Ray returned to the table, pulling out the chair next to me. Flipping it around, he straddled it and leaned his elbows on the back. He was a tall man, with soft black hair that waved down to his neck. He was also as human as they came. He handed me a hundred and fifty dollars.
“Will this cover the bill for looking over my storeroom?”
I pocketed fifty and handed him back the rest. “You get the friends and family discount.” I suddenly felt awkward. Ray and I hadn’t talked much since we broke up, at least no more than polite formalities. I shifted in my seat.
He seemed to feel it too. “So, are you seeing anybody?”
At least that was an easy answer. I shook my head.
“No. I think I’m better off on my own.” I met his gaze, searching for any signs that he was still angry. “I wish I could tell you why I broke up with you, but Ray, it wasn’t you. At least, not in the way you think.”
He gave me a rueful smile. “After you dumped me, I was really angry. I never wanted to see you again. Then Angel told me about Robert, and about Leland. Anyway, I understand. Thank you, for looking after me.” He lingered over the words, then shrugged. “I’m still game, if you are. I’ll take my chances.”
I gave him a long look. “Ray, don’t do this.”
“But we were—”
“Look, it’s done. Over. Angel told you about Robert and Leland because she’s my best friend and she knew it hurt me to push you away. Please, don’t make it harder than it already has been.”
He let out what sounded like a cross between a sigh and a huff. “Okay. But don’t be mad at Angel for telling me.”
“I’m not. I’m glad she told you about them. I don’t want you to hate me.” With a sigh, I pushed back my chair. The last thing I wanted to do was get into a discussion of my tangled mess of a love life and I wasn’t about to open the door to Ray again. “Okay, let me look at your storeroom.”
Ray frowned, looking like he was going to argue, but then he shrugged and led me into the back. After he unlocked the door, I saw that the entire room had been trashed. Flour bags were ripped to pieces, honey jars had been tipped over and smashed and two of the bigger buckets of honey had been slashed. Nothing had been spared.
“Holy crap. Who did you piss off?”
“I have no idea. All I know is that no animal did this. The cops told me it was probably a raccoon. But what raccoon can do this much damage in a short amount of time? And the windows weren’t open. How did it get in?” He scuffed his shoe on the floor. “I thought maybe you could pick up on whatever came through here.”
I nodded, taking care not to enter the room, at least not yet. The cops were wrong. This hadn’t been the work of an animal. Nor did the damage feel human in origin. For one thing, Ray was right. The window was intact, so either the vandal had a key or could spell the door open.
I knelt, touching my hands to the floor just inside the door. Sometimes I could feel when strong emotions had passed through an area. They imprinted in space, or in the walls of buildings, or rooted into the very ground itself. Here, the residual feeling of anger hung heavy in the air, anger and…revenge.
“Whatever or whoever did this, I think they have a grudge against you. I can’t pick up more than that, but yeah, it wasn’t human or animal. I suggest you hire someone to ward your place. There’s a very talented witch who has a shop called Magical Endeavors. Her name is Lena. I suggest you talk to her, and while you’re at it, figure out who you’ve pissed off lately. My guess—somebody hired one of the sub-Fae to come in and tear up the joint.”
The sub-Fae were the dregs of Fae society, usually nasty tempered and often hiring themselves out as mercenaries to anybody at the right price. Like goblins, they weren’t welcome in the city, but all you had to do was hang out at one of the SubCult dives around town and you would run into at least one of them.
“Thanks, Ember. I appreciate it. You wouldn’t be interested in taking on the case and helping me out by hiring Lena…and so on?” He was standing too close for comfort.
I backed away a step. “Sorry,” I lied. “My schedule is booked up.” I yawned, pushing past him to return to the front of the shop. “I’d better get going. I have errands to run before I go home and crash.” I glanced over at the counter. “Wrap me up a loaf of French bread and a dozen white chocolate raspberry cookies, if you would.”
Ray crossed to behind the counter and fixed my order. As he handed it to me, our fingers touched. A familiar spark raced through me, but I ignored it. I didn’t dare go down that road again, not if I wanted him to be safe. Besides, I didn’t do clingy well, and Ray had shown definite signs of wanting more from me than I could give.
“How much do I owe you?”
“On the house. And it always will be.”
And with that, I headed back to my car as the morning rush began to trickle in. Overall, Ray was a good guy, and he was alive. I wanted him to stay alive.
MY CONDO WAS over in Seattle, in Spring Beach. At one time, the neighborhood had been suburban—the home of the rich. But now, it was row upon row of high rises and commercial buildings. Shiny chrome-and-glass blended in with older brick, making a hodgepodge of urban dwellings. Parks dotted the neighborhood, replacing the vast swaths of foliage that had surrounded once-massive estates. My building—the Miriam G Building—overlooked Puget Sound, and the rich colors of cloud and sky and ocean greeted me every morning when I got up.
I lived on the fifteenth floor, in unit 1515. Every now and then I worried about what might happen should we see another large earthquake like we had some years back, but the buildings in the area had been retrofitted—the ones that hadn’t crashed to the ground—and the newer ones were built to a strict code.
As I parked in the parking garage, it occurred to me that I might want to think about selling the place and buying a house on the outskirts of the city at some point. The condo was small, around eight hundred square feet, and while I had two bedrooms, my guest room also housed my arsenal of weapons.
I glanced around the dark garage. Even during the day it was spooky. The building had been built about thirty years ago, and the developer had gone bankrupt. The bank had repossessed the apartments and sold the Miriam G to another buyer, who had decided to sell them as condos. Eventually, when I was looking for a place, a unit came up for sale and I bought it. I’d been living here since I was twenty-five. It wasn’t fancy, but the view was worth the money, although the area I lived in wasn’t exactly a safe haven.
I slipped out of the car and quickly made my way to the elevator. Luckily, there was nobody else waiting—I didn’t trust all of my neighbors—and within a few moments I was at my apartment door.
MR. RUMBLEBUTT WAS waiting for me. He was a Norwegian forest cat, sixteen pounds with fur that made him look like a giant tribble on legs. He was sitting on the back of the sofa, staring at the front door. When I entered, he let out a disgruntled purp, jumped down, and headed toward the kitchen.
“All right, I know breakfast is overdue.” As I opened the can and put his chunky chicken on the floor, I started to yawn, so tired I could barely think. I crossed over to the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the Puget Sound and pulled open the curtains. A wash of daylight broke through the gloom and I leaned against the armchair that looked directly out onto the balcony. The thought of falling asleep staring at the water sounded good to me, but I knew my back wouldn’t thank me when I woke up. So I trudged into the bathroom, stripped and, leaving my clothes on the floor, stepped into a hot shower.
I was too tired to wash my hair, so after I finished up, I dragged a brush through it and padded to my bed. I debated on opening the curtain so I could look out on the water as I slept but decided the light would probably keep me awake. So I slid under the covers, closed my eyes, and within minutes was dead to the world.