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  “Head west.”

  I jumped as the mechanical voice shouted at me, the volume all the way up. I whipped my head around to see Peasblossom hefting the device in my direction, her little face pinched with irritation. As soon as I made eye contact, she dropped the GPS and tapped rapidly on the screen.

  “Go west, it said.” She pointed out my window. “That’s west.”

  I gritted my teeth and pulled out of my parking spot, heading west as instructed. “You’ll need to do a bit of spying when we get there. It’d be nice to know if the owner is evil before we place our order.”

  “I’ll snoop around, but not before I order my honey,” Peasblossom countered. “I’m hungry. You know how cranky I get when I’m hungry.”

  I thumped my head back against my seat.

  “Not as cranky as you get,” Peasblossom continued. “But still. It’s in both our best interests that I get my honey first.”

  The ten-minute drive might as well have been ten hours. Peasblossom hefted the GPS like John Cusack in Say Anything any time I was too slow making a turn, or if I stopped for a yellow light. Add to that the fact that the GPS told me to turn too late and I had to circle the block to get back to the entrance to the small parking lot, and my hands were shaking with a bad case of nerves by the time I parked.

  “You should stock up on gatestones,” Peasblossom complained, climbing my shirt to tuck herself into the loose fabric of the mock turtleneck. “You’re rubbish at driving.”

  “You should learn to fly yourself, and then you wouldn’t have to drive with me.”

  “I know how to fly.”

  I resisted the urge to pull the neck of my shirt down to let her spill into thin air. She’d probably just snag my shirt with those pointy little fingers of hers, and I didn’t need any more mending to do.

  Goodfellows smelled like any other tavern. Polished wood, the mixed aroma of past meals, and that strange wood-metal combination of silverware wrapped in cheap napkins. A sign said, Seat yourself’ so I chose a booth along the right wall. Peasblossom leapt off my shirt and landed too hard on the table. The honey-colored wood offered no traction, and her feet shot out from under her. She landed with a grunt on her bottom, glaring at me as though I’d had something to do with it.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “If you’d fly more often, you’d be better at landings.”

  “I am an expert at landings, thank you very much. Someone obviously used an insensible amount of polish.”

  A waitress across the room paused in the middle of straightening one of the picture frames mounted to the red brick wall. Her long blonde hair parted when she moved, revealing the pointed tip of one ear. As soon as she saw Peasblossom, she smiled and headed for our table.

  “Hi, I’m Alexandra. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

  “No,” Peasblossom said immediately. “I want honey. Lots of it.”

  Alexandra nodded, then turned her attention to me. “And you?”

  “Tea,” I said tiredly. “With lemon and honey, please.”

  “Bring her her own honey,” Peasblossom added. “I’m not sharing.”

  “I would never ask you to share,” Alexandra assured her seriously.

  I waited for Alexandra to leave, then fixed Peasblossom with a stern look. “Snoop.”

  She heaved a sigh and made a big show of dragging herself to her feet before throwing herself into the air. I ignored the drama and opened the pouch at my waist to search for a notepad and pen. The enchanted pouch didn’t make such a simple task easy, and I found a book, a watch, and a handful of keys before my questing fingers touched the clicky end of a pen. The search for the notebook unearthed a sewing kit and three combs, but eventually gave up a spiral-bound notepad.

  Peasblossom coincidentally arrived back at the table at the same time Alexandra brought her honey. I narrowed my eyes and set the pen and notebook on the table. “Well?”

  “Owner is a witch.”

  I blinked. “A witch?”

  “Mmbpht.”

  I sighed and rubbed my temples as Peasblossom attempted to answer me with a mouthful of honey. “Anyone we know?”

  “Mmph—”

  “Oh, swallow the honey before you answer!”

  Peasblossom narrowed her pink eyes. She swallowed hard, making an audible gulping sound as she forced the honey down. “No. Just a minor witch, nothing very powerful. Everyone says she’s a good one. There’s a picture of her with Mother Hazel in the kitchen.”

