Chapter One

The witch’s house looked like any other on the block. A square two bedroom place that had seen better days. Sage green paint was peeling in places and one of the gutters had come loose, sagging and filled with rotting leaves. Shades were drawn across the windows and the small covered porch was clear of any toys or shoes. In fact, it didn’t look like anyone was living there, let alone the family of five I had been told had been in residence up until several nights ago. On the afternoon of November 15^th, a neighbor reported seeing an unfamiliar man hanging about the house. Then later that evening, several others said they had seen a flash of bright green light coming through several of the windows. Upon hearing this, the small cartoon version of myself that lived inside my head had grown a fabulous beard and stroked her chin contemplatively. After a moment of this, we both agreed that something was, indeed, amiss.

            I pulled my woolen coat more tightly around myself and stamped my feet in an effort to warm up. Meteorologists had told Portland residents to expect temperatures in the low fifties, but my car had told me the temperature had dropped to bellow freezing. Lying b******s.

            Part of me wanted to say screw the house and go home to warm up with a cup of coffee and a piece of hot apple pie, but the other part urged me to just take a little peak. I blame my mother and her side of the family for this.

            “Ah, hell,” I muttered, then walked purposely up to the house and knocked on the front door. In my experience, if you look like you know what you’re doing or that you belong, people won’t question you. However, it would be embarrassing if the family turned out to be home and I walked in on them eating breakfast.

            “Mrs. Howard,” I called and followed that up with another solid couple of knocks.  When no one answered, I pulled out my picks and had the door opened a moment later. Without glancing around to see if anyone was watching, I entered the house, my nostrils flaring unconsciously. The house smelled cold. No one had been filling it with happy house smells for several days. Carefully, I looked around what appeared to be the main living area. A worn brown sofa sat in front of a TV, clear indentations in the cushions where people had sat. A few stuffed animals and blocks were scattered around on the floor, though in the haphazard way that children leave them, not in the oh-s**t-we’re-being-attacked-run sort of way that things get scattered. My eyes scanned the rest of the room, looking for any sign of disruption. I found nothing. It looked for all the world that the family had simply packed up and gone on a very sudden vacation. Without telling anyone. The same night strange men and flashing lights are reported. Right.

            I stepped further into the house, wary of any left over spells the witch may have left to protect her home from intruders. While hedge witches aren’t very powerful in terms of raw magical mojo, they can do some nasty stuff with a few herbs and a mortar. When nothing tried to eat my face off, I breathed a bit more easily and moved into the next room, the kitchen. It was much in the same way as the living room. It looked as if the family had just vanished. Dishes were still in the sink and dry rack. I noticed a cup of white liquid and leaned over to smell it, then recoiled from the smell of spoiled milk.

            The rest of the house was the same as the first to rooms. Completely undisturbed, but totally abandoned. If it had been any sort of creature or being, I might not have passed up the theory that they simply decided to move on without any warning. Most get spooked pretty easily. But hedge witches were different, especially ones with families. They’re nesters and if they felt threatened, they would choose to fight any battle on their home turf. A family like the Howards wouldn’t run. But even if there had been a fight, there wasn’t any evidence of it. Usually fights involving mortals and not mortals ended bloody. Like blood running down the halls Shinning style bloody. Either the baddy had one hell of a sunshine cleaning operation going or Mrs. Howard and her family had simply laid down and surrendered.

            Chewing absently on my fingernail, I returned to the living room. I wasn’t really looking anymore, just letting my eyes wander as I considered the situation. That was probably why it took me a second longer to notice something I should have when I first came into the room. I froze and my eyes focused on the spot where the walls met the ceiling at the far corner of the room. Moving slowly, I approached it, eyes narrowing until I stood just beneath the corner, my head craning upwards to see better. A few strands of gossamer thread still hung there, a patch of spider web that Mrs. Howard had overlooked. But what had my eyes narrow even further was the spider dangling from one of the threads. Its little body was curled in on itself, dead and dried. My lips pursed and I re-searched the house, looking for anymore insects. The few I found were all dead, just like the spider.

            I retraced my steps to the living room and gave it a final glance around. The hairs on my arms had begun to stand on end and I didn’t think it was because of the cold. The house had been giving off a growing sense of malice and I had the sudden urge to throw myself from the nearest window and run screaming down the street. Something was very wrong here.

