“Cripes. Go. You want one of us to come with you?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ll text you if I’m going to be too long.”

  As I stepped outside, snowflakes softly drifted down. The snow on the ground had frozen over, and everything was slick. According to the weather, we weren’t likely to have a thaw anytime soon. Winters in western Washington varied considerably depending on whether there was a La Niña or an El Niño. And magical communities—like the shadow towns—were even more drastic. The weather fluctuated more greatly because of the influx in magical energy.

  Before I pulled away, I texted Killian, telling him what the fire marshal had said. I added that I would get back to him and, after watching for any oncoming cars, eased out onto the road. As I did so, I realized I wouldn’t be back in the office till afternoon, since I had made arrangements to meet Daya for lunch.

  The snowplows hadn’t been by yet. Most towns around western Washington weren’t well-equipped for winter weather because snow wasn’t a guarantee, and when it came, it seldom stayed for long. Although it seemed to me like we had been seeing longer and heavier winters, which firsthand seemed to contradict climate change, but there were exceptions to every rule and more moisture meant more chance of snow.

  The fire marshal had asked me to meet him at City Central. While the stations were scattered around town, the main headquarters was housed in the same building as the police station, the Garrison Library, the courthouse, and several other government organizations.

  I lucked out and found a parking space near the entrance. It looked like a private plow had scraped away the snow and ice, and now I cautiously maneuvered up the stairs, avoiding the ramp, which looked too slick for my boots. It was a different entrance than I was used to taking when I came here to talk to Millie, but the fire headquarters were on the opposite side of the building.

  As I scraped the soles of my shoes on the mat, an officer walked by whom I recognized. I didn’t remember her name, but I had met her a couple times when Millie had come out to examine something we found. The officer must have recognized me too because she waved, then held the door open for me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “No problem. Are you here to see Millie today?”

  I shook my head. “I’m here to see the fire marshal—Captain Wentworth.”

  “Oh, you’ll find him off the second side passage from the left. Nice to see you,” she said with a wave.

  I followed the main corridor, which was almost as wide as a mini-mall, to the second turnoff, where I turned left. I passed both men’s and women’s restrooms, along with a non-gendered restroom that noted there was a baby’s changing table within, and then up ahead I saw a series of offices. The first one was labeled “Fire Marshal Wentworth.” I put my hand on the doorknob, turned, and entered.

  Captain Wentworth was sitting behind his desk. He looked up as I entered the room and I was startled to not see a receptionist. I looked around, realizing that this room was two or three times the average size. Maybe they had renovated.

  “January, thank you for coming so promptly. Why don’t you pull up a chair and sit down. If you don’t mind, we’ll get right to matters. I have a luncheon appointment at one-fifteen and I can’t afford to miss it.”

  He gestured to one of the chairs opposite his desk and I chose the one nearest. The furniture was comfortable, but not pretentious, and I had the feeling that Wentworth was on the up and up. I sat down and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, trying to steel myself for more bad news.

  “You have questions for me? Ask away.” I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. And I didn’t want to be under suspicion.

  “You’re of witchblood descent, correct?”

  I nodded. “My grandmother is Rowan Firesong. And on my mother’s side, my great-grandmother was Colleen Fletcher, one of the founders of Moonshadow Bay.”

  “I thought so,” he said, writing down my answer. “Have you been assessed by the Aseer? If so, what are your magical specialties?”

  “Yes, actually, though only in the past few years. My mother wouldn’t allow me to be assessed when I was young because…” I sighed. It was complicated, but to explain, I’d have to explain thoroughly because it was highly unusual for any witchblood parent to refuse to have their children tested.

  “Because…?”

  “Because my family—long before Colleen and Brian founded Moonshadow Bay—was cursed. Colleen’s mother was cursed by a witch and that hex carried down through all the women in our family. I managed to break it a couple months ago, with a lot of help, but the women in my family previously died far too young because of it. My mother thought that if she refused to allow me to use my magic, it would help forestall the curse.” I shrugged. “All it did was to send my system into shock.”

  “ERS?” He made a notation.

  Surprised, I asked, “You’ve heard of it?”

  “Yeah, actually, a friend’s cousin has it. Her mother was afraid of magic. When she was eight, she was kidnapped and brainwashed by an anti-witchblood group, and kept hidden away. They were found out, but by then, it was too late. All the children that group had kidnapped were royally fucked up. Excuse my language,” he added.

  “I swear like a trucker,” I said. “That’s messed up. Really messed up. At least my mother thought she was doing something to protect me. Anyway, my magic hasn’t been trained very well—not yet, though I’m working on it, but it’s based in the element of earth, and I also have a natural inclination for death magic.”

  He jotted that down. “I assume the Aseer will back up your statements?”

  “Yes, she will.”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “I was at my grandmother’s most of the evening, along with my fiancé. We got home and spent some time together, then when I went into the kitchen for some juice and a snack, I saw the flames out the window.” I shuddered. “Are you sure it’s arson?”

  “I can’t give you a definitive answer now, but I will tell you this—if it wasn’t…then I have no explanation.” He pulled out a sheath of photos and handed me a couple. In the pictures, I could clearly see the metal poppet and a shiver raced through me.

