The clock on the bedside table read 5:14 when Allie, lying with her head on Graham's shoulder so she could watch the minutes pass, felt his breathing change. One moment he was asleep, the next, awake and, if she hadn't been waiting for it, she'd have missed the way muscles tensed as he processed the situation.

Not hard to figure out how that processing began.

Not alone.

Who?

He didn't exactly relax after memory kicked in, but given the hex marks on his chest, Allie wasn't surprised.

"So..." He stroked her shoulder. "... is this when we talk?"

He'd known she was awake even though she'd been careful to keep her body limp and her breathing deep and regular.

Good instincts. Again, not surprising.

She combed her fingernails through the patch of hair on his chest, lightly scratching at the skin. "Unless you have a better idea."

A deep breath escaped before he said, "Maybe we should wait until after we talk."

"All right." She could tell he was thinking that after they talked, it'd be too late.

Pretty much proving her theory, he released her, turned on the bedside lamp, and started to get out of bed. Allie allowed him to roll her off his shoulder but that was it. "You're working for a sorcerer," she stated calmly. He froze in place. "Given the hexes he's marked you with," she continued, "what you do is dangerous.You know who I am and as much about my family as anyone does and may have had something to do with my grandmother's disappearance although I doubt it-you knew she was gone, but you didn't know why or you wouldn't have been trying to find out what I knew about it. You'd have been angling me away from the truth. Your sorcerer didn't want her around, but he knew better than to overtly remove her. He called you last night when he realized creatures other than dragons were coming through the gate-probably because the dragons have messed up the security-and that those creatures could be a threat to him. You took a weapon out of the back of your truck. Since the west isn't wild enough for you to be waving a high-caliber sniper rifle around, there's a misdirection hex carved into it. You-and your sorcerer-assumed the hexes on the doors would keep me in the truck. You were both wrong about that. After shooting the creatures, you hid the weapon and went back for it later." The faint smell she hadn't been able to place-gunpowder. She smiled at him, rolling up onto her side. "And you snore."

His face blank, he lay back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling-further processing, deciding on a reaction. After a long moment, he turned his head toward her, blue eyes narrowed, and said, "I snore?"

"Well, it's more of a snuffle, actually."

"How long..."

"As long as I was listening."

"Allie."

"Only since I saw the hex marks on your chest." She ran a finger down each line. "He should have warned you they'd give away the game."

"This..." He waved a hand between them, his gaze locked on hers, wanting her to believe him. "This wasn't his idea."

Allie rolled her eyes. "Duh. But he did send you to find out what I knew."

"Yes."

"You really are a reporter." If she'd only seen the issue of the newspaper he'd shown her, she might have doubted that, but she'd pulled one from a box at the airport and flipped through it waiting for Charlie. He'd had an article in it about a man from Ponoka who swore he could whistle down the Northern Lights. But seriously, who couldn't?

"I really am a reporter."

"Why?"

"Thought I'd use that journalism degree."

"Not what I meant." She flicked his shoulder with her finger. "Why work at an actual job?Your sorcerer could support you."

His left eyelid twitched. "He's not my sorcerer."

"Semantics." Rubbing her knee up the outside of his thigh, she murmured, "Why is he bringing the dragons through?"

"He isn't." His eyes narrowed, and he shied away from her touch. "But you knew that."

"Not until you confirmed it. The gate originated on the other side, but he could have been calling them."

After a long moment, he said, "Originated?"

"I closed it."

"You closed it?"

"Slammed it shut with extreme prejudice and hung up a sign that said, 'If you can't control the security on your gates, we'll control it for you'." When he made a noise he'd probably be embarrassed to admit to later, she laughed. "Not really. I just shut it."

"Just?"

"It's not hard." Allie lifted herself up far enough she could see Graham's face. "Openings between the MidRealm and the UnderRealm aren't natural. Because there's supposed to be a barrier, the gate would rather be closed."

"The gate has an actual opinion. Ow." He grabbed for her hand and missed. "What will they do?" A muscle jumped in his jaw. "The ones who opened the gate?"

Allie shrugged, enjoying the way her skin moved against his. "Probably open another one somewhere else."

"They won't retaliate?"

"They never have. It's not their world," she explained when he frowned. "We have the final say here. They have it there." Using the tip of a finger, she traced the white line of scar that ran along his ribs and wondered how he'd gotten it. If he'd been a Gale boy, she'd have known. Finally, she sighed. "I need to talk to your boss."

The curve of his mouth wasn't quite a smile. "He won't talk to you."

"Yes, he will."

It seemed he didn't believe her. "I can ask him, Allie, but he doesn't trust your family."

He should be heading for the hills. No sorcerer in his right mind would linger anywhere near a Gale. Allie couldn't decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Graham didn't know that. "Just do what you can. When do you have to be at work?"

"Nine. Why?"

Rising up a little higher, she peered past him at the clock. Five thirty-four. She smiled and slid her hand under the sheet.

"Allie!"

"Whatever's happening in Calgary, that doesn't change what's happening between you and me."

Blue eyes gleamed. "And what's happening between you and me?"

"Why don't you let go of my wrist and we'll find out?"

He dropped her at the store at eight forty-three, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"What's wrong?"

"You and I, we can't..."

"We already are, Graham." Leaning forward, Allie kissed him lightly. "Or are you planning on dumping me now you've had your wicked way. Multiple times."

He smiled against her mouth, one hand rising to tangle in her hair. "My wicked way?"

"My ways aren't wicked." She flicked her tongue against his lower lip, then backed up. "You have my cell number, call me after you've talked to him." This time the truck door opened easily. Out on the sidewalk, she turned, and leaned back into the cab. "One more thing." This needed to be said, but she carefully maintained a neutral tone; he'd recognize the warning. "If you need to talk to Joe again, come to the store."

She closed the door before he could lie to her. The thing between them was still new; no harm in granting it a little wiggle room. Unfortunately, Graham didn't seem to have gotten the memo and leaned over to roll down the window.

