
# Inner Flame

The Fire Within

by Kay Springsteen and Kim Bowman

Published by esKape Press

www.eskapepress.com

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2015 Kay Springsteen and Kim Bowman

ISBN-10: 1940695538

ISBN-13: 9781940695532

Cover Art Designed by For the Muse Design

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are the property of their respective owners and are used for reference only and not an implied endorsement.

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Other Titles by the Authors

Kay Springsteen and Kim Bowman

A Lot Like A Lady

Something Like A Lady

Kay Springsteen

Heartsight

Camp Wedding

Heartsent

Operation: Christmas Hearts

Heartfelt

The Toymaker

Teach Me Under the Mistletoe

Lifeline Echoes

Elusive Echoes

Abiding Echoes

Kim Bowman

The Duke of Christmas Past

Ghosts in the Graveyard

Dedication

Thank you to my Lord and Savior for always walking with me and for carrying me when I can't walk.

~Kay Springsteen

To readers: this one's for you!

~Kim Bowman

# Chapter One

The evil hiss of tires on wet pavement had become so much white noise. How long had they been driving? How far had they come? Too far... and not far enough.

"I can't believe she's gone." Seraphina Dobson kept her trembling voice low so she didn't wake her sleeping sister. Jazzel had been through enough. The little girl had cried for hours, her gut-wrenching sobs tearing Sera's heart to shreds. Even now, Jazz's little cheeks were tear-streaked and blotchy. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her brindle and white pit bull as if she'd lose him too if she let go.

Sera reached over the seat and adjusted the blanket Jazz had kicked off. The dog leveled a knowing gaze on Sera that sent a sudden quiver up her spine. She settled back in her seat with a shudder.

Connor took one hand off the steering wheel and touched her on the wrist. Flicking his gaze in her direction, he laced their fingers together and gave a quick squeeze. "Your mother was a wonderful woman."

Pay attention to the road! Sera swallowed her words and forced a smile before turning to stare out the window at the dreary, rain-soaked fields. Connor had hated her mother. Muriel Allwood had made no secret of the fact that she didn't care much for Connor either.

The scenery passed by in a blur. Whether from the speed Connor was driving or the tears threatening to burst from her eyes, Sera couldn't be sure. Had it really been a year since she'd seen her mother? Jazz? Probably closer to two since she'd last seen Hank. How differently she might have done things if she'd known the last time she'd seen her mother was going to be the last time.

She stole a sideways glance at Connor. God, he was handsome. If she was being honest, she wasn't sure she would change things. She loved Connor. Why hadn't her mother been able to see that? Sure Sera regretted not having the wedding of her dreams, not having her family and friends there to watch her and Connor exchange vows. But she didn't regret eloping with him.

She just hadn't expected her mother to disown her over it.

Now Muriel was gone. How did a healthy forty-five-year-old woman drop dead of a heart attack? Thank God Jazz had been at preschool instead of home when their mother had died. The trauma that would have caused was unthinkable. Bad enough she'd been taken to school for the day, expecting her mother to pick her up as usual, only to never see her again. Now poor Jazz was an orphan — a heartsick orphan. Sera wasn't sure what that made her. What did people call an adult child whose mother had died?

"I still can't believe Hank didn't come to your mother's funeral." Connor's voice broke into her thoughts. "That brother of yours has always been a selfish ass."

The mongrel gave a yelp that fell somewhere between a growl and a howl and lunged up against the back of her seat, licking Sera's face and whining.

Sera pushed the dog's face away. The taste of rotten meat lingered on her lips. "Gross! What the hell have you been eating?" He dove for her face again, licking and pawing. Sera smacked his nose and shoved him toward the back seat. "Stop it. Lay down. Ugh! Unruly mutt."

"He's not a mutt." Jazzel's voice was heavy with sleep. "He's Hank."

Despite her sadness, Sera chuckled. "Hey, Jazz. Hank, huh? He sure isn't any better behaved."

The dog let out a grunt that sounded a lot like "bitch."

Sera shivered. She didn't dislike dogs, usually got along well with animals, in fact. There was just something about this one...

