Page 65 of Sweetwater and the Witch

“Maybe not. Ethan seems to think we can make it work. Meanwhile, I’m trying to stick with the truth as much as possible. When my mother called this afternoon to ask what was going on, I told her Ethan and I are dating, which is true, more or less, but that we had only recently met and weren’t comfortable making a formal announcement. I stressed there was no ring involved.”

“Yet.”

“Yet. I told her we wanted to be sure.” Ravenna opened the bottle and poured a stiff shot of the brandy into a glass. “Mom said she understood.”

“What about Ethan’s family? How are they handling it?”

“I don’t know. That’s Ethan’s problem. Fortunately no one from the Sweetwater clan has called to ask me if I’m an amber gold digger trying to seduce a Sweetwater heir into marriage.”

“At least you’re still employed.”

Ravenna took a healthy swallow of the brandy and lowered the glass. “For now. And only because Ethan told my boss we were expecting to enter a CM.”

“You make things sound so ominous.”

“I’ve got a house of cards going here, Sybil. Sooner or later it’s all going to come tumbling down.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t have to be the end of the world when it does. I’ve been thinking. I can’t afford to hire you. I’m still a one-person operation. But if you lose your job at Ottoway, you might consider going into business on your own.”

“I’ve thought about that.” Ravenna leaned back against the counter and sipped the brandy. “The basic problem is the start-up cost. I’d have torent an office. It would take a while to build a reputation that would attract a high-end clientele. It might be a year before I would be able to make a decent living.”

“What about sharing an office with me? I can’t afford to pay you, but what about a partnership?”

“Are you serious? That is an extremely generous offer.”

“Not really,” Sybil said. “I can barely afford the rent as it is, but if you were bringing in some additional business and sharing expenses... Just something to think about.”

“It’s a very intriguing idea. Let’s talk about it after I get back from Silver Lake, assuming I survive.”

“You will do just fine. You’re a fire witch. You’ve got skills.”

“Useless skills. But thanks for the pep talk and the offer to share office space. I actually feel much better now.”

“Good. Fake or real, enjoy dating Ethan Sweetwater while it lasts. It’s obvious you’re finding him a lot more interesting than the thirty-six dates in your little black book.”

Ravenna thought about the events of the past forty-eight hours. “You have no idea. Good night, Sybil.”

She ended the call, finished the brandy, set the alarm, and went to bed. She did not go to sleep until Harriet bounced up onto the quilt, bringing the scents of the night with her.

Chapter Thirty-One

The whisper of a draft of night air stirred her restless dreams and sent a flash of electricity across her senses. Ravenna came awake with the sure and certain knowledge that something was terribly wrong.

A low growl sounded from the end of the bed. In the green shadows she could see Harriet’s sleeked-out silhouette. All four eyes were open. She was no longer a cute fluff-ball. She was a hunter.

“Wait,” Ravenna whispered.

Harriet blinked her hunting eyes but she did not dash recklessly off the bed. Once again she seemed to get the message that they were supposed to function as a team.

Ravenna sat up carefully and swung her feet to the floor. Out in the hall a floorboard creaked, sending another chill across her senses. Harriet growled again.

Ravenna stood, intending to close and lock the bedroom door. She was pretty sure that was what you were supposed to do when yoususpected there was an intruder in the house. Stay in the bedroom, lock the door, and call the police. Worst-case scenario, she and Harriet could slip out the window.

She tiptoed across the room on bare feet, but she didn’t move fast enough. A figure loomed in the doorway. In the radiance of the Dead City Wall streaming through the window, she could make out his features. Date number thirty-five. She was stunned.

“Clark?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Clark Hatch raised a mag-rez gun. “I can’t write a word and it’s your fault. You stole my plot. You stole my characters. I’ve got a contract deadline coming up.”

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