“You think I want to admit that future? A life without her? Halfway on my shoulders, and maybe someday, a daughter I don’t have yet? Do you know how heavy that is?”

  His gaze was thoughtful. “I’m sorry, Carlie. I didn’t think about you being tired.”

  “I’m not tired, I’m worried. Every time something bad comes out of the ground, we are the last line of defense. If we don’t fight back, then Halfway bleeds. I can’t let that happen.” I blew out a breath, letting the sensation slow my heartbeat. “You can’t, either. Your niece will grow up here, Alex. It’s her home.”

  “It’s my home, too. And Anna’s.”

  “Yes, but I’m thinking fifty years in the future. A hundred years. Maybe more. Evil never rests, and I swore to protect Halfway for as long as I live. And beyond. That starts now, Alex. I’m sorry if I sound cruel. I don’t mean to be,” I told him.

  He was quiet for a long time, then he turned and stared down at me, working himself up to something. “I don’t like being alone all the time, but I don’t like people. I don’t fit in.”

  “You fit with us,” I said.

  “Not many, but. . .okay. A few. I like being quiet, but I don’t like being known as quiet. I think I’m tired of being in the shadows of everything. Anna was always—people just look at her when she comes in a room, you know?”

  “Yeah,” I groused.

  “I’m sorry I said that stuff. Friends?” he asked.

  “We were never arguing. That’s just friends talking. Promise.” I nodded with emphasis to make sure he understood.

  “Good. Okay, what am I looking for? Any ideas?”

  “You know the woods better than I do, but I’d have to say any giant, hooning mushroom guy with a gross, pustule covered head would probably be a good start,” I said.

  “Hooning?”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s their preferred noise, and they seem to yell it at odd intervals. I’m not sure they can speak at all, except to hoon.” I fought a giggle. It was all a bit ridiculous to think that something evil might have chosen the term hoon as a battle cry.

  Alex saw my grin, smiled, and took a sniff of the air. “West, I think. I’ll take a look and get back to you. Might be tomorrow, I’ll go the long way around towards Inlet and see if anything is wrong.”

  “Thanks, Alex. Let’s go to The Pines and eat some pizza this week, okay? And if you don’t find anything I can use, don’t worry. Just meet me for pizza next week, regardless. My treat.”

  “Sounds good. Okay, I’m off.” He stepped away, turned down the street, and was gone. I knew he would shift into a panther somewhere in the woods, then cover more territory than I could in a week.

  I know cats can be judgy, but in this case, knowing a big one was going to save me a lot of steps. I would need my energy, given how interesting my life can be. There’s an old curse that says, “May you live in interesting times.” That sums up my life. It’s interesting, and sometimes in a terrible way.

  I spoke to the sky and whoever was listening, my voice low but certain. “Whatever comes next, waffles can’t hurt.”

  I like being decisive. It keeps me at full strength, and sometimes, it’s delicious.

  Chapter Fourteen: Wrong Diagnosis

  When I opened the door, I knew something was wrong because Wulfric looked panicked.

  He never panics.

  “What is it?” I asked, moving forward with my hands raised and ready for all sorts of terrible magical battle. “Show yourself, fiend!” I shouted, sliding onto the kitchen floor like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, my charms glowing and a spell on my tongue.

  “Fiend?” Wulfric asked, a half-smile pulling at his lips.

  “Well—yeah. There’s no fiend? No marauding demon? What is it then?”

  “Amelia has a. . . I think it’s a rash. I’m not sure. When I try to look, she says it tickles and won’t let me investigate. I gave her some allergy medicine and she’s sleeping, but I’m worried,” he said.

  “Oh. Sorry,” I said, lowering my hands to a less lethal position. “Kinda thought I was stepping into a war zone.”

  “And you would be right,” he said with a wave. There were toys scattered across the living room in an array of pink and sparkles and purple that could cause a seizure in more sensitive people. There were dolls, and a car that held dolls, and some kind of unicorn with a tail that lit up, twinkling cheerfully to the beat of music playing from the creature’s belly. I saw no less than ten dresses, shoes, a pair of yoga pants that had once been mine, now covered in glitter, and lots and lots of tiny socks, inexplicably rolled into little balls.

