Killian cleared his throat. “Make sure your seat belts are fastened. The roads are incredibly slick.” He was doing his best to focus on his driving, but we kept skidding from one side to another.

  The good news was that there weren’t many drivers on the road. Most everybody had managed to either go home, or hunker down where they were. The fury of the storm had increased and I caught my breath as I pressed my nose to the window. I could barely see anything, it was coming down so hard.

  “Are we going to be able to make it up Arnica Avenue?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but we’ll try. I do have all-wheel drive, so we may be able to make it.” He squinted, peering through the windshield. “The turn is coming up in another block. Please let me concentrate.”

  “I’m not doing anything,” I said. I hadn’t said a word. I was just thinking about how much I’d like to curl up in his arms right now. After all Louise and I had been through I just wanted to feel safe and protected, and I was coming to realize that Killian made me feel safe.

  “I know, but I can…sense your thoughts,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I can smell the pheromones, love. So please, think of something else while I try to navigate up the hill.”

  I stared at him. This was the first time he had ever said he could smell my desire, and even though it was mostly just cuddling I had been thinking of, I wondered how many times he could smell when I was horny. Cripes. Now I was embarrassed.

  “Not a problem,” I said, resolutely staring out at the snow. I moved my thoughts over to the Spit & Whistle briefly but that sparked a buttload of anxiety, so I brought up my phone and texted Ari, asking if she was okay. Luckily, she worked out of her house, so she should be safe, but I wanted to make sure.

  i’m safe at home. are you okay? i had a feeling something was wrong and was going to call you, she texted back.

  bad morning. with killian now, though, so am safe. we’re about to try getting up arnica avenue. wish us luck.

  let me know if you need anything and when you make it home.

  i’ll call you when we’re there. I slid my phone back into my pocket as we came to the bottom of the hill.

  Killian stopped a little ways away from the turn that would take us up the hill. Actually, it was more of a jog. We were in the left turn lane, but we’d have to cross the oncoming lane, then almost immediately, swing right to go up the hill. Halfway up, we’d have to pause at a light and make a sharp left turn to navigate up the rest of the winding road. That would be a sticky spot unless we hit the light when it was green. Staying in place at the light, then attempting to get enough momentum to make the turn and propel us up the rest of the ascent was the most troubling patch.

  “Okay, hold on, this may be bumpy and we’ll be sliding some. Luckily, there aren’t any other cars on the road, but keep your eyes open in case I miss something.” Killian took a deep breath, then slowly put pressure on the gas.

  We swung into the turn lane at precisely the right time, and then onto the first part of Arnica Avenue. I watched the turn signal ahead, which could barely be seen through the blowing storm. Green…stay green…please stay green, I thought. If it stayed green, we wouldn’t have to stop and could gain more momentum for the harder part of the hill.

  And…green it was!

  We pushed through just as the light started to turn yellow, and Killian gently swung to the left. The SUV went sliding toward the sidewalk, but he drove into the skid and managed to even it out while slowly increasing speed. I held my breath as we inched the rest of the way up Arnica to the top. From here, it was even ground to Fern Street and home.

  Ten minutes later of slow, creeping travel, and we were in my driveway. Killian parked the SUV. “I’ll leave it here, if you don’t mind. You won’t be getting your car until tomorrow—if then. Unless we have a sudden thaw, we may be stuck for a couple days.”

  “Come in with us,” I said. “It looks like we have electricity,” I added, glancing at the street lights, which were on. “I’ll make us all dinner and we can watch the news and find out when this storm’s going to end.”

  “Sounds good to me,” he said.

  We piled out of his car and my shoulder blade popped as I rolled my shoulders to loosen them. Apparently, I’d been so tense that I’d given myself a crick in my neck. Either that or diving for cover in the bar had done it.

  “I ache,” I said, cautiously plowing through the shin-high snow. There had to be almost ten inches by now. While that was a good thing in some situations, snow was not one of them, especially when you were snowed in.

