The Ravenwood Arms

Chapter 1

I concentrated on the purplish-blue, translucent well of power cupped in my hands. I liked to think of it as a soap bubble, although I knew it made others nervous when I compared the power used to shield with anything that ephemeral. The small mass gleamed with iridescent rainbows and slowly I breathed into it pushing power out with my breath in a steady stream. I expanded the mass so that it spilled past my hands, growing ever wider until the soap bubble was the size of a beach ball and hollow inside, now truly a bubble instead of a blob. Steadily it grew, for now maintaining its round shape. When it was large enough, I stepped inside, the iridescent shield parting like water around me, letting me into it and then folding back behind me, sealing the bubble as though I made no more of an impact than dipping my toe in a really big pond.

Slowly, I expanded the bubble around me making it larger and larger. As it pressed against the walls of the small building, the shape changed. No longer round, my former bubble draped the insides of the walls, clinging to support beams and exposed wiring like a shimmering, almost solid liquid. It flowed around ceiling joists and fit snuggly into every nook and cranny of the floorboards, seeping through the miniscule spaces between the boards and reforming below their surface to coat the subflooring beneath.

I felt my shield reach its intended boundaries and adhere to the surface. Satisfied, I stopped pumping power into the shield and locked it into place, my shielding becoming as much a part of the building as the footings and the roof shingles. As I let the shield go, separating myself from my creation, it pulsed for a moment settling itself. The rainbows became brighter, shimmering along its surface in shivering waves. It grew brighter and brighter until it flashed blindingly white and disappeared. Although the shield could no longer be seen in its entirety, even by me, who still felt it, I knew the others would have seen the flash and know the shield was active, my work complete. Those who lived and visited here would never know the shield was there, going in and out of the building completely unaware of its presence, however now, no shadow creature could pass into the building harming those taking refuge inside.

I sighed and felt the weariness descend into my very bones. This had been a large job, larger than my usual. I grew accustomed to working for those rich enough to live in large sprawling edifices; after all they were the ones most able to meet the fee the Commission set for my work. My only skill in the magical community may have been setting shields, something one scheduled on a construction plan somewhere after the wiring was inspected and before the insulation was installed, but I was very good at creating those shields.

Hence, the large fee.

Still this was quite a feat, even by my standards. In addition to the fifteen thousand square foot main house, there was the pool house, with pool, of course, boat house beside the man-made lake, tennis courts, dog house, what seemed like miles of winding pathways and this final piece, the guest house. I wasn't quite sure how the construction of the dog's house came to be finished first, but thought it might have been considered part of the house plans, despite its elaborate two story design, rather than a greater interest in canine comfort over houseguests.

Luckily, no matter how fancy it looked, the dog house was relatively simple, construction wise, possibly contributing to its quick build out. I still had to crawl inside on hands and knees through the doggie door and sit in the center of the space while being watched by a very curious and somewhat puzzled Labradoodle, named Swizzle Stick, but at least the dog's relatively large size meant that I could fit through the doggie door in the first place. While I wasn't built like a linebacker, I knew that as a five-foot-four woman, I wasn't squeezing into a house designed for a tea cup poodle.

But the dog house was completed several hours previously. I shook off my exhaustion and started for the door. This was my last bit of work for this particular estate. I knew from experience, that the owners would be keen to have me gone, they always were. Not only would they be eager for construction to resume, but I made them nervous.

I was not one of the powerhouses of the hidden magical world. I couldn't conjure illusions or call lightning. I couldn't call rain storms or even a light breeze to cool me on a hot day. Casting spells of any sort was well beyond my ability. I couldn't do anything showy; I could just create shields. It disappointed me when I was younger. Knowing some of the things that lurked in the darkness waiting to feed on anyone with magic in their blood no matter how weak, I grew up with a healthy dose of fear. For the most part, I learned to accept my own limitations.

The fact that those much more powerful than me, who were capable of important and brilliant feats of magic, still had to call someone like me to layer protections on their house to keep the nasty things away so they didn't have to fight them, always made those I worked for somewhat uncomfortable. They compensated by thinking of me as one of the lesser trades. I had the feeling I ranked somewhere below plumber, but maybe above painter.

On a good day at least.

Sometimes, I was fairly certain I was thought of more as the smoke alarm than one of the trades. As in my normal life I worked in the family furniture business, refinishing, upholstering and, on occasion, using my degree in design to actually create new furniture pieces, I didn't mind. It meant that I got to spend my time with the construction crew instead of forced into uncomfortable small talk with the family. The small talk I left to my handler. He didn't seem to mind it, well, with them anyway. He wasn't fond of small talk with me. I wasn't important enough for the effort to pay off, so he rarely bothered. Over the years, the association with the various trades let me add assorted skills to my repertoire, even though carpentry remained my strong point. Occasionally, it came in useful and I always liked learning new skills.

I reached the door of the guest cottage and took one more look around before leaving. Here and there I caught little glimmers of rainbow, like someone was blowing bubbles in the construction site earlier and a few of the bubbles splattered on the support beams. I knew these last remnants would fade by morning and all would seem normal when the construction crews came back to begin their insulation work prior to putting up the dry wall.

The inspectors already approved all of the plumbing and electric and the contractor in charge, the only person from the crew still on site at the moment, was as much a part of the magical community as I was, though I had yet to learn what his specialty entailed. He never volunteered and I never asked. It was considered rude to pry into such things and as he was frequently the nicest on site to me, I wanted to keep on his good side. If any tell-tale residue lasted until the morning light, it would soon be buried under the spray foam they were planning to use for insulation. It was doubtful anything would be noticed.

