"Your dust." Striker sneered. "Your oh-so-favorable blue dust has been collected by a human. If it falls into the wrong hands, do you understand what will happen? Everything that has been held secret for eons will be lost because you have a dusting problem."

Oh, crap.

As a child, he'd had a problem with his dust. Whenever he got excited or angry, he'd sprinkle dust where he flew or stood. Beyond a few occurrences recently, he'd thought he'd conquered it years ago. How had someone gotten it? Did they even know what it was?

"I didn't know," Shade whispered.

But that was a lie. He did know. Just that morning, he'd seen a sprinkle of his dust flowing on the wind and thought nothing of it.

My God. What have I done?

"We know you didn't," said Agnes, the sole female member of the council. Her piercing blue eyes filled with understanding.

Of all the council members, Shade liked her best.

"But," Agnes continued, "you must fix it, Shade. Finish it. Find your dust and reclaim it before someone finds out what it is. We don't have the power to wipe the memories of an incidence such as this from a human's mind as we once did. The humans don't believe anymore. Because they don't, we've lost our ability to shield ourselves the way we should."

Shade nodded, sadness and frustration setting root.

"I will fix this," Shade promised. "You have my word."

The council nodded and dismissed him. With a glance toward Ambrose, Shade left the room, his best friend on his heels.

The two friends didn't speak once they reached the end of the balcony. They simply jumped off the edge, their wings catching the wind, and flew toward another mountaintop. Shade needed time to think. To calculate.

He was damned fine at his job. Strong and fierce. Yet a childhood problem of dusting could take down a civilization. He would have laughed at the ridiculousness of that statement if it hadn't been true.

They landed, their feet settling on the soil. Shade looked behind him at the place he called home. They didn't live in heaven because they weren't godly angels, far from it. He wasn't even sure there was a heaven beyond their time. Their world was in the same realm as the humans, but it was tucked away in a pocket of space between two mountain ranges, hidden from the eyes of the unknown.

A few raindrops fell from the sky before turning to a slight mist. The other angels who were at a lower altitude flew to the safety of their homes, the rain beginning to weigh heavy on their wings. Only the strongest could fly in anything more than mist, another reason they didn't live on clouds, as most humans seemed to believe. One flight through a dense cloud could be dangerous; the moisture seeped into their feathers and threatened to drag the angel down. Without sufficient muscular back strength, the angel would plummet.

Most didn't. Despite the vast strength they possessed, angels were weak in some respects.

"Are you going to stand there in the rain and watch others while everything falls around you, or are you going to fix this?" Ambrose's deep voice cut through his thoughts, and Shade turned toward him.

Tall with white blond hair pulled back from his pale face in a braid, with white, almost crystal wings, Ambrose was the light to Shade's dark. Yet, the colors masked the personality, for where Shade saw the humor and light in some things, his best friend was the dark, the edge to the blade. Shade, too, held his own fury; he just didn't show it as often.

Dangerous and agile, his mentor had taught him everything he knew. Shade lowered his head in shame. He'd failed.

"You didn't fail, Shade," Ambrose whispered.

"I didn't say that aloud." Ambrose was always doing that. He was practically a mind reader "You didn't have to. We all leave trails of angel dust. You are no different from others except that you leave greater quantities. It's not something to be shameful of."

"I beg to differ."

"It's only different this time because it got into the hands of a human. I'm worried how it got there, which is why I was in the room when you came in."

Intrigued, Shade lifted his head. "What are you saying?"

Ambrose shrugged. "I don't know yet. Something just seems off to me, but I will work on finding out."

"Okay, what else do you know?"

"Only that the dust may be in the hands of a woman."

"A woman?" Interesting.

The motorcycle vibrated beneath Shade as he pulled off the side of the road and parked. The rain pelted him, the cold seeping into his bones, but he shrugged it off. He was in northern Washington, and this seemed to be the norm in terms of weather.

He lifted his leg and got off the bike, ignoring the stares of the women around him. They watched him stroll, his powerful legs leading to long strides. He'd tucked his wings into the slits in his back to hide the fact he was an angel, but he couldn't hide his face or the fact that women seemed to fawn over it.

It had been a long time since he had a woman, not since that jaguar shifter a century or two before on a night of deep depression and loneliness. But the heat, claws, and desperation had served to fill only a physical need that left him even lonelier than before. From that moment on, he left his carnal needs up to his hand. Before the jaguar, it had been even longer, but he didn't want to think about her. The one he'd lost. She was long since gone.

Shade walked into a nearby cafe, the smells of baked goods and coffee filling his nose. He ordered a small coffee then went back to sit at a table near the window so he could watch those who passed by. A male pixie, in human form, walked in front of the window and nodded toward him. There were so many supernatural beings hidden from view in the world that Shade couldn't even count them.

All humans were diluted forms of supernaturals. For millennia, the supernaturals had bred with one another and mixed the species until, finally, their powers had dwindled in most, and they stopped believing in things that came out of fairy tales. Those with so little non-human blood running their veins that they seemed ordinary were now called humans, although each had at least something beyond human lying dormant in their DNA.

