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  “Or an acceptable amount, considering we’re in my car and left Austin city limits at least ten minutes ago.”

  Jack shrugged and went back to his computer, looking at the few notes he’d made over his first cup of coffee—before Marin had arrived. “No pack in Miersburg, but I’m waiting to hear from the Texas Pack leader—John Braxton—about any strays that may be in the area.”

  “Any other witches? Is Charlotte part of a coven, for example? Or does she have any local competition?” Marin asked.

  “Not according to the husband. The closest witch lives about two hours away and is a friend of Charlotte’s. What exactly would be competition for a local earth witch? There’s no active Coven of Light branch in the area.” Jack had checked on Coven connections before he’d taken the job. They were, basically, a large institution of whackadoo witch zealots, and he wasn’t getting anywhere near them if he could help it.

  “You know, earth witches are tied to their communities. Special teas for the sick, gardening advice for the neighbors, PTA president. That kind of thing can generate jealousy and a sense of competition, especially in such a small town.” Marin glanced at the GPS screen, tapped the screen to bring up the route map, then said, “This place has to be under twenty or thirty thousand, based on what I’m seeing on the GPS.”

  Jack stopped typing and watched her closely as he asked, “You’re from a small town, then?”

  Marin’s gaze didn’t waver from the road. “Or maybe I just know witches really well.”

  “Whatever. No local Coven of Light, no local witch rivalries. And the husband had no idea about other magic-users.” Jack googled Miersburg. “Around ten thousand. A town that small, I’m betting they’d know if there was a spell caster running around.”

  “Maybe.” Marin tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d pay a speeding ticket?”

  “No.”

  Apparently, she was willing to pick up the ticket herself. That, or riding with him was driving her nuts, because she didn’t reply and sped up to around eighty-five. Fine by him.

  Before he got wrapped up in research and forgot, he asked, “How did you get through my ward at the shop?”

  Marin pressed her lips together. “What do you know about dragons?”

  Jack squinted and adjusted his visor. “Let’s assume not much.”

  Marin sighed. “We’re not like Lycan, because we don’t shape-shift. I’m a dragon, and I’m a woman.”

  “Right—I got that part.”

  Marin huffed in annoyance. “I’m not sure you do. I’m dragon and human—at the same time.”

  She glanced at Jack, possibly to gauge his reaction. But he wasn’t even sure what his reaction was. What she described didn’t make sense. “Then why do I see either a dragon or a human whenever I’m around you guys? It seems like you’re picking one.”

  She didn’t quite roll her eyes—but it sure felt like she had. “I choose which part of myself you see. Which part interacts on a physical plane with this world, but that doesn’t mean I’m not both dragon and woman at the same time. You’re thinking in terms of humans with magical talents—a human who can use his magic to shift to a wolf, or crocodile, or jaguar. But I’m not a human with some magical ability. It’s not a question of having magic—I am magic.”

  What the fuck? Jack asked the first question that came to mind. “Are you supposed to tell people this shit?”

  She gave him one of those toothy smiles. “Most are smart enough not to ask.”

  She definitely used that creepy smile to intimidate.

  “Cut it out with the dragon grin. How does all of this apply to walking through my ward?”

  Marin shrugged. “I choose which part of myself exists at any given time in this world, but I can choose, for a very brief moment, to allow neither of my forms to exist in this world.”

  “So you’re saying that you didn’t walk through the ward? That you unexisted yourself through it?” Jack shook his head. “That sounds like teleportation to me.”

  “Not teleportation. A nonphysical part of myself remains, an anchor in this reality. It’s that anchor that moves and to which my physical body returns. Neat, right?” She gave him a brilliant smile. A genuine one, not her creepy alligator smile.

  Jack laughed, her excitement catching. “Yes. That’s a handy skill.”

  They both fell silent, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable quiet. Jack was pleasantly surprised she’d shared so much. He’d keep his mouth shut, and clearly Marin knew that. One small step forward in his first employer-employee relationship. He tried not to cringe. Relationships with people—even professional ones—were always so damned complicated.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Calvin Sneed ushered Jack and Marin into his study. “Can I offer you a drink?” When they declined, Calvin motioned for them to sit down. Concern was etched across his face and his eyes looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well.

