“Yes, you can come by the dogs’ temporary housing, although we won’t be conducting any adoptions until the remodeling is finished. You’re welcome.” I hung up the phone and gave the man standing at the reception counter a bright, professional smile. “Can I help you?”

“Do you run this shelter?” he asked, looking around the office.

“No, I’m just the Internet guru and fund-raising administrator. I’m afraid our office is closed. I’m just about to leave myself, actually. We’re having some remodeling done, and-”

“You’re Pia,” the man interrupted.

“Yes,” I said slowly, looking at him a little closer. Something about him was ringing a bell in my head, too. “I’m sorry. I have a horrible memory for faces. Have we met?”

“Not formally, no.” He smiled. The woman came over and smiled at me, as well. I stood up slowly, suddenly wary. “We met, if you can call it that, a week ago. Outside the Safeway. Your cart bumped into my wife’s, and later seemed to be attracted to my shoe-”

“Oh, yes,” I said, goose bumps marching up my arm. I glanced at the stone swinging gently from the bracelet on my right wrist. It wasn’t giving me any sign that the couple was anything but what they seemed, and yet the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. “How is it that you know my name?”

The man’s smile grew larger. “A new Zorya is always celebrated, no matter where she is located.”

“Oh, no,” I said, backing away slowly. “You’re reapers.”

He bowed. “We have the honor of belonging to the Brotherhood of the Blessed Light.”

“Then I did hear you right the other day at the store. And you . . .” I turned to the woman. “You said something lightish, too.”

She came forward, stopping in front of me to dip an awkward curtsy. “I’m Janice Mycowski. This is Rick, my husband, and I can’t tell you how thrilled we are to meet you.”