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I was sitting at a table to the left side of the stage, nursing a drink, watching as the Boys of Bedlam rocked the house.

The Vulture Underground was a new club in Seattle. With a capacity of five hundred people, it was one of the largest clubs around. The guys had managed to pack it, making the manager happy. Word about their music was starting to spread, and they were getting more and more calls from events wanting to book them for gigs.

Ferris Parks, their rep from DreamGen Productions, was sitting beside me, watching them with a critical eye. She jotted down notes as they played. Part of me wanted to sneak a peek over her shoulder to see what she was writing. It was bound to be something nasty. I didn’t like Ferris, and she didn’t like me, but we did our best to coexist because I sure as hell wasn’t going away, and unfortunately, neither was she.

A woman ran up toward the stage. Before security could catch her, she had scrambled onto the raised dais and was yanking off her underwear. The bouncers managed to catch her but not before she had tossed her panties in Aegis’s face. I let out a groan and rubbed my head.

Lovely. Just lovely.

Aegis swatted them away, managing to finish the song without a glitch. Then, grabbing the mic, he raised his hand for attention. “We’re grateful how many of you came out to cheer us on tonight. Thank you, Seattle, for an awesome reception! Remember, rock on! You can find the Boys of Bedlam merchandise tables out in the hallway. Good night!”

Amid cheers and whistles, and cries for another encore, the guys exited the stage as security escorted the panty-less woman through the exit.

Ferris glanced at me. “That was a good set. I have a page of notes for the guys, but overall, not bad.”

I stared at her. “Not bad? I thought they were brilliant. They set the room on fire. Couldn’t you feel the energy of the audience? They were begging for more.”

Ferris arched her petite, exquisitely groomed brows. “I wouldn’t expect you to see the imperfections. It’s a professional thing. Just nuances, places where they could have made the audience cream themselves had they taken advantage of it.”

I gave her a long look. The heat they had set off in the club hadn’t touched her at all. She was still dewy fresh and polished. Then again, Ferris never looked ruffled. That was only one of a number of things that bothered me about her. She could have passed for one of the Winter Fae, she played the ice queen so well.

“True enough. Focusing on minor imperfections seems to be your job, doesn’t it?” Without skipping a beat, I was out of my chair and headed backstage.

***

The club was more than just a hole in the wall. The Vulture Underground actually had a dressing room, as well as a green room. Aegis had already changed into dark jeans and a V-neck sweater. The other band members were in the middle of shedding their stage clothes as well, but I didn’t blink an eye. Nakedness wasn’t an issue, at least not for me.

“Great job, guys. You brought the house down.” I slid into Aegis’s outstretched arm, nestling against him. His body was cool, even though he had been playing nonstop for two hours under stage lights. He never sweated. Vampires were always crispy cool, like cucumbers.

I had gotten used to it, though now and then I missed snuggling with somebody who generated actual body heat. But I produced enough for the both of us, given my proclivity with fire. If I got too cold, I just raised the temperature of the air around me by a couple of degrees. I couldn’t hold it for too long, but it was enough to keep me from freezing. If I happened to get lost in the snowy woods for days without the fuel to start a fire, I’d slip into hypothermia, but otherwise, I could take the edge off the chill enough to make myself comfortable.

“You think so?”Aegis gave me a quick kiss.

“I know so, regardless of what her majesty’s going to tell you.”

He sighed. My ongoing feud with Ferris both annoyed him and yet seemed to comfort him, most likely because I always took the band’s side against her.

“She had some issues with the gig?”

“Apparently, you didn’t make the audience cream themselves enough.” I zipped my lip as she walked through the door.

Ferris’s gaze bounced briefly onto Aegis, then flickered over Keth and Jorge, but lingered on Sid. I squinted, staring at her for a moment. There was a subtle shift in energy as she watched the bass player. That cold exterior slipped ever so slightly, to one of a tiger waiting to pounce. Could Miss Prissy Pants have a thing for Sid? If so, bad news, since he was married with five kids and Sylvia, a wife who adored him.

Aegis seemed to sense the shift too. He frowned and gave me an ever so subtle nudge, pressing against my side with his fingers. I gave him a curt nod. We had worked out our own form of silent communication, and it seemed to be growing stronger every day.

“I have some notes for you.” Ferris glanced at me, as though she expected me to interrupt.

Ignoring her, I yawned and wandered over to Aegis’s stage wear, folding the leather pants and tucking them into the duffle bag, along with the slinky shirt.

“Aegis, you’re stroking the audience but damn it, man, when a woman throws you her panties, acknowledge the offering. As long as they don’t belong to a blimp, or aren’t grandma panties, whirl them around your head or take a sniff. Just do something to show you appreciate the gift from her pussy.”

I froze. For one thing, none of the band members ever looked at their audience as meat. For another, her crudity made me wince.

Aegis cleared his throat. “The only underpants I’ll ever be likely to smell belong to Maddy. I’m not in the habit of flirting with my fans.”

“It’s all about flirting with your fans, and you’d better get used to it,” Ferris said, her mouth folding into a frown. “At least acknowledge the gift.” She turned to Jorge, the weretiger in the group. “You ever thought of shifting into your tiger shape on stage?”

He stared at her like she was crazy. “For one thing, I’d have to strip and I’m not showing my bits to the audience. For another… Just no. No, no.”

“You don’t have to get snotty. A simple, ‘No, Ferris, but thank you for the suggestion’ would do. I thought it might be fun. You could shift and go around the room, let people pet you—” She stopped as he let out a low growl. “All right, it seems my suggestions aren’t going over well tonight. Keth, you’re next. The horns—will they ever grow out? You ever thought of getting them extended?”

Keth was half-satyr. Satyrs were always male. When a satyr mated with a human, their sons were half-satyr, their daughters, full human. When satyrs mated with wood nymphs, their sons were full satyr and the daughters were full wood nymph. Keth’s mother had been human. As a result, the residual horns on his head would never grow longer. He was heavily tattooed with a Mohawk and had a trippy, freakster vibe to him. All the men in the band were gorgeous, though.

Keth finished pulling on his sweater. “Woman, you have a lot of balls asking that. Are your boobs ever going to grow? Have you thought of having implants?” Sweeping up his pea coat, he glanced at Aegis. “I’m going to warm up the bus. Come on, Jorge. Help me? The guys should have broken down our equipment and loaded it by now.”

The Boys of Bedlam had bought a used school bus, and they were now using it to haul the equipment to their gigs. They had found an artist who had done a film noir-ish painting of the band on the side.

Ferris let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t get your balls tied in a knot. DreamGen is doing its best to get behind you. We just need you to cooperate. You’re a great band, and we wouldn’t be backing you if we didn’t believe in you. But you have to meet us halfway. If you ever hope to be on the cover of Rolling Stone, you have to get with the program.” She shook her head. “Go ahead. Hey, Sid? Can you stick around for a moment? I want to talk to you. I have some detailed notes for you. The rest of you can leave.”

Sid looked uncomfortable. “All right, but we should hit the road soon or we won’t be home till dawn. Aegis has to get home.”

“You’ll make it in time.” She hustled the rest of us out of the green room.

I conveniently left my purse on the chair next to me as I exited the room. Jorge and Keth had already headed for the bus. I pulled Aegis off to one side, watching until they left.

“What the hell is going on with her and Sid?” I was friends with Sylvia. They had five kids and with the exception of a few glitches along the way, they were happy, in love, and all about their family.

“I don’t know,” Aegis said, glancing back at the door. “Sid hasn’t said much, but he wasn’t very enthusiastic about the gig tonight. That much, I do know. I wish I had an excuse to go back in there.”

“I don’t need one.” I strode over to the door before Aegis could stop me. As I opened it, I said loudly, “Forgot my purse.”

Sid was leaning back on the sofa, with Ferris looming over him. She had one knee on the cushion to his left, and looked about ready to straddle his lap. Her clipboard was on the table, and she had taken her hair down from the chignon she wore it in. He was holding up his hand as though he were trying to ward her off.

“I can’t—” Sid was in the middle of saying.

“Looks like I crashed an impromptu party,” I said. “I forgot my purse. Sid, we’re waiting in the bus, if you’re done here.”

He flashed me an incredibly grateful look. I was surprised. It wasn’t at all the look of someone angry I had interrupted. Sid shifted around Ferris so that he could stand up. Ferris, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to kill me.

“Here’s your purse, Maddy.” Sid grabbed my bag off the chair. “I’m ready. I’ll walk you out.” He glanced back at Ferris and his voice dropped into a mumble. “Thanks for the…notes.”

As I hustled him out the door, I whispered, “What the hell is going on?”

“Wait till we’re on the bus,” he whispered back. “But thank gods you came in when you did.”

Aegis was staring at the two of us, a perplexed look on his face. But he turned and followed us as we made a beeline for the bus. Jorge was driving—he was good with big vehicles—and we buckled ourselves into the cushioned seats the boys had retrofitted the bus with. Without another word, we pulled onto the street and Jorge pointed the bus north as we headed home to Bedlam.

***

I waited until we were underway, then swiveled around to look at Sid. “You have something you want to tell the band?”

“What’s going on?” Aegis asked.

“I think Jorge better find a parking lot because this is something you all need to address. Isn’t it, Sid?” I knew what was going on.

He blushed, but nodded. “Maddy’s right. Jorge, find us a place to park, please.”

