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look. “Well, we haven’t won a Pulitzer, but I think we put out a good little paper.” He smiled, his white teeth contrasting beautifully with his dark skin.
    The man walked over to the far wall and touched the new sword Birdie had given me to adorn my office. He shifted and I couldn’t help but notice even his clothes reeked of wealth. His sports jacket was perfectly tailored, his shoes polished, his white shirt crisp, and his hair was definitely not courtesy of Cost Cutters.
    “Interesting piece.” He spoke clearly, enunciating each word as if he were savoring it like other people savored cake.
    The man with the wavy chestnut hair plucked the shiny sword off the wall by the handle that featured the Morrigan, and a tiny yelp escaped my throat. I couldn’t have strangers touching my magical tools. It left me exposed to attacks, both psychic and physical.
    Plus it was rude. And rude people pissed me off.
    I lunged forward to snatch the sword from his large hands, but Derek yanked me by the collar and I sprung back like a yo-yo. He hissed in my ear, “What’s wrong with you, woman?”
    Before I could answer, the man read the inscription aloud. “Between Destiny and Duty lies Faith. I’m so happy you found yours. Love, Birdie.”
    I swallowed hard. I couldn’t exactly pinpoint why, but this guy made me incredibly uncomfortable, and the fact that he had his hands all over my sword tainted it. I would have to consecrate it again for it to be of any use to me magically. Although the tip was still pointy, and if he didn’t stop manhandling my belongings, I might have to test its functionality on his perfectly pressed blue jeans.
    “Who’s Birdie?” he asked, cocking his head toward me as if he already knew the answer. As if he had a lot of answers wandering around that smug head of his.
    I was beginning to feel vulnerable. And I had sworn I would never feel vulnerable again.
    I ignored his question and found my voice. “I already told you I would pay for your damages. Now please take your hands off my office décor before I find a better place to stick it.”
    Derek pinched my arm.
    “Ouch,” I yelped.
    “Stacy, I’d like to introduce you to Blade Knight.” Derek’s voice was layered with a twinge of annoyance.
    Blade Knight extended his hand. I didn’t take it at first, but Derek shoved me forward.
    I shot a glare back at Derek, then faced Knight. “Forgive me for saying so, Mr. Knight, but that’s the fakest sounding name I’ve heard outside of a Marvel Comics book.”
    “Stacy!” Derek said.
    I braced myself before I shook the man’s hand, anticipating an image, a message, or a feeling. It was warm and cold at the same time. Strong. Almost too strong. I held it until I got the message I was seeking and then I abruptly dropped it.
    Blade Knight held his gaze on me. His eyes seemed to penetrate my very soul. One corner of his mouth curled up into a sly smile. “She’s right, actually. My editor thought I needed something a bit more…” He searched for the right word. “Dangerous.” His face told me he liked danger. Lived for it, in fact.
    I lived to fight it.
    “Your editor?” I didn’t like this. Not one bit.
    Derek smiled wide. “Blade is a crime writer. He’s here to do some research on a story.”
    “Research? What kind of research?”
    Because I swear, if he’d said witches , I would have had to slip him some hemlock and put him on a cruise to Alaska.
    Blade Knight looked at me and smiled as if he’d just been granted the key to the Emerald City. “Most of my novels are set in Chicago, but I wanted to set a story in a small town. This seemed like the perfect place.”
    A tiny wave of relief flooded me. “So you write fiction? Thrillers? Murder mysteries? That sort of thing?”
    “That’s right. I’ve been spending some time exploring and chatting with the locals.” He walked his eyes up and down my body and I suddenly felt the need for a turtleneck. “They have lots of