The streets of Midnight Point were bustling with shoppers by the time I arrived at my office. Men and women on their way to work, and shoppers out for the best early morning deals, skirted the icy patches on the sidewalks as they hurried along on their errands.
The sky was clear, a rare sight for a January day. Never mind that it was thirty-four degrees, and a light skiff of snow covered the streets. When the sun decided to peep through the clouds, people hoisted themselves off their asses and headed out and about.
Taking a deep breath, I filled my lungs with an icy blast of clean air. The chill was piercing, but it worked better than anything but caffeine to wake me up. I’d never give up my caffeine, but cold weather made for a nice, added boost.
“Cripes, it’s busy,” I said, edging out another car for the lone parking spot near my shop. The driver of the other vehicle gave me a frown, but he refrained from any nasty shouts and passed by as I eased into the space. I muttered a curse on whoever thought parallel parking was a good idea.
As I stepped out of my car, slinging my purse over my shoulder, I tried to avoid the icy spots on the sidewalk. I was wearing a pair of high-heeled boots, and though they had chunky heels and nonskid soles, they were still problematic on slippery surfaces. I cautiously picked my way across the walkway over to the Mocha Express—the shop to the left of my own shop.
My best friend, Crystal Jagger, ran the coffee shop, and it was the place to go when you were downtown if you wanted the best coffee drinks and pastries. Crystal didn’t run an upscale joint, but she sold affordable, bingeable pastries, and the shop was always busy.
Edging my way through the crowd, I reached the end of the line. Crystal caught sight of me and, leaving the crowd to her barista Karina, she motioned for me to join her in the back. I slipped through the door, into the heart of the bakery. The aroma was so good I almost melted.
“Hey, I can’t stay long, but I wanted to grab a latte and something to eat. I didn’t have time for breakfast,” I said.
She grinned. “Be right back. Stay here.”
As Crystal vanished back into the front, I sat on the bench to the side, looking at the kitchen. It was filled with pans of cookies and muffins, and to one side, a line of freshly baked bread awaited its packaging.
Crystal returned, latte and bag of goodies in hand. “Here,” she said.
“Put it on my tab?” I asked, taking a deep breath. “And save me a loaf of your French bread?”
“Sure thing.” She glanced out front again. “Karina needs help. I’d better get going. But I’ll duck over on my morning break and bring you your bread and another latte, if you want.”
I gave her a quick hug, then picked up my latte and a bag of whatever it was she’d decided I needed for breakfast. “Thanks! Talk to you soon.”
Within minutes, I was back out into the icy sunshine.
Married At First Bite, my new business, was snuggled between Crystal’s shop and a shop belonging to another friend of mine. Ever After, a bridal shop, was run by Kevin Sands, a puma shifter with an eye for style, offered the finest in bridal wear. At least, that’s what Kevin claimed. Seriously though, he had a flair for matching a bride with her perfect dress, and he never pushed for anything over a bride’s budget.
The sign in my window read: matchmaking, readings & paranormal investigations.
Given that I was a matchmaker, it seemed to be an auspicious omen when the space next to Ever After opened up. I decided to take the leap and hope for the best. But I also knew that in a small town, I’d have to do more than bring couples together. While most people were looking for love, not that many went to a matchmaker. So I decided to pool some of my other talents with finding love for others, and I figured between the matchmaking, the readings, and investigations, I should be able to make a living.
As I unlocked the door and slipped inside, I took a deep breath. The scent of fresh paint was fading. I’d finished the renovations last week, and now, the mauve walls emanated a calming sense, and sage and ivory accents and trim followed through with an elegant feel.
I’d bought ivory-colored furniture to enhance the look, and everything in the shop felt welcoming and open. At first, I’d been hesitant about opening my own matchmaking service, but my aunt had reminded me that people everywhere were looking for love, and Midnight Point was no exception. By combining both my matchmaking service with the option for psychic readings, my business would probably generate enough clientele, even within a small town. I was familiar enough with Midnight Point and her ways to surmise that, even if people weren’t looking for love, they might well be looking for advice from an experienced witch.
I took a deep breath and hung my coat on the coat rack, then glanced in the mirror on the wall—carefully placed so it didn’t face the door, because I had no desire to invite entities in through an unguarded portal—and made sure my makeup was good. Since I had first walked into this space a month ago, it had felt welcoming, though I didn’t sense any ghosts or spirits. I cleansed it once a week with sage and lemon water.