  “She’s been. . . um, busy.” I said.

  Wulfric smiled. “She has. And then she started itching, and I got concerned and you’re here. That about sums up the last three hours. Oh, and she made me eat thirty-six peanut butter and raisin and cream cheese crackers with sprinkles. I’ll clean up the kitchen after I check on her.”

  “She was cooking again?” I asked, thinking of what a sucker he was for Amelia. We all were.

  “Yes, and insisted that I eat every one of her creations. She positioned the sprinkles just so, which meant that each item was a totally different dish.” He stifled a burp, grimacing. “It really was quite a bit of peanut butter for one sitting, even for me.”

  “I’m writing this down. You’re full? Stars above, Amelia has your number.” My smile fell when I saw concern in his eyes. “Let’s look in on her. She’s in the big bed?”

  He nodded, following me upstairs. Amelia rested in the center of our bed, surrounded by somewhere between ten and one hundred pillows being used as a safety border. It looked like a princess sleeping in the world’s fluffiest medieval fortress, and she was utterly angelic.

  “She had a rash?” I asked in a low voice. He merely nodded, pulling back the pale yellow blanket to reveal her sleeping form. Her hair spilled over the pillow in a tangle, eyes flickering with dreams of a little girl who was loved and protected. I wondered what she saw, then leaned close to examine her shoulder. “Was it there?”

  “It was everywhere, but not all at once. Like goose flesh, but—”

  Amelia’s skin rippled in waves for a fugitive moment, passing over her shoulder to vanish under her little shirt. I snapped my eyes to her leg, cocked to one side in a restful angle. The wave surged over her skin there, ending at her tiny toes before vanishing like a ghost.

  “Did you see? What is it? Is she sick?” Wulfric asked, his tone gravid with worry.

  I put a hand on his arm, pulling him down for a kiss. “She’s fine.” I pushed him to sit next to her, so we were eye to eye. “She’s better than fine, babe.”

  “Better?” His eyes clouded with confusion, then it cleared. “Wait—she’s?”

  I stared down at Amelia, wondering when we would be able to tell her. “She’s a shifter. This is her body’s first experiment, a minor change as she begins to develop her secret ability.”

  “I don’t want her to be like that. I want her to just be,” Wulfric said. I could taste his pain.

  “She’s fine, but she’s your daughter with Anna. That means she’s many things, not the least of which is a magical being with an entire family who loves her. I know it’s hard, but she’s perfect. Look at her,” I said.

  “I know she’s perfect. I just don’t—I want to protect her from the world, and I can’t do it if anything is beyond my control. Like this.” His words were sour, his face dark with anger.

  “There are many things beyond us. This is a small thing, I swear it. She’ll live a strong life, for more years than many people. She won’t get sick or hurt as easily, and she has everything she needs to be amazing. What’s wrong with being magical if you look at it like that?”

  After a long moment, he relented, taking me in his arms. I could hear his heart, slowing but still far from restful. Amelia was his heart. I understood. I felt that way about him, and in our own path, we created orbits around each other, powered by love and respect.

  “I am never letting her go on a date with a boy. Ever. I will sack his castle, I will—”

  “Babe, kids don’t have castles. He might have a car, but even then, you can’t just, you know, crush him like you’re some kind of Viking,” I said into his ear.

  He began to shake with laughter, lifting me up and down like I was in an earthquake. “I admit I may be overreacting.”

  “About her? Never. About boys? I understand. They’re gross.”

  He drew back to regard me with narrowed eyes. “Really?”

  “Yes. Not as icky as eels, but still,” I said, sliding from his grasp. “Now, let’s let her rest. She’ll be hungry when she gets up and I need to establish order after the Girl Hurricane that hit downstairs.”

  Wulfric burped again. “Carlie.”

  “Yes?”

  “Whatever happens next, please don’t make me eat peanut butter for a few days,” he said.

  “What about raisins?” I countered.

  “No. You’ve betrayed me once with oatmeal raisin cookies, and I cannot bear that kind of thing again,” he said as we went downstairs.

