The house was old, and now that I was getting a better look at it, not well-maintained. Upstairs, the carpet was thinning, and the pictures hanging in the open hallway overlooking the vestibule were so ancient they probably came with the house. The paint above the wainscoting was that icky green popular before the Turn, and it looked repulsive. Someone with little imagination had used it to cover the eight-inch floorboards carved with ivy and hummingbirds, and I spared a pained thought at the grandeur hidden behind ugly paint and synthetic fibers.

“Mr. Saladan,” Candice said in explanation as she opened a black-varnished door. Her smile was catty, and I followed David in, keeping my eyes down when I passed her. I held my breath, praying that she couldn’t tell it was me, hoping she wouldn’t come in. But why would she? Lee was an expert in ley line magic. He didn’t need protection from two Weres.

It was a good-sized office done in oak paneling. High ceilings and the thick framework about the tall block of windows was the only evidence that the room had started out as a bedroom before becoming an office. Everything else had been covered and disguised with chrome and light oak that was only a few years old. I was a witch; I could tell.

The windows behind the desk went to the floor, and the low sun spilled in over Lee as he rose from his desk chair. A bar cart was in one corner, and an entertainment center took up most of the opposite wall. Two comfortable chairs were arranged before his desk, leaving one ugly one in a far corner. There was a huge wall mirror and no books. My opinion of Lee hit rock bottom.

“Mr. Hue,” Lee said warmly as he extended his tanned hand over the expanse of the modern-looking desk. His suit coat was hanging from a nearby hat tree, but he had at least snugged his tie up. “I’ve been expecting you. Sorry about the mix-up downstairs. Candice can be protective at times. You can understand, seeing as boats seem to be exploding around me.”

David chuckled, sounding a little like a dog. “Not a problem, Mr. Saladan. I won’t take much of your time. It’s a courtesy call to let you know how your claim is being processed.”

Smiling, Lee held his tie to himself and sat, indicating we should do the same. “Can I get you a drink?” he asked as I settled myself in the supple leather chair and put my briefcase down.

“No, thank you,” David said.