Starlight Web: A Moonshadow Bay Novel, Book 1 Read online

  Killian shook his head. “I don’t understand men who act like that. Was he as controlling in other ways?”

  I nodded. “Yes, and I kept my mouth shut to keep the peace. Oh, he never hit me, but I spent eighteen years under his constant criticism. I guess I didn’t realize that the emotional abuse was creeping up on me. It’s easy to excuse behaviors when they’re passive aggressive—and when your partner gaslights you.” I hadn’t intended on diving into the dark corners of my marriage, but since he asked, I decided to answer honestly.

  “What finally made you leave?”

  “Ellison cheated on me for a year. Magic finally brought out the truth. I cast a spell to find out if he was having an affair, and sure enough, two days later I walked in on him going down on his girlfriend. When we divorced, he managed to steal my half of the magazine we started, and he conned me out of the house. Trust me, I’m not stupid. He was just smart and sleazy, and I… I guess I never expected him to go that far. I trusted him when I shouldn’t have.”

  I had probably just shunted Killian fully into the friendzone without meaning to. No man wanted to hear griping against the ex, especially right up front. But I liked Killian. If he ended up a good friend, I’d be happy with that.

  Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, a little voice inside whispered.

  I glanced at my watch. We had spent ninety minutes over lunch. It was going on 12:30. “I’d better go. I have a job interview at three, and I want to get my purchases home so that I don’t have to worry about leaving them in the car. Though there isn’t a great deal of crime around Moonshadow Bay.” I paused. “When will you be opening the new clinic?”

  He leaned back, watching me. “I’ll be looking at the offices I took over this afternoon and examining how much work I need to do to renovate. I’d like to have my office up and running by the new year.”

  “If I find a pet—which I am thinking of—I’ll definitely bring her…or him…to you.” I started to pull out my wallet, but he protested.

  “No, please, I want to pay. I enjoyed lunch. And I enjoyed the company even more,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand.

  Again I felt flustered, since I had been the one to ask him to lunch, but then I decided that if he wanted to pay, I’d be gracious and not object.

  “Thank you. I had fun, too. I’ll see you around,” I said, standing.

  “I think I’ll stay and have more coffee. Good luck on your interview!” He waved as I started for the door. “Wait, what are you interviewing for?” he called.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “It’s for a paranormal investigator job at a place called Conjure Ink,” I said, then waved and pushed open the door.

  Conjure Ink was headquartered in an office complex on the outskirts of town, surprisingly close to my house. It was also buttressed against Mystic Wood Park. The building also housed a computer company and an office supply store, and the complex boasted several restaurants as well. Conjure Ink was on the far end to the left, only steps away from the park.

  I pushed open the door, peeking inside. There was a receptionist’s desk in front of another door. Otherwise, the waiting area was sparse—a few chairs, a table, and some magazines about UFOs and Bigfoot. The receptionist’s desk had a sign on it that read: ring bell and please wait.

  I rang the bell and took a seat, smoothing my hair and making sure I had my tote with the file folder containing my resumé. I had also brought a few articles I had written, in case Tad wanted to see them. I leaned back, waiting. A few minutes later, I readjusted myself, wondering if this was all a joke. But just as I was getting ready to leave, the door behind the desk opened and a young man—or he looked young to me—peeked out.

  “Are you here about the job?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes,” I said, standing. I towered over the guy, who couldn’t be more than five-four, and a sinking feeling told me I should probably just turn around and leave.

  “I’m Tad Gelphart, and you are…?”

  “January Jaxson.” I held out my hand and he took it, giving me a surprisingly strong squeeze. “Is the job still open?”

  “Oh yes,” Tad said. “We’ve been looking for the right person for weeks. If you’ll follow me, please.” He led me behind the desk and through the door.

  We entered in a large room that had a bank of computer towers against one wall. A balding, bulky man who looked to be around thirty-five was manning that. A woman in her twenties or thirties was hunched over a separate computer, frowning at the monitor screen in front of her. Both were in jeans and sweaters, and I was relieved that I didn’t feel overdressed.