Lifting her arm, she showed him her watch. "You'll be late."

"Allie..."

He sighed as a guy leaned out of a passing truck and yelled, "Get a room!"

"... we need to talk some more."

"Okay."

"With our clothes on."

"Sure."

"I'm serious."

"You know where I am."

He stared at her for a long moment, shook his head, and settled back behind the wheel. She waited on the sidewalk until he drove away, then went into the store and pulled out her phone.

Then put it away again.

Even without the presence of the sorcerer, there was enough going on to bring at least one or two aunties west on what they'd euphemistically call a fact-finding mission. Add the sorcerer to the mix and all euphemisms would be chucked out the window. She'd have a dozen aunties on her doorstop loaded for bear and pretty much unstoppable in a little better than a heartbeat. Might be smarter to get as much information out of the sorcerer as she could before she called in the heavy artillery and they took him apart.

They wouldn't want her to go near him.

That, she had to admit as she unlocked the door, was part of the attraction.

Funny how being so far away from home had suddenly become a good thing. It seemed the constant ache had even eased a bit.

Charlie had sprawled out on the bed leaving Michael little more room than could be filled with the width of his shoulders-which was, admittedly, a considerable width. Allie flicked on the lights, picked a pair of cushions off the floor and heaved them at the bed.

"Up and at 'em, boys and girls. There's a sorcerer in town, and I'm making French toast."

As Charlie dragged a pillow over her head, Michael blinked blearily up at her. "You're making French toast for a sorcerer?"

Allie grinned. "He's welcome to breakfast if he calls before we're done."

Graham could feel his boss' attention on him from the moment he passed under the wards guarding the entrance to the building. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were there, silent sentinels keeping the older man safe.

"You've seen what hunts me, boy.You know better than most the danger I'm in."

Except for the style of salutation, things hadn't changed much in the thirteen years Stanley Kalynchuk had been his mentor. He knew the danger because he killed those foul creatures drawn to the sorcerer's power.

Catherine Gale had not been foul, he admitted, climbing the stairs to the second-floor offices of The Western Star. She'd been stubborn, untruthful, terrifyingly grabby and, considering which way the wind was blowing with her granddaughter, he wasn't exactly upset when she disappeared by some other hand than his.

Alysha Gale, on the other hand...

"I don't believe it!"

Jerked out of his thoughts, Graham stopped just inside the door of the outer office, his way blocked by his employer who actually looked... disheveled. Above yesterday's shirt-still untucked-dark brows were not only drawn in but seemed thicker than usual, his cheeks were beginning to purple, and his nostrils had flared to the point where it actually looked painful.

"You slept with her!"

"Not really any of your business," Graham told him, a little surprised by how much effort it took to keep his voice level.

"Oh, you sleep with a Gale while you're working for me, the Gale I sent you out to do reconnaissance on, and it's most certainly my business. I wouldn't have cared if you'd fucked her five ways to Sunday..."

Graham felt his fingers curl into fists. Didn't remember consciously making the decision but couldn't deny it had happened.

"... I have never cared about your dalliances, but you actually fell asleep beside her."

"I was tired." He almost smiled remembering why. "I'm fine."

"You're an idiot! Did you listen to nothing I told you about the women of this family." Kalynchuk reached out and smacked Graham on the forehead hard enough he took a step back and his fists rose. "She's marked you. Right between the eyes."

"Marked me?"

"Drawn a charm. On your forehead. The wards screamed the news when you walked through them." His lip curled. "Strip. I need to see what else she's written."

Regaining control of his hands, Graham stopped himself from touching his forehead-he'd seen nothing when he shaved and didn't expect to feel anything now-and stripped efficiently down to his boxers right where he stood. He felt stupid. And betrayed. Stupidly betrayed. She'd been playing him all along.

Except...

He'd have sworn it was real. Even only having known her for four days. Even not knowing what it was.

"She didn't mess with your protections. That's something."

Glancing up from the hex marks, Kalynchuk jabbed a thick finger toward Graham's underwear. "Those, too."

"I don't..."

"I do. Get them off."

Forcing himself to breathe evenly through his nose, Graham let them fall to his ankles. Detached himself from himself-the way he did when he had a target in his sights-as his boss walked slowly around him, examining his skin for more marks of betrayal. The air in the office wasn't particularly cold, but he felt himself shrinking. The metaphor made physical.

"Get dressed," the older man grunted at last. "There's just the one. Right out in the open," he added walking away as Graham began to obey. "Didn't bother to hide it. But then, no reason for her to, is there? It's not like she knows I exist, or I'd already be ass-deep in crazy old women."

Dragging his trousers up over his hips, Graham spent a moment considering a lie. "She saw the protections, Boss."

Kalynchuk froze. Slowly turned. "She what?"

"She saw the protections."

"That's impossible, they're designed not to be seen."

"Yeah, well, she saw them. She has a fairly good idea of what's going on, and she wants to talk to you."

"Talk?"

"She seemed to think you'd be willing. I expect the charm is there to get your attention," he added as he shrugged into his shirt.

"Well, it worked! And do you know why it worked?" His cheeks began to purple again. "It worked because Gale women do not talk to men of power. They swarm in like a flock of crows, pecking away a bit here and a bit there until you're blind and helpless, and then they move in for the kill."

"The kill?" Graham's fingers froze, button shoved half through a button hole. "Metaphorically?"

"Actually." His lip curled. "Gale women have a fatal hate on for sorcerers."

"But if Catherine Gale was that much of a danger to you..."