  Tension bled from my shoulders and I relaxed against the padded seat. “Good. All right, so tell me what you found. Something about Arianne?”

  Peasblossom swallowed the glob of honey she’d just sucked off her hand and gave me a sticky smirk. “Arianne Monet is a sorceress.”

  I stirred lemon into my tea and waited.

  “She specializes in dream magic. Specifically, she uses dream magic to invade her clients’ dreams and harvest secrets.”

  “What kind of secrets?”

  “All kinds. Stock tips, personal shames for blackmailing purposes. You name it, she steals it. That’s why she’s so rich. It’s also the reason she’s so well connected.” Peasblossom dipped her hand into the honey, swirling her arm around the way a carnival worker used a paper stick to gather cotton candy. “You shouldn’t have made her mad.”

  I ignored that, along with the sinking suspicion that she was right. “Anything connecting her to the murder?”

  Peasblossom shook her head and shoved most of her hand in her mouth, sucking off the honey. “No proof she’s ever killed anyone. She prefers to get rid of her enemies by manipulating their thoughts, making them forget all about her. The sprite in the planter outside said that every few months, a big group of people goes into the hotel through the back door late at night.”

  “Is that strange?”

  She shrugged, dripping honey into her lap in a tacky puddle. “Maybe not. But he also said men in uniforms visit a lot. Arianne doesn’t like it when they do.”

  “Men in uniforms?” I drew a finger around the rim of my coffee mug. “That’s not terribly specific. For all we know, they might be health inspectors. Or cops.”

  “Perhaps.”

  I took a long sip of my tea, hoping the warm liquid would make up for the sudden weight of my spirit.

  Peasblossom looked up at my face then patted my arm with her sticky fingers. “I can ask around some more? When I’m done with my honey?”

  “No.” I stirred more honey into my tea, staring into the aromatic liquid as if it held the answers I needed. “We need to get back home. I promised Amy I would make her a potion for Shilo’s eczema.”

  “You also promised Mrs. Harvesty that you’d see to her cat first this afternoon,” Peasblossom pointed out, wiping a hand along her jaw and smearing more honey up to her ear. “What’s one more promise broken?”

  “Oh, no,” I moaned, slumping back on the seat. “I forgot!”

  “That won't go well for you. Mother Hazel was already against our private investigation service. This is just going to convince her you can’t handle both being a detective and— Hey!”

  I ignored her shout of indignation as I scooped her up in a napkin and downed the rest of my tea in one gulp. I left a handful of bills on the table to cover the tea and a generous tip, then marched to my car with the sticky ball of honeyed pixie in my palm.

  “I wasn’t done!” Peasblossom wailed.

  “I’ll give you more honey when we get home.”

  “Fat lot your word means now,” Peasblossom grumbled. “Two broken promises and you want to make it three.”

  “I haven’t broken any promises. I’m just late for my appointment with Mrs. Harvesty. I can still get to Amy’s on time and I can still get you your honey.”

  “Show me the honey, then we’ll talk.”

  As soon as we climbed into the car, I dug around in my pouch for the wand of prestidigitation.

  “It’s out of charges,” Peasblossom
said sulkily.

  “Of course it is.” I sighed and retrieved the empty bowl and bottle of water I kept in the glove box. It said something about Peasblossom and her honey obsession that I carried a makeshift bath for her, but after dealing with a pixie covered in dried, tacky honey a few times, I’d learned my lesson. Wands were fine and good, but backup was crucial.

  I pulled out my cell phone and, after a moment of meditation to brace myself, dialed Mrs. Harvesty’s number.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Harvesty, it’s Shade Renard. Listen, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there this morning.”

  “Oh, dear, didn’t you get my message?”

  I pulled my phone away from my ear enough to check the bar at the top. No missed calls, no text messages. I put the phone back to my ear. “No, I didn’t.”