Satisfied with my work, I opened the door and left it behind. The family was nowhere to be seen. In truth, I didn't really expect them. I rarely saw the various owners on any site except at a distance when they came to inspect the property and check on the progress. Now, they would be even less likely to put in an appearance. It was just shy of three in the morning and corralling the various trades, including me, was what they paid the contractor for in the first place.

The contractor in question was known as Davis. I was pretty sure it was a last name, but in the time I had known him, I never heard him called anything other than just plain Davis. There was never a Mister attached to the front of it or a Mike, Dave, John, Bob or what have you appended either, just Davis. It was another thing I never asked him about.

Davis was standing a few feet away from the building, wearing his habitual scarred work boots, faded jeans and t-shirt emblazoned with his construction company's logo, the company aptly named Davis Construction. In deference to the cold, he tossed an old mud brown Carhartt jacket over the t-shirt. Light spilled from the open door into the night. As my work was finished, I snapped off the light as I closed the door behind me and walked over to Davis. His breath puffed white in the light of the faux streetlights the family installed on their estate near the winding paths connecting the separate pieces of the property. The base of each of those light posts served as an anchor for the shields protecting the pathway.

Davis stood with his back to the light, his face in shadows, expression unreadable. We started the shielding when the last of the crews left for the day around five. Despite working with him before, I wasn't certain how he felt about standing around so long while I did my thing. Usually when he stayed after hours with me we were off site by ten at the latest.

"Sorry it took so long, " I told him. The cold stung my cheeks and made me shiver. I realized my coat was still in the car. When the sun was still in the sky, it wasn't cold enough to need it. It certainly was now.

"You look tapped out, Alice, " he responded. His arm moved and I saw he was holding out his thermos. "It's hot."

"Thanks, " I said nodding. "I could use the caffeine hit." He poured the coffee into a Styrofoam cup and handed it to me. I wrapped my hands around it for warmth and took a sip, finding the brew was already doctored with cream and sugar.

"This was a bigger job than your usual ones, " Davis said as we turned and started for the driveway.

I knew Tom Malak, my handler, would be waiting in the car for me there. Technically, he was there to keep me safe, after all much of the time I was moving around dark places where bad things could always leap out of the shadows and my skills generally involved shielding until someone stronger came to do away with the bad things. Malak tended to act more as a delivery man. He brought me to the site and took me home again when I was done, figuring that if I needed something in between, I'd scream loud enough to alert him to potential dangers he needed to deal with.

Not for the first time, I wondered if he'd bother coming for me or let me get eaten.

I worked on hundreds of sites at this point in my life, many with Davis as the contractor though certainly not all, and I had much more faith in him keeping me from being snacked upon by the monsters in the darkness than I did of Malak. Even if his magic turned out to be weak, I figured the contractor liked me well enough to at least hit any monsters over the head with a handy piece of scrap wood, or at least attempt to. I wasn't certain the shadow creatures could actually be hit. With the exception of their eyes, claws and teeth, they seemed only as substantial as smoke. I was fairly certain most of the contractors I worked with would do the same, even if it was just to keep their safety record clean. Most of the time, I wasn't certain Malak even liked me that much.

"It was a long day, " I told Davis, nodding in agreement. He didn't seem to mind the extended silence between his question and my answer, possibly chalking it up to my exhaustion.

"I didn't even know you could shield tennis courts, " he continued.

"I didn't either. This was the first time someone asked, " I said honestly. "The chain link surround helped, although I think there may be some sort of residual effect as the shield didn't fade from view as well as the others. It might show some rainbow prisms from time to time depending on how the sun hits it, at least for a while."

"I'll let the owners know."

I took a sip of the hot coffee and felt some of the weariness ease away from behind my eyes. It didn't go far, I could still feel it lurking, waiting to pounce and suck me into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry you had to be out here so late."

Davis shrugged. "Not the first time I've had to work late. Probably won't be the last." Our breath puffed and dragged behind us as though we were steam engines chugging slowly through the yard. Malak's car, or at least the car he rented, came into view. The gray sedan looked like smoke in the shadowy half-light, as insubstantial as the creatures Malak was there to protect me from. Inside was Malak. His seat was tilted back, his eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open. I was certain that if the car had not been so well insulated, we would have been able to hear him snoring.

Davis frowned and rapped loudly on the window, startling Malak from his slumber as I walked around to the passenger's side of the vehicle. Malak straightened and pressed the button to unlock the doors. Davis turned his attention back to me as I opened the door.

"Get some rest Alice; you've had a long day." Davis told me. His voice was a neutral tone, his face a blank mask that might as well have been chiseled from stone.

I nodded and he turned, walking over to where his pick-up truck was parked. I slipped into the passenger's seat and buckled my seat belt as Malak started the engine.

"Chatty as always, " Malak replied, his voice surly. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and piloted the car towards the gate, Davis in his truck following us off the property so he could make certain the gate closed and locked once we were gone. I shrugged, ignoring Malak's comment. The two men rarely spoke unless it was absolutely necessary as they seemed to have an innate dislike of each other. Malak had no respect for anyone who did any sort of job even associated with manual labor and although he never said it, I knew Davis thought Malak was a bit of a tool, and not a particularly useful one.