"Why didn't I have you take care of her? Two reasons. First of all, you take one out and a dozen more flap in to find out what happened. Second, and more importantly, by the time I knew she was here," he turned and glared at the map of the city, "she'd been here for months. We'd been here together for months. And that could only mean she didn't know I was here. Safest thing to do would have been to leave, slink away with my tail between my legs and start up fresh somewhere else, but why should I?" He slammed his fist against the map, the impact jumping half a dozen pushpins out to clatter against the floor. "Why the fuck should I? Goddamned Gale women! But before you could acquire any useful information from her, all of a sudden, my world went to shit. The emergence..." He flicked up a thick finger. "... they started arriving..." Another finger. "... the old bitch disappeared..." One more finger. "... and the young one arrived." Fingers curled back into a fist. "Now I can't leave, and this fucking Gale girl is fucking you!"

Graham shook his head, trying to arrange this new information into some sort of order. "You should have run from Catherine Gale?"

"From what she represented, yes."

"But you're..."

"Yes, I am. I could turn this city into a sheet of glass and send every soul in it to perdition with a word-all right, fine," he amended, although Graham hadn't spoken, "seven words. But they..." He sighed and sat heavily on a corner of one of the unused desks. "They don't fight fair. There has never been a sorcerer who survived a confrontation with them. Never. Might as well try to hold a handful of water as take them on."

"Freeze water, and you can hold it," Graham pointed out as the phone on his desk began to ring.

"Trite, but true," Kalynchuk acknowledged, silencing the phone with a wave. "But while you might have been able to take out Catherine Gale, could you shoot your girlfriend's grandmother?"

"She's not my girlfriend." Although he could almost touch the might have beens, the way he felt before he'd been told of her betrayal.

Kalynchuk snorted. "So you say. I say they're tricky."

"The charm; what will it make me do?"

"It won't make you do anything."

"So it's completely benign?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what does it say?"

"It says you should call her and set up a meeting in the probably futile hope that there's a way out of this mess before we're overrun with crazy old women."

"Boss..."

"You really want to know, you should ask her."

"You've never lied to me."

"Has she?" It wasn't a tone Graham recognized. Took him a moment to identify it as melancholy. "Because they don't usually. It's just one of the things that makes them so dangerous. They can eat right through your defenses with the truth, boy. Don't ever doubt it."

He touched his forehead then. Didn't know he was doing it until he felt the contact. "I need to know before I see her again."

"Forewarned is forearmed. I suppose." Kalynchuk took a deep breath and shook himself, almost as though he were surfacing from deep water. "It says, essentially and for all intents and purposes, mine."

Graham blinked, hands stilled on his final button. "Yours?"

"No, you young idiot. Hers."

"A sorcerer?" Charlie stared down at the plate of French toast and then gratefully up at Allie as her fingers closed automatically around the offered mug of coffee. "No fucking way. The family hasn't butted heads with a sorcerer in... well, forever."

"The seventies."

"So last millennium."

"Hex marks don't lie, Charlie."

"Yeah, but here? In Calgary?" She took a long swallow as Allie set a second full plate down in front of Michael and sat herself. "I'm sure it's a nice enough place, but there's buggerall power here for sorcerers to be drawn to."

Allie picked up her fork. "Maybe he's just ahead of the curve. Power's shifting this way. Things are happening in Calgary."

"Please stop saying that," Charlie muttered, reaching for the syrup.

"You guys don't mean..." Michael waggled a hand as he chewed and swallowed. "... power, do you? I mean, like the oil fields and stuff?"

"Sorcerers accumulate power." Allie mirrored Michael's wave. "Then they start using it to control things, to give themselves the other kind of power."

"You're kidding me? They want to rule the world?"

"Eventually that's what it comes to. Power corrupts. Corruption leads to abuse. Abuse has to be stopped. Or better still, prevented."

"Yeah, but what about the whole 'family doesn't interfere' thing?"

Allie shrugged. "You rule the world, you're trying to rule the family."

"So the aunties go out hunting sorcerers before it comes to that?"

"No! Well, sort of, except like Charlie said, sorcerers are rare."

"And the smart ones keep their heads down," Charlie interjected, folding the top, golden-brown slice of egg-soaked bread over a line of syrup and picking it up with her fingers.

"So it's not like something the aunties get up to every weekend," Allie finished, ignoring her. "It's just something they take care of when it comes up, when they find one. Maybe once in a lifetime. They don't talk about it though. It's an..." She sketched air quotes. "... auntie thing."

Michael frowned at the syrup bottle. "And that's what they think is going to happen to David? He's going to get corrupted by power until he wants to rule the world and they'll have to take him out?"

"It's not going to happen!" Allie hadn't realized she'd gotten to her feet until she found herself glaring down at Michael and Charlie-the former stared back at her, the latter poured herself another cup of coffee. "But, yeah, that's what they think," she sighed as she sat down.

"Why did you never tell me any of this before?" Michael wondered.

"Because even though you act like an enormous girl..." Charlie patted his hand. "... you're really a guy. Is there any way this sorcerer could be bringing the dragons through?"

Allie shook her head. "The security on the gate had to be broken from the other side."

"By who?" Charlie demanded.

"No idea."

"An accomplice. The sorcerer could be calling them."

"Graham says he isn't."

"Oh, babe, Graham's working for him. He'll say whatever the black-hearted, son-of-a-bitch wants him to say."

"I believe him."

"He must be fan-fucking-tastic in the sack," Charlie muttered, "because you've only ever been this stupidly blind about one other man."

"Who?" Michael asked. When the cousins turned to stare at him, he flushed. "Oh. Right. So, uh, when do the aunties get here?" he asked, loading up another forkful.

"I haven't told them yet."

The crack of heavy porcelain against wood punctuated the extended silence as Charlie set her mug on the table, smudged eye makeup around wide eyes making her look like a startled raccoon. "You haven't told them yet? What are you waiting for, a visit from the little people? Hang on." She threw up both hands in exaggerated surprise. "You've had that, too!"

"I'm thinking," Allie growled, "that I'd like to know what's happening, and it's a little hard to find out once the ground's been salted."

"Metaphorically?" Michael wondered.

"Sometimes. Look..." She pushed her plate aside and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "... you know what the aunties are like. Gran's gone, someone broke the security on a gate to let the dragons through, and they're going to blame the sorcerer for both those things as well as the hike in Calgary's transit fares, middle-aged women wearing jeans that barely cover their asses, and SciFi canceling The Dresden Files."

