Excerpt

It was the best of days. It was the worst of days. Oh, well. At least the day was almost over.

I indulged in a long, luxurious stretch after finishing the chart for the last patient of the day. It was two hours after closing time. I seriously needed to start disciplining myself to do files right after each patient while everything was fresh and would take no time at all. But the schedule was so tight—I squeezed as many patients in as I could, to pay the bills—and the result was working long after the office closed

The phone was set to forward to voicemail as soon as office hours ended. Not that there wouldn't be more work tomorrow, but at least soon I would be able to lock the door on my practice, go home, pour myself a tall, cold glass of lemonade, take my shoes off, and relax. Preferably with a book.

Because my life was wild and exciting!

I still had a few little tasks before leaving— Molly, the woman who covered reception and most admin tasks, had offered to help, I liked making sure the water was topped off for this week's flowers. The sunflowers bobbed cheerfully as I moved them to pour the water in. It marked the end of the day. We'd had a huge run of people today. Good for the bottom line but exhausting.

The outer door opened with an unmistakable squeak. I jumped, hopping out of my chair and peering into the reception area to see who had snuck in.

Shyla and Geoff, my best friends and colleagues, walked in. Shyla, a slender brunette with waist-length brown hair, wore a lovely dress that I didn't recognize and a thunderous frown. Geoff, tall and spare, had relaxed enough to remove his ever-present tie and unbutton the collar of his dress shirt.

I glanced at the clock on the wall, saw the time, and it hit me.

Crap on a cracker. I was supposed to have met them at Spanky's for supper forty-five minutes ago. Our once-a-quarter dress up and eat well date, where they often brought an extra who happened to be single. It appeared they'd run out of options this month since a plus one wasn't with them. This dinner had been to celebrate their son's early admittance to college. Zander was fifteen and living with his grandfather so he could attend the state university.

Crap. I was such a bad friend.

"You have the right to remain silent…" Shyla said, humor seasoning her annoyed tone.

"Because everything I say can and will be used against me?"

"Pretty much," Geoff said. "Lost track of time again? You should do your charting between patients, Rina." He shrugged at me. "I called, but it went straight to voicemail."

"We thought you were in a ditch somewhere," Shyla added.

"I know, and I'm so sorry." I sighed, feeling all the guilt. "Are you still hungry? Let me check my email really quick and we can go."

"Make it fast. I'm starving. Spanky's beer cheese soup is calling my name. And we're going to Zorbaz next week, no arguments, where'll you'll meet Pierce. Luckily, he had to cancel at the last-minute tonight, so we didn't have to explain your absence." Shyla folded her arms and gave me a stern look.

Apparently, they hadn't run out of single men. Just freaking kidding. Compelled by their hangry eyes, I hurried back to the computer and checked my email.

My younger brother had emailed my work account, flagging it as urgent. I sighed and opened it to see what fight he'd had with his boyfriend today.

When I read the first sentence, my jaw dropped. It was a forwarded email from one of our cousins. Someone had found a way to make thin-blooded people be able to use the magic they were born to.

It wasn't April first, either. This was no joke.

Oh, dear, the fat was truly in the fire then. Gran was going to be furious. This was not going to be fun.

Dear old Gran had a vested interest in supernatural beings remaining unknown to the general population.

And, well, if people like Bobby and me could tap into our magic, it might shift the family's power dynamic a bit. Which could get ugly. I had a bunch of ambitious cousins. As in… a lot. Many. Various and sundry.

You get the picture.

My cell phone waited in my desk drawer for me to turn on. My own work ethic insisted that I follow the same rules I had in place for Molly and my tech. Fumbling in the drawer, I pulled it out and turned it on with a soft chime of greeting. I waited for the barrage of pings, because my family, both large and demanding, wouldn't stop texting me during the day even though they knew my self-imposed rule. At least there weren't any collection agencies. I was keeping my head just above water by juggling debt from one credit card to another over and over, but every month the amount owed got a little bit smaller.

A very little bit.

