The following evening, Mary tried to make sure that Bitty was all set in the billiards room. But even after providing the girl with a bowl full of freshly popped and buttered popcorn, a bag of Chips Ahoy! chocolate chip cookies, a ginger ale, a bottle of water, the remote to the huge TV over the fireplace, copies of Cosmo for Girls, the National Enquirer, two weeks of People, and a partridge in a pear tree … she still felt as though she were leaving Bit in the wilderness alone in a snowstorm.

Which was nuts.

But that was a mom for you.

Sitting down on the sofa by the twin leg casts, she stroked Bitty’s soft-socked foot. “You sure you’ll be all right?”

The smile she got back was easy and happy. “Oh, yes, very much so. Bella and Nalla are coming down after Nalla’s bath. And Lassiter promised he would come watch Saved by the Bell with me.”

“He’s a good soul, that angel.”

“He also told me he was going to color my hair—”

“What—”

“Kidding.” Bitty smiled even further. “I couldn’t resist.”

Mary clutched the front of her silk blouse. “Jeez, you’ll give me a heart attack.”

“Father came by, too. He said he was going to get off work early and make me a special Last Meal.”

“He’s at the Audience House tonight.”

“Is he not in the field because of what happened at the clinic?”

“He needs a little more recovery time.”

“Good.” The girl got quiet. “I worry.…”

“About what?” Mary switched to the other foot, massaging the little toes in their cushion of fleece. “Tell me.”

“What if something happened to him? I mean, I know the beast protects him, but …”

“He’s specially trained, honey. His equipment is the best. He doesn’t take any undue risks.”

“That’s what he said.”

“He’ll never lie to you.” Mary frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”

“The other kids need you. I get to be with you during the day.”

You’re so beautiful, Mary thought as she stood up. “You can always call me.” She took her cell phone out of her purse and waved it back and forth. “This is always with me.”

“I know. Have a good night, Mom.”

Mary closed her eyes briefly. Boy, that was one word she just couldn’t believe was being applied to her. And right up with shellan, it was her absolute favorite.

“See you soon. Call me, okay?”

“I promise.”

Just as she was leaving, Lassiter came into the room, his blond-and-black hair nearly down to his ass, his white robing like something out of Animal House’s toga party.

Dropping her voice, she said, “Tell me you are not coloring that girl’s hair.”

The angel assumed an innocent look. “She likes pink, you know.”

“Lassiter, are you serious? You need to talk to us before you—”

“I don’t see anything wrong with her having pink hair.”

“I don’t either. The issue I have is what you’re going to have to do to get it that color. Bald is not going to work for me, okay? And if you melt that child’s hair off her scalp, I don’t care if you’re a deity, Rhage will find a way to kill you. She’s already got casts on her arms and legs, she doesn’t need to lose her hair on top of it.”

“Not for long,” Lassiter murmured.

“Excuse me?”

“The casts.”

Mary looked back at Bitty. The girl seemed perfectly content, reclining back and reading a magazine.

“Six weeks seems like forever,” Mary whispered. “But you’re right. It isn’t.”

The angel put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s all going to be okay.”

Something in his voice reached her at her heart and eased the ache there sure as if he had given her a Tylenol for a sprained ankle.

“Go,” he told her. “I’m not leaving her side.”

“I love you, Lassiter,” she said without looking away from her daughter.

“I know.”

Mary glanced back at him. “Did you just quote Harrison Ford to me.”

“Yes, Leia. And it’s also true. Go on, Mother, she’s safe.”

Mary gave the angel a quick hug and then she left the mansion, going out through the vestibule to the Volvo station wagon she used. As she was getting in, her phone went off and she dumped half her purse out trying to get to the thing in case Bitty needed—

It was a text from Rhage.

Can’t wait till coast is clear today. Meet me in tub?

Mary laughed. “Coast is clear” was the code phrase they used for making love. And it was funny, ever since Bitty had come into their lives, the sex had gotten even better because it had to be planned, snuck in, kept a secret.