Council did not identify the name of the human who collected the dust, but Ambrose told Shade it was about to be in the hands of a woman who lived and worked nearby. Her name was Lily.

Who was this Lily? Shade wanted to get a look at her. She had the answers. She possessed the reason behind his shame: his blue dust.

A woman with expressive emerald-green eyes passed by the window; a slight smile graced her face, and she had those side-swoopy bangs women loved so much. She was of average height and held delicious curves. He looked over every inch of her-a small waist, large, perfect breasts to fit his palms, slightly wide hips that would serve well when he gripped them, and sexy legs beneath the hem of her brown coat...

Lily.

That had to be her. He didn't know how he knew, but he was sure of it.

His groin tightened.

She was human. Not a lick of anything else came from her. Yet, why did he want her so from just a look? He'd never looked at a human this way before. Why now? Was it because she might be the one who held his dust?

Lily stopped under the awning right in front of the window, careful of where she stepped-odd-and brushed the hair out of her eyes, before smiling at a passerby. She was radiant. Absolutely gorgeous. Shade held back a groan and shifted uncomfortably in his seat when she bit into her lip. She smiled again then walked to what must have been her car, got in, and left before Shade even thought to stand.

Some warrior he was, completely frozen in shock by his reaction to her. He was, however, unrepentant. He didn't want to follow her today anyway. A town small as this would know of Lily and aide him in his research. If the supernaturals were revealed, chaos would rain. Humans could feel threatened, start wars, do untold atrocities when they met with what they didn't know and therefore feared. If the supernaturals felt threatened...Shade didn't want to think about that. He had to know more before he did anything.

So many questions flashed through his mind. Who was she? Why did she have his dust? What would she do if she discovered his secret?

Most importantly, he wondered if she was single and how she would look underneath him, blushing in ecstasy.

Shade shook his head, dispelling those annoying thoughts. He'd find out what he needed to about Lily, get his dust, and save the entirety of the supernatural world. Maybe along the way he'd learn a little more about a pretty brunette whose very presence threatened to make his wings stretch to the sky.

Yep. Easy for a warrior angel such as himself.

Charmed Spirits Excerpt Have you tried Carrie Ann's other series, Holiday, Montana?

CHARMED SPIRITS is now available

Chapter 1.

"The road to salvation is found through cleansing your heart and finding the right path. Turn your back on those with wicked ways."

Jordan Cross switched off the radio in her '68 Mustang.

"Really? They're still preaching that garbage? It's 2012 for freak's sake," she mumbled to herself, and drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

She came up to a sign and rolled her eyes at the message.

"Yeah, sure. Welcome to Holiday, Montana. Right. Like that would ever happen. And, Jordan, you really need to quit talking to yourself or they'll think you're crazier than they already do."

On second thought, maybe adding new quirks to her repertoire would enhance her wickedness. She smiled and took a sip of her Coke, her gaze on the empty road ahead of her. She practiced her cackle and looked out on the barren hills and plains of Holiday, Montana.

Okay, so it wasn't barren. She just hated it so much she wanted it to be barren so it would reflect that. Trees reached to the sky, their fall colors reminiscent of a harvest sunset. Deep greens, burnt oranges, and crisp apple reds dotted the tree line. Mountains carved through the skyline, towering over the valleys beneath them. Rivers and streams cut through the rolling meadows and beautiful clearings creating a freaking stunning landscape. Any second now Bambi would frolic through.

She knew she needed to stop the bitter attitude. After all, her life's work-well, the one she hid from peering eyes-depended on nature and all its bounty. Still, that didn't mean she had to like the fact she'd returned to Holiday.

"I'm back."

She rolled her eyes and squinted until she saw the first building. Ah, downtown Holiday. Still as adventurous as ever. With the ten buildings on Main Street, it was a regular old metropolis. She already missed take-out and late-night movies. No matter, she'd only be here for a few weeks. Two months tops. Then she'd drive off like a bat out of hell-again.

Jordan let out a sigh and forced herself not to turn around and step on the gas and run. No, not race away exactly; just strategically not be anywhere near the place that had stolen so much of her life. She'd lived in Holiday for eighteen years, five with her folks before they'd crashed their plane into the side of a mountain, the rest with her grandmother who doted on her with sharp-as-glass type of love.

A pang shocked her heart, and she bit her lip. She couldn't think about that now or the fact that the only reason she was even here was because her grandmother was gone. She'd been overseas at an event for her old employer and hadn't even known her grandmother was sick. In fact, she hadn't spoken with her in years. Not since the last fight that had torn them apart. Jordan hadn't wanted to return to find her legacy, but her grandmother had wanted her by her side. It was only because of a lost phone message that Jordan had even heard that her grandmother had passed away. She'd missed the funeral and all the arrangements. Thankfully, her grandmother's friends, the Coopers, had taken care of everything.