  “I didn’t have chocolate chips. I explained that to you.”

  “Then I urge you to think about your crime while you restore order to the living room. I’ll take the kitchen, as I am complicit.” He turned, picked up a dish towel, and walked into the chaos, lips thinned in a determined line.

  It was sexy as hell, and I whistled when he started running hot water. Some things need a moment to admire, and this was one of them.

  Chapter Fifteen: The Big One

  I had two grocery bags swinging from my arms when Tammy pulled up, revving the engine in her latest truck. I was on the way home to make dinner while Wulfric gave Amelia a bath before she went home. Anna was picking her up, and we had to do something about the glitter. Stars above, the glitter. I shook my head to clear the visions of random sparkles and stopped, watching Tammy ease over to the curb.

  “Breakin’ him in. Only been on the road for a week, and we’re still getting to know each other,” she said, patting the truck with affection. I noticed her nails were a deep orange in honor of the coming fall holidays, the most important being Halloween because that was when Tammy really cut loose.

  I have a theory about Halloween that goes well beyond my witchy nature. First of all, I love Halloween—the commercialized holiday, not the sacred day for witches. I love that too, but the national explosion of costumes and candy is just too joyous to ignore, and I embrace it with all my heart every year. My theory pertains to the idea of costumes, because I think it’s the one day out of the year that everyone chooses to get ten percent freakier than they originally intended.

  Consequently, lots of guys dress in drag, and lots of women dress like hookers. I don’t know what that says about society as a whole, but for me, it’s fantastic because watching men fall over in stripper pumps is among my greatest joys in life. Seeing a demure insurance agent dress like she’s out tricking to make rent is another one of my secret thrills, especially when you see men who have known these woman all their lives suddenly stop and take notice.

  Let’s face it, Tammy knows men, and Tammy dresses to show off the girls and her legs every day. She treats every day like Halloween, and cracked the code for getting noticed as soon as she put on her first heels. I love that women—and men who choose to be temporarily fabulous—get to live it up one night and develop severe stomach cramps from too many peanut butter cups. In my book, that is the ultimate win.

  “You look happy with your truck but flustered about something else,” I told her. By flustered, I meant she had a hair out of place, and my comment earned me a look that revealed Tammy was facing, as we say, a challenging day. “What’s his name, by the way?”

  “The truck, or the critter who ruined my day?” she replied, curling her lip a bit. Someone was in trouble, and I was glad it wasn’t me. She was wearing boots, and they looked like they were made for kicking or being sultry while kicking, either of which was well within her skillset.

  “Critter?” My ears perked up at that. Not literally, since I have small ears and it would be weird if they could stand up, but her term got my attention.

  Tammy put her truck in park, turned on the hazards, and jumped out in a motion that had a complete Charlie’s Angels kind of vibe. She lowered her voice before speaking again, which sent my witchy senses into overdrive. “I say critter, but it isn’t anything I’ve ever seen unless a bear decided to make its den right under Albrecht road.”

  “Where on Albrecht?” I asked, thinking of the winding path that the road took out of town. It connected with Creaser and Lamphear roads before ending at a dead end, cut off years ago by the new highway proposal, still unbuilt and still just a red line on the town map.

  “Toward the end, you ever been out that far?” She asked me. There was a serious cast to her eyes, and I didn’t like it. Tammy had an excellent sense of danger, and she was pretty much fearless.

  I had, but she didn’t need the gory details of why. I’d chased a wild spirit out there for a showdown, but the creature’s grief had become so intense, it howled itself into the Everafter before my magic became necessary. It took two days for me to shake off the lingering echoes of sadness. Not all beasties leave without marking me in some way, and it isn’t always a physical touch that can hurt a witch.

  “I know it, more or less. There’s a big culvert where the state was digging before they stopped the project, right?” I asked her.

  “That’s the one, except there’s no culvert now. Whatever was making a nest, or,” she shuddered delicately, wiggling her fingers, “breeding, well, it dug out the whole culvert, threw it down the hill, and left the road exposed to collapse. I’ll let the town know, but thought you might want to take a snoop first before humans get out there and—”

  “Get hurt,” I finished. “Right. Ok, looks like I’m taking a walk.”