Connor reached forward and flipped the heater a notch higher. Soon warmth blanketed Sera's feet and moved upward, making her eyelids heavy.

~~~~

Sera sucked in a deep breath and stretched as she pushed her eyes open and tried to make sense of where she was. Soft leather beneath her cheek, the dome light overhead. Right. The car. But they were stopped and the engine was no longer running.

Peering through the side window into the darkness, she could just make out a few shapes. A rake, a lawn mower. Gardening tools. The garage? We're home? Already? She tried to mentally pinpoint the last landmark she'd seen and couldn't. Judging from her stiff muscles, she'd been out of it for a while. How unusual. She'd never been prone to falling asleep on long rides before. She rubbed her eyes and stretched.

"Welcome back to the living." Connor opened his door.

"I-I don't know what came over me," murmured Sera.

Connor stood and the world seemed to rock from side-to-side.

"You're tired. It's understandable after all you've been through." He pushed the back of the seat forward to rest on the steering wheel and leaned inside. "Hey, there, Jazzel, time to wake up and go inside."

Hank growled softly.

"Enough of that, dog." Connor stared hard into the back seat, no doubt wondering how soon he could call animal control to come take the dog away. With a snarl of his own, he reached for Jazz.

The growl got louder as the dog stood on the seat between Connor and Jazz. A narrow ridge of fur spiked upright from the back of his head to the base of his tail.

"Sera." Connor sent her a long-suffering look. "This is unacceptable."

He was right, of course, but Sera couldn't seem to shake off her lethargy. She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes and rubbed hard. Then she blinked, and some of the fuzziness cleared. Jazz stirred and gazed up at her.

"Time to get out, Jazzie," said Sera, slurring the words. Why did her tongue feel so thick?

Jazz glanced at Connor and shrunk into the seat. "I want to get out your side," she declared, snapping her eyes to Sera.

Throwing his hands up in disgust, Connor rolled his eyes and backed out of the car. Hank's tail wagged as he glanced over his shoulder at Sera. Almost as if declaring a win.

Which was ridiculous, of course.

She sighed and opened her door. The world tilted some more as she stood and pushed her seat forward. "Come on, then." She offered a reassuring smile. More than anything, Jazz needed to feel safe. She didn't know Connor very well, so it made sense she would be shy of him.

As her baby sister clambered out the door, Hank followed on her heels, giving Sera's hand a quick lick in passing.

Her feet dragged like cinder blocks as Sera stumbled across the garage floor. As she drew closer to the door inside, her step picked up. Finally, she was coming more fully awake. If she didn't know better, she'd swear she'd been drugged. But of course that was a stupid notion. No one did shit like that in real life. Besides, who would have done it? The waitress at the diner where they'd had lunch? The one she'd barely touched?

She turned the handle and pushed the door open then stepped back so Jazz could go through.

"Oh, no!" snarled Connor from behind them. "That fleabag stays out here in the garage."

"No!" shouted Jazz, stomping her foot. She stood on the threshold, hands on her hips and shot a molten glare at Connor. "Hank has to come inside."

"Now, look here." Connor's knuckles whitened around the large black suitcase filled with the essentials Jazz had brought with her. "Dogs don't belong in houses with people. They're—" He curled his lip as he glanced at Hank. "They're animals. Filthy, flea-bitten animals."

Hank bared his teeth and snarled. His ears lay flat against the back of his head, and once again he positioned himself between Connor and Jazz.

"If he doesn't come inside, then I won't either." Jazz stepped back into the garage. "I'm not leaving him out here." Her crystal blue eyes held sparks of defiance that reminded Sera of their mother when she dug in her heels. A confrontation would not end well for any of them.

"Seraphina," murmured Connor in his no-nonsense voice.

Hank's snarl became louder, moving from warning to aggression.

No, a confrontation would end incredibly badly, especially if the damn dog ended up biting Connor.

"I'm sorry, Jazzie, but not tonight," said Sera. She wiggled her fingers at the suitcase in her husband's hand. When he settled it in her grasp, she steered Jazz into the house, blocking the dog. "Connor will make sure he's nice and comfortable out here."

"No..." The distressed wail filled the small space. "Please let him stay."

The dog made a strangled noise that sounded like a human curse.

More heart-wrenching sobs rose, and tears cascaded over Jazz's cheeks as Sera ushered her farther inside and pushed the door closed with her foot. "He's Hank. He's all I have."

The suitcase slipped from Sera's grasp and landed with a thud, and she dropped to her knees, pulling her sister into her arms. "That's not true, Jazzel Dazzle. You have me. You'll always have me." She cradled Jazz against her, not caring that her silk blouse was already soaked through. "You'll always have me and Connor. We'll take care of you forever."

She tried to draw back so she could look Jazz in the eye, but the little girl was having none of it. She averted her gaze to the right and held herself rigid, refusing to turn back.

She's just tired. We'll work it out in the morning. Sighing, Sera stood and captured one of Jazz's hands. "Come along. I'll show you to your room."

Taking tentative tense steps, Jazz strained to look over her shoulder as Sera guided her through the kitchen and up the stairs. The garage door slammed, heralding Connor's arrival into the house. No clickety-clack of dog nails followed, so he must have been able to secure Hank.

Jazz must have figured it out finally. Shoulders slumped, she trudged up the stairs and allowed herself to be led into the guest bedroom.

"I know this is a little generic, but the bed's nice and soft, and the covers are warm. We can go out this weekend and get some things you like to decorate in here," suggested Sera. "We'll fix it up just the way you like it. It'll be fun."

"I guess." Jazz turned those luminous crystal eyes on her. The hurt and accusation in them shredded Sera's heart all over again. "Mama said I must behave. But it's not fair Hank has to sleep outside." She sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed. Goodness, that monster bed would swallow her whole. They'd have to do something about getting a smaller bed, maybe something fit for a princess.

"It's been a long day. Let's get you ready for bed." Sera pulled back the heavy floral quilt. "I'll make you a sandwich, and we can put a DVD in the player over there, and you can eat up here for tonight. Won't that be fun?"

"It would be more fun if Hank could stay," mumbled Jazz as she kicked off her shiny pink athletic shoes.

Ignoring the little girl's plea, Sera smiled and opened the door. "I'll be back in a minute."

"I'm not hungry," said Jazz, shaking her head. "I just want to go to bed

now, please."

Sera sighed. Jazz had been going hard for the last couple of days. Surely missing a meal one time wouldn't hurt anything. Tomorrow... I'll make sure she starts eating right tomorrow. "Okay, sweetie. Do you need help?"

"I just need to brush my teeth and..." Jazz lifted one shoulder and let it fall.

"Of course." Sera crossed the room. "You have your own bathroom right through this door." She reached inside and flicked up the switch. "My room is right next door to yours, and you just come and find me if you need anything else."

"I will." Jazz didn't move, apparently waiting for Sera to leave.

She stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. I can do this. I can. She's my little sister. I have to take care of her now. God knows the real Hank can't be counted on. She tapped the door once and walked back downstairs in search of her husband.

Connor was in his den with two martini glasses in hand. She hated martinis but somehow he'd gotten the notion they were her favorite drink, and she'd never felt comfortable correcting him. But ugh... they were doubles and each had two nasty green olives. He always insisted she eat the damn things for good luck, and the only thing she hated more than the martinis were the olives. But he'd convinced himself that the aphrodisiac quality in the olives would help them conceive the child he wanted so desperately.

"Did you get Hank all squared away?" she asked.

"Yes. Finally." Connor grimaced. "Though I wanted to just boot his ass out onto the street."

Sera lifted her head sharply. "But you didn't, right?"

Sharp reptilian-cold eyes raked her. "No. Darling. I did not. Despite what you seem to think of me, I do have a heart."

She accepted the martini he held out. "Oh, Connor, I know you have a heart. You could have let Jazz go to foster care, but you're letting her come live with us."

A smile painted itself across his lips. "Of course she had to come and live with us. And she'll make the perfect big sister when we have our own child."

Unease slithered along Sera's nerves and her stomach seemed to jump and flop. Part of her had hoped he might put baby-making efforts on hold for a little while.

He clinked his glass against hers. "Drink up."

Apparently waiting for a family wouldn't go on his to-do list.

She sipped and wrinkled her nose at the strong taste but quickly covered her revulsion by lifting the glass to her lips again, praying he wouldn't decide she needed a refill once she finished with it. As an added precaution, she set the glass far off to the side when she'd drained it.

"Come on, now..." he chided as he retrieved it and handed it back. "Don't forget our little feel-goods here. You know what they say about the power in the olives.

"Honestly, Connor, I'm really tired..."

Her words were lost as he pressed his lips over hers in a masterful kiss. When he pushed his tongue inside, something round and soft came with it and she realized he'd taken one of her olives into his mouth and transferred it to hers.

He traced her lips then dragged kisses along her jaw. One hand pressed into the small of her back as he molded himself against her. His other hand toyed with the hem of her blouse. She swallowed the olive whole, unable to stomach chewing the damn thing.

Warmth exploded in her belly and spread outward as his hand moved upward, grazing her ribs as he located her breast and squeezed.

"I..." She sighed as he lifted her in his arms and strode to the stairway, obviously on the way to their bedroom. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing... the idea of a baby. It would give Jazz someone to focus on...

The bed seemed to embrace her as Connor laid her across it. That peculiar lethargy took over and she didn't seem inclined to move as he undressed her and smiled.

"Beautiful..." he murmured, stepping back and staring down at her with a smile. "Just beautiful. And all mine." His hands tore feverishly at the buttons on his dress shirt. Almost before she knew it, he was as naked as she and joining her on the bed. With a guttural moan, he settled himself on top of her and began kissing her neck insistently, nipping and biting as he pushed her legs apart.

She wanted to protest at his abruptness but the words were lost in the effort it took to form the thought. Groaning, he claimed physically what he'd just declared with his mouth.

"Mine, all mine..." Connor's words echoed in her head. Pressure built, and heat flashed through her, and a moan burst from her throat.

# Chapter Two

Icy air whispered across her body, jerking Sera from deep slumber. She lay naked in her bed on top of the covers. Beside her, Connor's even breaths told her he'd fallen into one of his typical deep sleeps. Even if she'd wanted to awaken him — and she didn't — she'd never be able to. It was as if making love to her took such effort on his part that he needed to rejuvenate somehow.

The clock on the nightstand read 10:12, so she hadn't really been asleep all that long.

She stood and grabbed her robe from the settee at the foot of the bed. No sense in salvaging her clothing. She'd heard the tears as Connor had relieved her of it. Pity... she'd really liked that simple white, silk blouse. Connor had liked it too. She smiled. It was only the third, no the fourth one he'd destroyed. And no doubt he'd present her with another one in the near future.

Padding to the door, she slipped out of their bedroom and along the hallway to Jazz's room. Soft snores came through the cracked door. Smiling, Sera pushed it open and peeked inside then suppressed a gasp.

Jazz had indeed been nearly swallowed by the big bed, but she wasn't snoring. The snorts and rumbles emerged from the brindle and white dog lying on his back, all four legs sticking in the air like pillars, head lolling off the edge.

Jazz must have rescued him from the garage.

As Sera rubbed the sleep from her eyes and considered what she could do, Hank opened his eyes and focused on her. In one lazy roll, he was upright and blinking at her.

"You can't stay," whispered Sera. "If Connor finds out..."

Hank lowered his chin to his paws and regarded her with sad brown eyes.

"Fine." She shouldn't cave. Should just take the dog and put him back in the garage. But even as the thought built in her mind, she knew she wouldn't. "Come here."

The dog stood and stretched then hopped to the floor and trotted to the door.

"Maybe if I bathe you and make sure you don't have fleas, Connor will change his mind."

Hank stopped short and sent her a doggie glare. He opened his mouth and a God-awful sound emerged, kind of a cross between a howl and a yodel. Sera could have sworn the word "no" was being repeated over and over in the midst of it.

"Shush!" Sera glanced at the bed, but Jazz slept on. Poor kid. She really had been exhausted. She pointed at the dog and with her other hand drew her finger across her throat. "Shut up!"

Silence fell. Well, the mongrel knew that command anyway. Maybe he knew others. She pointed into the hallway and hissed. "Out!"

Sending her a big brown stare, the dog trotted over. As he reached her, he paused and sniffed the air. His lip curled back, showing a row of bright white teeth. Then he walked past her and into the hall.

He was a big thing. She'd never be able to muscle him into the stationery tub in the laundry room, but she could conceivably get him into the bathtub in the main bath down the hall. As they entered what she had once thought of as a sizeable bathroom, the walls instantly seemed to shrink inward. Hank balked in the doorway, but she grabbed him by his leather collar and hauled him in, grabbing the door and shoving it closed before the brute could race back through it.

"Sit." She pointed to the floor.

Hank cocked his head to the side, the motion oddly reminiscent of a shrug. Then he dropped to his haunches.

Then he seemed to smile as he slumped to his belly.

Then he rolled onto his side and squirmed into the plush white bathroom rug. He heaved a sigh and finally lay still.

"Showoff." Sera leaned over the tub and closed the drain then turned on the tap. Water splashed and bubbled into the pink porcelain. The next problem presented itself fairly quickly. What on earth would she wash him with? She had a nice assortment of floral scents and some fruity cherry and strawberry. Her eyes fell on a cream and brown bottle with a picture of a sprig of lavender across the label.

"Perfect. Vanilla lavender. A little bit floral but nice and calming." She turned off the water and tapped the edge of the tub. "Okay, come on. Bath time."

Hank whined and stayed right where he was.

"Oh, come on. I'm trying very hard here to spruce you up so Connor will let you stay."

Almost as though he understood her words, the dog sighed and stood. Before she could maneuver out of the way, he bounded across the tile floor and leaped into the tub, sending a glorious splash of water arcing through the air. Sera dodged to the side. Too late. In seconds, face, hair, and robe were soaked.

"Oh! For the love of—" She grabbed a towel and mopped her face. "I swear you did that on purpose." She unbelted her robe and started to shrug out of it.

Hank whined and threw a paw over his nose, covering his eyes.

Sera froze. Sure, he was just a dog. But he was a weird dog. Did she really want to strip down in front of him? Besides, the robe was wet and she'd only get wetter bathing the damn mongrel anyway. Sighing, she tightened the belt and kneeled in front of the tub.

"First things first, let's get your collar off." She unbuckled the brown leather strap, half surprised when he didn't fight her.

A brass plate across the back of the collar read "Hank."

So, his name really was Hank. Sera had half wondered if Jazz had made that up just trying to get her way. She set the collar on the back of the toilet.

The sweet scent of lavender-laced vanilla rose as she dumped a measure of body wash into her hand. The second she started lathering the dog's fur, he started with the weird yodeling.

"Will you shut up!" She picked up the hand-held shower spray and turned on the water to rinse off the soap. "This room is too small for you to make that noise in here."

Hank shook, sending more droplets to slide down her cheeks and chin. At the rate they were going, she was getting more of a bath than the dog. She picked up the bottle of soap again and poured some more into her palm.

"Okay, buddy, time to do the undercarriage."

Hank shook his head and sat.

"That is not helping," she grumbled. "Stand up so I can get all your nooks and — crannies... down... there."

The yodeling got louder. "No!"

They echoed off the walls and reverberated through Sera's brain.

She rocked backward. "What the hell?" Had she really heard that? She gave a nervous laugh. "For a minute there, you sounded so... human."

"I am human."

The noise came out of the dog's mouth in the weird yodel-howl-growl he'd been doing, but somehow her brain processed it like it was speech.

"I am so... tired." She stood and rinsed off her hand in the sink. "Screw your undercarriage. You can lick your own hairy balls."

Hank sighed. "Thank you."

"You're wel— Ugh! I can't believe I'm talking to a freakin' dog."

Hank's jaw moved, but thankfully the yodeling came out quieter than before. "I've been trying since you picked us up to tell you. I'm Hank."

Being tired was doing weird-assed things to her head. Humming under her breath, she gave the dog one last rinse then released the drain.

"You always do that when you're trying not to think of something."

"And just how would you know that, Mr. Hank?" she muttered under her breath. "Get out so I can dry you off." She picked up one of the fluffy pink guest towels and grimaced. Thank goodness for washing machines.

"Not Mr. Hank. Just Hank." He squirmed into the towel as she rubbed it over his body. "I'm Hank. Your brother."

# Chapter Three

A giggle freed itself from Sera's throat. Had she really just imagined the brindle and white pit bull standing in front of her was talking? She lowered the lid on the commode and sat, trying to get her bearings. "Oh, Sera, you're over-tired, and you're sad, and you've just been under too much stress lately."

"You used to like the band Cheap Trick, and you pretended to have a crush on Robin Zander, but you really liked..." Hank the dog cocked his head to the side, and then his lips pulled upward into a parody of a smile. "Julian Duvall in your science class."

Sera reeled. "No one knew—"

"Ha!" The dog stood and paced to the door, whirled around and came back. "I found it in your diary, which you kept hidden under a loose floorboard beneath your dresser." He shuddered. "You wanted Julian to give you private biology lessons. Really? Duvall? He was such a dork."

Sera leaned forward for a closer look. Hank sat in front of her and stared back.

Was she seeing a glimmer of hope in his eyes? Maybe...

"Oh, my God! I don't believe this." She was actually starting to buy into the imaginary conversation.

"Look, think it through," said Hank. "How else would I know all that shit?"

"Because—" A frown pinched her forehead. Clarity struck like lightning. "Because I know it. I'm imaging you talking and telling me things, and it's all crap I already know."

Relief eased her tension. She wasn't going crazy.

Hank sighed. "Put my collar on, please."

She reached behind her and picked up the collar and leaned forward as the dog extended his head.

"Wait!" Hank pulled back. "Turn it over. My name's upside down."

"How the hell do you—" The leather strap dropped to the floor as Sera's fingers went slack. Her hand trembled as she bent to pick it up again. No way had the damn dog read his name and known it was upside down. No, she'd just noticed it was all. Making sure the name was right-side-up, she buckled the collar around the dog's neck.

"I don't know what's going on. Maybe I'll wake up and find out this is just a dream and you're still out in the garage." She stood.

"Yeah, about that." He angled a look upward. "You really should lock that inner door. People get in through garage doors all the time. But that did work out for me this time."

"Wait, what?" She jerked her hand back from the doorknob. "Are you telling me Jazz didn't go let you in?"

"Hell, no. She's a good kid. She stayed in the room the way you told her to."

"So you're saying you opened the door and came on in."

Hank blinked. "Yes."

"Ah ha! Dogs can't open doors."

"Right." The dog stood and walked across the room. After a minute or so of batting at the round doorknob, a soft click indicated its release, and the door drifted inward. Hank stalked across the threshold. Stunned, Sera followed. Maybe it was a dream. She'd never gotten up out of bed. That had to be it. She'd wake up and find the dog in the garage, the bathroom pristine and dry...

"Jazz has my ring," said Hank, pausing at the bedroom door. "The ruby one Granddad left me. I know she packed it. Ask her for it when she wakes up. Maybe that'll convince you." With his tail curled over his back, he sauntered into the bedroom and jumped lightly onto the bed, turned a couple of times and finally settled at the foot, facing the door.

Numb, Sera stumbled along the hallway, back to her room, to the bed she shared with her husband.

# Chapter Four

A ghostly gray mist seemed to hover mere inches off the ground. A shiver rippled through Sera. Where the hell was she?

"She came through here," said a voice from beside her.

Hank! He'd come home. She turned, ready to blast him for being such an asshat. The space beside her was empty.

"Jazz!" he called, drawing Sera's gaze downward.

A brawny pit bull twisted his head and looked up at her. Brindle stripes stood out against the grayness, but his white markings were lost to the pervasive mist, lending the illusion that he had only half a head.

"What?"

"Jazz went along here, and not long ago. I can smell her trail." The dog's mouth moved and Hank's voice emerged.

Seeking to steady herself, Sera groped for the wall. It was warm and soft under her hand, and it moved in a rhythmic wave, almost as though it were a living, breathing thing. She dropped her hand and recoiled away from the wall.

"What... what is this place?"

Hank snorted. "You don't recognize it?"

Subtle motion beneath the fog captured Sera's eye. A whisper of sound, not quite rustle, not exactly a hiss sent chills creeping along her skin.

Hank growled into the fog.

Peering closer, Sera caught sight of a ropelike shape slithering along the corner of the wall. Revulsion sent a shudder through her.

"Oh, God, it's a snake!" she cried.

"Where?" shouted Hank. But he was already off into the fog. "We can't let it get to Jazzie!"

Jazz! Where was she? Where were they?

"I hate snakes!" she called after him. She tried to follow but her feet felt like they'd taken root. She couldn't chase down a snake. They terrified her. If one was slithering away from her, let it!

A shrill scream came from deeper within the fog, then several sharp barks mixed with Hank's shouts. Sera's feet broke free, and she raced into the mist, following the terrifying sounds.

Green light flashed off to the right, drawing her gaze and her steps. An arch loomed ahead of her... something about it seemed familiar. Where had she seen that before?

A feminine voice rose and fell, soft but commanding.

"Mother?" Sera squinted into the fog, now glowing with the green light. "What the devil are you doing?"

"Shhh..." said Muriel. "This is the tricky part."

In one hand, she held a long metal rod divided by a fork on the distant end, which was pressed tightly against the ground, trapping a giant snake by its neck. The thing was at least twelve feet long and its body writhed against the hold, but it couldn't free its head. Muriel used her free hand to open a wooden box that stood on a dais in front of her. Markings carved into the dark, aged wood looked like letters... but it was not like any kind of letters Sera had ever seen.

Murmuring in a voice so low Sera couldn't make out the words, Muriel waved her free hand through the air, sprinkling some kind of powder on the snake. Abruptly it stopped moving and began to shrink. When it was about a third its original size, Muriel used the hook to scoop it and guide it toward the waiting box.

In a puff, the snake became no more than a stream of dark smoke that the box seemed to inhale. As soon as all the smoke was inside, the lid on the box sprang closed like a trap door. The green light faded.

Another shrill scream echoed through Sera's mind, and she snapped her head in the direction. "Mother, Jazz is in trouble. You have to..."

She glanced back to find herself alone. Mother, snake, box, and dais had disappeared leaving nothing but fog.

"Sera!" called Hank. "Get down here. I can't hold it off any longer. It's got Jazzie."

"Jazz!" Hank was right; they couldn't let that monster hurt her. Sera took off in the direction of his voice.

Monster... Not a snake?

She stumbled as her mind struggled to catch up. Mists swirled around her. Jazz screamed again. Closer this time. Sera slipped to the side. It felt like she was running on a spongy bed of gelatin.

"No!" Jazz cried out.

"Sera!" yelled Hank.

