The younger woman was a striking contrast. She was perhaps in her early forties but as surrounded by layers of agitation as the first seemed pared down to the essentials. Her layered, wispy skirt and top flowed around her in batiked shades of olive green and soft brown. She was slightly plump. Her heavy makeup was almost like icing.

Without thinking, I cast out my senses: Alyce was curious but not disturbed. The two women were blood witches. From them I got uncertainty, mistrust, even an edge of fear.

"Hunter, these women were asking for you," Alyce supplied. She turned to them and gestured to me. "Celia and Robin, this is Hunter Niall."

The two women exchanged glances, and then, as if making a decision, the older woman nodded. "Thank you, Alyce," she said. It was a gentle dismissal, and Alyce raised her eye-brows at me when they couldn't see her, then left.

I took a moment to examine them with ingrained Seeker thoroughness. They both had relatively weak energy patterns-they were blood witches, but not powerhouses.

The older woman stepped forward. "I'm Celia Evans," she said in a smooth, modulated voice. She held out her hand, and I rose to shake it. Her grip was firm but not aggressive. "And this is Robin Goodacre." She gestured to her companion, who then stepped forward. Where Celia projected calm and confidence, Robin projected a fluttery distraction that I instinctively felt came from insecurity, or nonacceptance of herself.

I shook Robin's hand. "Hello," she said, in a nervous, breathless voice. I wondered what her relationship was to Celia.

"Hello," I said. There were a couple of unmatched chairs in the corner, and I pulled them over, then sat down again at my table. I gestured for the two women to sit, and they did.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Well, we've heard about you as a…ah…" Robin began, then seemed to get stymied by self-consciousness.