  Jack pulled out a notebook. “What can you tell me?”

  Calvin dropped into the chair behind his desk. “I didn’t want to say over the phone, but the reason Charlotte hired a bodyguard . . . I mean, she’s been shopping in Austin by herself for years. She buys—I don’t even know what—things she can’t get locally. But you don’t care about that.” He cleared his throat. “We hired you as a precaution, because I was worried her Aunt Sylvia might try to meet with her in Austin, maybe even recruit her. Sylvia’s with the Coven of Light.”

  “And that worried you? That Charlotte might run into her aunt?” Jack asked.

  Calvin looked confused. “The Coven of Light? I thought you’d know about them, since you’re an insider.”

  “I’m familiar with the Coven, but I don’t know of any Coven activity in Austin. Why now and why Austin?”

  “Charlotte’s Aunt Sylvia called a few weeks ago. She was recruited by the Coven at least ten years ago, and Charlotte hadn’t had any contact with her in that time, except an occasional letter. Then she calls out of the blue. Charlotte was polite, but she didn’t encourage further contact. When her trip came up, I was a little nervous about her being so far from home.” Calvin sighed. “We don’t know where Sylvia lives now, but Charlotte’s family is originally from the Austin area. So traveling back to Austin so soon after they’d spoken . . . it just made Charlotte uncomfortable. Well, me, actually. Charlotte wasn’t afraid of her aunt.”

  Calvin stalled—overcome or lost in thought, possibly. Jack prompted him quietly. “So you called SPI.”

  “Right. We figured that if you met her and kept an eye on her while she was in town and she headed straight back, there shouldn’t be any problems.” Calvin blinked dazedly. “But then she didn’t come home yesterday, and we already knew about you, so I called.”

  “Did Aunt Sylvia make any threats?”

  “No, nothing like that. They parted on good terms. But she’s with the Coven.” Calvin looked at Jack like he’d lost a few marbles.

  “I understand. I’m just trying to get a full picture.” Jack tried for a reassuring, sympathetic smile. Not his strong suit. “Is there any other reason that you suspect the Coven of Light is involved? Other than the proximity of Aunt Sylvia’s call?”

  Calvin rubbed his face hard with both hands. “No. But I don’t know what else could have happened. Everyone loves Charlotte. She’s a genuinely caring person. She’s generous—with her time, her enthusiasm for projects . . . You don’t understand. She heads up the annual Plants & Fans for Seniors fundraiser, mentors the Junior Geologists at the high school.” He paused, hesitating, and then continued, “She also does important work for the town. Not a job; Charlotte is a stay-at-home mom. But she’s working on a project for Miersburg.”

  Marin nudged his foot. More discreet than an I-told-you-so, but equally annoying.

  Jack ignored his sidekick and focused his attention on Calvin Sneed. “I understand—she has a lot of friends in town and people who look up to her.” When Calvin seemed sat
isfied that they appreciated his wife’s popularity and lack of enemies, Jack asked, “What can you tell me about your wife’s schedule yesterday?”

  Calvin looked at him blankly. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, he looked more purposeful. “Like I told you this morning: I realized she was missing a little before dinner. Yesterday was her night to cook, and we eat around 6:30—my son and Charlotte and I. I called at six, but she didn’t answer.”

  Jack jotted down the beginning of a timeline.

  “Where was Charlotte planning to be before dinner?” Marin asked the question in a voice Jack hadn’t yet heard from her. She sounded . . . compassionate.

  “Looking for plants, herbs, flowers—that kind of thing.” Calvin smiled. “Hunting—that’s what we call it. Our little joke since—unlike most of Miersburg—we don’t hunt.”

  Jack paused, letting Calvin drift back into the here and now at his own speed. Once Calvin made eye contact, he said, “And what about the rest of her day?”

  Jack jotted down everything Calvin could remember about Charlotte’s schedule earlier in the day as he recounted it. When Calvin seemed tapped out on details, Jack asked him, “Do you mind if we have a look around?”