            Without giving any sign that I was alarmed, I turned and left, locking the front door behind me. Then, with sure steps, I returned to my car, waiting until I had it started and was several blocks away before I let out the breath I had been holding.

*****

            My apartment was above a bar called Sol’s. The building was old brick with ivy crawling up the walls and there was always the faint smell of cigarette smoke and cinnamon in the air. Most of the time, the heater or ac didn’t work and my water changed from hot to cold on a whim. I loved the place. It was cozy and the perfect place to curl up with several comforters and a good book. I parked in the garage several blocks away and left the comforting warmth of my car to dash back to Sol’s, pulling my scarf up over my nose. Since visiting the house, the temperature had dropped another couple of degrees and a biting wind had sprung up, its teeth passing though my coat as if it weren’t there.

            Sol’s was a local secret and we did our best to keep it that way. It had good beer, an ancient jukebox, and the best pie anyone could ask for. Most of the regulars were at least passingly aware that there were things going on that were outside the range of normal so we could be more open with our conversations without fear of being overheard.

            I pushed open the door and reveled as a wave of heat washed over me, coming mostly from the fireplace in the far corner. Several of the booths were filled with people, smiling and chatting, glad to be out of the cold and in good company. All of the faces were familiar and I knew most of them by name. I nodded at a jinn I had helped several months earlier. A couple of pixies had stolen a box from him, and while I had found it, he had refused to tell me what was in it and why he had been so relieved to get it back.

            Sol himself stood behind the bar, pulling a pint for a young woman. Judging by the charms hanging around her neck and the sprig of holly she had woven into her long blond hair, I guessed she was a new dabbler, looking to get out from under a roof that frowned on the occult. She smiled flirtatiously at Sol, winding a piece of hair around her finger and batting her eyes outrageously. I rolled my own eyes before sliding on to a bar stool several seats down. I had nothing against new beginners, but it was hard for me to take anyone seriously who had mixed and matched amulets from Celtic and Pictish cultures.

            Sol noticed me as I sat and politely excused himself from talking to the young woman. He leaned on the bar, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a black apron tied around his hips. He had broad, powerful shoulders, narrow hips, and a mop of dark curls that fell over his forehead in soft waves. His nose looked as if it had been broken several times but it went well with his strong jaw line and two day growth on his chin.

            “Any luck,” he asked, voice deep and vaguely gravelly.

            I frowned and pulled off my mittens, tossing them on the counter. “Bupkis on anything solid.”

            “But you think something went down?” Without having to ask, Sol poured me a cup of coffee and slid it over the counter, along with a plate of still warm apple pie he had produced out of nowhere.

            I took a sip of the first and a bite of the second, savoring the flavor. “I don’t know,” I said, removing my hat and jacket and putting them on the chair beside me. “There was definitely some major spookage, but nothing I can put my finger on.” I took another bite of pie and Sol waited for me to finish before asking me another question.

            “Do you think the Fae are involved?”

            I snorted. “When aren’t the Fae involved?” Then I shook my head and sighed. “But this didn’t feel like them.” I looked up at the bartender and he met my gaze levelly with dark eyes. “There was nothing living in that house, Sol,” I said quietly. He cocked his head. “Spiders, flies, even a few dead bees. What can spirit away an entire family and leave everything else dried little husks?”

            Sol rubbed his chin. “I couldn’t tell you. I could ask the council for information…” He trailed off, clearly not excited about the prospect. Sol didn’t exactly get on well with the rest of his people.

            A couple of centuries ago, the Church had decided they had had it with fairies and witches running amok and decided to do something about it. In the end, what they came up were gargoyles. Their soldiers were strong, fast, and absolutely deadly to anything they were pointed at. Even worse for those that weren’t totally kosher was the part of a gargoyle’s power that allowed them to look human when they weren’t imitating statues. It was nearly impossible to tell a gargoyle was a gargoyle until they went stony and took off your head. Sol was one of these soldiers, and I had gathered that he was a very good until he had abandoned his holy duty to move to the west coast and open a bar. He had never told me why he had left and I never asked.

            I waved away the idea. “No offense, but I think going to your family would probably do more harm than good. I don’t really need the Spanish Inquisition for a simple missing persons case.”

            “But nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Sol said, without any amount of sarcasm in his voice, his face completely deadpan.

