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  And they still didn’t see anything.

  I held up a hand to stop Peasblossom from launching herself into the air the second I opened my car door. “A few ground rules.”

  The pixie hopped onto my finger, clinging to it like a spider monkey. “I don’t like ground rules.”

  “Yes, I know. Ground rule number one, you will not stay out all night. You will return to me within the hour.”

  She sniffed. “It’s cold. I don’t want to stay out all night anyway.”

  “Good. Ground rule number two, you will not steal anything.”

  An indignant huff. “I would never.”

  I didn’t argue. Pointing out that I was well aware that one room in the dollhouse she lived in back home was packed full of things she’d “found” would only lead to a series of outraged explanations on why she deserved that quarter, or why that button was payment for some imagined blessing.

  “Ground rule number three…” I looked at her, holding my hand a little closer to my face. “Be safe,” I said softly.

  Peasblossom’s face relaxed, then she gave my finger a ferocious hug. “You too. I don’t want you getting into trouble just because I’m not there to watch your back.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I promised.

  Peasblossom snorted. “Tell that to that second eurypterid.”

  She flew off before I could respond. It was my turn to huff.

  “I killed it eventually,” I muttered.

  Shaking off the pixie’s reminder of my brief lapse in vigilance, I marched into the hotel. Lavender enveloped me in a puff of perfume as soon as the door to Suite Dreams swished closed behind me. Tension slid from my shoulders. I inhaled more of the soft scent as I swept a lazy glance over the lobby, taking in the high ceiling painted like the night sky, complete with tiny twinkling lights to mimic the stars. Overstuffed chairs formed two lines down the center of the room, leading to a double staircase framing a glass elevator. The chairs whispered promises of comfortable cushions and a nap that would revitalize me for the day’s demands. It was only two o’clock, but suddenly I was very tired.

  Focus. Dead woman. Murder. Find clues. I forced myself to abandon the decadent furniture, and lurched toward the long marble counter that traced the wall on the right. The petite blonde behind the counter gave me a bright smile as I approached, and I smiled in return.

  “Hi”—I read her nametag—“Katie. May I speak with the manager, please?”

  Katie bobbed her head, her pixie cut teasing her ears as she did so. “May I tell him what this is about?”

  “Yes, my name is Shade Renard, and I’d like to talk to him about Helen Miller.”

  She wrote, “Shade Renard is here to speak with you about Helen Miller” on a pale blue Post-it, then disappeared around a corner, into the back of the hotel.

  I drummed my fingers against the counter while I waited, unable to resist admiring my surroundings. Soft purples and blues dominated the hotel furnishings. Silver accents glittered from chandeliers and squat lamps centered on side tables pressed between the chairs that still begged me to come have a seat. Gentle music played in the background, and for a moment I closed my eyes.

  The counter cooled my arm as I propped my chin up in my hand, drawing lazy circles over the sleek surface with my finger. I opened my eyes. The counter looked like marble, done in pale purples, pinks, and whites. Like carved amethyst.

  I blinked and realized I’d slid down, rested my head on my arm, and practically fallen asleep while standing there. Alarm bells went off in my mind, screaming at me that something was wrong. I didn’t question my instinct, just straightened my spine and faced the room, this time without consideration to its beauty and comfort. Magic crackled in my fingertips as I waved a hand out over the room.

  “Revelare.”

  A silver net arced from my fingertips, and as it landed, bursts of light glittered all around me like a sea of diamonds.

  Magic. There was magic everywhere, and under the influence of my spell, I saw it as a glowing violet luminescence. The longer I stood there, the clearer the magic became. Individual spells unraveled before my eyes.

  “Dream magic,” I murmured.

  “Shade Renard?”

  I whirled around and found a woman standing beside me, much closer than she should have gotten without me noticing. Perfect pale brown skin suggested Middle Eastern descent, and glittering maroon eyeshadow set off dark brown eyes. Her black hair fell over her shoulder like a raven’s wing, hiding the skin bared by the scarlet dress falling artfully off one shoulder. The dress appeared soft and supple, as if it doubled as a nightgown. After what my spell had shown me, I suspected that impression was intentional.