To keep things civil, they each ignored each other as much as possible, Malak only giving vent to snarled comments when Davis was out of ear shot. For all his distain, I was certain Malak feared Davis' sheer physical strength too much to utter most of his comments where they could be overheard. While both men were the same six foot four height, Malak was thin and wiry, his luggage the heaviest item he ever picked up. Davis on the other hand, had some mass to him and muscles built from labor rather than in a gym.

I knew who my money would be on in a fight.

Knowing the work would more than likely take until the wee hours, Malak and I checked out of the hotel before reporting to the site. Our luggage was already stowed in the trunk and Malak drove straight to the airstrip where one of the Commission's private planes waited. As he drove, Malak complained about the late hour, he complained about Davis, he complained about being forced to go to a construction site in the first place. Apparently, such things were beneath him. As I heard all of the complaints before, I didn't really pay them much attention. Malak may not have bothered with small talk where I was concerned, but he was more than comfortable using me as a wailing wall.

I sipped the last of the coffee and wondered, not for the first time, how Malak came to be assigned as my handler when he clearly despised everything about it. His assignment was, however, beyond my paygrade. The Commission lined up the shielding jobs and offered the ones they thought I was suitable for to me or one of the others. I chose which ones I wanted to accept and they sent me to wherever it was I was needed, Malak at my side to keep me safe.

For this consideration they took fifteen percent of my fee.

I finished my coffee as we arrived at the air strip. The small private jet was waiting, looking as eager as Malak to be away. The rental car was parked in the small lot and we took our luggage from the trunk, Malak complaining under his breath at the lack of assistance in ferrying it to the plane. The keys to the rental car were passed to the single attendant at the small building serving as both airport and traffic control. I threw my empty cup into the trashcan and followed Malak onto the plane. The luggage was secured in its compartment and Malak headed to the back, shutting himself away in the small private space for the rest of the trip. While the private area had a larger seat and more amenities, I didn't really mind as I had the rest of the plane to myself.

"Besides, it's a short flight." I thought as I buckled myself into the seat. "And despite the coffee I'll be asleep soon anyway." The momentary buzz of caffeine was quickly wearing off and I yawned hugely, my jaw popping. I closed my eyes as the pilot's voice came over the intercom to convey the flight's particulars. I was asleep before we hit cruising altitude.

Chapter 2

In what seemed like an eye blink, I was jolted awake by the wheels of the plane making contact with the tarmac. I yawned and stretched, my back protesting having me sleep in such a position and the rest of my body upset with the fact I was awake when it clearly needed several more hours down time. I was still tired enough that my head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton, yet slightly too heavy for my neck. In addition, my belly was rumbling due to the skipped dinner and large energy output.

Outside the little window, the sun was shining brightly. Apparently, it was going to be a glorious day. The plane rolled to a stop and as the stairs were moved into place, Malak came out of his enclosure. I stood up, preparing to retrieve my bag. He gave me a quick once over glance.

"Your hair is messed up, " he informed me. I reached up and found my ponytail holder slipped as I slept. I quickly took my hair down; finger combed my long brown locks and tied it back at the nape of my neck hoping I didn't look too bedraggled. We still had to check in with the Commission's local representative, James. I harbored mixed feelings about James. I didn't really like him, but on occasion when I turned jobs down, he didn't pressure me to accept them as his predecessor had, which I appreciated. Mostly, I was just used to James and rarely gave him a thought when I wasn't in his presence.

Still he was an official representative of the Commission, the organization that helped to keep anyone born with magic safe and hidden away from the population at large. I hated looking like a bedraggled mess when brought before him. Unfortunately as I usually saw him both before and after a job, half the time I was trailing some form of dust or debris from a construction site. Resigned, I rubbed my gritty eyes, slipped on my coat, picked up my bag and followed Malak off of the plane. Despite the coat, I shivered. It was colder here, even with the brightly shining sun. The wind whipped my ponytail around and I decided it could take the blame for my disarray if anyone commented. We crossed the tarmac and went into the small airport.

This airport was larger than the one we left behind, but not by much. It was a hub for the Commission to ship people to various places for various tasks, but it also served the local community, providing commuter planes to several small nearby cities. Their normal activity kept the airport from looking suspicious. At the moment, there were only a few scattered travelers sprinkled through the airport, the bulk of them having already left. As time for the next flights drew closer, I was certain the numbers would increase, passengers ebbing and flowing with the schedule. I didn't bother looking at the signs to figure out when the next incoming tide would be. For now, those here ignored us as we moved around the edges of the waiting areas.

James kept his office in one of the back corridors and I followed Malak towards one of the security doors blocking off the corridor from the main space. Malak flashed a plastic card at the electronic scanner and the door clicked open. We stepped inside and once the sound proofed exterior door was closed and locked behind us, Malak opened the second sound proofed door located two paces further down the corridor.

I winced at the sound of the loudly voiced argument echoing off of the hallway's hard surfaces and Malak and I hurried through the second door, closing it quickly behind us in case the single layer of sound proofing wasn't enough to dull the raised voices and keep them from spilling into the public space.

"Bradford's back, " Malak told me unnecessarily. I nodded having already identified the voice of the person arguing with James. Like James Rutherford, Bradford Augustus Addison, IV was from one of the powerful mage families. They consistently produced strong magic users with multiple talents and each sometime in the distant past had an ancestor or two who accumulated and managed to keep a great deal of wealth so that the current generation had little to do in the work-a-day world.

