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  Passing Christmas Land, Rosalie was startled by voices. Abruptly, the door leading to the management offices opened and Anthony walked out. Rosalie was about to call to him when Stephanie exited right behind. The willowy blonde slipped her arm into his and they strolled toward the exit.

  ****

  “You bring news, hellhound?”

  Billy stifled a curse. The Odin used his official title. The wardens were realequns werely freaked. “Not yet, sir. David dashed-away out of the city. As you know, his ability leaves only a sporadic trail harder to track.”

  The dark-haired man in his early thirties next to the Odin curled his lips disparagingly. “He’s also your friend. If you can’t find him…”

  “I didn’t say that.” Billy bit back an angry reply. Trust the Baal to try to piss him off enough to lose his cool in front of the other wardens. “I have the general direction. I’ll find him, but the search will take time.”

  The Odin spoke. “Time is a luxury we don’t have.” He glanced at David’s father. Although manacled and under heavy guard, Brian sported a calm demeanor and met the Odin’s gaze squarely.

  Billy’s temper flared. The shackles had been the Baal’s command. Perfectly legal, of course, since they kept any Integral from calling power, but certainly not necessary. Shields built into the chamber produced the same effect. Besides, Brian gave his word he wouldn’t run—and his word was granite.

  The Odin didn’t seem happy with the decision, either. Billy glanced around at the other wardens. As written in the ancient laws, two deities, two demons, and two demigods elected by the populace sat at the high table. Unlike the Baal and the Odin, the faces of the Hera, the Dagon, the Toltec, and the Yōkai offered no clue where their sympathies lay.

  “Continued discussion is pointless,” rumbled the Odin. “We keep the hellhound from his mission.” He leaned forward and addressed Billy directly. “Find David and return him safely.” He overemphasized the last word.

  The point wasn’t lost on Billy. At least not everyone on the council was out for blood. The Odin would ensure Brian would not be tried until David was brought back. And then what? You know their fate. You know the law as well as anyone. He suppressed a shudder.

  The Baal let out a protest. “The law doesn’t require—”

  The Odin half-rose from his seat. “I ordered him returned safely, Dominic.” Stephen Lundberg was generally a mild-tempered man, but this time he thundered out, “Unless you wish to challenge me.” The Baal stiffened, but remained silent.

  Billy stifled a chuckle at Dominic Schiller’s obvious discomfort. Prick—serves you right. Dismissed by the wardens, the hellhound exited the great hall and made straight for the armory. Word had already filtered down, and the medusa and the valkyrie stationed inside only gave him a cursory glance. He picked up a pair of the arcane manacles, identical to the one encircling Brian’s wrists and stowed them in the pocket of his leather jacket, carefully avoiding the etched symbols on the inside. Even with the precaution, he flinched at the touch. It took a lot to make a hellhound flinch, especially one as big as Billy. Brian must be in pain, he thought bitterly. He wouldn’t give in, of course. He’d never allow the Baal the satisfaction.

  As he turned the corner a shiva dressed in full battle mode blocked the entrance to the underground garage. Oh, shit, what now?

  “Aunt Sadhri, I’m in kind of a hurry.”

  She beckoned him to the open door of a storage unit. “Get inside, young man. Now.”

  He stifled a groan, but obeyed. Never argue with a shiva. He learned that lesson the hard way from his mom. David’s mother, Grace waited within. “You shouldn’t be here,” Billy hissed. “If the wardens knew I talked to you—”

  Grace gave him a quick hug. “I’m not worried. I have a shiva guarding the door.”

  “Damn straight,” muttered his aunt. “Unless you think I can’t handle a simple protection detail.”

  Oh, cripes. “No ma’am.”

  Grace glanced down at the end of a manacle dangling from his pocket. “I hate to tell you, but if they’re meant for me, they don’t work on humans.”

  Embarrassed, he quickly stuffed it back inside his jacket. “They’re for David. I-I’m sorry. Stephen ordered me to find him.”

  “Don’t be. I rather have you on the hunt than any of the other hounds.” She grabbed his arm. “Something is going on here more complicated than a robbery. You know that. David would never be a party to the theft of The Book.”

  “I know. I can’t figure what happened. Do you have any idea where he went?”

