Before I could change my mind or chicken out, I marched over to the basement door and yanked it open.
Cold, stale air pillowed out of the door, and I realized with a guilty start that this was the first time I’d opened the door to the basement since that night with Rhyzkahl. The awareness sent a deep spear of chagrin through me. I couldn’t afford to be weak like that. I couldn’t lose my focus. And I certainly couldn’t be afraid. Not and be a successful summoner. Summoners had to be cautious, wary, and vigilant, but fear caused you to lose focus. The time for fear was afterward, when you could learn from it.
I flicked the lights on with the switch at the top of the stairs. With fluorescent lighting, the basement hardly looked like an arcane summoning chamber. My annoyance with myself grew as I looked around, seeing the implements still left out from last time—the candles on the floor, the knife on the carpet, the chalk and the oil near the smeared diagram.
“You suck,” I scolded myself, but I could still do this. It was early—barely seven p.m.—which gave me plenty of time to do the necessary cleaning and preparing.
It didn’t take me long to get into the rhythm of the cleaning. I wasn’t usually a neat and tidy sort, but, when my mind was scattered, it was one way that I could get my thoughts gathered.
My house was ready well before midnight, the chamber cleaned and my garments hanging on the hook at the bottom of the stairs. I took a shower, then wrapped my fuzzy bathrobe around me as I walked to the front door to check the lock and pull the curtains closed.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when a knock sounded on the door just as I was turning the lock. I scowled, taking a breath to settle myself as I stood there with my hand on the lock. Who the hell would be coming by at this hour? No one ever came to visit, which was fine with me. I was too far from the road for it to be someone with an emergency.
Shit. I hadn’t placed any arcane protections around the house yet. I’d planned to save those for last, since they were such a pain in the ass. I stood quietly for a moment, waiting to see if the person would leave, but that hope was dashed when the knock came again, hard and heavy. Like a police knock. Shitfuckdamn.
I peered through the peephole, shocked to see Agent Kristoff standing outside my door. I frowned, trying to see if anyone was with him. I couldn’t see anyone else, but the peephole didn’t exactly give the best view of the porch.
I tugged my robe closer about me, snugged the belt tight, then unlocked the door and pulled it open about three inches. He was wearing a long-sleeved black oxford-style shirt and khaki dress pants—a really good look for him, I thought in an incredibly private part of my mind. The porch light did interesting things to his facial features as well. He had a fairly rugged face, like a man who wasn’t afraid to work outdoors and get his hands dirty, but the overhead lighting made him look positively craggy. I couldn’t help but mentally compare his face with the unearthly and perfect beauty of Rhyzkahl, and that same incredibly private part of my mind wasn’t sure which I found more appealing.
I gave myself a mental slap to get back to the here and now. “Agent Kristoff. Are you lost?”
“No, Detective Gillian,” he said. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes so that we could discuss some of the aspects of the case that we were, ah … unable to go into at the station?”
I stared at him. “Now?”
He gave a half shrug. “Well, yes. I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but there aren’t too many opportunities that I’m going to have to speak to you without the others around.”
Well, that was most likely the truth. I grimaced and glanced up at the sky out of habit. No, you’re not going to see a full moon, silly. You’re doing a full-dark summoning. I looked back at him. “Your timing is kinda awkward.”
He blinked, then his mouth twitched. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you might have company. I didn’t see another car in your driveway.”
I groaned. Yep, that’s exactly what it looked like, answering the door in my bathrobe and not wanting to let him in. “Oh, good grief, no! There’s no one else here.” I ran a hand through my still-damp hair. “No, I was just … uh … getting ready to do something.”
He gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I hope I wasn’t being insulting just now.”
“No.” I suppressed the sigh. “Heck, if you knew me any better, you’d know that it’s pretty damn rare for me to have any company here.”
“Now that’s just a damn shame,” he said, still smiling.