Unlike James, who claimed the Commission worked tirelessly to maintain order, and rule both effectively and judiciously, Bradford disliked the Commission as a whole. He didn't like the Commission's rules and regulations; he didn't like privileges they received and most of all he didn't like the fact that he was not born to one of the families destined to inherit a seat on the Commission. 'It is time for new blood, ' had become his battle call, a call which was taken up by many likeminded people of similar families who, like the Addison Clan, weren't quite established enough to boast a seat on the Commission.

That was of course the injustice they most wanted to change.

As far as I could tell it was the only difference in their policies and politics, although they frequently liked to claim otherwise. Of course, no one was asking me. The Appleton Family tended to produce people like me with only one talent each and a tendency to go into either the trades or academics. For every carpenter and electrician we boasted, we claimed an equal number of professors, usually of ancient history or linguistics. My cousin Sean and I, currently the only two remaining members of the once large Appleton Clan, learned both Latin and Ancient Greek while learning how to make dove tailed joints and rewire lamps. None of these family facets earned us either seats on the Commission or ranked just below those destined for seats and determined to change the system.

Not that I particularly liked the system.

Like James, I was mostly used to it and didn't think the other group planned on changing more than the house sigils on the Commission's roster if they did manage to take power. I was certain that any issues I or anyone like me for that matter, raised with the way things operated would be deemed too insignificant to bother addressing and the world would go on as it had before.

Malak and I approached the office, the sound of the voices getting louder the closer we came to the source. Finally, we pushed the main door open and stepped into the office's reception area. Marcie, James Rutherford's secretary, was typing at her computer and doing her best to pretend not to hear the argument issuing from her boss's inner sanctum. She looked both relieved and resigned by our arrival. Knowing why we were there, she stood up from her chair.

"I'll let him know you are here, " she said. Bravely, she turned to the office door and entered into the fray, closing the inner office door behind her. The voices behind the door quieted and moments later the door was flung open as Bradford strode into the waiting area. His color was high from his argument making his pale skin actually resemble something other than uncooked bread dough. The knot in his tie had even come slightly askew, which was the most out of sorts I had ever seen Bradford. Normally he resembled a cut out from a men's clothing advertisement, albeit one that specialized in high end, expertly tailored suits. He straightened his tie and looked in our direction.

Spotting me, he sneered. "Ah, the blind, imperialist dupe returns from doing the bidding of her masters, " He said. "Run along so you can report in."

Normally, I simply ignored people like Bradford, letting whatever comments they spewed roll off me. Nothing I said would really change his attitude anyway. Early on I tried questioning policy with people like him and grew tired of hitting my head on that particular brick wall. Today I was tired, hungry and Bradford was delaying me getting both food and sleep. It was my only excuse for not keeping my mouth shut, even though I knew better.

"And what would you have me do if you were in charge?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"I would have you shield those who truly needed it, " He declared. I watched him march to the bookshelves and pull one of the booklets listing the shielding regulations from the available stack. He tossed the regulations at me and I caught it on reflex, pleased it hadn't actually hit me in the nose. It was a close call though and I could see Bradford knew it and didn't really care. In fact he looked almost upset by the lack of collision.

"Then why aren't you yelling at the people who make the rules rather than the one who just enforces them?" I asked, irritated as I lowered my hand.

His face colored with embarrassment, crimson staining his cheeks. "Ignorant fool, " he hissed at me before stalking to the main door and flinging it open, making a dramatic exit.

"I thought I was an imperialist's dupe, " I called after him. The door slammed shut behind him. Beside me Malak sighed and shook his head. I really didn't need his condemnation. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. People like Bradford could make things very unpleasant for me with very little effort.

"Because if he tried speaking to the actual Commission like that, he'd be up on charges of sedition and he knows it, " James said from the doorway of his office answering the question Bradford ignored. Marcie resumed her place, clicking away on her keyboard as though the rest of us didn't exist. "I'm a much safer option for venting his spleen."

"He certainly was in a mood, Mr. Rutherford, " Malak said differentially. Listening to him, I thought Bradford might have miscalculated as to which one of us was the imperialist in residence's dupe.

Even though we were both told to call him James when he took this position, neither of us ever did so to his face and he never corrected the use of his surname. At this point I perfected the art of not actually using his name at all when in his presence referring to him as neither Mr. Rutherford nor the more familiar James. Not that I usually spoke in his presence. James beckoned us both into his office. I followed behind Malak, still holding the booklet of rules and regulations Bradford hurled at my head, even though both of us left our luggage in the waiting area. I knew we wouldn't be gone long and I doubted Marcie would let people run off with the bags.

"He certainly was, " James replied as he settled himself behind his desk. Dressed in a three piece, pin striped suit, thinning brown hair still showing the teeth marks of his comb, James looked like a stereotypical banker behind his giant mahogany desk. "One of his compatriots wanted shielding, but didn't meet the requirements. The apartment he is renting may have a tony address, but it isn't owned by anyone in the magical community and most of his neighbors are regular people, wealthy of course, but not part of the magical community."

I nodded knowing ownership of the property was the first requirement the Commission had on their list. I didn't need to look at the booklet in my hand to know there was no way Bradford's friend was going to get the Commission to break it.

"Even if he had met the requirements of course, " James continued. "He wasn't willing to pay the fee, apparently believing the Commission should just give shields to him because he wanted it and comes from a powerful family. Said friend complained to Bradford, Bradford came here. I'm sure you heard enough of the rest."

