I screwed a professional smile into place, though it didn’t reach my eyes. The towheaded boy Zane had been attempting to wrangle broke free of the bony claw on his shoulder, sacrificing a few scraps of his Magic School Bus T-shirt to his mother’s rather sharp, dark nails. He dove toward the clothing rack, this time succeeding in disappearing completely into a warm and wooly hiding spot.

  “Zane!” Louisa scolded, tone blistering enough to peel the varnish off my hardwood floors. “Get out of there this instant! You know better than to behave like that in public!”

  Zane didn’t answer, but if I strained, I thought I could hear a disdainful snicker build in the back of the little boy’s throat. Zane wasn’t a stranger to me—the seven-year-old had been one of four children who had been kidnapped by an evil queen of the Winter Fae court. Poppy’s son, Finn, had also been among their number. Luckily, we’d been able to rescue all four children and the evil fae were still locked in a faerie ring in the middle of a dense forest. To see the panic and fear Poppy had gone through made me grateful I’d never had children.

  As it now stood, I was one hundred and forty. Middle-aged, by mortal standards. I could easily live to be three or four hundred, way past child-bearing years. At that point, my womb would close, but my powers would grow exponentially. With increased power, though, comes sacrifice—no more potential to create life. No children.

  And that subject was yet another about which Mother was peeved with me. It wasn’t unheard of for a witch my age to be childless. Infertility affected every species, but until now, I was the first who’d never even tried to become pregnant.

  The dreadful irony of it all was that I’d found life so intoxicating, I’d never stopped to think, to settle, to enjoy the fruits of all my journeying... until it all came to an abrupt and violent end—the point at which I’d become a Blood Witch. Now, even if I wanted a child, I wasn’t allowed to breed—according to the coven, anyway. I was an abomination, after all.

  As for myself, I wasn’t even sure I could still have children. Not that I wanted to find out…

  I tried to bat the thought away with a metaphorical backhand that should have sent it wheeling into next Tuesday. Maybe I was losing my touch, because the thought only budged an inch. It wasn’t really kids I wanted, though, and I knew it. No, I wanted my future back. I wanted the prospect of a lover, and a life with a family. My family, however catty they may have been, had abandoned me, and the only person I had left to turn to was the undead arse who’d gotten me into this mess in the first place. And Lorcan had been only too happy to offer his services as my... ahem... stud, if I asked.

  And, no, I hadn’t asked and nor would I.

  “It’s fine, Mrs. Rutledge,” I said, forcing a jovial note into my voice. I wasn’t sure the attempted joviality came out right, and the subtle flinching motion Louisa made convinced me I’d flubbed it even worse than I’d feared.

  Mother had tried to impress social graces on all her girls, but patience, and empathy hadn’t been values I’d esteemed highly. Instead, I liked hard work, timeliness, and common courtesy, all of which had been thoroughly ground into dirt by Louisa’s lateness. With or without her excuses.

  “Again, I’m sorry,” she murmured, and this time there was actually a hitch in her voice.

  “It’s fine, Mrs. Rutledge, really,” I said. “Why don’t we get you into my back room for some measurements? Do you think your oldest could watch over the others while we discuss your clothing options?”

  Louisa nodded and tapped the preteen on the shoulder. “Alissa, make sure your brothers and sisters behave themselves.”

  Alissa’s dead-eyed stare seemed to bore through her mother, out the window, and into the street, as if she longed to be anywhere else. Eventually, she just rolled one shoulder and acknowledged her mother with a sigh.

  With the thoroughly apathetic Alissa installed as shepherd over the other wolves, Louisa followed me through the maze of clothing racks to my back room, waiting until the door clicked behind us before she started undressing.

  She began stripping off her sweatshirt and faded black stretch pants with the air of someone facing the gallows. I didn’t quite understand her reluctance. She’d sounded enthusiastic enough over the phone. Was she experiencing buyer’s remorse in advance?

  Louisa paused when she was down to a black camisole and a pair of matching black shaping shorts. She twisted the hem of the top between her fingers before raising uncertain eyes to meet mine.