  She shook her head. “He didn’t take his phone or credit cards.”

  “He knows better. They make him too easy to trace.” Billy eyed the door. “I have to go. David already has a long lead. What about you? You should go into hiding.”

  “Never. I won’t leave Brian. Besides, humans are no threat to anyone. Ask the Baal. I’ll snoop around and see what I can find out. Brian and I still have friends.”

  “You didn’t see the look on Dominic’s face. Just because you’re not a threat, doesn’t mean you won’t become a target.”

  “Dominic’s an ass wipe,” sneered Sadhri, still guarding the door. “Besides, she has a shiva at her back.”

  Grace flashed a grin. “Hear that. Now go. Find David.”

  Billy slipped out the door and into his car. He pulled out of the underground garage, rolled down the window, and inhaled deeply through his nose. A few stray molecules of David’s scent latched on to his nasal receptors. There…he turned onto the Lincoln Highway toward the Holland Tunnel. David was long gone from New York City, but no matter how fast or far a quarry runs, a hellhound never loses the scent.

  ****e She

  Rosalie cradled her head against the steering wheel with a groan. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What were you thinking? Men like him don’t go for coffee. They go for women with ginormous headlights crammed into a pushup bra.”

  She gave the car key a savage twist and the engine wheezed to life. Ten minutes later she dragged herself up to the third floor of an apartment building and into her tiny rental. Rosalie shut the door, threw her purse to the ground, and plopped onto the sofa.

  “Men are stupid.” She punched a pillow. “Who needs them? Spend another holiday alone. No big deal.”

  Her gaze strayed around the cramped one bedroom apartment; bathroom, kitchenette with eating area open to a living room with a scattering of used furniture. Space challenged for sure, but all hers—the only place she could afford after student loan and car payments. Another few years and those would be paid off, too. She sighed. The promotion would have been nice. With the extra money, she wouldn’t have to live on the thin edge of a dime any longer.

  “Stupid Randall, stupid men.”

  Rosalie shot to her feet. “Moping gets you nowhere. Who cares if it’s barely November? What you need, missy, is a little holiday cheer.”

  She pulled a battered cardboard box from the closet and ran her hand lovingly over the dusty surface. Rosalie’s Christmas Box—her mother’s handwriting clearly visible even after all these years. She unpacked the bedraggled artificial tree and wrapped aroundheeapped a the lights. A boxful of handmade ornaments, a few strands of garland and voilâ! Rosalie stood back to admire the results. The top of the tree canted lazily to one side, most of the glitter had fallen off the macaroni wreath, and the craft stick reindeer lacked one googley eye. To her mind, the tree never looked better.

  Rosalie placed one final ornament near the top, a bright pink snowflake always hung last. Her father bought the ugly hunk of plastic before he passed away. She loved every garish bit. Austin always ribbed her about the little tradition to jumpstart the holidays. Now he was gone, too. Off to a new job with a new girlfriend in California.

  “At least we still have each other, Snowflake.”

  She slipped into pajamas and made a PB&J. Snuggling under the comforter on the sofa, Rosalie watched TV while she ate. The twinkly glow of the tree lights
cast patchy shadows on the wall.

  “Life isn’t so bad, Snowflake. The holidays are almost here. Penrose’s always shines during the holidays. Plus, I’ll get my employee bonus soon.”

  The thought was enough to perk up Rosalie. Maybe the extra money would keep her a few car payments ahead of the game. She shivered as an errant chill sent a ripple of goose bumps up her arm. Suddenly nervous, she glanced around. The lights didn’t seem so bright anymore, intensifying the drab interior.

  Except for one.

  The little pink snowflake cast a blood red reflection on the wall as if flashing a warning. She blinked. The image vanished. Rosalie chuckled to herself. Oh brother, I’m really tired. She turned off the TV and staggered into the bedroom. Five minutes after her head hit the pillow she was asleep.

  ****

  David stood on top of General Robert E. Lee’s head and surveyed the surroundings. The lake at the foot of Stone Mountain, Georgia, was far below surrounded by a mixture of wooded areas and green open fields. As dusk settled, Atlanta’s lights twinkled in the distance. Any other time the young man would linger over the breathtaking view, but he wasn’t there to sightsee.

