Chapter One
Chapter One Daylight had broken just minutes ago, knitting darkness and light together in shades of deep violet and orange. A gusty desert breeze flung dirt onto the windshield of Ida’s 1972 LTD. My partner Fennel purred next to me. It wasn’t a happy purr. “I’m sure we can get right in and out with no fuss at all.” Ida was usually wrong about such things, but it didn’t matter. I’d taken the job, and I’d get it done, no matter how long it took. Fennel purred louder. “Do you think it’s a ghost?” Ida asked, waggling the eyebrows I’d drawn on her face before leaving this morning. She maintained that my steadier hand kept her from looking unintentionally angry or surprised. My bestie had just turned eighty, not that age had slowed her down. She ran 5Ks on the regular, could pass for Helen Mirren on a good day, and had a personality like fine champagne—sparkling and dry, with just the right amount of sweetness. She was also a retired professional necromancer, which was why I’d brought her along for this job—well, that and because she was the one who’d gotten me the job in the first place. “If we’re lucky, it’s just a kid pranking the mayor.” “Carmen doesn’t have any kids,” Ida said. “Like me, she never wanted them.” “Doesn’t have to be Mayor Derecho’s kid. Could be someone else’s.” I fastened a delicate gold collar around the cat’s neck then gave him a scratch between his cute black ears. “What’s got you all worked up, Fennel? You weren’t this purry when we faced off with a demon two months ago.” “He’s mad we woke him up,” Ida said. “Should’ve brought the gnome, instead.” “Meow,” he replied, and yawned. He was not a morning cat. “Cecil’s even less of a morning person, and he has a propensity toward violence when inconvenienced.” “Fair point,” Ida said. “Also, it’s Cinco de Mayo, remember? So, it’s been almost three months since the demon. If you’re talking about the highway one.” “I was talking about the big bad one.” I stared at the early morning sky, wishing I were still curled up like a warm little shrimp in my comfy bed. “It’s worrisome that we have to specify which, isn’t it?” I was referring to Belial, the demon who’d attacked me in my own parking lot a couple months ago. I still had nightmares from when he’d shoved my head through a portal into hell. I’d been lucky to make it out of that salt circle alive; if Ida hadn’t humbled herself and called one of her worst enemies to come to my rescue, I wouldn’t have. She shrugged. “Like I told you before, we all have demons, Betty. It’s not like yours are any worse than the rest of ours.” “After dealing with Belial, I’d have to disagree.” “Okay, you got me there. That one was super scary.” “And Bertrand Sexton, of course.” “Yeah.” She flicked a glance at me. “Sexton’s another story.” I was grateful she hadn’t referred to him as “Grandpa Sexton” this time. I’d only recently discovered the cemetery demon was my grandfather, and I still hadn’t adjusted to the news. I was avoiding the demon like he was a … well, a demon. Ida hung a left and coasted down a quiet street in a new development outside Smokethorn. The city, not the county. Smokethorn the county encompassed several towns, the largest of which was La Paloma, and the smallest was an incorporated area an hour from here called East Pluto. Each had its own mayor and operated largely independently from the other. The county population was somewhere around 170,000, so most of our towns were cozy. Well, not exactly cozy. Desert folk liked their space and tended to sprawl. Paranormal desert dwellers doubly so. “So you think the kid pranking the mayor is a paranormal?” Ida asked. “Probably. Though I’m not convinced it’s a kid. That was more of a hopeful guess.” I counted the empty houses in the high-end development. It seemed the mayor was the only occupant on her street. Each home sat on an acre of land, and the lack of people combined with the large land parcels made it seem particularly lonely. “So, not a human.” “I don’t know many humans capable of astral projecting their image into another person’s home. I don’t know many paranormals who can do something like that, outside of mages, witches, and dire wolf shifters.” And demons. Couldn’t forget the damn demons. “We don’t know that it’s their image,” she said. “The photo only shows a tall, hooded figure. Personally, I’m holding out for ghost.” “If so, you’ll be coming out of retirement for the morning and taking the lead.” I wasn’t being facetious. As a necromancer, Ida was the ideal person to convince a ghost to take a hike. “Got it.” Ida docked the LTD in front of Mayor Derecho’s palatial ranch-style home. The front yard had been xeriscaped to resemble a desert creek, complete with trickling water. Recirculated, most definitely. The mayor was well-known as