Numb, my grip tightened on the counter. "Let's go," I whispered, turning to the door.

Jenks's wings were a harsh clatter. "You need this stuff, Rache!"

I shook my head. "She won't let us buy it." I swallowed. "No one will."

"What about Matalina?" he said, panic icing his voice.

My air slipped from me, and I turned back to the counter. "Please," I said, Jenks's wings making my hair tickle my neck. "His wife is ill. The tansy will help. Just let us buy this one thing, and I'll never come back. It's not for me."

Her head shook no. All her fear was gone, washed away by the confidence she found when she realized I wasn't going to give her trouble. "There are places for witches like you," she said tartly. "I suggest you find them."

She meant the black market. It wasn't to be trusted, and I wouldn't seek it out. Damn it, I had been shunned! No witch would sell to me. No witch would trade with me. I was alone. Absolutely alone. Shunning was a tradition that stretched back before the days of the pilgrims, and it was 100 percent effective; one witch couldn't grow, find, or make everything. And once shunned, it was seldom revoked.

Her chin lifted. "Get out or I'll call the I.S., for harassment."

I stared at her, believing she'd do it. Denon would love that. Slowly I pulled my hand off the counter.

"Come on, Rachel," Jenks said. "I probably have some tansy under the snow somewhere. If you don't mind getting it for me."

"It's wet," I said, bewildered. "It might be moldy."

"It will be better than the crap they sell here," he shot back, flipping the woman off as he flew backward to the door.

Feeling unreal, I followed him. I wouldn't be able to check anything out of the library either. This was so not fair!

I didn't feel Jenks snuggle in between my scarf and my neck. I didn't remember opening the door or the cheerful tingling of the bells. I didn't remember walking to my car. I didn't remember waiting for traffic before I edged into the street. Suddenly, though, I was standing at the door to my car with my keys in my hand, the bright sun gleaming on the red paint, making me squint.

I blinked, going still. My motions slow and deliberate, I stuck the key in the lock and opened it. I stood there a moment with my arm on the fabric roof, trying to figure it out. The sun was just as bright, the wind just as crisp, but everything was different. Inside, something was broken. Trust in my fellow witches, maybe? The belief that I was a good person, even if there was black on my soul?

I had an appointment in twenty minutes, but I had to sit for a while, and I didn't know if the coffee shop on the tower's first floor would serve me. Word of a shunning traveled fast. Slowly I got in and shut the door. Outside, a truck rumbled past where I'd been moments before.

I was shunned. I wasn't a black witch, but I might as well have been.

Twenty

It was with a new feeling of vulnerability that I stood before the double glass doors of the Carew Tower and adjusted my hat in the murky reflection, and I jumped when the doorman leaned forward and opened it for me. A warm gust of air blew my hair back, and he smiled, tipping his hat in salute when I came in with small steps and whispered, "Thank you."

He answered me cheerfully, and I forced myself to straighten up. So I had been shunned. Edden wouldn't know. Neither would Ms. Walker unless I told her. If I walked up there looking like prey, she would chew me up and spit me out.

My jaw clenched. "Stupid department of moral and ethical standards has their head up their ass," I muttered, determined to fight this all the way to the Supreme Court—but the reality was, no one would care.

The restaurant at the top of the tower had its own dedicated elevator, and I could feel the doorman's eyes on me as I clicked and clacked my way to it, forcing myself to find a confident posture. The elevator, too, had a doorman of sorts, and I told him who I was and gave Edden's name as he checked his computer for reservations.

I hiked my bag up higher on my shoulder and read the restaurant's events sign as I waited. Apparently someone had reserved the entire restaurant for a party tomorrow.

My flagging confidence took another hit as I remembered Pierce. I was shunned, my ex-boyfriend's killer was roaming free, I was doubting my ability to stir something as complex as a locator amulet, Al was abusing our relationship…I had to start fixing things.

Jenks moved, startling me as he wiggled out and sat on my shoulder. "Your pulse just dropped," he said warily. "Is your blood sugar low?"

I shook my head, smiling thinly at the doorman when he got off the phone and pushed the button to open the elevator. "I've got a lot to do today," I said as I got in the small, opulent lift.

"And we're late," Jenks grumbled as he took off his cap and tried to arrange his hair in the reflection of the shiny walls. He had flitted to the wide banister circling the inside of the elevator, and twin pixies made an impressive display of winged physique.

I forced myself to straighten as I checked that my complexion charm was in place. Shun me, would you? "It's called arriving fashionably late, Jenks," I murmured as I took my own hat off and tucked a curl behind an ear.

"I hate being late," he complained, making faces to pop his ears as the pressure shifted.

"It's a five-star restaurant," I came back with. "They won't have a problem waiting."

The lift chimed and the doors slid open. Jenks moved to my shoulder with a huff, and together we looked out onto the revolving restaurant.

My posture relaxed in pleasure, and I stepped out, smiling, as my worries seemed to pale. Below me the river wound a slush gray ribbon through the white hills of Cincinnati. The Hollows lay beyond, peaceful in the coming dusk. The sun was nearing the horizon, painting everything with a red-and-gold sheen, and clouds reflected it all. Beautiful.

"Ma'am?" a masculine voice prompted, and I brought my gaze inside. He looked like the twin of the guy downstairs, right down to the black suit and blue eyes. "If you'll follow me?"

I'd been up here only once before, with Kisten for breakfast, and I silently walked behind the host, taking in again the rich fabrics; the Tiffany lights; and the mahogany, pre-Turn tables with carved feet. Rosemary and pink rosebuds were on every table. The sight of the booth where Kisten and I had shared morning conversation over French toast made a surprisingly soft ache in me, more fond remembrance than hurt, and I found I could smile, glad that I could think of him without heartache.

The place was empty but for the staff setting up for tonight, and after passing a small stage and dance floor, I spotted Edden at a window table with an attractive older woman. She was Ceri's size, dark where the elf was light, with very thick black hair, falling straight on her back. Her nose was small, and she had thick lips and luscious eyelashes. It wasn't a young face, but her few wrinkles made her look wise and venerable. Graceful, aged hands moved when she talked, and she wore no rings. She sat across from Edden, slim and upright in her stark white, full-length dress, not resting against the back of her chair. Ms. Walker had the view—as well as the poised presence that said she was in charge.

Jenks's wings brushed my neck, and he said, "She looks like Piscary."

"You think she's Egyptian?" I whispered, confused.

Jenks snorted. "How the Turn should I know? I meant she is in control. Look at her."

I nodded, disliking the banshee already. Edden hadn't noticed us, fixated on what she was saying. He looked good in his suit, having worked hard to keep his shape through the late-thirties meltdown and into his midfifties. Actually…he seemed captivated by the woman, and a warning flag went up. Anyone as self-possessed and beautiful as she was was dangerous.