"Loved that show," Michael muttered around a mouthful of French toast.

"He called Graham last night," Allie continued, "so he's monitoring the gate. He knows what's going on, and he's going to tell me. I mean, bottom line, he could easily be the lesser of two evils, depending on what's letting the dragons through and why."

Charlie shook her head. "Lesser of two evils will mean squat to the aunties. Besides, why would he spill to you?"

"Because he won't want me to call them. He talks or I dial."

Michael saluted her with his empty fork. "You go, girl! Are you going to eat... Thanks." He caught Allie's abandoned breakfast as she spun it across the table and dug in.

"I don't know..." Charlie lifted her coffee again and peered at Allie over the rim. "I can see why he'd take any chance offered to convince you not to call, but he has to know you're going to after he..." She blinked, and Allie almost literally saw the lights go on. "You're not, are you?You're going to try and sort this out yourself.You're not going to call them because you know they'll take your sorcerer's apprentice down with his boss."

"He's not his apprentice." Shifting, she could feel the mark his teeth had left on her inner thigh. "He's more like his assassin."

"Yeah, that makes him working with a sorcerer so much better."

"If it comes to it, I can protect Graham from the aunties."

"You can? Really. From the aunties?"

"Shut up."

"You sure you're not doing this because of David?" Michael asked quietly. "If you talk to this guy, and it turns out he isn't corrupt, then you can convince the aunties it's not all black and white, and they'll cut David some slack."

Mouth open, Charlie swiveled around in her chair. "Fuck me blind. Every now and then I remember you're not just another pretty face."

"Thank you. Elegantly expressed as always." He reached across the table and caught Allie's hand in his. "Allie-cat?"

"I didn't..." She hadn't thought of David since he'd called. And he wasn't going to turn anyway, so what would be the point in convincing the aunties that maybe not all sorcerers were cut from the same cloth. She turned her hand under Michael's so she could link their fingers and said, "That might be part of the reason."

David. And Graham. And...

And this was hers.

"Well, okay, then." He squeezed her hand, then let her go. "Pass the syrup and answer your phone."

It came as no real surprise when the address Allie'd been given turned out to be the long stone building on 6th Street, north of 2nd Avenue. The sorcerer's power had been drawing her attention even through the extensive wards he had on the building. And extensive was way too mild a description. She raised an eyebrow as she put her hand on the front door and the place lit up like a carnival ride. Allie half expected to hear cheesy calliope music. According to the aunties, sorcerers were big on the whole anything worth doing was worth overdoing, and it seemed they were right about that, at least. Three charms would have been plenty; one to mask power leakages if he was so paranoid about being found, one to stop unwanted guests, and one to give warning that a guest had arrived who couldn't be stopped.

Allie paused only long enough to recheck the office number on the mailbox in the entryway, and then paused a moment longer when she saw the name on the box.

The Western Star.

She was meeting the sorcerer Graham worked for at the tabloid Graham worked for. Given that two plus two still generally equaled four, even in Calgary, it seemed safe to assume that the sorcerer had something to do with the tabloid.

She stepped over the final hex without frying, and took the stairs to the second floor.

Like the charm on Gran's door, it had been set to keep out those who intended harm. She wasn't intending to do anything but get some answers.

After she had those answers, her intentions might change.

The deliberate rhythm of her boots against the tiles made it sound like she knew what she was doing. Carefully not imagining the aunties' reaction to being kept in the dark, feeling reckless and wondering if it was how Charlie always felt, she took the last four steps two at a time.

All things considered, the overdone hexes on the actual office door came as no surprise.

The room beyond it was smaller than she'd imagined. The wall opposite the two huge windows-also well hexed-was one enormous bank of filing cabinets, the wall to her right was covered in maps and corkboards that were covered in turn in pushpins and clippings, and in the wall opposite was another door, painted the ugliest khaki Allie'd ever seen with Stanley Kalynchuk, Publisher stenciled on it in black. Given the hexes on that door, it could have said Stanley Kalynchuk, Sorcerer just as accurately. Allie wondered what his actual name was.

There were a lot fewer newspapers around than she'd expected. Of the three desks filling the center of the room, only one looked used. Graham was sitting on the corner of it.

"We have a person who handles all our advertising, but she works from home. Comes in Tuesday mornings to go over the layout. A lot of our content is provided by freelancers, we take some off the wires, and I fill in the rest." He stood as she crossed the office. "I thought we could get all that out of the way up front."

He wasn't smiling.

"I don't like being used, Allie."

Not a Gale boy, Allie reminded herself. Not even someone who'd grown up around the Gales. She stopped just inside his reach. Just in case he wanted to reach for her. "I didn't use you."

"You marked me."

"We do that. I'm wearing Charlie's charms and one of my mother's. When I was younger, David, my brother, used to scribble all over me." She nodded toward the inner door. "He marked you."

"With my consent." Did he even know his hand had risen to touch his chest? "Giving me his protection."

"You fell asleep beside me, Graham, knowing who I was." Hoping he'd draw the line for himself, she waited. When he nodded, reluctantly granted but still an acknowledgment of her point, she added, "And I'm offering protection as well."

"Ignoring for the moment that I don't need your protection, it says mine. What kind of protection is that?"

Impossible to prevent a grin at the thought of Katie's reaction. "You'll find out when you start meeting my cousins."

"When I start..." His mouth opened and closed a few times. Allie waited more or less patiently while he worked through his reaction. "What makes you think," he managed at last, "that I'm going to meet your cousins? What makes you think that you and I are..."

"Still you and I?" She finished for him when it seemed like the hand waving was going to go on for a while.

"Yes!"

