Read Shadows, Maps, and Other Ancient Magic for Free Online Page A

with a husky laugh of anticipation.
    Right. It was Kandy’s birthday, not my pity party. I was damn lucky to have her as a friend, especially with all we’d been through in the last year. I would have abandoned my trouble-enticing ass ten months ago … well, that was a lie. I was loyal to a fault. But then, so was Kandy.
    I knew the green-haired werewolf was still nursing the arm she’d injured ten months ago in Tofino — and then had injured again, by Audrey’s hand, back in January. Werewolves healed quickly, so the lingering nature of the injury spoke volumes about its severity. The fact that Kandy remained in Vancouver with me — potentially unable to fully access the healing magic of the pack — meant the world to me. I could count my true friends on one hand.
    No matter how many new cupcakes I created, how much chocolate I consumed, or how full I packed my days with treasure collecting and running a business, I just couldn’t shake this feeling of being out of sync with my life. My normal life. Or rather, the new normal. I just wasn’t quite sure what that was anymore.
    Kandy poked her head out from the entrance and hissed, “We’re late.”
    The only time the werewolf cared about being prompt was when food or lives were on the line.
    I grinned and followed her as she ducked back inside. A double-masted sailboat made entirely out of chocolate occupied the window display by the front door. Even the life-rings, ropes, and pulleys were chocolate. The milk chocolate waves were capped with white chocolate.
    Oh, yes. It was going to be a great evening.

CHAPTER THREE

    After way too much chocolate — and not a lot of actual learning — at Chocolate Arts, I seriously hoped that the chocolatier didn’t regret not doubling the price of our tickets. Not bothering with a cab this time, Kandy and I headed up a block and crossed over to Fable Kitchen, which had opened two years ago a few blocks east of the bakery. I hadn’t had a chance to check it out yet, but I really liked its ‘from farm to table’ mandate, and Kandy liked anywhere that cooked a great steak.
    We shared mussels to start, and yes, we ‘added’ fries as the menu helpfully suggested. I had the halibut while Kandy got her red meat fix. But the shining glory of the meal was the s’mores for dessert. Yes, freaking s’mores. I tried to not look too closely at the bill when it came, reminding myself that the bakery was doing well and Kandy’s birthday only came once a year. Belated or otherwise. Plus, it wasn’t like I actually needed new shoes … or groceries next week.
    We wandered home giggling and joking, cutting down to the alley behind West Fourth Avenue at Yew Street. I always preferred to use the back entrance of the bakery to come and go from my apartment, probably because I adored my kitchen, my haven, so much. Even just passing through it on the way to bed kept me grounded. The sun had set, but reds, pinks, and oranges still streaked the steadily deepening blue sky above the harbor. The colors even kissed the edges of the dark North Shore Mountains.
    “You promised me dancing,” Kandy said, then dissolved into a fit of giggles over something she only thought she’d said out loud. Giggling wasn’t the werewolf’s thing. She was more buzzed than I’d ever seen her, and I guessed that mixing drinks eventually had its way with werewolf metabolism as well.
    “Tomorrow night. I have to bake in the morning,” I said. “I also have mani-pedis booked at two.”
    “And Sunday? Brunch?”
    “Only the best for my green-haired friend.”  
    Kandy’s snort dissolved into another round of giggles, and she threw her arm around my neck.
    I laughed, feeling delightfully warm — inside and out — myself.
    Then, steps from the bakery’s back door, the shadow of the adjacent wine store’s industrial-sized garbage can tried to grab me.
    Seriously, it reached out as if it had actual fingers and tried to latch onto my left arm.  
    I