            I grinned. “Good point.” Resisting the urge to start a Monty Python quote battle, I refocused on the case and sobered. “I suppose tonight is research night. Any interest in helping?”

            The gargoyle shrugged. “It’s not as if I have much else to do.”

            “Oh, thanks,” I said dryly, then finished off my coffee and slice of pie. I looked around and noticed several diners with finished plates Sol hadn’t had a chance to pick up. “You want me to bus for a bit? I’m not quite ready to dive in.”

            “Sure. Tom called in sick this morning, so it’s just been me.” Sol tossed me an apron, which I tied around my waist. Storing my coat, hat, and gloves under the bar, I picked up a tub and began collecting dirty dishes. I exchanged pleasantries with most of the customers, nearly all of them remarking on the unusual cold snap. I agreed that, yes, it was very odd, and yes, we should all bundle up before we go outside. Beverly, an elderly witch, tapped the side of her nose when I picked up a plate that had once held a pulled pork sandwich.

            “Bad things are in the air, dearie,” she whispered and pulled out a charm of some long forgotten goddess. “I keep Namu close to my heart these days. She keeps me safe.”

            I nodded and smiled politely, then moved on, trying not to over think her words. Witches always thought bad things were in the works. They were notorious pessimists. Just because Beverly said bad things were here didn’t mean she actually knew what she was talking about. Shaking my head, I took the now full tub of dished back to the kitchen and began washing them. I found the entire process soothing, the warm water banishing the last of the cold that had lingered in my bones. The chore allowed my mind to wander aimlessly, trying to connect this morning’s events to something that made any amount of sense. By the time I had finished with the dishes I had only come to one conclusion. If I didn’t find anything tonight, I would be obligated to call my mother.

*****

            A few quick raps on the door brought my head up, the room blurry for a moment before my eyes could adjust. Sol looked up as well from where he was hunched over a heavy tomb at my desk. He shot a glance at me when there was another knock. His eyes asked if I was expecting anyone. I gave him a quick shake of my head, my hand strayed towards my pocket where I kept my switch blade.

            “Calm down, Hana,” a woman’s voice said from the other side of the door, sounding amused if slightly exasperated. “It’s just me, so need to go for your knife.”

            I set aside my book and rose, taking a moment to stretch before going to open the door. A woman a couple of inches taller than me stood on the other side, a curtain red hair falling to her waist in starlet waves.

            “Carly,” I said, surprised to see her, thought I really shouldn’t have been. Carly had some Fae blood from way back, giving her a fabulous head of hair and some precognizant abilities.

            She pushed past me and into my living room. She grinned at Sol, then spun to face me, her arms opening wide. “I’m here to help.”

            Sol and I traded looks, then I turned back to Carly. “Ah-well…” Carly had the attention span of a gnat and would prove more distraction when she got bored than an asset.

            She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t serious, Hana, but I’m a little hurt that you wouldn’t even think about accepting my offer.”

            “Sorry, but you know how you are.” I returned to my spot on the floor, a clear area surrounded by books, both ancient and contemporary. I sat, cross legged and looked up at her. “Why are you here?”

            She suddenly looked hesitant and bit her lower lip.

            “Carly?”

            “Maybe we should talk, you know, in private.” She shot a glance at Sol, who looked between both of us, then shrugged and rose.

            “I’ll go down to the bar and grab pie and coffee.”

            I grinned at him. “You’re a saint, you know that?”

            “You just like me because I give you pie.”

            “And that’s a bad thing?”

            He chuckled and left, closing the door behind me and leaving me and Carly alone. She sank to the ground in front of me and pulled out a deck of tarot cards. I groaned. “No. For the last time, you cannot do a reading for me.”

            “Please, Hana.” The woman looked at me, all signs of her previous levity gone. “I think something big is coming,” she said quietly.

            I started, the words eerily similar to Beverly’s. “Something big?”

            “And bad… very, very bad.” The precog shivered and fiddled idly with a bangle on her wrist. “I’ve been having these dreams.”

            “Dreams?”

            “I’m somewhere that’s totally dark, like I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. It’s just nothing for a while and then I realize there’s something in the dark with me.” She leaned closer, her eyes widening. “Something’s hunting me.”

