Ineeded a jeweler to fix my necklace but had no idea where to find one I could trust. So, lucky man that he was, I called Owen. The phone rang a few times and then went to voicemail. Not one to be foiled that easily, I called back.
“What?” Owen’s voice was both slurred with sleep and annoyed as hell. It was impressive.
“Morning, Sunshine!”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Sorry, sorry. Don’t hang up. I need your help.” I heard the sounds of movement and then another deeper voice grumbling. Damn. Owen’s date stayed over, and I’d just woken both of them up. “Super sorry!”
“What do you want, Sam?” He sounded a little more awake, which was good.
“Okay, two things: I need you to work late tonight because Dave and—”
“Are you seriously waking me up at…4:58 in the morning to discuss my work schedule? Hanging up now.” Less sleepy, more pissed.
“Wait! Please, Owen. That’s not the main reason I called. I was just easing you into the conversation. And I’ve been up for hours pacing, waiting until a decent hour to call and this was as decent as I could get. I almost died last night. Twice actually. Dave thinks a demon is involved in the attacks, so we’re meeting with a succubus tonight to try to get info. That’s why I need you to stay late. The main reason I’m calling, though, is to ask if you know a good, reliable jeweler who can work with a very important piece of jewelry.”
Silence reigned.
“Are you still there?”
“Run that back. A demon tried to kill you. Twice. What the hell did you do?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Seriously, they acted like I made a habit of calling up demons and them jabbing them with forks.
“Honey, are you okay?” Aww, there was my Owen.
“Rattled but fine. So, can you stay late?”
“I have a date, but…” Low voices rumbled. “Yeah, sure.”
“Any jewelry store recommendations?”
“Send her to my family’s shop. My sister will look out for her,” the deeper, grumbly voice said, and Owen murmured his agreement.
“Go to Drake’s Treasures on Marina Boulevard at Beach. It’s near the East Harbor. Little place in an art deco building.”
“Great. Thank you. Go back to sleep now.” After hours of sitting in the bar, not knowing if my thoughts were truly my own and checking my wards obsessively, it was good to have a plan. I’d get the necklace fixed today and question a demon tonight.
“We’re awake now.”
“And think of all the lovely things you can get up to now that you’re both awake.” I heard deep chuckles as the phone went dead.
Waiting until the shops opened involved more hours of stress pacing. At nine, I ventured into the city, exhausted and jumpy. My hand strayed again and again to the front pocket of my jeans. Feeling the reassuring lump helped me to relax for a few minutes before I was compelled to check again. I had no idea if I was right—that the necklace had been spelled to protect me—but as Mom had told me never to take it off and when I had I was attacked by the Kraken, it seemed like a good idea to put it back where it belonged.
San Francisco was my home now, but being out in the open, especially this morning, made me uneasy. Owen liked to tease me about hiding in my hobbit hole, but in comparison to the safety and predictability—until recently—of The Slaughtered Lamb, the world could be overwhelming.
The jasmine-scented sunrise of the Marina District had me striving for calm and normalcy. There. Just as Owen had said. A jewelry store occupied the corner of a beautifully maintained Art Deco building. The plaque hanging over the shop’s door said the jewelers had been in business since 1906.
A brass bell chimed as I entered. The shop was dark and quiet. The carpet, a threadbare velvet in a fading cobalt blue, showed the traffic pattern from the door to the middle case and then down the row to each of the other cases. The walls were papered in a silver and gray Deco floral pattern. The dark wood display cases were glass-fronted and topped. A large crystal chandelier hung from a center medallion in the ceiling, illuminating the cases, sparkling off the glass, yet leaving the work area behind the counters dim.
Hand straying to my pocket again, I approached the center display case. It was filled with antique wedding ring sets. A bittersweet tug had me crouching down for a better look. They were unbelievably intricate, these shining reminders that love and fidelity were a timeless reality for some.
“Getting married?”
I jumped out of my skin before a warm hand patted mine, keeping me from tipping backward. I shot up and pulled my hand away. The touch hadn’t frightened me, but I still didn’t like it.
“What?”
A woman, no more than a hair’s breadth taller than me, with brown skin, long, curly black hair, and bright hazel eyes watched me. A worn, red flannel shirt strained at her broad shoulders. She exuded a preternatural calm, and I would have bet every penny in my anemic bank account that she wasn’t human.
“Shopping for wedding rings?” Her expression remained neutral, but I could see her chest expand. She was breathing in my scent, no doubt trying to determine what I was.
“No. No. I’m just—no.”
“That was a lot of denial in a few short words.” A corner of her mouth kicked up. “I don’t blame you. Not for me either. So, if not rings, how can I help you?”