Five minutes later, we turned into the parking lot of a Target store and parked near the end of a row. Nobody was out at this time in the morning, save for the homeless, the night owls, and whatever vampires might be roaming the streets. October in Seattle was blustery enough, but we were into a strong La Niña season, and the weather had shifted to extremely cold and wet. The sky was dark, not a star to be seen, and the clouds hanging thick and heavy, ready to burst at any moment.

I glanced out the window at the street running past the store. I didn’t miss living here. In fact, while Seattle was one of the best big cities I had lived in, I was far happier living in Bedlam. Too much congestion, too much traffic, too many sirens blaring along the dark, concrete streets.

“All right. Tell us what’s going on,” Aegis said.

Jorge joined us, but only after making certain the bus doors were locked. “Yeah, I want to get home before it’s morning and I know Aegis wants the same. So what’s up?”

The guys were all good friends, but after a gig, they were all a little wound up and snippy. But beneath all the snark and jostling around, they had forged a bond that was all but unbreakable. I just hoped Sid’s news wouldn’t shake it.

Sid blushed, staring at the floor. Finally, I decided to take the reins.

“I found Sid on the sofa. Ferris was coming onto him so hard I thought she was going to rip his clothes off. Sexual harassment, plain and simple. Isn’t that right, Sid?”

He blinked, then nodded, looking miserable. “I’ve tried to ignore it but she’s been getting more and more blatant. Tonight, well, that’s the farthest she’s gone. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come back for your purse, Maddy.”

“What would have happened is you would have told her to go fuck herself with a dildo if she’s so hard up.” I was angry. Sex was a wonderful thing, but not when it was coerced.

“Is this true?” Aegis asked Sid, the bewilderment on his face turning to understanding.

Sid nodded, still looking miserable. “Yeah, Ferris has been trying to…seduce isn’t even the right word. She’s been pushing me to fuck her for weeks now. Ever since we signed with DreamGen. I was hoping that she was a temporary rep and that they’d replace her, but when she told us last week that she’d be traveling with us on tour, I knew things were going to get ugly. She knows I love Sylvia, but she just keeps badgering me.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say anything, man?” Keth looked pissed. “She’s been a thorn in our sides ever since she started working with us. I can’t stand the bitch, to be honest.”

I knew why Sid hadn’t said anything. “Guys, he didn’t say anything because he saw this as your big chance and he didn’t want to muck up the works. Am I right?”

Sid nodded, staring at his feet. “We might never get another chance. Opportunities like this don’t come around very often. I didn’t want to screw things up by complaining.”

Aegis closed his eyes for a moment, looking pained. “You thought that you had to put up with her crap just for the band? Listen, nothing’s worth harassment like that. Nothing. Not the band. Not a gig. Not a record deal.”

Jorge cleared his throat. “Well, as long as we’re all being honest, I’ve missed just…being us. I mean, we were going to put out our own album, our own way, weren’t we? Now, we have to change our act to please DreamGen. We’re not a bunch of drunken idiots, but that’s what Ferris and DreamGen want us to be. I don’t know about you, but I liked the way we were. I’m not having fun anymore.”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” Aegis slumped back, his gaze flickering up to the guys. “Do you want to kill the contract? I think we can, but if we want to go back to being an indie group, we’d better do it now before they can claim we owe them a fuckton of money.”

Sid slowly raised his hand. “I think, if my marriage is to survive, I have to quit the band or quit working with DreamGen. If we complain to them about Ferris, you know they’ll laugh off my concerns.”

Keth shrugged, tossing his drumsticks on the floor. “We were doing fine before we signed with them. We’ll do just fine without them. I’m up for going back to being a garage band.”

Aegis straightened his shoulders. “All right, then. We’ll break the contract with DreamGen. But if we do, we do things our way from now on, because a bigger company would be even worse. I guess it’s hard to find a producer who isn’t out to screw over the band in one way or another, isn’t it?”

“Or, in Ferris’s case, just screw the band,” I said. “Seriously, guys, you have a sound that’s hard to match. You start slanting it the way she’s pushing you to, and you’re going to sound like a canned act. You’ve got a solid audience and you can build your way up doing things the way you want. And that doesn’t include encouraging groupies to throw their panties on stage or fucking your handler because she can make life miserable if you don’t.”

Sid paused. “Do you think they’ll try to sue us?”

Aegis grinned and shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out, now, isn’t there? We’ll look over the contract and figure out how to break it at our next meeting.”

And with that, Jorge returned to the driver’s seat, and we headed back to Bedlam.

***

Aegis and I hopped out of the bus and waved as Keth drove off toward his place. He lived with his mother and father on ten acres just outside of town. There was plenty of space to park the bus there.

I glanced at the sky. It was four-thirty and we still had almost three hours till sunrise. Aegis stretched, bringing his arm down to wrap around my shoulders. As we headed toward the kitchen slider, it occurred to me just how lucky we were.

The town of Bedlam was located on the island by the same name. Located off the northern edge of the San Juan Islands, Bedlam was overlooked by most humans. We didn’t exactly cloak the town, but rather, used some of the magical energy that permeated the area to keep ourselves from being noticed. The town had been founded by my kind—witches—and had a population of around six thousand permanent residents. A quirky, old-fashioned charm surrounded the area, and truly, it was beautiful here. The foliage was much like the rest of the west coast of Washington—with tall firs and wide, drooping cedar trees, and juniper and other evergreens that kept their needles year-round. Intermingled with the conifers were oak and maple trees of all varieties. Birch, black chestnut, and alder dappled the heavy forests, and the ever-present scent of moisture filled the air.

Bedlam experienced about sixty-five cloud-free days a year. The rest of the time the sky was partially or fully overcast, with a silvery sheen that soothed the heart and emotions. Rain was ever present, whether in drizzles or in downpours. We received more precipitation in terms of rain and snow than the rest of the San Juan Islands because the magical energy of the island and its inhabitants acted like a magnet for storms, drawing them in. So here, rain shadows were few, and we could always expect snow during winter and the gales of autumn to blow through.

A ferry ran from Bellingham over to Bedlam, docking once per hour most of the night. On weekends, it ran later, which was good for us or we would have had to find a vampire-safe hotel over on the mainland.

The Bewitching Bedlam—my bed-and-breakfast—was an old house. It had been built over two hundred years ago. We knew that because our house ghost, Franny, had been born here in 1791. She had died in 1815. I wasn’t sure how much older it was, but the foundation was solid, even though the weathering stone walls showed their age. The house had been abandoned when I found it, falling apart on the surface but with good bones. I had restored it to its original beauty on the outside, and had fully modernized the inside.

The Bewitching Bedlam had room for four guests, if I counted our private guestroom. The house had fifteen rooms, not counting the bathrooms, and was two stories, not including the basement and the attic.

As we unlocked the slider leading to the kitchen, I made sure Bubba and Luna weren’t poised to run out. Sometimes they would lie in wait, then pounce when I opened the door. Bubba was my massive red boy of a cjinn, and Luna was his girlfriend, a lovely calico who didn’t seem to mind that she was “dating” a magical creature.

But Bubba and Luna were nowhere to be seen. I flipped on the light, and Aegis immediately headed toward the fridge.

“You must be hungry. They didn’t have any food at the club. At least, nothing substantial.”

In addition to being one hunka hunka burning vamp, my boyfriend was also an excellent cook and baker. He loved mysteries and jigsaw puzzles, and had an intense fondness for kittens. When he found out I had taken in Luna, he had been delighted.

My stomach rumbled. “Actually, I am. I was going to just go to bed. It’s been one hell of a long day, but I don’t know if I can sleep if I don’t eat first. Leftovers are fine.”

He poked around. “There’s some chicken left from lunch yesterday. And some macaroni and cheese. That work?”

“Yeah.” I yawned again, my eyes heavy. “I’m so tired. Just nuke them.”

The chicken was from my favorite chicken joint—Chicken Chicken. It kept crisp after being reheated, and the breading was so good, just thinking about it made my mouth water. As Aegis fixed a plate for me and popped it in the microwave, I let out another yawn.

“So, what did you make of the way Ferris was acting toward Sid?”

“It pisses me off,” Aegis said. “Nobody harasses the people I care about. I don’t care whether you’re male or female, you don’t get a free pass to force yourself on anybody else.”

“Sylvia would freak if she knew. They’ve been working out some relationship issues and this wouldn’t help at all. I think we should keep quiet about it unless Sid decides to tell her. After all, you guys have decided to stop working with DreamGen.” I paused. “How do you really feel about it? I know you had a lot of hopes pinned on this.”

Aegis shrugged as he set my plate in front of me and handed me a fork. He slid into the chair next to me, a beer in his hands. Vampires could eat and drink all they wanted without ever being affected by the food, but blood was still their actual sustenance.

“Disappointed, I won’t lie about that. But I refuse to work with someone who pressures one of my boys to go against his wishes. Sid doesn’t even like Ferris. After the initial rush of signing the contract, he told me that she made him uncomfortable.”

“Ten to one, she was working on him even then.” I bit into the chicken and scooped up a forkful of mac ‘n cheese. The creamy, salty taste melted in my mouth and I let out an audible sigh, relaxing as the food slid down my throat. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I had been.

“You’re probably right. Well, I’ll talk to DreamGen after the guys and I go over the contract. Even if I have to pay a penalty to break it, that’s fine. I won’t ask the guys to chip in. I know none of them can afford it.” He watched me eat for a moment, then reached across the table. “I want to thank you. I wouldn’t have gone in there, and Sid would have been screwed over, in more ways than one. Thanks for recognizing a problem that I hadn’t put my finger on yet.”