  “Me too,” Louise said.

  “We’re taking hot baths the minute we get inside,” I told her. “Killian, can you lay a fire, while Louise and I get the chill out of our bones? It was cold down at that restaurant.”

  “And dangerous. I still smell like whiskey,” Louise said, sniffing the arm of her jacket. “It got on my coat.”

  “You were drinking? That’s not a good idea,” Killian said. “Booze only—”

  “We weren’t drinking. The ghosts were throwing bottles of booze at us and almost clobbered us several times,” I said, shuddering. “I just hope that one of them doesn’t get the idea to spark off a fire—there was enough alcohol on the floor to fuel a nasty one.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” Louise said. “I hadn’t even thought of that. Well, there’s nothing I can do. At least I don’t have any pets to worry about.”

  “I would have had you bring them with you if you did,” I said. “There’s no way we’d leave an innocent animal behind there. Now come on, let’s go upstairs. You can use the guest room and I’ll find you…” I paused, assessing her build. She was thinner than I was, but about the same height. “I have a caftan you can wear—it’s one size fits all, which is a lie of course, but it shouldn’t be terribly big on you.”

  “As long as it’s dry and doesn’t smell like booze, I’m good,” she said.

  I led her to the guest room, then found the caftan, along with a towel and washcloth. “Here. When you’re done, just go on downstairs. The washer and dryer are in the hallway, so go ahead and wash your clothes, if you like. There’s a mini-basket in the washing machine that’s the perfect size for washing a pair of jeans and shirt and underwear. The instructions on the machine are pretty self-explanatory, and the laundry detergent is in the cupboard directly above the dryer.”

  She thanked me and withdrew to change clothes. The guest room had a smaller en suite bathroom, with a tub–shower combination. My en suite had a soaking tub, a walk-in shower, and a full-length double-sink vanity. My parents had renovated several rooms in the house about five years ago, and their master bath was one of those rooms. For their closet, my folks had sacrificed about three feet of the bedroom all along the back wall to create a wall-length closet with folding doors. The bedroom was still big enough for a king-size bed, and although it had been awkward at first, taking my parents’ room and turning my old bedroom into the guest room, that discomfort had eventually disappeared.

  I stripped and stood under the shower, streaming hot water all over my body to take away the chill. I bundled my hair up into a bun and put on a shower cap, though, because I didn’t trust that our power would hold and I didn’t want to face a power outage with cold, wet, hair.

  Finally, feeling warmer and more relaxed, I toweled off and dressed in a bohemian skirt and a V-neck sweater. I brushed my hair and held it back with a headband. Then I touched up my makeup, put on a pair of comfortable ballerina flats, and headed downstairs.

  Xi and Klaus were sitting in front of the fireplace, staring with wide eyes at the dancing flames. Killian was in the kitchen, by the sound of his whistling, and I caught a sudden whiff of what smelled like Thanksgiving. I peeked in to find him stirring a pot.

  “What are you cooking? It smells delicious.”

  “Turkey soup. I found some leftover diced turkey in the freezer. I hope you don’t mind.” He looked up from the stove, smiling.

  “Of course not. You’re making soup from scratch? Yum.” I moved to the other counter, where the cutting board and paring knife were sitting. I scooped the potato and carrot peelings into the garbage, then tossed away the bag that the frozen broccoli had been in, and rinsed the knife and board. “Why don’t we reheat up the rest of the corn muffins?”

  There were still eight muffins in the refrigerator. “I’ll heat these up in the microwave right before the soup is done.” I leaned against Killian and he wrapped his free arm around my waist and planted a kiss on my forehead.

  I leaned in, resting my lips on his, and he kissed me deeply, setting the spoon down so he could fully embrace me. I caught my breath, wanting him right there, right then.

  “Can you really smell me when I’m…” I suddenly felt shy. It seemed such an odd thing to have to ask.

