Chapter 1
I promised myself that someday—not today, mind you—I’d figure out why folks tossed away their well-loved trinkets, baubles, and doodads. Why give away your beloved lawn chairs and questionable mattress sets when you could give them to someone else? Instead of contributing to the landfill problem, I stood in line at an estate sale to help.
The place in question, a bungalow north of South Toms River, held few surprises. Most of the folks around here were working-class, down-to-earth blue-collar humans. None of them suspected they stood in line with two werewolves. My mate Thorn and I were just like them, our hands full of the abandoned Christmas cheer.
The late June morning couldn’t have been more perfect. Only a few stubborn, wispy clouds skirted across the sky and a light breeze tugged at my husband’s blond curls.
All was well until a lady holding an electric toothbrush lined up behind us. I gave her the side-eye. Mouths had billions of squirmy, nasty germs. Every single day someone crammed that contaminated toothbrush into their mouth. With a concealed frown, I edged away from her.
You can keep your petri dish on a stick, thanks.
As hard as I tried to keep my obsessive-compulsive disorder under control, some things scared the hell out of me.
“It’s got Bluetooth and you can listen to your favorite songs while you brush,” the lady gushed.
Yeah, still a hard pass.
Thorn chuckled, his lean face settling in a knowing grin. Like any caring spouse, he helped me carry my goodies. And not once did he ask if we needed these. ’Cause I believe we do.
“Why are we so close to the Sourland Preserve again?” he asked instead.
I sighed. As hard as I tried to hypnotize myself into thinking everything was all right, I couldn’t ignore the yipping chihuahua in the room.
“You already asked me that when we pulled up.” I adjusted my purchases in my arms. “And when we left the house. And when you got on the Parkway.”
The line shifted forward. “I asked because of what happened to you, Nat.” His voice trailed off. He didn’t need to elaborate.
Only twenty miles from where we stood, I’d faced off with two mighty foes. The first one arrived in the area two months ago and brought a torrent of dangerous and opportunistic mystical beings. The South Toms River nymphs referred to her as She Who Always Walks the Path, but I knew her true name: Diana the Huntress.
For millennia, Diana hunted along the Great Northern Fairy Path with her pack of beasts. Other creatures trailed after her seeking her power. My family had tangled with the Basilisk King. That horrible creature followed her around like a die-hard groupie.
I shivered. Not only did Diana take down my enemy, but she took me prisoner, too.
Thorn touched my shoulder. “The line is moving, babe.” A flash of concern touched his features. He reached for the box of Christmas handkerchiefs in my hand. “Why don’t you go to the SUV and I’ll get these?”
“I’m fine.” I squared my shoulders, but my mate had to smell my anxiety.
When I’d first seen the items for sale on an estate sale website, a delicious thrill coursed through me. The same feeling I always got when I glimpsed a rarity, a gem waiting to be plucked off a table. Who wouldn’t drive a couple miles to snag a set of Victorian Christmas handkerchiefs?
Soon enough, we reached the cashier and I raced through the transaction. The summer breeze shifted and rustled the trees across the road. Kids frolicked around a sprinkler in the yard, unaware of the nearby supernatural threat. Somewhere north of here, the goddess waited for me. The collar she forced me to wear was gone, but I remembered the weight, the breathtaking pressure as it squeezed. I fumbled with numb fingers to stuff my credit card back into my purse. So far, I’d wrestled with this feeling, never mentioning Diana and pretending everything in South Toms River was well again.
“You smiled the whole way here. You okay?” he asked softly. “Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”
“Still gotta live my life.” I shrugged. “I can’t run away from her. There’s no running away. Only waiting.”
“Then let’s go home. We’ll get some burgers on the way.”
“Sounds good to me. I have to deal with the leprechaun today.”
That got a snarl from Thorn. While searching for a mystical whistle not too long ago, we’d run into a sleazy leprechaun pawn shop owner. To save the pack, I’d made another bargain: to get the whistle, I had to work with Seamus for one month to buy five items for his shop. When I made the bargain, I’d thought I was clever. I’d even added terms to protect myself like not buying anything lewd or alive. With my luck, Seamus wouldn’t play fair.
“If he mysteriously disappears,” Thorn said, “you won’t have to work with him, will you?”
I laughed. “After a nuclear attack, he’d survive with the roaches. He isn’t going anywhere.”
As we returned to the SUV, I considered how many times I’d survived dangerous situations and somehow walked away. Those adversaries were nothing compared to Diana. I had a healthy fear of magic—especially of warlocks, wizards, and witches, but I didn’t want to fathom what a goddess could do.
Not only to me, but to those I loved.