I smiled and patted his hand, still eating. Once I finished, I carried my plate to the sink to rinse it off to put it in the dishwasher. Once I got to the counter, however, I paused. There was a sack sitting there. It hadn’t been there when we left in the morning. I opened it and froze. Inside, was an urn, with an envelope beside it. I opened the letter and read it, then set the paper down and backed up a step.

“What is it?” Aegis asked.

I couldn’t answer. I hadn’t thought this would affect me so much, but now that the time had actually come, my heart rose into my throat. Pressing my lips together, I turned toward Aegis, feeling a thousand years old.

“Maddy, what’s wrong?” Aegis took a step toward me.

I tried to answer, tried to form the words, but they didn’t want to come out. It was as though my lips were frozen and, no matter how much I wanted to say something, they wouldn’t move.

“What the…” Aegis paused by the counter and stared down at the urn. He slowly picked up the note. “May I?”

I gave him a faint nod. He picked up the paper and began to read aloud.

“Dear Ms. Gallowglass:

We wish to express our condolences in your time of sorrow. We have enclosed the urn with your mother’s ashes in it, as you requested, and you will also find a copy of her death certificate. We are the legal team representing your mother’s posthumous wishes. She asked that her remains be returned to you for dispersal, and that all her personal magical effects and family photographs and documents be sent to you. In accordance with her will, we will be packaging her magical supplies, photographs, and papers, and mailing them to you shortly. Everything else will be sold and the proceeds will be remitted to you after payment of any outstanding debts, according to her instructions. If there’s anything else we can do, please ask.

Sincerely,

Jessie Midas

Midas, Timmons, & Smith, Solicitors”

I stared at the stone urn as though it was going to jump up and bite me. Zara, my mother, had died a few weeks ago, and now she was home with me. I had spent a lifetime despising her, and only in the last months of her life had I come to understand—if not exactly love—her. We had parted as friends, as mother and daughter rather than antagonistic relatives. But seeing her remains on the counter brought home, once again, the realization that we had been robbed of nearly four centuries together, thanks to my grandmother and my father. My mother had been forced into living a lie most of her life. For that, I would never forgive them.

I reached out and slowly took the urn out of the sack as Aegis watched me, a cautious look on his face. Finally, I slid my fingers down the cool stone and over the name they had etched on it: Zara Malina Gallowglass. She had kept her mother’s family name, as had I even though I had been married for a time.

Trying to navigate the minefield of emotions that were waging war in my heart, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Welcome home, Mother.” And then, slowly, the tears began to fall.

“Maybe you should call her. Maybe she took a nap?” Angus McAllister crossed his right ankle over his left knee. At least this time, he didn’t treat us to an unexpected peep show. He was wearing a kilt—he always wore a kilt—and the last meeting, he had managed to expose us to the fact that yes indeed, men in kilts often did go commando. At least Angus did.

I started to mutter that Sandy didn’t take naps, but then stopped. It wouldn’t do anything to help the situation.

“I’ll give her a ring if she doesn’t answer in another five minutes.”

I tossed my notebook on the table and leaned back, chugging the last of my iced mocha. So much for getting through the meeting in good time. The Inner Council of the Moonrise Coven was supposed to deconstruct the Litha ritual that we had led for the town and discuss what had gone right, and where we had missed the mark. There were always glitches. My plan was to learn from every ritual we did, trying to minimize future screwups. But on Summer Solstice, we had really lost control. The magical Wishing Tree we had set up for the children of the town had gone amok. Five of us had ended up chasing a drunken unicorn through Turnwheel Park as it careened through the ritual staging area, tearing up the decorations and charging a group of werewolf tourists out for a stroll. In turn, the werewolves had been so startled they had shifted, shredding their clothes in the process, and Delia and her deputies had had to lock them in jail till they shifted back for everybody’s protection. It had cost the city money, and there was a good chance that Bedlam had been blistered on Yawp—the online supernatural review site.

“We’re going to have to discuss Litha at some point,” I said, wondering whether to start the meeting without her. But Sandy was one-fifth of the Inner Council. We needed her input.

“We wouldn’t have so much to discuss if you hadn’t had the bright idea to go scare up Sean O’Donnell to help us.” Tristan flashed an irate glare at Terrance.

Terrance rolled his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you that I had no clue Sean O’Donnell would be drunk off his ass?”

Sean O’Donnell was the local leprechaun Terrance had “volunteered” to enchant the Wishing Tree for us. I had been surprised that he was so helpful, though now I suspected it was because he was constantly liquored up. But I hadn’t known about his problem with booze when I agreed with Terrance’s idea that Sean would be the perfect candidate.

“You should have known because Sean’s always in the Boil & Squeak, chugging down ale.” Tanith shook her head. “Really, talk about a Darwin Award situation.”

Terrance gave her the finger. “I don’t happen to frequent bars, especially the Boil & Squeak. If I had known he’s a regular there, I would never have suggested him.”

“Children, children, enough!” I tried to smooth things over. “Now we know. Asking the local leprechaun for help? Not such a good idea. At least nobody was hurt.”

“Thanks to Auntie Tautau.” Tanith fell silent again.

As High Priestess of the coven, even though I had only assumed the leadership six months before, all the responsibility and blame fell on my shoulders. I knew how to lead smaller groups—I was extraordinarily good at it. But large groups of people, hundreds at one time? I was still finding my way. Sometimes, even the best-laid plans ended up in a heap on the floor.

The warmth of the day filtered through the building and I thought maybe it would be a good idea to consider air conditioning. At least a couple room-sized units for our main meeting room and our practice area. Today, the temperature had reached eighty-five—unseasonably high—and thanks to the humidity, it was sweltering.

Tanith blew a strand of bubble-gum pink hair off her forehead. “Can we start without Sandy? I’d like to get home before the babysitter eats me out of house and home.” Her hair color suited her, even though I personally detested pale pink. Tanith was tanned and lean. She lived for jogging and sunbathing and all those other activities that made me want to run the other way, but she was an accomplished witch and—usually—friendly enough.

“I know we’re all hot and frustrated, but I’d rather not. I want everybody’s input on how to handle the autumn equinox, especially in light of the Sean incident. Thank the gods we don’t have to lead the cross-quarter holidays. The quarter days are enough to make me tear my hair out.” I rolled my eyes, and the others laughed, even Tanith.

Besides Tanith, Tristan, Angus and Terrance, the Inner Council consisted of me and my best friend, Sandy Clauson, who was noticeably late and not answering her texts. Finally, I caved and called her. Her phone rang once. Twice. Three times. On the fifth, it switched over to voice mail.

“Where are you? Did you forget? You making time in the sheets with Max? Call me.” Frustrated, I ended the call. “I don’t know where she is. Maybe she just forgot and is out on a date or something.” I tossed my phone on the cushion beside me.

We were meeting in the Temple Arianrhod, a three-story brick building that had once been a private schoolhouse. It had belonged to a Fam-trad, a family-oriented tradition, who were very peculiar in their beliefs.  They had brought their children up fully in their own beliefs, including their general education, much like homeschooling. The Fam-trad had been an obscure one, and had died out with the last of the family. After that, the Moonrise Coven bought the schoolhouse at an estate sale, along with the five acres it sat on.

Over the decades, we had transformed the schoolhouse into the Temple Arianrhod and the acreage into a lush woodland, including a private grove and a fire pit reserved for our coven. We rented out one meadow to the public for rituals, although the townwide celebrations took place in Turnwheel Park downtown, and the temple had a large auditorium where we often held community meetings. One of our coven members, Jonquil Adams, lived in the temple as the caretaker. We let her live in the temple rent free in exchange for keeping it clean and to watch over the building.

“So, I suppose we should plan to meet another night.” My suggestion met with an irritated groan from Tanith, and steady stares from Angus and Terrance. But I was the High Priestess. They could complain all they liked, but they’d come through in the end.

“All right, what date?” Tanith pulled out her phone, frowning at her schedule.

I opened my day planner. I preferred paper to my phone when it came to appointments. I’d missed too many meetings because I entered the information wrong. It was just easier to write it down. But this week was booked solid.

“You know what? I’ll get in touch with Sandy and find out why she couldn’t make it, then I’ll cc an email to everybody with a choice of dates. That work for you guys? All right, then we’re good. Let’s head out.”

I gathered my notebook and planner and shoved them into my tote bag. As I stuck my phone in the pocket of my sundress, Tanith scrambled out the door with barely a “good-bye” over her shoulder. Terrance followed her, more slowly. Angus, however, hung back to help me as I began to straighten up. I always tossed our used coffee cups and napkins, and wiped crumbs off the table. I didn’t like to leave a mess for Jonquil.

Angus carried the empty cookie plate over to a small sink in the corner and washed it off, drying it with the crisp white tea towel that hung over a rack on the wall. He placed the plate in the cupboard above the sink as I began to turn the chairs upside down on the table so Jonquil could vacuum.

“So how are you enjoying leading the coven?” he asked.

I paused, my hands on the back of a chair. “To be honest? I enjoy it, but it’s overwhelming at times. I don’t know how Linda kept track of everything. I worry that I’m not doing a good job. I know I’m more than capable on a magical level, but the administration I’m not so keen on.”

“I think any position of leadership is going to have issues in that regard.” He hesitated for a moment, and I could tell he was debating whether to say something.

“What is it?” I preferred it when people were straight up with me. It made life simpler, if at times a little uncomfortable.

“I just wanted to say, I think you’re doing a pretty good job. The coven is facing growing pains. Any transition in power is bound to bring a period of adjustment. Some of the coven members might be a little testy because they were close to Linda. They don’t blame you, but the whole situation was odd. I wouldn’t worry if I were you.” He smoothed the skirt of his kilt.

