“I’m the only dragonette you’ve ever met,” Fancypants said with a laugh.

  “That means you’re the best.” I snickered, rubbing him on his head, between his eyes. He loved that, and he giggled, squirming. “I’ll be okay, little one. Don’t worry about me.”

  Fancypants rubbed against my hand, his eyes luminous. “As you wish, dear friend.”

  “So, what are your plans for today?” Grams asked.

  “I’m getting tired of sitting around. Since my shop was destroyed, thanks to Gloria, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do next. I can live for a while on the proceeds of my father’s insurance policy, but I’d rather invest it and find a passion to pursue. I suppose after I learn more magic, maybe I’ll know, but right now, I feel at loose ends.”

  “What about opening up a new shop?”

  I shrugged. “I thought of it, but I’m not certain. But I think I’ll start taking on clients again, though. I built up a tidy clientele during the time the shop was open. I’m going to send out a newsletter after Thanksgiving, opening up my business again but with the focus on tarot readings. That way I can make my own hours and I won’t be tied to a regular schedule.” I needed to have more business cards made, and I also needed to rebuild, at least a two-room shop with a bathroom. I didn’t want strangers in my house.

  “That sounds like a good idea.” She paused. “I talked to Diedre the other day. I asked her if she might want to move over here with me.”

  “Oh?” That was news. My aunt Diedre—technically she was my father’s half sister, and a half succubus—was agoraphobic. She lived with Grams in Stromness. While she was high functioning, she had several mental and emotional issues due to her heritage. “What did she say?”

  “She said no. She misses me, but she’s not comfortable leaving home. I told her that was fine, and that I’d make a trip to visit her next summer. I thought you might want to come along.” Grams looked at me expectantly. “It would give you a chance to see where your father—and mother—lived, and you’d be able to meet other relatives who are still over there.”

  “I’d love to go with you.” I had never been out of the US, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. “How is she, otherwise?”

  “She’s doing fine. You know that my friend Muriel watches out for her, and she keeps me informed. Diedre is happy puttering in the gardens during the day, or she’ll sketch, or write poetry or read. She’s incredibly talented. One day I wouldn’t be surprised to find her publishing a book or selling her paintings. She lives the quiet life of what would have been considered a maiden aunt back in the day, and she’s content with it.” Grams paused, listening. Bree was stirring in the living room. “I’ll start some breakfast for Bree.”

  The front door opened and closed, and I knew that Bree was checking on Oscar and Atlas. I rinsed my dishes, then leaned against the counter. “What’s on the docket today?”

  “I’m going to go talk to Randy about the house. Do you want to come with me so you can see it?” Grams finished Bree’s omelet and set it on the table, along with sausage links.

  “I’d love to. I want to check out this house of yours.” I pretend-pouted. “I wish you wouldn’t move.”

  “You’ll be glad for it once you’re settled with Bran…and…or Faron.” She paused. “You didn’t tell me how yesterday went. I get the feeling it wasn’t what you were expecting.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t,” I said, sighing.

  Bree entered the kitchen. “Do I smell—ooo, is that mine?” She made a beeline for the plate.

  “Yours and yours alone,” Grams said. “Now, what happened?”

  I told Grams about what had happened with Faron. “He doesn’t remember anything.”

  “There are magical ways to bring that information to the surface, but it might damage him given the injuries he incurred,” Grams said. “I’m sorry, but it looks like you’ll have to wait.”

  Downhearted, I nodded. “I’ve resigned myself to that. Is it wrong that I’m hoping that Bran isn’t gleefully happy over this?”

  “Wrong? No, but a little selfish? Yes. He’s not the one who originally wanted to be in a thruple.” Bree gave me a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, but that’s how I see it. He only agreed because you wanted this. I mean, he’s obviously okay with it, because otherwise he would have said no, but…I can see why he might feel like things are working out for the best.”

  I glanced over at Grams, but she didn’t say a word. “Okay, let’s have it. How do you feel about this?”