  “I know you’re not borrowing Bruce,” she said with mock horror.

  “Bruce? Your truck’s name is Bruce?”

  “He’s got a square jaw, steady ride. I think it fits him, and no, you will never so much as sit in the driver’s seat, young lady,” Tammy said with the air of a British school marm. My reputation for killing cars—and trucks—preceded me, so her warning was a precaution in case I went mad and decided to start driving something other than a bicycle.

  “You’re safe, Bruce!” I called over her shoulder, giving the truck finger guns and smiling at Tammy. “Let me know if you see anything else that seems off, okay?”

  She hugged me and leapt back into the truck. “Got it, kid. Be safe out there. It’s no bear, and you might need your pew-pew.” She made finger guns, winked, and roared off into traffic like a race car driver, which she was, in a way, she just happened to carry packages while racing.

  “Pew-pew indeed,” I said with a sigh. I tilted my head back to check the sky, which was a perfect October blue. I had to go to Albrecht Road, which meant it was time for a hike.

  Chapter Sixteen: Hoofin’ It

  Wulfric was busy making sawdust, so I put on my boots and pointed my feet toward Albrecht Road. My reasoning was solid; I would approach quietly, leave no trace, and be far more likely to catch a magical beastie in the act of digging up the road, although what purpose that served was beyond me.

  I’ve seen beings from the Everafter do truly bizarre things, like the frost demon that collected beer cans and the ghoul that stole every single red sweater it could find in a three-county area. It didn’t wear the sweaters, it just wanted them, like a hoarder, but for cardigans. That quirk, I sort of understood, though red isn’t my color and I find the concept of multiple cardigans to be a tiny bit bougie.

  “Gus, this may surprise you, but I have to go into the woods. Don’t suppose you’d like to come along?” I stood in front of him while he purred, his long body covering most of the counter with that perfect afternoon insouciance of a comfortable cat.

  “Mrowt,” was his answer, followed by a head butt and more rumbling purrs. Okay, so the cat wasn’t buying into a hike, which made me even more certain he was my intellectual equivalent. I rubbed his neck and slipped outside, cutting through my backyard to shave a mile or so off my trip. Being a Halfway native—and a witch—means taking the backroads. Not driving means the backroads are a way to save the afternoon from being entirely lost, so I set a good pace and soon was enveloped in the soaring forest, noises of town fading behind me.

  I became aware of the deer after a few minutes. He was pacing me at a distance, one eye turned my way and picking his way through the leaves with a delicacy beyond an animal that size, but then again, I was in his house, not mine. “Hi friend. Walk with me?”

  If he understood, he didn’t seem to care, but he didn’t leave, either. I think some of the animals around Halfway treat me with care because of Wulfric’s history and the fact that Bindi and her crew are such terrible gossips. The fae are busybodies of the highest order, and telling the animals about my escapades would be high drama for them on a boring afternoon. I smiled at the deer and pressed on, making good time across the ridge to emerge on the closer end of Albrecht Road, a half mile from where Tammy and Bruce had their inconvenient run-in with the missing culvert.

  My boots tapped along the paved road, the sky was bright, and the deer was gone for the moment when I lifted my nose and smelled something that was far from natural.

  Rather, it was natural, but not in such a high concentration. I’m no bloodhound, but even I could tell what was happening in the area. “Mushroom guys. Here we go again,” I grumbled, letting my charms warm up as I began flicking through spells in my mind like a witchy card catalog from an earlier time, settling on something appropriate for a big, stinky fungi with bad intentions.

  Walking along the road, it became apparent that something had been busy, and not just the regulation-sized icky mushroom guy I’d cooked off earlier. The culvert wasn’t just removed, it was fifty feet away, washed out and down the ravine from a vigorous little stream. The stench of mushroom and magic hung around like a relative who won’t leave, and I approached with care, peeking over the side of the road. The land was scarred, the road hanging on by a thread. It would collapse, and soon, leaving no route back to the camps and houses that dotted the farthest end of Albrecht.