Page 13 of Demon and the Raven

“That’s why I never let you walk through the hostas when you go around the side of the cottage. Never know what could be in there with how thick they grow.”

“I don’t walk through the hostas because I don’t want to hurt any of the plants. They’re all so beautiful, and with how big everything is, they feel ancient.”

He had no idea.

“But really, you think it’s going to rain?” he asked, looking up again.

Just then the sky rumbled, and I could feel the magic dance over my skin as I smiled at him.

“Okay,” he said, chuckling. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Overgrown gardens at night?” I baited him. “Wasted, decaying, filled with memories? That doesn’t concern you even a bit?”

“Listen, if you think it’s scary, it’s scary. You’re the expert.”

“On scary?” I was horrified. “I want to be the expert on things magical, not spooky.”

“How about interesting,” he offered, taking hold of my chin and smiling down into my eyes. “Because you do make everything that without question.”

My breath caught. He really was a beautiful man, with his carved features and lush mouth and midnight-blue eyes that caught the light from the antique gas streetlamps that still had to be lit by hand every evening.

“I’ll come find you if the meeting ends early, and if not, you come wait for me here. Either way, I want us to ride home together.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, lifting for him.

He bent and kissed me breathless, and I could feel, as I normally did, the need to take shelter in his chest, next to his heart.

“I love you,” I whispered when he eased back.

He grinned, and the smug grunt made me smile. “I love you too. And make sure you’re not too charming when you give the presentation. I don’t want anyone following you home.”

“I’m walking through a graveyard tonight. I already put a sprig of lavender in each shoe, so don’t worry. Nothing can follow me home.”

“You’re missing the point, but that’s okay,” he said, chuckling as he turned away, which I took as a very good sign.

I was supposed to have seventeen people on the cemetery tour that evening, but by eight fifteen, still alone, I called Jill Stearne at the Osprey Historical Society, which was in charge of the tours, and asked her if I was in the wrong place to meet my group.

“Oh, Xan,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, honey. I called Ollie, and I’m thinking he forgot to pass along the message. That night carnival is in town again this year—they’re set up at the fairgrounds through the weekend. I doubt we’ll have any takers for history over games of chance, crappy food, rides kept together with duct tape, and fortune tellers.”

“Makes sense. Okay, thanks. Have a nice night.”

“I’ll try,” she groaned.

“What’s with you?”

“Nothing. Just got yelled at today more times than I can count.”

Lots of people had been short with me at the library as well. When I apologized, because that’s what you did when you were in customer service, they all did as well. But I did notice a similarity in all of them, and it was that they all looked exhausted. “I’m sorry. It seems like everyone was really tired today. Have you noticed that?”

“Yeah. Me too actually. I haven’t been sleeping.”

“May I ask why?”

“I don’t really know. Weird dreams keeping me up.”

Or nightmares, which was what Danesha was suffering from. She’d confessed before she left me alone earlier that Joanna’s behavior probably wouldn’t have annoyed her quite so much if she wasn’t so sleep-deprived.

“I’m sorry. The good news is that it’s Friday, so you can have a restful weekend.”