Witching Time: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 14

by Galenorn, Yasmine

  They sold eggs, flowers, jams, jellies, and honey that they harvested off their farm, and in the autumn, they sold pumpkins and corn during their harvest fair. Come November, they shifted focus and sold vendor spots to local artisans for the winter holidays.

  “Potpourri for the autumn, cinnamon sticks, pumpkin pie spice, garlic braids for magical protection. Actually, any protection oils and charms you take will probably fly off the table given everybody knows about the dragons. I’m surprised there hasn’t been more panic.”

  Shortly after the announcement there had been an initial surge in hoarding, but people seemed to have gotten comfortable again, and while visits to graveyards were limited to certain hours during which the cemeteries had protection, the majority of people didn’t seem to have made any adjustments to their lives.

  “Good idea. I’ll pack up everything for protection and cleansing that I have.”

  Llew was a handsome man, lean and lanky with a perpetual smile. His hair was silken smooth, braided back to keep it out of his way. He had grown out his goatee into a neatly trimmed beard and mustache and was wearing a pair of purple jeans, an autumn-leaf print shirt, and a pair of sneakers. He was eclectic, for sure. He was also one of the best friends I had.

  “You might want to take some autumn-themed candles,” I added. “You know, spiritual visitation, venerating the ancestors, house cleansing, that sort of thing.”

  “I’ll add those into the mix, along with some orange, yellow, and green tapers.” He glanced over at me. “You have two clients this morning, but I kept this afternoon free as you asked.”

  I read the cards at Llew’s shop a couple days a week and I had a steady clientele. I was accurate and to the point, and I took the time to help my clients decipher how the readings fit into their lives. It led to repeat customers, which was always a bonus.

  My first client was a young woman who wanted to know how her freshman year in college was going to go. The cards predicted she would be a big hit with the geek crowd and ace her studies, and she seemed satisfied by the time we finished.

  The second client was a regular, and he asked the same question he always asked. I was running out of advice to give him. I was also running out of patience.

  Gary was a nervous man who lived alone. In his mid-thirties, he was a homebody and afraid to put himself out there. His idea of a wild time was to have a beer with his pizza. He also worked the night shift as a security guard in a big office building. In other words, the dude barely knew anybody, worked a cockeyed schedule, and desperately wanted to meet a nice woman with whom he could settle down.

  The cards told me pretty much what I could have surmised on my own: If he didn’t get his ass out in public, he wasn’t going to meet anybody. But the thought of going to a bar made him cringe, and when I suggested he join a group that pertained to his side interests, which were birdwatching, reading, and toy poodles, he kept making excuse after excuse as to why it wouldn’t work.

  “Gary, you’re never going to meet anyone if you lock yourself in your house all day. The universe doesn’t just toss women like Mardi Gras beads.” I shuffled the cards and put them aside. The reading had said the same thing the last three readings did.

  “But why won’t the cards tell me what to do?”

  “They have. Three times in a row. They’re telling you the same thing each time because you haven’t got the message through your head yet. I don’t have a different answer for you because there isn’t one.”

  He stared at the table, a glum expression on his face. “But I don’t like going out.”

  “Do you want to find a date?” I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. “Either you get your ass out of your house or you sign up for an online dating service and go out with someone the computer matches you with. Hey, that might be the ticket. Why not give it a try?”

  He frowned. “What if we don’t get along? What if we have nothing in common? What if I just don’t like her—or she doesn’t like me?”

  He was starting to spiral. “Gary, listen to me. Focus.” I held his gaze. “If you don’t like her, you don’t have to go out with her again. If she doesn’t like you, she’ll just refuse a second date. What can you lose, except one evening?” I stared at him, waiting.

  Fidgeting, he finally looked me in the eye. “All right. But I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?” I was getting irritated. I had cut off clients before when they kept coming back, wanting a different answer without doing the actual work.

  He shifted in his seat and finally leaned across the table and whispered, “I’ve only gone out with three women in my life. I’m just…” He blushed and stared at the table.