"You lied about why you were in the store.You took me out to dinner under false pretenses. You threatened my friend and employee. You would have killed my grandmother had your sorcerer commanded it, and don't bother lying to me, you wouldn't have had her under surveillance if he hadn't considered her a threat and-given that he employs you, well, that kind of defines his reaction to threat, doesn't it? In spite of all that, I'm still willing to give us a chance. Then I draw a completely harmless charm on your forehead, and that's it?"

"I don't..."

She waited, giving him a chance to gather his thoughts because he probably didn't. Most people didn't. The family found it very frustrating.

"Given all that," he said at last, one hand pushing his hair back off his face, "why the hell do you want to be with me?"

Allie shrugged, fully aware of how the motion carried on down. "You have gorgeous eyes. Your voice raises the hair on my neck, but in a good way. You make me laugh. You make me feel safe, which is edging fairly close to the border between honest emotion and bad romance novel, but considering what you do for a living..." Her gesture made it clear she wasn't speaking about the newspaper. "... I'm claiming it. And the sex is fantastic-although, to be fair, we should expand the sample. As for the rest, well, it's a mystery."

"A mystery?"

"We're attracted to power."

"We?"

"The women in my family. It's a visceral thing. I expect to have a reaction to your sorcerer when I meet him. It's one of the reason we don't like them."

"Because you react to them?"

"And they play by different rules."

"I don't have power like that."

"I know. Like I said, a mystery. My father teaches high school."

It took him a moment to realize that statement was relevant. Most of the confrontation had left his voice when he asked, "Another mystery?"

"Sometimes the power we're attracted to is weirdly hard to define." Hooking a finger in between two buttons on his shirt, she pulled herself closer. Today the heels on her boots put them pretty much eye-to-eye with maybe a centimeter in her favor. He'd better be able to cope because she loved these boots. "Regardless of how we're involved independently, you and I together have nothing to do with whatever else is happening."

"So you said."

"And I'll keep saying it until you believe me."

He sighed, breath redolent with coffee fumes and warm against her face. "That's not the way the world works."

"That's not the way the rest of the world works." She wondered what he'd do if she leaned in and kissed him. Decided not to risk it when he was still so skittish although, from the way his eyes widened, she was pretty sure he knew she'd considered it. "Good thing your sorcerer already primed you for dealing with the less than usual. And, speaking of your sorcerer, didn't he want to talk to me?"

"He did."

"Well, then?"

Stepping back, pulling her finger free, he began to gesture toward the inner door, then paused. "The thing, the charm, on my head; did you put that there to get his attention?"

"No."

"But you knew that's what would happen."

Interesting that he wasn't actually asking her. "I figured your sorcerer would want to talk to me about it, yes."

"He's not my sorcerer."

"Then whose sorcerer is he?"

He sighed again, pushed his hair back off his face, and led the way to the inner door. "You drive me crazy."

Allie grinned, appreciating the way his pants pulled tight across a muscular ass. "Pace yourself."

The sorcerer's office was small and crowded. Allie was surprised. She'd expected a room significantly larger than the space available with dark paneling and heavy expensive furniture. While this room did hold a large desk, it was made of the same dinged gray metal as the three in the outer office. The desk held in turn a computer and a printer, at least three or four years old, a phone, and a lot of assorted papers held down by the biggest iridescent white shell she'd ever seen. Facing the desk were two uncomfortable looking wood-and-pleather chairs. The closest thing to art on the scuffed beige walls was a calendar from a local Chinese restaurant. May's picture was a not particularly good watercolor of a panda eating bamboo. A long green blind very similar to the ones that used to hang in her primary school covered the window. Hexes covered the blind. Hexes also covered the door in the wall behind the desk that logic said led to a closet.

Logic said closet. Everything else said she should leave now while she still could.

Behind that door, Allie realized, would be the sorcerer's actual room. The room where eldritch forces were confined and warped. His inner sanctum. This room was just where he played at publishing a newspaper.

Given that the hexes told her he hadn't left the building for at least a month, she'd half expected it to smell like the inside of Michael's old gym locker. It didn't actually smell that bad.

The sorcerer himself turned out to be a burly, late middle-aged man with dark eyes behind a thick fringe of dark lashes, a lot of dark hair shot through with gleaming strands of silver, and an impressive five o'clock shadow for not quite noon. He had, Allie noted, a dimple in his chin, a cupid's bow mouth, and an old burn scar puckering the skin just under the right side of his jaw, noticeable mostly because of the stubble around it. Standing, he'd probably be no taller than Graham.

The suit didn't match the office.

In the Gale family, made-to-measure meant an auntie had bothered to check breadth of shoulder before starting to knit the sweater, but Brian had introduced Allie and Michael to the concept of tailoring, and she'd be willing to bet that the sorcerer's charcoal gray suit had cost more than anything in Brian's entire wardrobe. The maroon shirt was definitely silk, undone at the collar to show the glint of a heavy gold chain.

Artifact.

So was the enormous gold signet on his right pinkie, proving that powerfully ugly was still ugly.

Power rolled off him like smoke. Power he contained. Power he controlled.

It was a lot less enthralling than Allie'd expected although, given the gleam in the dark eyes, she had no doubt he could be dangerously charming when he wanted to.

Behind her, Graham said, "Alysha Gale, Stanley Kalynchuk."

"Shall we cut to the chase, Ms. Gale?" Light flared off the ring as he steepled his fingers. "When can I expect your relatives?"

"That's up to you." Allie thought about sitting. Decided she'd better wait for an invitation. Rumor had it sorcerers were big on the whole quake before me, lesser mortals thing, and the last thing she wanted to do was annoy him and prod him into reacting impetuously. Her safety depended on him considering the consequences.

His eyes narrowed. "So you haven't called them yet?" His gaze flicked past her to Graham. "Good. I am all that stands between this world and disaster. Had you reacted with your family's usual prejudice toward men of power, at the very least you'd have doomed the city and quite possibly-given how flammable the substrate is-the entire province. I alone can prevent the destruction."

Okay, that was an unexpected truth. "You're hiding in a newspaper office."

