Daniel Rose should be having a good night. He’s a bestselling author; he’s had film adaptations of his books; he’s met movie stars. And there’s a storm outside tonight, electric and wild. Dan’s always liked storms. Tonight, though, he’s stuck staring at his computer and suffering from writer’s block, out of ideas and inspiration. But when an adorable young man knocks at his door, asks to borrow Dan’s kitchen spices, and announces witchcraft’s real and their apartment building needs an exorcism, Dan’s dark and stormy night takes a turn for the magical. Sterling Friday’s among the youngest qualified practicing members of the coven, and this haunted building’s only his third assignment. He’s a very good clairvoyant but less good at proper spellwork, and he could use some help with both ingredients and psychic anchors. He also happens to be a fan of those Daniel Rose novels, and he’s hoping Dan, as a writer, will believe his story and not turn him away. On a night drenched in magic and rain, as ghosts hover in the background, the attraction between them is immediate and elemental.

Elemental

“Right, you,” Sterling said to the shadow, green leaves and joyous oceans twining back into that voice, “I’m not leaving you, don’t worry, we’ll just do this first step together—” and put his own hand, shrouded in obsidian tatters, into his portal.


The entire universe let out a wordless shout, a cry of welcome, a hymn of care. Sterling’s eyes went wide and stunned and then fell shut.


Shadow-tatters swam along his arm, pooled upward, summoned more of themselves from the veil hanging mid-air. They poured into glory, and did not come back.


The rain, drumming and quick, drenched the world. Water and light, ozone and spices, commonplace and astonishing, mingled. Became entwined.


Weight lifted. Lead transmuted to gold: Dan’s living-room lamplight returned to normal, topaz and routine.


Chapter 8