Fremont Neighborhood, Seattle
Elisabeth Van Horn of Seattle's Van Horn Coven knew very well that she was like the lone dandelion growing in a garden full of roses and lilies. She was okay with that. The witch-crafters of her coven were all lawyers, politicians and judges with powerful type-A personalities. They didn't understand her. She knew she had her quirks. But that didn't stop them from taking full advantage of her gifts. She was okay with that as well. She didn't mind plying her craft for the family's benefit as long as they indulged her hobbies and left her alone. They stood by the unwritten agreement—mostly. Her only issue came when events incited their paranoia. They became overprotective and that was a pain.
She wasn't a sophisticated seer like her sister Cassandra or a beautiful genius lawyer like Emily. Tall and awkward, Elisabeth had an unfortunate sense of humor that came out at the most inopportune times. Two attributes defined her. She was the most gifted harmonizer anyone had seen in decades and she was smart—genius level smart. As a result, the Aunties who governed her coven had allowed her to go her own way and indulge the insatiable curiosity that ruled her life absolute. That curiosity was why she had spent twelve years matriculating at the University of Washington. When she finished one major, she went on to another. She had degrees in mathematics, industrial design, philosophy, psychology and history.
Along the way, she rose to a twelfth-circle adept specializing in the weft and warp of the exotic patterns of magical wards and hexes. Her coven's clients paid good money to have powerful hexes entangled into their contracts and wills. The consequences of breaking one of Elisabeth Van Horn's warded contracts were severe.
On the third Monday in September, a dreary rainy day in the Fremont neighborhood of Seattle, Elisabeth's well-ordered life took an unexpected turn.
The day had started well. After bustling around her morning routine, making sure her craftsman-style house was spotless and in that perfect mix of order and chaos that is the razor-thin perfection of Feng Shui, she spent the balance of the morning editing her latest passion—a historical romance she was writing for fun, which featured the adventures of a young Victorian woman named Molly Quirk. She hoped to read a chapter to a writer's group she'd discovered that met weekly at the Phinney Ridge Neighborhood Center.
Emily thought her manuscript "a bit lurid," but Elisabeth discounted her opinion. What did she know? Emily was one of those people with so much romance in her life that there was no room for any in her soul.
She was jarred out of Grammarly's punctuation hints when her grandmother's raven, Nevermore, came rocketing from wherever it was hiding from her cat, Button's relentless stalking. The big ebony feathered bird perched on the cherry hat stand an antique dealer had assured her had once belonged to Grover Cleveland and began cawing, "Trouble is coming—trouble is coming."
Next, the oven timer began its annoying beeping, announcing that the treats she was baking for the meeting were done.
And someone came pounding on her front door.
The male who stood in the doorway was easily the most gorgeous man Elisabeth had ever seen. Rumpled blue-black hair barely covering peaked ears, brilliant feline-shaped sapphire blue eyes—tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders that narrowed to a trim waist. He wore a flawless charcoal suit and brilliant white shirt with no tie to hide the thick, tanned column of his neck. His voice matched his appearance. She searched for a descriptor and settled on euphonious.
An asrai-halfling—a half-blood wood elf.
On her front porch.
Stunned, Elisabeth realized she had gotten so lost in looking at him and listening to that melodious voice that she missed what he had said.
"Beg pardon?"
"My Mistress would like a moment of your time. We understand you are the Van Horn's Hexer."
Alarm flared. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. That she was the Van Horn Coven's Hexer was a closely guarded secret.
Very closely.
This was trouble, but sudden curiosity overcame her alarm.
"Very well, please come in."
The elf stepped aside. The women who followed him were equally exotic. Two exquisite Asian women with long ebony hair and slanted, intelligent yellow eyes. They were similar enough to be sisters. The main difference between them was the color of their elaborate silk cheongsams. One wore scarlet, the other emerald green.
Something about them rang warning bells. The presence of the elf told her they were from Oldtown. The women had an aura, a presence that she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Hello, Elisabeth Van Horn," the scarlet-clad woman's greeting contained the faintest trace of an accent.
Nevermore kept chanting the warning, "Trouble is near—trouble is here." Elisabeth waved her hand to silence the bird.
"N'in hao," she said politely.
The eldest of the two's eyebrows rose. "Nǐ shuō pǔtōnghuà?" (You speak Mandarin?)
"A bit," Elisabeth answered. "I speak seven languages fluently. Unfortunately, my Mandarin is too rusty to carry on a long conversation."
"Very interesting. My information about you didn't include that little tidbit." She shot a glare at the elf.
The handsome halfling shrugged.
The other woman had a distracted look that morphed into alarm. She shouted. "Jiějiě wéixiǎn láile", (elder sister danger). She stepped back to the door, tried to open it and cursed when she couldn't.
"You will be perfectly safe as long as you do no harm," Elisabeth said cheerfully.
The scarlet-clad woman stared at Elisabeth for a long moment, then nodded and smiled.
Elisabeth spoke again. "Ladies, please have a seat. I'll put the kettle on. May I offer you some tea? I rarely have guests, but I have some Gyokuro Tea that my sister picked up in Hong Kong. I think you'll find it refreshing with some blueberry tarts that just came out of the oven."
"Yes, please," the woman said with a smile. "It had been a long time since I've tasted the Gyokuro."
Elisabeth looked a question at the other woman and elf. They waved her off with a polite smile.
After the tea was steeped and poured, the woman took an appreciative sip. "Most excellent. You do well for yourself. This is a rare blend."
"Thank you. I'll put some up for you to take with you."
"You must be wondering why I wanted to meet with you."
"Yes," Elisabeth said. "I was wondering. Usually, people who want to meet me call first. As far as I know, we've never met. I'm just an ordinary research librarian. Do you need some research done?"
"You are too modest. I am told that you are anything but ordinary. You hold two doctorates, and as far as we can tell, you hold advanced status as a high circle witch-crafter. Interestingly, everyone we talked to has had a different idea of your profession. But we're quite certain you are the expert Hexer that the Van Horns are so proud of."