I flashed him a smile. “Thanks. You’re talking about Tanith, aren’t you? I knew she and Linda were friends, but I didn’t think the transition would be this difficult for her. I would have chosen someone else to take my old seat for the Inner Council if I had known. Thing is, Tanith always seemed to like me, so I wasn’t expecting her to brush me off.”

When Rose Williams, a member of the coven, had been murdered in my garden and, during the subsequent investigation, the High Priestess had vanished, the coven leadership had passed to me. I knew Linda had entered the Witches’ Protection Program, but I couldn’t tell anybody. And even though I had been one of the founding members of the coven, it didn’t mean that I kept up to date on every coven member’s life. But Tanith and I had always gotten along, so I wasn’t expecting trouble.

However, for the past few months—ever since our Ostara ritual in March—she had become distant and moody, arguing with me during meetings.

“I suppose I need to have a talk with her. I can’t let resentment fester.”

Again, Angus looked slightly uncomfortable. “I think she’s having problems at home. Her husband isn’t doing much to help out with the kid, and she not only has to work a day job, but she has to come home and take care of the house and their child. I think she’s just overwhelmed with responsibilities.”

Tanith had married a human, and they had a two-year-old. I didn’t know much about her private life, but that could explain a lot.

I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll walk softly, but she needs to talk to me. I suppose that’s part of my job now. I haven’t really been paying much attention to anything outside the rituals and trying to sort out the books. Linda left the coven files in a bit of a mess and it’s all because…”

I paused, not able to say too much. There were certain things the coven was better off not knowing about. And the fact that Linda’s files were a mess because she had been in collusion with Essie Vanderbilt, the queen of the Pacific Northwest Vampire Nation, was one of them. Regardless of the reason—and it had been a good one—Linda had sold the coven short.

Angus frowned and stroked his red beard. It reached the top button of his shirt. “I know there’s more to it than you can tell me, but what I know is probably just enough to be dangerous. I’m just going to put this out there: if Essie Vanderbilt gets her hooks in the coven, I’m quitting.”

I held his gaze. “I promise, she won’t, not if I can stop her. I have my reasons for keeping in the loop with Essie, but you’re right about one thing. You are better off not knowing.” I glanced around. “All right, we’re done. Let’s head out. I’ll see you at our next meeting.” I glanced at my phone again. Still no message from Sandy.

I locked the door behind us, and he walked me out to my car.

“Night, Maddy. And…thanks.” Angus hopped on his motorcycle and gave me a wave.

I waved back, then slid into my CR-V. I paused, texting Sandy again, but to no avail. Where the hell could she be? Maybe she had lost her phone, or broke it, and couldn’t answer. Comforting myself with that thought, I eased out of the parking lot.

***

Dusk was falling on Bedlam, the sky tinged with streaks of grays and blues as it faded into the indigo of the approaching night. June was usually a mild month, with temperatures into the upper sixties and a drizzle of rain now and then, but we were in the middle of a heat wave. The flowers and trees were in full swing, and the air smelled clean, saltwater fresh from the surrounding ocean that flowed in through the straits.

The city of Bedlam spread across the entire island—which was also named Bedlam.

A small island located in the San Juans off the coast of Washington state, Bedlam was near Lopez and Orcas islands, in the Haro Strait. Bedlam’s climate was anomalous to the rest of the nearby islands, due to two factors. One, it was farther north than the rest and was therefore at the perfect angle to receive the brunt of the storms that whistled through the straits. The second reason was that the magical power of the land attracted storms like a magnet. Bedlam’s aura might as well reach out to pluck the clouds and rain and snow out of the atmosphere. We received more snow and rain than the surrounding islands, and our springs were milder, if drizzly, and summer was sun-baked during July and August.

There were about six thousand people living in Bedlam, and most of us were Otherkin—members of the Pretcom, the supernatural community. The town had a quirky old-world charm to it, and the houses were a blend of Victorians, ramblers, and gingerbread cottages. Most people kept their homes in good shape. There were a few abandoned buildings littering the island, but mostly, the oldest buildings were very old, having been brought over piece by piece from other countries and rebuilt in Bedlam, and they were still being used.

I eased onto Rosewood Road, which encircled the island. I thought about going home, but Aegis was out of town on a gig so I decided to stop in town for dinner. The guests at my B&B—the Bewitching Bedlam—were well taken care of by Kelson Farsight, my new housekeeper and general receptionist. She was a whirlwind of activity, a werewolf on a mission, so to speak. She loved keeping busy. Not only did she keep the house spotless, she also made the guests feel right at home. I did my best, but I had to admit that Kelson could run rings around me. I made sure she was paid well because I really didn’t want to lose her.

I thought about going to the Blue Jinn, but I didn’t feel like a sit-down meal. While I had been working out regularly, and eating better the past few months, I knew I would never lose my love of fried foods, and right now, I was in the mood for fish and chips.

I eased into the parking lot of the Clam Shack. As I leaned against the takeout window of the combo food truck/takeout joint, it occurred to me that in a few days, I’d be able to drop in at Sandy’s new venture. She was opening a small oyster bar down on the shore, on a stretch of beach called the Strand.

I ordered fried halibut and chips and a cup of clam chowder, then drove down the street to Eygar’s Park, a small park with picnic tables that was directly on the shore. After finding a table and setting out my dinner, I pulled out my phone. Time to try Sandy again.

Again, no answer. Where the hell could she be? I was starting to get worried. I wondered if I should call Max. She might be over at his place. Finally, in between bites of the fish and sips of the chowder, I called him. This time, I got an answer.

“Maddy? What’s shaking?” The weretiger didn’t sound worried, which gave me a momentary relief. He and Sandy were quite the item and things were really heating up between them.

“Listen, Max, I’ve been trying to reach Sandy all evening. She was supposed to be at a coven meeting tonight, and she didn’t show. I’ve been texting her and calling her, but she hasn’t answered. Is she at your place, by chance?”

A breeze sprang up, wafting the scent of roses past me. Floral and spicy, they smelled like some exotic perfume. I inhaled deeply, wondering where the bushes were. Whatever variety they were, I wanted some for my garden. I wanted to make essential oil from them.

“That’s odd,” Max said. “When I asked her to dinner tonight, she said she couldn’t make it because she had a coven meeting. So I know she was planning on attending.”

“I wonder if there was some emergency with Jenna.” Jenna was Sandy’s ward, attending the Neverfall Academy for Gifted Students, which was on the northeastern side of Bedlam. It was up the coast a ways, on a campus that overlooked the water.

“Huh,” Max said. “Tell you what. I’ll call her and then call you back,”

“Don’t worry the girl, though. Sandy could have just lost her phone.”

“I won’t. I’ll ring you right back.”

After he hung up, I polished off my chowder, staring out at the water. Bedlam was a far cry from Seattle, where I lived for a number of years. While I had come here for coven meetings since the 1950s, I had only moved over to the island nine months before, on a drunken whim. So much had changed since then. I had met Aegis, my vampire boyfriend, I had opened the Bewitching Bedlam bed-and-breakfast, and I had settled into a life where I was comfortable and happy. But there were shadows brewing, and I had lived long enough to know that nothing was ever perfect. And that joy was always intermingled with sorrow.

***

My name is Maudlin Gallowglass, Maddy for short. Among my nicknames, though, is the one I’m most famous for: Mad Maudlin. And that name, perhaps, represents my essential self. I was born on October 28, 1629, in Ireland, and spent much of my early life traveling between Ireland and England.

Long ago and far away, I was in love with Tom—Tom of Bedlam, as he was called. A different country, a different Bedlam. He was also a witch, and we roamed the countryside, staying a hop and a step ahead of the witch hunters. We posed as minstrels, or rather, my sweet Tom did. He wrote a song that’s now a famous folk song. “Mad Tom of Bedlam,” or as it’s often called, “The Boys of Bedlam,” was about our life, and the “Mad Maudlin” in the song refers to me.

As I said, we journeyed through the countryside, casting our spells and making music and having fun. Tom I met through one of my best friends, Fata Morgana, who now runs with the wild ocean. I found Bubba in 1687, as a kitjin—a baby cjinn—and he traveled with us. Sandy joined us in 1699. We made quite a crew, and we were well known across the lands. Luckily, there was no such thing as the internet then, or GPS, and we were able to evade the Inquisition and their tortures.

But in 1720, Tom and I encountered a group of vampires. Tom summoned a Faerie warrior who saved Bubba and me, dragging us into a barrow mound. But the vampires caught hold of Tom, and they turned him. And my sweet love was no more, lost forever to the night.

When I emerged from the Faerie mound in 1740 and found out what had happened, Mad Maudlin took over, and I ran wild. I took up hunting vampires, and together with Fata Morgana and Sandy, we stalked and staked them—as many as we could. The world became a river of blood as I sought revenge for my Tom.

Until one night we stood on a hill above a village of the creatures, and I rained fire down from the heavens to destroy every vampire in the village. That night, something snapped, and we walked away and threw ourselves into a wild, raucous life for decades. And then…sanity returned. Fata returned to the waves, and Sandy and I left for other places, and other ventures.

Now, I’m here. And I’m in love with a vampire—yes, I recognize the irony. Bubba’s still by my side, and Sandy and I are best friends. As for Fata…who knows where the waves took her? But I’m content. The world is a different place, and life evolves. And I’m happy.