Now Jordan was left to clean an old, abandoned house and sell it in a small town where all the citizens hated her. She blinked back the tears she refused to shed and pulled into a parking spot in front of the general store-not a Walmart in sight. The town looked as though it had a modern tilt meshed with an early twentieth century flair-with the small-town attitude that came with it.

Jordan turned off the car, the dull hum of her engine quieting. People milled past, casting curious looks her way.

They all gave her a look that reflected the same thing: 'Who is that stranger?' A look of recognition soon followed, and a look of contempt replaced curiosity.

Hmph. If they looked beneath the surface, they'd see the girl they'd kicked and poked until she ran. They'd see the girl who'd tried to stand tall but hid behind the brown-haired boy who loved her.

She cursed and got out of the car. Already, the memories of why she'd left assaulted her. How was she supposed to make it through a couple months? She grabbed her purse, slammed the car door, and walked into the General Store.

Old Mr. Clancy stood behind the counter, a smile on his face and a story on his lips. God, some things never changed. When she was young, and when Matt hadn't been around, he'd sneak her bubble gum or Tootsie Pops when the other kids had teased her.

Matt.

She closed her eyes and fought to breathe. He couldn't be on her thoughts; she wouldn't let him. Yes, he still lived here, but for all she knew, he was happily married with his three point five babies and a puppy. He, above all others, deserved that.

Jordan took a deep breath and grabbed a pack of gum and a Coke. She really didn't need anything, but if there was one way to announce her presence, it was to show up at town central and wait for the busybodies to do their jobs-whispering through the grapevine to announce her presence. She could have shown up with a bang, maybe on a broomstick or something, just to live up to her name. But witches didn't fly... Well, at least not in her case.

Jordan Cross might be a witch, but she wasn't a pointy-hat-wearing, card-carrying member of the green-skinned race. Nope, she was just a normal woman with a few extraordinary talents.

Those talents had scared the hell out of the bigoted townsfolk and caused her to run like a frightened little girl. Energy pooled within her, and she inhaled again, calming herself. The last thing she needed was to welcome her townsfolk with a display of magic.

At least not yet.

She'd keep that up her sleeve, just in case.

Jordan perused the aisles, waiting for someone to notice her and, if she were honest with herself, procrastinating about going home-no, her grandmother's home. If just going down Main Street had made the memories so fresh they were like gaping wounds, she couldn't imagine seeing the two-story cabin. People strolled in and out of the store, not paying attention to her.

"Did you hear about last night?" A woman in her mid-fifties who Jordan didn't recognize was talking to Mr. Clancy.

The shop owner nodded, his eyes bright under bushy white eyebrows. "Another sighting."

Jordan's interest perked up, and she dragged her fingers over a bag of M&M's, trying to look nonchalant. A spy she would never be, but she could try.

"This time it was by Betty across the street. She swore she heard chains!"

Mr. Clancy let out a bellow of a laugh. "Really? So, this is Jacob Marley, now?"

The lady sniffed but smiled. "Who knows what Betty saw? But I think something should be done about the old Marlow place. Kids are forever trying to break in and damage things. I know we don't want to tear or burn it down because it's been deemed historical, but it's dilapidated and a menace to this town."

"Ah, now, Mrs. Jacobs, don't think that. That place has history. It just happens to have a ghost."

"But really, we would be much better off without that eyesore, we should just burn the thing down. We have enough historical things around town as it is."

The old man shook his head. "You really need to stop thinking that way. We can't do it."

Jordan started and almost dropped her gum. Had she heard right? A ghost in Holiday? Oh, that was rich. The town that had kicked her out for being a witch wanted to burn down a house because they thought it held a ghost in it.

She shook her head and walked toward Mr. Clancy to check out. She'd seen a few ghosts in her time, but they'd been harmless, just pale shells of their former selves who couldn't let go. Not a reason to tear down a building. Maybe she'd check out the old Marlow place while she was here. It would give her something to do other than bury herself in memories and avoid Matt.

"Jordan?"

Jordan dropped her gum and unopened Coke, the can rolling to the booted foot of the man with the voice that haunted her dreams.

She raised her head, unable to speak, as he picked up the can. He had the same brown hair with honeyed streaks. It was longer now in the front than it had been when they were younger. Perfect for her fingers-no, she couldn't think that. His blue eyes looked even sexier with his aged face, not old, but not an eighteen-year old boy either. No, this was a thirty-year-old man with the hard body to prove it.

She straightened her shoulders and met his dumbfounded gaze head-on. "Matt."

"You're back."

She gave a wry smile, pushing down the urge to throw herself into his arms or run from the crowd that had gathered around them.

"Looks like it."

He held out his hand, and she grabbed her Coke, careful not to let their skin touch. Even after all these years, she didn't think she'd be able to handle that.

"I was sorry to hear about your grandmother," Matt said, his sympathy reflected in his eyes.

She ignored the dull ache gripping her heart. "Thank you. I know she loved you like her own." Damn, why did she have to go and say that? Now even more memories flooded her. Memories of her and Matt sitting at her grandmother's table, drinking hot cocoa or making cookies, or planting flowers in the flowerbed on a warm spring day.