  “How strange. I called you this morning and left you a message. Majesty is doing much better. I think he just needed a little extra attention.”

  I raised my eyebrows. The last thing that kitten needed was more attention.

  “Anyway, everything is all right. And don’t worry about forgetting your promise. I’m sure you meant well.”

  Peasblossom looked up from her bath and shook her head. Mrs. Harvesty was obviously under the impression she’d called off our appointment, but now that I’d let slip that I’d forgot, it was a sure thing she’d remember I’d forgotten. This would come back on me.

  I let my head fall back against my seat. “Thank you, Mrs. Harvesty. I’m glad your cat is all right.”

  “Majesty,” she said evenly.

  I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. “I’m glad Majesty is all right.”

  She made a satisfied sound and then we said our goodbyes and hung up. Two hours and what had to be five million orange traffic cones later, I passed into Dresden and guided the car to Amy’s house. She wasn’t home—a small favor, since I wasn’t in the mood to stay and socialize. I left the cream I’d made for her on the porch and drove home.

  My instincts flared as I pulled into my driveway. The sun had set and it was dark, but the automatic light on my garage didn’t come on. I frowned.

  “Did you disconnect the automatic light?”

  Peasblossom curled against my neck, her wet dress adding to a sudden chill in the air inside the car. “No.”

  Unease rolled down my spine. I murmured a spell, drawing a few circles in the air. “Lumen.” Three glowing balls of reddish light bloomed to life and hovered before me. I kept one over my head and sent the other two forward, illuminating my path to the front door. I didn’t open the garage door and pull in, but got out while I was still in the driveway, already preparing another spell as I climbed out of the driver’s seat.

  “Revelare.” My power flowed in a wash of silver toward the house, probing for any foreign magic.

  Nothing.

  “Stay here,” I told Peasblossom. “If I don’t call for you, go to Mother Hazel and tell her everything that happened today.”

  “But I won’t have anything to tell her unless I stay to see what happens,” Peasblossom hissed. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “This might be nothing.” I kept my voice as low as possible. “The bulb may have burned out. Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m not silly and I’m not stupid. You think there’s something bad inside. And a witch never ignores her gut.”

  A lump rose in my throat, and I fought to swallow around it. “Please stay out here. I can’t bear the idea of anything happening to you.”

  Peasblossom gave my ear a ferocious hug. “I’ll stay out here, but only as backup. I will never leave you.”

  I waited for her to fly up and off my shoulder before straightening my spine. This was my house. My village. Whatever was here, whatever had violated my home, would be sorry. Power rose in my throat, feeding the spell I’d readied.

  “Shade, look out!”

  I whirled around and spat behind me. The spell hurtled through the air, and I had a split second to see a dark figure separate itself from the maple tree beside my driveway. The spell landed in the grass, the viscous blue fluid of the entanglement spell pooling in the tree’s shadow.

  “Such attacks will not be necessary.”

  A man spoke from beside me, smooth and masculine, voice heavy with an accent I hadn’t heard in a long time.

  A very, very long time.

  I turned, knowing I’d never call up another spell fast enough. I raised my hand anyway, needing to try, to go down fighting. A hand closed around my wrist, tight enough that I swore I heard my bones creak. I gritted my teeth and stared into the face of my visitor.

  He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my car. Long white-blond hair brushed his shoulders and framed a pale face with sharp, graceful features. I couldn’t see what color his eyes were in this light, but it didn’t matter. I remembered his face.

  He went by the name Anton Winters, majority shareholder of the Winters Group, a company that made the Forbes 500 list look like a gathering of struggling start-ups. There were whispers he had criminal connections, that he was former KGB. I knew the truth. And it was scarier.

  Anton Winters had once been known by a different name.

  Prince Kirill of Dacia.

  A vampire.

  Chapter 5

  Humans had their history wrong. This world hadn’t started with a bang, big or otherwise. It had started with blood. Royal blood from five princes, smeared on the enchanted trunk of the World Tree. They’d intended to build the perfect kingdom.