  “You know my choice for you has been Bran since the day I met him. But you have to be happy as well. Not everybody is slated for monogamy. I know a number of polyamorous couples who are happy. But make certain Bran is happy, not just tolerating, the choice. If he’s not content, that resentment will grow. If he’s just telling you what you want to hear, you need to cut him free so he can find long-term happiness.” She continued cleaning the counter.

  I sat down, wondering if they were right. Was Bran okay with this only because he thought I wanted it? In my heart, I believed he meant what he said, but now, a thread of doubt crept in. “I’ll ask him to be honest. This all may be moot, if Faron never remembers us, but in case it’s not… As for Faron, I have no clue what he’ll think. I may never know.”

  Bree pushed her plate back. “We’re not ganging up on you, but when hearts are involved, you have to be certain. You need to know for the long run. For everybody’s happiness.” She hesitated, then added, “I’ve never met someone I wanted to marry, or even settle down with. But if I do, I want to ensure their happiness as much as I can.”

  What they said made sense, and I knew all this, though I hadn’t wanted to face it. “I know I sound indecisive. The world pairs off, but when I look back at Rian, I think that we wouldn’t have been happy. Not in the long run.”

  “That’s possible, my dear,” Grams said. She suddenly stopped, then said, “You don’t blame yourself for his death anymore, do you?”

  I slowly turned to face her, a storm of emotions churning in my heart. “Not exactly, but what if he was taken away because I didn’t recognize that we weren’t meant for each other? What if fate decided that we weren’t meant to be together and I missed all the signs, so…”

  “No,” Grams said. “Life doesn’t work like that. The gods don’t punish people because they don’t see everything coming. Sometimes, life just happens. Sometimes, life sends you crap because you’re the closest target. Contrary to what the toxic positivity movement claims, the universe isn’t clockwork, and just because we want something doesn’t mean we’re going to get it. Conversely, we don’t necessarily cause trauma to happen if we aren’t cheerful all the time.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. For the most part, I’ve moved on from his death. But sometimes, I still feel that maybe if I hadn’t been tipsy, I would have felt there was danger nearby…or if I would have listened to myself more, I would have suggested we take a taxi home.”

  “It’s easier to blame ourselves than to accept that sometimes there’s no control. That for some events, we have no say over what happens.” Grams sat down beside me. “You didn’t cause his death, you didn’t miss any signs. Neither did Rian. The two of you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She paused. “Not to change the subject, but the Butcher’s still out there, you know. And while May helped you disconnect from him, I think it would be a good idea to beef up your wards on a regular basis.”

  “I wish I’d done that, given the mess with Evan,” Bree said. She finished her breakfast. “All right, I’m ready for the day. I’ll gather the dogs and head out. I have an appointment at eleven to talk about a winter camping trip in the Quinault forest.”

  “Make sure they’re seasoned hikers,” I said. “You don’t want a repeat of that stupid bunch of idiots who tried to sue you last month.”

  “They backed off the moment my lawyer confronted them. I’m going to take this group on a day hike first, a short one. It will give me a good idea of their capabilities. And if they can’t handle it, we won’t be planning the winter trip.” She glanced at her phone. “Okay, I need to run.”

  As I gave her a hug, she whispered, “Seriously, talk to Bran. It will ease your mind and his.”

  “I know,” I said. “I will.”

  I walked her out to her car and glanced at the sky. It was cold and crisp, with partial cloud cover. The tree boughs were barren. We weren’t due for snow, not yet, but the wind felt restless, and beyond it, I could sense winter waiting in the wings.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After cleaning the house, Grams and I headed out to meet Randy at the new house. I poked around the old ranch house, but it was well made from what I could see, and updated nicely. It would be perfect for Grams, and it was on a tidy lot that wasn’t too big. There was plenty of room for a kitchen garden, an herb garden, and yet it wouldn’t require more than a light mowing. The house needed new paint, in and out. Grams was like me—she detested beige and the entire house was beige—but that could be changed. The kitchen was fully updated, the inspector was coming the next morning, and, in my gut, I knew that this was where Grams would be settling.