***

Max called back a few minutes later. I had just finished the last piece of fish and my fingers were greasy, so I grabbed a napkin and used a voice command to answer the phone.

“Hey, Max. Did you find her?”

His voice shaking, Max said, “Yeah. Jenna hadn’t heard from her, but just as I was getting off the phone, a call came in from Delia.”

Delia Waters was Bedlam’s sheriff and mayor. She was also a werewolf, and had become a good friend over the past few months. In fact, my new housekeeper, Kelson, was Delia’s cousin.

“What’s wrong? I can hear it in your voice. What happened?”

Max took a deep breath. “I’m headed to Straitwater Hospital. Sandy was sideswiped earlier in the grocery store parking lot. She’s just regained consciousness. She’s alive, but she’s pretty shaken up—that’s all I know.”

“I’ll meet you there.” I hung up and jammed my phone in my pocket. Damn it, here I’d been ticked off at her for not answering and she had been lying hurt in the street. Feeling seven shades of guilt, I headed to my car, dumping the remains of my dinner in the garbage can.

We had decided to celebrate the upcoming holiday by getting a jump start on spring. Since we were nearing Ostara—the spring equinox—we decided on a tart, bright flavor to fit the bill. The blender was full of a mixture of lemon sorbet, spiced rum, limeade, and a little grenadine. The drink was surprisingly nifty, especially after the third round.

“Trina and her boyfriend are selkies, you know. He got a job out on the peninsula near Port Townsend, so he was moving to a new pod. If Trina continued to work here, that would put a damper on their relationship. I get it, but damn it. She was a pretty spiffy worker.” I tossed back the last of my drink and held my glass out for a fourth round.

Sandy poured out the last of the drinks and held up the empty blender. “Another batch?”

I shrugged. “You know, we really should have something to eat. I forgot lunch and I doubt if I’m going to be in any shape to make dinner.”

“When are you ever in shape to make dinner? You’re lucky Aegis is a good cook.” She snorted, peeling herself out of her chair. “Do you have any potato chips? With all the lime in these drinks, it feels like we should have some salt to go with it.”

“You’re thinking of margaritas. Yeah, in the cupboard.” I started to hum the “Coconut” song as she foraged for goodies. Sandy and I had a high tolerance for mind-altering substances. After all, we had three hundred years of practice at being party girls. But I knew I wasn’t going to find my answer to the cleaning problem at the bottom of a blender.

I let out a sigh. “Well, the ad just came out today so hopefully, I’ll get some sort of response.” I paused. “Now, if I could just take care of that damned Ralph Greyhoof. You know, he actually egged my front door the other morning when he was drunk off his ass? Took my holeos an hour to wash it off.”

“He’s an idiot. He won’t let go of the feud, will he?”

“No, and I was willing to let the past go.” Ralph Greyhoof and I had come to a temporary truce for a while but that was shot to hell. One of the Greyhoof boys—they were a band of satyrs—he owned the Heart’s Desire Inn, or should I say brothel. And he was always accusing me of trying to steal his business.

“No,” I said, giving her an evil grin. “But this morning I left him a little surprise. I found a glo-wing and thought maybe Ralph needed a pet, so I left it just inside his door.”

Glo-wings were gorgeous little caterpillars that happened to multiply like crazy. As their name suggested, they glowed non-stop. They didn’t destroy anything except plants, but they spread like crazy, and required a massive amount of elbow grease to remove. You had to remove them all, because just one could repopulate the entire species. Later in the year, they went into stasis, then burst forth as beautiful autumn moths, but when they were in their caterpillar stage, they were nothing but nuisances.

“Oh man, you’re just escalating matters.”

“Too bad. He started it and I’m tired of his horny face.” I raised my glass. “Here’s to payback.”

“I’d be cautious if I were you,” Sandy said, sipping her drink.

“M’rrow.” Bubba wandered in, swishing his tail. He had a feisty look in his eye, one that only led to trouble. As the gorgeous, massive orange tabby leaped up on the table to stare me in the face, I reached out, singing as I gave him an ear rub. He began to purr and I swept him into my arms, dancing with him.

“You want some catnip, Bub?”

Bubba liked to party as much as we did. I found his stash and sprinkled some on the cat bed sitting near the kitchen door that led to the backyard. He bounced down and began to purr, rolling on the green fleece.

Sandy gave him a long look. “He’s been awfully good lately. You think he’s up to something?”

“I never know what’s going on in that furry brain of his,” I said. “Cjinns are always cunning. They pride themselves on it. But he’s saved my ass more than once, so if he acts out now and then or wants to get stoned, I say go for it.” I tossed him a squeaky mouse and he rolled over, raking it with his back claws in a nip-induced frenzy.

“All the same, I wouldn’t touch his belly if I were you. Not with as much as we’ve been drinking. You’d end up with Alice from The Brady Bunch working for you.” Sandy handed me a bowl that she’d filled with potato chips, along with a tray of lemon bars. “A little sugar wouldn’t hurt us either.”

“Aegis made those for our guests. But what the hell, they’ll never miss them.” I glanced at the clock. Five p.m. “I never thought I’d wish away time, but with the waxing year, he has to sleep later and later. That, I don’t like.”

“How long till sunset?” Sandy peeked out the sliding-glass door.

“About seventy minutes, give or take a few.”

Vampires were bound to sleep during the day. At least most of them. I’d recently had an eye-opening experience that almost landed me dead, but had also netted us some pretty powerful information about a secret society of Aegis’s kind. Even he hadn’t been fully aware of it, but we were keeping our mouths shut because the ramifications were huge and we really didn’t want to set ourselves up as targets.

I was about to dive into the lemon bars when my cell phone rang. Or rather trumpeted. I grimaced. I had recently bought a new phone and hadn’t bothered to set new ring tones yet.

“I don’t recognize the number.”

“Maybe it’s somebody answering your ad.”

“That would be wonderful. Hold on while I take this.”

Sandy nodded, pulling out her own phone to check her texts while I took the call.

“Maudlin Gallowglass here.”

“Ms. Gallowglass? I’m Thornton Weston, calling about your ad in the Bedlam Crier. I’d like to apply, if the position’s still open.”

I blinked. I had no problem with a man applying, but apparently, my subconscious had been expecting a woman because his voice threw me off guard. It was deep and rich, and made me think of smooth, black coffee with just a hint of sugar.

“Why…well, of course you can. The job’s still open. Can you come by for an interview at ten tomorrow morning?” I thought about setting up the interview for evening, when Aegis was awake, but the last thing I needed was him chasing off a potential employee just because he was male. While Aegis was all kittens and cupcakes when he was in his domestic mood, my vampire boyfriend had a protective streak a mile wide, and it reared its green-eyed head at the most inopportune times. I needed a housekeeper now, not in two weeks after we had worked through his “But it’s a man, will you be safe” rhetoric.

“I’ll be there at ten, resume in hand.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.” With that, I hung up and Sandy and I went back to our impromptu pre-spring party.

***

“I don’t care what you say, you’re not going to hire him until I get to meet him. You just call him back and change the appointment for when I’m awake.” Aegis tried to stare me down, but I was having none of it. Besides, he might have been imposing, except for the fact that he was wearing my kittens-and-bows apron over his black leather pants and holding a copper mixing bowl in one hand, and a wire whisk in the other.

“If I think he can do a good job, you damned well bet your pearly fangs I’m going to hire him. Why don’t you just use the mixer for that?” All of the yummy afterglow of the booze had fled my system. I was perched on the counter near Aegis, and I reached out with one foot to lightly tap his ass.

He gave me one of his “Are you kidding?” looks.

“You really know nothing about cooking, do you?” He quirked his lips into a slightly snarky grin.

I stuck out my tongue at him. “I know how to fry an egg. Beyond that, I know the names of my best friends—Chef Pizza-Joint, Chef Chicken-Chicken, and Chef-in-a-Can. Now tell me why you’re using a whisk for those egg whites.”

He shook his head, still whisking away. The egg whites were whipping up into a nice foam. “You’re incorrigible. It just so happens that egg whites are best whipped by hand in a copper bowl. It’s faster than using a mixer and you get better results. So if you really want lemon meringue pie for the guests tomorrow, you’ll quit back-seat baking and let me do my job.”

“Yes, sir,” I said meekly.

“And don’t you and Sandy go eating it all before we have a chance to offer it to the paying customers. I can’t just whip another one up in the middle of the day, you know.” He paused, leaning against the counter next to me. “Did the two of you really eat the entire pan of lemon bars I made? I’m glad you liked them, but it’s a wonder you both aren’t puking your guts out.”

“We have a high tolerance for booze and sugar, built up through centuries of practice.” I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t guilt trip me about my love for food and drink.”

“I won’t, if you quit complaining about the fact that I want to make sure you’re safe,” he shot back.

I rolled my eyes. “We have strange men in the house anyway. That’s what it means to own a bed-and-breakfast. Don’t forget, we take in strangers and give them a place to sleep. Maybe kindly old Mr. Mosswood is a serial killer.”

Aegis laughed, setting the bowl down. “Oh, Maddy, I love you. You crack me up. If Mr. Mosswood is a serial killer, then I can walk out into the sun and just get a nice tan.”

Mr. Mosswood was rapidly becoming a long-term guest. He had checked in three weeks ago, and kept extending his stay. He was slight, about five-seven and thin as a reed, and he was quiet and polite to the point of annoying. He wore a suit and hat that reminded me of something out of the 1950s—and I had lived through the fifties, so I knew they were genuine vintage.