a stickler for water conservation. “Should we park in front?” Ida asked. “No reason not to. If the person is projecting from a distance, they feel safe. Our presence won’t bother them.” “And if it’s a ghost?” She shut off the engine and shoved the keys into her pocket. “Same thing.” We disembarked, and Fennel shot off to the back of the house, where there was easy roof and attic access. None of us thought the culprits were on site, but it was smart to make sure. Ida waved at the front door. “Good morning, Carmen.” “Betty, Ida, thank you for coming.” Mayor Derecho drew the front of her bathrobe tighter around her chest with one hand and held a steaming mug to her lips with the other. She was in her early sixties, tall with a slim build. Her shoulder-length ebony hair was elegantly threaded with white, her brown skin lightly creased by time. She was kind, levelheaded, and shrewd—by far the best mayor this little town had ever had. I’d re-registered in California even when I hadn’t been sure how long I’d be staying, just to cast my vote for her. “Mayor Derecho, what are you doing out here?” I asked. “I assumed you’d be asleep, since you gave Ida a key.” “Carmen, please,” she said, motioning us inside. “I’d planned to be asleep, but my uninvited houseguest decided to show up early.” “Where?” I asked. “In the kitchen. It’s still there.” “Perfect. We can have some coffee while we talk to it.” Ida strolled through the front door, no hesitation in her hot-pink-sneakered step. She was dressed from head to toe in the color, from her sweatshirt to her socks. I, on the other hand, was dressed from sweater to boots in black, as usual. “Betty, I hated calling you and Ida out so early, but this is becoming something of an annoyance. I’ve got an important meeting coming up with the city council, and I’d rather not be distracted.” I was a little taken aback by her casual attitude. “You don’t seem afraid of this thing.” “No,” she said on a sigh. It was immediately apparent why she’d sighed her response. “Geez Louise, if you were going to go to the trouble of haunting someone, you could have at least put some effort into it.” Ida poured herself a cup of coffee and regarded the hooded figure. It had the look of a ghost, ephemeral and smoky, with charcoal holes for eyes, a gaping mouth, and a large warty nose that protruded from the hood. It reminded me of the evil queen’s disguise from Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs. It floated menacingly from the stove to the fridge to the back door. The thing was less The Exorcist and more Scooby-Doo Where Are You? scary. Which was to say, it wasn’t frightening at all. Ida set down her mug to pour another and leaned in as she handed it to me. “Not a human spirit.” I appreciated the necromancer confirmation, but I’d already figured that out. Human spirits have a certain presence—an air of dignity. This thing had all the gravitas of a three-day-old dead fish. “Do you have any creamer?” I asked the mayor. “In the refrigerator.” She fiddled with the volume of a small radio on the counter. The local oldies station, KLXX, played the stunningly appropriate “Ebony Eyes” by Bob Welch, a seventies rock hit from when my mom was in junior high school. “Starting to think that radio station is run by an empath,” Ida said. “That’s an interesting theory.” The mayor smiled mysteriously over the rim of her coffee cup. Ooo, she definitely knew something. The creature floated from the stove to the fridge. I stepped right through it to grab the creamer. It was cold and a little damp—the creature, not the creamer—and when I shut the fridge, it let out a squeal of pain at my retreat. I poured creamer into my coffee and leaned against the counter. Stared directly into the being’s eyes. “All right, who are you?” The creature let out a humming sound. “Was that a boo?” Ida asked. “It’s hard to tell.” “Die,” it booed. “Lame,” I said. The creature rushed me, coming close enough for me to peer into its cavernous eyes. There was something familiar about the shape of those eyes, the twist of that mouth… “You had a contentious mayoral race,” I said to the mayor without taking my eyes off the creature. “Yes. I ran against former mayor Felicia Juarez.” “And you beat her, fair and square,” I said, still watching the being. One of the eyes pinched slightly. A reaction. “Well, yes.” The mayor eyed me curiously. “Or I wouldn’t be mayor.” “But you didn’t only beat the old mayor. You humiliated her by garnering ninety percent of the vote. A veritable landslide victory. Historical.” “I heard even Juarez’s kids didn’t vote for her.” Ida instantly picked up on what I was doing. “Is that what you heard, Betty?” “Yep.” The being’s gaping mouth sewed itself shut, but not before a whisper-quiet, “Lies,” floated out. “I’m