I rocketed toward consciousness with the taste of blood in my mouth and a bone-deep case of the chills I couldn’t banish. Unlike most evenings, I skipped my wake-up routine in favor of padding down the hall. I knocked on Linus’s door even though it stood open but didn’t wait for an invitation when I noticed he was dressed before shuffling over and flopping facedown on the bed next to where he sat, bent over, tying his shoes.

“I remembered something,” I mumbled through the comforter stuffing my nose and mouth.

His easy motions stilled. “From the dream?”

“Yes.”

Cool fingers brushed my shoulder, and the mattress shifted with him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s not much to say.” I squirmed closer, preferring his chill to the cold from my dream. “I’ve always suspected I was dreaming about the night Maud died. I don’t know if it’s a memory or a nightmare, but it’s changing. I see more. That must be it, because I’m sleeping longer. Parts of it are sticking with me. Impressions mostly.” I peeked up at him. “This time I remember someone being there with me.”

“It might be a suppressed memory.” He stroked my hair where it fanned over my arm. “It’s a good sign that you’re recalling more of the details in either case.”

The implications were huge. “There might be a witness.”

Laser-focused on my hair, the way the strands slid through his fingers, he agreed, “There might be.”

The temptation to lean into his touch had me craning my neck. “I shouldn’t have invited myself in.”

“The door was open.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

Embarrassed I hadn’t thought to ask sooner, I gave him a thorough once-over. “How are you feeling?

“Healed.” He twined a wavy length of my hair around his finger. “You purged me quicker this time.”

I warmed beneath his praise, banishing the dream’s icy tendrils. “I would say practice makes perfect, but I really don’t want to go through that again.”

“I would prefer not to give you another occasion to practice your skills, either.”

Sitting upright tugged my hair from his fingers. “Are we still on for collecting your supplies?”

“Yes.” He returned to tying his shoes. “We don’t have much time left. Two days.”

“That’s fast.” I whistled. “Why the rush?”

“The candidate has terminal ovarian cancer.” He stood and straightened his clothes. “I understand the clan’s urgency. The time allotted ought to have allowed me to gather materials and prepare the space, but last night cost me. As it is, we must finish our collections and begin preparations at dusk tomorrow.”

“I’ll get dressed.” I rolled off the bed onto my feet. “Meet you downstairs for breakfast?”

He shot me a quizzical look. “Of course.”

Smiling, I walked three doors down and pulled on jeans, a tee and sneakers.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I twisted my hair up on top of my head.

Woolly made a questioning sound through her vents as I passed the nearest one.

“What? Am I not entitled to be in a good mood this early?”

The ticking noise she made warned me she had known me and my habits since childhood.

“I’m just…happy.” I trailed my fingertips along the banister as I headed downstairs. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this good. Must be all the Vitamin L in my diet.”

Woolly kept her opinion to herself, and that was opinion enough.

Clearly, she thought there was more to the bounce in my step. That’s why she couldn’t keep her nose out of my business. Since coming home, I had done my best to savor my fear in private. But tonight I had stumbled out of my bed and into Linus’s for comfort without stopping to think how those actions might be construed by eavesdropping old houses.

“For someone without a physical body, you’re a grade A busybody.”

Woolly’s consciousness swirled away in a huff, and I heard Oscar’s distant laugher in response.

Following a hunch, I crossed to the door leading down into the basement, and yep. “Oscar T. Horrigan.”

The boy stuck his head through the door, spotted me, and made to ghost.

“Oh no, you don’t.” I caught him by the collar. “We talked about you playing in the basement.”

“Woolly said it was okay.” He stuck out his bottom lip. “It’s her basement.”

Hard to argue that logic, but it didn’t stop me from trying. “My house, my rules.”

Woolly set her floorboards rippling at my gall to imply she was a thing to be owned.

“You know what I mean.” I scowled at the spot where her consciousness gathered. “And forget the guilt trip. I’m cancelling my ticket. You’re not getting off the hook by deflecting this time, missy. I told you to keep him out of the basement. Goddess only knows what Maud left lying around down there.”

The fight drained out of the house, and she sagged beneath my disappointment.

“You made me a promise,” I reminded Oscar. “You broke your word when you went down there again.”

His arm shot out in accusation. “But Woolly—”

“You made the promise, not her. You’re the one who has to keep it.”

“I’m sorry.” Oscar walked out, his feet several inches above the floor. “Want me to promise again?”

Teaching him a lesson hurt me worse than it would hurt him. “I can’t trust that you’ll mean it.”

“I understand,” he whispered. “I really am sorry.”