Mr. Mosswood had thinning hair and wore round glasses. I thought of them as spectacles, because he seemed to be stuck in a time period long past. He was human, and he said he was gathering information for a book he wanted to write about the history of Bedlam. He paid on time, tipped well, and was a tidy man, so I welcomed him as long as he wanted to stay.

“Don’t you dare. Seriously, though, you never really know. Some of the worst killers have been the quietest. I’m sure Mr. Mosswood is thoroughly benign, but we know nothing of his background.” I leaned forward. “But he proves my point. He’s staying here, and he’s up and around while you’re sleeping. If he were a murderer, you wouldn’t be able to save me during the day. So why worry when I interview someone for a housecleaning job?”

Aegis pressed his lips together, regarding me as though I was an annoying gnat, and I knew I had won the argument. Finally, he plastered a kiss on my forehead, then bopped my nose with his finger. He smelled like musk and cinnamon, like dark knights on an autumn evening. My knees quivered as I stroked a long strand of his wavy jet black hair back from his face. His eyes were pools of coffee, tinged with crimson around the edges, and he was strong and fit, with a voice that made me melt.

“You know, you should finish making that pie, before the egg whites go flat,” I murmured.

“I don’t care about the egg whites,” he whispered, gathering me into his arms.

I squirmed, feeling him press hard against me. The egg whites might be going flat but something else wasn’t. But I didn’t complain as he carried me up the stairs, ending the conversation with a long, sweaty session in bed.

***

The next morning, I slid into my new jeans—black stretch denim with a lot of give to accommodate the padding of my butt, which was, as I liked to call it, curvalicious. I pulled on a short-sleeved V-neck silk shirt with cap sleeves. The deep green set off the teal of my eyes, and the rich brunette of my hair. I also had big boobs, which was fine with me. In fact, I was about as hourglass as they came, in terms of my figure.

I scooched my feet into a pair of black leather ballerina flats—I was about five-eight so I could do flats without feeling short—and fastened my pentacle around my neck, along with a rope of moonstone beads. The pentacle was about two inches in diameter and stood out against my shirt. I fastened on freshwater pearl chandelier earrings, then took a few minutes to slap on a quick ten-minute face at my vanity.

Bubba was next to my makeup mirror, watching. He cocked his head as I pursed my lips to apply my lipstick—a bright fuchsia. I hated any pinks that weren’t magenta or fuchsia, but neon colors and jewel tones rocked my world.

“Mrow.” Bubba reached out one paw to tap my arm.

I paused, trying not to jog the lipstick onto my face. “Bubs, hold on. I’ll feed you in a minute. I’m almost done.”

Bubba waited a beat until I raised the lipstick to my lips again, then—more firmly—smacked me on the hand with his paw.

“Bubba! Look at what you did!” I frowned at my reflection. A bright pink line of lipstick ran jaggedly down my chin. “Gee thanks, Bub.”

As I reached for the makeup remover, I swear, Bubba snickered at me. He pulled his paw back, then began to groom it as though he had no clue what I was talking about.

“That cat is a menace.” Franny rose up beside me. As in, through the floor, to hover a foot above it.

I jumped. “I told you to stop doing that! And Bubba’s not just a cat. He’s a cjinn.”

Franny was the house ghost—or B&B ghost, now that I’d converted the place. And she was moody as all get out, always finding something to bellyache about. But over the past six months, I had actually gotten used to the depressed spirit and she had lightened up a little.

I poured a little makeup remover on a cotton ball and wiped the lipstick off my face. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of days. Where have you been keeping yourself? You can’t leave the house, so I know you weren’t on vacation.”

She shrugged. She was dressed in the dress she had died in—a sky blue muslin gown à la Jane Austen, over which she wore an ivory corset and a matching lace shawl. She was pretty in a serious sort of way, with blue eyes and blond hair spilling out of a messy bun.

“Oh, this and that. I watched the gardeners plant the new roses from out of the library window. Thank you, by the way, for setting up the computer e-reader for me.” Franny flashed me a rare smile. “I just read a marvelous book by a Mr. Mark Twain. It’s called Tom Sawyer.”

I grinned. I had been around during Twain’s time, and figured she would like some of his work. “Glad you liked it.”

Franny loved to read. In fact, that was how she died. On a warm August day in 1815, Franny had been walking along the second-floor hallway, reading, and she missed the first step as she turned to go downstairs. She broke her neck in the fall and had been trapped here ever since. Franny had spent a long time alone until I had bought the old mansion. Those who could see her had run in fear until Aegis moved in. And he had pretty much ignored her. When I bought the house, I gave him hell for treating her like she didn’t exist.

Franny loved to read, and she missed it most of all. So I had set up a spare computer in the library. I kept the computer on constantly, and the e-reader program was always open. I had programmed it to voice control and since Franny could speak as clearly as I could, she could command it. I programmed in some basic commands—Turn Page, Go to Page, Open New Book, Close Book. Now she could read to her heart’s content. Every few weeks, we’d go through the online bookstore and add a few new books for her.

I finished with my lipstick and sat back. I was about as presentable as I was going to get for the morning. Bubba let out another squeak.

“Yeah, yeah, Bub. I’ll feed you. Franny, come on down to the kitchen if you like. I have someone coming at ten, but if you want to talk…” I left it open ended. Franny resented any trace of pity, for which I didn’t blame her, but she also liked to chat. Granted, she was angsty as hell, but I couldn’t help but feel that I should treat her as one of my permanent houseguests. You didn’t just ignore someone because she had a chip on her shoulder about being dead and stuck in a house.

She brightened. “All right. I can tell you what I found out about your guests—”

I stopped in the doorway, glancing at her. “What did I tell you about spying?”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, but can I help it if I happen to be around when they don’t know I’m watching?”

Shaking my head, I headed down the stairs, listening to her ramble on about Mr. Mosswood’s habit of rubbing his scalp with rose-scented lotion, and how Mrs. Periwinkle, a very old witch who seemed to have misplaced her marbles along with her late husband, had been trying to convince the grandfather clock to tell her where we kept the hidden treasure. What treasure she was talking about, I had no idea.

***

At ten o’clock, prompt to the second, Thornton Weston was sitting in my parlor. He was human and in his early thirties. He was also a fine-looking piece of man flesh. Five-ten, pale blond hair in a Euro shag, trim but not overly thin, with a wisp of a beard and deep blue eyes that sparkled when he said hello. He was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, but it was obvious he belonged in a leather blazer. I could easily see him driving some classy little number like a Jaguar or a Lotus. In fact, everything about him smelled like old money, so why was he applying for a housekeeping job?

“Are you sure you’re interested in this job? It’s not very glamorous. You’d be cleaning the mansion every day. You won’t be responsible for laundry, except for the sheets and blankets in the guest rooms. We have three rooms for paying customers, a personal guest room, and my bedroom. You’d be cleaning the guests’ rooms every day, the other two bedrooms once a week. We have six baths—they need to be cleaned daily. The kitchen gets cleaned every day, and it must be spotless due to health code regulations. You won’t need to cook, but you may be called upon to wait tables occasionally. There’s the daily dusting and tidying things up in the living room, library, parlor, and grand ballroom. I have someone to wash the floors once a week and windows once a month, so you don’t have to worry about those.”

As I paused, he shrugged. “I’ve had worse jobs. I’m not afraid of a little work.”

“We have a maid’s room on the main floor, which would be your living quarters, and a butler’s pantry. You’ll eat in there. Room and board are included in your salary. I take care of Bubba’s litter box. Oh, and whatever you do, please don’t pet his belly.” I didn’t want to tell him that Bubba was a cjinn until I knew him better. There were people who weren’t above trying to steal the creatures for their own use.

Pausing, I let the information settle. “So, are you interested?”

“Definitely. What are the official hours?”

Surprised, I said, “The job is full time, but since I won’t ask you to be on call 24/7 unless there’s an emergency, you’ll have Tuesdays and Wednesdays free. They’re our least busy days. We ask longer-term guests to waive daily cleaning for a reduced rate, so you only have to clean their rooms twice a week. Right now, we have two of them, actually.”

“The job sounds good to me, especially the live-in part. I’m between apartments right now.” He flashed me an easy grin.

I glanced down at the resume again. He had worked in a number of hotels in housekeeping, as a bellhop, and desk clerk, but his employment history was sketchy, especially for the past five years.

“Why the gap in work the past few years?”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say I’ve been in an abusive relationship and I finally got out after a bad breakup. I had to leave quickly. All I own are in a couple of suitcases, and I have nowhere to go. I happened to see your ad in the Crier yesterday and thought this would be perfect with my background.”

As someone who had spent too many years in a bad marriage, I knew how easy it was to get suckered into a relationship that tangled you in knots.

“Well, I have your number. Let me run your references and see what they have to say. I’ll call you by tomorrow.” I shook his hand and walked him to the door. As we passed through the living room, Franny popped out, took one look at him, and vanished.

He paused, letting out a short laugh. “Let me guess. House ghost?”

“Right. She’s disruptive at times, but overall she’s a good egg. We’ve adopted her.” I shook my head. “Sometimes it’s just easier to play the hand you’ve been dealt. She came with the property and so she’s part of the B&B.”

“The ‘we’ you refer to… You and… Are you married?” He glanced around as though he expected to see someone else magically pop into view.

It was my turn to laugh. “Not anymore, but my new boyfriend helps me run the place. I should tell you, just in case you have issues with the idea. I’m involved with a vampire. His name is Aegis and he’s the lead singer of the Boys of Bedlam, an up-and-coming band. You might have heard them down at the Utopia nightclub.”