  “Of course not. Do you want to start with Charlotte’s office? Her calendar will be there.” Calvin stopped and took a breath. The man looked exhausted.

  Jack nodded, and Calvin immediately stood up, ushering both his guests out of the study to the back of the house.

  Jack shouldn’t have been surprised to find that Charlotte’s “office” was actually a tidy little shed attached to a greenhouse. As he and Marin stood inside, he couldn’t help but notice the sharp contrasts. A rough tin shed on the exterior, her office was pleasantly clean and comfortably furnished on the inside. In fact, the interior was larger than it appeared from outside. He and Marin both fit comfortably with room to spare—enough for a large modern desk, an ergonomic chair, and a love seat. Charlotte spent some time in her office.

  Calvin stood awkwardly in the doorway of the well-lit shed.

  Jack scanned the room, spotting a large desk calendar blotter, as well as several deep desk drawers with no apparent locking mechanisms. “I think this will keep us busy, Calvin, if you don’t mind giving us a few minutes.” Calvin nodded, looking relieved. As he turned to go, Jack said, “One last thing: your wife’s phone number—the one you provided on the form—that was her cell number?”

  “That’s right.” Calvin rattled off the number Jack had scrawled in his notes. With a pained smile, he backed out of the doorway and closed the door carefully.

  Immediately, Jack turned to Marin and pulled out his phone. “Have a look at her calendar.” He dialed his tech contact’s number, and turned his back to Marin when Christina answered. “Hey. I have a cell number for you. Can you get a location for it?”

  Christina, or Chris as her Pack buddies called her, replied in a distracted tone, “Now?” The sound of an insistent toddler echoed in the background but was quickly drowned out by a little girl’s screech.

  Jack felt a hint of the discomfort he always experienced in Chris’s hectic household. Three kids were a lot of kids—especially when they were all moving at once. Her kids were mini-hoodlums—lovable little squirts, but always into something and constantly in motion. He muffled a groan. Apparently, Chris’s brood was overwhelming long-distance, too. Save him from a herd of small children. “Ah, soon? I’ve got a missing woman and the husband’s continuing to refuse our recommendation to report it.”

  “Text the number, and I’ll be back to you in ten with an answer or update.” Then Chris hung up on him.

  Jack pocketed his phone after texting her Charlotte’s name and number. Turning back to Marin, he asked, “Whatcha got?”

  Marin wrinkled her nose. “A pretty boring life. Basically what the husband said: worked in the shed in the morning, picked up her son, Charlie, and dropped him at home, went ‘hunting.’ Then mysteriously failed to appear for dinner. We need to find out where she went hunting.”

  “Yeah. And where her cell is.” Jack flipped through the contents of the top desk drawer. “Don’t suppose you found a map marking all her favorite collection spots?”

  “No. But I did find what might be her collection list.” Marin pointed to a list of plants scrawled in the margins of the desk blotter calendar that covered a good portion of the desk’s surface.

  Jack pulled out his notepad and wrote down the seven plant names: pine-barren deathcamas (crow poison), redbay, le sureau, swamp willow, black nightshade, cattails, and mayapple. Several of them had lines running through them, as if they’d been ticked off a grocery list. Three remained, and he put an asterisk next to those. And crow poison—or pine-barren deathcamas, what the heck?—was underlined three times.

  “Uh . . . you know you can use your phone for that. For documenting evidence.” Marin waved the phone in her right hand at him. “I already snapped a picture of the list. And the calendar.”

  He stuffed the pad back in his jeans pocket and squatted down to sift through a mostly empty wastepaper basket. “What are the chances hubby knows where she collects her ingredients?”

  Marin flipped through the previous few months on the calendar. “No idea.”

  Done with the trash, Jack stood up and moved back to finish the desk drawers. “I didn’t say a word about your driving, right?”

  “Yeah. What’s wrong with my driving?”