  I reached across the table and patted his hand. “You’re shy. There’s no crime in that. A lot of people are. But you have a lot of wonderful qualities, Gary. You’re smart, you have a good job, you actually want a relationship instead of just somebody to fu—” As he blushed even deeper I quickly shifted to, “sleep with.”

  “Thanks, Raven. I suppose you’re right. Unless I put myself out there, how am I ever going to find someone? I’m just not sure what to do.”

  I thought quickly. “Let’s get Llew involved. He’ll set you up with a spell to meet someone who’s right for you.”

  As the blush on Gary’s cheeks faded, he gave me a genuine smile.

  I motioned to Llew. “Gary needs a love spell to attract a good match for him. Could you get him set up with something? I’ve got to run. My father’s coming in tonight and I have to go grocery shopping and get home before he meets Kipa without me.”

  While I was certain my father was going to like Kipa, I had a sudden vision of my boyfriend stumbling over his words and blurting out something the wrong way. If I was there, I could smooth the introductions.

  Llew motioned for Gary to follow him. “Come on, let’s go get you situated. Have you ever done any magic at all?”

  Gary shook his head as Llew led him over to the counter. Feeling a little guilty about foisting Gary off on Llew, I gathered my things and slung my purse over my shoulder. Dropping my cup in the recycling can that Llew kept in the shop, I glanced outside. The rain was still thrashing the streets. No matter what, I was going to get soaked on my way back to my car.

  Steeling myself, I pushed open the door and made a run for it.

  Chapter Two

  By the time I reached the grocery store, the traffic had slowed considerably. There were fender benders everywhere. It never failed. The first real rainstorm of the season brought out the dipshit factor, and every year Seattleites—who grew moss on their bodies nine months out of the year—seemed to forget how to drive in the rain. I parked as close as I could to the store and waited for one of the intermittent breaks where the rain eased off to a drizzle before hurrying inside. I had just cleared the doors when the deluge started up again.

  As I grabbed a cart and began working my way through the aisles, I thought about my father’s impending visit. I had left him to come out west and arrived in Seattle thirty-some ago. I moved out of the city proper over to the east side of Lake Washington, to the UnderLake District of Kirkland, five years later to be nearer my fiancé Ulstair. My father had given me the money to pay for my house and I had accepted it without regret. Curikan was a good man, and his gifts never had strings attached.

  He was one of the Black Dogs, the Ante-Fae of legend who appeared as black hellhounds around the world. Curikan was the Black Dog of Hanging Hills back in Connecticut. When a mortal—mostly humans, but sometimes the Fae—encountered him in dog form the first time, his presence brought them luck. But if they should encounter him a second time, it spelled great tragedy and sometimes, death.

  Being the soft-hearted man Curikan was, he dreaded that his presence brought misfortune to others, and so he had become a recluse. When Phasmoria, my mother, left me with him, he kept me entranced with stories and tales, but he never went out, always paying one of the Ante-Fae who lived nearby to take me on outings. PoppyJill
acted as my nanny for a long time, until I could fend for myself.

  As I stared at the brilliant colors in the produce section, I remembered that my father had a fondness for strawberry shortcake, so I loaded up the cart with sponge cake and the last strawberries of the season and whipped cream. I decided to make eggplant parmesan for dinner, and then added breakfast foods, sandwich fixings, ice cream, chips, and just about anything that I could think of that he might like. Finally, I added some cat food as a treat for Raj. I was just rounding the aisle, heading toward the checkout stand, when I heard a familiar voice.

  “Raven? Raven!”

  I stopped and turned to see my neighbor Trefoil standing there, looking at his cart with a forlorn expression.

  “Hey, I see we both had the same idea.” I liked Trefoil and his sister Meadow. My across-the-street neighbors, they worked for LOCK—the Library of Cryptic Knowledge—as investigators, though they were more involved with the paramilitary side of things. The pair were as Irish as they came, and they were part of the magic-born.

