The Dead (The Thaumaturge Series Book 1) by Cal Matthews

stylish rather than tacky. His black wool coat looked like something a TV lawyer might wear and somehow the scarf around his neck didn’t seem hipster at all. His hair was dark, too; not Leo's Spanish curls but little black twists that stuck an inch off his head. His face looked like it was made for smiling. He was more handsome than the usual visitor to my store, for sure, with lovely high cheekbones and large, cat-slanted eyes the exact color of jade.
    It wasn't the look of him that made all my spidey-senses tingle, though. It was something that floated in the air around him, something not visible but tangible enough that my astral antennae started twitching. I supposed it was what people called an aura. I had never seen one before, not around a living person anyway.
    “Hi,” he said, giving me a friendly, dazzling smile that faded as his eyebrows drew together. “You’re open? This is okay?”
    For a second, I was dumbstruck, just staring at him, unconcerned with the others, though they must have been watching.
    “Yeah,” I managed.
    “Great,” he said, stepping forward and holding out his hand. “I'm Marcus.”
    I hesitated; I didn't want to touch the energy coming off of him. The pause went on too long and his smile faltered. He let his hand drop and glanced at the bald man with uncertainty.
    “I'm Ebron,” I said, coughing into my fist to cover my embarrassment. “What are you guys looking for?”
    Marcus’s smile recovered. “We’re just in town for a few days and the guy at the motel told us about your shop.”
    Fucking Bryler.
    “Oh, okay,” I said, as though he had answered my question. Feeling awkward, and distracted by the loveliness of his mouth, I gave a jerky wave, indicating the room. “Well, let me know if you need help.”
    “We do,” The bald man replied quickly. “We’re looking for some very specific items. That's why I was so glad to hear of you.”
    “Oh?” I said again. “What's that then?”
    He gazed at me levelly for a moment, and I was aware of weird, pushing sensation against me, a feeling of probing and exploration. At the same time, I watched the other witches – the two women– break off and wander deeper into the store, leaving me alone with the men. I froze, bristling under the man’s sharp gaze. I didn’t know what he was doing to me, what measures he was taking. I had no idea what they were capable of, so I just endured the scrutiny, glaring in turn at each of them.
    “My name’s Jim,” the bald man said to me. He nodded to the first guy, the twitchy one with the fucking fedora. “This is Corvin. Morgan and Shaina.”
    Politely, I nodded to the two women examining the tea infusers. One of them, a round, dark haired girl, gave me a bashful smile. The other, a stern looking redhead, didn’t react.
    “What did you say your name was?” Jim continued, peering at me curiously.
    “Ebron,” I said irritably. “Look, what do you guys need?”
    Corvin gave me a challenging glare, his lip curled like he wanted to smirk at me, but at the last second he turned abruptly and walked away. Jim fished into his coat and pulled out a slip of paper.
    “Here,” he said, handing it to me. “Marcus, why don’t you help with that? I want to look around.” He clapped Marcus on the shoulder, and went to join the rest of them.
    “Sorry,” Marcus said quietly, stepping closer to me. He looked at me intently and I found myself looking back, staring into his eyes in a way that seemed terribly forward, dangerous even, for a man trying to stay hidden. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen eyes so pretty. A guy could get lost in those eyes. He wet his lips with his tongue, and my eyes leapt down to his mouth, then back up, painfully aware of how he could have interpreted that.
    “Are you . . . Wiccan?” he asked softly, with some reservation. I didn't think that that was what he meant to ask.
    “Huh? No. Oh, Wiccan? No, I'm not.” I blushed, and desperate for any