The Awakening by Heather Graham

the Druids, and guess what else? Historically, Druids did believe in blood sacrifices.”
    She sighed with exasperation. “And the Catholics created the Inquisition!”
    He gritted his teeth—absolutely determined on patience. “True,” he said evenly. “Look, I’m just trying to tell you that it’s really kind of a two-pronged thing. I absolutely believe that there are people practicing witchcraft today who do honor the earth, believe in the power of goodness, and may be among the finest, most giving people in the entire world. But you’ve got to admit that—whether twisted or not!—people have used the practice of magic in other ways. Whether there really is such a thing as magic—white or black—I sure as hell don’t know. But it gets back to the main point. The tenets of most religions are very good. They teach us respect, peace, and kindness. But any idiot out there today knows that any religion can be twisted to create terror. I meant what I said. I think Salem is wonderful, just as all the charming towns are that surround it. It’s an incredible place to visit, and Halloween here is . . . enchanting. I swear to you that I’m not speaking about anyone in particular—especially not your relatives—when I make the simple statement that places are not evil, only people can be evil. Okay?”
    Had she been that defensive? Still staring at him somewhat perplexed, she nodded.
    Then, as she sat there, a flare of panic seized her.
    They had to get out.
    They had to get away.
    If they didn’t . . .
    â€œWant dessert?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDid you want dessert? Or should I get the check?”
    â€œWe never eat dessert.”
    â€œWe can never afford dessert,” he said, jiggling his eyebrows. “But we’re making a fortune for very little effort in this incredibly charming place! So . . . ?”
    â€œLet’s split something.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhatever you’d like.”
    â€œNope, this is your neck of the woods. You choose dessert.”
    Oddly, she still felt defensive. As if she didn’t want to be the cause of being here. “Un-huh. We’re here because you got the gig. You choose dessert.”
    â€œAll right, then. Something gooey and decadent. Chocolate and gooey and decadent. Covered with whipped cream. Slathered in it. Richly. All over.”
    She laughed. He’d made every word entirely sensual.
    â€œDid you want dessert? Or sex?”
    He leaned back, shrugging. She was surprised that her words seemed to bring out something defensive in him. “Sex—with Fallon monitoring the halls? After last night? The old buzzard would probably be at the keyhole.”
    She sighed, folding her arms on the table, looking down at them. It was going to be a long time before she lived down last night.
    She looked up at him again, forcing her jaw to unclench. “Great. Well, here’s to a mini working vacation. Sexless,” she added, lifting her water glass toward him.
    â€œHey, don’t be silly. There are all kinds of dark nooks and crannies around the town,” he said lightly. Except that his words weren’t light. They were dark, with an underlying anger as well.
    â€œI don’t think I want dessert,” she said abruptly, rising. “Ask for the check; I’ll be right outside.”
    She noticed her own wrist as she spoke, since her hand rested on the table. She frowned, deeply dismayed to note that her bracelet was gone.
    â€œI lost it!” she murmured.
    â€œWhat?” Finn asked.
    â€œThe claddagh bracelet my dad gave me.”
    â€œYou’re sure you were wearing it?”
    She nodded glumly. “It’s Irish good luck, you know. And a gift from Dad. I don’t know why—it seemed important to wear it today.”
    â€œAll right, well, don’t panic yet. We’ll retrace our steps. Hopefully, somebody found it. Maybe