Since I only stared at him in silence, my mouth dry, he moved a little farther into the store, an unpleasant smile playing on his thin lips. I hadn’t seen him for more than six months, and so maybe that was part of the reason he looked so horribly, terribly out of place in my pretty shop with the soothing deep blue on the walls and Hazel’s intricately painted constellations on the ceiling. His shaved scalp gleamed under the glow of the sconces on the walls, and the silver Scorpio symbol he wore around his throat glittered with each step he took.
“Does this silence mean you’re surprised to see me?”
“I — ” Get it together, Selena, I scolded myself. He’s on your ground — ground you’ve purified and blessed and warded.
Although honestly, I had to wonder how good those wards actually were, since they obviously hadn’t been able to prevent Lucien from entering the store.
“What are you doing here, Lucien?” I asked, glad that I sounded brisk and no-nonsense, and not frightened at all. Then again, the bold tone in my voice was probably due to the glass of merlot I’d finished fifteen minutes earlier rather than any true courage on my part.
His smile only widened. “Why, I wanted to see you. I don’t think that was very fair, the way you just up and left L.A. without telling anyone.” A long pause, during which his deep-set eyes, half shadowed under his sparse brows, seemed to glitter with secret amusement. “Or rather, without telling anyone except your mother. Good thing she was so open to passing on what she knew.”
“If you hurt her — ” I began, fury and fear building in me in equal measures. My mother tended to trust everyone she met, which made her a perfect target for someone like Lucien Dumond.
He put his hands on his hips. As usual, he wore black from head to toe — a black button-up shirt, black jeans, black biker boots. Heavy silver rings shone from all his fingers, and tribal tattoos peeked out from under his rolled-up cuffs and on his neck where the open collar of his shirt revealed them. Even in L.A., he attracted attention, but in Globe, he would stick out like a crow in a flock of canaries.
“Of course I didn’t hurt her,” he said, now sounding wounded. “Why would I hurt someone who was so willing to give me the information I needed? No, she told me that you wanted a change of scenery and had moved to Arizona. She didn’t have your exact address — it seems you told her you’d give her that later on — but once I knew your destination, it wasn’t that hard to determine exactly where you’d ended up.”
I reflected that I needed to tell my mother not to go spilling my secrets to every random guy who called asking for information. Then I realized there wasn’t much point in asking her to be careful. She’d agree and tell me she was sorry, and then she’d be right back at it again. I loved my mother, but sometimes her lack of caution drove me right up a wall.
“So, now you’re here,” I remarked, doing my best to sound bored and unconcerned. “Again I have to ask, what do you want?”
The expression of false affability he’d been wearing abruptly vanished. “You didn’t ask permission to leave.”
“I what?” I said, not sure I’d heard him correctly…or at least thinking that I couldn’t have possibly heard him correctly. “Since when do I have to ask permission of you to do anything?”
His eyes narrowed, turning to slits. Tone silky, he replied, “As head of GLANG, I am in charge of all magical practitioners in the L.A. area. You’re a magical practitioner, aren’t you?”
“I’m a hedgewitch,” I shot back, matching him glare for glare. “I don’t work for anyone, I don’t answer to anyone. Including you.”
“How sweet that you think you have an opinion in the matter,” he said, apparently not at all perturbed by the death stare I’d turned on him. That is, I hoped it was a death stare. Since more than once I’d been asked if I was the spokesmodel for a popular game show, I had a feeling that the borderline perky looks I’d inherited from my mother weren’t doing me any favors. Maybe it had been a mistake to give myself bangs. “I am the strongest magical practitioner in the Los Angeles basin. That means I call the shots.”
What a load of garbage. I wanted to tell Lucien that it didn’t matter what kind of rules he made up in his diseased brain; I wasn’t beholden to him…or to anyone else, for that matter.
Unfortunately, he was telling the truth about one thing. He was a much stronger magic worker than I could ever hope to be, partly because he didn’t care if he cut corners or performed rituals that severely affected his karma.
And then there was the dirty little secret he’d been hiding from his followers and acolytes, something none of them had apparently picked up on but which I’d sensed the moment I met him.