  “Guys, meet January Jaxson. She’s here to interview for the job,” Tad said. He pointed to a large metal desk in the corner. “Take a seat. Just grab a chair from over there.”

  I did as he asked, sitting down in front of the totally functional, totally unattractive metal desk. It looked like they had gotten their equipment from a second-hand office supply store and it occurred to me that this might be a volunteer job.

  “I have to ask, is this a paying gig? I don’t mean to sound snarky, but I can’t afford to volunteer right now.” Given the looks of the office, I had the feeling they were running on a shoestring. Oh, the computers looked like they had cost a fortune, but everything else had that air of “Can we get it for free?” about it.

  “Oh, it pays, don’t worry about that,” Tad said. He smiled and it totally altered the way he looked, making him appear much more approachable. His glasses—a throwback to John Lennon’s round granny glasses—and the polo shirt and jeans gave him the look of a first-class geek, in a cute sort of way. His hair was tousled and blond, and he reminded me of a kid straight out of college.

  “We pour most of our money into our payroll, our investigations, and our supplies and tech that we need, so the office is sparse, but it’s functional and that’s what matters. So, what do you know about Conjure Ink?” he asked.

  I frowned. I had taken a quick look at the website on my laptop, but hadn’t had the chance to study it in depth. “I’m going to be honest with you. I just moved back to Moonshadow Bay after years of living in Seattle. Like, just moved back yesterday. My friend heard about this job and she seemed to think I’d be a good fit. Her name is Ari Wheeler.”

  “Right, Ari. Well, I trust her instincts. So, writing’s your specialty?” Tad asked.

  I nodded. “I majored in journalism in college, and I built the Seattle Monitor of Art & Literature from the ground up. I actually founded it, but my ex-husband gained custody during the divorce proceedings.” I scowled. “If you call him, however, he’ll insist he did all the work, but it’s not true.”

  “Acrimonious parting, eh?” Tad asked.

  I nodded. “I wouldn’t mention it, except that magazine was my baby. I put all the work into it for the first year or two, and then he joined in and managed to squeeze me out of it. I spent over a dozen years building the circulation and writing most of the articles. At least he can’t go back and change my bylines, unless he digitalizes everything.” I reached in my tote bag and pulled out the file folder. “Here are my resume and clips of some of my best articles.” I handed the folder to him.

  He flipped through it, taking his time. After about ten minutes, he closed the folder and set it on the desk. “I believe you. You can really write. What are your connections to the paranormal?”

  “I’m a Fam-Trad witch. My great-grandfather was one of the founders of Moonshadow Bay,” I said. “My own powers passed down matrilineally, from my great-grandmother. That’s why I returned here to live.”

  He looked pleased. “Good. The fact that you’re both a witch and you can write solves two problems with one stone, so to speak. I need someone who works magic, as well as someone who can write. You see, there are two sides to Conjure Ink. The website is run as…think of it as an online encyclopedia of paranormal happenings from all over the western coast of Washington. However, to fund the research, we also hire out to clients who are loo
king for someone to take care of paranormal creepy-crawlies and to investigate—and at times, clear—hauntings. We’re seldom at a loss for clients, and we make more than enough to fund the research aspects of the company. I, myself, don’t take a salary. I’m independently wealthy and this is a passion of mine. So I funded the business at the start, and I pour all money back into the business, other than paying your salaries.”

  I blinked. So, this was more than a desk job. “What’s the job entail?”

  “Hank watches for reports that come in from around the area. We have a weekly meeting where we discuss whether there’s enough evidence to investigate the cases Hank finds, and then we go from there. When we are hired on by clients, we proceed like an investigation—check out the background of the story, then do walk-throughs, try to find what’s causing the problem unless it’s already known, and then deal with it. All of us are investigators, though sometimes we’ll take turns if the job isn’t big enough for everyone to go out on. Besides Hank and me, there’s Caitlin—she’s over at the desk right now, and Wren, who’s on vacation.”