~~~~

With a gasp, Sera awakened. She bolted upright. Had she fallen?

"What? Where are you? I can't—"

Moonlight filtered through white lace curtains and painted patterns of golden white light on the pale blue carpeting

No fog.

No snakes.

Someone shrieked.

Jazz!

A dog barked, followed by gales of little girl laughter.

Sera rolled off the bed, reaching for her robe, but it lay balled up at the foot of the bed, a sodden mess of white chenille.

Quickly, she grabbed the first things she came across in her dresser drawer. As she pulled on a pair of black yoga pants and a pale gray T-shirt, more laughter echoed from the guestroom, calming her nerves enough to stop her hands from shaking. If Jazz was laughing, she probably wasn't in danger. The slippers were soaking wet, but Sera jammed her feet into them anyway and walked across the room as quietly as possible so she wouldn't wake Connor. Maybe now was a good time to have a heart to heart with the little rug rat and try and make sense of all that had happened. Not that she had any idea how a four-year-old would have answers for her.

# Chapter Five

Sera smiled as she reached the door to Jazzel's room. If the high-pitched squeaking from the mattress hadn't given the little girl away, her laughter would have. Jumping on the bed and having a ball. Sera was torn between going in and putting a stop to the shenanigans or letting Jazz play. Of course if Connor heard the ruckus, he'd not be happy in the least. Maybe just one more minute—

"Hank, watch this! I can jump from the bed to the chair!"

Sera tried to yell, "No!" but her heart had lodged in her throat, making speech impossible. She grabbed the handle and swung the door open, her heart beating so fast she thought her head would explode from the pressure.

Jazz screamed and fell to the bed, her pink night gown flaring out like a parachute as she landed. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over her head. Invisible.

The dog stood between the bed and door, hackles raised.

"You bite me and I'll bite you back." Sera stepped into the room and shut the door with a soft click. The dog relaxed, turned in a circled, and laid down on the rug, essentially dismissing her. She rolled her eyes. Still miffed about the bath, no doubt.

Sera put her hands out in front of her like a mummy and grunted. She stomped to the bed. "Who's sleeping in my bed?"

The blanket came to life as Jazz wiggled and giggled.

"Who's. Sleeping. In. My. Bed?" Sera made her voice deep and exaggerated her speech.

The squeals grew louder, the blankets hopped and skipped on the bed.

Sera tackled the squirming child and tickled her through the blankets. "Who's... sleeping... in... my... bed!"

Jazz pulled the blanket off her head. "Me!" Her laughter was infections.

Sera planted wet kisses all over the little girl's face, making her squeal louder.

"Stop! Stop! My laughs are too tired to laugh anymore!"

With a final kiss and hug, Sera quit torturing Jazz. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Aw... can't I watch cartoons?"

"Not tonight. I'll read you a story, though. What would you like for me to read?"

"Llama, Llama!"

"Really? You still like that story?" The last night before Sera left home to be with Connor, Jazz had insisted she read the book over and over until Sera had lost count.

"Pleassssseeee..."

"Ugh. Fine. But only one time. Did you pack it?"

Jazz snuggled deeper into the mattress and put the pillow over her face before pointing toward the night stand. "How about two times?" The girl was a politician already.

Sera leaned over to retrieve the book from the pile. She was a negotiator herself. "I'll read it twice if you tell me why you named the dog Hank?"

Jazz pulled the pillow from her head and said, "'Cuz that's his name." She covered her face back up and wiggled around again.

Sera bit her tongue to keep from snapping. Patience, Sera. She's only four. "Okay... but who said to call the dog Hank?"

"Ugh! He did! And you know what, Ser-Ser? Mama was real mad at Hank. Said he was... It's a bad word and I'm not 'posed to say bad words."

"I think it's okay this one time if you tell me what Mother called Hank."

"She called him a dumbass!" Jazz covered her face with the pillow and squealed.

Sera glanced at the dog on the floor. His ears twitched. "Sounds familiar."

Jazz jumped up on her knees and put her arms around Sera's neck. "Mama threatened to take Hank to the Human 'Ciety, and he peed on her shoe. I told him he was 'posed to do that in the bathroom if he wanted to get a sticker. Why doesn't Hank have to wear clothes? I have to wear clothes."

"Hank's fur is his clothes. Do you know why Mother threatened to take Hank to the Humane Society?"

Jazz nodded so vigorously Sera was sure it would snap off. It nearly toppled her from the bed, and she had to grab the bed post to steady herself.

"You do? How do you know?"

The little girl cast her gaze down, shoulders slumped, her bottom lip jutting out, quivering.

Sera hooked her finger under Jazz's chin and tipped her face up. "It's okay, Jazzel Dazzle, you can tell me."

Eyes wide, the little girl glanced at the dog and back. "I'm not 'posed to listen."

"Curious Georgette," Hank growled.

Sera narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you going to explain to me what she means?"

"It means she's a nosey butt."

"Runs in the family," Sera shot back.

"She reads minds, Sera."

She furrowed her brow. "Reads minds?"

"I listen to people on the inside. Mama said I shouldn't. I promised I wouldn't. But sometimes I can't help it."

I wonder if Jazz can read my thoughts?

"Yep!" Jazz yelled, startling Sera.

Was she saying yes to me?

Jazz groaned and said, "Yes," at the same time that Hank growled, "Yes."

"What number am I thinking about?" Thirteen.

Jazz didn't pause in her rolling around on the bed as she answered, "Thirteen."

"What color am I thinking of?" Orange.

"I don't like orange. I like pink. Think pink!"

Can I read minds? "Why don't you think about a color and I'll guess it."

Jazz jumped up and down on her knees. "Yay! Okay, I'm thinking about the color purple!"

Did Hank just laugh?

"You aren't supposed to tell me what color you're thinking."

"Well, you told me what color you were thinking."

This is so surreal. So freaky.

"Did I do something wrong? Are you mad 'cuz I listened?" Her voice trembled, and tears pooled in her big blue eyes.

The dejection marring Jazz's beautiful face broke Sera's heart. Hank growled, "Damn," and jumped on the bed, planting slobbery kisses on the little girl's chubby cheek.

"No, Jazzy. You didn't do anything wrong at all."

The hair on Hank's back stood on end. He bared his teeth and let out a vicious growl as he made his way to stand at the foot of the bed, his attention settling on the chair to the left of the fireplace.

Jazz burst into tears. "Ma-Ma-Mama is yelling at me. She says listening will get me in trouble."

A chill ran up and down Sera's spine. "Mother is here?" Sera glanced around the room frantically.

"She is. And not happy," Hank answered.

"Hank, can you hear her?" Sera squinted her eyes and concentrated hard on the spot Hank and Jazz seemed to be mesmerized by. She saw nothing, but the temperature in the room had dropped by at least ten degrees.

"No. Only see her." He went back to growling.

I wish I could see her.

"No you don't. She's really mad. She's calling you Sera. She never calls you anything but Seraphina. Am I in big trouble now?" Jazz's sobbing cries became uncontrollable wailing.

Sera hugged her close. "No, baby, you are not in trouble at all."

"Then why is Mama yelling? I'm not 'posed to peek at what people are thinking. She says no one listened to her, but I always listened to her."

"She isn't mad at you, sweetheart. I promise. I asked you to tell me what I was thinking." A sharp jolt of anger shot through Sera. "Tell her, Mother. Tell her everything is fine."

Jazz buried her face against Sera and cried harder.

Hank backed up and stood right in front of them, nearly falling over them. "Shit."

"What is it?"

"She's right at the foot of the bed. She's — holy mother f—"

"Hank!" Sera snapped.

"Serephina." The name seemed to whisper across Sera's skin. It took a moment for her to realize she hadn't imagined it. "Save her, Seraphina."