“Prove it to me.” I ruffled his hair. “Stay out of the basement, and I’ll know I can trust you again.”

Squaring his small shoulders, he jerked his chin once. “I won’t let you down.”

All I could do was hope that was the truth. He was a kid, a little kid, but he had to learn the rules. I couldn’t coddle him for eternity. I didn’t have that long.

With the minor rebellion quelled, I headed for the kitchen, my stomach already rumbling in anticipation.

Linus beat me there thanks to my pit stop and already had the blender whirring. I stood in the doorway, safely out of his line of sight, to watch. Eventually that wasn’t enough, and I drifted over to him. He turned, smiled, and poured me a glass.

“Your smoothie.” Linus pressed the chilled glass into my hand. “I’m making ham and cheese omelets.”

“Only one for me.” I claimed my usual barstool. “The bottomless pit in my stomach seems to be filling.”

“That’s good news.” He set to work cracking eggs. “Anything else?”

“More clear-headed.” I sipped, swallowed, smacked my lips. “There’s something different about this.”

Head bent, he whisked the eggs then poured them into a preheated pan. “Better or worse?”

“I can taste…” you, “…a copper tang cutting through the fruit.”

“I’ll go lighter tomorrow.” He set about his task. “Or I can cut in some vegetables to mask the flavor.”

I spun on my seat, turning my back on him, and admitted, “I don’t mind.”

“All right,” he said softly. “We’ll leave your Vitamin L intake at its current level and see how that goes.”

I stifled a laugh as he leaned around me to deposit my plate on the countertop.

This evening, there was no pretense. One omelet on one plate. One glass of orange juice.

Linus sat beside me, jotting notes in his beginner’s guide to necromancy, while I inhaled my breakfast.

After pushing back my plate, I patted my stomach. “I’m shocked you haven’t started weighing me.”

“The thought occurred to me, but women have complex relationships with scales.”

“I weighed one hundred and fifteen pounds at my last appointment.” I wove the fork through my fingers to avoid thinking about the checkup required to clear me for a job I no longer had after the car accident in Atlanta. “Trust me, I won’t cry as we watch the numbers climb. I want my curves back. I want to have boobs again. I want to feel, at least a little, like the old me.”

Linus glanced up at me. “Are you sure it won’t make you feel more like a lab specimen?”

I circled the edge of my glass with a finger. “That’s what I am, right?”

“It’s not all you are,” he said, holding my gaze.

“Let’s get moving,” I blurted when neither of us proved capable of breaking our stare-off. “We’ve got a lot to do before dawn.” Shoving away from the counter, I snapped my fingers. “I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”

“Does it cost ninety-nine cents or less?”

“It cost zilch.” I reached for his hand. “Hold still.” I used a modified pen and drew the sigil I created for Linus. The design, when I finished, resembled a strophalos with a screaming phoenix rising from its own ashes in its center that reminded me of the city seal of Atlanta on his chest. The ink spanned from his knuckles to his wrist, and protections were hidden in every line. “There.” I blew on the nib then capped my pen and holstered it like I was a gunslinger in the old west. “What do you think?”

The symbolism warmed his expression, the reference to his professional affiliation and to his city.

“A healing sigil combined with…?” He twisted his hand back and forth. “I don’t recognize the rest.”

“Neither do I.” I tapped the side of my head. “I pulled it from up here.”

“What does it do?” Light entered his eyes. “Specifically?”

“Makes you impervious to poisons.”

“The lab has the arrowhead. That gives them a sample of the toxin.” A glint sharpened his eyes. “They could replicate it and—”

“No.” I pressed a hand to his chest, thundering with possibilities. “I forbid you to test this on yourself.”

“Forbid me?” Puzzled, he examined his hand. “Without the research, what’s the point?”

“To keep you alive,” I snapped, shoving him aside. “I’ll meet you at the van.”

Linus beat me to the living room and inserted himself between me and the front door. “I didn’t mean to insult your gift.”

“You can’t test every bright idea we have on yourself. You’re not a lab specimen either.”

“It’s what I do.”

“No, it’s what you used to do.” I knocked on his forehead. “Brain? Hello? Are you home? Can you maybe divert some resources away from woolgathering and apply them to self-preservation instead?” Shoving him aside, I exited onto the porch. “For a smart boy, you’re pretty dumb.”

Woolly’s curtains flittered with her laughter, and I stomped down the steps into the grass.

“I heard raised voices,” Hood grumbled from the darkness beyond the porch light.

“I designed a sigil for Linus, to keep him safe, and he wants to test it on himself. The exact opposite of keeping him safe.”

“He’s not like us,” Lethe said from his left. “He didn’t grow up in a pack. He grew up alone.”