  “So we cover all of Western Washington?”

  “Yes, including the peninsula. We’re one of a number of clearinghouses for paranormal information. A library of sorts. Since Conjure Ink covers Western Washington, you could end up traveling to Seattle or down to Vancouver, or out to Mount Rainier. There are other groups scattered all over the states that do the same kind of thing, and we’re all interconnected.”

  The job sounded more interesting by the minute. “What about expenses, like if I have to stay the night, or something?”

  “You pay for them, we reimburse you. Keep all receipts. While our office may look spartan, the fact is Conjure Ink takes in a lot of money and all employees receive a living wage. Salary here starts at fifteen hundred a week, with a six-month probation period, then it bumps up to eighteen hundred a week. We pay for fifty percent of your health insurance. After six months, you get one week off the first year, two weeks for the second year, and if you are with us three years, you’ll have three weeks off a year from then on. Two sick days a month. On days you’re not investigating, there’s always data entry and other work to do.” Tad rattled off the stats on his fingers.

  I looked around. The work sounded interesting, and it paid enough for me to live comfortably without dipping into my reserves.

  “All right, I’m interested.”

  “Good—I think you’ll fit. I may be human, but I have a sixth sense about people. Can you start tomorrow? We have a stack of cases in reserve.” Tad grinned and held out his hand. “Welcome aboard.”

  “I guess…I’m in.” As I shook his hand, I wondered just what I was getting myself into. But it was better than dishing up french fries and burgers.

  After I agreed to take the job, Tad introduced me to Caitlin and Hank. Caitlin not only kept the hardware going, but she also did preliminary research and helped out on investigations.

  “Welcome aboard. Good to have you here,” she said, shaking my hand perfunctorily before turning back to the computer she was taking apart. “Tad, we need a new sound card and I’m concerned about one of the hard drives. I’ll perform a diagnostic and let you know, and while I’m at it, I’m going to verify that we’ve backed up all the data on the drive to the server.”

  “Good. Let me know what we need and I’ll write up a purchase authorization.” Tad tapped Hank, who was still glued to the bank of computers. He had half a dozen monitors going and I wondered how he was able to focus on all of them. “Hank, meet January, our new investigator.”

  Hank glanced up from the screens and gave me a faint wave of the hand. “Yo,” was all he said before turning back to his work.

  I stared at him a moment. “What else does Hank do?”

  “Hank monitors the reports that come in. And he keeps in touch with a number of the other companies. We’re part of an umbrella organization I started, that offers membership to around ten other sites. It’s called Urban Legends, Inc. But we have no say over the other companies who belong to it, although we all share information.”

  I frowned. “Conjure Ink is a pretty complex company, isn’t it?” I was beginning to get the feeling it was far larger and more far-reaching than I had first thought.

  “Yep. We actually have ties with the government. Now that they’ve opened up about UFOs, we’re digging into those reports because a number of the sightings were located in the Pacific Northwest,” Hank explained. “Urban Legends runs a database that we all contribute to, and we all have access to.”

  Tad motioned to the empty desk in the corner. “You’ll work there. I’ll have a key made for you today. The key opens the front door, and then the door to this office. Wren usually mans the front desk, by the way. You’ll need to learn the security code. We have tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment here, and while we back up all our info to both the main server and to a backup database, we really don’t want to have to replace fifty thousand dollars’ worth of tech. So we keep a tight watch on the place. I will be running a background check, but from what you told me, I doubt if there will be a problem.”

  I grinned. “Depending on how petty my ex is, you might find a report that I torched his tuxedo and did a number on his convertible before I left. Given that he bilked me out of the company, well…I felt it was a fitting parting gift.”