Part of the reason he was so strong was that he used dark spells to tap into the powers of the people he kept around him. As far as I could tell, none of them had been able to sense what he was up to, but I’d felt it right away when we first crossed paths, had almost been able to see the energy moving from them into his body.
It was an incredible perversion of the craft, but I knew Lucien didn’t give a damn about that. No, all he wanted was to draw more people to him, to surround himself with those who could feed the spells he created to keep his rich and powerful clientele happy. And if you got in the way of those spells, or did anything that might make someone think he wasn’t quite on the up and up, then he had absolutely no compunction about squashing you like a bug.
I wasn’t about to tell him that I’d learned what he was hiding, of course. The man was dangerous enough on his own; I didn’t want to think how he’d react if he knew I’d discovered what he was up to.
Time to try a different tack. “I’d think you’d want to be rid of me, considering the way I poached that one client of yours.”
Of course, I hadn’t really poached her — she’d come to me of her own volition — but I figured I wasn’t above buttering up Lucien Dumond if it meant I could get him out of my life that much quicker.
His lips thinned almost to nonexistence. “Oh, but you cut her loose, so I suppose that transgression can be forgiven.” A pause, and then the annoyance vanished from his face, and he smiled again, this time the open, friendly smile he probably used on his clients. For all I knew, it worked. The man wasn’t attractive in a conventional way, but he did have a certain perverse charm. “And Selena, I never wanted to get rid of you. I wanted you to work with me…to be with me.”
Personally, I would rather have gone to bed with a rattlesnake, but I knew I couldn’t let my disgust show. I didn’t know how I was going to get rid of him, and yet I all too clearly understood that informing him I would never be with him in the way he wanted was a recipe for disaster. Men like Lucien Dumond didn’t like being told no.
“I’m not really a fan of being part of a harem,” I said lightly. “Doesn’t work with my lifestyle.”
He shrugged. “I can get rid of all of them,” he replied. A snap of his fingers, followed by, “Just like that.”
“How very self-sacrificing,” I said.
Once again, his eyes narrowed. “You’re worth more than all of them put together. But if you combined your powers with mine…we could move worlds.”
Was that a leer on his face? Judging by the way his gaze moved downward to take in the slight hint of cleavage my embroidered shirt revealed, I had to guess it probably was. Disgust curdled in my stomach, but once again, I told myself I had to play it cool.
“I’m not really interested in moving worlds,” I told him, then stepped over to a display of crystal and gemstone spheres in various shapes and sizes and colors. After adjusting one minutely, I looked over my shoulder. He hadn’t moved, but instead watched me with those gimlet eyes. “To be perfectly honest, I’d been thinking about getting out of L.A. for a while. This opportunity came up, so I took it. Maybe I should have let you know, but I didn’t think it would be that big a deal.”
“It is a big deal,” he said. “A very big deal.”
Great. Clearly, Lucien wasn’t going to take any of my excuses as a reason to leave me alone. I found myself wishing that the store had one of those panic buttons under the counter, the kind they pushed at the bank to summon the cops when a robbery was in progress. Even if I’d had one, though, it wouldn’t have summoned Calvin Standingbear, since he wasn’t a member of the Globe P.D.
Too bad. It would have been amusing to watch Calvin pound Lucien into the ground like a tent stake.
Not that he would have gotten that far, I realized soberly. Calvin probably had a good five inches and twenty pounds on Lucien, but he didn’t have magic at his disposal, which made all the difference. Lucien could have drawn enough of Calvin’s life force to make himself stronger and his opponent weaker, and Calvin would never be able to figure out why he hadn’t been able to best someone he should have physically outmatched.
“Look,” I replied, trying not to sound too desperate, “it’s been a long day, and I’m tired. Why don’t we meet for breakfast tomorrow and discuss this further then?”
For a moment, he didn’t reply, only continued to survey me out of those narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to determine what kind of game I was playing. And really, I wasn’t playing anything. I knew we’d only keep going back and forth over the same ground, and I was tired. Not that I thought meeting for breakfast would change anything, but, if nothing else, it would give me more time to think and formulate a plan.
