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Rowan led the Crystal Cauldron coven that helped protect the town. We were connected with the Order of the Moon, the paramilitary division of the Court Magika. Every shadow town like Moonshadow Bay had a magical order like ours. We all received communications and direction from the Order, and were expected to obey.
I sobered. If it was official coven business, then it could mean anything. “Of course. I’ll ask Killian if he wants to come, but let’s see… I get home from work around six. How about six-thirty?”
“That works. Plan on having dinner here. I’ll make ravioli. I know you love it.”
“Chef Boyardee?” I swear, my tastebuds were five years old, but I didn’t care.
There was a brief silence and then, a laugh. “How about a little more upscale version? But I promise, you’ll love it,” Rowan said.
“See you then.” I hung up and texted Killian.
rowan and tarvish have invited us over tomorrow night for dinner. i need to go to talk to her about coven business and for a magic lesson. do you think you can make it? tarvish is determined to win a game of pool against you.
Rowan was living with a Funtime demon I had accidentally downloaded from a website. He was the creation of a witchblood dungeon master, who hadn’t realized that her D&D campaign had taken on a life of its own. Tarvish was a special snowflake, all right, but he was good-hearted, loved kittens and crossword puzzles, and was doing his best to fit into suburbia. As long as he stayed in Moonshadow Bay, he had a good chance of assimilating. I didn’t hold much hope for him if he decided to move to a regular city, though, because he looked a lot like Hellboy with actual horns attached.
Killian pinged me back.sure. tomorrow’s a slow day, so i’ll take off early. when do we need to be there?
i told rowan i’d be there at six-thirty. when do you get off tonight? i’m thinking of taking a nap. i have a headache.
i won’t be home till nine tonight. we’re hosting the free spay–neuter clinic this evening from five till eight.
Killian had managed to get all the vets in town to agree to spend one evening a month—three hours—performing free spays and neuters for low-income residents. The program seemed to be a major success. Every slot had been booked in November and December, and they were filling out appointments into January already.
i’m going to nap then. i’ll make dinner when i get up. love you.
love you, too.
I headed into the bedroom where, as soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
I suppose now’sa good time to introduce myself. I’m January Jaxson and I’m a witch. Born of witchblood, I grew up in Moonshadow Bay, but my mother had discouraged me from practicing magic. I hadn’t realized why at the time, but she was trying to save me from a family curse. But the precaution backfired and, as of a couple months ago, I had developed a chronic illness due to the magic backing up in my system for so long.
Even though I had begun practicing again when I moved back to Moonshadow Bay a few years ago, it was too late. My magical wiring, so to speak, had short-circuited and I had developed energy reflux syndrome. Now, I was navigating the murky waters of trying to keep myself as healthy as I could while coping with a chronic condition.
Before I moved home to Moonshadow Bay, I had spent eighteen long years married to a total ass. That is, until he found himself a trophy girlfriend and swindled me out of the business he and I had built. But he went too far, and when he ended up attacking me, he also landed himself a home arrest warrant. Woo-hoo for the karma police!
Unfortunately, in the past few years, I not only lost my business and my sense of self, but my parents had died in a car crash. When I returned to Moonshadow Bay from Seattle, I took over their house. I also found myself a job at Conjure Ink, a paranormal investigations agency, and I fell in love with my new neighbor, Killian O’Connell. Now, two years later, I lived in his house, and we were getting married in ten days on the Winter Solstice.
So that’s my story up till now, sans all the freakshow adventures I’d had, and twisted family history I discovered along the way. Chronic illness or not, I’m truly happy, and while I don’t believe in happily ever after, I certainly do believe in trying to find some form of joy every day.
* * *
Killian wokeme with a kiss when he got home. I yawned, squinting in the dim light. We had installed a bedside lamp that ran on three cycles—dim, moderate, and bright. That way, if I was skirting a migraine, I could manage the dim light while trying to get to bed. It was one of the many modifications I’d made to my life.
“Hey, what time is it?” I asked, yawning.
“It’s eight-fifteen. I thought you might sleep right through, so I stopped to pick up dinner. Hope you don’t mind fried chicken and all the sides.” He kissed me again, then moved away to give me room to get up.
I hated taking naps—I always felt so disconcerted afterward, but it beat having a headache swoop down on me. Luckily, even in my foggy post-sleep haze, I could tell that the one that had been threatening me had backed off. So the nap had been a good thing.
I rolled up, swung my feet over the bed, and stretched. “Chicken sounds fantastic.”
Killian held out his hand as he stood and I took it. He pulled me to my feet. “Go wash up and I’ll set the table.”
“You are truly a dream, you know that?” I said, padding toward the bathroom. “Make me a latte, would you? The caffeine helps me with my headaches.”
“You love that you can drink all the caffeine you want without any of us being able to call you on it, don’t you?” Killian laughed as he headed out of the bedroom.
