Dance in the Dark by Megan Derr Page A

down the victim. Forcing apparitions was hard work, however, even for a talented sorcerer. For a witch, it would be even more difficult.
    Johnnie took another sip of his vodka, then another, before he stood up. "Let us go see your home, then."
    "What—" Micah cut himself off and only nodded, finishing his beer, then stood and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. He shrugged into it, then said, "Of course. I live about five blocks away."
    Johnnie nodded and strode to where his own jacket and coat hung, pulling them on and then going to the bar to fetch his journal. 
    "You don't mind walking, do you?" Micah asked.
    "Not at all," Johnnie replied.
    "I'm coming, too," the imp said. "No way should you be trusting another fucking noble, Micah. I don't trust him."
    Johnnie smiled, slow and razor sharp, then said, "To stop a demon, ask another demon." It was part of an old abnormal saying, in reference to the more powerful supernaturals. The entire phrase went, "To stop a werewolf, get a witch/To stop a witch, get a sorcerer/To stop a sorcerer, get a vampire/To stop a vampire, get a dragon/To stop a dragon, get a demon/To stop a demon, get another demon."
    "You're a normal," the imp said scathingly.  "Suits and manners and arrogance don't make you abnormal. I want to know what does make you abnormal, and makes you think you should be here at all."
    "Tell me thy company, and I'll tell thee what thou art," Johnnie said. "I am what I am, accept it or not. Your opinion means nothing to me. Micah, let us go."
    Nodding, Micah led the way out and then north five blocks, until they were well out of the city and into the outlying townhouses. He stopped in front of a house that was blue and white, complete with a white picket fence, a pretty little stone path leading up to the house, lined with rosebushes the entire way.
    Johnnie eyed all the flowers thoughtfully, pausing on the stone path leading up to the house. "You said you had protections on the house?"
    "Yes," Micah replied. "It's perfectly safe—"
    "What of the yard?" Johnnie asked.
    "No," Micah replied. "Not really. It's damned hard work, maintaining wards and all outside. The only things I've done out here are spells to help Lisa's roses."
    Johnnie smirked, and indicated the rosebushes lining either side of the walkway. "Once upon a time there were three women who were cursed, turned into flowers in a field. Over time, though, one of them was able to return to her own home at night. Then, one night, shortly before she had to return to the field before daybreak, she told her husband that if he came and picked her that afternoon, she would be forever free of the curse.
    "And so that afternoon, the husband went to the field and looked upon the three flowers. They were in every way exactly alike. After a moment, the husband picked one of the flowers, and then he took his wife home."
    Looking over his shoulder, Johnnie said to Micah and the imp, "The question is, how did he know which flower was his wife?"
    They looked at him as though he had lost his mind, and Johnnie laughed softly. Cupping one of the roses on the bush which had caught his eye, he bent to smell it. The faintest hints of magic tickled his nose. "It rained heavily last night. I remember the sound of it, starting when I went to bed at eleven. When I first woke up at one-thirty, I could still hear it, but by the time I got out of bed after two, it had stopped. Yesterday's weather report said that it stormed here. These rosebushes all show signs of it—broken stems, strewn leaves, the soil in which they are planted is still quite damp even now, and in the curls of petals where the sun cannot reach, water remains. Except this one bush; it looks as though it has not been affected by anything for days."
    He released the rose he held, and turned to face Micah. "Someone turned your wife into a rosebush, which is clever. It could have been done so quickly, no one would have noticed a thing, and being so close to the