Page 21 of In the Dark

She tried not to give in, marching steadily onward. Children would be running around their yards tomorrow, delighting in the snow. Working people would test the limits of their vehicles—and their nerves—to see if it was safe to drive to work.

Her life had been that simple once. But that was before. Now she raked her nails along her skin instead of someone else’s and tried not to cause any winter-related accidents.

Three good inches of powdery snow blanketed her beater car. Uncaring of curious eyes, Karsia summoned the wind to kick and blow until the snow pulled back to reveal rusted hunter-green paint.

“You’ve had long enough,” she spoke to Morgan even though he wasn’t around to hear her. “Now you’d better prepare for a visit.”

She drove unerringly to the small duplex in the heart of an old neighborhood. Here the large homes had been divided into separate dwellings made more affordable because of the split. Great oaks and maples bore the snow like graceful old women draped in ermine.

She’d never set foot in his home before, had never looked it up on the map, but she easily followed Morgan’s energy signature. It wound through the town and down curving side streets, clear and strong. It was uniquely him and as powerful as any witch she’d ever met.

Soon the Victorian came into view with its plethora of gables and turrets. Once it had been beautiful and full of graceful lines and bright colors. Now the fence needed mending and only a hint of the former glory remained in the alligator-like scales of peeling paint. Shingles hung at lopsided angles, begging for a nail and hammer.

She felt the same way.

Pulling into the driveway, Karsia cut the lights and listened to the engine sputter and die. She closed the door behind her and stalked toward the front door of the lower apartment. Propriety dictated she knock, go through the pleasantries, and wait to be invited inside.

She pressed ahead, the tumblers of the lock undoing themselves under her manipulations. Using her shoulder, she pushed the door open and took in the tiny entry foyer. She caught glimpses of antiques piled with knickknacks collected over a lifetime. The house smelled of dust and pine-scented cleaner and history. Oak floors original to the house had been stained and sanded innumerable times. Red-and-gold runners protected the halls from wear and tear.

Karsia turned right.

Morgan sat amidst his books, a sinking ship in a sea of paper, cross-legged in the middle of the floor. His glasses slid low on his nose, prompting him to push them up repeatedly.

“Somehow I knew you would find your way here.” He didn’t look up with the greeting, flipping through pages and finding nothing of value. “I didn’t think it would take you this long.”

Her brows knit together. The last thing she wanted to be was predictable. “Professor Gauthier.”

“Miss Cavaldi.”

He motioned her toward the only area of the den with room to spare. “Tread carefully and make yourself at home, although I don’t know where you’ll land.”

“You’re not going to ask how I knew where to find you? How I got into your home?” She cocked her head but moved where he pointed.

Winding amidst the piles, Karsia made it to the desk and hoisted herself up, with only several items knocked out of the way. It didn’t faze her when she knocked a purple-flecked geode to the floor and watched pieces break off.

“I had a feeling you would come, so no, I don’t need to ask. Call it intuition. I’d offer you something to eat but it seems I devoured the last of the leftovers. My apologies.”

“I’m not hungry. Are you having any luck?” Karsia lifted a large tome and perused the pages, fighting back a sneeze when flecks of dust rose from the binding.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I say no. I’m realistic, not optimistic.”

No argument there, Morgan decided, and glanced up at her. “No doubt. You don’t exactly exude warm and sunny perpetual cheer.”

She grinned evilly and shucked her coat aside. “What an insightful impression, Professor. And who said you needed those bottle-cap glasses? You obviously have a keen sense when it comes to deciding a person’s true nature.”

“Mm. Funny. Maybe I’ll rethink the cheer part.”

“That’s me, a bucket of chuckles. You should see me on a good day.”

Morgan surprised her when he changed the topic of conversation. “I heard about the cows.”

Karsia set down the book and picked up a small silver coin instead, turning it between her fingers. “Excuse me?”

“The cows you decided to explode last night after dinner. If you were still hungry you could have stayed, although I’ll have you know nothing went to waste. I brought your food home with me.” Morgan scratched his head and looked at the piles again. As though determined not to get upset. “Ate it tonight for dinner. Still scrumptious the second time around.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said slowly. She jerked her head and stared at the nearest stack of books.

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