A light breeze caressed Sera's cheek, almost like fingertips. Gooseflesh spread across her shoulder and down her arms, making her shiver.

Jazz cuddled closer, her face pressed to Sera's chest. Sera stroked her hair with one hand and draped the other protectively around the little girl's shoulder.

"Seraphina."

"Mama doesn't sound mad now. She sounds sad."

Sera would describe her mother's voice as more desperate than sad. But why? How she wished she could see Muriel's face.

"Did you hear that, Ser-Ser?"

"No I didn't, sweetie. What?"

"Mama said don't be afraid to use your gift."

Sera felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach. "Is she still here?"

She took the book and opened it. "Uh huh. She says she can't leave 'til the evil is gone."

Confused, Sera asked, "What evil? What does she mean?"

The only answer she received was a shrug. "Will you read now?"

"Sure, sweetie."

"Two times! You promised."

"I know I did." She kissed the top of Jazz's hair and started reading. Her mind far from the words she tried to make come alive. No four-year-old should understand death, ghosts... evil the way Jazz did. Sera sure as hell didn't.

# Chapter Six

Sera waited a good fifteen minutes after Jazz's breathing became steady. Her little chest rising and falling in an even rhythm that soothed Sera's frayed nerves. Then she gently removed Jazz's arm off her waist and slid to the edge of the bed, setting the book on the night stand. With the tip of her foot, she nudged Hank in the side.

No surprise that the mongrel grunted in protest at having been interrupted from his sleep. He stretched, yawned, and then did no more than lift his head to look at her as if to say, "What?"

She jerked her head in the direction of the door, motioning for him to follow her. He heaved himself up and followed her reluctantly.

Once outside, Sera closed the door as quietly as she could and turned on Hank. "She has quite the imagination, that sister of ours. She sees our dead mother, thinks you are our brother who has been turned into a dog." When the dog just continued to stare with a vacant look in his eyes, she added, "Of course, who am I to judge? I'm standing in the hall talking to a dog."

His ears shot up. "Look, I don't like this any more than you do. What I wouldn't give to go on a date or not have to worry about fleas. And I swear to God if you buy me dry dog food I will pee and crap all over this house and rip your clothes, shoes, and rugs to shreds."

She held up her hands in surrender. "I'm still processing the fact that you're my, ahem, brother living as a dog. One thing at a time."

"I meant what I said about the Kibble."

Part of her was tempted to serve him the worst smelling dog food she could find just to be annoying. A thought crossed her mind. "Can you read minds like Jazz can?"

He gave a doggie grunt and said, "No, I wish."

"Okay, can I read minds?"

Silence.

Becoming more frustrated by the minute, she jerked her arms upward in an I-give-up gesture then sank to the floor, holding her head in her hands. "What aren't you telling me? I'm really done with this dance we're doing. I heard Mother — someone — something in there telling me to 'protect her,' whatever the hell that means."

"You heard Mother?"

She shrugged. "I can't be sure. I'm not exactly the most reliable person at the moment." Unspoken was that she was entertaining the notion that her brother was a dog and her sister saw and heard ghosts and read minds. "But I think I did, yeah. She said something about evil and she used my full name. Seraphina. Mother—"

"Was the only person who ever called you Seraphina."

"Exactly. But if all this is my subconscious's way of dealing with her death, wouldn't I have Mother calling me Seraphina?"

He looked away.

"Well?"

"I can't make you accept something you don't want to. You either believe or you don't."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You might as well be asking me to believe in Santa Claus. I believe in logic. Things I can see, feel, understand... this is all urban legends and fairy tales."

"But what does your gut tell you?"

Her turn to be quiet.

"I'm guessing if you didn't at least a little think all this was possible you wouldn't be standing in the hallway talking to a dog."

He had a point. But she wasn't ready to give in just yet. "Fine. Let's say a small part of me is ready to accept this as true, then why don't I remember having abilities? Being a witch?"

Hank inched over and licked her cheek. "You're not a witch."

She scratched his head. "This would go a lot faster if you would just tell me what you are trying very, very hard not to say."

He plopped down, resting his head on her lap. "You know the worst part about being a dog."

Was he serious? "We're talking about me right now, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm getting there. Scratch right behind my ear. Oh yeah, that's the spot."

"Hank!"

"Sorry. The worst part about being a dog is that you finally realize how short life really is. I've been a dog for almost six months now. That means three and a half years of my life have passed me by."

She let out a loud sigh, praying he hurried this along.

"My biggest fear is that when my punishment is over in two years, I won't be twenty-three but I'll be thirty-five. I often wonder if that isn't going to be my real punishment."

Sympathy assailed her senses. How horrible. Could that happen to him? Could he honestly have his human self restored to find that he'd aged not two years but fourteen? Her brother was fun-loving, kind, generous, full of life. He didn't deserve such a harsh punishment. "What did you do to be turned into a dog?"

"That's a story for another day and time. Let's just say I had to learn things the hard way. I'll explain it to you all the minute I can make sense of it."

She furrowed her brow. "But being turned into a dog is rather extreme."

"No kidding. I figured by the time I was thirty I'd have a wife, couple of kids... now I'll basically be starting all over. It sucks." He sat up. "That's the downside of this gift our family lives with. Every decision you make, everything you do has a dire consequence. I'm living proof."

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Suddenly, she didn't want to know why she didn't remember having special abilities. "D-did I do something bad to get stripped of my abilities?"

Again with the licking. Ugh.

"No. Absolutely not. You don't have any powers because you asked Mother to take them away from you. Begged her, actually."

"What? Why would I do that?"

"With me, Mother explained our... abilities. She... showed me how to control them, how to use them, and most importantly, she instilled in me the need to keep our secret. It was a way of life for me, easy to live with, accept. Plus my abilities were nothing like yours. You had premonitions, saw dead people, talked to people with your mind, read minds... Trust me, playing hide and seek with you was no fun."

She smiled. That much she remembered. Hank always accused her of cheating when they played games. She stiffened as realization dawned on her. No longer was she rejecting what he said as true. In the blink of an eye, it had all become a reality to her. As real as the nose on her face.

"It all came so naturally to you. Me, I could read thoughts sometimes if I concentrated really hard, at times influence people to get what I wanted. Saved myself a few bad grades that way. But I had to rely on the old standards like spells, candles, herbs, tarot cards, crystals if I wanted to truly tap into my powers. You, on the other hand, were a power in and of yourself. You had a real gift. But with that gift—" He paused. "With that gift came the darkness too. You saw not just the goodness in people but the evil, and it terrified you."

Tears streamed down her face. She remembered being terrified of the police officer who patrolled their neighborhood. He'd come to her preschool and talked about how men in blue were their friends. She'd seen nothing but darkness around him, hadn't been able to look at him. Frightened, she'd gone to the teacher and said he was a bad man. The teacher had scolded her, told her it wasn't polite to say bad things about people, and made her stay in at recess. A few weeks later, the police officer had beaten a homeless man to death. During the investigation, it came out that the cop had been abusing his wife and son for years.

"I was six, maybe seven at the time. So you would have been four or five."

She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath. "Dad died."

More dog kisses. Gross.

"You begged him not to go to work. He hugged you and told you everything would be fine. A few hours later—"

"He was dead just like I said he would be." It was as if she'd lost him all over again, the grief was so fresh, the pain so raw. An aneurysm in his brain.

"You were inconsolable. Screamed that no one listened to you. Mother thought she'd have to have you sedated at the funeral. That night, you woke up screaming. You could see Dad and it terrified you. For the first time, you understood that the people you were seeing — had been seeing — were dead. You begged, pleaded with her to make it stop. To make them go away. So she did."

Sera wiped the tears from her face. "That explains why she did what she did when I was a child. But what about later? Why didn't she tell me when I was older? For that matter, why didn't you ever tell me?"

"She swore me to secrecy, Ser. I think she always planned to tell you, but you were so happy. You loved not knowing, not seeing. Believe me, it was driving you insane. You didn't know how to control it — and that was Mother's fault. She never prepared you for it like she did me. I think it just came so naturally to you without her having to teach you anything, was such a part of you, that she didn't realize she was hurting you by not explaining things to you."

"My friend Jenny I played with as a child, was she..."

Even as a dog it wasn't hard for Sera to read his body language before he said, "She was a ghost. She died in a house fire about seventy years before you were born."

Sera was going to be sick. She remembered but didn't, and that only made things more confusing. "When Jazz was born, why didn't she tell me then? Why did she have to die before I found out the truth?"

"You were happy. A great burden comes with the abilities we possess. A burden she wanted to protect you from."

"But it was okay for you to know?" Resentment laced her voice.

"Yeah, it's worked out great for me. Believe me, when I showed up on her doorstep as a dog, she wished to God she'd have bound my powers too."

"Which brings up another question: Why didn't she bind Jazz's?"

"Until Jazz was talking, Mother wasn't even sure she'd have any abilities. You know... since she has a different father. By that time..."

Like a heavy fog, the silence hung between them. Cold and unyielding.

"You better just tell me."

"I think you've heard enough for now. Trust me when I tell you, you're about to get a crash course on the rest."

Irritated, she struggled away from Hank and stood. "And we're back to the riddles." She massaged her temples. "This has all been fun, but if the crazy could leave now and let me get back to my grieving and learning to move on and raise my baby sister, that would be great."

She started down the hall to her and Connor's bedroom.

"Twelve. Twenty-two. Thirteen. Seven."

Sera stopped and turned. "Excuse me?"

"That's the combination for the safe in your husband's office." Hank scratched at the door to Jazz's room.

She rolled her eyes and stomped back to let him in. "My husband doesn't have a safe in his office."

"Yeah, he does. And you're gonna want to see what's inside it." He stepped into the bedroom and nudged the door shut with his nose.

# Chapter Seven

Grief had to be the worst emotion. It was causing Sera's mind to play tricks on her, making her see and believe things that weren't there, weren't real. Anything to help her cope with the loss. That had to be what all of this was. Jazz couldn't cope with losing her mother at such a young age, so the little girl pretended to see her. Sera and Jazz both needed Hank to be there, refused to think about the fact that only something horrible could have kept him from their mother's funeral. So Jazz had named her dog Hank, and Sera was having conversations with the animal.

Which was why she found herself heading to the den at three in the morning in search of a safe that wasn't there.

Sera pushed the door to the study open and cringed when the hinges squeaked. She slipped in and closed the door. Should she turn the lights on or leave them off? Probably better to turn them on. That way if Connor did come searching for her, he wouldn't find her snooping around in the den with a flashlight.

Turning the light on seemed to make the room less uninviting. It was cold. Not like the cold in Jazz's room, but more frigid, frosty. And not the kind of cold that had sent a shiver up and down her spine earlier. This was more a chilled-to-the-bone cold.

She shook the feeling off, deciding it was her imagination running hog wild with her again, and glanced around the room. At first haphazardly, looking but not really seeing or paying attention. A quick once-over, taking in the bookshelf behind the desk to her left and the couch and coffee table to her right. Coat closet in the corner. She smiled as she noticed the picture of her on the desk. Connor loved that picture of her. Everything was as it should be. No safe.

Sera ran her fingers along the wall, loving the feel of the textured wallpaper on her fingertips. How had she never notice that there were no paintings in the room? No pictures on the wall? The room looked out of place compared to the rest of the house, which was full of warmth and invitation. Connor loved light. Loved for all the windows to be open so the sunlight streamed in every morning. This room was dark with thick drapes that covered the windows. It seemed out of place, as if it didn't belong in the rest of their home. Why had she never noticed that before?

