I opened another drawer – the only one which had been locked when I moved in – and took out the iron key I’d found there. It matched the one that I’d used to free Liam from his manacles. At some point long ago, Dahlia had locked the key away. She had broken her tie with the incubus.

Surely I had broken my tie with Liam when I unlocked his manacles and left the key behind in Faerie. But then why did the place on my breastbone where the key had lain feel as empty as my house?

And how much emptier would my life be if the Grove was able to close the door and my friends chose to leave Fairwick.

Feeling rather desolate, I got up from my desk, checked the drawer where I’d put the Aelvestone just to make sure I remembered where it was, then went into the bathroom to run a much needed bath. I put in the plug and turned on the hot water tap all the way. I’d learned that there was just enough hot water in the boiler to fill up the massive claw foot tub. The water would start to cool when the tub was about half full and then mix with the hot, attaining the perfect temperature by the time the tub was filled. I’d thought of buying a bigger water tank – Brock had said that the one I had was pretty old and would need to be replaced eventually – but it seemed like a needless expense when the only one using the hot water was me.

While the bath filled I peeled off my grimy and odiferous dress, dropped it into the sink, ran water and added scented shampoo to get the smell out. I brushed my hair, working out the tangles – and a few twigs – and rubbed in a little jojoba oil to condition it. I added some to the bathwater as well. Seeing Lura’s wrinkled skin – even if she did look damned good for a hundred – had reminded me of the necessity of moisturizing.

When the bath was full I turned off the tap and, with a shivery sense of anticipation, stepped in … to ice cold water. Squealing, I plucked my foot out so quickly I teetered and nearly fell. Another opportunity to crack my skull, I thought, grabbing my robe and wrapping it around me. I studied the taps and turned the one clearly marked hot. More ice cold water poured into the tub.

Something was wrong with the hot water heater.

I put on flip flops and stormed down the stairs, my rubber heels slapping angrily as if they were mad at the house, not me. Why did it have to pick now to misfunction? I knew Brock had kept the old place in pristine condition, but was it really so sensitive that it had to start falling apart the minute Brock wasn’t here?

By the time I reached the basement stairs I’d calmed down a little. It was petty of me to make a fuss about some minor home repair problem when Brock lay in a deathlike coma, his spirit struggling in the icy fogs of Niflheim.