He turned to leave, and I reached after him with a sudden thought. “Hey, you still have my largest spell pot, don’t you?” We’d used it for making chili three weeks ago for a Dirty Harry marathon at his place, and I’d never brought it back.

He hesitated, his hand on the door latch. “You need it?”

“Edden is making me take a ley line class,” I said, not wanting to tell him that I was working on the witch hunter murders. Not yet. I wasn’t going to ruin that kiss with an argument. “I need a familiar or the witch will flunk me. That means the big spell pot.”

“Oh.” He was silent, and I wondered if he was going to figure it out anyway. “Sure,” he said slowly. “Tonight soon enough?” When I nodded, he added, “Okay. See you then.”

“Thanks, Nick. ’Bye.” Pleased I had wrangled a promise to see him tonight, I pushed the door open, stopping halfway when a masculine voice called out in protest. I looked to find Glenn on the stoop, juggling three sacks of fast food and a tray of drinks.

“Glenn!” I exclaimed, reaching for the drinks. “There you are. Come on in. This is Nick, my boyfriend. Nick, this is Detective Glenn.” Nick my boyfriend. Yeah, I liked that.

Shifting the sacks to one hand, Glenn extended his hand. “How do you do,” he said formally, still outside. He was dressed in a sharp-looking gray suit, making Nick’s casual clothes seem untidy. My eyebrows rose at Nick’s hesitation before shaking Glenn’s hand. I was positive it was because of Glenn’s FIB badge. Don’t want to know. Don’t want to know.

“Nice to meet you,” Nick said, then turned to me. “I’ll, uh, see you tonight, Rachel.”

“ ’Kay. ’Bye.” It sounded a bit forlorn even to me, and Nick shifted from foot to foot before leaning forward to give me a kiss on the corner of my mouth. I thought it was more to prove his boyfriend status than any attempt to show affection. Whatever.

Sneakers silent, Nick hastened down the steps to his salt-rusted blue pickup at the curb. I felt a wash of worry at his hunched shoulders and stilted pace. Glenn, too, was watching, but his expression was more curious than anything else.

“Come on in,” I repeated as I eyed the sacks of food and shifted the door wider.

Glenn took his sunglasses off, one hand tucking them into the inner breast pocket of his suit. With his athletic build and tidy beard, he looked like a pre-Turn Secret Service guy. “That’s Nick Sparagmos?” he asked as Nick drove away. “The one who was a rat?”