Sweep in Peace (Innkeeper Chronicles, #2)

by Ilona Andrews

The magic of the inn connected with mine, restless. The inn was nervous too. The posts and the roof were a new addition the inn had grown on its own. I hadn’t realized it, but I had developed a habit of walking out onto the back patio, which used to be a concrete slab, and watching the trees. Sometimes I would bring a folding chair out and read. The Texas sun knew no mercy, and after I burned for the second time by staying out a minute or two too long, the inn took the matters into its own hands and sprouted stone and wood porch posts and a roof. It also replaced the concrete slab with pretty flagstone, and I wasn’t sure where the inn had gotten it. “It will be fine,” I murmured to the house, stroking the wood with the tips of my fingers. The inn’s magic leaned against me, reassured. “It will,” George said. He stood next to me wearing the same outfit as this morning, but now he also held a cane with an ornate top, a dark wood inlaid with twisted swirls of silver. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a knife in it. He’d also developed a mysterious limp. It appeared the Arbitrator liked to be underestimated.

:)