It was a weird thing. She was used to taking care of her basic needs after years of self-sufficiency, but she still wasn’t used to taking care of anything beyond that. She always had rent and phone money, and enough for food, but the rest of it? Meh. Anything beyond pure survival just slipped off her radar. The coven had been working on her, but she had to choose to take care of herself.

  She knew that.

  Just like she was coming to know that it was normal to have conflicting desires. Everyone had that, apparently, which had been news to her. Her desire to hole up and be left alone to be as small as she felt was always going to be at war with her desire to feel the way she felt when she did magic. Or when she was around the coven. Powerful. Strong. Not invincible, but centered and certain.

  She felt freer then, too. More like the person she wanted to be. Not the doofus who blushed and stammered around beautiful women.

  Her feet were feeling better but now the rest of her was cold. She pulled a hoodie on over her pajamas, scratched Graymalkin’s head, and went to doctor up her tea.

  She couldn’t stand around all morning, thinking of all the ways she didn’t measure up. She had a shift at the Inner Eye today, and a new massage client to email back before heading in to work.

  Frankly, it would be good to get out, do something. See people other than her cat. And talk about something other than the thoughts that kept swirling in her mind.

  All the same, she couldn’t help but feel something was really wrong with her. And that her coven mates were just being kind to say she was as normal as any other human weirdo they knew.

  Today? Tempest felt like the Tarot card, the five of discs. Always on the outside of the building, struggling along in the cold and snow, wishing she could feel the warm lights that glowed inside.

  Some days it felt as if everyone could feel the warmth but her. Maybe her last foster mom was right, and Tempest was somehow broken inside.

  14

  Ruby

  Other than some quiet voices and the occasional laugh, the vast hotel ballroom was quiet. Lights hummed and the orange and brown carpets clashed with pretty much everything. That didn’t matter. All eyes would be trained above, and the carpets covered by an endless flow of sneakers, boots, and wheelchairs.

  Ruby loved the calm before the hordes arrived, when it was just vendors in their booths, making last-minute adjustments to their wares and drinking coffee. It spoke of possibility. And after yesterday’s weirdness, it was good to be back to that.

  Ruby stepped outside her booth and looked at it from across the aisle. It looked great, she decided. Her two tables looked full. Wooden dowel racks stood near the backs of the tables, soft, brightly woven scarves and shawls hanging on display. Her cash point tablet was tucked discreetly into a back corner, along with a locking metal cash box buried beneath gift bags on a low shelving unit behind a padded folding stool. She tried to not perch on that too much, but it was necessary for those moments when she just had to get off her boots for a few minutes.

  The stock she’d lugged in this morning had filled in the gaps made by yesterday’s sales. With her phone charged up and cash box filled with change for the few oldsters that still actually handled filthy lucre, she was as prepared as she could be. That was good, considering the doors opened in three minutes. Just enough time to pour herself a cup of cardamom coffee from the thermos she had filled at home.

  She smelled Bay Rum and felt the air shift right before she turned.

  “Good morning!” Sean suddenly towered over her, shaggy blond hair wet combed from his morning shower. For such a mountain of a man, he sure was a soft walker. Today’s uniform was a Timbers Army T-shirt—along with being toy makers and geeks, Sean and Carla were serious soccer fans—black jeans, and green Pumas.

  “Good morning yourself. Ready for the day?”

  “Yep.” He crossed large, tattooed arms over his chest and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Just wanted to let you know that I heard from security. They talked with the guy but since he didn’t steal anything or assault anyone, there’s nothing they can do.”

  “Can’t kick someone out because of their thoughts, right? I mean, I get it, but it’s still frustrating. How many people have to get beaten up or killed by these goons before we can preempt them?”

  The sound of the laughs and chatter filtered into the big ballroom. Doors must be open.

  Sean sighed and shrugged. “We just have to back each other up. I gotta get to the booth. See you after load out.”

  “Thanks, Sean. See you.”

  And then the day got busy. Ruby was in her element. Helping people try on shawls, picking out the perfect scarf or hatband for gifts, selling more woven bracelets and bookmarks.