  “Do I... do I have to take it all off?”

  Ah, so that was it. She was self-conscious.

  I smiled gently, and this time I didn’t have to fake it. “No, Mrs. Rutledge, you don’t have to remove all your clothing.”

  “Oh, it’s Miss Hatfield, actually,” she whispered the last bit, as though the change in her name was a shameful secret.

  My stomach swooped. Goddess, had I been putting the wrong name in the schedule for days now? Rutledge didn’t sound a thing like Hatfield, and I couldn’t even claim age as an excuse. The same transfusion of vampire blood that fouled up my powers also gave me keener senses and made me sharper in general. I twisted the measuring tape between my manicured fingers and forced another smile.

  “Did I get your name wrong? I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I used to be Mrs. Rutledge,” she said and shook her head. “That… topic is what this visit is about.”

  “Okay?”

  “My mother and father gave me an... ultimatum of sorts. I’ve got ten thousand dollars and six months.”

  Good Lord, ten thousand dollars?!

  “Ten thousand dollars and six months for what?” I repeated, trying to keep my eyes from going too wide.

  Louisa’s cheeks colored, and when she risked a glance up at me, her eyes were shiny with tears. “I need to spend money on a… a new wardrobe, cosmetics, surgery. Pretty much anything that will help to... you know... Catch one.”

  “A man?” I guessed. My second guess would have been a fish.

  “Yes,” Louisa admitted as she dropped her head again.

  Oh for Hecate’s sake! I hated this patriarchal bullshit.

  “I don’t believe you should change a thing about yourself to get a man!” I said, seething even though I was doing my best to keep my temper in check. One thing about witches though, we’re a temperamental bunch.

  Louisa’s breathing hitched, hands flying to cup her face, and she finally broke into an earnest, if not muffled, sob, leaving me completely baffled. Then she continued to lose control of herself to heaves and sighs and wailing sounds.

  For Hecuba’s sake…

  “I’m so sorry, Ms. Depraysie… I didn’t mean to be late, and I didn’t mean to offend you,” she managed between sobs “I should just… I should leave. I don’t even know what I want or where to start.” She threw her hands up. “I’ve always had terrible fashion sense. This was a mistake. I… I should leave.”

  I took a deep breath, and focused on the fact that I didn’t want Louisa, or her ten thousand dollars, to just walk out of the shop. I mean, I could help her, certainly, and she could definitely help me.

  I seized Louisa by the shoulders and guided her to my office chair before she could duck out the door wearing nothing but her camisole and shapewear.

  Louisa’s strength took me off-guard. She was taller than me, probably around five-nine or so, with wide, flared hips, and an ample bustline. She had the soft roundness that came from birthing many children. I’d seen it often in the figures of women in the coven. I’d even envied that feminine shape more times than I could remember. That round softness was something I’d never have, even if by some miracle I managed to solve this Blood Witch debacle.

  Louisa twisted out of my grip like my hands had been coated in bacon grease and made another bid for the door again, this time with a lupine whine. My heart twisted. I hated to add to her distress, but I had to calm her down before she did something drastic. Upset werewolves could be… drastic.

  So, summoning up a spark of magic, I hissed a word and beckoned my rolling chair forward, and it obediently whirred into motion. It sped toward the distressed werewolf soccer mom like an office supply linebacker with a savior complex, taking her out at the knees, and then enfolding the shocked woman in its arms. She raised her face toward me, bewildered, a whine still easing through her lips, though thankfully she’d stopped crying. One thing I really couldn’t deal with was tears. They were just so… emotional.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Yes, as entertaining as that whole spectacle was, what are you doing. Wandellmelia?” Hellcat drawled. He was perched in the shelves above us, curled between two bolts of fabric, so only the evil gleam of his eyes showed.

  I stooped and reached into my purse. Opening my wallet, I pulled out a pair of fifties, then paused to reconsider the amount, eventually peeling off two more. Two hundred ought to cover it.

