Shadows, Maps, and Other Ancient Magic by Meghan Ciana Doidge Page A

into a smile. He didn’t answer. Instead, he took off the jacket, flexing biceps the size of my freaking thighs as he did so. Oh, God, really? How the hell was I going to be at all effective with that around? Then he reapplied himself to the Chinese food with a renewed vigor.
    Ever since seeing the latest Marvel Comics box office hit, I’d had this ongoing fantasy that involved a certain muscle-bound superhero, a motorcycle chase, then an alien brawl that ended in a steaming shower for two.
    “That was not helpful,” I hissed at Kandy.
    “Really?” She eyed Warner appreciatively. “I think it was very helpful.”
    “Wisteria Fairchild?” Gran called my attention off the suddenly too-accessible sexy dragon scarfing Chinese food in my bakery kitchen. She was genuinely unimpressed. She had eyes only for beautiful Brazilian guardian dragons. Qiuniu was an impossibly high bar for any man … you know, if you were into that sort of thing.
    “Right. Seattle. Treasure keeper,” I said.
    “The reconstructionist is prepared to meet you,” Gran said.
    “Prepared? Had to twist her arm, did you?”
    Gran offered a tight smile but no reply. Yeah, Wisteria Fairchild was probably as reluctant as I thought she would be. “Tell her I’ll double her fee.”
    “She agreed to triple, plus expenses, and a healer on call.”
    Jesus. The witch really didn’t like me. And I really, really couldn’t blame her. Though the healer provision smarted.
    “Tell her we’ll meet her at the Bacco Cafe in two hours, depending on how long we need to wait for the treasure keeper to open a direct portal. Though without mentioning the portal or treasure keeper part of that. So … just two hours, Bacco Cafe.”
    “For triple, she’ll wait all night.” The blue of her witch magic rolled over Gran’s eyes. I wouldn’t have risked pissing off the head of the Convocation if I were Wisteria Fairchild. But then, I’d seen Gran in action.
    “You ready for your first trip to the nexus?” I directed this question to Kandy, who answered with her patented nonsmile.
    Nothing daunted the werewolf.
    I wished I could say the same.
    Warner wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. Then he carefully started replacing the lids on the containers that still had food in them. I turned away to retrieve the sacrificial knife and some American cash from the broken safe, pushing away thoughts of strong fingers doing delicate tasks. With the safe broken, I couldn’t leave the knife here if I wasn’t going to be back soon, even if the bakery was closed tomorrow. Maybe I’d finally convince Pulou to keep it.
    I rolled the knife in a red-and-white-striped tea towel, then tucked it into my satchel while I paused in the office doorway to look back into the kitchen. Gran was picking at some Szechuan green beans and texting. Kandy was looking up maps on her iPad.
    Warner looked up from wiping the workstation and snagged my attention with his green-blue eyes. The knife made my bag feel epically heavy hanging off my shoulder. It felt filled with all the guilt I carried over the blood magic I’d practiced to save Mory’s life. It reminded me of the darkness that had swallowed my sister … that had entered the perfect life I thought I’d been building. Now, arrayed before me — only steps away in my bakery kitchen — was another glimpse of that unattainable, perfect life. A life that the darkness that had taken up residence within me would never let me have.
    I dropped Warner’s gaze and tugged at my necklace, willing it to buffer me from the power of the knife. The shielding magic of the wedding rings responded instantly, but the weight of the bag didn’t change.
    “Ready?” I called to Kandy and Warner as I turned to the pantry. What the necklace couldn’t fix, chocolate would always soothe. And I just happened to have about ten pounds of the good stuff on hand.
    To that end, I tucked a couple of Valrhona chocolate bars in my satchel as I crossed through the