nodded. “Named in honor of the party last night.”

  “That’s a horrible name, especially for a guardian spirit,” Wanda said, blinking at the beagle with a surprised smile.

  “A guardian spirit?” I frowned at her. “I don’t know about that—all he does is sleep.”

  Wanda made an impatient noise and gestured emphatically at the dog. “Well, regardless of how good he is at his job, he’s still a guardian spirit.”

  “And what, exactly, does a guardian spirit do aside from the obvious?”

  She shrugged. “Well, they guard certain homes and their owners.”

  “He’s a beagle,” I pointed out with a frown. “How much of a guardian can he really be?”

  Disaster grumbled at me then, as if to say he didn’t appreciate my words.

  “Don’t let his looks fool you. This is simply the shape he chose to appear in. When the need arises, he’ll get a lot bigger and… intimidating.”

  “If the need arises?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, like say, if a vampire tries to attack you.”

  “Well, where in the world did he come from and how did he find me?”

  “He didn’t find you. He was sent to you.”

  “And who would have sent him to me?”

  “Guardian spirits only come from one source…” she started and then smirked at me knowingly.

  “The Goddess?” I asked, surprised. Wanda nodded as I shook my head. “Why would the Goddess send me a… gift and then try to destroy me moments later?”

  “Because she probably respected what you were trying to do with me with this blood bond business… until you pissed her off when she gave you a gift, and you basically threw it back in her face.”

  “She never gave me a gift.”

  “She gave it to you through me, dummy.”

  “You mean the log?”

  She nodded. “I mean the log.”

  “Well, what kind of silly gift is a log, anyway?”

  “An important one.”

  “Oh,” I said, and felt a little sick.

  Disaster hadn’t seemed all that special when he’d been huddling under my porch. When I glanced down at him now, he wagged his tail hopefully, bright pink tongue lolling from his mouth. He still didn’t appear very special.

  “Yes, oh,” Wanda said, clearly exasperated with her imbecilic not-boyfriend.

  “Can he... talk?”

  Wanda shrugged. “Maybe, when he’s old enough.”

  “He’s not old enough now?”

  “Lorcan, he’s just a baby. I bet he was created a few weeks ago.”

  “Well, I’ll be.”

  “You’re lucky. Guardian spirits are all good sorts. Unlike familiars.” A thought seemed to occur to her, and she grinned. “Maybe you can set him on Hellcat next time he annoys me.”

  Disaster’s tail wagged harder, and Wanda laughed, bending down to scratch him behind his ears. The beagle’s leg thumped against the hardwood in response.

  “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” she crooned. “Though you have a terrible name.”

  “I don’t know,” I answered on a shrug. “I quite like it.”

  “It’s disrespectful.”

  “Well, what should I call him… Fido? That title seems even more disrespectful.”

  “No, he needs a name that pays homage to the importance of his role and his noble origins.”

  “Will Duane do?”

  “No!” She looked down at the dog formerly known as Disaster. “What a good guardian spirit, you are. Though you have quite the job ahead of you because Lorcan’s not very bright.”

  “I object!”

  “And a bit of an ass.”

  “Okay, you may have a point there.”

  Wanda straightened and pointed toward the den. “Go take a shower while I get the fire going.”

  “A shower?”

  She nodded. “You’re covered in blood.”

  “So what?” I started and then shook my head, wanting her to understand the longer this took, the more likely I would be fried by a lightning bolt. “As far as I’m concerned, we need to get on with this whole thing so we can un-piss-off the goddess ASAP.”

  “That’s not how it works. You can’t perform a ritual when you’re filthy. You have to come to the goddess in reverence and respect.”

  “Blimey,” I muttered as I started for the hallway leading to my bedroom and the en-suite. I wanted to invite Wanda along (in jest, of course) but imagined now probably wasn’t the time for poorly timed jokes.

  Ten minutes later and freshly bathed and dressed, I walked into the drawing room where I found Wanda sitting before the fire with the guardian spirit on her lap. When she saw me, she said nothing but stood up and the dog circled on his rug before returning to his repose.