  Jack lifted his eyebrows, but refused to answer. “You can extend me the same courtesy. I like how I record case notes. I have a method. And yes, I do know my phone takes pictures and that I can take notes on it. Thanks, but no.” Geez, she was annoying. Why was he bothering to explain himself? Especially to someone who was barely an adult. Jack stopped rifling through the middle drawer and closed his eyes. He’d forgotten that weird dragon quirk. He opened his eyes to examine Marin. She looked mid-twenties. “How old are you?”

  Marin leaned down to start working on the bottom drawers on the opposite side of the desk. Red hair swept down and covered her face. “In human years?”

  Whatever the hell that meant. Instead of asking, he said, “Calendar years.”

  “A hundred and three.” She attacked the papers in the drawer with renewed vigor, still avoiding his gaze. “That’s kind of like twenty-one for you guys, but my license says twenty-five.”

  “Whatever. If you’re 103, I’m not taking tech advice from you.”

  Marin snorted and—finally—looked up at him. “Dragons are very . . . current. It’s a function of exceeding the life span of the culture we’ve chosen to join. Every day a dragon has to choose to live in the now.”

  And if a dragon didn’t live in the now? She called it a choice, but it sounded more like a rule. Maybe a law. “If some ancestor decided to join humanity, that means you can choose to leave, right?”

  “Not particularly,” Marin muttered, and ducked her head back to the contents of her drawer. “Ha!” She lifted a bundle of letters. “Check it out—letters from Auntie. These might be useful, right?”

  “Maybe.” A buzz emanating from his back pocket interrupted him. He snatched the letters out of Marin’s hand, stuffed them in a back pocket, and then yanked his phone out from the other back pocket. He flipped immediately to the text. “Sweet. We’ve got GPS coordinates on Charlotte’s phone.” Jack opened up the door to the greenhouse and quickly catalogued the general layout and contents, and then he swept the shed room, looking for any last pieces of relevant info. “Can you do that bloodhound trick? Where you scent magic?”

  A look of distaste crossed Marin’s face. “I can discriminate the individual scent of a person’s magic. Could you not compare me to a dog, though?”

  Unapologetically, Jack said, “Right. So—you’ve got Charlotte’s scent?”

  “It’s all over the plants in the greenhouse and the one on her desk.” When Jack continued to stand unmoving in front of the shed door, she said, “Yes. I have the signature f
or Charlotte’s magic.”

  Opening the shed front door, he waved Marin through. “All right. Let’s see if Calvin knows where his wife collects her plants.” He carefully untucked his button-down shirt and smoothed the wrinkles as best he could. Sloppy and maybe a little unprofessional, but the thin bundle of letters in his back pocket wouldn’t be visible.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Calvin looked much more composed, and more present in the moment, as he greeted Jack and Marin at the back door to the house.

  “Charlotte has a few favorite spots, but I only know three locations. I marked them on a map, just in case. And you mentioned this morning that an extra key might be helpful.” He handed Jack the map and a car key. “But like I said, I’m sure Charlotte wouldn’t lock her car.”

  Jack pocketed the key and glanced at the Google map. Red felt lines clearly marked three areas outside of Miersburg city limits. “Thank you. This is helpful, Calvin.” Jack made eye contact and repeated himself. “Really. We’re going to check on a few things, but before we leave—are you sure you don’t want to report Charlotte’s disappearance?”

  “Tomorrow morning. If you don’t have any information for me by then, I’ll visit the chief of police after I drop my son at summer school. The chief doesn’t exactly know about Charlotte. And he won’t know what to do, how to handle something like this, if the Coven is involved.”

  Jack nodded. “I’ll call with an update as soon as I have any information for you.”

  Calvin escorted them to the front door wordlessly. After the door closed behind them, Marin turned to Jack and started to speak.

  “Shut up,” Jack said under his breath. “In the car.”

  Marin clamped her mouth shut and headed to the car. After she shut the driver’s door with unnecessary force, she said, “Seriously? You’re not going to tell that clearly terrified man that we have a lead?”

  Jack ignored her, intent on retrieving his laptop and pulling up Google Maps. If he could plot the phone location, he’d know if it fell in one of the three areas provided by Calvin. Finally, the map he needed downloaded.