Page 30 of Wicching Hour

I went to the tall Black woman with the clipboard. She seemed in charge—and looked vaguely familiar. She had broad shoulders and long braids coiled in a topknot.

“Hello. I’m Arwyn. You’re here to pack up my artwork.”

She looked up from her clipboard and smiled, two dimples appearing. “Ms. Corey?”

I nodded.

“Good to meet you.” She didn’t try to shake my hand, so Mary Beth had prepped her.

The woman checked her watch. “I’m Melissa Garra. I’ll be supervising the packing and shipping. We know this is a delicate project. I’m using my best people. We’re just waiting for one more.” A car pulled in and a young man jumped out and ran over. “And there he is.”

I looked over the crew of eight and realized why I was suddenly thinking about honey. Well, that and I recognized those dimples. “Garra? Are you any relation to Officer Nick Garra?” He was a black bear shifter and a member of the Supernatural Justice League. He was also Detective Osso’s cousin.

She nodded. “Nick’s my brother.” Gesturing to all the people gathered, she added, “In fact, these are all our cousins, second-cousins, whatnot.”

“So, if I were to bake some honey cookies for you, you’d all enjoy that?”

Seven of the eight all nodded eagerly. The eighth, the one who arrived late, raised his hand. “I’m whatnot. Could I have a cup of tea instead?”

I felt a small charge of magic from him. The others all seemed to be black bear shifters. This last one was not.

“I’m a Swan,” he volunteered, naming an old wicche family. “Not a very gifted one, I’m afraid. I know all about Coreys, though, and you. Growing up, Gran made sure we knew all the old families.” His fingers kept straying to a lump in his front pocket.

“Mr. Swan, I know my family doesn’t have the best reputation, but if your grandmother gave you a protection against me, chances are my wards won’t let you in the door.” I turned to Melissa. “May I speak freely?”

She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” She confirmed what I’d assumed. We were all supernaturals. There was no need to speak in code.

“Mr. Swan?” I gestured him forward. “You and I have the least sensitive hearing in this group. You should move closer.” When he did, I felt the gentle push of his grandmother’s fetish in his pocket. The Swans weren’t a powerful family, but they also weren’t riddled with sorcerers, like mine.

“You can call me Milo, ma’am,” he mumbled. Most of the workers shared a family resemblance with Melissa and Nick. Swan, though, was pale, skinny, and only a few inches taller than me.

“Thank you all for coming,” I began. “You already know who and what I am.” I patted Declan’s shoulder. “This is Declan, Alpha of the Big Sur Pack.” A few eyes widened at that. “Most of what you’ll be handling will be very delicate glass sculptures. The octopuses will be the most problematic, given their tentacles and unusual shapes. I’ve already given them a light protective spell, to make them a little stronger for the handling and packing.”

A young woman raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“We’ll be super careful, but why not just make them unbreakable?” She looked a lot like Melissa, but younger. Like my new employees Frank and Faith, she was probably still in high school.

“And what happens on the other end,” Melissa asked, “when some fancy executive drops his glass figurine on his marble floor and it bounces? Then Ms. Corey is a cheat who sells plastic instead of blown glass.”

“Exactly,” I said. “I know you guys are going to need to go in and out of the gallery, so I also want you to be aware of a stalker I’m dealing with.”

“He’s a little under six feet,” Declan said. “He has light brown hair, a beard, and dead blue eyes.” He glanced around. “Do you know what I mean?”

Everyone but Milo nodded. Milo glanced at the rest of the crew and then back at Declan and me. “Oh, like, his eyes are dead inside?”

Declan nodded and Milo said, “Got it.”

“This won’t help you,” Declan said to Milo before focusing on the rest of the team, “but he smells like stale coffee, cologne, and those fake forest car fresheners.”

The bear shifters all nodded, taking note.

“He drives a sedan that’s somewhere between tan and gold,” I told them.

“Chevy Malibu,” Declan specified.

“He’s human but obsessed,” I said. “I’ve given him a magical shove multiple times, but he keeps returning. Don’t let him in and please come tell me if you see him. I’ll be in my studio.”

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