It’s a date, she texted back. But I’ll fill the Jacuzzi so the level is right.

Nobody wanted a repeat of the deluge that had happened the last time they’d tried to have sex in a bubble bath. Besides, Lassiter had already purchased all of the Little Mermaid merch in the United States. And where the hell would he get a second stuffed tarpon the size of a Volkswagen?

Then again, that was a question best left unanswered.

Mary was still smiling when she pulled up to Safe Place about twenty minutes later. As she headed in through the garage, the feeling that all was right in her world was like having sunshine pouring down over her body, her step light as a breeze, a little tune humming up and out of her throat.

“Hey, everyone,” she said to the group making gingerbread men in kitchen. “Oh, this smells amazing in here.”

She greeted a couple of the kids and their mahmens, glad that the human Christmas tradition she had passed on was being put to good use.

“Nice work,” she murmured to one little guy who was covering his cookie with enough frosting to put a red and green blitz on half of Caldwell.

The stairs to the second floor were in the front of the rambling house, and she was still humming as she ascended to the top landing. Her office was not far from Marissa’s, but when she put her head into her boss’s work space, the female wasn’t there.

It felt really good to prioritize in her mind the work for the night: the reports she wanted to finish up, the meeting with the intake supervisor, and then the community meal right before she would go back home.

So much easier than dealing with the trauma of what had gone down at Havers’s clinic.

She was behind her desk, answering email, talking on the phone, about to transition into her report-writing mind-set, when she realized she hadn’t kept up with tradition.

“… think that is a really healthy solution,” she said to the female on the line. “Your being close to your family is a good thing. You need extra help and support during this transitional period.”

The survivor she was speaking with had been in the house for about eight months, the victim of an abusive boyfriend who had threatened to kill her when she’d told him she was finally leaving him after twenty-two years. Fortunately, she had had Safe Place to come to and be protected in as she had gradually unpacked all the damage from decades of abuse.

Now she was out on her own, and as for the boyfriend?

He was doing better, too.

Although that wasn’t a result of personal introspection and growth. That was because Butch and Rhage had paid him a visit one evening right before dawn.

Mary hadn’t asked a lot of questions. Actually, there had been only one: Was the bastard still breathing? When that had been answered in the affirmative, that was all she’d needed to know—and it went without saying that the male wasn’t going to be bothering his ex anymore. Not if he wanted to keep his arms, legs, head, and testicles where they were supposed to be.

“I’m always here for you,” Mary said, meaning every word. “Okay, great. I’ll look forward to it. Bye, now.”

As she hung up, she opened Facebook on her computer and signed in to the closed group for vampires only. She hadn’t checked the night before, and her buoyant mood meant, for once, she didn’t have a stomach ache as she went through the postings that had absolutely nothing to do with Bitty in the slightest.

“Nailed it,” she said as she went to—

She had almost signed out when she noticed the red-flagged number 1 by the messenger icon.

For some stupid reason, she looked around the room. Like maybe the person it was actually intended for might materialize behind her desk or maybe walk through her open door.

Mary had never gotten a message before on her account. She wasn’t a frequent FB user at all. In fact … the only post she had ever made had been the one asking if anybody was familiar with Bitty’s family—specifically that uncle the girl had talked about right after her mother had passed. The one who had supposedly been imminently coming for her, in spite of the fact that her mahmen had never mentioned him or given any forwarding address for any family whatsoever.

The one whose name Bitty wasn’t even sure of … Run, or something.

It had to be spam. Like the president of Nigeria asking her to fix a money problem of his in return for 3 million USD deposited directly into her bank account. Or an offer for Viagra or Cialis. Maybe a porn site.

Telling herself to get a grip, she was nonetheless shaking as she moved the little arrow over to the red flag and double-clicked the mouse.

When she saw who it was from, her breath stopped in her throat and the world spun.

“Ruhn” was the name of the sender.