Sorcery and the Single Girl by Mindy Klasky

without mortar to form horizontal patterns under the moonlight. I could make out windows high above us, arcane designs cut into their wooden frames. I could see two—no, three—chimneys, rising into the midnight darkness. A walkway led around to our right, hinting at a doorway that remained out of sight.
    David led us down that path. I silently congratulated myself for choosing sandals, they were nearly silent on the flagstones, and I didn’t need to worry about turning an ankle in the dark. Neko stuck close behind me; I could hear his breath catch as he shifted the heavy book in his arms.
    When we rounded the corner, a low voice called, “Halt! Let all who would approach the Coven identify themselves and give good reason for their presence.”
    I blinked, and then I could make out a man in the shadows. A large man. A large man, wearing a dark cloak, despite the oppressive late-summer heat. A large man, wearing a cloak and holding a gleaming, naked sword.
    I almost ran back to the car.
    What had I been thinking? How had I let David drive me out here, miles from nowhere? Why hadn’t I realized that I might become the victim of a strange, sword-wielding cult?
    My story would be all over the newspapers and would fill the airwaves for weeks. Gran would put out a weeping appeal for my safe return. Even Clara would screw out a tear or two for the cameras. The tabloid press would interview my boss, who would say that she hadn’t noticed anything unusual prior to my disappearance. They’d shove microphones in front of Melissa, who would push past the paparazzi to get inside Cake Walk, where she would grimly turn the sign to Walk On By in an attempt to free herself from the media circus.
    “I am David Montrose, Warder of Hecate.” David’s voice resonated in the dark nook. He did not seem surprised by the man, did not seem the least bit startled by the sword. He intoned, “I bring with me a Daughter of Hecate, Jane Madison, who travels this path with her familiar.”
    “You may pass, Warder of Hecate.” The man stepped aside, lowering his sword a fraction of an inch. “Welcome, Daughter of Hecate, and be honored in our safehold.”
    I expected David to step to one side (hopefully, the side between me and the glimmering sword.) I thought that he would be a gentleman and let me walk before him. Instead, he squared his shoulders and raised his chin, striding past the armed guardian with only the faintest of acknowledging nods.
    As my warder stepped over the threshold and into the house, a silver tracing flared up on the ground. A five-pointed star spread on either side of the door. It was surrounded by a perfect circle, a circle that shimmered with magical force. I knew immediately that the pentagram was a protective field, a barrier even stronger than the man with the sword.
    David stepped through the glowing light, shuddering slightly until he reached the far side. He extended his hand, and I knew that I had no choice. He had brought me here because I had been summoned. He had told me that I would be safe.
    I stepped over the threshold.
    I felt the force field like an electric charge. It jolted up my neck, made me catch my breath, forced me to blink my eyes against a sudden light and then a crashing, terrifying darkness. Neko pressed close behind me, and I knew that he had passed through the pentagram as well.
    He wasn’t afraid, though. He was excited—alert and ready, attentive as he always was when we worked our magic. He was a cat, toying with a new mouse. He was charged, in his element.
    I shook my head and followed David through the foyer and into the house.
    The hallway opened onto the largest room I’d ever seen in a residence. The space was divided into a half-dozen conversation areas, elegant groupings of chairs and love seats (alas, no davenports belonging to the Countess of Wessex, as near as I could tell) that encouraged quiet, earnest discussion. A variety of tables was scattered about, sporting enough