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“Hold on! You owe me for the rest of the job.” They had paid me half up front, with the promise of the rest of payment upon proof of job completion.

A sly smile stole over her face. “You can’t prove that you caught him on our land. That could be a picture of any goblin, anywhere. We won’t pay.”

“What the fuck?” I stared at her, trying to comprehend what she was saying.

“You’re actually trying to stiff me? Lady, take a good look.

That’s your shed in the corner of the picture, and one fucking dead goblin.

I came all the way over from Seattle to help you.

I saved your scrawny-assed chickens. I undercharged you.

I sat in your backyard all night guarding your stupid birds.

You are going to pay me for my work.” I glowered, leaning in.

She wrinkled her nose, trying to stare me down. “We never promised.”

“Like hell you didn’t.” I paused, irritated.

I worked on a verbal contract for most small jobs and I stuck to my promises.

Most of my customers stuck to theirs. This was an unwelcome surprise.

“All right,” I said, turning back to the yard.

“You want to do this the hard way? I notice you have a sprinkler system out there.”

I focused, searching through the moisture in the air until I touched on the lines running below the ground.

Forcing as much energy as I could into my thoughts, I coaxed the water to pour through the system, faster and harder until there was a sudden pop .

A geyser of water broke through the soil, gushing into the yard.

“What did you do?” Mrs. O’Malley jumped, pushing past me into the yard. She flailed, glaring at me. “Make it stop.”

“I guess your sprinkler pipe burst. Gee, I wonder what would happen if I found a water elemental to check out the pipes under your house? What if they all froze and then broke?” I probably wouldn’t go that far, but she didn’t have to know that.

The bluff worked.

“All right, all right! I’ll pay you.” She started back inside. “I have to get my purse.”

I pushed inside, close behind her, not about to give her the chance to slam the door on me. “Fine. Cash only, please.”

* * *

Woodinville was part of the Greater Seattle metropolitan area.

Northeast of Kirkland and south of Navane—the city of the Light Fae—for a long time it had flourished as a techie wonderland, but as the tech companies migrated to north Seattle proper, the Eastside eventually became a forested haven, a metropolis of suburbs.

Oh, there was still plenty of crime—for one thing, it was easier to hide given the growth of the forests around and in the cities—but for the lower-income areas, it felt spacious and beautiful.

A Touch of Honey was located on the Redmond-Woodinville Road NE, on the border between Redmond and Woodinville.

As I eased into an empty parking spot a few spots down from the bakery, I leaned back in my seat.

I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open, but I had promised Ray, and I kept my promises.

I slipped out of the driver’s seat of my eight-year-old Subaru Outback and headed into the bakery, where Ray was busy behind the counter. He looked up as I entered and waved.

“You look like hell,” he said. “You’re covered with dried mud.” He paused, then grimaced. “Is that blood?”

I glanced down at my shirt where the goblin had bled on me. One more for the rag bag.

“I took down a goblin this morning. That’s enough work for one day.”

“Nasty business, those little freaks.” Ray was all too acquainted with goblins.

He had a long scar on his leg from where one had tried to take a bite out of him when he interrupted me on a job and my target had turned on him.

It was at that point that I had decided our relationship had run its course.

Before he got himself killed, I broke it off.

I couldn’t face another heartbreak. I had already lost two loves and I felt like I was under a curse.

“There’s been an upsurge in their numbers lately. They always think they’ll beat the odds, and the cops are paying less and less attention to them.” Tired of thinking about goblins, I changed the subject. “You said you have croissants and gouda? And caffeine?”

“Rolls are hot out of the oven. The cheese is fresh and creamy. And the coffee’s hot and strong.”

The bakery was overflowing with a warm, yeasty scent that sent my salivary glands into overdrive.

My stomach rumbled, demanding food. As Ray fixed a tray, I headed over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup of coffee.

I preferred espresso, but caffeine was caffeine and I sorely needed my fix.

And Ray bought quality coffee—Caribbean Dark Roast from the islands.

Adding cream and three sugars, I sat down at one of the tables.