Being buried in debt did that. And I had the joy of years of student loan debt and the company I'd signed on with fresh out of chiropractic school had stuck me with all the setup costs for my practice while also allowing me to pay them for the privilege of existing. Nice seeming people, but I hadn't researched enough and that was my fault. I wouldn't make that mistake twice. Once had cost me enough.

Strange that I'd fallen for it more than once. My boyfriend in undergrad had been the same type. Nice enough to talk with and hang with, but strictly there for what he could get.

Then in chiropractic school, no one outside the program had understood just how grueling the coursework was. Most of the other students had already been married or dating their college sweethearts and of the remaining few, I'd never clicked with anyone.

Shyla and Geoff had tried to set me up a couple of times starting in school, but none of those had worked out either.

There'd been no time for men once I had graduated and set up my practice. My life was work and family. It actually made for a pleasant routine, though Wild Me—the name I'd given to all the impulses I didn't act on—pouted sometimes. But even she understood that no money meant I rarely went out, so the only men I met were patients. Dating them was full-blown unprofessional conduct which would cause me to lose my license in a hot minute.

Once I dug myself out of debt I would date. And I wouldn't ask for help. Gran's money had so many strings attached to it that it could double as a lifelong crafter's yarn stash. A lifelong crafter with hoarding tendencies.

I turned my phone on. "Hang on, urgent email!"

Shyla's eyes roll was almost audible. "Hurry up!"

My phone pinged. A text from my brother arrived. OMG WTF??!

Well, Bobby, I didn't know either, but I would do my best to find out.

The computer beeped as an email from Gran's assistant arrived.

Meeting at the estate. Attendance is required, arrive pronto.

My eyes went to the time stamp on the email, then the clock. Sent almost two hours ago.

I cringed. When Gran said pronto, she meant yesterday. I was going to catch absolute hell.

Oh, well. I was forty freaking years old. I was a professional. I was not terrified of the iron fist of my grandmother.

And if I kept repeating that, I might someday believe it. Eventually.

I hurried out to the reception area.

Geoff frowned at my expression. "Did someone get hurt?"

"Don't know. Gran's calling the family in, and I can't bail. Raincheck? I'm so sorry." My voice shook a bit. Don't judge me. Gran flustered me. She flustered everyone.

Shyla gave me a quick hug. "Raincheck. Let us know everything's all right later, okay?"

I hugged her back. "I will. See you."

In the car, I tried calling my younger brother Bobby, but it went straight to voicemail.

Bobby was a poster child for education as an avoidance of life—the kid was brilliant. He was working on his second Ph.D., fluent in Hindi, and flatly refused to stop going to school until somebody offered him a minimum salary of a quarter million a year. He'd already gotten offers for over a hundred thousand, but he wanted an adult job.

I rolled my eyes at him whenever that topic came up, or his arguments as to why he shouldn't move out of our parents' house.

He was the baby, fifteen years younger than me, and had been a happy surprise. So, he got away with anything he wanted. I was pretty sure he could show up with two new boyfriends and the corpse of someone they'd murdered, and Mother would just murmur that the backyard wasn't zoned for graves and Father would lecture him on proper body disposal while coming up with ways to help him with the problem. There would be absolutely nothing resembling censure in their tones.

I'd have felt like Cinderella except that I knew they'd do the same for me. I'd also get the lecture about being more responsible, though. My ex-boyfriend had no idea of his lucky escape.

I listened to the news instead of music as I headed for my grandmother's house. The drive was pretty close to the old song. I had to cross a bridge, and she lived on a thousand-acre lot surrounding a lake. Over the river and through the woods. Heh.

Since there was an old dock on the lake from before she bought the properties, Gran had to allow a strip of unfenced land for public access to the water. She'd quickly let it get overrun with poison ivy, poison sumac, nasty bugs…I wouldn't put it past her to import fire ants and murder hornets. It had been a while since someone had fought their way through all that to the lake. For pretty much everyone, getting there just wasn't worth the trouble. On the rare occasions that someone did manage to make it all that way, she hired them.