James slipped on a pair of reading glasses, which only increased the banker-ly image, and turned to his computer screen. He tapped a few keys, using only his two index fingers and smiled when the information he wanted came on the screen. While watching him hunt and peck, I wondered who wanted me, or others like me to not only ignore the rules, but to work for free.

"There we are, the Fausti job. Any complications?" James asked.

"None, " Malak answered.

I wondered if he would have noticed if any complications had occurred as he spent most of his time in the car either listening to audio books or sleeping. Although Malak liked to say he listened to various historical treatise and books about war to pass the time, I knew from overheard snippets that he alternated between self-help books and trashy romance novels.

I tried not to judge.

Well, at least not out loud.

Personally I didn't care what he listened to, but found it absurd that he lied about it when he knew I could see the covers of his audio books as well as overhearing bits of the text from time to time. I didn't think most history books were concerned with the inner you or used words like throbbing and smoldering quite as often as Malak's books. I could be wrong of course; perhaps Alexander the Great's secret to empire building lay in the smoldering looks he favored on his generals before battle.

"Excellent, " James responded, not even looking at me. He poked a couple of more keys, frowned at the screen and poked a couple more. He nodded in satisfaction. "Ah, larger job that explains it." Through the still open door I could hear the sound of a printer. Moments later Marcie walked in, handed James two sheets of paper and walked back out. James signed each and slid them across his desk to me.

"As usual, the fee was deposited into your account electronically. It is larger than usual, given the size of the job of course." I nodded and scanned the sheet, familiar with the procedure. The sheet was my receipt and my proof that the council owed me money should the fee not appear in my bank account as promised. I started taking shielding jobs for the commission at the age of twelve, saving up the early payments to pay for college, and while there were many things I could say about the commission, delinquent in payment wasn't one of them. At thirty-two, twenty full years after my first job with them, I knew the payment would be fully accredited to my bank account before I even made it home.

I signed both copies, left one on the desk and slipped the other in the back of the rules and regulations booklet I still held. When I got home, I would file it with the other similar receipts. I liked to keep my records straight.

"I see you got the updated codes, " James said, gesturing to the booklet. "Good. Not much has changed, but a refresher is always useful. Glad to see you are keeping on top of it." James crossed his hands in front of him on the desk, fingers laced together, thumbs pressed against each other to form a steeple above; his signal that our time with him was over. Malak turned and walked towards the door. I followed and we reclaimed our luggage before leaving.

Instead of returning to the main terminal, we took the back exit, going through two entirely different sound proofed doors at the end of a corridor running the opposite direction from the gates. This one left us in a secured parking lot when we exited the building. I followed Malak to his black SUV and we placed our luggage in the trunk. Once again I took the passenger's seat and Malak piloted us through the security gates and onto the highway. Malak was silent as he completed his final task on the 'keep Alice safe' detail, namely dropping me off at my apartment building. From there, I was, of course on my own.

Used to his silences, I concentrated on not falling asleep in my seat. Luckily it was a short drive, Malak soon leaving me, my luggage and my new copy of the rules and regulations at the main door to my apartment building. He drove away without a word and I entered the building, happy to be out of the cold wind. Normally, I would have gone for the stairs, today I was tired enough to take the elevator. Oddly enough the elevator smelled of charcoal and barbeque sauce.

"That's new, " I said as the doors dinged open, letting me out on the third floor. The elevator smelled of lemon scented cleaner when I left and it was a bit late in the season for cook outs. The pool in our complex had been covered for at least a month. As I rolled my small bag towards my apartment door, my stomach rumbled. I debated food vs. sleep as I dug out my keys and opened the door. A flurry of excited barking greeted my arrival and Winston, my overly enthusiastic dog rushed to welcome me home. Despite being half English Staffordshire and half American Pit bull, Winston believed himself to be more of the Yorkshire terrier scale and frequently bowled me over with his overly enthusiastic greetings. I braced myself as his weight plowed into my knees and although I dropped both the booklet and the handle to my luggage, I didn't fall over.

"Yes, yes I see you, " I told Winston who gave up barking so he could lick instead. "I was only gone a few days not a few months. You make it sound like I was trekking the Sahara."

"Don't let him fool you, " A voice said from the hallway leading to the bedrooms. I looked up to see Sean amusedly watching my homecoming extravaganza. "We went for a nice long run in the park this morning and not only has he eaten, but he managed to completely destroy that rawhide bone thing you got him last week."

I laughed and shook my head. "That didn't take long did it?" Satisfied with his greeting, Winston left me, crossing the living room and going to the edge of the kitchen. He lay down next to his empty food bowl and rolled his eyes up to look at me while letting loose a pathetic sounding whine. "I'm not falling for that trick, " I told him. "I know Sean didn't abuse or starve you while I was gone."

"So how did it go?" Sean asked as I shucked off my coat and tried to force it into our overstuffed coat closet. Sean, my cousin, business partner, best friend and roommate, settled himself on the couch watching my fight. I succeeded in wrangling a hanger and forcing my coat between a large puffy coat Sean liked to wear skiing and the wool trench coat I wore when I actually had to look nice in the cold. Feeling triumphant when the closet door managed to shut again, I moved to the kitchen to make a peanut butter sandwich, figuring something in my belly before sleep would be a good plan. The suitcase and booklet I left where they were for the time being.