Before I opened the door to the public, I decided to cast a circle. First, I lit a stick of incense. A delightful blend of rose and hibiscus, it was barely enough to have a scent, but it added to the ambience. Then, I opened my tote bag and withdrew a gebo rune—one of the Norse runes for good luck—and hung it on the wall. It was shaped like an X. I had carved the rune on a round of apple wood. I turned my attention to the bookshelves and ran my fingers over them. A glance at my fingers told me they were dust free.
This is it. It’s showtime.
Squaring my shoulders, I walked over to the window and flipped on the sign that said, welcome. we’re open.
Then, with another look out on the sidewalks, I took my place behind my desk.
I hope I haven’t made a huge mistake by returning to Midnight Point, I thought. But then again, it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.
***
Two months before, two days before Thanksgiving…
“Is everything gone?” I asked, staring at the smoldering ruins of what had been my house. Now it was a charred pile of wood, dust, and smoke. The scorched remains were crumbling, even as I watched. The beautiful house I’d shared with my late husband Dan was now a pile of ashes and charcoal. All the memories of life with him…gone. I was so shocked that I couldn’t even cry.
The fire marshal, who was standing beside me, nodded. “Most of it, I’m afraid.”
“What happened?” I couldn’t imagine what had caught fire. I was always cautious with the gas range, and I mostly used battery-operated candles, given Miss P.’s curiosity about anything that looked like fire. Thank gods, the firemen had rescued my cat. Even better, she wasn’t hurt. My twenty-pound calico Maine Coon, Miss Prance-a-Lot, or Miss P. for short, was in my car, curled up asleep in the back seat.
But everything else…it was all gone.
“We aren’t entirely sure,” he said. “But we have some suspicions.”
“It’s been one hell of a day,” I said, shivering in the November evening. Thanksgiving was in two days, and I was supposed to head to Midnight Point tomorrow morning, to stay with my aunt and hang with my best friend and her family. It looked like I might be imposing for a bit longer than that.
“I think you’re holding up remarkably well,” the fire marshal said.
I shrugged. “Not only did I lose my house, but I was fired today…or as they called it, laid off. The kicker is, I was doing my job too well. It’s been a total bust of a day.” Exhaustion and nerves were taking their toll. I was starting to babble.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Tripwater. We think some idiot nearby was playing with fireworks and launched one into a pile of dry leaves beneath your oak over there. Given it’s been dry for a few days, and the strong winds that have been whipping through, we’re pretty sure a spark caught hold,” the fire marshal said. “We found the remains of wrappers on the property.”
The oak next to the remains of my house was charred, fire streaking a black, sooty line up its trunk. The tree was beautiful, hovering over my house, had provided shade during the summer. Now, half the tree was gone, as well as my entire home.
Weak in the knees, I looked for someplace to sit down. A bench in my rose garden had survived, so I settled down on it. It was covered with ash from the heavy smoke that still billowed out of my house, but I didn’t care. So what if the one outfit I had to my name was covered with ash and soot?
“Is there someone you need to call? Do you have anywhere to go?” The fire marshal followed me, a concerned look on his face.
I thought about it. I had a few friends in town, but since Dan had died, a lot of our friends had drifted off. They weren’t part of the Otherkin community, given Dan was mostly human. He had a little witchblood in him, but it was diluted. He wasn’t sure how far back his magical heritage went, given his father had very little power, and beyond that, nobody knew. His family had been separated by circumstance and time.
Our friends weren’t sure how to act around me, now that I was alone. In the past two years since Dan had died, I’d mostly stayed in touch with people from my hometown. I could count on one hand the number of people I felt comfortable hanging out with in Seattle.
“I’ll take Miss P. and check in at a hotel. I’m not sure what to do next.” I was numb and exhausted.
“Maisy—that’s correct, isn’t it?” the fire marshal asked.
“Right. Maisy Tripwater.” I scooted over, offering him a seat next to me, but he shook his head.
“We’ll be here for another couple of hours, making sure all the flames are fully extinguished. I suggest you and your cat go find a hotel. There’s nothing you can do here until tomorrow, and you really should try to get some rest,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, bleakly. “Thank you so much for saving her. Losing Miss P. would have been more than I could handle.” A sob caught in my throat and I let out a shaky sigh.
“I’m glad we could at least do that. She’s gorgeous,” the fire marshal said. “She may need a bath—there’s a little soot on her, but the medics checked her out and she doesn’t have any smoke damage. She’s breathing fine.”
“When will I know what started the fire?” I asked. “I need to call my insurance company.”
“We’ll know more tomorrow. We’ll follow through with a complete inspection and get you our official findings. You should be able to get in here tomorrow to start hunting for anything that you might be able to salvage, although I recommend caution. Not much will be left standing and you can expect to find a lot of metal shards, nails, broken glass in the debris. Meanwhile, there’s not much else for you to do here.”
