The District

“Truce.” He dropped her hand and held up his own.

“So you’re done with the well-aimed barbs?”

Truth was, he’d forgiven her a while back when he’d been on his leave of absence and was able to think clearly about the situation. It helped that no book had come out, and he hadn’t heard anything linking her to Lopez.

And the barbs? Self-preservation against her charms. Just because he’d forgiven her didn’t mean they should resume their engagement. She’d kept things from him, and he didn’t like secrets—had grown up with too many of them.

“No barbs, well-aimed or otherwise.” He pushed the rest of his drink aside and tore into a roll. The tension he’d been holding in his shoulders all day had slipped away. She’d been right about that, too—get everything out in the open.

They had a job to do.

Their food arrived and between bites, they discussed her cases and his task force in South America.

If someone had told him two years ago that he’d be sitting across the table from Christina laughing and sharing stories, he never would’ve believed it. The time off had done him good. Talking with his brothers had done him good.

As he signed the credit card receipt, Christina pinged his glass of scotch, sending ripples through the amber liquid. “Are you leaving this? By my calculations, that’s about eight bucks sitting in that glass, eight bucks the Bureau isn’t paying for.”

“I’m good. Do you want the rest?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Only if you toss it in with some sweet liqueurs and mixers and stick a colorful umbrella in it.”

“Uh, no.” He folded the receipt and stuck it in his pocket. “Are you ready?”

“Kindred Spirits is around the corner.” She picked up her phone and tipped it back and forth. “Open until midnight on Friday night.”

“Let’s go inhale some incense.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and steered her out of the crowded restaurant.

As they passed their car on the street, Eric fed a few more quarters into the meter. “You don’t want to stick the Bureau with a parking ticket.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you really think they’d pay for my parking ticket?”

“Even more reason not to get one.” He slipped another quarter into the slot.

They turned the corner and he dipped his head against the sharp wind that whipped around the building. Even during the summer, the San Francisco Bay kept the city cool. “Is it on this block or the next one?”

Holding up her phone, she answered, “It’s actually in an alley off this street.”

They walked about halfway down the sidewalk, and Christina jerked her thumb to the right. “Down here.”

The alley dropped two steps and the ground beneath their feet changed to cobblestones. Music wafted or blared from the storefronts, depending on the wares inside. A wooden sign with Kindred Spirits printed in red along with a bubbling cauldron creaked in front of one of the stores.

He tugged on a wayward lock of Christina’s long hair. “That’s our store.”

“Cute logo.” She tapped the edge of the sign as they ducked into the store.

The top of his head brushed a tassel of bells hanging from the doorway and their light tinkle announced their arrival.

Soft New Age music played in the background and Eric’s nose twitched at the smell of sandalwood incense. He sniffed. “Told you so.”

“Smells nice.”

A woman emerged from the back of the store, throwing one impossibly long gray braid over her shoulder. “Welcome, kindred spirits. Can I help you with something, or are you here to browse?”

Eric pressed his twitching lips into a hard line. “We’re actually here to ask you a couple of questions about a former employee, Nora Sterling. We’re with the FBI. I’m Agent Brody, and this is Agent Sandoval.”

Shaking her head, the woman placed her hands together as if in prayer. She mumbled a few words between barely moving lips.

He took a quick glance at Christina, but she refused to meet his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“A very sad situation.” The woman lowered her hands. “But the police already came in here asking questions.”

“We’re not the police.” Christina took a few steps through the crowded store toward the woman and thrust out her hand. “And you are?”

“Libby Rivers. I’m the owner of the...” She had taken Christina’s hand and then jerked, almost flinging Christina’s hand away.

Christina took a step back. “A-are you okay?”

“I’m sorry. A little static electricity.” She smoothed her hand along the length of her braid. “As I was saying, I’m the owner of the store and Nora worked for me.”

Eric drew his brows together. Christina was staring at the woman, rubbing her palm against the thigh of her jeans.

“I’d shake your hand, too, but I don’t want to shock you.” He plucked a green marble from a glass bowl and rolled it in his palm. “Can you tell us anything about Nora? Did she have visitors to the store? Complain about anyone stalking her? Have any unusual interactions with a customer?”

Libby flicked her fingers. “The police already asked me all of that.”

“It’s different talking to someone in person and reading someone else’s notes.”