  “That’s a fire poppet. I’ve never seen an actual one before, but I’ve seen pictures.” I examined every aspect of the picture. “Where did you find it?”

  “We found it in what I assume is the pantry.” He was watching me closely. “When did you move?”

  “I moved into Killian’s house about six weeks ago. I’ve been over to spot-clean the place, and then I rented it to Ari, my best friend, and told her to do what she wanted to make it the first-rate salon she deserves.” I stopped. “Wait, there’s something familiar about this…an energy that I have felt before.” I closed my eyes, trying to sort through what could be triggering my memory. Then, I saw it—the mural that had been painted on the wall of my secret room by the Covenant of Chaos. The energy behind it was the same emanating from the photo.

  “Crap, I may know who targeted my house,” I said, opening my eyes.

  “Who?”

  I started to answer, then, once again, stopped. I had no clue who among the citizens of Moonshadow Bay were affiliated with the Covenant of Chaos. We knew that there was still a nest of the vipers here in town, but we didn’t know who had aligned with the chaotic group. Could I trust him? Could I trust Captain Wentworth? I had to give him some answer, now that I’d said I recognized the energy. I hesitated, praying for an interruption.

  For once, the universe was listening to me. An alarm went off and Wentworth dropped his pencil. His phone was at his ear before I could even speak.

  “Where? Oh hell, yes, I’m on my way.” He was on his feet before he could pocket his phone. “I have to go. House fire—chimney caught fire. Happens far too often. We’ll talk later.” He thrust his jacket on and was out the door of his office as I called out a goodbye.

  I glanced at my phone. It was eleven forty-five and I had a date with Daya at one. I decided to call my grandmother and tell her what I had found out. But I’d do it from my car, not from here. Shouldering my purse, I headed out the door, wondering what had factored into me becoming a target.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  As I navigated to the parking lot, which was seriously icing over, my mind raced. I wanted to be wrong, but I knew that I wasn’t. As soon as I slid into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and turned the key in the ignition so I could heat up the car, I plugged Jerica into the hands-free device and said, “Jerica, call Rowan.”

  Rowan picked up on the third ring. “January? Are you all right? I just saw the news and they mentioned that your house caught on fire! Why didn’t you call me?”

  “It was late and there was so much chaos that I couldn’t even think straight.” I looked over my shoulder to see if the way was clear. People around western Washington usually weren’t good drivers in the snow and, as careful as I tried to be, I didn’t count myself out of that demographic.

  “What happened?”

  “After we got home, we spent some time relaxing, and then I went in the kitchen to get some juice and I saw the flames through the window. So I called the fire department. Nobody was hurt, but the house has damage,” I said. “I have no clue how much it will take to fix. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, but it wasn’t superficial. Ari’s going to be out some money too. But there’s something I need to tell you—I need your advice on.”

  “Will you promise to call me immediately if something like this happens again?” Rowan didn’t sound pleased. In fact, I was grateful she wasn’t standing right in front of me.

  “I promise. Now, the fire marshal found evidence of arson—a magical fire poppet.”

  “Any clue who might have planted it?”

  “Yeah, though I didn’t tell him because…” I paused, then explained how the energy off the picture of the poppet had reminded me of the mural in my secret room. “I swear, it’s the same energy from the Covenant of Chaos mural. Given what you told me last night, I’m guessing that I’ve suddenly become a target, and I don’t know why.”

  “What kept you from telling the fire marshal about it?” Rowan asked.

  “I don’t know. I think I’m coming to realize that we don’t necessarily know who people really are, unless they’re close friends. As I started to tell him, I felt some warning bell. I doubt if he’s connected with the Covenant of Chaos, but the reality is that he might say something in front of somebody who is. I’m learning the value of discretion,” I said.

  “That’s an important lesson, and you’re absolutely correct. We don’t know who might be involved, and that makes everyone a potential danger. If he asks later, say that you don’t remember. Plead a migraine if you have to. If the Covenant of Chaos is targeting you, then we have to find out the reason. I’ll call Marquette Sanders up in Terameth Lake. She might have some ideas. Meanwhile, be careful. Don’t take any chances.” Rowan sounded worried. “I’ll call you when I find out anything more.”

  As she signed off, I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was twelve-fifteen. I had forty-five minutes until lunch with Daya. I decided to stop down at the Lace & Leather, a lingerie shop. Flo Johansen was the owner, and she was at least eighty years old. She was also human, but she had a spicy sense of humor.

  “Hey, Flo!” I pushed through the door. There were no other customers in the shop, so I hustled up to the counter.

  Flo looked up and smiled. She was in one of her classic linen pantsuits—an olive pair of palazzo pants with a matching one-button blazer. I thought the outfit might be Anne Klein, but I wasn’t up on labels enough to know for sure. But Flo had the same pantsuit in at least five colors, and that was almost all I’d ever seen her in since I was young and my mother brought me with her when she was shopping for panties and bras. Flo had been in her prime back then, but she still looked snazzy and she was as vocal as ever.

