My butcher shop smelled of iron and chilled meat, a clean, sharp scent I' d known my whole life.
Most people in this small town saw me, Lisa, as the butcher with the pretty face and strange eyes. They whispered, but I didn' t care.
Whispers don' t pay the bills, but a new client' s offer of twenty thousand dollars as a deposit for an "Underworld Matchmaker" job certainly did. Two hundred thousand more upon completion. It was enough to change my life.
The job: perform a ritual for her supposedly deceased son, Alexander Dubois, to secure his family' s spiritual line and fortune.