  “Yeah, except I have no clue what I’m doing. Meadow asked me to shop for a party we’re having a week from Sunday, but she didn’t say what to get. By the way, you and Kipa are invited. We’d love it if you came.” He flashed me a dazzling smile, his teeth so white they hurt my eyes.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse and brought up the calendar. “A week from Sunday…what time?”

  “Seven-thirty.” He glanced at my cart. “Stocking up?”

  “My father’s coming in tonight for a visit,” I said, tapping in the information. “I’ll be there. I’m pretty sure Kipa can make it, too.”

  “Bring your father if you like,” Trefoil said.

  I shook my head, glancing up at him. “My father’s one of the Black Dogs. Trust me, you do not want to meet him. He would refuse, anyway. He’s very cautious about meeting people because…” I wasn’t sure how much Trefoil knew about the Black Dogs, but he merely gave me a nod.

  “I understand. Humans, magic-born, and Fae alike have to be cautious around them. Where’s he from? Is he from overseas?”

  “Originally from Scotland, but he moved to Connecticut when he was young. He’s the Black Dog of Hanging Hills. Anyway,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone, “I’d better get moving. Here’s an idea—start with chips, dips, veggie trays, deli meats, crackers, fruit platters, cookies, pastries or maybe a cake, wine, sparkling water, and go from there. You can’t go wrong with finger foods.”

  “Thanks,” he said, looking grateful. “I promised Meadow I’d take care of the buffet and then I just blanked. We don’t entertain much.”

  I waved and pushed my cart around his, heading toward the checkout line so the cashier could ring me up.

  As I waited in line, I wondered who would be at their party. LOCK members, probably. The magic-born made me a little nervous, and most of the LOCK members were skilled in their arts. But this seemed like a good chance to network and make connections. And given what was happening with Typhon, we would all need connections in the days to come.

  * * *

  As I opened the door, warily—I was always wary when I came home after being gone for more than an hour any more—a shimmer of light flickered over me. The wards were scanning me to see if they recognized me. I quickly punched in the security code on the actual alarm system, and then placed my hand on the selenite tablet near the Mother-Quartz that sat on the foyer table. With both magical and technical systems appeased, I carried the groceries into the kitchen.

  Raj bounced off the couch and into the kitchen, his head bobbing as he watched me. “Raven’s home!”

  “Yes, Raj, Raven is home. What did Raj do while Raven was—” I stopped, my nose twitching. Raj had a natural scent that was a little musky, but now he smelled like the inside of a perfume bottle. “Raj?”

  He froze, then sat down, eyeing me with that sad puppy-dog look that told me he had gotten himself into something he shouldn’t have.

  “Raj might have taken a bath.” He looked away, trying to act casual.

  “Raj! My lilac rain-shower gel? Did you…”

  Then his words hit me. Raj had taken a bath. I groaned, setting the bags of food on the counter and hurrying to the hall bathroom. Raj loved baths and I was happy to draw them for him, but he wasn’t all that attentive when it came time to shut the water off.

  I opened the door and groaned.

  The bathroom was a mess. There was an inch of water on the floor and bubbles everywhere. The bottle of bath gel was on the floor, empty. The tub had been drained, but it was still full of dissipating bubbles. There were at least six towels on the floor sopping up soap and water. The toilet paper had been pulled off the roll and it, too, was piled in a sodden mess on the floor.

  “Raj…Raj, get in here now!” I turned and marched back into the hall, hands on my hips while I waited for him. He reluctantly obeyed, slowly creeping down the hall. “Look at the mess Raj made! Does Raj remember Raven telling him that he can’t take a bath by himself? That he needs to wait for Raven to fill the tub?”

  “Raj remembers. Raj is sorry.” Head down, he lumbered along, sitting down in front of me.

  “Raj may be sorry, but Raj still made a big mess. And who do you think has to clean up that mess?” Part of me wanted to laugh but I didn’t want to set a precedent. Raj was a massive gargoyle who was only going to get bigger as the decades went on. He needed to learn self-control and he had to learn to obey the rules.

  “Raj tried to clean it up.” He tried the poor-pitiful-me look on me, but it didn’t wash and he knew it.