  “January! It’s good to see you. How are you, dear?” Flo had always liked me. When I was a girl, she gave me packets of M&Ms when I came in with my mother. “How are the headaches?”

  Flo had heard about my ERS and had reached out to me, bringing me a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a comfortable microfiber robe to curl up in when I was under the weather.

  “I’m fine—at least today. Let’s hope it lasts through next week!” I looked around. “I decided I need something super racy for my wedding night. I have a gorgeous gown, but I’m thinking a bustier, matching panties, and a garter. Do you have anything in my size?” I wore a size 16, and while my weight had crept up a bit, I still fit in the range for the size.

  “I think we can find something,” Flo said, coming out from behind the counter. “What colors are you interested in?”

  “Purple, blue, green…maybe burgundy. Black will work, too.” I didn’t look good in pastels, and while I could pull off autumn colors, jewel tones were best for me.

  “I think…wait here.” She disappeared into the back of the shop and when she returned, she was holding a gorgeous bustier that was burgundy and green striped. It was crafted with a soft lace that wouldn’t irritate my skin, and it was every bit as sexy as I hoped. It came with a pair of red and green striped thigh-high stockings that were both sheer and yet obviously holiday-themed, and gold lamé panties. “Here, what do you think?”

  “It certainly fits the season,” I said. “I like it. All right, let me try on the bustier. If it fits, the panties should too.”

  Flo adjusted the straps and then handed it to me. I went into the dressing room and stripped. The bustier had snaps in front so it was easy to put on. I was surprised by how well the bra part supported my boobs. I turned this way and that, examining myself in the mirror.

  It had taken awhile for me to accept that Killian was attracted to my body, but now I believed him. And the more confident I had become in my own life, the more confident I had become in my looks.

  My ex had left me for a trophy wife—well, girlfriend. She broke up with him before they could get married. During our marriage, he had harangued me night and day about my weight, about my magic, about my talent—every time I turned around, Ellison was on my back about how I wasn’t his perfect woman, about how he no longer found me sexy, about how I was a freak since I was witchblood. I hated to admit it, but I had put up with his emotional abuse for eighteen years.

  Now, though, he was under house arrest in Bellingham and I’d left him behind. It occurred to me that I needed to devise a ritual to help me let go of some of the residual anger that was still lodged in my subconscious, but for the most part, Ellison no longer figured into my daily thoughts.

  I peeked out of the fitting room. “I love it. Do you have one like it in any other color? I’ll take this one, but I’d like one for later on, when the holidays are over.”

  “I have one in fuchsia—it would look lovely on you. I’m afraid those are the only two colors in your size, though. I can check on the company’s website to see if they have any other choices, if you like.” When Flo mentioned my size, there was never any attachment to it, which I appreciated.

  “No, fuchsia will be fine. I like fuchsia.” I dressed again and took the bustier up to the counter. Flo brought the rest of the set and the fuchsia one over, wrapping them in tissue paper and putting them in a weather-proof shopping bag.

  “Your total comes to $94.50, please.”

  I handed her my credit card. “I’ll see you soon—I always do a new underwear run at the beginning of the year, so I’ll probably be back next month. Happy Solstice, and have a wonderful New Year!”

  “Happy Solstice to you too, my dear, and may your wedding be everything you hope for.” She waved me out of the shop.

  As I did my best to avoid falling on the slippery sidewalk, one of the neighboring shop owners came out and started shoveling. The snow began to fall in earnest. I tossed the bag in the backseat of my car and, glancing at the time, headed out to the steakhouse to meet up with Daya.

  The Moonshadow Steakhouse was near the southern border of the town. On the outside, it appeared to be a rustic log cabin, something you might see way up in the mountains. But that was a façade. Once you stepped inside, an elegant ambience took over. The lighting was dim, but not so dark that it felt like a bar. I walked over to the front desk where the hostess stood waiting.

  “I’m January Jaxson and I reserved a table for two.”

  She glanced down the list of reservations and then tapped her finger on one line. Her nails were long and curved, the kind I’d never be able to keep up. I had my nails done now on a regular basis, and they were pretty but functional. The hostess’s nails would make it difficult to pull down her underwear in the bathroom. I always wondered how women wearing that length of nails managed it. Maybe they went commando instead.

  “Yes, here you are. Would you like to be shown to your table now or do you want to wait for the other member of your party?”

  “Why don’t you show me to the table now.”

  She picked up two menus, and motioned for me to follow her. The carpeting had a Persian rug motif, but it was obviously meant for restaurants because it looked durable and easy to clean. The booths were comfortable and easy to slide into, and the tables and chairs were a dark mahogany. The leather on the seats of the booths was a hunter green. The food was excellent, and Killian and I came here at least once every couple weeks for date night.

  I slid into the booth, and accepted the menu. A waitress brought over two water goblets filled with ice and water, then disappeared again as the hostess handed one of the menus to me and placed the other on the second placemat.

  “Can I get you started with a drink while you wait?”

  “A triple sugar-free mocha with whipped cream.” My phone jangled and I glanced at the text. It was from Daya.

  i’ll be there in 10 minutes. held up at a stoplight.