Darkness Bound by Stella Cameron

with products in various stages of completion. Thin shiny leather, pigskin, suede, heavy silk, feathers, spools of gold chain. There was too much to take in.
    Leigh slapped a hand over her heart—little twinklingpurple lights had popped on among the vines and branches, probably thousands of them. And they twinkled to the accompaniment of what sounded like chipmunks singing in Latin. Or was it “Greensleeves,” but distorted by the nuts in their cheeks?
    She shook her head and turned to walk out.
    Jazzy wasn’t leaving. He sat, transfixed, his chin raised to stare at a doll-sized four-poster bed heaped with small, soft blankets.
    “C’mon, Jazzy,” she said. “Let’s go.”
    The dog’s response was to loll his tongue from his mouth and pant happily. He stood up and whined.
    From the nest of little blankets, a head appeared, a silvery-gray head with long whiskers and pointed ears with small tufts on the ends. In a smooth movement the smallest cat Leigh had ever seen emerged and sat with its paws in a precise row and a tail twice as long as its body curled in a tight circle around it. Silver all over with violet eyes, it transfixed Leigh. She got a prickling sensation up her spine. The cat was irresistible. Leigh had to reach out a hand.
    The cat closed its eyes and purred gently while allowing herself to be stroked.
    Jazzy whined louder and the cat jumped down to sniff him thoroughly. Jazzy grinned while the cat scooted to settle on top of his front paws.
    “That’s weird,” Leigh muttered, the spine prickles intensifying.
    “Leigh! I thought you might be coming but then I wasn’t sure I didn’t have my days all muddled up.”
    She would have recognized that hoarse voice anywhere and swung around. “Sally? What are you doinghere?” The second half of Gabriel’s kitchen staff slid from an opening in the vines.
    “And Skillywidden,” Sally cooed to the cat, ignoring Leigh’s question. “Jazzy is every bit as special as we know he is. Skillywidden is a perfect judge of character—unless she’s protecting the weak. Everyone should keep their distance then. She has adopted Jazzy and he knows he is blessed. She will always look after him.”
    “That’s nice,” Leigh said. “She’s still a kitten, isn’t she?”
    Fluttering her hands, Sally said, “I’ve had her for years. I have no idea how old she is.”
    “I see.”
Whoa, she and Jazzy had gone through the looking glass.
    “Gabriel didn’t tell me it was you who ran this shop.”
    “He doesn’t know,” Sally said, fixing Leigh with a penetrating stare. “It would be better if he didn’t find out. Would that be all right?”
    “I guess. But Cliff knows?”
    Sally’s gaze didn’t waver. “No. I gave him that card you have there and said I’d make sure you were expected here. I’m sure you understand it’s a good idea to keep two very different sides of my life separate. Most people don’t understand any of this.” She raised her hands to indicate the shop. “Do you?”
    Hesitating, Leigh looked around again. “Probably not, but I really like it. And I believe people have a right to privacy when they want it.”
    “Oh, good,” Sally said, her voice rasping excitedly. “I own the place. Live upstairs. I never see someone I know from Gabriel’s because this wouldn’t be their cup of tea. Apart from my regulars, only a few tourists come in—and they go right back out most of the time.”
    Leigh swallowed. “It’s lovely.”
    Sally’s figure wasn’t shown to advantage by a floor-length pleated red robe with butterfly sleeves—and tiny white butterflies stamped all over. The gauzy fabric clung to all sorts of places probably better not clung to.
    She let out a great sigh. “I know it’s lovely. But it’s working for Gabriel that lets me keep my home,” she said. “Every amateur theater, children’s play class, May Day Parade, Solstice celebration, fairy gathering, or what have you comes to me for their costumes. Masks and