An elf stood at the door to my bakery. Well, actually, it was Bryn’s and my bakery, but still … an elf.

In Whistler.

I mean, I expected this sort of thing in Vancouver. But if you weren’t into outdoor sports involving snow, then Whistler was a pricey destination in the winter months. Plus, the village and the municipality around it were both seriously lacking in the magical department.

Or at least they had been.

In less than an hour, I was hosting a grand opening for Cake in a Cup Too. And I was pretty damn magical. Also, still not much of a wordsmith when it came to naming things. Plus Bryn, not being magically inclined herself, had unwittingly staffed the bakery with at least one skinwalker — Maia Thomas, an Adept who could cloak herself in the form of a chosen animal. In her case, a raven. And just for good measure, I’d dragged a telepath along to help pass out free mini-cupcakes to potential customers.

The elf caught my eye and smiled.

Smiled.

And despite the rows of sharp, shark-like teeth she displayed, I briefly believed she was genuinely pleased to see me. A dense crowd of shoppers and skiers crossed back and forth through the retail square behind her — all of whom were nonmagicals. I could tell that with utter certainty because the new bakery wasn’t warded. Unfortunately, despite the lack of shielding magic between us, I also couldn’t taste any power from the elf. That was unnerving.

Her long hair, pale to the point of being practically white, flowed gracefully over her shoulders and halfway down her back. Simple braids twisted back from her temples, exposing ears that were indeed slightly pointed. As with vampires and werewolves, the fantastical depictions of elves in nonmagical culture were obviously rooted to some degree in the truth, perhaps from the earliest encounters between Adepts and humans. 

This particular elf had a pale, iridescent complexion with a subtle green undertone. If I’d been closer, I knew that iridescence would have revealed itself as finely scaled skin that was currently picking up light reflected from the bakery’s floor-to-ceiling front windows. The elf was easily six feet tall, wearing the cutest baby-blue puffy winter jacket and skinny-legged jeans tucked into calf-hugging polished black boots. She had the same sharp features as the warrior I’d faced in a park in Vancouver three months before. But with her significantly smaller frame — that first elf had been even taller than Warner — she came off as delicate. More feminine, somehow.

Based on my limited experience and the few ancient tomes detailing historic clashes with elves that I’d read since the previous September, I had the distinct feeling that regardless of how graceful, even elegant, she appeared, the elf likely packed a punch. Thankfully, the same went for me. Though standing five foot nine inches and endowed with ample assets, ‘delicate’ or ‘elegant’ weren’t adjectives that had ever been applied to me.

The elf also had a massive gemstone embedded in her forehead. The gem was a slightly darker tint of her skin tone and appeared to be surrounded by a simple raised design that followed the edges of the stone.

It bothered me that with nothing but twenty feet and some triple-paned glass between us, I couldn’t taste her magic. Because that was my thing, my advantage. The thing I was supposed to do better than anyone else. The thing that made me special, made me THE DOWSER in all caps.

Elves, it seemed, were very skilled at masking their power. Either that or I wasn’t particularly attuned to their magic because they came from another dimension. But since the elf standing just beyond the bakery door was only the second one I’d ever encountered, I didn’t have enough experience to draw a conclusion either way. Still, it was better all around for the very vulnerable humans meandering through the center of Whistler Village that she wasn’t doing anything that would have allowed me to taste her power.

Speaking of magic, Peggy Talbot paused a few steps beyond the door that led back into the kitchen, just on the edge of my peripheral vision. The willowy blond was dressed similarly to me in jeans, a brown Cake in a Cup T-shirt, and a white ruffled apron. She was also carrying a large tray of mini Chill in a Cup — mint-chocolate cake with mint-chocolate buttercream. The telepath had frozen at the sight of the elf. Her blackberry-jam-infused power swirled around her.

Well, it was always good to know I wasn’t seeing things.

The elf’s green-eyed gaze flicked to Peggy, then returned to me. Her smile became challenging. Then she beckoned. Her slim fingers were tipped with thick nails that were only slightly too short to be called claws. The gesture was meant to be enticing, but I wasn’t that easily fooled. Too many big bad monsters with sharp teeth had a habit of seeing me as a little snack that would tide them over on their way to taking over the universe.

Yeah, I wasn’t feeling at all dramatic.

COMING JUNE 28, 2018

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Are you new to the Adept Universe? Book one is Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1).

Click here for the reading order of the Adept Universe.