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then there was no hope for a romance, or any relationship at all. Ingrid couldn’t change or hide who or what she was for him. If she could accept that she could love a mortal, then he would have to accept that he was in love with a witch.
    “Detective Noble, while I’m grateful for your concern, I’ve taken care of myself for years, and it just so happens that I’ve done a fine job all on my own.” She heard how cold she sounded and instantly regretted it. Was it just moments ago that they were kissing across the table?
    Now they were glaring at each other, and when Ingrid finally broke eye contact, she took her purse and rummaged through it for her wallet.
    “I’ve got it,” he said.
    She couldn’t find her wallet anyway. She nodded curtly. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you around.” She’d been looking forward to this date for weeks. How horrid that it had to end this way, with not even a friendly kiss on the cheek or a final handshake or plans to see each other again.
    Matt stood up. “Ingrid—hey, come on. We’re supposed to have dinner.”
    “You know what? I’m not hungry.”
    He looked hurt. “At least let me drive you home …”
    “No. I prefer to walk. It’s way before midnight,” she said. She stormed out of the bar, glad that Freya hadn’t seen her so she wouldn’t have to answer any questions.
    Ingrid stormed away, furious with herself. She didn’t know what had happened back there, but she sensed that she had ruined any chance with Matt. And it filled her with an acute and unbearable sense of loss.
    How many centuries would she have to wait for the kind of love that could wake her sleeping heart? Even though he had acted like a condescending policeman , Matt had mostly just showed how much he cared for her. But that didn’t matter now, because she was sure that after tonight he wouldn’t anymore. That was the thing that cut her through the heart: she’d lived a long time and met many different men, but she knew there would only ever be one Matthew Noble.

chapter six
All in My Mind
     
    Joanna couldn’t believe it. Either Gracella had gone mad, or she had. Gilly watched, perched on a chair, as her mistress moved frantically around the room, setting things right again. Joanna had walked in to find the furniture in her study had been rearranged: her desk was no longer facing the view of the Atlantic the way she liked it, but rather it was placed below a tableau of a countryside landscape against the hunter-green wall, like some kind of practical joke. The love seat now occupied the spot where the desk had been, as if two lovers had sat there, staring out at the sea after performing the switcheroo.
    It had been a long day and she had been looking forward to some nighttime pleasures—a bit of reading, some light sewing before bed. She only enjoyed rearranging furniture if it was her idea, and she liked the room the way it had been. This would not do.
    It was not just that, but the books on her shelves had been rearranged as well, conspicuously out of alphabetical order with Wizardry and Its Very Essence placed at the front and The Abracadabra of Real Magic all the way in the back. Joanna had been hunting for a particular ancient and rare book of spells, which she’d always been able to spot very quickly because it was in a Ziploc bag to preserve its worn leather cover with the fading gold-leaf letters, delicate spine, and yellowing pages.
    But now it was nowhere to be found. She’d have to use, well, magic to find it. She kept her wand inside a secret compartment of her bureau drawer when she wasn’t using it, but when she opened the lock, she found it was gone. This final coup was the most alarming. She turned the entire office upside down in an effort to locate it.
    “Where is it, Gilly?” she asked her familiar, but the raven only cocked her head, pecked at her chest, and gave no response, which was also troubling.
    “Well, I give up,” Joanna announced. She needed a