For some reason, she viewed it as a test. If they were strong and stubborn enough to slog through all the barriers, she wanted that person working for her. And they always agreed to work for her, because Gran's employment opportunities were in the can't refuse category. Or if they did refuse, they had a nice little plot of land waiting for them, with a subterranean view. The mafia had nothing on my Gran.

For my parents and Bobby, it was a good two-hour drive, one way, to see her. For me it would only be a half-hour because I'd opted to put my practice in a small town.

Not small enough to be considered for that doctor's student loan forgiveness program for underserved areas, of course. Another error my practice startup company made, though I should have checked that too.

Blind trust was no longer in my arsenal.

The town was just far away enough from my parents to prevent casual visits, and my grandmother never visited anyone. Ever. She summoned them if she wanted to talk. The queen did not exit her castle for anyone.

Pride being a deadly sin, being in her vicinity would have made a saint scared.

How'd she manage this status, other than being filthy stinkin' rich?

Gran was a real, honest-to-goodness elf. Tall, slender, beautiful, apparently eternally young. She did something to make herself look old when she had to interact with the rest of the world because they were bound to be a little suspicious of her eventually. For us, she was her gorgeous self.

I wished once again I'd inherited some of her looks, but I at least got the brains. A fair deal, even if it wasn't as good as it could have been. I could've had brains and beauty. The ability to avoid money scams would've been nice.

She had magic powers too. Whenever a baby was born or someone was married, they made the trip to Grandma's house and met her. Gran's invitation to do so left no room for an adult to refuse- and she was generous, well acquainted with using a carrot to lure people in. Once there, she cuddled the infant and told them that they would say nothing about what they saw or heard about her or the house with anyone who wasn't in the family. If they tried to talk about it later, they found they couldn't. Adults didn't get cuddled, just a spit-drying stare and soft order.

It even worked on babies. I'd never been able to gossip about personal things, despite really wanting to tell everyone in kindergarten about my amazing Gran.

I kinda wished I had inherited those powers. It would've made life so much easier. Mom had told me it made her sad, too. She'd hoped Bobby and I would get the family gift.

Instead, she taught us to always be aware of our surroundings and to project confidence to keep the other cousins from picking on us.

The closer we were to human, the more the family looked down on us. It was part of why I kept my friendship with Shyla and Geoff quiet. I didn't want the cousins to discourage the friendship by targeting them or their practice. Not least because I'd retaliate, and then there'd be a feud for Gran to stop.

She could get seriously brutal dealing with internal conflicts like that.

I made the turn down the hidden drive, my car protesting for the first hundred feet—the family all had 4-wheel drives to deal with that section. Steep and rocky, it was a horror during the winter, holding on tight and hoping for the best. When I pulled out of the forest, I raised my brows.

Everyone had shown up. Cars were everywhere. The lawn, the driveway, and even up beside the house. All the extended family, all the cousins. There must've been fifty people here.

My car had barely rolled to a stop when Jane, my grandmother's assistant, ran out of the big front door. She got to my car right as I put it in park, an impressive sprint considering there were a hundred yards between there and the front door. I'd had to park way out. There was nowhere any closer.

"Get in there. You need to get in there now," she urged, breathless. Half of her hair had straggled out of its careful twist, which was strange. She never allowed herself to look this unprofessional, so something must really be wrong for her to look so frazzled.

Given her distress, I opted to jog for the door. I wasn't quite committed enough to run, but definitely did more than my usual walk. Through the front window, looking into the big formal living room, I caught sight of my parents and Bobby, all looking stunned, seated at the side of the room. A couple of cousins sat next to them, equally gobsmacked. Then Cody and William, the largest of my cousins, reached out the front door, grabbed my arms, and hustled me forward, my feet barely touching the floor, through the entry and into the living room. They kept me moving straight over to where Grandma sat in her big leather chair. Her throne, we said when she was definitely out of earshot.

Oh, there were going to be words later about being manhandled, even if they'd done it because Gran had ordered them to. Especially since they didn't let me go once we arrived in front of Gran.