The bakery was fair size, with four tables, each seating three people.

The counter display case was filled with cookies and breads, and I suddenly felt weak-kneed.

I needed food and I needed it now. As if he had read my mind, Ray returned with a tray filled with warm croissants and a small wheel of cheese.

The flesh was a creamy yellow, and my guess was that he had bought it off one of the local farmers who sold homemade cheese at the farmers market.

I glanced around. The bakery seemed unusually empty.

“I don’t see any of your regulars in here,” I said, slicing a thick wedge of cheese off the wheel. I placed it on the plate, and then broke open one of the croissants, inhaling deeply as the warm rush of yeast filled my lungs.

“The regular city crew that normally comes in every morning is apparently filling potholes on the other side of town. I don’t see them until afternoon now. Otherwise, yeah, it’s been a quiet morning. Then again, the rush usually doesn’t start until around seven-thirty or eight.”

Sure enough, even as he spoke, the bells jingled as the door opened and two women entered the shop. I gauged them as both human. Ray excused himself to wait on them, and I busied myself with my croissants and cheese.

I mulled over my schedule, pulling out my day planner to check what was on the agenda for the day. I was scheduled to make a run over to Wesley’s Blades to have him sharpen my dagger. I needed to go grocery shopping unless I wanted to eat cardboard for dinner.

Ray returned to the table, pulling out the chair next to me. Flipping it around, he straddled it and leaned his elbows on the back. He was a tall man, with soft black hair that waved down to his neck. He was also as human as they came. He handed me a hundred and fifty dollars.

“Will this cover the bill for looking over my storeroom?”

I pocketed fifty and handed him back the rest. “You get the friends and family discount.” I suddenly felt awkward. Ray and I hadn’t talked much since we broke up, at least no more than polite formalities. I shifted in my seat.

He seemed to feel it too. “So, are you seeing anybody?”

At least that was an easy answer. I shook my head.

“No. I think I’m better off on my own.” I met his gaze, searching for any signs that he was still angry. “I wish I could tell you why I broke up with you, but Ray, it wasn’t you. At least, not in the way you think.”

He gave me a rueful smile. “After you dumped me, I was really angry. I never wanted to see you again. Then Angel told me about Robert, and about Leland. Anyway, I understand. Thank you, for looking after me.” He lingered over the words, then shrugged.

“I’m still game, if you are. I’ll take my chances. ”

I gave him a long look. “Ray, don’t do this.”

“But we were?—”

“Look, it’s done. Over. Angel told you about Robert and Leland because she’s my best friend and she knew it hurt me to push you away. Please, don’t make it harder than it already has been.”

He let out what sounded like a cross between a sigh and a huff. “Okay. But don’t be mad at Angel for telling me.”

“I’m not. I’m glad she told you about them. I don’t want you to hate me.” With a sigh, I pushed back my chair. The last thing I wanted to do was get into a discussion of my tangled mess of a love life and I wasn’t about to open the door to Ray again. “Okay, let me look at your storeroom.”

Ray frowned, looking like he was going to argue, but then he shrugged and led me into the back.

After he unlocked the door, I saw that the entire room had been trashed.

Flour bags were ripped to pieces, honey jars had been tipped over and smashed and two of the bigger buckets of honey had been slashed. Nothing had been spared.

“Holy crap. Who did you piss off?”

“I have no idea. All I know is that no animal did this. The cops told me it was probably a raccoon. But what raccoon can do this much damage in a short amount of time? And the windows weren’t open.

How did it get in?” He scuffed his shoe on the floor.

“I thought maybe you could pick up on whatever came through here.”

I nodded, taking care not to enter the room, at least not yet. The cops were wrong. This hadn’t been the work of an animal. Nor did the damage feel human in origin. For one thing, Ray was right. The window was intact, so either the vandal had a key or could spell the door open.

I knelt, touching my hands to the floor just inside the door.

Sometimes I could feel when strong emotions had passed through an area.

They imprinted in space, or in the walls of buildings, or rooted into the very ground itself.

Here, the residual feeling of anger hung heavy in the air, anger and… revenge .