Because you're letting your imagination run away with you.

After a quick search of the walls, under the couch, desk, and coffee table to ensure there were no hidden doors, she let out an exasperated sigh. So her mind was playing tricks on her. Had she really expected to find anything? She walked to the closet and opened it. A file cabinet with two drawers, couple of winter jackets, rain coat, and a windbreaker hung on the bar. On the floor sat a pair of boots and an umbrella. Ordinary, typical closet.

She let out a sigh and shut the door. It wasn't like she really expected to find a safe in the first place. Shoulders slumped, she headed for the door. Maybe a good night's sleep would bring her to her senses.

For just a second, less than a heartbeat, she saw a flash of Connor in his sweats walking down the hall toward the den. Her mind rejected what she'd seen. With good reason. But her gut told her Connor was looking for her. She scrambled to the desk and sat down. Carefully, she slid the drawer on the left open and took out a legal pad. She grabbed a pen from the holder and scribbled Hank's name followed by a couple of sentences saying she had bad news. She laid her head on the desk so she could see the door and closed her eyes, keeping her right eye slightly open.

She didn't know whether to be shocked or terrified a few seconds later when the door opened and Connor walked in. His gaze landed on her then quickly shot to the closet door. So she should have taken a closer look in there.

He walked around the desk and leaned down, placing a kiss to her cheek. "Ser, wake up, sweetie."

She yawned and made a show of pretending to stir. "What? Where am I?"

"You're in the den. Is everything all right?" Connor slid the tablet from beneath her head and stared at it.

She rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd write Hank a letter and mail it to his P.O. Box, since he didn't come to the funeral and hasn't returned any of my phone calls. I just couldn't find the words to say..." She let a couple of tears stream down her cheek. Not hard to do since she honestly didn't want to face the fact that her mother was gone.

"I'm so sorry he let you down. I know you need him right now. And I know I haven't been the most supportive, either. I was an ass earlier over the dog." Regret showed in the lines on his face. He meant it.

Sera caressed his cheek. "Apology accepted."

Connor scooped her up in his arms. "That hardly makes up for my actions. I'm supposed to be making your life easier right now. Not throwing a temper tantrum like a spoiled child."

She bit her lip and draped her arms around his neck. "I guess now's the time to tell you Jazz snuck Hank into her room."

He faltered then glanced at her, eyebrows raised. "I should have seen that one coming." He sighed. "I'm outvoted on this one, aren't I?"

"I wish I could tell you different."

He entered their room, pushing the door closed with his foot. Sera kissed his lips tenderly as he set her on the bed. He followed her down, deepening the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, not wanting to break the contact.

"I love you, Sera."

"I love you, too." She gazed into his eyes. Love shined back at her. "This has been rough on you, too. I know it has. And you've handled it like a trooper."

He rolled to his side and took her in his arms. "No, I haven't. I've been lost as to how to help you, and I handled it badly. But that stops now. Jazz is part of our family. This is where she belongs. And I will make it my life's mission to ensure she is happy second only to her sister."

Warmth surrounded her heart, and she turned to face him. "Making Jazz happy is the best gift you could ever give me. I know you didn't sign on for this—"

He put his finger to her lips. "Stop it. Whatever happens to you happens to me. I'm in this. You'd do the same for me."

She would do the same for him. He was her life. Her soul mate.

Please let Hank be wrong about him. I can't stand to lose Connor too.

# Chapter Eight

As soon as she awoke, she pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and returned to the den. It was no longer a matter of proving she was just imagining all of the crazy to escape the grief. She had to prove to herself that Connor was the man she knew he was. That he was good and kind and sweet and loved her with all his heart.

Goose bumps raced across her arms at the thought of how tenderly he'd kissed the sensitive spot at the base of her neck that morning before leaving for work. He'd told her to get some rest. That he'd let the dog out and check on Jazz before he left.

A smile on her lips and in her heart, she entered the den. One thing was for sure. The room still seemed out of place and just as uninviting in the light of day.

She'd worry about that another time. Right now she had to look more closely in the closet to ensure there was no safe. Cautiously, she opened the door. Looked the same as it had the previous night. Nothing out of the ordinary. She stepped inside and almost fell down. The floor in the closet seemed spongy, unstable. She braced herself in the doorway so she wouldn't fall and bounced up and down on the closet floor with her right foot. Definitely not a real floor. She retrieved the letter opener from Connor's desk then sat down in front of the closet and used the letter opener as a pry bar to try and lift the board. It popped out with little effort. As did the next four.

Revealing a small square black safe.

Sera wanted to puke. She squeezed her eyes shut several times and opened them, willing the thing to disappear. It didn't work.

Fingers trembling, Sera tried the combination Hank had given her. Twelve. Twenty-two. Thirteen. Seven. The safe unlocked with a click, and she opened the door.

She crumbled to the floor sobbing. Her mind reeled, realization descended on her like an avalanche, hard and fast, taking her breath away before her emotions could catch up. She knew that box. The Soul Keeper's Box. She'd heard the story over and over again so many times as a child that she knew it by heart. Mother never let them forget the fairy tale about the Soul Keeper. And she never let the box out of her sight. So if Connor had it...

She grabbed the box and moved toward the door before she'd even fully accepted what was happening. She had to protect Jazz and Hank.

Frantic and willing herself to get to the bedroom as fast as she could, Sera ran down the hall, barely stopping as she flung open the door. Once inside, her heart hit the floor. The bed was empty.

"Jazz?"

Eerie silence was the only reply.

For a second, her heart stopped, seeming to halt time with it. She was a child again, settling down for bed. Her mother tucking them in. After kissing Sera and Hank, Muriel sat on the chair between their beds.

"Once upon a time in Never Earth, there was a little boy named—"

"Dehbuck!" Sera and Hank yelled in unison.

Muriel smiled. "That's right. Dehbuck lived on a farm with his parents in the Nether Plain. His mother was a healer."

"And his father was a shoemaker!" Hank supplied.

"Yes. Also a farmer. They were very poor. Dehbuck spent his days fishing and playing in the woods close by his home."

Sera pulled the cover up to her chin, held it tight. "But never after dark."

"Never ever after dark. Because that's when the soul seekers lurked about. One day, Dehbuck fell asleep while fishing. He awoke as the sun was falling behind the trees. Frightened and afraid that he wouldn't make it out of the woods before dark, he dropped his fishing pole and ran as hard as he could.

"As he reached the edge of the woods, a kindly looking old man stepped in front of him. He was frail and walked with a cane. Dehbuck feared the old man was lost, so he stopped to see if he needed help. The old man said that was very nice of Dehbuck and offered him a gift for his kindness."

"The Soul Keeper's Box," Hank said.

"It was made from the oldest of woods and said, 'Where evil dwells,' only Dehbuck didn't know that's what it said," Sera added, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper.

"Sadly, Dehbuck did not know that's what the box said. He thought it would make a nice gift for his mother. She needed a place to keep her medicines. So he hurried home to give it to her. As he ran into the clearing by their house, he met his father, who was coming to look for him. He ruffled Dehbuck's hair and told him supper was ready. As they walked, Dehbuck told his father of the kind man and the box.

Dehbuck's mother yelled and waved at them from the porch to hurry. Father asked what was in the box, but Dehbuck didn't know. He hadn't looked as he'd planned to give the box to his mother. Curious, Father took the box and lifted the lid at the same time that Dehbuck's mother screamed—"

"No!" Sera and Hank yelled.

"But it was too late. The spirit within the box had been released and was consuming Dehbuck's father. His mother came running with a pitchfork and stabbed the spirit over and over until it fled back into the box."

Tears welled in Sera's eyes. "But Dehbuck's father was already dead."

Muriel got up from the chair and sat on Sera's bed, took her in a warm embrace. "Yes, my darling, it was too late for Dehbuck's father. The spirit had taken his soul. Filled with grief, his mother never recovered. And she never let Dehbuck forget how powerful the box was."

"She made him promise to never open it, and then she taught him how to use the rod in case it did open again," Hank said.

"And that, my children, is why we never open the Soul Keeper's Box." Muriel squeezed Sera tight and kissed her cheek several times. Then she did the same with Hank. "Sleep, well, my babies. I love you."

Dread and understanding dawned on Sera as she stared hard at the box. Not a fairy tale at all. Bits and pieces of her childhood fit together. Hank mumbling as Mother made him practice wielding the forked rod. Sera had... her mind went blank. She knew she spent time practicing along with Hank. But for the life of her, she couldn't remember what she'd learned. It wasn't the pitchfork — devil's fork — whatever it was called that Hank had learned. Why couldn't she remember?

She grabbed her chest as a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. It was too late. Sera crumbled to the floor. "Oh, Jazz, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

Her head jerked up, her senses on high alert as she heard the clanking and scratching of toenails on hard wood. Hank! She scrambled to her feet as the dog burst into the room.

"Where is she?" he snapped.

"Where is she? Where were you? You were supposed to protect her."

"Your asshole husband came to take me outside to do my business. When I went out the door, he locked it behind me. I had to find a window that was open to get back in. Where were you?"

The tears that had been threatening to spill let loose. She bent down and hugged the furry animal. "I failed her. She's gone. I don't know what to do. I don't know where she is."

"Yes you do. You know. Don't freak out now. Think, Ser."

"I-I-I can't. I don't—"

"Yes you can. You have to. For Jazzie."

Exasperated and scared beyond her wildest dreams, she stood and paced the room. Hysteria threatened to take hold of her. "No I can't. I don't know how to do any of this shit."

"But you can. You just have to believe. You just have it let it come back. Stop fighting it. If you don't, you won't be able to help her."

Her only answer was to shake her head and sob harder.

"You're not a quitter, Ser. You never were. Don't quit now. Not when Jazz needs us — needs you the most. You just—"

"How did you know the box was in the safe?"

Hank backed away, seeming to notice the box in her hand for the first time. "Jazz asked me why Connor had Mama's box. I asked her where and she told me. I convinced her to keep it a secret from you like hide and seek so you'd finally believe and accept what I was saying."

His words hit her like having hot coals and lava splashed on her. "Why oh why couldn't you just have told me right from the start. If you had just told me, we could have kept all this from happening."

"I am so sorry, Ser. I thought we had a lot more time for you to figure it out. I hate myself right now. If anything happens—"

"Wait a minute. You're a dog."

He let out a growl-sigh. "Yeah. So?"

"So, you find her. Use your doggie senses to find her."

"What?"

"You're. A. Dog. Use your nose to follow her trail."

"Oh shit. Damn. Yeah. I am a dog! Why didn't I think of that?" He started tracking, hurrying down the hall, his nose to the floor.

Sera followed.

Hank stopped at the door leading from the kitchen to the garage, hackles raise, tail straight out. "Open the door slowly."

Sera back pedaled to the bar, set the box on the counter, and grabbed the two largest knives from the butcher block. Then she joined Hank at the door again and took a hold of the doorknob as Hank prepared to pounce. "One. Two. Three!" The door flew open. Hank leaped into the garage, snarling. It was empty except for the cars. Cars. Plural. Connor had not gone to work. Damn. She was such a fool. How could she not have known?

"Where are they?" Sera whispered.

"I don't know. Her scent stops here."

"Now what?"

"You know what. Open your mind and let it come."

Sera took a deep breath, willed her panic away, begged for guidance. Almost immediately, she saw a flash of Jazz. Peaceful. Asleep. And with Connor.

Chest tightening, throat constricting, she glanced up at the door. "They're in the attic."