  “Yes, I can,” Killian said. “Wolf shifters can always smell their mates and how they’re feeling, if the emotion is strong enough. I could smell your fear when I first arrived down at the Spit & Whistle Pub. I could smell your worry on the drive home, and now, I can smell that…you want me. I want you too, but we can’t just run off and leave your guest to fend for herself.” He gathered my face in his hands, then kissed my forehead again, and the tip of my nose, and then my mouth.

  “I know. I just needed to ask. It’s an odd shift for me, knowing that, but I’ll get used to it.”

  “Wolf shifters take their mates seriously, and their duties. I will protect you as much as I can, and I’m grateful for your desire. That’s the greatest compliment a woman can give her mate, to hunger for him, to want him in her bed and her life.” At that moment, he paused. “Louise is coming down the stairs. I can hear her.” He let go of me and went back to stirring the soup. “Five more minutes. Go ahead and heat up the muffins and set the table,” he added.

  I nodded, popping the muffins onto a paper towel–lined plate and tucking them in the microwave. While it was running, I carried my large soup bowls—a pattern called Winterberry Woods—over to the table and then added silverware and bread plates.

  “I know you had chowder last night,” Killian said. “I hope you don’t mind soup again.”

  “The corn chowder was good, but I have to be honest, during the winter I can eat soup every day. Turkey, chicken, tomato, chowders, bisques…you name it, I’ll eat it.” I remembered that I had promised to call Ari when I got home. While Killian poured the soup into a tureen, I pulled out my phone and rang her number.

  “Hey, we made it home safe. But crap, I tell you, girl, that restaurant is haunted in the worst of ways. How are you?” I suddenly remembered that she had wanted to talk to me about something. “Didn’t you say you had something to tell me?”

  She laughed. “Oh that, it’s nothing serious. Nothing bad—actually, it’s something good, and you’re the one who inspired it. Meagan and I are engaged!”

  “Wow, talk about a change!” I paused. I liked Meagan and I had known they were more than casual, even if they hadn’t, but this was a big leap. “What made you decide to do that? I thought you were just casual,” I said, grinning. I had known they were more than just casually dating.

  “You’re the one who made me look at my feelings on a deeper level, and I realized that you’re right. It’s not a casual affair and it never was. We just called it that because we’ve both been hurt in the past.” Ari let out a happy sigh. “I can’t believe I’m engaged.”

  “I’m happy for you,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if I meant it 100 percent. But I also realized I had just gotten out of a bad marriage and my reactions might be skewed because of that. I decided to just go with it. “That’s wonderful, Ari. Give Meagan my love and when the roads are clear, we’re going to celebrate. I have to go—Killian just put lunch on the table and I have a guest here, but I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

  As I sat down to eat, thoughts of ghosts and shadow men and engagements raced through my head, like some maniacal sugar-plum dream. Only instead of Santa, I was pretty sure Krampus was behind this day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Killian stayed the night, and after we had made love, I slipped out from beneath the covers once he was softly snoring. I slid my robe on and padded downstairs and into the library. Crossing to the chest where my mother’s ritual gear was, I knelt in front of it.

  As I opened the lid, the smell of cedar rose from it, soothing my senses. The chest had belonged to my mother, and before her, to my grandmother. I suspected it went back to my great-grandmother Colleen, who had come over from Ireland. It was Colleen’s side of the family through which our magical gifts passed. I knew I had cousins scattered around, descendants of other members of her family, but I didn’t have any names or addresses. All of a sudden, I was hungry to know about them, to follow our family history back as far as I could. I made a note to ask Teran the next time I talked to her. She kept track of all the information like that.

  I pulled out my mother’s athame, the ritual dagger she had used to cast circles. The hilt was holly wood, with a silver pommel and cross guard. The double-edged blade was long and curved, almost like a kris knife. I held it up, wondering if I should use it or find one of my own. Either way, I needed to start studying the magic that I had put to the side when I married Ellison. It had been too long, and there was a lot to catch up on, but better late than never, I thought.