  “I’m going to take care of something,” I answered, looking from Hellcat to Louisa as I started for the door. “And when I return, you and I are going to discuss your clothing options.”

  “We are?” Louisa asked.

  I nodded quickly. “We are. Now sit. Stay.”

  I kept the ‘good dog’ to myself.

  Chapter Three

  I don’t know what deity I managed to piss off, or what karmic scales were badly skewed, but in the last six months, my luck had been dismal. Anything that could go wrong did, and then some.

  I’d been turned into this thing and forced to move from the only home I’d ever known. My house and shop were owned by the vampire penis who’d gotten me into this mess in the first place. Both properties he'd purchased in an effort to try to convince me to turn into one of the reeking undead. Worse? He was obsessive and bordering on dangerous, owing to his kiss not having been returned to him. We had an arrangement whereby we would go on dates in order to keep his bloodlust in check. Because of the fact that he was afraid of giving into said bloodlust, he no longer kept his home in the duplex beside mine. Instead, he’d allowed Fifi, a succubus who worked at the local bar, to take residence there and he’d move to one of his properties in town.

  As if that weren’t enough to deal with, my cousin had broken into my house, placed a hex on it which disallowed my magic, then he’d destroyed every one of my worldly possessions when he’d hexed the moving van, totaling the vehicle and nearly killing the driver. All in an effort to demoralize me and drive me into his arms.

  It was difficult to believe Astrid and Maverick came from the same mother. Astrid, while stubborn and prone to mischief, was a sweet and caring person. Maverick was crazy, proof being in his long ago crush on me that had turned to hateful obsession. When I’d turned down his proposal, he’d resorted to violence.

  But the one thing he couldn’t have predicted, that none of us could have foreseen, was the gypsy. Poppy. When I’d first moved here, I believed her presence in Haven Hollow would be my ruin. And now... now I wasn’t sure what to make of her.

  There was envy there, of course. She’d put down roots in the Hollow a month or so before I had, and she’d earned the trust of the people here. More than that, she seemed to take to sales with effortless grace, where I had to work not to snarl at every halfwit who asked me a stupid question.

  I mean, honestly, the tag says it’s a lusty lace nightie. Do the math!

  But it wasn’t just envy I felt towards Poppy and her store. There was envy of a very different sort lying just beneath my professional anxiety. She had... family. A good one. True, she might not have a husband, but she had a decent kid, and not one, but two men jockeying to fill in as father figure and husband. And she had a handful of friends. I didn’t have any friends, any kids, and no would-be husbands. All I had was a stalker.

  Poppy was luckier than most.

  My eyes pricked with angry tears as I felt sorry for myself. Goddess, but I wanted someone to lean on that wasn’t an undead penis.

  You are going to make it on your own, Wanda, I told myself as I shoved my chin into the air. You’ll make it without anyone’s help.

  “You look like you’re about to cry,” Alissa said, injecting a note of scorn into her voice.

  I was really starting to dislike Louisa’s little brood, this one the most. The oldest werewolf child was walking in step with me, leading her siblings in a more or less straight line toward the shop across the road. Either they feared their sister’s wrath or they’d been swayed by my bribe, because they put up no resistance as we strode forward.

  “Of course I’m not about to cry,” I snapped, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’ve just… I’ve got something in my eye.”

  “Yeah… they’re called tears.”

  Deciding to ignore the little twerp for the time-being, I focused on the February air which cut like a knife. I hadn’t bothered with a jacket, prioritizing Louisa’s sanity over my comfort. After Louisa’s breakdown in my back room, I figured she needed some breathing room, and the more distance I could put between these little gremlins and their distraught mother, the better.

  Alissa’s thin lips quirked into a smirk, and she gave a derisive little snort. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  My palms went abruptly clammy as I talked myself down from turning Alissa’s blonde locks into snakes. Sweat dewed on my forehead, and ran in a cold line down my spine. I had to keep control of myself. I was a Blood Witch and that made my powers unruly. What was once stable magic was now dark and I had predilections toward forbidden magic. I could call the dead from their graves, manifest animals from thin air, perform blood magic, the list went on. Not only could I do it, sometimes I wanted to do it.