Since the silence was growing uncomfortable, I added, “You are staying somewhere around here, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said shortly. “Athene and I got an Airbnb here in town.”
Athene Kappas was Lucien’s right-hand woman. I’d never been able to tell whether their relationship was sexual in nature or not, but she handled all his business and always appeared at his side. For all I knew, he’d made her be his chauffeur on this little Arizona road trip. I wouldn’t put it past him.
In a way, I had to laugh at the gall of a man who would drive all the way from L.A. to Globe to importune me into being his partner while dragging his possible-paramour along for the ride. It seemed so inimitably Lucien.
But I only smiled sweetly and said, “Well, bring her along. I’m sure all three of us will have a lot to discuss.”
He didn’t take the bait, though. “No, I think it’s better if you and I meet alone. Where?”
“The Flatiron,” I said, naming a café where I’d had a couple of decent breakfasts since coming to town. “It’s over on Highway 60.”
“I’ll find it,” he replied. “Ten o’clock tomorrow.”
“Ten o’clock,” I repeated, glad that he hadn’t suggested a time at the crack of dawn. But then, that sort of meeting would have been even more inconvenient for him than it would have been for me. I’d gotten the impression that the man was a complete night owl.
To my relief, he didn’t push it after that, but instead headed toward the door, which had been left slightly ajar after he entered. “Tomorrow,” he said ominously, then swept out.
I didn’t bother to respond, but only went over to the door and locked it behind him. That task done, I glanced around the store. Everything was in its place, everything as it should be, and yet I still felt as though something had gone seriously wrong with the world.
Well, I’d deal with all that the next day. For the time being, I was just going to head to bed and figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.
At least the store opening had gone well.
I put myself together decently the next morning, mostly because I planned to go straight to the shop after breakfast with Lucien. Well, unless he turned me into a toad or something. A few weeks earlier, I wouldn’t have thought such a thing was even a possibility, but Archie’s experience had taught me not to take anything for granted.
“Who was that man?” he asked, planting himself on his haunches in the entrance to the bathroom as I applied mascara.
“What man?” I responded.
Archie let out a soft hiss. “The man you were arguing with last night.”
“You were eavesdropping?”
“Hardly,” Archie said, now sounding bored. “I was sleeping on the landing, and your voices carried quite clearly up the staircase. You didn’t sound very happy with him.”
“That’s because I wasn’t,” I said. Because I figured it couldn’t hurt to give my resident cursed cat some background, I added, “He’s — he’s a sorcerer from L.A. He’s also a world-class ass, and I’m less than thrilled that he tracked me down here. But done is done, so now I have to deal with it.”
“And how are you going to ‘deal with it’?”
“I’m meeting him for breakfast.”
“That’s supposed to solve everything?”
I slipped the tube of mascara back into my cosmetic case and pulled out my favorite MAC lipstick. Thank the Goddess that I could still mail-order the shades I knew and loved, although I was going to miss going into the store in person to try out new colors.
“Honestly, I don’t know if it’s going to solve anything,” I said after I’d applied a light coating of Antique Velvet to my lips. “But I have to try. At least this way, there’s a slim chance I’ll be able to persuade him to let me stay here in Globe rather than haul me back to L.A.”
At once, Archie’s golden-green eyes slitted in alarm. “You can’t let him do that. I was just starting to get comfortable here.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, Archie, it’s all about you.”
Being Archie, he didn’t seem at all embarrassed that I’d called him out on his selfishness. Not for the first time, I wondered if he’d been the same way as a human, or whether his selfish streak had emerged over the decades while he was hustling to stay alive as an alley cat.
“It should always be about ourselves,” he said, sounding huffy. “After all, who else can we trust to look out for our own best interests?”
For a second, I considered asking him whether he was a devotee of Ayn Rand, because his comment sounded exactly like that author’s self-serving philosophies. But since I didn’t want to get sidetracked, I decided to let the matter go.
