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"Nope, not insurance investigators," I said. "Though we are offering a form of insurance today. The kind that keeps your niece from getting killed."
I brushed past her into the house, nearly knocking her off her feet.
"Yes, I'm rude," I said when she let out a squawk of outrage. "And the more times Roni tries to kill me, the worse my mood will get."
In the living room, I stopped and looked around. Boring neutral shades livened up by cushions and pictures in bright, primary colors. Functional, easy-to-clean furniture. A playpen in the corner. Grandchildren? Home day care? The playpen was filled with toys, stashed away between babysitting sessions.
"You can't be here," the woman said. "You're--"
"The wicked witch. So the legends are true. You can recognize us on sight."
I plunked down on the sofa. The woman hesitated in the doorway.
"Come in," I said. "Get comfy. Don't bother offering tea, though. I don't think I'd like your blend."
She stepped in, then glanced at Adam. He stayed where he was, as if guarding the exit.
"You can't--" she began.
"--do this. I know. You're supposed to be the one harassing me." I pointed at the chair. "Sit. Or I'll help you."
She sat.
"Here's the deal," I said. "I want Veronica to stop trying to kill me. Yes, I know, that's your mandate--rid the world of witches--but I'm starting to take it personally."
"Especially since she's never done a damned thing to deserve it," Adam said. "I'm taking that personally. You're lucky she's offering you a deal, because if it was up to me?"
He reached out and touched the edge of the drapes. A puff of smoke, then a lick of flame. The woman gasped and leapt to her feet.
Adam pinched the flame out. "But it's not up to me."
"Stop Veronica," I said. "If you don't, I will--permanently. Then I'll come back here and let him do it his way, and we'll turn the tables on the rest of your clan. Open season on witch-hunters. You've only survived this long because no one believes in you. A few calls from me, and that changes."
"I can't stop Veronica."
"Can't or won't?"
Her dark eyes lifted to mine. "Can't. And if she's trying to kill you, then as much as it pains me to say this, you probably will need to use lethal force to stop her. I wish it could be another way but . . ." She took a deep breath. "It's gone too far for that. She's no longer one of us. I don't think she ever was."
"Meaning . . . ?"
"We don't follow the old ways anymore. Killing witches. We came to realize we were killing indiscriminately, under the misguided presumption that all witches were evil."
"And when did you have this epiphany? Last week? Roni didn't get the memo?"
"Roni wasn't supposed to hunt witches. Yes, when I was her age, I was still expected to follow the old traditions. But my generation decided to change things."
"Ushering in the age of the enlightened witch-hunter?"
"I know you're mocking me, but yes, that's how we see ourselves now. We target only those who use their magic for evil, and even then, we attempt to steer them from their path with nonlethal means."
"Right."
"I can prove it." She got to her feet. "Our files are in my bedroom. May I get them?"
I said she could, then followed her upstairs, Adam right behind us. She opened a locked box in her bedroom closet and took out an account book. Most of the record was only names and dates. Dates of deaths. In the last decade, though, the entries looked more like our case files at the agency. Following up rumors on dark witches and trying to thwart their enterprises through assault and blackmail.
I handed the book to Adam. "If you're still keeping paper files, I'm guessing you don't have a copier or scanner handy."