  “This is wonderful,” I said, poking around. “I think it’s going to be a good place for you.” But my mind wandered. “Do you mind if I go home? I want to look at the journal again.” I both wanted to take my mind off Faron and, at the same time, read more of my father’s diary.

  “Of course. So, do you approve?” Grams gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  “I approve, heartily. This is a lovely house, and you’re right, it’s close to me. Okay, I’ll see you later. I’ll walk. We’re only five blocks away.” I glanced out at the sky. “It’s not going to rain for a while, so I should make it home before the storm breaks.”

  I headed out, grateful that there was a sidewalk, even though it was overgrown and broken, and I set out at a brisk pace. I was wearing my leather jacket and a muffler around my neck, and I found a pair of gloves in my pocket.

  The neighborhood I lived in was just outside the boundaries of the city limits. Grams’s neighborhood was just inside. While the houses in the area were older, the owners kept them in good shape. Most of them were single-story ramblers and ranch houses, with a few two-story homes tucked into pockets, usually newer builds. Starlight Hollow had city rules against dense development, so they couldn’t do what was happening all over western Washington—short platting multiple houses on small lots.

  As I dashed across the street, the clouds darkened and a flash illuminated the air. I slowed, counting to four before a rumble of thunder rolled through. The storm was four miles away. I was near my driveway, and began to sprint as the clouds opened and fat raindrops splashed down. I wrapped my scarf over my head and ran faster.

  Another flash, another clap—closer—and the rain started to pound, stinging me as it bit into my exposed skin. I darted up the steps and ducked into the enclosed patio, shivering. I loved my leather, but it wasn’t waterproof. Darting up the steps, I fumbled for my key and then let myself in. I kicked off my shoes and then set them out on the porch to dry.

  After shrugging off my jacket and hanging it up, I closed the door behind me, peeled off my pants, and headed toward my bedroom. My legs were clammy, the leather pants were damp, and I decided that I’d change into a long skirt and a warm tank. After changing, I brushed out my hair and fixed my makeup.

  Fancypants flew into the bedroom with me and he sat on the bed, watching as I changed clothes. I’d gotten over feeling awkward around him. He was a dragonette. I was a witch. There was no weirdness there.

  “How was the house?” he asked.

  “Perfect, damn it. I told her to buy it.” I wrinkled my nose. “I wish she could stay here⁠—”

  “She’ll be right down the street, won’t she?”

  I nodded. “It’s within walking distance, so that’s cool.”

  A huge thunderbolt shook the house.

  “Yikes, that’s too close for comfort. I’m glad I’m inside now. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” I retrieved my father’s journal from the living room and, after grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, returned to the bedroom and stretched out on my stomach, propping myself up with a few pillows. I set the journal in front of me.

  “What’s that?” Fancypants settled down near me, staring at the journal. Gem and Silver came bouncing into the room and up on the bed to curl by my feet. They hated thunderstorms and we always cuddled when thunder rattled the house. Luckily, we didn’t have many lightning storms, though fireworks triggered the same fear in them.

  “My father’s diary. He kept it the last four months of his life. My aunt found it and sent it to me. I’m not telling my mother.” I opened it, flipping past the entry I had read. The next one was written two days later—April 9, 1996.

  Elf is growing so fast. I love her with all my heart. I’m worried that Catharine isn’t taking to motherhood like I hoped she would. I take care of Elf’s needs most of the time, and I don’t mind doing so, but I have to work to pay the bills. Catharine keeps complaining about feeling stifled, but I reminded her, she made the choice to be a mother. I didn’t force it on her.

  Today I went into the secret room again. I tried to stay away, to keep it locked. But I couldn’t help myself. Once again, Neylan offered me the chance to make it big. It would be so easy to turn my back on my ethics. And I have the perfect position for it. But I can’t do that to my clients. And I can’t scam them out of their money. I can’t give up my autonomy for the chance to be rich and famous. But each time, it’s harder to say no, and it’s harder to avoid visiting. But Neylan’s getting pushy. I’m running out of time. If I don’t agree, he’ll force me and then I’ll lose who I am, and my family will be in trouble.

