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“Whatever or whoever did this, I think they have a grudge against you. I can’t pick up more than that, but yeah, it wasn’t human or animal.

I suggest you hire someone to ward your place.

There’s a very talented witch who has a shop called Magical Endeavors.

Her name is Lena. I suggest you talk to her, and while you’re at it, figure out who you’ve pissed off lately.

My guess—somebody hired one of the sub-Fae to come in and tear up the joint. ”

The sub-Fae were the dregs of Fae society, usually nasty tempered and often hiring themselves out as mercenaries to anybody at the right price.

Like goblins, they weren’t welcome in the city, but all you had to do was hang out at one of the SubCult dives around town and you would run into at least one of them.

“Thanks, Ember. I appreciate it. You wouldn’t be interested in taking on the case and helping me out by hiring Lena…and so on?” He was standing too close for comfort.

I backed away a step. “Sorry,” I lied. “My schedule is booked up.” I yawned, pushing past him to return to the front of the shop.

“I’d better get going. I have errands to run before I go home and crash.

” I glanced over at the counter. “Wrap me up a loaf of French bread and a dozen white chocolate raspberry cookies, if you would.”

Ray crossed to behind the counter and fixed my order.

As he handed it to me, our fingers touched.

A familiar spark raced through me, but I ignored it.

I didn’t dare go down that road again, not if I wanted him to be safe.

Besides, I didn’t do clingy well, and Ray had shown definite signs of wanting more from me than I could give.

“How much do I owe you?”

“On the house. And it always will be.”

And with that, I headed back to my car as the morning rush began to trickle in. Overall, Ray was a good guy, and he was alive. I wanted him to stay alive.

* * *

My condo was over in Seattle, in Spring Beach.

At one time, the neighborhood had been suburban—the home of the rich.

But now, it was row upon row of high rises and commercial buildings.

Shiny chrome-and-glass blended in with older brick, making a hodgepodge of urban dwellings.

Parks dotted the neighborhood, replacing the vast swaths of foliage that had surrounded once-massive estates.

My building—the Miriam G Building—overlooked Puget Sound, and the rich colors of cloud and sky and ocean greeted me every morning when I got up.

I lived on the fifteenth floor, in unit 1515.

Every now and then I worried about what might happen should we see another large earthquake like we had some years back, but the buildings in the area had been retrofitted—the ones that hadn’t crashed to the ground—and the newer ones were built to a strict code.

As I parked in the parking garage, it occurred to me that I might want to think about selling the place and buying a house on the outskirts of the city at some point.

The condo was small, around eight hundred square feet, and while I had two bedrooms, my guest room also housed my arsenal of weapons.

I glanced around the dark garage. Even during the day it was spooky.

The building had been built about thirty years ago, and the developer had gone bankrupt.

The bank had repossessed the apartments and sold the Miriam G to another buyer, who had decided to sell them as condos.

Eventually, when I was looking for a place, a unit came up for sale and I bought it.

I’d been living here since I was twenty-five.

It wasn’t fancy, but the view was worth the money, although the area I lived in wasn’t exactly a safe haven.

I slipped out of the car and quickly made my way to the elevator. Luckily, there was nobody else waiting—I didn’t trust all of my neighbors—and within a few moments I was at my apartment door.

* * *

Mr. Rumblebutt was waiting for me. He was a Norwegian forest cat, sixteen pounds with fur that made him look like a giant tribble on legs. He was sitting on the back of the sofa, staring at the front door. When I entered, he let out a disgruntled purp, jumped down, and headed toward the kitchen.

“All right, I know breakfast is overdue.” As I opened the can and put his chunky chicken on the floor, I started to yawn, so tired I could barely think.

I crossed over to the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the Puget Sound and pulled open the curtains.

A wash of daylight broke through the gloom and I leaned against the armchair that looked directly out onto the balcony.

The thought of falling asleep staring at the water sounded good to me, but I knew my back wouldn’t thank me when I woke up.

So I trudged into the bathroom, stripped and, leaving my clothes on the floor, stepped into a hot shower.

I was too tired to wash my hair, so after I finished up, I dragged a brush through it and padded to my bed.

I debated on opening the curtain so I could look out on the water as I slept but decided the light would probably keep me awake.

So I slid under the covers, closed my eyes, and within minutes was dead to the world.

* * *

My phone woke me up. I cracked one eye, rolling over to stare at the clock. It was 2:30 p.m . and I had managed about six hours of sleep. Yawning, I scooted back against the headboard as I grabbed my phone off the nightstand. The Caller ID read Angel, and I quickly punched the talk button.

“Hey, what’s up?” I yawned again.

Angel was my best friend, and I was surprised to see the call was from her.

She seldom called during the day. Texted?

Definitely. But phone calls from her job?

So not approved by her boss. After work, she would go home to take care of her little half-brother.

She had taken in DJ when their mother died, and she was doing her best to make sure he didn’t end up on the streets.

“I’m worried about DJ. I’m afraid something’s happened to him.” She sounded frantic. Angel hardly ever let her nerves get the better of her. If she was worried, something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” I asked, pushing back the covers. Angel and I had each other’s backs, we’d been best friends for years, and if one of us was in trouble, the other one was always willing to come to the rescue.

“Last night he stayed over with a friend. He was supposed to come home this morning, but when I called home from work half an hour ago, he didn’t answer.

I called Sarah—the mother of the boy he was staying with.

She said he left at seven-thirty this morning.

He should have been home by nine, shortly after I left for work.

So I came home and I don’t see any sign that he’s been here.

This isn’t like DJ. You know him. He’s a good kid, and he always lets me know where he is.

I checked my texts, I checked voice messages. Not a word from him.”

“He didn’t have school today?”

“No, today’s a teacher’s day. That’s why I let him stay over last night with Jason.”

I could hear the tears in her throat. DJ was ten years old, and as she said, he was a good kid.

He had been a change-of-life child, and Mama Jackson had conceived him when she was forty-eight.

Mama J. had died a year ago, the victim of a car crash.

Her death had left a hole not only in Angel and DJ’s life, but in mine.

Mama J. had filled the void when my parents were killed.

When Mama J. died, Angel took DJ in and the arrangement had worked out fairly well, although it hadn’t been easy for her. For one thing, DJ was Wulfine—a wolf shifter. Angel was human, and she had no clue how to help him transition through the changes as he grew up.

“I’m on my way over. Meanwhile, call all his friends if you haven’t done so already. Maybe he stopped off somewhere and got busy playing and just forgot.”

Even as I suggested it, I knew it wasn’t true.

DJ wasn’t the type to space out on his responsibilities.

Even when Mama J. was alive, DJ had been a somber child, focused on helping his family.

Angel often told me that he seemed to feel old before his time, although neither of us could figure out what had brought that on. It just seemed to be his nature.

“Thank you.” Angel paused, her voice hushed. “Ember, I have a horrible feeling that he’s in real trouble. You know that most of my premonitions are spot-on. I’m afraid.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” There was nothing else I could say.

As she hung up, I was already sliding into a pair of leather pants.

I fastened my bra and then pulled on a black ribbed tank top.

I jammed my arms in the sleeves of my leather jacket, and then slipped on my ankle boots, zipping them up the side.

I dragged a brush through my hair and then pulled it back into a ponytail.

After kissing Mr. Rumblebutt on the head and filling his dry food dish, I grabbed a chocolate chip breakfast bar and headed back to my car.