"Then what are you waiting for? Let's go!" Hank snapped.

She shook her head. "He'll hear us coming. He'll hear the door open and he'll know we're coming."

"Damn. Are there any windows we can get in through?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Honestly, Ser, I don't give a fuck if he knows we're coming. Pull the damn door down. If nothing else, maybe it'll make him come at us, and she'll have a chance to get away."

He was right. She knew it. Sera glanced at the attic door. The stairs leading up resembled a ladder more than a set of steps.

"Can you even go up those stairs?"

"Hell yeah, I can go up them. Now pull the door down and get out of my way."

"What? No—"

"I'm faster. I can get to that bastard before he has a chance to realize what's going on. I'm going up first. Now lower the damn door."

With a final steadying breath, she grabbed the string and pulled the door down as slowly and quietly as she could. Before she unfolded the last part of the steps, Hank bounded up them four at a time, barely making a sound as he went.

Sera scrambled to catch up, mindful of the knives she carried. She tripped as she reached the top, dropping the knives. She cringed as they pinged off the stairs and then clattered to the cement floor. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

A vicious growl drew her attention to Hank. She gasped as he launched himself at Connor, causing him to plummet to the floor. The dog had a death grip on Connor's arm, ferociously shaking his head back and forth as if trying his best to rip the appendage off.

Shocked by the brutal way Hank went after Connor, she yelled, "Stop!"

Hank froze but didn't let go.

Connor turned his head to the side. His gaze locked with hers. His eyes were sad, scared. In her mind, she could hear him begging her, pleading, "Sera. Help me. Please." Connor's lips hadn't moved, but Sera had no doubt his voice was the one she heard. And he wasn't talking about the dog attacking him, either.

Suddenly, the sadness was gone, and Connor's face contorted into what Sera could only imagine evil would look like. He punched Hank in the side of the head hard enough that it should have sent the dog hurtling against the wall. But Hank was relentless, his grip viselike. He held on, whining with every blow Connor landed, refusing to let go.

Find Jazz!

Sera searched around, unseeing. The room seemed to be spinning, making it impossible for her to focus on anything. She wasn't sure she wanted to see. The horrific sound of flesh tearing and bone hitting bone as Hank and Connor continued to fight made her sick to her stomach.

Terror grabbed her when Hank let out a soul-searing yelp and limped sideways.

She was on her feet. "You bastard!"

Everything was happening so fast, Sera didn't have time to think. She still hadn't located Jazz, and now Hank was down. Connor stood, blood pooling from the gashes on his arm. He stalked toward her.

Trapped, she backed away, her hand held out defensively in front of her. "Connor, this isn't you. I love you. You don't want to hurt me. Just tell me where Jazz is."

He zeroed in on her, trapping her. "I thought it was you, you know. I thought you were the one I needed." She moved left to try and get around him, but he was faster. He pinned her to the wall. "Too late I realized my mistake. Of course by that point I'd fallen in love with you." Connor stroked her hair. "Then it dawned on me if we had a child, perhaps..."

Bile rose in her throat as she finally saw Jazz and realized what he left unspoken. The little girl was laid out on an altar. A black cloth draped over her. Candles all around her. Were it not for the dagger laying on her chest, she'd seem peacefully asleep. "You would have sacrificed our child?"

He gave her an I'm guilty shrug. "I know. I know. Nasty business. A necessary evil in order for me to become the Soul Keeper. Immortality comes with its own loopholes, my dear. Better this way, really. I was finding it harder and harder to accept the fact that I'd have to kill you."

Slowly, she shook her head, her mind rejecting what she was hearing. He wasn't serious? "Immortality. Soul Keeper. Do you hear yourself? Are you crazy? You actually believe if you kill Jazz you'll live forev—" Mother. The pieces fell together seamlessly. How had she not seen what was right in front of her?

He tsked and shook his head. "You left me no choice but to use your baby sister as a substitute when you didn't give me a child. Don't worry, love. I'll make it as quick and painless as possible."

The way he talked about Jazz, as if she were nothing more than an inanimate object, a replaceable trinket, had Sera on the brink of vomiting. The cold and callous way he spoke turned her stomach. The monster standing in front of her was nothing at all like the Connor she knew and loved. "You won't kill Jazz. You love me. I know you do."

"I do. More than I ever thought possible. If I'm being honest, I was a bit relieved to learn you weren't the Soul Keeper. I could keep you and my immortality." He kissed her forehead, and she was repulsed and thrilled all at the same time. Connor lifted her hair off her neck and kissed her below her ear. Shivers of an unwanted kind raced up and down her spine. She hated that he could tease such a response from her. "Join me, Ser. We can be together forever."

"You're insane. There's no way in hell I'm going to let you sacrifice my sister."

Hank lifted his head, tried to sit up. Sera wanted to run to help him, and she needed to see if Jazz was okay. But she was frozen in place. Out of fear or shock she wasn't sure. Maybe neither. Maybe Connor had cast a spell over her to keep her from moving. She wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"The only way to stop me from taking her soul is to kill me. And you love me too much to do that. We both know you don't have the guts for murder."

She glared at him, inner calm settling over her as she realized she had a choice to make. "You'd be surprised by what I can do." Sera grabbed the area on his chest surrounding his heart. She squeezed, releasing as much venom and hate as she could muster into it. Her fingertips turned warm then burning hot. "Don't test me, Connor. Don't make me choose. We can put an end to this right now. I'll take Hank and Jazz, and we can forget all this ever happened." She meant it. Anything to keep her brother and sister safe. And to keep from having to kill the man she loved.

Connor's face turned scarlet, pain etched across his face. He seized her hand and tried to pry it loose. "You stupid bitch." He slapped her with his free hand, causing her to break contact. "I have a choice to make too. And I choose me." He turned on his heels.

"You killed my mother." It wasn't a question. She knew the answer.

He froze then faced her. For a second, there was true remorse in his eyes. He covered the distance between them slowly. "All she had to do was give me Jazz and the box." He cocked his head to the side in a sympathetic gesture.

Sera wanted to slap the sad smile off his face. Claw his eyes out. "I meant so little to you that you'd kill my mother to get what you wanted."

He punched the wall behind her. "Dammit, don't you get it? I had to have that box to keep living." Connor took her face in his hands, caressed her cheeks with his thumbs. "I made it quick. I didn't let her suffer. I used the box to take her soul. She didn't feel a thing."

The contents of her stomach threatened to spill. Dehbuck's father had suffered greatly when the box took his soul. The pain her mother must have gone through. "You make me sick. She was my mother."

"I will spend the rest of your life making it up to you, Ser. I swear I will."

"If you want to make it up to me let my sister go." Hank's legs were jerking and he was trying to get up. She had to distract Connor to give Hank time to recover enough to help her, so she threw her arms around Connor's neck. "I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt Hank or Jazz."

Connor peeled her arms away. "That's the one thing I can't give you." He forced her arms behind her back and started for the altar, pushing her forward. She tried to break free, but he was too strong. Seemed stronger than ten men.

Hank grabbed Connor's leg as he walked by. Without breaking stride, he kicked the dog in the side, making him let go.

"Hank!"

Undeterred, the dog whimpered and crawled after them. "Sera, now! Use your light!"

She stared at him, confused. Light?

"Seraphina, you can do it. The fire is still within you."

That whisper across her neck again.

"Concentrate, darling. You can do it. Let the flames consume you."

Sera's heart started beating erratically. Her pulse made her skin jump. Fear and rage consumed her, and she let out a piercing scream. Desperate to protect her brother and sister, she let the fire within her take hold. She could feel her blood boiling.

The candles on the altar jumped and sputtered, growing three times higher in size. The flames turned a deep red and shot in all directions.

Connor jumped back, releasing her. "What the hell did you do?"

Sera's breathing was getting harder and faster. Her chest rising and falling so fast it hurt. The flames of the candles shot higher still, sparks flying wildly, causing fires to sprout up around the room.

Connor hurriedly tried to stamp out the flames, cursing and coughing as the room began to fill with smoke. "Look what you've done. Stop it before you kill all of us."

She ignored him. Using all the fear and emotion she could muster, Sera concentrated as hard as she could on one of the candles. The flame shot to the ceiling and spread across it like a wildfire. She then focused her attention on a second candle, sending its sparks toward Connor. Screams ripped from his throat as the flames licked at his clothes and skin. He stumbled backward, slapping at the fire consuming him. He started going too fast and ran into the window, shattering the glass. The terrifying shriek he let out as he fell sent a shiver up her spine.

She released a sigh and calmed herself. The candles went out, and the fires surrounding them started to fade, leaving charred remains in their wake.

"Sera, we have to get out of here," Hank yelled as he crawled to the stairs.

She grabbed Jazz from the altar and ran to the stairs. Hank loped down the steps, stumbling and tripping as he missed a few. Sera followed, choosing to sit and slide down so she didn't tumbled forward with the little girl in her arms. Jazz was cold and sleeping the sleep of the dead.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Sera ran to her car and opened the back door. She laid Jazz in the seat, kissed her tenderly on the cheek. "No one is ever going to hurt you again." Squeezing her eyes shut, she placed her head against Jazz's chest to listen for a heartbeat. She let out a sigh of relief when she heard it. Faint but there. Thank God.

Hank was sitting beside her, licking his wounds as best he could.

"She has a heartbeat," Sera told him.

"I know. I can hear it. Doggie hearing, remember? We have to get going, Ser. Now!"

She nodded and motioned for him to get in.

"Get the box. We can't leave it here," Hank said as he jumped in the car beside Jazz.

After shutting the door, she raced to the kitchen and grabbed the box. As she reached the door going back into the garage, she hit the garage door opener. She tossed the box on the dash, slammed the door, and turned the key. Before the door had risen all the way, she threw the car in reverse and peeled out.

# Chapter Nine

"That story Mother told us when we were kids. The one about Dehbuck. It wasn't a story, was it?"

They'd been driving for almost two hours. Sera had breathed a sigh of relief when a fire truck had screamed by heading toward her house. One of the neighbors must have called it in.

Hank pulled his front paws from the top of the back seat and nuzzled Jazz. "No. It's our family history. Remember I said you weren't a witch?"

"Yeah."

"We're from an ancient line of diviners known as Dehbucks. We're tasked with protecting the Soul Keeper's Box and ensuring that the bad souls within stay put. Adding new ones if we have to."

"I'm not sure I want to hear any more." Sera squeezed the steering wheel so tight she couldn't feel her fingers and stole a glance at the box sitting on the dash. Bile rose in her throat as realization dawned.

"Hank..."

"Yeah?"

"I opened the box, didn't I?"

"Don't go there right now, Ser. Let's just get Jazz somewhere safe."

She slammed her fist down on the steering wheel. "Enough with the fucking riddles and mysteries. Tell me what happened. What I did."

"Yes, dammit. You opened the box."

Hank's words hit her like a bucket of ice cold water in the face. Sera gasped. She tried to suck air into her lungs, but she couldn't breathe. The scenery passed by the car in a blur, but to Sera it seemed as if she was frozen in place, immobile. Hank was calling to her, but his voice was so far away she couldn't make out what he was saying.

The blaring of a horn caused Sera's instincts to take over, and she jerked the wheel just before she slammed head-on into an oncoming car. Her lungs finally filled with air, and her vision cleared. But it did little to stop her body from trembling uncontrollably. Shock. I'm going into shock.

"Jesus, Sera, you almost killed us. Snap out of it, or so help me God, I'll bite your ear off."

She swallowed several times. Concentrated on breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. "I'm okay."