  I’ve done all the warding I can, and I’ve talked to Drew, who knows everything, in case something happens to me. I’ve hidden a letter for Catharine, but whether she’ll find it or not, I don’t know. But I can’t leave it out where anybody can find it. So, I’m doing the only thing I can—I’m leaving it in my favorite place, and I hope it’s found, if it comes to that. My biggest hope is that, twenty years from now, I’ll be able to tell everyone about it and it will all be over and done with. Obviously, I’m being vague here, given that what I know could put others in danger if they found out and I’ll never do that. Hell, why did I ever get involved?

  Drew…I had no idea who that was. I peeked at the next page, but the entry was—to my surprise—a picture of me when I was three, and a heart drawn around it.

  “He must have really loved you,” Fancypants said. He was learning to read. Two weeks ago, he learned to read English and French. Last week, he learned German and Spanish. This week, he was studying Spanish. I had no clue what to say about his proficiency, except to rejoice that I had my own personal translator. Dragons were apparently brilliant.

  “I guess he did,” I said. “My mother never told me how he felt about me. She never says much about him at all. She was traumatized finding his body, and she…it was like the moment the funeral was over, she stopped talking about him. At times, it felt as though he had never existed and that I dreamed him up.” I set the journal to the side. “I want to read the rest, but I’m finding it hard to make myself open the book.”

  “Why? What are you afraid of?” Fancypants asked.

  “I think… I think I’m afraid that I’ll find out he was a rotten man. He was wrapped up in something that frightened him. I have no idea what, but it sounds like somebody was trying to force him to rat out his clients—or do something to them. He was on the Port Townsend Witches’ Council. Grams mentioned that they hushed up his death.” I rolled over on my back and bent my right knee, then crossed my left ankle across it.

  My phone jangled and I reached for it, holding it up so I could see. Bran was texting me.

  hey sweetheart. how are you feeling? would you like to go out for dinner? i thought we could go to carter’s steakhouse. i want to talk to you about something.

  tonight? i’m free.

  i’ll pick you up at seven, then. dress up. love you.

  By the time Grams arrived home, I had made a batch of chocolate chip cookies, distracted Gem and Silver from the thunderstorm, lost a game of Scrabble to Fancypants, and was sorting through my closet for something nice to wear. Nice was a relative term. To me, nice included leather but I didn’t think that was what Bran meant. I spotted a cobalt blue dress in the back. It was a cold-shoulder dress, a light jersey knit. It had a plunging V-neck, and with a patent leather black belt, it would be warm, cozy, and pretty. I redid my makeup, then dressed and put on a pair of chunky-heeled patent leather boots that laced up the front.

  “Don’t you look pretty?” Grams said as I returned to the kitchen. “Where are you off to?”

  “I’m having dinner with Bran. He’s taking me to Carter’s Steakhouse. He said he had something important to talk about, and asked me to dress up.”

  A delighted look spread across Grams’s face. “I wonder…” she murmured.

  I was fixing a latte. “You wonder what?”

  “I wonder if he wants to ask you a certain question.” She held up her hand before I could protest. “And don’t you stop me. I know what you’ve been going through, and I know how you feel. But it’s plain as the nose on anybody’s face how Bran feels about you. There’s no way that you can deny it. That man is in love with you. And I know that you love him. And yes—I know you also love Faron. I’m not questioning your devotion to him. But don’t throw away a jewel in your hand, for the hope of one that might be hiding in the bushes.”

  I sat down by her at the table. “I know you’re right. And yes, I do love Bran. But how can I accept a marriage proposal from one man when I’m waiting to see if the other love of my life even remembers what we had? What if Faron hears about the engagement and then remembers what we had? Would it be fair to him for me to move on, before he’s had a chance to remember? It was only a few months ago that he was hurt, so should I throw away what we had without giving him time to heal?” Even as I desperately tried to argue, I could feel my protests weakening.