certain that’s untrue,” Mayor Derecho said. “Felicia and I had differing political views, but she ran a professional race, and I’m sure her family was in full support of her.” “Someone printed campaign signs with Bye Felicia on them.” Ida snickered. The “ghost’s” mouth cinched until I could barely see it. “That was you,” I said. “I was with you when you ordered them.” The ghostly being bobbled up and down. If steam could’ve erupted from its ears, it surely would’ve. “Trini, Jaq, and Xandra helped me put them up,” Ida said. “Bitches,” the creature screamed. “Mayor Derecho, I present former Mayor Juarez.” I took a sip of my coffee. It had undertones of chocolate and was a little acidic. Guatemalan blend, I’d bet. Delicious. “Felicia?” The mayor sounded shocked, but I’d bet she’d suspected her former opponent all along. She was too smart not to. “You’re all bitches.” “Stop with the sexist slurs,” I said. “There’s nothing worse than a female misogynist.” “Assholes,” the spirit/Felicia spat. “That’s better,” I said. “How are you doing this? Witch spell? Mage?” “Got it from a coven member,” she said. “I’d have gone to you, but I knew what you’d done to my campaign.” The La Paloma coven. Why was I not surprised? Margaux Ramirez, the coven mother, had been on my shit list since she’d declined to lift a finger to help Mom on the day she was killed. What’s worse was my mom had considered her a friend. “Hey, now, that campaign business was me.” Ida finished her coffee and set the mug in the sink. “Betty wasn’t involved in the sign thing. She just voted for Carmen is all.” “I’m not talking about that. She,” Felicia jabbed a finger at me, “blocked Alpha Pallás from running for mayor of La Paloma.” Ida, Carmen, and I all looked at each other in confusion. “What’s one got to do with the other?” Ida asked. “The alpha leader and I were a team. Together, we would’ve merged Smokethorn and La Paloma into one city. The business opportunities would’ve been enormous.” “If that were the case, Smokethorn wouldn’t have needed a mayor,” I said. “You’d have merged yourself out of a job.” “I would’ve been the mayor of La Paloma. Alpha would’ve stepped down once we’d formed the conurbation of our towns.” Ida and I burst out laughing. “If you believe Alpha Floyd was going to relinquish even a drop of power, I’ve got some herbal weight loss supplements to sell you,” I said, practically bent over with laughter. “Lose twenty pounds in five days, only 59.99.” The ex-mayor’s projection’s mouth tightened in obvious annoyance. “Conurbation sounds like something you do by yourself in the dark,” Ida said. Carmen chuckled. “It means an urban area comprised of smaller towns or suburbs.” “Like a county?” While the mayor explained the specifics to Ida, I set my attention on the ex-mayor. “What did you hope to accomplish by showing up here?” “I wanted to run her out of town.” “If that happened, you still wouldn’t be mayor. You’re not even on the city council anymore.” She scowled—even harder than she’d already been scowling, which was saying something. “There’s a statute that can be enacted if an acting mayor steps down. As a former town leader, I could’ve called for an emergency election.” “You got ten percent of the vote last time,” Ida said. “How many times do you want to lose?” “Shut up,” Felicia snarled then turned to me. “What did you have on Alpha Pallás, anyway?” Ida answered for me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I looked through her projection to the hallway where Fennel sat, his tail gracefully wrapped around his sleek black feet. “Ready?” I took a last sip of coffee and set the mug on the counter. “Ready for what?” The ex-mayor whipped her projection’s head around, looking from Carmen to Ida to me. Fennel padded lightly into the kitchen behind the spirit. Now that he was in the light, the evidence of his trek through the attic was obvious. His fur was draped in cobwebs and there was a patch of dust on his back. “Ready for what?” The grotesque face drew into a vicious frown, giving her projection its first truly frightening characteristic. “I asked you a question, you dumb witch bit—” “Tráela aquí,” I said, then repeated it in English for good measure. “Bring her here.” Fennel screeched and jumped, claws extended. The collar around his neck glimmered with magic as he flew at the ex-mayor. His claws locked onto something solid in the projection, and he gripped it like a lifeline. “What are you—ahhhhhhhh,” Felicia screamed. The misty body she’d projected into the kitchen solidified limb by limb, section by section, starting at her feet and working up to her head. “Back up,” I said, and motioned to Ida and Carmen. While Fennel dragged the ex-mayor’s corporeal form into the room, I withdrew a bag of soil from my pocket and dribbled