  “I am Arianne Monet, the owner of this hotel. Please, come with me to my office.”

  She led me around the counter into the back. I followed her, instantly and without thought. It was ten steps before I realized I’d moved. A chill ran down my spine. Dream magic. Hypnosis. Arianne was a sorceress—I would bet my life on it.

  Might have already bet my life on it.

  I tried to stop myself from following her, but confusion muddled my thoughts. Why wouldn’t I follow her? I wanted to talk to her, didn’t I? That was why I came here.

  “Who are you and why are you here asking about Helen Miller?”

  I blinked, disoriented to find myself sitting on a couch before an enormous wooden desk. The cushions of my seat held me in a supple grip, coaxing me to relax, take a nap. The same magic that soaked the lobby enchanted this furniture. I clenched my jaw and closed my hand into a fist once again, feeling the ring on my finger. A flex of my will and the ring sent a trickle of energy over my skin in a thin layer of protection.

  Minor protection.

  “Someone from this hotel called Helen Miller several times in the weeks preceding her disappearance. A woman.” I forced myself to my feet, putting a little more distance between me and the sorceress, for what little good it would do me. “Her husband said she wouldn’t talk about what went on here, acted confused when he brought it up.”

  “And?” Arianne asked coolly.

  “And she’s missing.”

  “The FBI has already been here, and I spoke with them, made myself available for any questions they might have. They found I had nothing to do with Mrs. Miller’s disappearance.”

  “The FBI would have no way of knowing you’re a sorceress.” I crossed my arms. “A sorceress expending a lot of magic on her clientele.”

  Arianne’s posture stiffened. “You are accusing me of something?”

  I called up my temper, used it to fight back the urge to sleep that was stroking my brain like a master petting a cat. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m asking for information. What was Helen doing here?”

  The anger in her eyes died as suddenly as it had appeared. Arianne folded herself into the chair behind the desk and drew one finger down the arm in a lazy line as she held my gaze.

  “Helen Miller is the most accomplished architect in the Eastern United States when it comes to creative design. I hired her to build some extra features in my hotel.” She shrugged. “There is nothing suspicious here, Ms. Renard. I will admit, I used hypnosis on Mrs. Miller to protect my privacy. A little suggestion planted in her mind, so she would only remember her projects here when she was wearing the security badge I provided. Nothing serious, nothing untoward. Simply an extra assurance that my secrets would be kept.”

  Her hostility had made me suspicious. Her cooperation made me paranoid. I debated probing the door for magic that might prevent my escape, but discarded the idea. Arianne had spelled this entire hotel—this was a place of power for her. I had no chance of leaving if she didn’t want me to.

  She slid her hands down the arms of the chair and stood in a motion so graceful that I feared she’d fogged my mind again. She murmured something and traced a finger on the arm of her chair before stepping away. Before I could react, she was standing in front of me.

  “Thank
you so much for coming by, Mother Renard. I feel so much better knowing you’ve inspected my wards. I do hope you’ll accept my invitation to come stay with me some time.”

  I nodded and smiled back as I rose from the chair and shook her hand. “I will, yes. And you’re very welcome for the wards. I was only too happy to help.”

  She beamed at me, opened the door to her office, and led me down the muted corridor toward the lobby. I inhaled lavender perfume as we walked to the gleaming glass doors that led out of the hotel. It had always been one of my favorite scents. So calming. I really should come back here for an extended stay. I could use the relaxation.

  “Goodbye, Mother Renard.”

  “Wait! I missed the whole thing?”

  Peasblossom almost fell down the back of my shirt as she crash-landed on my shoulder, tiny feet scrabbling to keep from sliding down the soft fleece of my wrap. I scowled and rolled my shoulder.

