I stare at the tiny grey dragon gargoyle-like thing, well, I say tiny but he’s still bigger than a good-sized dog. His eyes are tracking my movement. He doesn’t try to get in again. Bending my knees but keeping my eyes on him, I pick up my phone and shuffle backwards into my bedroom, closing the door slowly. Our eyes remain locked until the very end. Turning the skeleton key, I lock the thin door, knowing it will in no way protect me. I scroll through the contacts finally hitting the one I was looking for.

“Is something wrong, lass?” Michael’s whiskey voice washes over me, and I can hear Sean shouting in the background, making my nerves settle. Even a world away, they make me feel safe.

“Um, I’m not sure. Is Raven there?”

“Do we need to come there?”

“What? No! I just… Can I please talk to Raven for a minute?” I grumble.

“Okay. Just making sure ye are fine.” He sounds slightly hurt, and I feel bad.

“I’m fine, totally. You know I ask for help if I need it,” I soothe, hearing him harrumph as he hands the phone over.

“Hey, Cora, what’s up?” Raven’s voice is smooth, but I hear the concern.

“I was just wondering if you know of anyone that shifts into lots of different things, like dogs, birds, and umm…well, tiny dragons.” Her silence is deafening, and my heart begins to pound. “Raven?” I whisper, suddenly afraid.

“Cora. Is he still there?” I peek out the curtain, through the slots in the shutter. His head swivels my way, and I leap back.

“Yes,” I whisper, moving into the bathroom and locking the door. “Is he going to kill me? Has he sent for Odin or someone else?” I lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Fear has paled my caramel skin, and my eyes shimmer silver beneath the contacts I’ve taken to wearing.

“No. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. He’s definitely not going to kill you. And no way has he contacted Odin. There is only one person I know that can do what you described…” I hold my breath waiting for her next word. “Loki.”

I slide to the floor. “What’s he doing here? Did you know he’s here?”

Her sigh echoes over the many miles between us. “Can you meet me at the farm tomorrow?” My eyebrows climb, knowing this must be bad. I hear Michael murmur in the background, “Us.” Sean calls out, “I’ll call Kai and Jason.” Shit, what the hell is going on?

“Sure,” I draw the word out, more worried now. The phone disconnects, and I stare at it in my hand for several minutes before I lay it down. Looking in the mirror, I open the contact case and remove one then the other of the dark contacts, watching as my eyes swirl with power. Power that is on the fritz, apparently. Not a single vision, no warning whatsoever. So much for the Tree of Life’s great gift.

I stare at my reflection, no longer pale. In fact, my cheeks have a pink tint to them, and I roll my eyes at myself. I won’t lie, he’s been on my mind constantly. He was so angry. His power so vast. But all I think of is his arms around me, the warmth of him seeping into my bones, the smell of him, the feel of him beneath my hands.

My hand glides over the light switch as I slowly open the door. Next I turn out the light in the bedroom and creep back to the window. Easing the curtain a millimeter at a time, I put my eye to the opening and jump as my phone rings. I throw it across the room and squeeze my eyes shut, frozen in place. Slowly, I open one eye and lock onto red ones staring in my direction. I ease away and turn to my phone just as I hear yelling from the street. I grit my teeth. Fuck. Remy’s, the artist that paints beside me in Jackson Square, voice echoes up, and I hear a low rumbling. I race from the room and out the front door. Seconds later, I’m standing before him, and he’s grinning down at me.

“Jack said you ran out like you were spooked, so I thought I should check on you.”

“Thanks, Rem. I’m good. You hungry? Why don’t we grab some tacos from the El Gato Negro around the corner?” He grins and starts walking, slinging his arm around my shoulder, chatting away about stuff that had happened after I left earlier. My eyes dart around, trying to catch sight of a living statue.

I keep my eyes on the skies until we step inside the door of the restaurant and as I glance back over my shoulder, I see a massive raven sitting on the sculpture across the street. Red eyes blink slowly at me before a caw rings out. I shiver before turning back to my friend, who’s still talking. We order our food and drinks. I gulp my beer as I keep one eye on the window and the bird. The food arrives and I eat, although I can’t tell you anything about it.

Remy pushes back from the table, looking at me in silence. “What?” I question.

“That’s what I can’t figure. What’s going on with ya?” His eyes narrow. He always does see too much; it’s the artist in him. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” The last is drawled out slowly.

Shit. I let my eyelids drift down as I try to think of what to say.

“Did you finally get your voodoo magic?” His voice is a whisper, and my eyes fly open and my jaw drops. “Girl, you practically drip power.”

“Whatcha know about power, Remy?” I look at him with new interest.

“Oh ya know, this and that,” he hedges, and I frown. “We all got secrets, girl. We all got demons.” He’s piqued my curiosity now. Remy Sinclair has been holding out on me. He throws some money down and stands, waiting for me. As we walk outside, he pauses. “You don’t have to tell me. I know something happened on your ‘vacation,’ but just know I’m here if ya need me.”

He catches hold of my hand and squeezes it tight before letting it go quickly, but not fast enough that I don’t feel the shiver run through his body. Secrets indeed. I’m about to question him when he turns and ambles away, leaving me to stare after him. I glance across the street, but the bird is gone. My eyes travel up, looking for it in the sky but seeing nothing. Turning, I head back inside, nodding toward the back as I walk past Erin at the bar. She glances outside before nodding.

I slip out the back and creep in the darkness through the narrow opening between the buildings. A shortcut home. I don’t go up; instead I inch my way along the shadowed wall until I’m by my car. One last glance around and I cross to it, sliding my hand under the front bumper to the hidden key. My I.D. is in my pocket, so no need to return to my apartment. Closing the door as quietly as I can, I start the car, thankful for the quiet engine, and pull away from the curb. I’m two blocks down Decatur Street before I let out the breath I’ve been holding. Traffic is not horrible, so I’m heading out of the city in minutes and on the bridge heading to the farm before I know it. My eyes constantly scan the sky and my mirrors. The problem is I have no idea what he might look like now.

If he’s still angry, I could be in some serious trouble. I risk the ticket and fly over the bridge, the miles clicking by rapidly.