"You mean how was my excursion as a blind imperialistic dupe?" I opened the bread, took two slices and put the bag back on top of the fridge.

"Or maybe an ignorant fool, I'm not sure what the final call was. Bradford was in the office when we got back." I explained.

"Ah, " Sean replied, not needing more of an explanation.

"The job went well though, larger than usual so I was paid more, " I continued as I spread a thick layer of peanut butter on one slice of the bread. "I learned I could shield tennis courts, so if anyone is attacked during a doubles match they will be fine no matter which of the two courts they are playing on."

"Always handy, " Sean replied as I decided to add strawberry jam to my sandwich, making it a PB and J instead of just a peanut butter sandwich.

"I'm also pretty sure Malak finished Becoming the Man You Always Knew You Could Be and moved on to Ensnared by Passion. The woman on the cover of that one had quite impressive breasts." I returned the jam to the fridge, poured myself a glass of milk and took the milk and plate containing my sandwich back to the living room. I placed them on the coffee table while I sat down in the arm chair across from Sean.

"Heaving bosom, " Sean said.

"Excuse me?" I took a bite of my sandwich and felt the rumblings in my tummy quiet.

"I don't think they are referred to as impressive breasts. That would be tacky. If they are on the cover of a romance novel, it is referred to as a heaving bosom. It's classier that way."

"Well, I would hate to be tacky, " I told him with a laugh.

"That's why I'm here, to uphold the classy level of our family."

"I thought it was because this apartment is within walking distance of the shop and neither of us has ever gotten motivated enough to look at buying our own houses?" I replied.

"That's just my cover story. Oh and speaking of the shop, Gracie stopped in while you were gone because you weren't answering your phone. I told her you were personally overseeing the delivery of a special order. I left out any other details, figuring you could add your own if you wanted."

"Thanks, " I replied. Gracie was a friend I made in college and while she was a close friend, she knew nothing of the magical world or my extra abilities. This was hardly the first time we used the 'supervising a delivery' line. "I appreciate the cover story."

"No sweat. She was very eager to see you though. Apparently there is some sort of auction coming up she wants you to attend. I told her you'd be back Monday if she wanted to stop by, "

"Ah, " I said nodding. "I mentioned that we were running out of space here and were either going to have to do a mass clear out or start looking at houses. She decided that because I routinely build things and have conversations with various tradesmen; a foreclosure auction would be the perfect solution. I'm guessing she found one."

"A foreclosure auction?" Sean asked frowning.

"Yeah, I think she saw it on one of those home improvement shows she likes to watch and she thought it was a good idea."

"That seems overly ambitious, especially for her." Sean said with a laugh.

I nodded. While Gracie had a keen eye for design, mostly used for exquisitely designed marketing campaigns, handing her any sort of tool meant that in very short order you would be making a trip to the emergency room. "I think she likes the concept of making a home completely your own from the bare bones up as well as the recycling aspect and thinks I have the skills to pull it off."

"I've seen those shows, " Sean said thoughtfully. "It actually might be less risky for you since you wouldn't be trying to flip it for a profit."

"Don't encourage her, " I told him. "Since we are speaking of the shop though, why are you home at this time of day anyway? Shouldn't you be chatting up designers and managing the website and workforce?"

"You do realize it is Sunday and that we are closed on Sundays?"

"Is it?" I shook my head. "I always get so mixed up when the crews work weekends." I shrugged. "That does explain the lack of commuters at the airport though. Well, at least I won't feel bad taking an extended nap once this sandwich is done. I didn't get finished until about three this morning."

"Ouch, was the hunky contractor there this time?" Sean fluttered his eyelashes at me and I frowned. Once, over martinis, I confessed to having a little crush on Davis and Sean never let me forget it.

"Davis was there, " I told him, finishing off my sandwich. "Didn't you have a date with a fireman while I was gone? Shouldn't that have maxed out your man candy limit?" I reached for my milk as Sean rolled his eyes and heaved a long suffering sigh.

"Jacob. It was a complete trip to Dullsville with side trip to Boring Town for good measure. We were a total mismatch and now of course my fireman fantasy is ruined. Now when I try to bring it to mind, all I hear in my head is Jacob droning on about how many pounds he can bench press and the health benefits of protein shakes."

I laughed, finished my milk and took my plate and glass to the kitchen. "Did you at least make a dirty joke about protein shakes, " I asked, knowing my cousin.

"Of course. He frowned and told me nutrition was serious business and then proceeded to point out all the bad choices heaped on my plate as compared to his own. Speaking of which, we went to that new restaurant that just opened up down on fifth, Celeste. Really good food and the prices weren't bad. My pork chop had some sort of Calvados and ginger glaze or sauce or something that I could guzzle by the bucketful if they'd let me and even Jacob's plain-jane steamed fish with steamed veggies looked pretty good. Admittedly, it probably would have looked better if he hadn't asked them to put the sauce on the side."

"I'll have to give it a try then, " I told him. I rinsed off my dishes and left them in the rack to dry. I yawned hugely. Now that my belly was full, my exhaustion was rising. I was fed and it was time for sleep. I had one final question though and while relatively unimportant I knew it would nag me if I didn't ask.

"Do you know what's up with the charcoal smell in the elevator, " I asked as I rubbed my eyes and started towards my bedroom.

"Mark was trying to get one last barbeque in before the really cold weather kicked in. There was some sort of mishap as he was taking all of the elements down to the rec area. Poor guy was shivering the whole time. He looked miserable and despite the tinfoil he put over the plate, everything had to be ice cold by the time he got it back upstairs."