  I took a step away from Alissa, clasping my hands tightly behind my back, letting the girl walk into Poppy’s shop ahead of me. It was nearing closing time, so what I was about to ask was going to be a hard sell, but I was hoping the gypsy’s soft heart, and the two hundred bucks in my pocket, would be enough to sway her.

  As soon as we walked into the store, numerous scents greeted us in an aromatic wave. Bergamot, patchouli, cardamom, cinnamon, rose, apple blossom, bitter orange, vanilla, pepperwort, and vetiver, and more I couldn’t place.

  Poppy appeared in the doorway, shadowed by her son. The kid was ten or sixteen, and tall with braces. Gawky and thin, he’d caught the first growth spurt boys get before they fill out. He looked a lot like his mother: fair-haired, blue-eyed, fresh-faced, and happy. The two of them were too wholesome for words—like one of those after school specials that make you want to vomit.

  Ugh. How tiresome.

  Poppy quirked one golden brow at me.

  “Wanda, nice to see you!” Then she noticed the slew of children behind me. “Where did all these children come from?”

  “It’s not as though I stole them,” I grumbled. Please. If Louise Rutledge weren’t in such dire need of a break, you couldn’t pay me to take Alissa and her bratty cohorts for even the time it took to cross the street. I reached inside my purse and pulled out the fistful of bills so Ulysses S. Grant’s stern face was visible by the light slanting from the doorway. Poppy just stared at the bills for a second, then glanced up at me, face soft and faintly bewildered.

  “What’s that?”

  “Two hundred dollars.”

  “What for?”

  “The children’s mother, Louisa, is a mess and happens to be in my back room for a fitting. I’m not going to be able to get a damn thing done with these kids constantly whining and shedding their grime all over my shop, so I wanted to ask you if you’d take them somewhere.”

  “Take them somewhere?”

  I nodded. “Yeah… to Sweeter Haunts, the Creamery, the Craft Store… prison, wherever.”

  “Prison?”

  I frowned. “Point is, Louisa and I need some peace for the next hour or so.”

  “So, you’re asking me to babysit?”

  I nodded. Failing that, I was going to call in the Pied Piper. “Please. Is two hundred fair? I don’t know what the going rate is…”

  Poppy stared at me for a long moment, her brows pulling together. She tilted her head after a moment, that confused expression still in place.

  “I mean,” she started shaking her head, but it didn’t appear to be a refusal. I think she was more baffled than anything else.

  “Yes or no? If you won’t do it, I’ll go find someone who will.” I took a deep breath as I remembered one person in particular who might fit the bill. “There was a man hanging around the end of the street who looked like he could use the money.” I cocked my head to the side as I further considered it.

  Poppy stepped forward and gingerly tugged one of the fifty-dollar bills from my grasp. She offered me a gentle smile.

  “Of course I’ll help, but two hundred is excessive,” she said, by way of explanation. “I’ll take them for ice cream and candy. Give me a call when you’re finished, okay?”

  I eyed her earnest expression with the utmost cynicism. On the rare occasion Astrid babysat, she charged upwards of forty dollars per child. I was trailing six of the little devils. I wouldn’t stand for it if something went amiss and the gypsy came whining to me later, claiming I hadn’t compensated her fairly.

  I shoved the rest of the bills at her, shaking them for emphasis. “There are six of them, in case you didn’t notice,” I said tartly. “And I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say they’re quite… beastly. Take the rest, Poppy, I’m sure you’ll deserve it.”

  Poppy’s lips curled upward again, forming a tiny smile. Fine smile lines fanned out around her clear blue eyes, which sparkled with mirth at something she clearly found funny.

  “Is that a yes?” I demanded. “Will you watch the spawns of Satan or am I wasting my time?”

  “Yes,” Poppy answered. “But, keep the rest of your money.”

  “Fine, but don’t call me stingy.”

  She frowned at me. “You know, Wanda, some day we might actually be friends.”