She crossed her arms. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“No? Let’s start with the minor offenses, like sharing your rituals with your human husband. I saw Tommy’s Facebook album. If you were going to tell Cody what you are—which isn’t advisable, but not a crime—then you should have told him to be more discreet. That’s an exposure threat, which attracts the interest of both the council and the Cabals.”

“I didn’t—” She sucked in breath, rethinking the denial. “It was back when we were dating. He walked in on me doing a healing ritual. I had a big exam and felt a cold coming on. I told him I was Wiccan. That’s what he thinks. He wanted me to show him some magic for his frat party, and I made up a ritual. If you take a good look at Tommy’s photos, you’ll see it’s fake.”

“Maybe. But that’s just the first of your offenses, isn’t it?”

She brushed dust off her slacks. Buying time.

“I’m allowed to use my powers to benefit my family,” she said, chin lifting. “As long as I’m careful, I can do that.”

“Sure. You can entertain the baby with a light show. You can mix healing teas for your kids. You can set perimeter spells. Hell, if the neighbor’s brat was picking on yours, you could wallop him with a knockback ... if you knew the spell. But that’s not what we’re talking about, is it?”

“Don’t you have better things to do? Bigger crimes to punish?”

“Nope. But I will give you a chance to defend yourself.” I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes. Starting now.”

“Go to hell.”

I leaned against the wall. “I’m not a crusader, Tiffany. I might help Paige and the council, but I can be reasonable. Them? Not so much. So just tell—”

She spat at me. Missed. That didn’t save her from an energy bolt that had her eyes rolling back in her head as she hit the floor, flopping like a beached salmon. I stood over her.

“You want to try again?” I said.

“I have the right to protect—”

“Is someone actually threatening your family?”

“Besides you?”

“I’m only a threat if you or Cody had something to do with those murders. Otherwise, I don’t give a shit. Is anyone else threatening them?”

“What the hell do you know about families? You’re a spoiled brat who’s never had to worry about anyone but herself. If you had children, you’d understand that protecting them is about more than just fighting someone like you.”

“In other words, no. What you mean is that you’re using your powers to make money. Because, otherwise, your kids might not get the fancy sneakers they want.” I leaned over her. “You have no fucking idea what it’s like to need to put food on the table. You’re talking about lifestyle, not survival.”

“My children need—”

“Look around you, Tiffany, and you’ll see children who need. Like Kayla Thompson—”

“That whore’s daughter?” Tiffany’s lip curled.

I hit her with the internal fireball spell again and she screamed. I let her scream, writhing on the floor, and this time I didn’t hear Paige’s voice. I waited until she curled up in a ball, gasping. Then I launched it again, this time in her throat. Her eyes rolled, but she could only gag, smoke puffing with each breath. Again, I waited until the fire went out and she lay there, moaning.

“You’re going to have a sore throat for a few days,” I said. “But if you say one more word against Kayla or Paula Thompson, it’ll be the last word you ever say. Understood?”

She glared up at me.

“As for the rest, I’ll give you a few hours to think about it. Then I’m knocking on your door and you’re either talking to me or—”

“Or you’re hauling me in front of the council,” she croaked.

“If I’m in a good mood. But right now, Tiffany, I’m not in a good mood. You’ve got until three o’clock,” I said and walked away.

twenty-five

What the hell had happened with my knockback and energy-bolt spells? had spells didn’t fail—not ones I knew so well I bolt spells? My spells didn’t fail—not ones I knew so well I could cast them in my sleep.

As I thought about it, though, I remembered that lingering headache and my unsettled stomach. Nothing serious, but put them together and I could be coming down with something. The last time I’d had the flu, it had wiped me out, spell power, too.

But right now, my biggest worry was that I’d made a mistake by walking away and leaving Tiffany with a warning. I’d wanted to push harder, yet I’d realized that I didn’t have any leverage. All I knew was that she’d done something she thought worthy of council attention. I needed more information.

Molly said the ritual was druidic. I kind of hoped she was wrong, because that added another complication to a case that didn’t need it, not when I was already following leads on witchcraft and Santeria. Did that mean Tiffany Radu wasn’t the only supernatural hiding out in Columbus? Was she hiding? If so, from what? Was it related to the person stalking her? The person stalking me? Was that person involved in Michael’s death?

As I walked toward the Thompson home, I called Paige.

“So, how’s the beach?” I said when she answered.

“We saw it.”

“Through your resort room window?”

She gave a throaty laugh. “No. We went for a beach walk last night. Today we’re touring the volcano. Tomorrow we’re going into the rain forest.”

“Missing the point, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be lying on the beach, soaking up the rays ...”

Paige made a gagging noise. Even on vacation, it would take a binding spell to get her to stay still.

We talked for another couple of minutes. Then, as I was ready to hang up, she suddenly said. “Is everything okay, Savannah?”

“Hmm?”

“You sound a little off. Are you okay?”

My throat clenched and I gripped the phone. No, I’m not. The guy I went out with last night is dead. I found his body. I spent the night being interrogated by the cops. I don’t want to tell you what’s happening because you’re on vacation, and I can handle this, but I just feel ... lonely. I feel lonely.

“Everything’s fine,” I said.

A pause. “Okay, then, well, if you need us, just call.”

“I will.”

NEXT, JESSE CHECKED in to say he’d gotten tied up in Seattle—a client showed up just as he was grabbing stuff from the office. He was on his way now and would call me when he was in town.

I told him about Tiffany. I’m not sure what bothered him most: that she knew who I was or that we both thought someone was spying on us.

“The targeting of two witches doesn’t constitute a racially motivated pattern, as Lucas would say,” I said. “We could just have a random peeper.”

“Still, I don’t like it,” he said. “Be careful, okay?”

When I told him about the druidic link, he seemed far less concerned.

“Not many of them practice the old rites these days,” he said. “Who’s your source?”

“A friend of my mom’s.”

“We should check it out, but I suspect someone’s just trying to get in your good books, Savannah. Have you asked Adam to look into it?”

“Not yet. I thought I’d research it myself.”

“Let me handle it, then. I’ll send the pics to a Druid buddy, see what he says.”

I signed off and headed up the walk to confront Paula Thompson.

When I knocked, Kayla answered. She looked up at me, her thin face solemn. “I’m sorry about Detective Kennedy.”

“So am I.”

She nodded and backed up to let me in.

“Is your grandma—?”

“Right here.” Paula rounded the corner, wiping flour-dusted hands on her apron.

“Something smells good,” I said.

“It’s for you,” Kayla said. “When Mom died, people brought food over, so I told Grandma we should make you something. Usually it’s casseroles, but Grandma said you won’t want that in a motel room, so we’re making muffins. Do you like blueberry?”