What the hell happened out there?
I’d gone over it a hundred times, played it back from every angle… It didn’t make sense. Necromancy wasn’t something that justhappened—it took years of dedicated study and a fondness for the darker arts a thousand miles south of my personal comfort zone.
And if Ihaddone it…
No. I couldn’t go down that road. That road meant living in fear. It meant running, starting over in a strange city, abandoning the people I cared about.
Again.
For the fourth time since I got home, I checked all the doors and windows in the house. I was pretty sure no one had seen me use magic, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
On my way back to the kitchen, I heard Sophie’s keys in the front door.
“About time,” I called out as she stepped into the entryway and kicked off her silver platform heels. She usually beat me home from her shift at Illuminae, the fae club where she tended bar. “Late night with the fairies?”
My familiar teasing brought me back to reality, grounding me. Suddenly the alley felt like a bad dream.
“Don’t even ask.” Sophie dropped her bag on the kitchen table and flopped into a chair, her sequined micromini riding up her thighs. Her normally straight red hair was woven into intricate braids, each one pulsing with light that changed colors as I watched. Whorls of silver, blue, and teal danced across her bare shoulders like a living tattoo of the sea.
The fae loved their parlor tricks.
Sophie caught me staring and looked down at the oceanic designs undulating across her freckled skin. “It’ll wear off soon.”
“As if you don’t love to sparkle.”
She shrugged, a cute smile lighting up her face. “Sparkleismy color.”
I returned the smile, my body relaxing further. “All you need is a unicorn, and you’re all set.”
“If Kallayna thought it would bring in more business, she’d make it happen.” Sophie slid her fingers into her hair, trying but failing to unravel the braids. “How wasyournight?”
I took the seat across from her and blew out a breath. Guilt and fear sat heavy on my shoulders, but I didn’t want to get into it with her—not until I was certain whatitwas.
From a basket at the center of the table, I picked out one of the beach rocks Sophie had painted, a black palm-sized stone decorated with a red-and-purple mandala design. On the other side, she’d paintedjust breathein white script.
Rubbing my thumb over the smooth paint, I was so focused onjust breathingthat I’d forgotten my face looked like I’d gone six rounds with a sledgehammer.
Sophie gasped. “What happened toyou?”
“Some guy jacked me on the last delivery.” I set the stone back in the basket and pulled my hair forward, covering the messed up part of my face.
“And?”
“And nothing.” I waved away her concern. “Chased him off.”
Sophie reached across the table and grabbed my hand, scrutinizing me from behind several layers of shimmery blue eyeshadow. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Gray Desario, you are completely full of shit.”
“Nah.” I jerked my hand from her grasp and headed to the sink to put the kettle on. “Onlyhalffull of shit. The other half is pure liquid sunshine.”
Sophie grunted. “Doesn’t feel like sunshine to me. It feels like magic.”
Sophie could sense energies from touching people or objects—emotions, motivations, intentions, things like that. She said it was like her intuition dusting for psychic fingerprints. The more intense or traumatic the situation, the stronger the vibe. It meant that all of our furniture came from Ikea—thrift store finds had too much history.
It also meant she was a human lie detector.
She pulled a deck of Tarot cards from her purse and began to shuffle. “Start talking.”
I took our mugs out of the dish drainer and righted them on the counter next to the stove, then rummaged through our basket of teas. “Dreaming of Chamomile, Lavender Honey Sweetness, Chocolate Bliss, or Merry Mint?”