“What do you really want, Agent Brody?”

He blinked. Were his questioning skills that bad? He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out the piece of notepaper with the symbol. He snapped it open and turned it toward Libby. “What does this mean?”

Libby’s faded blue eyes flickered. “Where did you see that?”

“Can’t tell you that, Libby.” He waved the paper under her nose. “What does it mean?”

She snatched it from his hand and pressed it against her chest, right above her heart. “It’s the symbol of a coven, Agent Brody.”

He folded his arms. “A coven? You mean like a coven of witches?”

“There’s a war going on, Agent Brody, a war against this coven.”

Then she dropped the paper and her hand shot out, and she grabbed Christina’s wrist, pulling her closer. “And that includes you, Agent Sandoval.”

Chapter Five

Libby’s cool blue eyes burned into Christina’s face. The clawlike fingers dug into her flesh.

Eric shifted beside her, sucking in his breath, automatically reaching for his weapon.

Christina stumbled back a step and wrenched her arm away from Libby’s grip. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry.” Libby coiled her braid around one hand. “Did I frighten you? That’s good. You should be frightened.”

Eric squared his shoulders and stepped between them. “Are you threatening her?”

“Me?” Libby backed up and bent over, sweeping the paper with the symbol from the floor as her long braid fell over one shoulder. “I’m not the one your partner has to look out for, Agent Brody.”

“Who, then? Why should I be afraid of a war on this coven, and what exactly do you mean by a war?”

Libby clicked her tongue. “You’re one of those who denies her powers. Stuffs them away. Ignores them. But you’re one of us, Agent Sandoval.”

“Did you just call me a witch?” Christina tried for a light tone, but Libby didn’t crack a smile. How did the woman know about her special powers? That handshake—something had passed between them.

“Whether you belong to this coven,” she said, tapping the symbol, “or another, you’re still a witch.”

“Okay, maybe there’s a little ESP going on here, someone with special gifts sensing it in someone else, but I’m no witch and I certainly didn’t join any coven.” She pointed to the piece of paper Libby had placed on the counter. “This one or any other.”

“You don’t join a coven, my dear. You belong.” Libby turned to Eric. “Nora did. She belonged to this coven.”

Eric whistled. “Did she, umm, practice witchcraft?”

“She did.” Libby’s gaze trailed to Christina. “There are some who embrace their powers.”

Christina dug her high heels into the floor. “Do you have any proof that Nora was murdered because she belonged to this coven?”

“Tell me. Did you find the sign of this coven on Nora?” Libby reached into a drawer and pulled out three incense sticks. “Or someone else?”

Eric shot her a look and cleared his throat. “We can’t tell you that, Libby.”

She nodded. “Someone else. So now you have two victims who are tied to this coven. Are you going to tell me that the coven isn’t the common denominator here?”

The bells over the door shivered and they all jerked their heads up. A tall man, dressed all in black with a black fedora, filled the doorway and for a second Christina had an urge to flee.

Libby folded the sheet of paper with the symbol and slid it toward Eric. “Hello, Nigel. More patchouli oil?”

“It’s a little more serious than that, Libby. I need a new deck of cards.”

Christina weaved her fingers through Eric’s and tightened her hold.

“I knew that was coming.” She waved her hand over Christina and Eric as if sprinkling fairy dust...or casting a spell. “This is Agent Brody and Agent Sandoval with the FBI. They’re looking into Nora’s murder.”

Nigel tipped back his hat. “Sick bastard. Nora was a sweet girl.”

Eric’s frame tensed. “You knew her?”

“From the store.” He held up a crooked finger. “Brody. Are you related to the SFPD homicide detective?”

Eric clenched his jaw so tightly Christina was afraid it would snap.

“He’s my brother.”

“Which one of you was kidnapped?”

Libby expelled a breath and it turned into a hiss.

“What do you know about that?” Eric shook off her hand and clenched his into a fist.

“Easy, boy. I’m a native. I know the city’s history, lore and legends better than most. Who could forget Joseph Brody’s story? Son kidnapped in the middle of a serial killer investigation? It was all a sensation.” He tapped his head. “I don’t forget anything that happened in this city.”

Libby rapped a deck of cards on the counter. “Your tarot cards, Nigel.”

“Tarot cards?” Christina held out her hand. “Can I see them?”

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