I reached in my pocket but paused. Should I give my necklace to an unknown supernatural to work on, even one recommended by Owen? Someone was trying to kill me, and this woman had an odd reptilian scent.
“Trust is an issue, huh?” Nodding, she pulled over a stool and sat. “I’m Coco, at your service. Now, as you’re a female wolf living in our fair city—if your scent is any indication—I’d guess you were Sam, owner and proprietor of The Slaughtered Lamb.” Winking, she asked, “How’d I do?”
“You’ve never been in The Slaughtered Lamb. I’d remember.” She had a calming presence that helped to quell my nerves.
“Thank you for the compliment, and no, I have not. I gave up drinking years ago, and I read on my tablet. My brother knows someone who works there, so I’ve heard all about it.” Leaning back, demonstrating excellent strength and balance, she picked up a coffee cup from the shadowy desk behind her.
“Can I touch your hand again?” Sometimes I got quick impressions of people when I touched them. Sometimes.
She held out her hand to shake mine. She had a strong, warm grip. The image of fire in a dark cave flitted in and out of my mind. Scales undulated on a massive body, wings stretching out and obliterating the light. It didn’t frighten me. On the contrary, it filled me with a sense of longing and comfort. Pulling the necklace out of my pocket, I decided that and the fact she was Owen’s beau’s sister were as good of an assurance as I was going to get.
I placed the pendant on the glass counter for her to see. Tilting her head, she stared at it for a moment before picking it up and placing it in the palm of her hand, closing her fingers over it.
“What have we here?” she mumbled to herself.
I watched, waiting. Her eyes took on a speculative light as she tilted her head further. It was as if she was listening to the necklace.
“Who made this for you?” She reached for one of my hands, and I let her take hold of it. I guessed she needed a connection to me in order to read the necklace properly. Or she just wanted to hold my hand. As it felt nice, I let it go.
“My mother. When I was a child.”
Nodding, her chest expanded again. “This is the first time you’ve taken it off?”
“Yes.”
Opening her hand, she studied the pendant. “She used protective stones. Each one of these—black tourmaline, labradorite, fluorite, black obsidian, blue kyanite—has been spelled separately and then again as a whole to cloak you and keep you safe.”
“Spelled?” I shook my head. “My mom wasn’t a wicche.”
Raising her eyebrows, her gaze traveled from the pendant back to me. “The necklace says different.
Even the chain has been spelled,”Coco’s expression softened. “What do you need me to do?”
“I fell in the ocean yesterday—”
“Fell?” The hand that held mine, gripped me harder.
“That’s the story I’m going with.” I pulled my hand out of hers and continued. “An e—something got caught around my neck in the water. When I tugged it off, I accidentally ripped the necklace off as well. I need the clasp fixed. Can you do that? Repair and clean it without stripping the spells.”
She nodded. “It’ll take some work. The clasp is easy enough, but I can’t do anything that works against the spells or the necklace might fight me. If it lets me, I’ll try to strengthen what I can.”
“Thank you.”
She studied the broken chain again. “She soldered it closed.” She studied me a moment. “What’s been happening since you took it off?”
Staring down at the wedding bands, I shrugged. “Nothing good.”
Making a sound of understanding in the back of her throat, she studied me. “I can fix it for you, but it will take time.”
I started to protest, but she stopped me by wrapping her hand around mine again.
“I’m feeling—” Shaking her head, she stared at our joined hands, dark and light. “I don’t know what this is I’m feeling, but I think…being without it is a danger to you. I can push back my other jobs and start on this now, but it will take a few hours.”
“Oh,” I sighed in relief. “Sure. I can handle a couple of hours.”
“I have a backroom.” She gestured over her shoulder. “You could wait there while I work.”
I thought about how often my fingers strayed to the lump in my pocket this morning. “Can I stay and watch? Will it bother you to have me in your workroom?” I didn’t want that necklace out of my sight.
“Sure. Drag my desk chair in. Can you flip the closed sign, turn the lock? This is going to take concentration. I can’t stop halfway through.” Coco went into a back room and wiped down her worktable, chanting something under her breath. Magic filled the air as she pulled my necklace from her pocket and placed it in the middle of her workspace.
Holding her hands over the necklace, eyes closed, she sang an atonal song in a language I didn’t recognize. It sounded ancient and called to mind bonfires and circle dances, long hair swinging in the moonlight while the fair folk presided.