            “Sounds like just a nasty nightmare to me,” I said, trying to be glib. In all honesty, first Beverly now Carly telling me something nasty was up and coming, paired with the events at the Howard house, had my hackles up.

            Carly shook her head, her hair falling over one eye. “No. I know nightmares. These aren’t nightmares.” She looked up at me. “Please, let me do a reading for you.”

            “Why now,” I asked, crossing my arms.

            “Because you’re in my dreams too.”

            I paused, then frowned. “In what capacity?”

            “It changes every time,” Carly said slowly. “Sometimes you’re just standing next to me, sometimes I can hear you talking. And sometimes…” She trailed off and looked down at the ground.

            “What is it?” I asked, trying to hide my impatience.

            She seemed to steel herself then met my eyes. “And sometimes you’re the hunter.”

            My frown deepened. “You think I’m going to be tied up in whatever’s coming?”

            She nodded then set the cards down. “Just one reading.”

            I sighed. “Fine.”

            Carly seemed to brighten a bit. “Please cut the deck,” she said. I did so and she restacked the cards, then set them in front of me again. Carefully, she fanned out the deck between us. “Please pick three cards.” I picked one from one end, one from the other, and one from the middle. Carly restacked the deck, then took the cards from me. Almost reverently, she laid them out beside one another. “Ready?”

            “Let’s get this over with.”

            She flipped over the card on the furthest left, the one representing my past. A dark tower set against an even darker sky embossed the front of the card. The flames coming from the windows were the only color. Carly’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve seen tragedy,” she said. “A terrible end to a part of your life.”

            My face closed. “Weren’t you focusing on my future?”

            “It’s all part of the process. The future cannot exist without the past and present.” When I gave her a hard look she sighed and continued, flipping over the card that represented my present. It was a upside down. A woman in blue, sitting on a high-backed chair smiled beatifically out at us. One side of the card’s background was white, the other was black.

            Carly cocked her head. “You need to listen to your intuition. There are higher powers at work here and you need to be able to trust yourself. Change is coming.”

            “Well that’s lovely and totally vague,” I grumbled, but the girl ignored me, flipping over my final card, my future. It clearly showed a knight in full armor on a pale horse, carrying a black banner. What had Carly sucking in a sharp breath was the grinning skull that looked out from between the helmet’s visor.

            “So, I’m going to die,” I said dryly, after a moment.

            Carly shook her head. “Not necessarily. Death can be a good thing. It can mean change, which would make sense since you pulled the High Priestess for you present,” she babbled, her eyes still fixed on the card.

            “But you don’t believe that,” I said, leaning back on my hands. “You see Death, in the very literal sense.”

            Carly suddenly rose, gathering her cards. “It’s just a couple of stupid cards,” she said. “It’s not like they really mean anything.”

            “Sure.”

            Carly stuffed the cards back in her jacket pocket then gave me a little head nod. “Don’t worry about it, Hana. These things can be really vague and it’s really hard to interpret them right.”

            “I’m not worried,” I said. “I’ve been told I’m going to die one too many times to be worried.”

            Sol opened the door then, startling Carly, making her jump and let out a small squeak. “Sorry,” he rumbled. As he came into the room, the smell of dark coffee and apple pie came with him.          

            I waved a hand at Sol. “See, how can something go wrong when I have pie and coffee?” I asked Carly, who pressed her lips more tightly together.

            “I have to go,” she said, idly fiddling with a long strand of her hair. With a final tight smile at me then Sol, she left, her footsteps hurried and movements jerky.

            Sol raised an eyebrow at me. “That bad?”

            I lay back and stretched my legs out. “Probably.”

            “Did she do a reading for you?”

            I wobbled my head back and forth, hesitant to answer.

            “Hana?”

            Lifting my chin to my chest, I stared at him over my toes. If anyone could provide sense, it would be Sol. “She saw death in my future. Death and change.”

            The gargoyle rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on a spot behind me. “Death doesn’t always mean death,” he said finally.

            “That’s what Carly said.”

            “But?”

            “But the moment she turned that card, her face went white.” I sat up. “I don’t think I can take that any other way.” 

            Sol sighed and rested against my desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “What are you going to do?”

            “Party,” I said and grinned. “And eat pie.”

            “Not a bad way to live.” Sol gave me a piece of pie and another cup of coffee and we both settled back into our spots, silence falling around us like a soft blanket.