  He closed his eyes and let his senses drift. For a few horrible moments the thread eluded his grasp. Did the connection sever already?

  Oh please…not yet.

  With undisguised relief, he latched on to the sharp unmistakable pull. The Book was south this time…definitely south. At least he was headed in the right direction. He realized his hands shook and grinned wryly.

  You’re not dead yet. Keep ahead of the hellhounds and you’ll be fine.

  David’s sharp eyes pinpointed an open spot down on the valley floor over eight hundred feet below. The light was strong enough for him to get a good fix; no cars, no people, nothing to impede a soft landing. He casually stepped off General Lee’s head, and dashed-away in a puff of wind.

  Chapter Two

  Rosalie pulled into a parking spot with a screech of the brakes. She bounded up to Penrose’s back door. Brendon Myers from Fine Jewelry leaned against the wall. He took a deep drag from a cigarette.

  She flashed a smile. “Oh, hey. I thought I was late.”

  “Nope.” Brendon flicked the cigarette to the concrete and ground the butt out with his toe. “You’re right on time.”

  She paused at the door with a frown. “I thought you quit smoking.”

  “Yeah, well, I took it up again since I was fired.”

  Rosalie froze in/i> her tracks. “What?”

  “I was fired,” he spit out. “Me and a bunch of others. Stephanie came in early to spread the love. She cut positions right and left.”

  “But why?” she stammered out. “I know the economy sucks, but Marissa said sales only took a slight dip. Things are sure to pick up during the holidays.”

  “A slight dip for us is a nosedive for corporate.” His voice dripped with bitterness. “Stephanie promised them a new program to decrease costs and increase profits. Eighteen years and I’m booted out the door.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and brushed past her. “Keep your head down, Rosalie. I’ll see ya around, hopefully not in the unemployment line.”

  She followed him with her eyes as he walked dejectedly toward his car. A tight knot formed in her stomach. Maybe the cuts weren’t as bad as Brendon said. Maybe they were only temporary.

  Rosalie walked through Central Receiving past anxious clusters of employees speaking in hushed tones. She spied Marissa in the locker room. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I had no idea,” she blurt out, clearly upset. “None of the assistant managers did. Stephanie called us in this morning…said she had big plans…ways to increase profits.” Marissa’s hands shook. “She didn’t even give us a chance to break the news gently. She just started cutting. No rhyme, no reason, no regard for staffing needs.”

  “H-how many?”

  “Thirty-two. Most were here for years.”

  “I met Brendon at the door. The layoffs make no sense.”

  “I know. Brendon is the best. Have you seen the files on his customers? He texts with reminders of birthdays or anniversaries…makes notes on what wives or girlfriends prefer. Brendon could write the book on service and his customers stay loyal. They don’t go to other stores in the city. They go to him.”

  “Why toss Penrose’s best jeweler? What about his custom pieces?”

  “There won’t be any more.”

  “So now we sell the same schlock as the malls,” Rosalie burst out. “How does that set us apart?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Stephanie’s crazy if she really thinks this is a good business practice.”

  “Tell that to the board. On paper layoffs make sense. Brendon was here a long time. He earns more than others. You dump older workers with higher salaries and your bottom line instantly looks brighter.”

  “And the quality of your service gets flushed down the toilet.”

  “Stephanie doesn’t care about that. I don’t think Randall Penrose or the board does, either. This store is the last retail holding of the corporation. All the other investments are in real estate and technology start-ups.” Her voice dropped. She cast a nervous glance around as if to make sure they weren’t overhead. “I’m afraid Brendon and the others are only the first to go.”

  Rosalie sucked in her breath. “Who—?”

  “I don’t know, but Penrose’s is changing and not for the better.” She squared her shoulders. “I’d better go. I can’t afford to lose this job. You, either.”

  At first, work continued as usual at Penrose’s or as usual as anything gets with the threat of instant termination looming over everyone’s head. Tuesday and Wednesday brought news of even deeper manpower cuts. This time not even lower paid recent hires were spared. Rosalie froze every time she heard the strident click of Stephosaick of anie’s stilettos headed her way. Was she the next to go?