"Bull shit. You torched your husband to keep him from killing our baby sister. I'm not sure you'll ever be okay again."

"I'll be a lot better if you tell me I didn't cause all this by opening the box. That I'm not the reason our mother died, that Connor tried to kill Jazz."

"Of course you didn't."

"So you're telling me I just happened to fall in love with a psychopath who knew about the box that our family guards?"

"Why do you think the box needs watched over in the first place?"

"I swear to God if you don't start giving me straight answers instead of spouting off I'll take you and have you neutered."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me."

"Fine." Hank let out a whimper. "But first, I need you to understand that you didn't cause this. Mother never taught you about the box. You were just a kid. The things you saw when you opened that box horrified you. You had nightmares for weeks, when you'd sleep, that is. Mother was beside herself with guilt, so when you begged her to take it all away, she did."

Images of dark shadows flashed in Sera's mind. Figures so horrifyingly evil Sera shuddered, tried to will the memories away. How much more terrifying they must have been to her as a child. Child. A thought crossed her mind "Hank, if Mother erased my memories and bound my powers, then that means I was useless as the Soul Keeper."

His silence said it all.

"That's why she had Jazz."

Had she really expected him to answer her? Her stomach clenched. She was the reason all this had happened to poor Jazz. Why she'd lost her mother. Why she'd almost been sacrificed.

"I know where your mind's going, and you can knock it off."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Easy for you to say."

"Mother could have given the legacy to you when you were older. It isn't like we weren't well into our teens when she had Jazz."

That was true. So why had she made the decision to have another child rather than teach Sera her heritage? Now that Muriel was gone, Sera might never know.

They passed a sign that said 250. Sera glanced out the rearview mirror. She breathed a sigh of relief when nothing but empty road stared back. No headlights gaining on them. No sirens barreling toward the car. They'd driven almost a hundred miles. Was that far enough? Would a thousand miles be far enough?

Thoughts of Connor made her wonder what she was missing. "That still doesn't explain how Connor knew about the box."

"The same way we do. Stories passed down. Legends. The Fountain of Youth springs to mind."

"That story is about the box?" Connor's words echoed in Sera's head. "I could keep you and my immortality."

"Yes."

Her heart skipped several beats, stuttered in her chest. "I'm guessing if Connor knows about the box, so do others. So even if Connor doesn't come after it, someone else could."

"I would imagine so. Our destiny is to ensure the evil trapped within the box doesn't get out. Just as important is making sure the box doesn't end up in someone else's hands."

"Does Jazz know the story?"

"I have to believe if Mother told us, she told Jazzie. I sure wish she'd wake up. She doesn't look so great, Ser." He whimpered and licked the little girl's face.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. The adrenaline was receding followed by fear and terror that it was too late to save Jazz. No! She has to be okay. I can't lose her too.

Her nerves were shot. Sera wheeled the car to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. She was opening the door before she threw it in park.

"Sera! What the hell are you doing? We need to get out of here. Now!" Hank bound from the car after her.

She couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"Sera!"

"Shut the fuck up for a minute. I need a second." She collapsed to the ground and dropped her head between her knees. She grabbed the sides of her head and started rocking back and forth. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

"Hank, I'm scared." Jazz's voice seemed far away. Foreign.

Sera's head jerked up. Relief washed over her as she saw the little girl climbing from the car, her night gown fluttering in the wind as she ran to Sera.

"Jazzel Dazzle! You're okay!" Hank jumped around excitedly, tail wagging.

Tiny little fingers twined around Sera's neck, and she squeezed the little girl as tightly as she could, afraid to let her go. Jazz began to cry. Warm dog breath invaded Sera's senses as Hank nuzzled his way in to give Jazz kisses. Sera wasn't sure what ripped at her heart more: Jazz's crying or Hank's whimpering.

I don't know what to do. Oh my God. I killed my husband.

"I'm scared, Ser-Ser."

Sera held the little girl back and stared into her eyes. "It's going to be okay. I just need a minute."

"I want Mama."

"Me too, baby. Me too." Sera stiffened. "Jazzy, is Mama here?"

The little girl lifted her head and glanced around. "N-n-no." She wiped her arm across her nose.

"If you call her, will she come?" Please let her come. Please.

Jazz shrugged.

"Try, Jazzel Dazzle," Hank said.

"Mama! Mama!"

One heartbeat. Two heartbeats.

"She's here! Mama!" Jazz jumped up and down, relief awash on her little face, her gaze settling on something across the road. When she started toward the road, Sera grabbed her hand.

"Baby... can you see Connor?"

Eyes wide, caution reflected in their depths, Jazz glanced around. "No."

Sera took the little girl's hands in hers and squeezed. "Concentrate real hard and see if he's here."

"Mama says he isn't here, and I don't see him."

"Does Mother know—" Sera snapped her mouth shut, unable to bring herself to ask if Connor was dead. She took a deep breath and swallowed. "Does she know where he is?"

Jazz furrowed her brows. This was crazy. Sera had no right to put that much pressure on the child.

"She said, 'Hurry,' and, 'Now,' and... She's talking too fast. I can't understand."

Sera stood and scooped her sister up in her arms. "That's okay, Jazz. Let's get you back in the car and buckled in. We're going to go back and check on Connor. Make sure he's all right."

Hank grabbed her by the pant leg at the same time that Jazz screamed, "No," in her ear. She nearly dropped the little girl from shock and pain.

Sera wrangled the little girl into the car as she tried to shake the dog off her leg. "We have to go back and make sure Connor is okay, call for medical help. And more importantly, have him arrested so he can't get his hands on Jazz ever again."

"Listen to yourself, Sera. Going back is the worst thing you can do right now. We need to put as much distance between that bastard and us as possible."

"Don't call people names. It hurts their feelings," Jazz said.

"Hank, I can't just leave him there, injured. I love—" She choked, unable to finish the sentence. The man had tried to kill Jazz. She hated him with a passion.

Only she didn't.

He was the love of her life. Trying to convince her heart otherwise was useless. And if she'd killed him or if she let him die, she'd never forgive herself. She had to believe the Connor she loved still existed. Hope he would come to his senses.

"Get in the car, Hank."

"I won't let you take Jazz back there."

He was right. She could never put Jazz in harm's way again. Could hardly bear the thought that's she'd already put the girl in danger, albeit unknowingly.

"Seraphina."

A cold shiver ran up and down her spine. She whirled around and came face to face with her mother.

"Mom," she whispered. Tears welled in her eyes. Sera wanted to throw her arms around Muriel and hold her tight. "I don't know what to do." She crumbled to the pavement.

"Knowing's the easy part, darling." Muriel glanced inside the car and smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. She blew a kiss to Jazz and, in the blink of an eye, was gone.

Sera slid behind the wheel, closed the door, and put the car in drive. Her heart thumped in protest as she drove away from her home, away from Connor. But she had to let him go. At least for now. He'd meant to harm Jazz, had come too close to succeeding. She had to protect the little girl. Keep her hidden as far away from Connor as possible.

She stole a sideways glance at Hank, who alternated looking out the side window and the rear window. His punishment would be over in a year and a half. Then Sera could leave him to care for Jazz while she found Connor. She had a gift too. Somewhere inside her. One that wouldn't have led her down such a destructive road as to let her fall in love with an evil murderer. No, there'd been good in his eyes.

He loved her. Sera knew that without a doubt. And she adored him.

She glanced in the rearview mirror at Jazz. But he'd thrown it all away the minute he tried to hurt her sister.

"You okay, Jazzel Dazzle?" Her voice hitched, cracked. She was on the verge of tears again.

"I'm hungry. Can we go to McDonald's?"

Kids were so resilient. How Sera wished some of that would rub off on her. In that moment, her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, the shards stabbing her chest with every breath she took.

"Sure, baby. The first one we see."