it on the tile, forming a hasty containment circle. They weren’t just for demons. Even a shifter could be trapped in a containment circle if you chanted the right spell. Felicia Juarez was beyond pissed, and if she shifted, we would all be in danger. “Maybe we should’ve called your boyfriend before we took on another shifter,” Ida said from the other side of the room. “One, Ronan’s not my boyfriend, two, he’s perpetually unavailable these days, and three, I don’t need shifter backup. I am an elemental witch, Fennel has more magic in his tail than most mages have in their whole body, and Cecil crafted the collar.” “That’s her garden gnome,” Ida explained to Carmen. “He’s a master gardener and also possesses fae magic. Mean as they come but smart.” “This is all a bit overwhelming,” Carmen said. “I knew about magicals and shapeshifters, but I had no idea there were fae creatures in town—or anywhere. I didn’t know they existed. Are there other fae around here? Have I met them?” “Depends,” Ida replied. “Where do you buy your coffee?” “What have you done?” Felicia shrieked. “How did you—? What the hell is going on?” “What’s going on is you’re in violation of the shifter treaty. You attacked the mayor—a human. If I report you to your alpha, she’ll be forced to take action against you.” “She’s a shapeshifter?” The mayor regarded her predecessor. “I never knew that.” “You’ve seen me in animal form more than once, Carmen.” Felicia rolled her eyes. “My son and I visited your office two weeks ago to pick up the last of my things. He told you I was his pet.” The ex-mayor tossed the evil queen mask and robe off and crouched. Soft fur bristled from her flesh, and her ears moved up and changed shape. Her face elongated and a long, thick tail sprouted from her back end. She stopped when she was fully hybrid—a halfway form equidistant from human and animal. “You’re a rat?” Carmen moved to approach the ex-mayor but stopped when I shook my head. I wasn’t risking my favorite mayor. “A rat politician,” Ida muttered. “At this point, the jokes are writing themselves.” “Got to admit, you hid your animal well. Honestly, I thought you were some sort of feline,” I said. “Don’t insult me any more than you already have.” Felicia haughtily angled her chin. However, since she was still crouched on the floor the look didn’t have much power. There wasn’t anyone for her to look down on. My partner sat outside the containment circle cleaning his paws, appearing unfazed by her disdain for his kind. Fennel knew his worth. “You’re part of the La Paloma rat pack?” I asked. Ida opened her mouth. “No Frank Sinatra jokes,” I said. She kept it open, so I added, “No Molly Ringwald jokes, either.” Finally, she clamped it shut. “No rat pack, no brat pack—you’re no fun.” “Take that back, Ida May Summer,” I said without taking my gaze off Felicia. “I am too fun. Who else is going to break into the municipal pool at midnight to skinny dip and drink magic wine?” “Fine,” she grumbled. “You are. Just not this morning.” “That reminds me. You two need to stop doing that,” the mayor said. “There are cameras. You’re going to end up arrested for trespassing.” Ida scoffed. “Like it would be the first time.” “I didn’t attack her,” Felicia yelled. She lowered her voice and continued, “I wouldn’t have hurt you, Carmen.” “I know, Felicia,” Carmen said, with a kind smile. “You didn’t even scare me, really. I only called Betty and Ida because I thought you might be a spirit trying to tell me the developers built my house atop an abandoned cemetery or something.” She laughed. “We exhumed the bodies first,” Felicia said. The mayor stopped laughing. “I think she’s kidding,” I said. “Yeah.” Felicia grinned sheepishly, which was a look I’d never seen on a half human-half rat face. “When we okayed this land for development, it had been an alfalfa field for decades. No cemetery. No dead bodies.” Carmen laughed again. “You got me.” “That makes once.” Felicia’s face fell. “Sorry I behaved like such an ass. I really wanted to win the election, and I think it made me a little irrational.” A little irrational? “The thing is, I had all these plans for this little town, and they hinged on us merging with La Paloma.” Carmen was silent for a long moment. “Would you be open to sharing them with me?” she asked. “Perhaps we can find a way to implement some of them. I’m firmly against merging our city with any other, but I am open to expanding our business holdings.” The flicker of hope in Felicia’s eyes made me feel sorry for her. “That sounds … nice.” She shifted all the way back to human, not noticing—or perhaps minding—that she was stark naked without her cloak. “There are a couple that, scaled down, might work.” Mayor Carmen kept her gaze firmly on Felicia’s face. “Let’s meet this morning