“I’ll let you know where I’m staying.”
We exchanged contact info, then I headed back to my car. Miss P. was still asleep. I breathed a sigh of relief. She was my best friend, of the four-legged variety. She was my world, actually. I’d adopted her a year ago, a year after I’d lost Dan. My heart caught in my throat when I thought about how devastated I’d be if she died.
I headed to the nearest hotel that allowed pets. I managed to keep it together until I’d checked in and was shown to my room. When I told the hotel what had happened, they found me a robe and a pair of slippers. I took a shower and ordered some tuna for Miss P. and a sandwich for me. After we ate and I stretched out on the bed, I finally let go and cried for an hour straight, with Miss P. snuggling against me.
***
Midnight Point, Washington, was a shadow town. With the feel of a small town, it offered a number of options comparable with those of a bigger city.
Shadow towns were small towns scattered throughout the country where magic ran rife, and where the veils between the worlds were thin. There were a number in Western Washington besides Midnight Point: Moonshadow Bay, Terameth Lake, Whisper Hollow, and Crescent Falls.
A haven for artists and Otherkin of all kinds, Midnight Point was on an island directly off the coast of Port Townsend. The ferry, on its way from Port Townsend to Whidbey Island, stopped at the docks several times each day. A lot happened here, magically speaking. Some good. Some bad. Some downright dangerous and weird.
As I sat in my shop a while later, waiting for my first client, I thought about my business. I knew that I’d get plenty of readings, and probably a few investigations, given the nature of the town. But I wondered how many love matches I’d manage to engineer. I started to tidy up my desk—which was already clean—when the door opened.
Crystal stood there, bag in one hand, coffee in the other. “I’m on my break. I thought you’d like more coffee,” she said, handing me the bag as she put the coffee cup on the desk.
I peeked inside to find a maple bar and several chocolate chip cookies. “These smell incredible.” I slid them out of the bag and placed them on a napkin.
“I thought you’d like them.” She glanced around. “Any sign of life so far?”
“No, but given I’ve been open for business all of an hour, I’m not surprised. I hope some spillover from Kevin’s shop comes my way. Bridesmaids wanting their own wedding, that sort of thing.” I laughed, biting into the maple bar. “So, here we are…again.”
“It’s like no time’s passed,” she said, though both of us knew that wasn’t true.
Crystal and I had been best buddies since we were seven years old and had first attended the Midnight Manor Academy, a magical academy that served kindergarten through grade twelve, along with continuing education classes for adults. By the end of school, we were still best buddies, but headed in different directions.
Crystal stayed in Midnight Point, while I left town and, after backpacking my way through Europe for a year, I settled down in Seattle where I took on a variety of jobs till I discovered my calling. I dedicated myself to my work for seventeen years until I met Dan and married him, and then…lost him five years later.
During all that time, Crystal and I stayed in touch, visiting when I came home for the holidays. Once in a while, she came down to Seattle for the weekend.
“And yet, a lifetime happened in the past twenty-three years since I left. Including losing my husband, then my job, and my home.” I bit my tongue the moment the words came out of my mouth. It sounded bitchier than I ever intended it to.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it that way.” She blushed. “What I meant is…”
“I know. I’m sorry,” I said. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’m just hypersensitive lately. We go way back. You’re the oldest friend I have.” I shrugged. “It’s just been a rough past few months. What can I say?”
“We may not be blood, but we’re sisters,” she said. “And my parents have always considered you family.” She paused. “How’s your aunt?”
My aunts—Astra and Sara—had lived in Midnight Point since they were young adults, the same as my parents. When my parents died in a plane crash on their way to the UK, they took me in and brought me up as their own. But Aunt Sara had died a few months before I turned eighteen, from a severe case of pneumonia. Since then, it had just been Aunt Astra and me.
All my other relatives lived on the East Coast. They never paid much attention to us. They had disapproved of my father, Johann, because his father had been adopted and he couldn’t trace their magical lineage. Even though he was tested by the Aseer and she affirmed he was witchblood in heritage, my mother’s family punished their decision to get married by cutting her off. It was then that Astra and Sara had broken from the main family, as well. They supported my mother by moving out here with her.
“Astra’s doing well. She says to tell you hey and to get your ass over for dinner sometime soon.” When I moved back to Midnight Point, I had moved in with my aunt while I waited for the insurance check to come through. The money was due any day now, and then I could look for a house of my own.
“I’d like that. She was always so much fun. As much as I love my folks, I used to envy you, living with your aunts. They made life seem so…vibrant.” Crystal stretched, then said, “I’d better get back to the shop. Good luck! With Kevin’s store next door, you’re bound to pick up business.”
