Candace found me one afternoon, on a day she’d finished up early. I was reading on the porch, trying with mixed luck to get into a book I’d recently checked out. I hadn’t actually used a library in years, but with all my free time, now had seemed like a good time to try to get back into the habit. They helped break up the time when I wasn’t working on jigsaw puzzles, which were another old and neglected hobby.

“I was wondering if you could help me out with something,” she said, wiping sweat off her brow. The drought hadn’t lifted, which also drove me crazy. Charles worked diligently to keep his garden watered and alive, and I had to rein myself in from using magic to help him out. I would’ve gladly assisted with the manual labor instead, but he wouldn’t allow that in my “state.”

At her words, a brief surge of hope flared within me. Maybe she wanted me to come help her with a case! Then, as quickly as the thought had come, I promptly dismissed it. I was fairly certain Roland had made it emphatically clear that I was not to assist under any circumstances, and Candace was protective enough to uncompromisingly adhere to that.

“What do you need?” I asked. I racked my brain for any household tasks that needed tending but could think of none that were low-key enough for me to be allowed to do.

“Business is picking up,” she said. “And I’m getting lots of calls and e-mails. It’s hard for me to keep up with them. Charles tries, but he doesn’t always know enough to tell what’s a priority and what’s not.”

A secretary. She wanted me to be her secretary. I was so dumbfounded that I could make no response.

Uncomfortable with my silence, she added, “I figured with your experience, you’d be able to sort everything out and schedule it the right way.”

“Of course,” I said at last. “Whatever you need.”

My acceptance came more from a sense of obligation to this woman who’d done so much for me than any real desire for clerical work. Don’t get me wrong—I respected that trade immensely. Back in Tucson, I’d had an administrative assistant named Lara. Her witty personality was enough to make me miss her, but she’d also been amazing at sorting out the day-to-day details of my life and job. Yet, as awesome as I felt she was, my own pride was hurt at being downgraded to phone calls and e-mail. I was one of the most powerful shamans around. I could do things that most of my peers couldn’t ... but this was what I’d been reduced to.

“I know it’s not ideal,” she said gently. “But I think it’s something you’d be good at.”