Page 4 of Haunted Eclipse

“Well, first, I have a natural talent for finding matches for my clients. I use my magic, as well as other, more traditional, methods. I access the IMDB, Washington division. That would be the Independent Matchmaker’s Data Base. Potential candidates who sign up through there are subjected to rigorous background checks.”

“So, doIsign up for this database?”

“You can if you want, but you don’t have to. For one thing, the clients can’t access it. The database is an industry-only business. Matchmakers are the only ones who have access, and most of us begin our searches there. If you want me to add you, I can. Regardless, I’m going to have you fill out a comprehensive form for me to show me just what you’re looking for. Then, I get to work. I use both the database, and my own instincts to find you a match. While I can’t guarantee success, at my old job, Ihad a 90% success rate. In fact, that’s why they laid me off,” I said.

“Why on earth would they let you go with that high of a success rate?” Brenda asked.

I glanced up at her, suddenly realizing just how pretty she was. She had long brown hair streaked with honey-colored highlights. Her eyes were coffee-brown, and her features—refined. She wasn’t willowy, but sturdy and she looked strong. I had the feeling that I wouldn’t have a problem finding her a match.

“Because, I cut into their business. You see, a lot of matchmaking sites base their company off the weight loss or gambling methodology. You build up repeat clientele by never actually helping them reach success. You give them enough hope—help them lose a few pounds, or win a few dollars. Just enough to believe thatthistime, they might actually hit the jackpot, be it money or a partner. Only, you rig it so that it seldom actually works. When I started making match after match and the couples made it to the altar, they let me go.” I shook my head. “I don’t like leading my clients on. If I can’t make a match, I’ll tell them.”

She pulled out her wallet. “How much?”

I grinned. Honesty worked wonders. “I charge a non-refundable fee of five hundred dollars, and that covers four matches. For each match after that, it’s another hundred dollars. If we find a mate for you and you make it to the altar, there’s a thousand dollar charge. But I never just randomly throw people together. I want to be sure they’ll be compatible.”

Brenda handed me her credit card. “I trust you,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

As I ran her card, then sat her down in front of a laptop to fill out the extensive form I’d developed, I thought that maybe thisbusinesswouldwork. Maybe coming back to Midnight Point was the best decision I’d made in ages.

CHAPTER TWO

I closedup and headed back to my aunt’s house at five on the dot. As I turned onto Sequoia Drive, a light snow began to fall. When we got snow in the Pacific Northwest, it more often than not came in January and February, rather than December. Predictions called for a couple inches, with more due come the weekend. We were in a La Niña year and that made a difference.

I eased into the driveway. Astra’s car was there, and the lights were on in the snug one-story, four-bedroom rambler. The front door light was on, which was helpful. It was still dark come early evening and, with the cloud cover, it seemed even darker.

I crossed the strip of lawn to the porch and stopped under the light to look for my keys. But Dahlia—Astra’s dog—began to bark and my aunt opened the door, peeking out.

“I thought it might be you,” she said. “Get back! Dahlia, go into the kitchen,” she said, as Dahlia poked her head out. The Pomeranian was feisty, and she could be a holy terror when she wanted to. But she had learned right away that getting in a Maine Coon’s face wasn’t the best idea, especially when that Maine Coon outweighed her three times over. Dahlia gave me the once over and, apparently satisfied, retreated.

“You sure have her trained well,” I said.

“I’d better,” Astra said. “Untrained poms are nasty little creatures.” She stood back as I opened the screen door and entered the foyer. I closed the door, shrugged out of my jacket, and then unzipped my boots and sat them on the shoe rack. I followed her into the kitchen and settled on one of the counter stools.

Miss P. came racing in, bounced up on the counter. She promptly gave my aunt awhat are you going to do about itlook.

Astra laughed. “I like her,” she said, reaching out to scritch under Miss P.’s chin. “I’ve never had a cat before,” she said.

“I haven’t either. I wanted to, but…”

“I know, I know. Sara and I forbade it. We always had dogs. Cats seemed pretty high maintenance,” Astra said. “I’m sorry, now. I think we missed a lot of fun. At least you had dogs to play with, but now…I’d change my mind if I could and tell you yes.” She handed me a spoonful of the sauce she was working on.

I tasted it. Tomatoey, a little spice, a little wine, and sausage.

“Yum,” I said, licking my lips. “Spaghetti?”

“You like?” She looked pleased. My aunt loved to cook, and she was a genius with flavors. She was a kitchen witch, and it showed.

“I like, very much.” I pulled Miss P. over to me and rubbed my face in her fur. She smelled safe and warm, and the moment my skin touched her fur, I relaxed. “Thank gods I still have her,” I said. “I need to call the insurance company tomorrow and ask what the hold up on the check is. I should be getting it any day now.”

“You know you can stay here as long as you need to,” Astra said, putting the lid back on the sauce. “Ilikehaving you around. Dinner will be ready in about an hour. What are you doing tonight?”

“I know you don’t mind having me here, but I need to put down some roots again. I guess, if I had to have a house fire, it was the right time. With no job, I’d have had to sell the house anyway,” I said. “As far as tonight, I actually had a client sign with me today, so I’m going to look over her form and start the process. I have two tarot readings booked for tomorrow. Business will pick up as I become established, but I hate these interim times.”

I slid off the stool and gave her a kiss. At five-ten, Astra stood five inches taller than me, and she was one of those women who walked into the room and immediately commanded attention. She wasn’t what you’d call regal, but she had charisma, and she never feared to show anyone exactly who she was. At 78, she looked about twenty years younger. Given witches had a longer lifespan than humans, my aunt looked right about her age for our kind.

She was still active, and she loved the outdoors. Astra had a natural ability with food, the earth, and animals. She had tested with the Aseer, and the Aseer told her that her magic was aligned with the earth and with the home.

The Aseer, a class of witchblood who acted as both oracle and divinatory priestesses for the Court Magika, lived one to each shadow town. With a longevity beyond most witchblood, they were oracles—born for the job, like spirit shamans were.

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