  But the back of her mind still nagged at her. Something was still wrong. That guy wasn’t gone. She just knew it.

  “Hey, lady?” A little voice came from behind her.

  Ruby turned and smiled down at a small Asian boy wearing a Miles Morales Spider-Man T-shirt. He looked to be around nine.

  “Hi there! What’s your name?”

  “Charles.”

  “What can I help you with, Charles?”

  He held out a fisted hand. “I found this.”

  An amulet rested in his palm. Ruby bit back a curse.

  It was a pewter Black Sun. A solar disc comprised of a circle with the sharp, slashed shapes of the runes for the sun forming a ring of rays around it. Talking with folks like Daniel, Ruby knew the original came from tile work in Heinrich Himmler’s castle.

  These days, it was only used by serious neo-Nazis and certain occultists. Like the kind of Satanist skinny guy was turning out to be.

  She forced herself to keep smiling and remain calm. With a quick glance around, she saw her booth customers all seemed happily occupied, so she crouched down next to Charles and held out her hand, willing herself not to snatch the amulet from his precious little palm.

  “Someone must have dropped it,” she said. “If you give it to me, I can keep it in the booth in case they come back. And I can tell Lost and Found I have it.”

  “Okay,” he said, and plunked the cast pewter in her hand. “Do you have any Spider-Man scarfs?”

  Ruby exhaled, smiled again, and stood.

  “I sure do. At least I have Spider-Man colors. All the scarves are over here. I’ve got super long ones, and shorter ones that might fit you better.”

  “Oh, it’s not for me!” he said, gravely. “It’s for my Grandpa. He loves Spider-Man as much as I do.”

  This time, Ruby’s smile was genuine. “Let’s go find him one. Do you have an adult around?”

  Charles nodded and pointed toward Sean and Carla’s booth. “There’s my parents.”

  Sure enough, a man and woman that looked like a couple were there, picking out toys. The woman smiled and waved. Charles and Ruby waved back.

  Then she slipped the amulet into the pocket of her jeans. It felt as if it left an oily residue on her fingers, and she immediately regretted putting into her pocket. But she’d deal with that once Charles was sorted out.

  He was already at the rack of scarves set up in the back corner of her booth, carefully lifting first one, and then the other.

  Ruby greeted an earnest white woman around her age in black framed glasses and black cat ears. The woman nodded, mumbled out an “I’m fine. Just looking,” and bent her head back to the infinity loop neck warmers. Cute, but shy. The neck warmers were knitted by Ruby’s friend, Grace. She’d taken them on consignment just for this show, and so far, they were doing pretty well.

  Okay. Charles.

  “Did you find the Spider-Man scarves?”

  She really loved the red, blue, and black scarves. The simple pattern was a satisfying weave and the colors looked great. The fact that she could sell them to geeks and then to regular people at the more standard craft fairs was a plus.

  His brow furrowed. “I did. But how can you tell they’re for Spider-Man and not Superman?”

  She smiled. Kids were so awesome. Reaching up, she pulled down a red and blue scarf with a white border. This style had a particularly tight weave and felt smooth to the touch.

  “Superman’s has white, see? Spider-Man’s has black, for the spider.”

  Charles’s face cleared. “Oh. Duh! Thanks! Let me go get my mom and dad! They said if I picked out Grandpa’s present, they’d pay.”

  “Good deal. See you soon.”

  She watched him run to his parents, who’d moved on to the booth across from Ruby’s. He gesticulated with excitement.

  Other than Cat Girl—who was still absorbed, holding up scarf after scarf—for the moment, the booth was clear.

  Time to get the damn amulet out of her pocket.

  Ruby stepped behind the table that held her cash point tablet and the cash box buried beneath a pile of festive paper bags with handles and her business info and logo stamped on the front.

  Where should she put it? Not in the cash box, that was for sure.

  She grabbed a piece of red tissue paper and pulled the thing out. A rough edge caught her right pointer finger, nicking her.