"You're aware of our visitors?" When Allie nodded, he pressed both hands down on the top of the desk and leaned forward. "They are but the precursors to an ancient enemy of mine arising from the UnderRealm."

"Arising?"

"Clawing its way through the realities to destroy me."

"Okay." She connected the dots. "So this enemy sent our visitors to hunt for you, and you're hiding from them?"

He scowled. "I bide my time. Should I destroy them now..."

"Or send Graham out to shoot them."

"Should I destroy them now," he repeated, "my enemy is forewarned that I am here."

"Right here." She couldn't stop herself. "Hiding."

His cheeks darkened. "You might want to consider that it is up to me whether or not you leave this office."

"If I don't check in with my cousin within..." Allie checked her watch. "... an hour and twelve minutes, you'll have a maximum of seven hours."

Bushy brows drew in to nearly touch over his nose. "To do what?"

"That's up to you, but we checked the airlines...

"This is very Jason Bourne," Michael noted as Allie scrolled through flight schedules. "And that makes me think you're about to do something stupidly dangerous. Do you have to talk to him?"

"It's me or the aunties."

"Can't you just ignore him?"

"Ignore a sorcerer, at least two dragons, and a compromised gate to the UnderRealm less than a kilometer from Gran's store? That would be a no."

"Ignore the short, blue-eyed dude with the big gun..." Charlie's gesture bordered on obscene."... who just happens to work for the sorcerer? That would be a big no."

"I bet his gun's not that big," Michael muttered.

"... and seven hours is how long it'll take a dozen aunties to get here."

"You said a maximum of seven hours."

"That's if they take a conventional airline. They'll be angry, so they'll be less likely to be conventional."

Kalynchuk leaned back, silk shirt pulling tight over his chest and considered her for a long moment. "It might be worth it," he said at last. "If only because your old women would not be able to deal with my enemy. There's a trick to it, you see, that only I know, and my life for twelve of theirs, that's tempting. Pity about Alberta, but it might be worth the sacrifice."

"I don't think so." Allie met his gaze. He was, after all, only a man. "You don't look like the sacrificial type."

"And what does the sacrificial type look like?"

"Well, for one thing, it wears a cheaper suit."

His eyes narrowed. "Aren't you clever."

"Thank you." He was sarcastic, she was sarcastic. "You can't get rid of me, not safely, so the only real question is, do I believe you when you say that the aunties couldn't deal with your enemy after they've dealt with you."

"Dealt with." He snorted. "A child's euphemism."

Allie ignored him. Stanley Kalynchuk believed the aunties couldn't deal with his enemy, but that was opinion, not necessarily an absolute truth. Except... Gran had left him alone. He'd been in hiding for about a month, yet according to the account books, she'd been in the city for almost a year. She had to have known he was there. And she had to have seen why it was a good idea to keep him alive-not even Gran would keep a sorcerer secret just to piss off the rest of the aunties. Probably not, Allie amended silently, given that it was Gran. But because she'd ignored him, Kalynchuk thought she didn't know because he couldn't know what she'd seen. Twisty. Very like Gran.

Pivoting on one bootheel, she faced Graham. "Do you believe him?"

Graham blinked.

"Answer her," Kalynchuk growled.

"I do."

"Well, okay." Allie turned back to the sorcerer. "You're going to stop your enemy because you don't want to be destroyed. I don't want the city destroyed, so I'm not going to do anything to keep you from stopping your enemy. Including calling the aunties. It seems to me that best thing for us to do is to ignore each other for a while longer."

"And then?"

"We reevaluate."

"Do we?" He shook his head. "Given your family's opinion of my profession, it strikes me that an evaluation is not likely to go in my favor."

"My family doesn't actually have strong opinions on tabloid publishers." Kalynchuk stared at her long enough that she heard the rustle of cloth as Graham shifted his weight behind her. Okay. No sense of humor. Something to remember. "I'm here and they're not."

"I see." He sighed and sat back. "The way I see it, I can't prevent you from interfering as anything I might do to stop you will bring your relatives down on me.You, in turn, don't want your relatives to destroy my associate when they destroy me." She thought she'd hidden her reaction, but from the way he snickered, maybe she hadn't. "Oh, yes, it's easy enough for me to see your actual reasoning."

Allie's chin rose. "I can protect him."

"He's not yours to protect."

"He is right here," Graham muttered.

"Stalemate, Ms. Gale." Looking pleased with himself, he held out his hand.

Frowning, she took it. His palm had no calluses, but his grip was strong. Her thumb itched to try a charm. Just a small one. "You know how to contact me if you need me."

"I can't imagine why I would. Remember, only I can save the city. Tread carefully."

She pulled her fingers free. "Remember, I know where you're hiding." Turning on a heel, she stepped past the chair and kissed a flummoxed looking Graham on the cheek. "I can see myself out. Call me."

He waited by the door, watching his boss carefully, assessing his mood.

"You may not be as outstanding between the sheets as I assumed."

"Boss?" A thoughtful non sequitur? Not what he'd expected.

"Your sexual prowess had been my explanation for young Ms. Gale's delay in calling in reinforcements. I'd assumed your presence by my side was my guarantee of safety; now I'm not so sure that's the only reason." Standing, he slid his jacket off his shoulders. "I'm here, they're not-that's what she said. She has reasons of her own she's not sharing. Makes sense actually, those fucking Gale women are as self-centered as they come." He hung his jacket carefully over the back of his chair and began unbuttoning his cuffs.

"That last threat," Graham began. He didn't want to bring it up, but he took care of threats.

To his surprise, his employer nearly smiled. "Posturing. She wanted me to think she'd give my position away to the hunters, but that's not the way her family works. They don't use others to do their dirty work. That would make them too much like me."

"So she's no danger to you?"

"Not on her own." The first cuff folded up, he started on the second. "And as she seems to want to be on her own..."

"There's a cousin with her and another one coming," Graham reminded him.