  “Stop that. Yes, I’m done. The wards are fine.”

  “Wards?” Peasblossom poked her head out of my collar. “What wards?”

  “The wards she was here to inspect.” Arianne’s voice was a little strained, but her smile remained in place. “And she’s all finished, so you can both leave now.” She fluttered her fingers at the door as she spoke, then cleared her throat.

  “Why are you pointing at me? And did you just say something? I—” Peasblossom squeaked. Without warning, she grabbed my ear, pulled it to her, and bit down—hard.

  I shrieked and slapped a hand over my earlobe, narrowly avoiding the little fey. “Why would you do that?”

  “She’s trying to hypnotize me!” Peasblossom snapped. “And she obviously already got you.”

  The pain lancing out from my ear drilled into my head, piercing the lavender-infused haze. Suddenly I was aware of two things. Number one, there were at least ten humans in the lobby, and they were all staring at us. And number two, Arianne Monet had tried to mind-roll me. I tilted my body to keep Peasblossom out of her line of sight as I met her eyes.

  Arianne frowned and crossed her arms. “Get out.”

  I took a step closer, my temper burning hot enough to melt away the last of her hypnotic suggestion. “Tell me the truth,” I said under my breath, “or I will make an unholy scene. You strike me as a good businesswoman.” I gave the enchanted lobby a pointed glance. “If not a moral one. I’m sure you weren’t lying when you said you wanted to keep your secrets. So unless you want me to put in a great deal of time and effort exposing those secrets, you’d better talk.”

  Arianne’s eyes darkened, the brown irises sinking into pits as black as tar. “You do not want me for an enemy, Mother Renard.”

  She was right. “You want me for a friend,” I countered.

  She arched an eyebrow at that. It didn’t seem to convince her, but at least it broke the tension somewhat. After a long minute, she gestured for me to step to the side and I followed her to a more private area behind some glossy-leaved plants.

  “I told you what you wanted to know,” she said. “I simply planted the suggestion that you would not remember it when you left.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why she’d bothered to answer my questions at all if she’d intended to wipe the information away anyway. But then I saw the genius of it. Simple hypnotic suggestions worked best when the subconscious didn’t work very hard to break them. It was easier to convince someone to forget information they had than to make them forget that they wanted information.

  “Then you told me the truth about Helen Miller,” I said. “She built your secret rooms and that’s it?”

  “I never said secret rooms, but yes. And she finished before her disappearance. I had no reason to contact her after that.” Arianne shrugged. “I’m sorry she’s missing. I had plans to use her services again. She really is the best.”

  I bit my lip. She was using the present tense. Either she didn’t know Helen was dead or she was smart enough to fake it. “Do you know of anyone else who wanted to use her services? Anyone from the Otherworld who might have…valued their secrecy, even more than you?”

  “You mean do I know someone who might have used her services and then killed her? No.”

  “All right.” I drummed my fingers against my waist pouch. “Let’s say I believe you.”

  Arianne narrowed her eyes. “I have told you the truth.”

  “So you say.” I held her gaze, gauging the truth of her next response. “Would the hypnotism you used on Mrs. Miller have harmed her in any way?”

  “No. As I said, it is a simple, gentle spell. Harmless.”

  “So it’s not possible that your spell damaged her mind in any way?”

  “How do you mean?”

  I debated telling her about Helen’s ghost, but only for a second. If Arianne was lying, I didn’t want her to know the victim’s ghost had no chance of helping find her murderer. “Nothing. Just one more question. Where were you the night of January twentieth?”

  “Here in my hotel, where I am every night.”

  “Can anyone corroborate that? Anyone not susceptible to your hypnosis?”

  She lifted her chin. “No.”

  I nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

  Her stare bored into the back of my head as I left, promising that our talk wasn’t over, no matter what I might think. The magic of the hotel trailed over my body like sticky cobwebs as I left. It wasn’t so peaceful and comforting now, and I swiped at my arms to rid myself of the sensation.