“I’m going to try appealing to his better nature,” I told the cat, even as I privately wondered whether Lucien Dumond had a better nature to appeal to. Still, I had to try. “Or at least, I’m going to do my best to persuade him that there’s no reason why he’d even want me back in L.A. With any luck, I’ll convince him that I’m a mediocre witch and no one he needs to waste his energy on.”
“I’d be happy to help you with that argument,” Archie said with a sniff. “Considering you’ve been here nearly three weeks and you still haven’t turned me back into a human.”
More than once during that time, I’d done my best to tell him I really wasn’t that kind of a witch. Obviously, those words hadn’t yet sunk in. I needed to save my arguing energy for dealing with Lucien, though, and so I just shrugged as I stowed my makeup bag back in its drawer. “I’ve been doing what research I can, Archie. There are only so many hours in the day. I did just put a store and an apartment together in three weeks, you know.”
The cat made a harrumphing noise — coming from that throat, it sounded more like he was about to cough up a hairball — and stalked out of the bathroom.
Just as well. Although I was used to him hanging around while I put on my makeup, it was sometimes annoying to have to dodge questions while applying lipstick.
I went to the little hand-painted box on the dresser that held my jewelry and pulled out my favorite dangly amethyst earrings. The weather had started to warm up, so I wore a scoop-necked black T-shirt over my favorite purple and black sequined skirt, and black ballet flats instead of boots. It had always been one of my favorite outfits, and I hoped it would give me some courage for the coming confrontation.
Because I definitely wasn’t getting dolled up just to impress Lucien Dumond. I had my planned lunch with Hazel as well. Good thing we’d decided to meet at one; that would give me plenty of time to get this breakfast with Lucien over with.
Ten minutes until ten. I grabbed my purse and hurried downstairs, then went out the back door into the alley. That was one drawback about my new home; it didn’t have a garage or even a carport.
But Brett had helped me put up one of those canvas and steel car shelters, and that had helped to keep my poor Beetle from getting hopelessly dirty. Even so, I knew I’d need to take it to get washed pretty soon, since the shelter didn’t keep all the dust out.
I knew I was preoccupying myself with silly concerns like the car because I didn’t want to think about this face-to-face with Lucien. While I had to hope he wouldn’t make too much of a scene in a public place — my entire reasoning for asking him to meet me at the Flatiron in the first place — I couldn’t know that for sure. It was entirely possible he’d cause some sort of commotion embarrassing enough that I’d be forced to leave Globe just to avoid the fallout.
Or not, I told myself as I headed down Broad Street toward the restaurant. What do you care what people think? You’ve already outed yourself as a witch, so who cares if Lucien starts haranguing you about your powers or whatever? This isn’t high school.
No, it wasn’t, thank the Goddess. All the same, even a functioning adult generally wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of creating a scene around the people they had to live and work with.
My nerves were fairly vibrating with anxiety by the time I pulled into The Flatiron’s parking lot. I didn’t see Lucien’s car — a big black Mercedes S-Class sedan with California plates would have been pretty conspicuous amongst all the pickup trucks and SUVs — but I had a feeling he wanted to be late on purpose so he could make an entrance.
Whatever.
I touched the amulet of black tourmaline I carried in an inner pocket of my purse, hoping that its ability to absorb or even repel negative energy would be enough to protect me. Right after I’d gotten up that morning, I’d lit a protection candle and uttered an invocation to Cerridwen, goddess of the earth, that she might give me the strength I needed for this confrontation, but I still wasn’t feeling all that confident. Ordinary people I could deal with…but Lucien Dumond was a whole order of magnitude beyond ordinary.
Since it was later in the morning, the restaurant wasn’t too crowded. I managed a smile at Ingrid, the owner, who was doing hostess duty.
“Any place you like, Selena,” she told me as she handed me a menu.
“Thanks,” I replied. “Can I have another menu? A friend is meeting me.”
Interest sparked in her light blue eyes. “‘Friend’?” she echoed. “Anyone I know?”
