Raven left me standing alone in the darkness, the flashlight’s glow shining on the space where he had just been. I frowned into the emptiness. I didn’t need his help or his attitude. This was all wasting my time. If I could just get the sword, I could find Vincent and defeat him. This goat guy was small beans. Sure, maybe he was dangerous, but he wasn’t even close to as dangerous as Vincent would be to my family. Part of me wanted to tell them the truth. Maybe it would be easier. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t face the shame of them knowing I’d been kicked out of the job I’d left them to take. It also wasn’t necessarily any safer for them to know about Vincent.

Ignorance is not only bliss, it’s safety. If my family knew about Vincent, it would put them in a position to want to protect me from him. They were like that. Just like Raven, loyal to a fault. I knew they’d rally around me, and I couldn’t let them do that. I didn’t deserve it after what I’d done. I had to do this on my own, and that meant lying to everyone I cared about until I could leave them all again.

I packed up my gear and hurried back to my car. Aster’s windows were dark, so I didn’t bother disturbing them to say goodbye. After throwing my stuff in the passenger seat, I drove off down the dark country road. It was a moonless night, and the blanket of stars over the expanse of farmland laid heavily over me as I drove. The pressure of that dark sky felt like a hand pressing down on me.

I’d made so many mistakes in my life and everyone I’d hurt was coming back to haunt me, all at once. No matter how much I wanted to run away from the pain of it, the vise grip on my heart still ached in my chest. There was no running from that. It would take phasing into another plane of existence and maybe a quart of scotch to dull the pain. Right now, I couldn’t afford to do either.

I had to stay here and stay alert. This wasn’t like my breaks between other jobs when I could zone out of everything. The stakes were higher. I was at war without backup. My allies were in the dark and defenseless against Vincent. Deep down, I didn’t know if I could win this battle even with the sword.

Confidence in my skills had become my greatest strength, but now, I didn’t feel confident. I felt lost. For a warrior, that wasn’t a good place to be. I needed strength. I needed the iron will I was known for in the Executioners. For that, I’d have to pull it out of myself somehow.

My dark thoughts swirled as I pulled into my mother’s driveway. I couldn’t bring myself to face her again. It was too much to ask. But I didn’t have any other choice. I sighed and opened my car door, trudging up to the front door of my mother’s house.

Light still glowed through the windows, and I found her sitting in the kitchen, hand-stitching the needlework in her latest quilt. She didn’t look up at me over the red reading glasses perched on her straight nose. Her nimble fingers pressed the needle through the fabric and pulled it out the other side with a deft quickness that could only be supernatural.

“Did you help Aster on the farm?” she asked, still not looking at me.

“I did. I also found a goat-eating accountant hidden behind some blackberry brambles.”

My mother slowly turned her face to me, her mouth a hard line, her brows knit together in confusion. “What are you talking about?” she asked me, holding the needle and thread taut over her quilt.

“Just what I said. Some naked, middle-aged man was eating a goat raw on Aster’s land. He attacked me. When I tried to defeat him, he disappeared.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” my mother said.

No shit, Mom.

“Obviously, this guy has been cursed or something. Humans don’t just go around eating goats raw or randomly disappearing into nothingness.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Neither have I. That’s what worries me.”

“Can’t you tell what it is?”

She knew. I stood still and blinked, thinking up an excuse. It might be easy to fool Aster and Raven, but Nelly Fanning was a different story.

“All I can tell is that he’s human. There’s dark magic involved, but he isn’t a paranormal creature.”

“That’s all you see? Don’t Executioners have the power to determine what kind of creature they are dealing with?”

“Like I said, he’s human. My Executioner skills only go so far,” I lied. If I’d still had my skills, I’d know exactly how to defeat him. I’d know exactly what he was.

Mother hummed, looking back at her quilt. “There’s a pot of hot tea if you’d like a cup.” She nodded to the blue porcelain tea pot sitting on the big square kitchen table.

I sat down at the table and poured a cup of tea. If she knew I’d been kicked out of the Executioners, it compromised my entire mission. Would she give me the sword if she knew I’d failed at the job I’d abandoned my family for?

She could never know. I had to get the sword and leave so I could find Vincent and kill him. Then the Council would give me my job back, and I would have my life back. I could leave my family in peace, to live their quiet, happy lives in Portland.

Sipping my tea, I stared at my mother as she stitched her quilt, trying to decipher what the woman knew. I couldn’t read her. I never could.

“What is it, Olivia?” Nelly Fanning could always read me.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“I made up your old room. You should get some rest. You’re going to take care of that creature tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I already told Aster and Bear I would.”

“You know, Raven Hunter is a Portland PD detective. I’m sure he can help you.”

I stood from the table, the vise grip on my heart tightening painfully. “So I’ve heard. Good night, Mother. Thanks for everything.”

“Good night, dear. Sleep tight.”

I hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs, still holding the hot cup of tea. I’d forgotten to ask her about my clothes. I needed them if I wanted to fight the goat eater. I still had a few weapons in my Camaro and most likely could take care of the guy in about five minutes if had some insight into what made him tick. Tomorrow, I’d look into it more, do some research into the creature archives in the family grimoires. I no longer had access to the Council’s databases so the Fanning family archives would have to do.

Standing at the door of my old bedroom, I shook my head. I’d sunk a long way, coming back here after five years to sleep in my teenage bedroom. It felt like only yesterday I’d left this room for what I thought would be the last time. Nothing seemed to have changed. Not even me. Who says you can’t go home again? You can always go home because home always remembers.

I pushed open the door and a flood of memories nearly floored me. The twin-sized bed pushed against the back wall, covered in the same black bedspread. That was the place I’d first made love to Raven, deep in the night after he’d landed on my windowsill. I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me. Emotions scratched at my eyes and I felt the sickening twist of bitterness in my stomach. I wanted to retch, but instead I sat down on the bed and sipped my tea.

Looking around the room, I noticed the band posters and drawings tacked across the walls. All dark and Gothic emo. I rolled my eyes at my younger self. God, I must have been a pain in the ass. Maybe I still was. Setting the cooling tea on the bedside table, I collapsed on the mattress and groaned.

Bone tired, I breathed deeply, my chest rising and falling under the stupid overalls my mother snapped me into. I kicked off the boots and unbuckled the straps on the overalls. I shimmied out of them, leaving me in a T-shirt and panties. Even the panties looked hickish, with a pink lace trim.

Jesus. She never stops.

I pulled down the bedspread and climbed under. Tomorrow I’d go shopping and get myself some new things. At least I could wear normal human clothing that suited me better.

Reaching up, I clicked off the single light in the room, coming from the old black lamp beside the bed. Left in darkness, I was alone with my thoughts.

Just as dark as the room, they swirled around my head. Questions I hadn’t entertained in half a decade stabbed at me like daggers. What if I’d never left? What would I be then? Who would I be?

I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to block out my thoughts. I needed sleep, oblivion, release. It came quickly, my head against the softness of the pillow. Dreams tumbled through my mind like a fever. I woke in the dark, the dim blue light of predawn, smoky outside my window.

Taking a deep breath, I lifted myself to sitting, placing my feet on the cold wood floor. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and pulled the overalls back over my toned body. God, I hated these things. Twisting my long hair into a bun, I tied it at the back of my head and trudged through the door and down the hall.

A light shone from downstairs. Mother wasn’t awake already was she? That woman. Always on. I climbed down the stairs and found my way into the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. When I entered, I saw the petite form and bleach-blonde head of my sister Twyla. She was wrapped in a long, black silk robe that flowed around her slender frame. She turned to me, her eyes wide and vacant.

She scared me sometimes. Especially as a portal catalyst, a skill that could only be used by others. The only time I’d seen that was the night Dad died. The night I left Portland forever.

Now, Twyla seemed possessed. Strange. Her face was a blank mask the stared through me. Holding the coffee pot, she poured the dark brew into a white mug, her face not moving a muscle, her body rigid. Her eyes weren’t even blinking until she took a step forward and offered me the mug.

“Coffee,” she asked in a soft, sweet voice. I almost didn’t trust it, but I shook that feeling off. It was my little sister, Twyla, not some demon or deranged fae. I took the coffee and thanked her, sliding into a seat at the table. “How did you sleep?” she asked me.

“Um. Fine. It was a little strange to be back in my old room.” Not as strange as the look on her face just now. For all her soft sweetness, Twyla was one strange little creature.

She sat down at the table with her own cup and sipped, her eyes staring straight into me. “Did you see Aster yesterday?”

“Yeah. I cleared out some land. I’m going to exterminate some freak goat-eating human for her today.”

“You found a creature on her land.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I did. I’ll get rid of it for her so no one needs to pressure me about it.”

“This creature will force your hand,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“Okay.” I needed to change the subject. “So. How do you like being a mother?” I asked her.

“Lenore is a treasure,” she said, pressing her hand to her heart.

“Who’s her dad?” I asked, realizing too late that it was kind of a rude question.

“Her father is Oren, prince of the fae,” she said, her slender white hands wrapped around her mug for warmth.

“Really?”

“It happened before he opened the portal and left.”

“He got you pregnant?” I said through clenched teeth. This guy was the reason Dad was dead. “That means Lenore is half-fae.”

“She is a powerful being. Her ability is greater than my own. Sometimes I find it challenging to guide her. But I think it’s like that for most parents. Iona and Aster agree.”

“Right,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. My brain needed to wake up. This conversation felt like it was about to go over the deep end. Twyla was a sensitive soul, no matter how dangerous she sometimes could be. “Do you think Mom still has my clothes?” I asked, changing the subject again.