I hadn’t realized that my eyes had drifted closed until her song changed, rousing me from a doze. I checked the wall clock. She’d been at it over an hour. Sweat clung to her forehead and neck. I needed caffeine if I was going to stay awake for the repair, and she needed some water. I didn’t want to interrupt her, so I quietly left the workroom, stepped out of the shop, and went in search of cold drinks.
Delicious smells wafted down the sidewalk from the open door of a coffee house. I followed the scent and found myself standing in front of a large green menu board advertising too many kinds of beverages, hot and cold alike. I got Coco a big bottle of water, myself a soda, and both of us a brownie. The woman had already earned an entire pan of brownies and she wasn’t even done yet.
A few minutes later, I was back in the brisk, morning air, walking across the street toward the water. I needed a minute before going back into that workroom or I’d nod off again. Taking a gulp of soda, I watched a boat motoring out of its slip and into the bay. The morning was glorious, with clear blue skies and steel green water. Boats bobbed and people wandered the docks. An iridescent dragonfly zipped through the long grass at the edge of the water.
Hackles rising, I realized what it was I was smelling. Wolf! I spun, trying to locate the scent. Shit. I’d had no contact with other wolves for seven years and now two in less than a day? What were the odds? When I needed to change every month, I used the Presidio or the redwood forests in the North Bay. I was always cautious, making sure never to tread near a pack’s territory. A lone wolf, especially a female, was anybody’s meat.
That necklace had been off my neck for less than ten hours and the hits just kept coming. I scanned the street, breathing in the scents of the Marina. Trying to locate the wolf, I eased back in the direction of the jewelry shop. A man walked out of the coffee shop I’d just left, tilting his head, scenting the wind. His eyes unerringly found mine, and I froze. Jogging across the street, he kept me in his sights. I itched to run but knew if I did, I’d become prey.
“Morning,” he said, standing too close. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” He glanced around before stepping even closer, his voice low. “I’m visiting and having a hell of a time trying to locate your boss so I can get permission to be here. I can’t scent the pack territory, and you’re the first wolf I’ve run across.” He scanned the street again. “Can you give me your alpha’s name and number, or better yet, as I’m trespassing, can you call and ask him where he wants me to meet him?”
A lie. I felt it in my bones. Something he said wasn’t true, but I didn’t know which part. I didn’t think he was an immediate physical threat, but he was a liar. The scent was wrong, though. This wasn’t the wolf who’d chased me last night. Maybe, though, he was the one cutting up women and dumping them in the bay.
Tall, he had dark, curly hair, light brown eyes, and dimples. Too many years of reading Jane Austen had taught me to be suspicious of overly attractive men. He was a werewolf, after all. Savage was in the DNA.
“There’s no pack in San Francisco.” When he stared at me in confusion, I elaborated. “There’s one in the North Bay, near Bodega Bay, and one in the South Bay, in the Santa Cruz Mountains.” I inched away. “Not sure if the East Bay has one.”
He put a hand on my arm, and something dark and predatory stalked toward me in my mind. “No pack? You’re on your own?”
A deep growl rumbled through my chest. He did not get to put his hands on me.
Holding his hands up in surrender, he smiled, dimples flashing. “No offense intended.”
I straightened my spine. “What I am or am not is none of your concern.” I’d been warned, as a lone female wolf, males would look at me as fair game. He needed to know upfront that I wasn’t a victim waiting for the next asshole to do his best.
He reached out again, gesturing toward the bench. “Sit with me.”
“No.” Hands fisted, I studied his body language, looking for the tell-tale tension in his muscles, letting me know he intended to strike. “I’m leaving now. Don’t follow me.”
Brown eyes scanned me leisurely from head to toe. “I like your city. I might stick around for a while. You wouldn’t mind a little company, would you?” Sitting on the bench, he patted the seat next to him. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s get to know each other.”
I bared my teeth, a growl vibrating in the back of my throat.
He considered me. “Afraid? I won’t hurt you,” he said, with a gleam in his eye.
Ignoring the comment, I moved away, not willing to turn my back on another predator.
He stood, following me. “Don’t leave. It’s Sam, isn’t it?” He scratched the stubble on his jaw, watching me. “I’ve been looking for you.” His gaze snagged on the scar I couldn’t cover with t-shirts, the one that crawled up the side of my neck. He reached out a finger, as though intending to trace it. “I’ve heard all about you.” Predatory eyes found mine as his lips curled into a satisfied smile.
Rage consumed me. My body—my scars—were none of his business. He had no right to me. I’d said no and been ignored. “Back the fuck off,” I growled.
Fear flashed in his eyes, there and gone, but he retreated. He sat back down on the bench, his affable smile back in place.
I turned and walked across the street.
“Oh, and Sam?” he called after me. “We’re not done.”