I supposed at some point I’d get used to the casual nosiness of small-town dwellers. “No,” I said, trying to sound casual. “A friend from L.A.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding a little disappointed. I couldn’t be sure, but I was starting to get the feeling that a bunch of the local busybodies had started a pool to see how long it would take before I started dating someone.
Well, if that was the case, they were going to be waiting a long time. Not that I had anything against dating, per se, only that it hadn’t worked out so well for me in the past. Over the last couple of years, I’d spent my energies focusing on the craft and my practice, since I’d gotten the distinct feeling that a happy love life was not something I was destined to enjoy during this particular lifetime. Maybe my dismal love life was merely karma…or maybe just really bad luck.
I took the menus over to a table that overlooked the parking lot, figuring at least that way I could see when Lucien pulled up and steel myself for his arrival at the table. No sign of the black Mercedes yet, though.
A waitress I didn’t recognize — and who looked barely out of high school, if even that — came by and asked if I wanted anything to drink. Since I didn’t know how long I’d be waiting for Lucien to appear, I asked for some hot water and a basket of herbal tea. It wasn’t that I avoided caffeine altogether, but I was already on edge and didn’t see the need to make myself even more jangly.
Ten o’clock came and went. My tea arrived, and I wasted some time in the ritual of choosing which variety I wanted from the little basket provided, then pouring hot water over the bag I’d selected. While I waited for it to cool down enough to drink, I got out my phone and frowned at the time stamp.
Ten fourteen.
Hmm. I didn’t have any missed calls or texts, so it wasn’t as though Lucien had tried to reach out and let me know he was running late. I supposed he could have gotten lost, although that wasn’t such an easy thing to do in Globe, especially in a late-model Mercedes that I assumed had a top-of-the-line navigation system.
A big white SUV with some sort of logo on the door pulled into one of the empty parking spaces. I couldn’t tell what was on the logo, since the vehicle was nearly pointed dead on toward the table where I sat. A minute later, the door opened, and Calvin Standingbear got out, black hair shimmering in the bright morning sun.
If possible, he was even more impressive in full daylight.
The logo on his SUV was probably the badge of the San Ramon tribal police department. I wondered what he was doing here, then thought he probably had stopped in to get a cup of coffee to go or something. After all, the restaurant was located right on Highway 60, and he could come and go from here more easily than heading over to Cloud Coffee, the coffee shop located just down the street from my loft and store.
I picked up my tea, extracted the bag, then blew on the hot liquid within the mug. The sharp, clean scent of peppermint drifted up to my nose, and I breathed it in. If nothing else, it would probably help calm me a bit.
The door to the restaurant opened, and Calvin walked in. He greeted Ingrid, but his eyes were already tracking to the various tables inside and their various occupants.
Until his gaze landed on me.
He walked over to the table, stride purposeful. At once, my heart started hammering away in my chest. What was he doing here? Had he decided that he’d blown it by not talking me up a bit more at the store opening? Was he at The Flatiron because he realized he wanted to ask me out on a date?
Even as I chided myself for allowing those ridiculous thoughts to churn away in my head, he came to a stop next to my table. For someone on a social call, he looked awfully grim.
“Selena Marx?” he said, voice brisker than it had been the night before. Actually, it was downright abrupt.
“Hi, Calvin,” I responded, hoping it was okay to address him by his first name. I knew if I tried to call him “Chief Standingbear,” I’d sound like an idiot.
He didn’t blink. Instead, he withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and slid it across the tabletop toward me. “Do you know this man?”
I looked down at the paper. On it was a fuzzy picture of Lucien Dumond, one that looked as though it had been enlarged from a driver’s license. “Ye-es,” I said, my voice shaky. Cold went over me, and as though from very far away, I heard the harsh squawk of a raven.
No, not from inside the restaurant, or even out in the parking lot. I knew it had come from much farther than that.
A harbinger.
“That’s Lucien Dumond,” I went on, since Calvin hadn’t said anything else, only stood there, looming over my table. “He’s visiting from Los Angeles.”
Face still impassive, Calvin said, “His body was found early this morning.” A pause before he added, “I’ll need you to come with me.”