"Let me guess, " I said, thinking of our twenty-two year old neighbor and the group of people he usually had flocking about him. "His band of cohorts refused to eat by the covered up pool?"

"You got it, " Sean told me.

"Well at least I won't stay up wondering about the elevator's new scent, thanks, " I told him. "See you in a few hours."

I left Sean in the living room and headed to my bedroom. I quickly stripped off my clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor and pulled on an oversized t-shirt to sleep in. I slipped beneath the covers, pleased to be surrounded by the scent of my fabric softener instead of the industrial detergent the motel favored. As I settled, I remembered my suitcase standing next to the front door.

"I should get that, " I thought. Instead, I closed my eyes and let sleep claim me.

Chapter 3

When I woke up the angle of the sun had changed. The sun fell in thick bands through the open curtains looking almost solid and for a moment, I imagined it was summertime and that outside it was warm as well as light. I knew however that bright cloudless days usually meant that the temperature outside would be downright frigid. I felt better for my sleep, but knew that with little effort, I could sink back into slumber.

"And then tomorrow would be hell when I had to get up on time, " I reminded myself knowing I needed to get back into routine. We had a large order going out this week. While I knew the basic furniture the boutique hotel wanted would be ready, the bulk of it being knocked out before I left, I still had to finish the unique, stand-out piece they wanted for their lobby. The drawings had been approved, materials ordered and work begun. In fact the only reason I felt comfortable leaving for the Commission's job was because several of the pieces that comprised the lobby's showstopper needed to sit in clamps while the glue dried completely before I continued the assembly and finishing process.

"Everything should be ready to continue tomorrow morning, " I told myself. I stretched and forced myself to leave the bed. A shower and clean clothes made me feel better about being awake. I headed into the living room and found Sean seated on the couch reading through the new list of regulations Bradford chucked at my head. My suitcase had been wheeled out of the way and Winston was chewing on a large rawhide bone.

"I thought he finished the bone, " I said pausing to rub Winston's head before taking a seat in the living room. Winston snorted at me and then went back to his toy.

"He did, I picked up another one when I ran out, " Sean said, frowning at the regulations without looking up.

"Thanks, " I replied. "Something have you concerned?" I gestured to the regulations booklet.

"You know I never really read these, " he told me. "I mean they were always around since you've been taking jobs since we were kids and I always thought it was cool that you could make shields to keep the monsters out, especially after seeing them first hand."

Sean absently ran a hand over the small scars on his left arm. With time they faded and merely looked like light lines drawn over his skin rather than the claw marks left behind by some shadow creature craving the taste of his blood. I knew he sometimes still had nightmares about the attack; not as many as he once did, but still they occurred. Sometimes I still had nightmares too. It wasn't something we discussed.

"And I always thought that getting people to agree with you was a nifty trick, " I countered, pretending I didn't notice his sub-conscious attention to the scar.

"It did make my time as a trial lawyer quite profitable, but also quite boring, " He said with a weak smile as he looked up from the booklet. Sean finished top of his class in law school and sailed through his bar exams. His one magical talent meant that when he argued in court, everyone agreed with him, including the opposition, jury and judge. Essentially, he was a lawyer who couldn't lose. It didn't take long for people to start to notice. He was paid quite well by those who hired him until his brief career as a star attorney was brought to a close.

The Commission pointed out that he was gaining too much notoriety and people were beginning to question his uncanny ability to win cases. Unfortunately, Sean's gift only worked on those without magical ability of their own and Sean was unable to convince them to let him continue. He switched to contract work instead and when our grandfather became sick, began putting in more time with me at the shop, eventually the two of us running it together. While Sean still maintained an office in the one story building next to the shop and occasionally worked on legal matters not related to the business, the bulk of his work was for Appleton Furniture. He claimed not to miss it, but I often wondered.

"These regulations are quite strict, " he told me.

"I know, " I said nodding.

"Somewhat unnecessarily strict if you want my opinion. I mean, once the shield is put up and all of the other bits are put on top of it, you can't even tell it's there. Yet the commission limits who can actually have a shield put on their domicile in the first place."

"Yeah, " I said with a sigh. It was often a bone of contention, but I had long since given up arguing with James over the restrictions. He hadn't listened to my arguments of policy any more than his predecessor, Jeffrey. I pointed out that the restrictions left too many without even the possibility of shields even beyond the actual cost of paying the person installing them. In addition, since they couldn't be seen once they were installed, what did it matter who owned the property? His answers were always the same; this is the way things are, the Commission has its reasons, there is plenty of room for you to work within the confines of the law, and my personal favorite, the restrictions place no undue burden on you so let it be.

"I think it's so they can control the pay scale, " I told him. "And so they can get people to move to the suburbs." The restrictions always seemed heavier for those who lived in the city, at least to me anyway.

"They control the pay scale?" he asked with a frown.

"Yup, each person capable of creating shields is tested when the Commission gets a hold of them. Essentially for our test, we had to create a shield for a room and then they had people come in to test it until the shield broke. How long it takes to break and what force it takes to break it, determine your shielding level. The Commission then assigns you a category and tells you what that category's pay scale is. I'm in the twenty dollars per square foot range."

"Oh, " Sean said. He looked back at the regulations. "You do realize that according to this, the only reason our apartment has a shield is because you live here?"