  Tad snorted. “I’m not worried about domestic disputes, so no worries there.” He glanced at the clock. “I have a meeting coming up. Be here tomorrow, eight a.m. Wear comfortable clothes. I plan to have you out in the field by noon.”

  As I left, I couldn’t help but smile. The job still sounded a bit odd, but I was excited. I had loved the magazine, but this was something new. From what Tad had said, I didn’t expect to be bored, and I hadn’t expected decent perks like vacation time and insurance. Also, from what I had seen of them, I liked Tad, Caitlin, and Hank.

  Leaving the building, I glanced back at the modest sign on the door that read, conjure ink. Yeah, I could probably get used to working here.

  Chapter Five

  By the time I got home, it was five. I stood inside my door, suddenly realizing I had no clue what to do. I hadn’t formed a routine yet, I wasn’t acclimated to being back in Moonshadow Bay, and everything still seemed alien. I wasn’t hungry, given I had stopped on the way home to buy a caramel latte and a brownie to celebrate, and we had unpacked all my things, except for what I had bought today.

  “I’m not used to an empty house,” I said to myself, my voice echoing in the foyer. Even though I had come to loathe the sight of Ellison, having somebody else in the house made everything feel—different. I pulled out my phone and called Ari.

  “Hey, what are you up to?”

  “Just getting off work. How was your day?” I could hear her teeth chattering.

  “Are you outside?”

  “Trudging to my car. It’s going to snow again.”

  “I got the job. Conjure Ink hired me. I start tomorrow!” I wanted to celebrate something. It had been a long time since I’d had reason to celebrate. “Come over for dinner?”

  “Congrats! And sure, I’ll come over. I have to make one stop, though. What are we having?”

  “I haven’t a clue. I bought food this morning but I have no idea what I want.”

  “I’ll bring dinner and wine. See you in about half an hour.”

  As she hung up, it occurred to me that I needed to reacquaint myself with old friends. I couldn’t just lean on Ari all the time. While I had met Millie at the store, there were other people I knew from growing up, people who had never left. And I remembered some of them fondly.

  While I waited for Ari, I put the new sheets in the washer. Then I busied myself washing the new goblets and kitchen gadgets and tucking them away. Finally, I made a pot of coffee in case Ari wanted some, and pulled a couple shots of decaf for myself, adding milk, chocolate syrup, and peppermint syrup. Peppermint mocha…the perfect holiday drink.

>   Speaking of festive…I carried my mocha over to the trapezoid bench seat below the wide bay window. The cushion was a black and white gingham, and the three-sided bay window looked over the front lawn, out into the street. The rest of the houses on Fern Street were aglow with the wash of lights and decorations.

  “I should decorate,” I murmured to myself. Ellison always wanted “tasteful” displays—I used to needle him about being like Frasier Crane, with his snobbish view of what the holidays should look like. I celebrated Solstice, but he insisted on Christmas, although he was about as religious as a pumpkin. So I performed my rituals alone. But when it came to the decorations, he wanted pure white lights, gold and silver ornaments, an understated tree with a few ivory ribbons. Absolutely nothing flamboyant or colorful. The only outside decorations he had agreed to were a couple of wreaths.

  “That’s changing this year,” I whispered to myself, watching as the snow began to fall, captured by the street lamps. The cheerful houses up and down the street glowed in the snowfall, their multicolored lights and displays offering warmth in the winter night. Sipping my mocha, I felt a sudden sense of peace surround me, and leaned my head against the windowpane.

  Ari showed up a few minutes later with a bucket of chicken in one hand, bags containing mashed potatoes, gravy, and biscuits, and more, and a dozen roses. “These are for getting the job,” she said, shoving the bouquet of white and red roses into my arms. “I also have brownies and wine.”

  We fixed ourselves a couple of plates and settled onto the sofa with chicken, potatoes and gravy, and wine. I had found a vase for the roses and they sat prominently on top of the entertainment hutch that my parents had bought when I was eleven.