  “Damn!” Her finger flew to her mouth. As soon as she sucked on the small wound, she wondered if it was a mistake.

  What? You think the amulet is full of nasty magic or something? Come on, Rubes.

  What did she think this was? A D&D quest? The third level of Skyrim? Despite last night’s conversation, the whole thing still felt…weird. Even though she took Daniel’s point, she’d always been quite happy to keep the line between gaming and real life quite firm. Clearly she was straddling some weird in-between state.

  Besides, she trusted Daniel and Lawrence. Neither of them were flakes.

  And Tempest, she thought. Maybe you’re willing to suspend some disbelief on her account.

  That was probably true. And wasn’t it a damn thing? To have avoided falling for someone in so long, only to have a shy witch invade her mind?

  Two Black men—one in a Shazam T-shirt and the other wearing a blue Starfleet hoodie—walked into the booth, smiled, and headed toward her.

  “Hey!” Shazam asked. “Got anything for kids?”

  “I sure do,” Ruby replied, pasting her craft fair smile back on her face. She shoved the amulet back into her pocket. She’d deal with it later. Maybe call Daniel. See what he thought.

  For now, though? These two men needed help and it looked as if Cat Girl might be ready to actually buy something.

  “Be right with you!” she said.

  Ruby gave the clear plastic bottle on her table a pump and rubbed disinfectant all over her hands, paying special attention to the nicked finger.

  It stung.

  15

  Tempest

  It was still early enough that the post-brunch Sunday crowd hadn’t yet hit the store. Lawrence had stopped by for a chat and leaned against the glass counter as Tempest made up some inexpensive necklaces for display. Her small fingers were perfect for untangling things, and the results were two neat piles of burgundy and deep blue silk cords laid out on the glass countertop, ready for pendants and charms.

  “I don’t know, Lawrence. I’m pretty sure it’s just me, freaking out. You know I’m not really clairvoyant and, I mean, what are the odds?”

  “What’s it gonna take, Tempest? Do you need an actual Nazi to walk through your front door?”

  The bells on the Inner Eye door chimed. Tempest’s head snapped up, heart racing. She huffed out an exhalation and felt her shoulders drop when she saw who it was. Cassiel.

  A riot of red curls peaked out from beneath a green wool cap. A matching scarf wound around the woman’s neck, covering her up to her chin.

  “Cassie! What are you doing here? Don’t you work today?”

  Her coven mate smiled and held out a brown cardboard tray filled with white paper cups. “Nope. I get Sundays off now, and I brought hot chocolate! I know Brenda has tea and all, but it’s cold out today, and a little birdie told me you might need some cheering up.”

  The bells chimed again as Cassie was still talking. Everyone turned to the newcomer, swathed in a black wool coat and boots along with a white scarf and soft wool hat. Dark hair framed her boss’s smiling face. Brenda was here, and everything felt slightly better.

  “Who needs cheering up?” Brenda asked, unwinding the scarf and unbuttoning her coat. “And do I smell chocolate?”

  Cassiel set the takeout tray on the counter and slipped off her gloves and hat, shoving both into the pocket of her own black coat. Even the witches who loved color seemed to wear a lot of black.

  “Cassie seems to think I do,” Tempest said, watching her mentor head toward the purple, Celtic knot work curtain that separated the shop from the meeting room-slash-break room.

  “I brought hot chocolate for everyone.”

  “Just let me hang my coat up and I’ll be back. Cassie, need me to take your coat?”

  Smiling, Cassie handed her things to Brenda, who swished through the curtain and disappeared.

  “Wait.” Lawrence was staring at the white cups. “There’s four cups. How’d you know I was going to be here?”

  Cassie looked at Tempest and they both laughed.

  “How do you think?” Cassiel replied.

  “Witches.” Lawrence shook his head and tsked.

  “I don’t think you’re one to talk, Lawrence,” Brenda said, adjusting the knot of loose dark waves at the top of her head. She looked splendid, as always, in a thigh-length teal blue sweater tunic, black leggings, and boots. Silver bracelets, silver earring dangles, and a silver necklace set with a large moonstone completed her “hot, middle-aged psychic and Witch” look.