  The week drew to a close with no more firings. Rosalie dared to hope the worst had passed. Christmas Land opened on Saturday. Sales would surely pick up enough to even please Stephanie.

  Although other temp workers were let go, Anthony was spared. After catching him with Stephanie, Rosalie dropped the idea of coffee until she ran into him in the break room on Friday. He sat alone. He looked up as she came in and flashed his brilliant white smile. Perhaps she was mistaken. Maybe nothing existed between him and Stephanie. Might she still dream of Christmas romance after all?

  Stephanie poked her head in the door. “Anthony, I need to see you in my office pronto.”

  Anthony shot up from his chair and blew past Rosalie without even a second glance.

  Ah well, she sighed to herself, a lonely Christmas may be glum, but an unemployed one is far worse.

  ****

  Saturday was a traditionally busy day, but the opening of Christmas Land drew abnormally large crowds. Even from Customer Service Rosalie made out the sea of heads bobbing in that direction, most of them young couples with children in tow.

  “All these people are a good sign, aren’t they?” chirped Marissa.

  “Yup, thank God for Ross—the next best thing to sugar and violent video games for keeping kids happy.”

  Her friend chuckled. “I hope Santa didn’t hear that or you’ll find nothing but coal in your stocking, for sure.”

  Throughout the day Rosalie’s spirits rose higher. She decided even Randall Penrose in his tailored corporate suit would be pleased by the sight of all the eager shoppers. During her break, she ambled over to Christmas Land and peeked at Ross decked out in full Santa regalia. She watched in amusement as a grandmother tried to coax her reluctant granddaughter up to the throne for a picture. The child stubbornly refused until Ross bent down and whispered something in her ear. The little girl beamed at him and immediately scampered up his knee. The sight made Rosalie want to burst out in a couple of spontaneous fa-la-las. She restrained herself.

  Rosalie clocked out late in the afternoon, but instead of lea
ving she determined a little celebration was in order. Penrose’s had a coffee shop tucked into the corner near the front door. Original to the store, the décor sported a true soda fountain complete with marble bar countertop and red vinyl seats in mahogany booths.

  Nowadays, the red vinyl was cracked and the checkered linoleum floor dulled with age, but the food continued to be excellent—especially the pastry. The kitchen was the province of Miss Lu. She and her staff churned out a masterful roster of southern delights using her mother’s original recipes. Rosalie admitted to a special weakness for the sweet potato pie. She decided on a slice to go. Maybe two.

  “Well, hello, dear. Are you done for the day?” Alone in a booth, Mittens nursed a cup of coffee. Her oversized purse sat on the floor. The gardening gloves rested on top. “Won’t you join me?”

  Rosalie hesitated. She was tired. Her feet hurt. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on the sofa, watch bad TV, and stuff her face with pie. But Mittens looked so hopeful, she couldn’t bear to refuse. She sat down and ordered a cup of coffee and a slice. Rosalie cast a furtive glance at the old handbag and worn gardening gloves. Poor dear, probably on a tighter budget than mine.

  “How about you, Mit—I mean, Miss Delia. Let me buy you a piece of pie.”

  “Oh, I really shouldn’t,” she protested.

  “Nonsense,” Rosalie insisted. “My treat.” Mittens accepted with pleasure.

  The pie was a gooey slice of heaven. After Rosalie finished, she leaned back and let out a contented sigh.

  Mittens chuckled. “No one bakes pie like Lu. I even use her recipe and mine don’t turn out half as well.”

  Rosalie raised an eyebrow. “You’re special. I didn’t think Miss Lu ever parted with a recipe.”

  “Well, we’ve been friends for many years. We both started at Penrose’s at the same time.”

  “You worked at Penrose’s?”

  “Oh, my, yes. I was Arthur Penrose’s secretary.”

  Her eyes widened. “The founder?”

  “Yes.” Mittens’ gaze drifted out into the store. A slight smile played about her lips as if recalling a happy memory from long ago. “He and his wife Judith were such lovely people, both so kind. I worked for Arthur until my first child was born. Judith’s health took a turn for the worse soon after, poor dear. I used to visit with the children and bring flowers from my garden. She didn’t get out much and enjoyed the company. We both had a passion for growing things and her health no longer allowed her to work outside. Arthur, I know, appreciated I took the time.”