“I don’t know,” answered Adam from the back seat. “One second he was drowsing on the couch to the dulcet sounds of the spinning wheel, the next he was up and out the door.”

“Maybe he’s just off to pick up take-out Chinese or something,” muttered Isabelle.

“If so, he’s in a big hurry.” Thomas made a hard left, causing her to grab the armrest for support.

It was much harder to follow someone in real life than in the movies. The follower had to keep a respectable distance behind the followee, while avoiding the traffic and stoplights that could easily cause a separation.

They followed him to a large building in one of the north-western suburbs of Chicago. Staying well behind him, so as not to draw attention to themselves, they parked a good distance away in the large lot, concealing their vehicle behind some trees.

Alexander guided his Volvo into one of the parking spots in the overflow lot, near a blue SUV. Then he waited. He’d chosen an isolated place, with few cars or buildings nearby. It was far past the end of the normal workday.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” murmured Isabelle. “Is Alexander stalking someone here? Someone working after hours, maybe?”

“Like maybe the owner of that blue SUV?” Adam added.

“Adam, call Micah and see if we know of any witches who work at six hundred and one Amberlyn Drive,” said Thomas in a low voice.

Adam flipped his cell phone open and talked with Micah in a muted whisper. He snapped his phone closed. “No one on record, but that doesn’t mean much.”

Not every witch registered with the Coven informed them of job changes and many witches weren’t registered at all. They lived in the world like a non-magickal. Some witches didn’t even know they were witches. Thomas’s cousin Mira Hoskins hadn’t known she was a witch until some warlocks had tried to snatch her to use in a demon circle.

They watched and waited until twilight tinged the sky myriad colors, shades of orange and red, then darkened from gloriousness into murk. Finally, footsteps sounded on the pavement. A middle-aged woman with short brown hair, dressed in business attire and carrying a briefcase, made her way across the parking lot toward the SUV. A girl of maybe seven years held her hand.

“They’re witches,” said Thomas. “I can feel it from here, two earth witches of middling power, mother and daughter.”

Isabelle’s breathing hitched and her hand curled around the door handle as the two figures disappeared momentarily behind the stand of trees that shielded their car from Alexander’s view. “I really don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“Alexander could be her boyfriend,” said Adam from the back.

“Yes, but he could be stalking them, too.”