  Brenda always seemed so composed and, well, together. Tempest wished some of that would rub off. She always felt half stuck together, as if a manic Faery Goddess had a field day with sticks and glue.

  Tempest popped the lid off her cup and sniffed the rich scents of chocolate, cinnamon, and warm oat milk.

  “Thanks, Cassie. But I still don’t see why you thought I needed something.”

  Lawrence tsked again but didn’t say anything, too busy sipping his own hot chocolate. The boy sure loved his sweets.

  “Frankly, Tempest, you’ve felt a little haunted lately. And it’s not just your health. And then Brenda told me about your vision and…well, let’s just say the ghosts were talking and I got a pretty clear message during this morning’s meditation.”

  “And that was?” Brenda asked. She poured her hot chocolate into a blue ceramic mug from the back room. Somehow, she managed to pull it off without hot liquid cascading all over the countertop. One long, beringed finger caught an errant drop before it slid off the side of the cup. Brenda hated drinking out of anything other than glass or ceramic if she could help it.

  Everyone had their quirks.

  Tempest concentrated on drinking her own hot chocolate, hoping a customer would walk through the door, which would mean she or Brenda would need to help them, and would mean whatever Cassiel had come in to tell her could wait.

  Maybe forever. It was bad enough having Lawrence on her case, and the visions, and everything else going on, without getting confirmation that things were about to get more real than she had the capacity to handle.

  “Tempest?” Brenda looked at her with concern. “You’ve just gotten even paler than you were five seconds ago. What’s going on?”

  “I just…” How could she explain it? She wasn’t even certain why she was struggling like this. Confirmation that she wasn’t just losing her mind would be good, right?

  But all of a sudden, everything just felt too big. Too dangerous. Too real.

  “She’s scared,” Lawrence finally said. “And she doesn’t want to admit that shit is about to go down. Again. There’s stuff you don’t know yet…”

  “Lawrence.” Tempest’s voice came out as a whisper, hardly a threat, but Lawrence stopped anyway, cleared his throat, and took another drink of chocolate.

  “Tempest? Can you tell us?” Brenda asked, squeezing her wrist gently before releasing her again.

  Tempest shook her head, and stared down at her cup, then at the neat piles of satin cords. She really just wanted an ordinary day at the shop. She just wanted to slide crescent moons and brass pentacles onto those cords and arrange them on the display. Then she wanted to get a slice of pizza with Lawrence. Go back to her apartment. Pet Graymalkin and curl up with the urban fantasy she was reading.

  “This weaver we know, Ruby, was vending at a craft fair yesterday and thinks she saw the dude from Tempest’s vision.”

  “I knew it,” Cassiel said. “That’s what the ghosts were saying this morning. That the danger was real—closer than we thought—and that Tempest was in the middle of it all.”

  “But why?” Tempest didn’t understand it. None of it. Why her? Why now? “Why me? I mean, I get why someone would be pissed off at the coven, but what have I done?”

  Brenda looked at her with those wise blue eyes, brimming with compassion, but still seeing way too much for Tempest’s comfort.

  “Sometimes things don’t make sense, Tempest. They just happen. But I don’t think that’s one-hundred percent the case this time.”

  Cassie nodded in agreement, red curls swishing around her face.

  “You’re right, Brenda. As usual. This isn’t random. Tempest is being targeted, along with Arrow and Crescent.”

  “And Daniel has a name now. Brad Chadwick.”

  “Well,” Brenda said, “that’s interesting, isn’t it? I refused to hire a reader by that name. Joshua did, too.”

  “Wow,” Lawrence said. “That makes it more personal, doesn’t it?”

  “But why me?” Tempest repeated, voice louder than before. “That’s the thing I still don’t understand. Why would anyone even notice me?”

  A strange look crossed Lawrence’s face. Some mix of pity, affection, and disbelief.

  “A lot of people notice you, Tempest. You’re going to need to get used to it,” he said.

 

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