at nine. My office? I’ll pick up coffee and those delightful lavender scones from the Desert Rose Café and we’ll chat while we eat.” “I’d like that.” Tears glistened in the corners of the ex-mayor’s eyes. “I apologize for calling you ladies names. I was so angry and frustrated. I thought you’d all— Never mind. It was rude and unacceptable. I was being a sore loser.” “You thought we’d plotted against you and Alpha Pallás in the election,” I said. She nodded. “We didn’t plot against you. We disagreed with several of your policies and voted against you. That’s not the same thing.” I had, however, plotted against Alpha Floyd in that election. I was still plotting against the Pallás pack leader. He wasn’t a person who should ever have that sort of power and never would, if I could help it. “Let me clean up here, and we’ll give you a ride home.” I grabbed the broom and dustpan I’d spotted tucked into a nook beside the pantry and swept up the containment circle. “You’d better put on your cape. We don’t want anyone thinking we were throwing some weird sex party with the mayor,” Ida said as she finished her coffee. A little crass, but Felicia must’ve agreed because she threw the cloak over her shoulders, knotting it at her throat. I poured the dirt back into my bag. It was my soil, and I didn’t intend to leave any of it behind. Palms hovering over the last of it, I chanted a spell to draw it up and into my hands. The heated grains burned for a split second before being absorbed into my skin. Delicious magic zinged through my bloodstream. “Thank you, ladies,” Carmen said. “Anytime,” I said. Ida rinsed off our mugs in the sink, and the three of us walked out. “Well, that was a real downer. I was hoping to see a ghost. It’s been a while,” Ida said. We were in the LTD, Fennel and Ida in the front seat, the ex-mayor and me in the back. Fennel purred in agreement. Apparently, he’d wanted to see a ghost, too. I, on the other hand, was all done with things that weren’t alive—ghosts, demons, gods, and anything else not of this world. “So your alpha doesn’t know what you did?” I asked Felicia. “Today and before?” “Of course not. The thing with Alpha Pallás was personal business, not shifter. The rats and the wolves are cautious allies. We stay out of each other’s way.” “Not sure your alpha would see it that way.” “Probably not.” Felicia’s gaze settled on her tightly knotted hands. “Are you going to report me to the pack, Betty?” “No.” I sighed, tired in body and soul. “I believe you when you said you didn’t intend to harm the mayor.” “Thank you. I don’t deserve your trust, but I’m grateful for it. I’m an old fool.” “In more ways than one,” Ida said. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Felicia scowled. “What Ida is saying, albeit rudely, is Alpha Pallás was using you. He’d never have handed over the mayor position. He was planning to cut you out the second you turned Smokethorn over to him.” I looked from her to my purse on the floorboard. Sighed again. “I’m going to show you something, but I need you to make a binding promise to me that you won’t tell anyone.” “You sure about this, Betty?” Ida peered at me in the rearview mirror. “That’s part of your leverage against him. Part of what keeps you safe.” “She deserves to know the truth.” “Is this about Alpha Pallás?” Felicia asked. “Yes.” “I’ll make that promise.” She stuck out her hand, and I grasped it. “You agree not to tell or hint to a single soul what I’m about to reveal to you. Not friends, not family, not even Mayor Derecho.” “I agree and give you my word.” A second of sizzling pain burned our palms, but we held tight until the agreement was sealed in magic. Then I pulled my cell phone from my bag, downloaded a video from my cloud service, and played it for her. The video focused on a fixed object on the wall, a portrait of a wolf, in the alpha leader’s office rather than his face, but his distinctive gravelly voice could be heard clearly. “The rats are fools. Always have been. Trusting fools.” Floyd went on to detail his plan to manipulate the county rat packs into handing over control of their people to him. He explained how it involved the La Paloma and Smokethorn mayoral races. He mentioned Felicia by name several times. “The perfect mark. She’s moneygrubbing, trusting, and too stupid to see how powerless she is. Typical rat.” And then he laughed. “That son-of-a-bastard.” The ex-mayor’s voice lowered until it was little more than a growl. “That Machiavellian, shameless, backstabbing liar. I’ll show that traitor who’s powerless.” Ida glanced at her in the rearview mirror, and Fennel poked his head over the seat. I was already watching her, waiting for the fit of rage that was sure to follow. But Felicia Juarez did not rage. Instead, she got even quieter.