"Wrong generation. Catherine Gale may have been a danger, but we'll never know now."

"You still believe they..." A glance toward the ceiling since he couldn't look up at the sky. "... took her out?"

"Her family doesn't know what happened to her, so it's the logical explanation. And what's more, I prefer to believe she poked at them when she couldn't find me..."

The edge on the words cut deep. Graham gritted his teeth and managed not to flinch. Although Allie's grandmother would have also gotten him out of his clothes had he given her any encouragement, he didn't expect his self-control in that instance to be acknowledged.

"... than believe there's yet another player on the field we haven't been able to identify." Sleeves rolled up, he sat back down at the desk and turned on the computer. "I want you to keep seeing her. The damage has been done. Until we know what else is fizzing in that freaky Gale head of hers, we need to maintain her interest."

Graham could almost feel the weight of the charm on his forehead. "You want this relationship to be a part of my job."

"Your job is to protect me, so... yes. But remember, this isn't a relationship. If it comes to a choice between what you want and what the family wants, a Gale will always choose family. You will, of course, choose me. Now..." Eyes on the monitor, he moved the shell to one side and pulled a stack of paper toward him. "... we have a newspaper to get out."

"... so we now know what's going on, at least in the vaguest possible terms." Still buzzing with adrenaline, barely believing she'd managed to pull it off, Allie sat down with her bowl. Charlie's barely existent cooking skills extended to heating up soup although, given that the kitchen was still in one piece, she suspected Michael'd done it.

"I can't believe the mighty sorcerer is publishing a crap tabloid," Michael said around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Explains why it's still in business," Allie snorted. "And besides, newspapers are a traditional way to gain secular power." She lifted the top slice of bread, checking that the tuna hadn't been mixed with chutney or jam or something equally noxious. "Look at Conrad Black."

"Look at what happened to Conrad Black. He didn't get to rule the world."

"My point exactly."

Michael's eyes widened. "The aunties didn't...?"

"They're not saying."

"But there was cackling," Charlie added.

"There's always cackling," Allie sighed. "This guy, though, he gave me the creeps, but I'd bet he's pretty much what you see is what you get. He's accumulating power, sure, but he's new at it. I doubt he's been doing it longer than the thirteen years Graham's known him. He doesn't seem corrupt; he's just arrogant."

"David's arrogant," Michael said thoughtfully.

"You're not helping."

"Sorry." His face flushed darker than Allie thought the comment called for, but Charlie didn't give her a chance to ask why.

"He's been at it long enough to acquire an enemy in the UnderRealm."

"That doesn't really have anything to do with accumulating power here, though. We've all heard how the Courts react to anything that could be used to build a power base being taken away."

Michael waved his spoon. "I haven't."

"Remember how my mother reacted when she caught us with that cigarette out behind the barn? Times a hundred," she added when his cheeks blanched. "And..." She turned back to Charlie. "... if he'd been at it longer, he'd have known better than to make an enemy in the UnderRealm."

"But you believe he can stop this enemy."

"I believe him when he says he knows a trick that'll work." Allie poked at a floating noodle. "But there's definitely something he didn't tell me."

"Yeah," Charlie mocked, "like who the enemy is. Why they're enemies. What the trick is. And how come he didn't fry his minion's ass when Graham's inability to answer no when you said do you wanna gave him up to someone who should've called down the wrath of... of..." She paused. Frowned. "Okay, I got nothing that doesn't sound lame, but you know what I mean.You should've called home."

"Graham's safe as long as his boss thinks he's safe because I don't want Graham to get caught in the cleanup."

Charlie and Michael exchanged a nearly identical look.

"Just shut up and tell me what happened here while I was gone." Looking across the table at her cousin and her best friend, Allie noticed a sudden tension. "Okay, what?"

Charlie rolled her eyes and Michael dropped his gaze, drywall dust falling off his hair to lightly season his lunch as he said, "Roland called."

Allie couldn't see why Michael would look guilty about that. She'd left her phone at the apartment rather than risk auntie-created technology that close to a sorcerer. "Tell any aunties who call that I'm still working on what happened to Gran."

"And?" she prodded.

"And he'll be here tomorrow. I said one of us would go and get him."

"And?"

"Joe chased a guy making balloon animals away from the front of the store."

Joe had waved off her hurried explanation of what was going on with an eye roll and a terse, "Not my business." She owed him big time.

"And?"

"I'm nearly finished sanding. I'll get the painting started this afternoon. Flooring tomorrow. Fixtures the day after." Tradesmen made themselves available when Gales wanted them. It was just the way the world worked.

"And?"

"The stairs to the loft need replacing, but I'll wait until after we're done hauling crap up and down them.You going to furnish it?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then."

"And?"

"And David called. What?" Charlie demanded when Michael smacked her arm. "You were taking too damned long." She lifted her bowl and drank the last of the soup out of it. "Michael answered," she noted after licking the orange mustache off her upper lip.

Allie waited, suddenly not hungry.

"He asked me where you were," Michael said at last. Given the way he was working the puppy eyes, silently begging for forgiveness, that could only mean one thing.

"You told him where I was."

"It was David, Allie. I can't lie to David, you know that."

"Dude, you can't lie to anyone." Charlie reached over and ruffled his hair. "Tell her the rest."

Given the deep breath, it couldn't be good. Allie braced herself.

"He'll be here Thursday."

"Oh, great. He's going to... wait." She frowned. If the aunties could be here in seven hours, David could be here in six. "Thursday?"

"After he stopped yelling, I convinced him you weren't in any danger, so he shouldn't just charge out here guns blazing.You know how the aunties watch him. They see that..."

Allie nodded. "And they're on the next plane."

"And he's one step closer to taking over from Uncle Edward," Charlie added solemnly.

Michael sighed again. "Yeah, well, he thinks it's because the last thing you need right now is attention from the aunties."

"Me? Why?"

"Duh," Charlie snorted. "You're hiding a sorcerer."

"So are you."

"Your decision, sweetie."