  Peasblossom tsked in my ear. “You'll have a tough time appeasing that one. Some people are so easily offended.”

  “I must devise a subtler way to ask people if they’re murderers who lie to the FBI,” I agreed, opening my car door.

  “So that’s a thank you that you owe me, and an apology gift you owe the sorceress.”

  I groaned and slumped into the driver’s seat. It had been a while since I’d offended someone, and I’d forgotten what came after that. If there was one thing my mentor was adamant about, beyond the insistence that everything was a witch’s business, it was her warning that someone who lived as long as a witch owed it to herself not to make enemies unless it was unavoidable. To that end, when I offended someone, I was required to send them a gift to attempt reparations.

  “She won't be easy to shop for,” I muttered, staring at the hotel looming like a sentinel above me. The tower rising behind the main building gave the hotel a medieval appearance, and all that white stone screamed money. Arianne Monet was wealthy and powerful. Exactly the sort of person Mother Hazel had warned me to avoid irritating.

  “Don’t forget the thank you,” Peasblossom reminded me. “I’m important too.”

  I smiled at her, raising a finger to pat her little pink head. “Thank you. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I’d be on my way home with her hypnotic suggestion still hugging my memories.” I shuddered, unable to keep from remembering poor Mrs. Miller. “Do you believe what she said about her hypnotic suggestions being harmless? Could she have caused the damage to Mrs. Miller’s ghost?”

  Peasblossom sat on my shoulder and kicked her feet. “The hypnosis she used on you wouldn’t have caused that kind of damage, but she has other magic. All that amethyst...”

  I nodded. “She’s using dream magic, and lots of it.”

  “Dreams can be powerful. If she somehow got into Mrs. Miller’s head through her dreams, then she could have done a lot of damage, even without intending to.”

  “So she’s not off the suspect list.”

  “No. Though I don’t see what she’d get out of killing her. Helen was human, there’s no reason Arianne’s hypnosis wouldn’t have sufficed to protect her precious secrets.” Peasblossom paced over the dashboard. “Then again, I suppose it depends on what those secrets are.”

  There was a lilt in the pixie’s voice that I recognized all too well. “I don’t suppose you learned anything of that nature on your little trip?”

  Peasblossom preened, slowly fanning
her wings as she twirled a fingertip through a lock of pink hair. “As a matter of fact, I did. And I’d be delighted to share my information with you over a nice cup of tea—and honey.”

  I pressed my lips together, but didn’t argue. Experience had taught me that when Peasblossom had information that would get her honey, she wouldn't give up said information without said honey.

  I arched an eyebrow as she huffed and puffed to drag the GPS off the center console.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “One of the sprites I talked to said there’s a fey pub near here. Goodfellows.” She punched the name into the search menu.

  I halted the key halfway to the ignition. “And what did he say about it?”

  Peasblossom snuggled back against the cushion, the GPS propped in her lap so she could watch the search bar spiral through its colors. “He said I could order for myself. They’re very respectful to the wee folk.”

  “And who owns it?”

  “Laurie.”

  My head drooped with the urge to bang my forehead on the steering wheel. “And Laurie is a…?”

  Peasblossom furrowed her brow, sparing me a glance. “Pub owner?”

  “What is she, Peasblossom? Human, fey…?”

  “Why would a human own a fey pub?” Peasblossom shook her head and returned her attention to the GPS. “Sometimes I don’t think you think things through.”

  My eye twitched. The mechanical voice from the GPS told me to head west. I kept my hand on the keys, slowly starting the car, but making no move to leave the parking lot. A fey pub could be a boon or a danger, depending on who owned it. One of the lesser fey might do it to have a place for others from beyond the veil to gather, a way to make money while simultaneously providing a service. But there were some creatures that might do it for less pleasant reasons. Creatures who fed off fey energy, or who spied on the customers for information that might be worth a penny or two.