“Of course. They are in her craft room. She repaired the leg of your pants.”

“Really?” I stood so quickly I nearly knocked over the chair I’d been sitting in. I strode to the double doors leading to my mother’s craft room, Twyla right behind me holding her coffee cup. I pushed open the door and flipped on the light. There on my mom’s craft table was my Executioner’s uniform, perfectly clean and repaired.

A smile cracked across my lips and I hurried to scoop everything up. I couldn’t wait a single second to get my clothes back on and feel the power of the runes running over my skin. “Tell Mother thank you,” I said, hurrying out of the craft room and toward the stairs.

“Thank you for what?” I heard Mother’s voice coming from upstairs.

“Fixing my uniform,” I told her as I passed her on the landing. “I’m going to need these if I’m going to defeat the goat guy.”

“You’re welcome,” my mother said, carefully walking down the stairs in her flower-printed, frilly robe. She disappeared at the bottom of the stairs, and I hurried to the second floor bathroom to shower and change. I was still covered in dirt and my own blood from the day before and really could use a shower.

In the bathroom, the smell of decorative scented soaps and candles assaulted my nose. Everything was so delicate and girly I almost cringed. But style didn’t much matter when all you needed was to get clean. I grabbed a soap from the counter and climbed into the warm stream of water pouring from the brass showerhead into the claw foot tub.

It felt so damn good to get clean that I didn’t care that I smelled like honeysuckle and roses when I got out. My hair was clean and my skin was free of blood and dirt. I couldn’t ask for much more. I dried my hair, tying it behind my neck after I pulled my normal clothes back on.

Feeling much more myself, I practically skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen when I was done. I found Mom, Twyla, and Lenore eating waffles at the kitchen table as the morning sun peeked through the gingham-curtained windows. Mother looked up at me and her bright smile turned to a frown.

“You can’t go around dressed like that,” she said.

“I need these clothes to take care of Aster’s goat-eater. Don’t you want me to help her?”

“Of course, dear. But you can’t go around dressed like that in Portland. You look like the heroine in some action movie.”

I looked down at my head-to-toe black leather and shrugged. “People in Portland dress freakier than this,” I said, defending my look. It might be Executioner standard issue, but it suited me personally. I liked the way it looked and felt. But Nelly Fanning wasn’t having any of it. She pressed her finger to her lips and shook her head.

“No. I think not.” She snapped her fingers and a cold panic poured over my shoulders as I felt the burst of her magic twirl around me. I looked down at myself and found what looked like a hip business casual outfit. Dark pants, heeled boots, and a navy blue tank under a trendy suit jacket. I narrowed my eyes, almost ready to snap at her. But I felt the buzz of the runes still flowing over my skin.

“I just disguised you so you can blend in.” She winked at me. “You’re welcome.”

“Mmkay. Thanks.” Better to blend in with my surroundings. Usually I only wore this at night when I worked. During the day, I generally just slept or hung out at home.

“Are you going to meet Raven today?” Twyla asked me, standing from the table to pull another waffle from the iron. She set it on a plate and sat it on the table in front of me. I looked down at it. The smell of my mother’s waffle recipe was too much to resist so I sat as Twyla poured me another cup of coffee.

“He said he’d meet me today. I figured I’d take a look in the family archives.”

“Margery has the archives in her office at the university,” Mother said with a hint of mirth. I almost spit my coffee out at the mention of my older sister’s name. Margery was the one Fanning I could not take seeing. My goal was to avoid her like the plague until I got the sword and left.

“Maybe I’ll use the Hunter’s grimoires,” I muttered.

“Raven said he’d meet you after breakfast. He has something to tell you.”

“How do you know that?” I said, looking at Twyla. Her prophecies usually weren’t that direct.

“He texted me on the witch network.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve got an extra cellphone with the app already installed,” my mother said like she’d just remembered the cure for cancer. Which, I was sure Iona knew. But that wasn’t the point. Nelly stood and hurried to her craft room, her fluffy bathrobe swirling around her white feet that were painted with hot pink nail polish. She came back a moment later holding an old flip phone from 1999. I looked at the thing like it was a poisonous snake.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

“It has service. You can use it as a phone and the witch network is already installed. I’ll text Raven your number.”

“Great,” I muttered, shoving the phone into the pocket of my jacket. I shoveled waffles into my mouth and chugged the rest of my coffee. I would need my strength to keep up with these people. The goat guy worried me less than the women in my family. But I had to get the goat guy to get them to trust me enough to give me the sword.

“I’ve got to go,” I said, standing over my empty plate. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“Where are you running off to so early?” Mother asked.

Anywhere but here.

“I need to get some supplies,” I lied. I just wanted to get out of Nelly Fanning’s kitchen. Going upstairs to sulk in my teenage bedroom was a much less appealing option than just driving around Portland until I could think of some solution to Aster’s goat-eater problem.