“Tell them you’re one of the chosen ones,” Zoe said out of the corner of her mouth and was shushed by Dana.

“I am one of the chosen, one of the seekers of the keys. Time is short. I ask you to show me the way to the key so that we can free the souls of . . . Dana, no pushing the pointer.”

“I’m not. Really.”

Mouth dry, Malory opened her eyes and watched the pointer shudder under their fingertips.

“The candles,” Zoe whispered. “Oh, jeez, look at the candles.”

The flames shot up, a trio of slim gold edged with red. Light began to throb, like a pulse. Something blew cold through the room and set those flames dancing.

“This is wild!” Dana exclaimed. “I mean seriously wild.”

“It’s moving.” The pointer jerked, with Malory’s fingers trembling on it. She heard nothing but the roar of blood in her own head as she watched it slide from letter to letter.

YOUR DEATH

Her gasp was still strangled in her throat when the room suddenly burst with light and wind. She heard someone scream, threw up an arm to shield her eyes as a form coalesced out of a whirlpool of air.

The board shattered as if made of glass.

“What are you playing at?” Rowena stood in the center of them, the sharp heel of her shoe digging into a shard of the board. “Have you no more sense than to open a door to such things as you cannot understand or defend against?”

With an annoyed sigh, she stepped gracefully out of the circle and picked up the wine. “I’d like a glass, please.”

“How did you get here? How did you know?” Malory pushed herself up on rubbery legs.

“It’s fortunate for you that I did both.” She picked up the salt, and upended the box over the remains of the board.

“Oh, now, just a damn minute.”

“Sweep it up together,” Rowena ordered Zoe. “Then burn it. I’d very much appreciate a glass of wine.” She handed the bottle to Malory, then sat on the sofa.

Outraged, Malory stalked into the kitchen, yanked a wineglass from the cupboard. She marched back and shoved the glass into Rowena’s hand. “I didn’t invite you into my home.”

“On the contrary, you invited me and whoever else chose to come through the opening.”

“Then we are witches.”

Rowena’s expression changed as she looked over at Zoe’s rapt face. “No, not the way you mean.” Her tone was more gentle now, patient teacher to eager student. “Though every woman has some magic. Still, together your powers are trebled, and you had just enough skill, just enough desire to issue an invitation. I’m not the only one who answered it. You felt him,” she said to Malory. “You’ve felt him before.”

“Kane.” She cupped her elbows and shuddered as the memory of the cold seeped into her. “He moved the pointer, not us. He was playing with us.”

“He threatened Malory.” The thrill forgotten, Zoe was on her feet now. “What are you going to do about it?”

“All I can.”

“Maybe that’s not good enough.” Dana reached up to link her hand with Malory’s. “I heard you scream. I saw your face when you did. You felt something Zoe and I didn’t, and it was real terror. It was real pain.”

“It’s the cold. It’s . . . I can’t describe it.”

“The absence of all warmth,” Rowena murmured. “All hope, all life. But he can’t touch you unless you allow it.”

“Allow it? How the hell did she . . .” Zoe broke off, looked down at the broken board at her feet. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry. Mal, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not.” She took Zoe’s hand, so for a moment the three of them were linked.

Seeing them, Rowena smiled into her wine.

“We were looking for answers, and you had an idea. Which is more than I’ve had the last couple of days. We tried something. Maybe it was the wrong something,” she added as she whipped back to Rowena, “but that doesn’t give you the right to slap at us for it.”

“You’re absolutely right. I apologize.” She leaned forward to spread Brie on a cracker, then tapped a finger against the Tarot deck. Light flickered over them, then was gone. “These will do you no harm. You may develop a skill for readings, or even find you have a gift for them.”

“You . . .” Zoe pressed her lips together. “If you hadn’t come when you did . . .”

“It’s my duty, and my wish, to keep you from harm. When and how I can. Now I should go, leave you to your evening.” Rowena rose, looked around the room. “You have a pretty home, Malory. It suits you.”

Feeling ungracious and childish, Malory huffed out a breath. “Why don’t you stay, finish your wine?”

Surprise ran across Rowena’s face. “That’s very kind of you. I’d like that. It’s been a very long time since I’ve sat in the company of women. I’ve missed it.”

It wasn’t very strange, after the initial awkwardness, to have a woman who’d lived for thousands of years sitting in her living room drinking her wine.

And it became apparent by the time they started on the truffles that women—goddess or mortal—were the same under the skin.

“I rarely fuss with it,” Rowena said while Zoe worked her mane of hair into an elegant upsweep. “It’s not one of my talents, so I tend to wear it down. I’ve cut it occasionally, but I always regret it.”

“Not everyone can wear it simply as you do, and still look regal.”

Rowena studied herself in the hand mirror as Zoe worked, then tilted the glass to study her stylist. “I’d love to have your hair. It’s so striking.”

“Couldn’t you? I mean if you wanted to look a certain way, couldn’t you just . . .” Zoe fluttered her fingers and made Rowena laugh.

“That isn’t my gift.”

“What about Pitte?” Dana rolled over on the couch. “What’s his deal?”

“He’s a warrior, full of pride and arrogance and will. He’s maddening and exciting.” She lowered the mirror.

“Zoe, you’re an artist.”

“Oh, I just like playing with hair.” She stepped in front of Rowena and released a few tendrils around her face. “A great look for that important board meeting or the after-Oscars bash. Sexy, female, and powerful. Well, you give that off no matter what the do.”