“I hope so. I know it sounds calculated, but hey, if people are looking for love and need help, then I’m here to help them.”
As Crystal left, I waved and went back to sorting out my desk, all the while wondering once again if this had been a good idea.
***
An hour later, the bells on the door chimed and I jerked my head up, out of the book I’d been reading. A woman entered the shop and looked around.
“Hello, may I help you?” I stood, giving her a gracious smile. She had the look of a shifter, though I couldn’t be sure.
“Hi…so… You’re a matchmaker?” she asked, walking over to my desk. “You have a beautiful shop,” she added.
“Thank you. I’m Maisy Tripwater, and yes, Married At First Bite is a matchmaking service. I also offer tarot readings and psychic investigations.” I motioned for her to sit opposite my desk. I decided to forgo shaking hands. She still looked nervous and I didn’t want to scare her off by acting too eager.
She settled down in the mauve wing chair. “Thank you. I’m Brenda Kline.” She slid her hand over the microfiber upholstery of the chair. “Nice,” she said.
I returned to my seat. “How can I help you today, Brenda?”
She inhaled slowly, then finally leaned forward. “I’m lonely. I want to find someone, but I haven’t had much luck on my own.” She seemed almost embarrassed.
I nodded. “It’s not easy to meet someone in today’s fast-paced world, especially with how busy we all are.”
There was an art to matchmaking. I’d discovered I had a knack for matching people early on, but it took more than natural talent. Learning how to go about it without offending the client or making them feel inadequate was an art form that required thought, diplomacy, and empathy.
“You can say that again,” Brenda said, relaxing enough to lean back.
“Have you ever been married?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, I was. I had a rough marriage. The asshole was an abusive jerk. I hate to admit it, but when he died, I jumped for joy. I’d tried to leave him several times but…I’m a bear shifter,” she added.
That was all she needed to say about that. Divorce within the bear shifter community could happen, but only after obtaining permission from the clan’s leaders. Men and women were considered equal, but they were expected to mate for life. It required a lot of persuasion and proof to establish a reason. People had been kicked out of their clans for divorcing without permission.
“Got it,” I said. “Okay, so you’re a widow. How long were you married?”
“Seven years,” she said. “I married him when I was twenty, and it’s been three years since he died. I’m thirty, now.” She paused, then added, “So, how does your service work? I’ve tried a couple dating apps without success.”
“Well, first, I have a natural talent for finding matches for my clients. I use my magic, as well as other, more traditional, methods. I access the IMDB, Washington division. That would be the Independent Matchmakers Data Base. Potential candidates who sign up through there are subjected to rigorous background checks.”
“So, do I sign up for this database?”
“You can if you want, but you don’t have to. For one thing, the clients can’t access it. The database is an industry-only business. Matchmakers are the only ones who have access, and most of us begin our searches there. If you want me to add you, I can. Regardless, I’m going to have you fill out a comprehensive form for me to show me just what you’re looking for. Then I get to work. I use both the database and my own instincts to find you a match. While I can’t guarantee success, at my old job, I had a 90 percent success rate. In fact, that’s why they laid me off,” I said.
“Why on earth would they let you go with that high of a success rate?” Brenda asked.
I glanced up at her, suddenly realizing just how pretty she was. She had long brown hair streaked with honey-colored highlights. Her eyes were coffee-brown, and her features—refined. She wasn’t willowy, but sturdy and she looked strong. I had the feeling that I wouldn’t have a problem finding her a match.
“Because I cut into their business. You see, a lot of matchmaking sites base their company off the weight loss or gambling methodology. You build up repeat clientele by never actually helping them reach success. You give them enough hope—help them lose a few pounds or win a few dollars. Just enough to believe that this time, they might actually hit the jackpot, be it money or a partner. Only, you rig it so that it seldom actually works. When I started making match after match and the couples made it to the altar, they let me go.” I shook my head. “I don’t like leading my clients on. If I can’t make a match, I’ll tell them.”
She pulled out her wallet. “How much?”
I grinned. Honesty worked wonders. “I charge a non-refundable fee of five hundred dollars, and that covers four matches. For each match after that, it’s another hundred dollars. If we find a mate for you and you make it to the altar, there’s a thousand-dollar charge. But I never just randomly throw people together. I want to be sure they’ll be compatible.”
Brenda handed me her credit card. “I trust you,” she said. “Let’s do this.”
As I ran her card, then sat her down in front of a laptop to fill out the extensive form I’d developed, I thought that maybe this business would work. Maybe coming back to Midnight Point was the best decision I’d made in ages.
COLLAPSE 