Thornton stiffened. “Aegis? The rock star vampire?”

“That would be him. But he has a heart of gold. Loves kittens and cupcakes. He bakes most of the goodies for our guests.” When I had first encountered Aegis, in addition to his gorgeous bad-boy self, I had come face to face with his private passions—kittens, jigsaw puzzles, baking, and reading mysteries. He loved Murder She Wrote. We watched a lot of re-runs.

Thornton thought for a moment. “I guess it could be worse,” he said, reaching for the door. “I’ll wait for your call.”

As I walked him down the porch steps, I found myself hoping his references would check out. Not only did he have experience, but he seemed personable and he could probably charm the pants off my guests. But then, as I turned to go inside, a large crow appeared on the porch railing and began to caw.

I started to ask it what it wanted, but a shiver raced up my spine as clouds began to sock in, covering the pale blue sky. Within less than sixty seconds, lightning flashed, thunder roared, and I was soaked to the skin as the storm opened up. The crow let out a single echoing caw and flew away. Chilled to the bone, I turned and ran inside, wondering why I was suddenly frightened.

In addition, my ex still had a nasty habit of coming around to try to spy on me. He couldn’t give up that nasty control streak and I was ready to bust his head, too. It was only through great restraint that I hadn’t cast a hex on him. A few focused words and a flick of my hand and I knew I could get him fired. Or better yet, wither up his dick. Preferably while it was inside one of his many girlfriends he had cheated on me with.

“What the hell should I do? I can sell this place, but I haven’t the faintest idea of where I want to go. I feel at all sorts of loose ends right now.” I glanced over at Sandy, my partner in crime. Or at least, magic and partying. We were coven-mates, and right now we were brewing up our fourth batch of margaritas. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to debate serious questions when we were half-drunk, but then again, I’ve never actually been accused of being wise.

Smart? Sure. Wise? Not so much.

“Maudlin, you’re just smart enough to get yourself in trouble, and not wise enough to see why you shouldn’t,” my mother always told me. I would have taken offense but from the get-go, I knew she was right.

Sandy snorted. “Why don’t you rub Bubba’s belly and make a wish?”

I paused in my margarita-making venture. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“I know, but hey…you’re drunk. I’m drunk. Bubba loves you too much to take advantage of you in this state.”

“Well, he does love me.”

What Sandy said made a certain amount of sense, at least through my alcohol-washed brain. Bubba was my friend. Next to Sandy, he was my best buddy. He loved me and I loved him. She was right—he wouldn’t take advantage of me, not when I was three sheets to the wind.

“Why not give it a try?” I leaned over the cat, who had already flopped on his back, exposing his massive fluffball of a stomach. “Oh, Bubba. Be sweet to me.” I tickled his belly. “Help me shake off the dust I’ve acc…acc…” I paused, trying to remember the word. Finally I finished with, “I’ve managed to drown in over the years. I need to feel like myself again. Give me adventure. Romance. Something…different.”

Bubba let out a purp and a spark raced over my fingertips as I rubbed his fur. I closed my eyes, laughing as the sparkles tickled my skin. But they abruptly stopped and—apparently bored—Bubba raced off into the other room.

I went back to making drinks. “I think he took pity on me and ignored my request.”

“You’re better off. Dunno why you thought that was a good idea. I’d never ask him for anything.” Sandy was glued to the computer screen.

“What? Girl, you’re the one who told me to do it.”

“And you listened to me? I’m drunk. Never listen to a drunken witch. Hey—what about this?”

Sandy forced herself to sit up straight. She was slumped over her laptop, staring at the screen. We had been watching videos of a group of half-naked dancers—Australian men hot enough to burn tongues if we’d been close enough to give them a lick. But now, she had apparently navigated away to what looked like a click-bait site. Seattle’s scariest houses or something of that sort.

“What about what, and do you want another drink?”

“That’s a stupid question, and what about this?” She tapped on the screen. I leaned forward and found myself looking at a picture of a decaying mansion instead of a pair of oil-slathered abs and thighs.

“Why am I staring at a decrepit old house?”

“Because it’s in Bedlam. We could be neighbors! I pass this house every day, but I didn’t know it was up for sale.”

Bedlam was a small island out in the San Juan Islands, near Lopez and Orcas, located in Haro Strait, on the United States side rather than the Canadian side. Bedlam was also the home to all the local elite of the PretCom—the preternatural community. Sandy had been trying to get me to move there for months, ever since I had broken up with Craig, but I had resisted. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the idea. I just felt there was something missing from my life…from me. My spirit of adventure had vanished during the years I had spent with my emotionally abusive ex-husband.

I frowned, leaning forward to take a closer look. “Reminds me of the house on The Munsters.”

“The mansion is for sale. It’s a far cry from this sterile condo with the tight-ass rules you’re always bitching about. Why are you staying here? Your life with Craig is done—you don’t even like the friends you made together. Add to which, they’re all his friends. He got you fired from your job. There’s nothing tying you to the city.”

She hiccupped and I handed her another margarita.

“Think about it. You like to work with your hands. This is a steal—real estate prices are insane, but you could buy this easily if you sell the condo. There would be plenty left over to fix it up. The house was gorgeous once. It would give you something to do, and when you finish, you’ll have a palace fit for our coven. And best yet, you’ll be near your best friend.”

I stared at the picture. There was something appealing about the house. It looked…lonely. Like it needed love. And I could think of one other added bonus.

“If Craig finds out I sold this place and and plunged the proceeds into a house like that, it would gnaw a hole in his chicken-liver gut. He’d be furious.”

The thought of driving him into a fury appealed to me. He had emotionally beaten me down for years. For some reason, I had taken it, at least until the last day, when he pushed me one step too far and I broke out of my apathy. I had burned a hole right through his precious briefcase, melting the leather with one very-pissed-off wave of my finger. That it had been in front of his cock had been a plus. Scared him so much he ran out and hired a lawyer that day.

“He’d be so pissed, and too terrified to say a word.” Sandy was egging me on for all she was worth. I’d had to stop her from throwing a whammy on Craig when she found out what he had done to me.

“You know, that alone might be worth it.” As I stared at the picture, I realized Sandy made several good points. Through the tequila-colored glasses I was wearing, I could see totally decking the place out. I could create a beautiful, Victorian home that would be perfect for parties with the best of Bedlam.

Giggling, I said, “Craig would shit a brick, wouldn’t he? It would be better than any hex I could throw on him. Especially since there’s nothing I can ever do to get the past eight years of my life back.” A sudden wave of sadness swept over me. “How did I lose myself? How did I go from Maddy, the Mad Wonder, to a woman who knuckled under every time he let out a dissatisfied grunt?”

I tilted my head, staring at the photo. For a fraction of a second, I thought I saw something move in one of the windows, but that had to be the tequila talking.

Sandy nodded, her smile gone. “He would, indeed, and so would all his upper-crust lawyer friends. Craig doesn’t deserve the energy it would take to cast a hex on him. He’s pigeon food. But honey, this would be as good for you as it would be devastating to him. Living well is the best revenge, remember.”

With my mind’s eye suddenly filled with visions of Craig throwing a temper tantrum and being unable to do one damned thing about it, I slapped the table. “By gods, I’m going to do it. I’m going to buy myself a mansion!” Before I could change my mind, I reached for the phone and called Bjorn, a fox-shifter who was both a real estate agent and another member of our coven.

***

By early light—way too early, given the bender the night before—I eased into the graveled drive in front of the mansion. The ferry ride through the San Juans had been choppy. The wind had been whipping something fierce, and my stomach wasn’t all that convinced the trip was a good idea.

Now that I was sober and doing my best to caffeinate myself with a quint-shot mocha, I was prone to agree with my stomach. It wasn’t the idea of moving to Bedlam that made me question myself, but rather, the thought of buying this particular rat’s nest. And yet…and yet, there was something about the house that made me want to hug it, to pat its head and bring it back to life.

As I stared up at the house, something tingled in the back of my brain. I was picking up on something—though I had no clue what. It wasn’t witchcraft, that much I knew, but it was something belonging to the PretCom and it felt familiar—like a song I once knew but had forgotten.

On the passenger seat, Bubba hunkered down in his carrier. He looked like any ordinary cat. Well, any fifteen-pound fluffball red boy with a cowlick on the top of his head. He did a good job of passing. Most people wouldn’t have the faintest clue he was a cjinn by just looking at him. He liked to take trips with me, and I always made sure to consult him whenever I checked out a new place.

“Bubba, you behave while we’re in there. If I let you out, you’d better not run off. I want to ask you some questions when we get a chance to talk. And trust me, this time you are going to tell me the truth.”

Bubba liked to make out that he never led me astray, but the facts proved different.

Buy the leopard print pants, he said. They look great on you. I agree—your hair would be better off bleached blond  á la Bridget Bardot circa mid-1960s. Don’t worry about telling Craig you’re a witch—he won’t mind at all. Yes, Bubba liked his practical jokes, and they were usually aimed at me.

Bubba stared at me then rolled over, exposing his belly in a come-hither gesture. His eyes were glinting, and he wriggled on his back, but I knew better.

“Oh no, I’m not falling for that one. I’m not opening the carrier and I’m not rubbing your belly, so forget it, Bub. Maybe later, when you’re not spoiling for some fun.”

He let out a little huff and rolled back over, resting his head on his paws.

I slowly got out of the car, staring up at the mansion. It could almost pass for a small castle. Reminiscent of some fading southern plantation covered with ivy and grime, half the windows looked like they had been broken out.