Some might've called the piece of furniture a chair, sure but I'd always thought of it as a throne—old, and large, made of heavy dark wood. Elaborate carving decorated the arms and legs, some of it with inlay. Mother of pearl, I guessed, but I'd never been close enough to really look at it. Getting that close required permission from the lady herself, and I didn't like being the center of her attention for that long of a time.

I'd have been panicking if I hadn't been pissed at my cousins for manhandling me. Each of them was twice my weight and worked out. Everyone knew I was in good shape. Wild Me really wanted to twist free but waiting seemed a better idea until I knew what the crap was going on.

Gran looked…unhappy. Not angry though, thank providence.

"Marya Irina. I wish you had come earlier." Her voice was crisp as a green apple and almost as sour. I really wished she'd call me Rina but had never quite dared to tell her so. Everyone else called me that, from the time I was a baby.

Mom said Marya was an unlucky name. My aunt Edith's first name was Marya, too. I had no idea why they named a girl an unlucky name every generation. Tradition or some crap.

She reached over to the dainty end table next to the throne and picked up a small knife.

Uh-oh. Knives in Gran's hands were never good. My heart tried to pound right out of my chest.

Suddenly, the hands holding my upper arms became a lot scarier. I peeked up. Cody looked stern but William had a sick expression. Something was very wrong.

Nice to know they were still holding me in place, though. Wild Me was strongly suggesting we get the hell out of here.

It looked like the blade was made of flint. Not that that made it any less dangerous, because it still looked sharp enough to carve a piece out of me. I'd never seen it before. But the way she handled the thing it was something either precious or irreplaceable, potentially both. I jumped when she cut her arm, the knife leaving a line of red behind it. Gran didn't even flinch, as if she didn't feel the pain. Maybe she really was made of ice.

In the time it took me to almost relax now that she wasn't coming at me with the knife, Gran swiped her hand across the blood and touched the middle of my forehead.

Oh, my goodness, gross. Did she have any idea how many diseases were bloodborne?

"Gran!" I protested indignantly.

"Sealed twice in blood. For better or for worse, the vessel is primed." Gran's voice was funny. Low and more melodic than usual, it was almost like a chant. Her eyes were literally glowing, a pale blue light shining from her irises, like a bad special effect. A cold chill ran down my spine. This wasn't good. I wiggled, trying to see if I had any room to break free, but they had an iron grip. I wasn't going anywhere.

"For this, you were named, Marya Irina." Her voice went back to normal and oh. Mm-hmm. Yeah. There was the haughty Gran. "Had you arrived earlier, there would have been time for explanation. Release her."

Their hands left my arms as if I were suddenly red hot. I nearly stumbled backward.

To cover my misstep, I turned and searched for my family. Mother was shaking and looked confused and afraid. Father seemed upset, and a cousin was holding his shoulder, obviously keeping him from rising. Bobby had a strange expression—scared and worried, yes. But also, a streak of annoyance. He wasn't the center of attention, and he never liked that.

I hoped he didn't start acting up. Whatever this was, it didn't look good, and Gran got physical about discipline. A worried feeling grew in my gut. I didn't want Bobby on the receiving end of that.

"Gran, what's going on? Why is everyone here?" I reached up toward my forehead, maybe to wipe the blood off, maybe just to see if it would help me figure out what the hell was going on.

Pain hit me like a lightning bolt. I staggered, and Cody steadied me, a light grip on my shoulder and arm, in contrast to how he'd held me before.

The agony yanked me in a thousand different directions, and I felt as if I were being torn into a million pieces. Screaming, what a good idea! I could only hear my own voice echoing in my ears, no sound of anything else like I was in a void.

My eyes closed in the agony, so I hung in darkness and silence. I couldn't even feel the hands on my shoulder and arm, although there was some vague sense that something was touching me.

The pain and darkness went on and on and on. And on, geez.

Toward the end, everything that was me was curled up in a ball really wishing that I hadn't answered Gran's summons. Next time, they'd have to catch me. I was moving to California and changing my phone number. Maybe farther. Maybe I'd forget my debt and live on an island. I liked to fish. I could live off of coconut milk and—

The pain stopped as suddenly as it began, and I could breathe again. I relished the sensation, reveling in being free of pain for a moment.