  Stand up, Esmara whispered. Stand in the middle of the room and raise the dagger out in front of you, pointing with the flat of the blade turned toward the ceiling.

  Startled, I quickly obeyed. When the Ladies spoke, you answered. Unless you wanted them to teach you a lesson the hard way.

  Now, I want you to focus on a beam of energy running down through your crown chakra. Pull the energy down and through you, and channel it into the blade.

  I closed my eyes, visualizing the energy of… What kind of energy? Where do I draw it from?

  From the sky above, from the ground below, from the waves of the bay, from the flames in the fireplace. It depends on what you want to do with it. For now, focus on channeling it from the night around you.

  Okay, then. I focused on the energy in the house, the hush of the night, the shadows of the evening, and I gathered the energy and brought it in through my crown chakra. Instantly, I felt stronger. I straightened and coaxed the energy down into my arm to run along through it, feeling it spark and pop as I channeled it into the blade. Now what?

  Next, focus the energy out of the tip of the blade as you slowly turn. You remember how to do this. Your mother taught you, but you’re rusty and you need some guidance.

  I focused the energy out of the tip of the blade, as directed, and at first felt some resistance, but then the block jogged loose and it began to flow through my arm, into my hand, and then out the point of the blade. As soon as the jolt hit me, I remembered my mother, teaching me to cast a circle when I was a little girl. I began to turn, drawing a line of energy around me until it met itself and interlocked, forming a ring of power that surrounded me.

  Build the sphere… Esmara’s words echoed in my head.

  I placed the dagger on the coffee table and held out my hands, keeping connected to the pulse of the circle. I began to run the energy in a curved pattern, up over my head, then down below my feet, sweeping it into a bubble surrounding me. Then, when I was encased within the protective shield, I held out both arms, my left hand palm up, my right palm down, and infused the sphere with more of the energy, inching it outward. The kii—the magical energy—ran strong, flowing through my veins, flowing out my hands, enlarging the sphere of protection. It grew larger and larger and I opened my eyes, seeing the faint golden light expand around me like a balloon, until it encompassed the house. But unlike a balloon, the sphere was strong and resilient, and couldn’t be easily popped or deflated. Then I found the cord of the sphere, a lot like an umbilical cord that was firmly anchored through the floor, and I grounded it even more, sinking it through the floor and past the foundation, down into the ground so that it took hold and rooted. Finally, I held out my hands, both palms up, and whispered:

  Magic from the silver moon,

  Protection from the golden sun,

  Ground this circle, protect this home,

  As I will, so be it done.

  Another second and I felt the circle of protection lock into place, and I relaxed. I had just formally warded my home. While it wouldn’t protect against Val Slater getting through—that would take a charm of a different sort—it should keep negative spirits and beasties from dropping in without warning.

  Satisfied, I sat down on the loveseat in the library and took a deep breath. The energy felt cleansed and clear, and I felt a peace of mind that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I’d never felt this way in Seattle.

  I glanced at the clock. It was eleven-thirty. Not quite the witching hour, not yet. I padded out to the living room and over to press my nose against the front window. The snow was still coming down. If it kept up, we’d have at least sixteen inches by morning.

  As I turned back to the living room, I saw Xi watching me with wide eyes. She bounced over, then launched herself up, into my arms.

  “You know when you’re a big girl, that sort of thing is going to knock me off balance,” I murmured, stroking her fur.

  “Purp,” she trilled, then snuggled against me. I caught a wisp of a thought—though cats thought in imagery and feelings more than words. Xi felt safe, which meant the circle of protection had taken. Carrying her up the stairs, I stroked her fur gently as we both yawned. The last thing I remembered after crawling into bed was Xi’s rumbling purr as she curled on my pillow. Klaus was curled up next to Killian, and just before I fell asleep, I thought that—ghosts or not—I was a pretty lucky woman.

  Next morning we all got up late. I didn’t bother to set the alarm. There was no way in hell I’d be going in to work today, and I texted Tad to tell him I couldn’t make it.