“What the hell was I thinking?” I whispered. But I was saved the trouble of giving myself an answer as Bjorn drove up. Bjorn drove a Jaguar, because he could. Bjorn wore designer suits, because he could. Bjorn the fox-shifter was a snobbish, elitist friend who had a heart of gold hidden beneath that flippant, bitchy exterior.

He jumped out, wearing all white. Apparently he’d either just come from a tennis game, or he was bent on bucking the no-white-after-Labor-Day rule. As he headed over to greet me, Sandy pulled up in her van. She had decked out her retro hippie-mobile to the max, upgrading and retrofitting it to turn it into some eco-green machine that only looked like it came from the circa-beatnik era.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, emerging from the driver’s side. She was wearing a floppy straw hat and sunglasses, and carrying a tote bag over her arm that was as big as a backpack. Sandy might look the ditzy blonde, but she was a street-smart cookie and one hell of an experienced witch, although her magic wasn’t as strong as mine.

“Maddy, you made it. Good. I was afraid you’d bail on the idea once you woke up sober.”

“I’m thinking of bailing now,” I said, staring up at the behemoth that faced me down. “What the hell were we thinking?”

“The same thing I’m still thinking this morning. This place is falling apart, it’s old and creaky, but it has a hell of a lot more charm than your condo. You need to get out of Seattle, and Bedlam is the perfect place. You’d be close to the coven here, and away from the gridlock and mess of the city. And…you’d be out of Craig’s reach. It would be a lot harder for him just to drop in to spy on you if your condo wasn’t on the way home from his office building.”

She was right on all counts. I glanced over at Bjorn, who was leaning against his car.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re crackers. But if anybody can bring this old mansion back to life, it’s you.”

I bit my lip, uncertain. Finally, I shrugged and grabbed Bubba’s carrier out of the car. “Okay, show us what’s here. I’ve come all this way. I might as well see the place.”

***

One month later, I moved in. Bubba had been a little iffy, but he hadn’t put up much of a fight. Between his complacency and the thought of being out of Craig’s reach, I couldn’t resist. Though I put off telling Craig that I had sold the condo until I had moved out and handed over the keys to the new owner. It had sold the first day on the market. A little for-sale magic ensured a quick turnaround.

Only after I was on the ferry did I call him to let him know.

Craig had, as predicted, gone ballistic, but I didn’t care. In fact, his shouts were music to my ears. I conveniently conjured a little static and zapped the conversation when he started really rolling with the insults. That was the last time I intended on ever talking to him.

All the way across the Sound and up into the straits, I thought about my new home.

The inspection had showed that the façade of the old mansion was falling apart, but the bones were still good. During the time between signing the contract and moving in, I had contracted with Alpha-Pack, a group of werewolves on the island, to update the plumbing and wiring. I’d be moving in to six fully working bathrooms and a decked-out laundry room. There was some comfort in knowing that I wouldn’t burn to death in an electrical fire. Granted, there hadn’t been time to update any of the fixtures, except for having new toilets and sinks installed in the bathrooms, but the rest would come.

Sandy was at work the morning I took possession of the house, so I arrived on my own. The moving men had already unloaded my furniture and boxes, and all I had left to do was walk through the front door. Bubba still grumbling, but since he wasn’t the one who paid the bills, I vetoed his suggestions that we might as well move into a trailer park. He wasn’t bitching too loud, so I knew he was doing it just because he didn’t want to admit this might be a good idea.

“You’re a snob,” I told him.

“Mrow….” Bubba glared at me. He might be speaking in cat, but I knew full well what he had said.

“Well, that’s nice. You lick your butt with that mouth, remember.” I picked up the cat carrier and headed toward the door. “Just think, in six months this place will be a grand showplace. We’ve got three acres of land, and fifteen rooms to play in. You can have your own retreat for when you aren’t feeling sociable, which is most of the time.”

Bubba hiccupped and gave me the stink-eye, but I also knew that I had hit on a sweet spot. He was always complaining about how small the condo was. Now, there was no way he could object. He let out a low rumble, then hacked up a little hairball into the corner of the carrier. Curling up, he closed his eyes.

“Yeah, like all men, you refuse to admit when you’re beaten.” I dashed up the stairs just as a bolt of lightning flashed through the air and the clouds opened up. Quickly fitting the key in the lock, I opened the door and ducked inside just ahead of the thunder and rain.

The mansion had intrigued me from the start. Even though it had sat empty for so long, it still felt alive. I glanced around and flipped the switch to the right of the door. As the hall flooded with light, I thought I heard a welcoming “Ahhh…” as though the house had suddenly woken up and went, “Wow, I have company!”

I moved into the living room. The place was clean, at least. I had hired a housekeeping service to come in and spend a full day polishing the place from top to bottom. It had required two teams to manage it, but they had dusted and polished and washed down the counters and walls and rubbed away the years of grime and age that had accumulated.

My furniture was waiting, though as I looked around I realized none of it was in place. I had specified to the movers on how to arrange it, so it looked like I’d need to call the company and demand a partial refund. In fact, the room looked downright haphazard, with furniture and boxes shoved willy-nilly into it.

“Wonderful,” I muttered aloud. “That’s going to be a job.”

I dropped my purse on the sofa along with my tote bag and set the cat carrier down. First things first. I needed to set up Bubba’s litter box and get his food and water ready. I had decided to lock him in the pantry for the day, then take him up to my room for the night. Bubba might be a cjinn, but he had enough feline instinct to get himself in trouble. I didn’t want him getting lost in the cavernous house before I had a chance to make certain there was nothing that would hurt him.

“Right. Let’s get a move on, shall we?”

Bubba let out a little purp that could have been anything from “Right on” to “I’m hungry.”

I headed out to the car and carried in the new litter box and food, then made a second trip for the cat litter. Two twenty-five pound bags of the stuff later, I was already worn out. After I dragged everything into the kitchen, I sat down and heaved a sigh of relief. I had managed this much. I could get through the rest of the day. Sandy was due at around six with takeout and to help me with more of the unpacking.

Once I set Bubba up in the pantry, I tackled the furniture, rearranging it until my back felt like it was going to break. A brief rest and two bottles of water later, I began to unpack the kitchen.

By four-fifteen, it was dark out. I was putting away the last of the pans when I happened to glance at the door leading to the basement.

It was open.

What the hell? I hadn’t gone down there yet, let alone leave the door ajar. When I first entered the kitchen, I distinctly remembered it had been closed. So what was going on? Was there somebody in the house with me?  Had some transient gotten in?

The only weapon I had at hand was my magic, but I didn’t want to bet on it right now. It took time and energy to prep most spells, and I was already worn out from the day’s organizing. I grabbed a cleaver from my knife block. Making certain the pantry door was firmly closed—the last thing I wanted was for Bubba to get loose, though he could probably fend for himself better than I could—I edged over to the basement door.

I pushed it open, wincing as the hinges let out a grating creak. Wonderful. I’d probably have to oil every door in the house. A glance down into the basement told me it was dark down there, all right. Dark as night. Dark as jet. Wondering if I should get a flashlight or risk turning on the light, I finally opted for the latter. Sure, it would give fair warning to anybody who might be hiding down there, but it would also provide me with a better view of what I was facing.

As light flooded the stairs, I grimaced. The entire stairwell was covered with spiderwebs. The cleaning crew had neglected my instructions on cleaning from top to bottom, apparently. Another phone call on my growing list.

Back to the spiderwebs. I had no beef with spiders, as long as they understood my terms. Namely, they keep to the corners or stay outside and I wouldn’t smash them flat. But I hadn’t had time to bargain with the eight-legged bozos here yet.

A glance around the kitchen netted me a broom that had been left in one of the corners.

Armed with the cleaver in one hand, the broom in the other, I began to edge down the stairs, one at a time. Each step I tested gently, praying it would hold. I had seen too many movies where the victim had broken through the steps only to get trapped by the monster in the basement. There was a makeshift railing, but to use it I’d need a third hand. Even if I had one, the railing didn’t look all that steady.

Luck was with me, though. One step felt like it might give way, but the others held firm. As I slowly descended into the cavernous basement, I swept away the webs, cursing the cleaners under my breath.

“Last time I use their services,” I muttered, trying to muster my courage as I stepped into the main chamber of the basement.

It was filled with trunks and boxes overflowing with junk. Some of it looked to be decades old. Furniture had been shoved into the corners, lining the walls—old armoires and chairs and tables. Hmm, maybe I could make use of this somehow. An antique treasure trove might lead to a whole new source of income if I wanted to go the flea market or Hex-Sale route.

A sudden noise to my right startled me and I whirled toward the back wall. From here I could see a door. A closet, maybe? Another room? Skirting a pile of boxes, I approached. I hadn’t bothered to ask about the basement. Bjorn had assured me there was no water damage or mold, and that had been enough for me. I had no clue there were two rooms down here. Maybe it was the furnace room. But I knew the furnace was in the far corner of the main chamber, so that couldn’t be it.

“Who’s there? Is anybody there?” Feeling ludicrous—if there was an intruder, he wasn’t going to come out and introduce himself—I laid the broom across a table and edged forward. Maybe I’d get lucky and find rats or a stray cat or something.

No answer. Not that I’d expected one.

One more step and I stood in front of the door. As I stared at the doorknob, I thought I saw it turn. I waited. Nothing. Certain my imagination was running away with me, I reached out and gave the knob a turn, then opened the door.

Inside, I found a small alcove. And in the center of the alcove, propped on a couple of sawhorses, rested a coffin.