  “Raj knows that Raven has to clean it up. What does Raj think his punishment should be for breaking the rules?” I never made the punishments too hard, because just the idea that he was being punished seemed to encourage him to behave.

  “Raj no take a bath for the rest of today?” he asked hopefully.

  I shook my head. “No. Raj won’t get his chocolate chip bars tonight. Raven wants Raj to think about what he did and why it was wrong.”

  Heaving a melodramatic sigh that would have put any old glamour girl to shame, Raj nodded. “Raj will be good. Raj is sorry. Raven very angry at Raj?”

  “Raven’s angry, yes, but she’s more upset that Raj didn’t listen to her. Raven wants Raj to follow the rules for good reasons. Someday, Raj’s life may depend on obeying Raven. Someday, Raven’s life may depend on Raj obeying Raven. She doesn’t make up the rules just for fun. What if Raj broke a rule that put Raj in danger? Or put Raven or Kipa in danger?” I wanted him to understand the potential damage that could happen.

  Raj was looking thoroughly defeated by now. “Raven is right. Raj could hurt somebody if he breaks the wrong rule. Raj is really sorry. Raj will be good.”

  I relented then, and knelt to give him a hug. “Raven knows Raj is sorry. Now, why doesn’t Raj go watch TV while Raven cleans all this up?”

  A hint of a smile broke through his gloom and he ambled off back toward the living room. I turned back to the sodden mess and, with a sigh, began to clean the floors and mop up the water and bubbles.

  * * *

  I had put the food away and started the sauce for the eggplant parmesan when my phone rang. Glancing at it, I frowned. It was Tyra Smith, one of my regular clients.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. I wanted to know…I know you do house cleansings and other things like that. I was wondering if you could do something for me?” She sounded worried.

  I frowned. I hadn’t heard from Tyra in about three months, but some clients only needed me every few months—I never encouraged anyone to rely on me more than necessary.

  “What’s up?” I asked as I stirred the sauce and added another pinch of salt. “Did you move? You need a house blessing or a preliminary cleansing?”

  There was a pause and then she said, “No, I didn’t move. It’s just…there’s something going on in my attic. Some sort of ghost or haunt. It’s becoming a pest, and I tried to tell it to le
ave but that just made things worse. Now, the activity has become dangerous. I was hit in the head by an old book when I went up there last night to confront it and tell it to leave.”

  She sounded spooked and I didn’t blame her. Most likely, she had a poltergeist, and to actually be able to throw objects meant it was a powerful sucker.

  “I’m busy tonight, but I can drop by tomorrow. How about two-thirty?” I pulled out my calendar again.

  “That sounds good. I’ll text you my address.” She hung up before I could ask her how long it had been going on, but that I could find out when I got there. I received her text and entered it into her contact data, then finished making the sauce and fixing the eggplant to go into the oven. Finally, I sliced the berries for the shortcakes, popping one of them into my mouth, and then I joined Raj in the living room.

  He glanced up at me as I sat down beside him and draped my arm around his shoulders.

  “Raven not mad at Raj anymore?”

  I squeezed him, kissing him on the forehead. “Raven not mad at Raj. What’s Raj watching?”

  “Nightmare on Zombie Island.”

  Frowning, I leaned forward, watching for a few moments. It seemed like a relatively tame show and when I brought it up on my phone to check I saw that it was rated PG-13. Violence but no explicit gore, some kissing. In other words, it wouldn’t give him nightmares.

  I pulled out my phone again, flipping over to my email. As I was going through, deleting spam and junk mail, a text came through from my father.

  i’ll be there in half an hour.

  As I tucked the phone away, I felt a stir of excitement. It had been a decade or so since I had seen him. I wondered how much I had changed, if any, since we had last seen one another. And how much had he changed? I didn’t expect a difference in looks—the Ante-Fae lived longer than the Fae did—but people could change on the inside far more dramatically than their looks reflected, and I spent the next thirty minutes trying not to think about my father and what he might be like now.