I sighed and brought the specific regulations to mind. "Article two, paragraph six, section twelve point four, " I began, and then remembered the regulations had just been updated. "Unless they've changed it with this new set, of course. The building in question must be the sole property of a member of the magical community, in good standing, in order to be eligible for shield placement. If the building in question is a multi-unit dwelling, each unit must be occupied by members of the magical community or be the sole property of the individual creating, not purchasing, the shielding." I nodded as part of the punctuation. "There are other sections that deal with the sale of said properties as well as non-residential properties, but I didn't memorize them."

"I'm impressed, " he told me.

"The rules don't really change much. At least that one doesn't anyway, regardless of Bradford's thoughts on the matter."

"Is that why you are an imperialist's dupe?" Sean asked letting a smile slip onto his face.

"Yup, " I replied. "Apparently Bradford has a friend from a good family who wants his current apartment shielded despite not owning it or having any of the other requirements."

"And Bradford thought yelling at James would change that?" Sean chuckled and shook his head.

"He probably thought he could get James to bend the rules just for him."

"Of course he did."

"He also didn't want to pay for the shields."

"Sadly, that doesn't actually surprise me." Sean replied shaking his head. He glanced back down at the regulations booklet and then back up at me. "You do realize that we live in a multi-unit property, not owned by a member of the magical community and that very few, if any of our neighbors are members of the magical community either?"

"I realize that, " I said. There was a note in Sean's voice I couldn't quite identify. "There is also a section that removes a lot of the restrictions for anyone who can actually create shields. I can shield away to my heart's content if I or one of my family members lives here, regardless of who owns the building or whether or not they are considered to be in good standing. Admittedly, I think they put that part in because they knew they couldn't prevent us from shielding the places we lived in regardless of who actually owned them."

"Sooner or later we are both going to have to actually look at getting places of our own, either with or without Gracie's foreclosure auction. We're already older than most of the people in this building. When Mark spilled his charcoal, he apologized to me, called me Sir and promised to clean it up right away. I think he was worried I'd be the cranky older man reporting him to the super."

I smiled, even though I could see Sean was serious. As Mark and his friends routinely referred to me as either Ma'am or Miss Alice, I understood his pain. While there were many apartment buildings throughout the city where residents lived their entire adult lives, ours wasn't one of them. It tended to attract people in their twenties who only stayed a few years at best. Sean and I moved in when we were both still in university and because it suited us, never really left, watching the apartments around us frequently change occupants. "Then when we get our own places, I will make certain you have the best shielding I can provide."

Sean waved the invoice sheet I stuck in the back of the regulations booklet. "And you think I can afford this on top of buying a house?"

"Are you planning to buy an enormous mansion complete with pool, pool house, boat house, manmade lake, two tennis courts, a guest house, a two story dog house and practically miles of winding picturesque pathways connecting them all?" I countered.

"Well no, " he said with a frown. "Wait, a two story dog house?"

"Of course Swizzle Stick, the Labradoodle, deserves only the best, " I replied loftily.

"Now I feel bad for only getting Winston the rawhide." We both looked over to the busily chomping Winston. Sensing our attention, he lifted his head up and looked around. He wagged his stump of a tail when he saw us looking at him, but seeing no edibles in evidence, he quickly dismissed us and returned to destroying his bone.

"Look, " I told Sean returning to our conversation. "When the time comes and we both get off our butts and actually look for places to permanently live, I'll get the estimate for whatever house you buy. You'll owe the Commission their fifteen percent. I'll waive my fee." Sean frowned at me. I sighed dramatically. "If you prefer we could get a giant jar and every so often you can toss a nickel into the jar until you've paid off the rest of the shielding cost. Does that make you feel better?"

"Marginally, " he replied, the worry easing back from his eyes. "But what about all of the people who can't just pay you on the jarred nickel scale?"

"I don't know, " I replied. "I tried arguing with James about it, but he insisted the Commission knew what it was doing." I snorted remembering the discussion. It had been less of a discussion than I wanted. Fired up with a sense of justice, my much younger self wanted an argument where I could fight for what was right or at least have my points of contention validated. Instead, I more or less got an indulgent smile, a pat on the head and a 'don't worry your pretty little head about it' attitude. After countless repetitions of the same with little to no variation in the scene, I gave up trying. I thought of Bradford and my frown deepened. Was he right about me being an imperialist's dupe after all?

"He wanted his friends to have shields without paying for them, " I reminded myself. "So maybe not completely right, but maybe not completely wrong." While I thought I deserved some compensation for the work I did, Bradford's comment about providing shields to people who really needed them stung. While I loved dogs, I knew there were a host of people more deserving of a proper shield then Swizzle Stick. I sighed, hating for a moment that I was considering siding with Bradford about anything. The thought just seemed... wrong.

"Enough of this, " Sean declared, setting the regulations aside. "No more doom and gloom for tonight. What do you say to ordering pizza? We could veg out with grade B monster movies, pizza and beer and do nothing productive until morning."

"That sounds like a plan, " I replied, willing to shake off any potential mental alliances with Bradford. While Sean called in our order, I took my suitcase and the regulations booklet to my room. I filed the invoice in the folder with the rest and made a determined effort to put all thoughts of shields out of my mind until a later, but unspecified, date. I emptied my clothes from the suitcase and into the hamper and pushed all thoughts of Bradford into a deep, dark, mental hole before rejoining Sean in the living room for a nice quiet, mentally uncomplicated evening.