Please let me keep her safe. Please help me ensure she's a happy child.

~~~~

Four months later

"Hank, you have got to be kidding me. A stripper? Really?"

"Look, we don't want to chance touching the trust fund Mother left. And while I don't have a problem continuing to pickpocket wallets and stealing purses so we can buy food, pay rent, I'm already in enough hot water. That behavior will only be tolerated for so long before I end up being a dog for the rest of my life. And might I remind you how that would cut my life expectancy down to about eight more years. Not an option. And since I can't very well fill out an application or apply for a job, that leaves you."

Sera didn't know whether to be furious at her brother for thinking this was a good idea or horrified that she might actually have to do it. "But a stripper? Seriously?"

"Hey, you can put all those years of ballet lessons to good use. It isn't like you can fill out tax forms, produce a birth certificate and a driver's license. We're in hiding. This guy owes me one, and he'll pay you under the table."

"I'm going to school to be a teacher, for God's sake. Ugh." She glanced at the sleeping Jazz. One little hand tucked under her chubby cheek. The other holding her teddy. Sera's heart melted. Yep, she'd do it. For Jazz and Hank, she'd do anything. "Maybe I could be a waitress for him? Bartender? Why does it have to be stripping?"

"Have you seen yourself, Ser? You're gorgeous."

Heat burned her cheeks. "I wouldn't have to... you know... give myself... to the men..."

"I've already told him I'd kill him and that it would be a slow death if he let anyone touch so much as a hair on your head. He's not like that. He's on the up and up."

She rolled her eyes. "If he's so honest, why would he agree to pay me off the books?"

Hank looked away. "I, uh, helped him out with something a few years back. He isn't happy I'm cashing in on that debt, but he'll do it. I did suggest that you would prefer waiting tables or mixing drinks, but the less you talk to strangers, the less chance we'll be found."

Somehow, that didn't make her feel better. Felt kinda icky to know her brother had been talking about her in such a way. But he was right. They were desperate. They needed money and fast. Jazz needed stability. On the run or not, the least they could do was offer her some semblance of a home. If that meant Sera had to flaunt herself in front of a bunch of drunk, horny men, so be it.

"Fine, I'll think about it. Maybe I can go talk to the guy—"

"Your first shift is tonight."

"Shit. Hank! How could you?"

"Keep your voice down. You don't wanna wake Jazz."

She narrowed her eyes and willed him to get fleas and ticks. "When you're human again, I swear to God I will make your life a living hell." Panic. She was panicking. Her throat was closing, sweat breaking out all over. "I don't know the first thing about stripping — dancing, for that matter."

"You really don't know how amazing you are, do you? You risk everything to keep Jazz safe, and me. You learned in the space of about three minutes that you had supernatural abilities, your brother was a dog, your sister talked to dead people, and that your husband was out to kill Jazz. Did you freak? No, you put that mother f—"

"Hank!"

"Sorry. Anyway, the point I'm making is you're strong and you can do anything. I'm working on getting us some new identities so you can get a real job, but that takes time."

She sighed. "I know. You're pretty terrific yourself. I couldn't have done it without you." She scratched behind his ears and kissed his head. "Who will watch Jazz while I'm gone?"

"Me."

"Yeah, somehow I don't think the authorities would be too keen on a dog as a babysitter while the girl's 'mother' is stripping. Can you say disaster?"

"Shit. True. I bet that nice lady across the hall would keep an eye on her for you."

Mrs. Stevens loved Jazz, spoiled her rotten. For that, Sera was glad. Their grandparents had all passed away by the time Jazz was born. So having Mrs. Stevens fill that void was at least somewhat of a comfort.

"Oh, there's one more thing. You needed a stage name, so—"

"I swear to God if you came up with something like Cherry Blossom or Buffy I will—"

"Flame. Your stage name is Flame."

Her brow shot up and her eyes widened. She lifted a handful of her hair and shook it. "It isn't like I enjoy being a redhead."

Hank gave her one of his silly doggie grins. "That is not why I picked that name. I picked it because of that burning fire, that flame that lives within you that makes you so amazing and saved our sister's life. But, hey, the red hair fits too."

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Chapter One

"A strip club? You seriously brought me to a strip club? I ought to arrest you for being an idiot," Sully Stone said, disgusted. "This lead of yours better pan out this time, or I will lock you up."

The strobe lights bouncing across the bar and stage illuminated the smoke hanging in the air, turning it to a rainbow haze. A blonde bombshell strutted around working her leopard print mini skirt, bikini top, and knee-high boots. With slightly off-timed movements, she smacked the stage to the music of Heart's Barracuda. When she jerked off her skirt exposing her matching thong and then followed by ripping off her top, the men went crazy, shouting obscenities and waving money at her.

Sully rolled his eyes. Sure, she was beautiful and sexy, but there was just something off-putting when it came to strippers. They were definitely in his "look but don't touch" category.

"Come on, Wally, I haven't got all night. Point me in the direction of this woman who was supposedly the last person to see Vinnie before he disappeared. I'm ready to go."

When Sully didn't get a response, he jabbed Wally hard in the side with his elbow, throwing the wily con artist off balance. Still, the man didn't answer. He remained transfixed by what was happening on the stage.

"Wally, you better not be wasting my time."

Wally lifted his right hand and pointed at the stage. "Her. She saw him, beelined it for him, and told him to get lost."

The atmosphere changed dramatically. The music switched to a slow and sultry acoustic guitar, Sully was startled when he recognized The Flame by Cheap Trick. The strobe lights were no longer flashing but illuminated the stage with a warm glow that reminded Sully of firelight. A huge, silver hoop with a long strand of red and gold material attached at the bottom descended from the ceiling. There, one leg entwined in the fabric, looking more like a prima ballerina than a pole dancer, was the girl from his aunt's funeral.

Sully's mouth went slack. She was breathtaking. Rather than the jarring, gyrating, titillating moves of a typical stripper, her routine was elegant, refined, more like the choreographed poses of an aerial silk performer as she glided through the air. The spotlight emphasized her flat stomach and sleek, toned legs as she used the fabric to wrap and spiral her body into sensual poses. The beautiful woman executed a number of slow, graceful twirls that carried her close to the top of the cloth, then she'd dropped several feet before striking a pose, red hair tumbling about her shoulders lending the illusion of a flickering candle flame.

The words of the song filled him, consumed him from the inside, a slow burn of desire igniting at his core. I probably would follow you anywhere, Red. Was it the music weaving a spell? Or was it the girl herself with her seductive allure? Whatever it was, Sully couldn't stop staring. This girl didn't whip or pull her clothing off. She weaved and twisted the shimmering strands around her body. Her actions far more arousing than the tight, leather bustier and black hot shorts she wore. The patrons reacted differently to her, as well. No loud raucous calls. The other men sat or stood as rapturous as he did.

Sully's breath caught in his lungs as the human flame peeked over one shoulder and made eye contact with him. Hanging upside down, she executed the splits in slow motion, at the last minute hooking her right knee around the fabric ending in a half split with parts of her caressing the red and gold in an intimate fashion that made his groin tightened behind the zipper of his jeans.

As the girl was lowered to the stage, the music stopped. The sudden silence brought him back to reality and he stood taller, trying to tamp down the strong feeling she had ignited and remember why he was here. The men around him clapped and whistled and threw money on the stage, and Red bowed before backing up and exiting, leaving the bills. Relief had Sully expelling the breath he didn't know he was holding, glad none of the men had touched the beautiful woman with flaming hair.

Eyes still trained on the dancer as she stepped off the stage and headed down the hall, Sully took a twenty from his wallet and tossed it at the man beside him. "Wally, take a hike."

Red, time to find out your story.

~~~~

Sully wasn't at all surprised the redhead refused to speak to him. Nor was he surprised to find himself nose-to-nose with a bouncer, who had biceps bigger than Sully's thigh, when he tried to follow the girl back stage. What did surprise him was when Goliath took a step back, adjusted his earpiece, and then told Sully that the club owner, Mr. Ronwald Gregor, wanted to speak with him.

As they headed down the hall, Sully placed his hand on the handle of his 9mm, his senses on high alert. People didn't usually surprise him, and they rarely spoke to him voluntarily. So he found himself more cautious than normal as the bouncer ushered him inside an office at the end of the hall. A feeling that only intensified as he eyed the redhead standing close to the wall on his right. So... she'd gone running to her boss about him. That explained why he'd been summoned.

"How can I help you, detective?" Gregor gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. His prominent brow was smooth with apparent unconcern about finding himself the focus of a cop asking questions. Glittering nearly black eyes held interest and, as far as Sully could discern, nothing more.

His dark hair was gelled against his head, and he dressed impeccably, with rather high-end taste, in a charcoal Italian suit and shiny black Italian loafers that would cost Sully a half year's salary, Gregor was the picture of elite New York club owner. Too bad they weren't in New York. And the Passion Flower wasn't an exclusive club unless the balding, paunchy, middle-aged lowlifes out front counted as elite clientele. Sully ignored the invitation to sit. "I'm looking for a guy named Vinnie Miles. Caucasian, about five feet, nine inches tall, one hundred fifty pounds soaking wet, salt and pepper hair, grey eyes, last seen in your club... sound familiar?"

"I can't possibly know everyone who comes into my establishment."

Doesn't really answer the question. He turned to the redhead. "How about you, Red? Does he sound familiar to you?"

Red tightened her lips and glared at Sully.

"Sarah, does the gentleman the detective described ring a bell?" Ronwald asked. "If you know something, please tell Detective Stone."

She stared at her boss for so long Sully thought she wasn't going to answer. Finally she said, "I don't know anything. Now if you gentleman will excuse me, I have another set to prepare for." With that, she turned to leave.

"Sarah, I won't tolerate any illegal activity in my club."

The girl stiffened, turned slowly, and narrowed her eyes at Gregor. Ronwald got up and walked around the desk. Sully's jealous bone jumped out when the man put his index finger under Red's chin and lifted her face, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"What is it? I can see you're hiding something." Gregor's voice was soft and soothing.

Red sighed, let her shoulders drop. "He came in the club a few nights ago. He was flashing a wad of money around, and he told Francine it could all be hers if she went home with him for the night. I told him to leave, and Ray showed him out."

"Ray showed him out?"

"Yes."

"Don't move." Ronwald looked at Sully. "Excuse me a minute, detective. I'll go get Francine and Ray so you can question them."

Sully's mouth fell open. He stopped short of shaking his head furiously back and forth. Was this joker actually helping him? Gregor was already out the door when Sully regained his composure and said, "Uuuu, thanks," to the man's back.

The room was silent for several moments. Sully finally turned to the redheaded bombshell. "You don't remember me, do you?"

She looked at him, a blank expression on her face. "I don't generally make it a habit to get too familiar with the customers here. Sorry."

Her insult hit its mark. "Yeah, you girls generally only see one thing — money."

"You sorry — I don't have to take that from yo—"

"My aunt's funeral," Sully cut in, regretting his snide comment. "You were there with your little girl..." Sully trailed off.

Her face turned almost as red as her hair. "I'm sorry. I was a bit distracted."

Sully smiled. "That's understandable, considering your daughter was laughing hysterically at the coffin right before she informed my Aunt Sofie that Aunt Helen hated purple."

Red covered her face with her hands and groaned. "I'm so very sorry for her behavior. I'm not really sure she quite understood what was going on."

Sully shrugged. "Hey, Aunt Helen did hate purple. Aunt Sofie knew it, and that's probably why she picked out a purple dress."

"That doesn't excuse my daughter's behavior."

"Yeah, well, you don't know my Aunt Sofie. How did you know Aunt Helen?"

"We live in the same apartment building that she did. She used to keep an eye on Jazz while I worked."

"Jazz. That's an interesting name," Sully said.

Red opened her mouth to reply as the door opened and Gregor came in.

"I'm sorry for the delay, detective. Francine was performing. She and Ray are both waiting next door to answer your questions. I've also informed Ray to remove all the surveillance videos from the night your friend disappeared. You're welcome to come back and review them to see if you can find anything that will help find him," Gregor said, holding the door open.

"Thank you." Sully glanced over his shoulder at the beautiful redhead. "It was good to see you again."

~~~~

"You did that on purpose." Sera crossed her arms over her chest, stopping short of tapping her foot at her boss.

Ronwald sat at his desk and picked up a file. "Yes I did."

Her eyes bugged out. "Why?"

"He's interested in you."

"What? No, he's not. I knew his aunt and he happened to see me at her viewing a few weeks ago."

Ronwald sat back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of him, regarding her. After what seemed like forever, he stood and walked around to the front of his desk and sat on the corner.

"Sarah, I may not 'read people' the way you do, but I know when a guy wants a girl. And he wants you. Trust me."

She swallowed. This conversation was making her nervous. And not because Ron thought Detective Stone had a crush on her.

"I want you to... shall we say... encourage him. Make sure a missing snitch is the only thing he's after."

"Are you crazy? I can't do that. He's a cop."

"Yes, you can."

Flame shook her head. "It's one thing to use my intuition to help you keep lowlifes out of the club—"

"Which you're paid handsomely for."

She sighed. She'd known this day would come. The day when her boss would become greedy and want more. "I'm sorry, Ron. I just can't do it. I won't be party to interfering in a police investigation." Flame prayed Gregor would respect her wishes.

Ronwald gave a quick jerk of his head. "I understand." He swiveled the chair around and spun the dial on the safe. The metallic click of the wheel rotating grated on Sera's already shredded nerves. After what seemed like an eternity, the door popped open and Ron reached in. He turned back around and tossed a bundle of twenties on the desk.

"Here you go. It's three months' pay plus a bonus."

Sera's eyes bugged out and her mouth fell open. It took several seconds for her to recover from the shock of what Gregor was saying without putting it into words. "You're firing me?"

"I'm sorry, but you just became a liability I can't afford." His words held a finality he didn't have to voice out loud. If she wouldn't do as he said, he was cutting his losses.

A liability? "Why? Because I knew some guy's aunt?"

"No, because you knew a cop's aunt, and said detective isn't going to go away now that he's found you. Had he come in here and learned nothing about his missing informant, he'd have walked out the door without looking back. But you... you changed that. Now his focus is on you and what you're doing here, not on some two-bit snitch."

Flame couldn't believe what she was hearing. It's not like she'd encouraged the detective. And Ron was the one who'd invited the man back to view surveillance tapes. She stiffened her spine, stood as tall as she could, and narrowed her eyes at Gregor. "And if I refuse?"

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Kay Springsteen makes her home in Virginia near the Blue Ridge Mountains. In addition to having written five full-length contemporary romance novels and one Regency romance, she works as an editor. When she's not editing or writing, Kay is busy with her hobbies of reading, photography, gardening, hiking in the mountains with one of her rescue dogs, spending time with her terrific family. She is a firm believer in happily ever after endings and knows one is out there for everyone; it just may not be exactly what was expected.

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If you ask bestselling author Kim Bowman's husband, he'd say she spends her days emailing her cyber best friend and writing partner, Kay Springsteen, drinking soda, and eating white chocolate. While that might be true, she also chases their five-year-old son Cage around, thinks about the housework she should be doing, and brainstorms her next favorite book. She's had the writing bug since she was a teenager and is happy to now live her dream of being a full-time author.

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