"I didn't tell him about your plan to use this situation to make the aunties rethink the whole sorcery thing," Michael broke in, "because that would have implied or, you know, suggested that..." He pushed his hair back off his face. "I don't think he's going darkside any more than you do."

Picking up her spoon, Allie forced herself to eat one, two, three mouthfuls of soup.

"Allie?"

"It's okay, Michael." She put down her spoon. "But we're going to need to clean out that second bedroom and buy..."

A ringing phone cut her off. Allie looked at hers, still lying by the butter dish, and then over at Charlie.

"Came in today's mail." Charlie rummaged it out of the pocket of her hoodie. "Auntie Jane's already called me twice and my mother seems to think that, now I'm not able to bounce about through the Wood, I should settle down." A glance at the call display and she left the table. "It's Dave in Winnipeg; probably about a job."

"Is Charlie leaving?" Michael asked quietly as she disappeared into the bedroom.

"You know she never stays around for long."

"But without access to the Wood..."

"There's these things called planes now."

They sat quietly for a moment, unable to make out what Charlie was saying, then Michael pushed his empty bowl aside. "Allie, I'm sorry for involving David."

David was not going to understand what she was trying to do. "The important thing is that you kept him from alerting the aunties." She tapped a fingernail against the tabletop as she considered things. "And you know, since we're not bringing the aunties in, it's not a bad idea to have some backup handy in case Graham's boss is wrong about being able to win this thing."

Michael frowned in turn. "Is that likely?"

"I don't know. But if I'm right, and he hasn't been at this very long..."

"So you want David around to back up a sorcerer?"

Allie grimaced because that was exactly what she wanted. "Think that'll be a little hard to explain?"

"I think it's going to rank right up there with the day I told the family I'm gay."

" 'Cause it's all about you." Allie poked his knee under the table with her foot, grateful for a chance to change the subject. "Brian knows you're here."

"Where else would I be?"

"No, I mean he called me. And I told him you were here. He sounded wrecked."

Michael's mouth twisted. "Good."

"Got an audition for a band." Charlie came out of the bedroom carrying her gig bag, glanced between the two of them and said, "Whoa, soap opera faces. Looks like I'm hauling ass just in time."

"Is it safe for you to travel?"

"You almost strained something turning that into a question, didn't you?" She bent and kissed the top of Allie's head. "Relax. It's here in Calgary. Derek, the friend I was in studio with in Halifax, told his buddy Tom in Toronto that I was heading west and Tom told his ex-bandmate Dave in Winnipeg and Dave got a call from a friend whose guitarist slash backup singer just went on maternity leave and he called me."

"Great." Charlie was staying. Allie didn't bother parsing the reason. "Do you need the car?"

"Thanks." She shrugged into her jean jacket and held out a hand for the keys. "They've got rehearsal space way the hell south, on McKenzie Drive, and I'd rather not cab it."

"You just got here, so how do you even know where McKenzie Drive is?" Michael wondered.

"Well, I could point out that I have these fucking awesome powers that allow me to travel through time and space, so urban planning isn't much of a challenge, but..." She pulled a folded piece of paper out of one of the pockets on the bag. "... Allie's laptop is in the bedroom and there's a really strong unsecured wireless signal just waiting to be taken advantage of, so I looked it up. It's a bit of a drive, but I'll snag a country station and pick up an audition song on the way. Be good, kids; I won't be back for supper."

"Country?" Michael asked as the door closed.

"Not your momma's country," Allie guessed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll dye it plaid. It'll look like I have a flannel shirt on my head. See you guys on Thursday!" Charlie waved the rest of the band off in their trio of pickups and, because the night was chilly bordering on really fucking cold, walked quickly west on McKenzie Drive to where she'd parked the car. Her hair had been deemed un-country, but she was ready to change it anyway. It wasn't like she was married to the blue, and the whole point of hair was that it was easy to change. Okay, maybe not the whole point, but she was half tempted to actually go plaid just to see what the rest of the band would say.

Dun Good was a Calgary bar band and the other four musicians were both enthusiastic about making music and realistic about making a living at it. Their day jobs would leave Charlie plenty of time to deal with the shit about to hit the fan when the aunties found out what Allie'd done.

Not to mention that David would definitely have a few words to say on the subject.

Way to go, Allie.

Charlie fully approved of kicking the coals every now and then to see what flared up. Kind of surprised her that Allie'd taken a poke at it, but maybe all she'd needed was a little distance from the family. Charlie was a big believer in distance. Not many Gales were.

Stepping over a broken slab of sidewalk, she thought about finding a park and sliding into the Wood-incognito, no music-just to see if it was safe. But then she figured Allie'd be a bit pissed about having to retrieve her car if it wasn't, and she didn't really want to have to get her ass home from Prague or Cairo anyway. Couldn't afford to get her ass home from much farther than where she was right at this moment given the smoking state of her credit cards.

It cost a small fortune to fly from Rio to Calgary. Who knew?

So it looked like she was stuck in Calgary for a while.

Having that choice made for her bothered her a lot less than it should. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she was ready to settle down. Or at least stay in one place for a while, which-in no way, shape, or form-needed to mean the same thing. Give the band a couple of gigs to shake down, and she'd see about getting her other instruments from home.

"All right." At the Beetle, she shifted the gig bag to her other hand, and wrestled the key into the passenger side door. "First thing on the agenda, wheels." This thing made her want to play Simon and Garfunkel, circa "Sounds of Silence."

Bent nearly double to buckle the seat belt through the gig bag's straps, Charlie heard what sounded like wet sheets flapping in the wind. A quick check determined the Beetle's soft top had not come undone. When she straightened, squinting upward, following her ears, it looked as though a triangular section of the stars had disappeared.

"Well, hello, darkness," she muttered and had just enough time to realize the sound and the blank space in the night sky were connected when she smelled sulfur.

She dove for cover as a line of red/orange light bisected the night.

An appliance store across the street went up in flames.