  It hadn’t quite worked out that way.

  Reality as humans knew it today was the result of the contamination of the princes’ vision. An example of what happens when rumor of a new land spreads to every branch of the World Tree. Creatures poured in from every kingdom imaginable, all of them wanting to claim a piece of the new world for themselves. All that travel through the veils that separated the worlds had left jagged holes in the fabric of time and space and created the chaotic timeline the humans of this time called their own.

  I had to give the vampire credit. He’d rolled with the punches, sliding seamlessly from Prince Kirill of Dacia to Anton Winters, billionaire businessman with suspected but never proven connections to crime all over the world.

  And he’s standing in my driveway.

  “I believe it is traditional in situations such as this for me to assure you I mean you no harm.”

  Anton didn’t attempt a reassuring smile, which I appreciated, since I wasn’t mentally prepared to see his fangs. Especially not when I was this close.

  “You’ll forgive me if my concerns are not completely assuaged.” I kept my free hand out of sight beside my body, already drawing a new spell.

  He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I understand. Since it seems there is very little I can do to convince you of my innocent intentions, perhaps it would be best if we cut to the chase, as they say?”

  “As long as the cutting is completely figurative.”

  It was a personal failing of mine that humor was my first line of defense when I was nervous. Thankfully, the vampire didn’t seem bothered. He released my wrist and flowed backward, putting a few feet of space between us. I held my breath, keeping the fire spell coiled in my palm, ready to release it if he tried to grab me again. I had little hope that I could really hurt him, at least, not without burning down the entire village, but hopefully I could distract him long enough to get away.

  “It is my understanding that you are a detective,” he began.

  I blinked, my hand drooping at my side. “It is?”

  Anton arched an eyebrow. “Your surprise is somewhat disheartening. Am I misinformed?”

  “No, no, I just—” I stopped and shook my head. “I’m sorry, are you saying you’re here to…hire me?”

  He plucked at an invisible loose thread near the button hole closest to his belt. “Mother Renard, I’m certain you can appreciate that matters which require a detective are often quite sensitive. I would be most
appreciative if you could see your way to moving our conversation someplace more private than your…charming driveway.”

  I almost laughed, but swallowed it just in time. I was not going to invite a vampire into my house. I was not going to invite this vampire into my house. “I’m afraid I’m not set up for company. If you wouldn’t mind coming back tomorrow night, I could make other arrangements…?”

  “I understand your situation, but I’m afraid I must insist we proceed now. If you will get into your car, I will take you to my office. I promise you, you will be well compensated for your inconvenience.”

  “Where is your office?” I asked.

  “Cleveland.”

  If I hadn’t already intended to say no, that would have cinched it. I’d only just got home, I wasn’t turning around and driving straight back. As it was, those orange cones would haunt my nightmares.

  Then again, refusing to acquiesce to a vampire’s request wasn’t high on the list of smart things to do either. Perhaps I should agree to go, make a show of it. I could call Mother Hazel on the way, then pretend I’d changed my mind, backup firmly in place.

  Liking my new plan, I smiled at Anton. “All right. I’ll follow you.”

  Anton swept an arm toward my car. “After you.”

  It took every ounce of self-control in my possession to give the vampire my back so I could search for Peasblossom without giving her away. He must have heard her shout a warning to me, and I didn’t like the thought of what the vampire might do if he thought the tiny fey would report on what she’d witnessed. And Peasblossom would never leave as I’d told her to, now that she knew who’d been waiting for me. I needed her on my shoulder, close enough to protect her.

  I closed my eyes as I slid behind the wheel, concentrating on the bond between witch and familiar. A flicker at the end of the connection made my heart skip a beat. Peasblossom. She was there, close by. And she was afraid.

  Then nothing. One second I could practically feel Peasblossom’s heartbeat through the bond, and the next it was gone, and I was alone.