Primed to snap that at least he grew up with his mother and knew his father—both of them, actually—it sank in what she meant. Amelie and Boaz. Maud and Woolly.

“I did grow up in a pack.” I had people who loved me, who spent time with me, who were invested in me. “He lived in a museum with his mother’s staff for company.”

Tidiness might be a learned habit and not an inherited virtue, but the facts were these.

Linus was fastidious, always had been to my knowledge, but he was ten to my five when we first met. Well on his way to maturing into a man defined by his upbringing. Including a father who died when he was young and a mother who wouldn’t suffer a tassel out of place on a cushion decorating her sofa, let alone plastic toys scattered across her priceless rugs.

Left to amuse himself, he must have gotten it in his head that no one cared what he did—even to himself—so long as he didn’t leave evidence behind.

Behind Lethe, Hood glowered at me, but there was no real heat in the look.

“Am I forgiven?” I preferred that question to the others buzzing around in my head.

“A side of beef on the hoof goes a long way toward soothing hurt feelings,” Lethe said dryly.

“Come between me and my duty again, and I will hogtie you and leave you in the den until the situation is under control.” He narrowed his eyes on his mate when she patted him on the back like he was a good boy for making nice with me. “Let me do what I do best, and we’ll have no problems.”

“I can do that, within reason, but you need to understand something too. Linus is important to me. He’s my friend. I won’t leave him behind. I don’t care what circling back costs. He would do the same for me.”

“I’ll make allowances for his safety, but I won’t endanger you for his sake.”

“That’s all I ask.” I was happy enough to endanger myself on his behalf for the both of us.

Linus stepped out onto the porch, and our gathering fell silent. “Am I interrupting?”

I hated that he stood apart, that he shoved his hands into his pockets. “No.”

“Are we ready?” He took the stairs with caution. “I can go ahead if—”

“Not happening.” I started off in the direction of the front gate. “Are you coming or not?”

He jogged to catch up to me. “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.”

“I know.”

“I’m not used to...” His thought trailed into silence. “I’ve never had to answer to someone else for what I do to myself, for what I consider an acceptable risk.”

“As potentate, you must be answerable to someone for your actions.”

“I am,” he agreed. “The city council on a local level, and Mother on a national level.”

“Consider me your advisor on a personal level.”

“A wise woman once called me dumb. She resembles you quite a bit, actually.”

“As your newly self-appointed personal advisor, I suggest you quit indulging in self-destructive behavior. You’re too valuable to squander, Linus, and I don’t mean your money, or your brain, or your—everything else you’ve got happening that frankly exhausts me. I mean you. Just you. My friend.”

“I’ll wear your sigil, Grier. Every day that you’re willing to draw it. And if I never have occasion to test it, I will still be grateful that someone sent me out into the world with protection against what awaited me.”

Unable to meet the startling intensity of his gaze, I focused on the top button of his shirt. The button attached to the starched collar framing his pale throat. “In that case—” I wet my lips, “—you’re forgiven.”

After linking my arm through his, which spared me from facing him while a blush still warmed my cheeks, I walked Linus down to the van, ready to see what the night held for us.

The blessed water was painless to collect. Plenty of temples kept fountains burbling in anticipation of a practitioner’s need. We didn’t have to pay our respects to the cleric, though Linus slid a folded bill of an undetermined amount beneath the rear door. All we had to do was let ourselves into the cramped rear garden and fill a vial with water steeped in moonlight and magic.

“I don’t remember coming here.” The garden was tiny but well kept, the fountain immaculate. “Maud preferred the temple on Bull Street.”

“Given our luck revisiting her favorite haunts, I thought switching things up might be prudent.”

“Good call.” The supply list for a resuscitation, the fresh ingredient portion, was common knowledge. Pair that with a familiarity of Maud’s preferences, and it was easy to speculate what destination we had in mind based on the direction we drove. “Less chance of assassins lying in wait too.”

“That too.”

“Where are we gathering sage?” I dipped my fingertips in the cool water. “Buying, I mean.”

Drying out fresh cut would take a week, and we didn’t have that long.

“There’s a stall on River Street, not that far from Esteban’s. We can go there.”

“You trust the origin?” There was good reason it was best to trim and cure you own sage. Where you harvested guided it toward its best application. “They won’t stiff you?”

“Angel is honest, and he carries five species grown in a variety of locations.”

“Since we’ll be close…” I flicked my fingers in his face, spattering him with droplets.

“We can stop in for churros.” Lips curving, he wiped his cheek on his sleeve. “I’ll buy. Esteban might ban me if I keep visiting his shop but don’t place any orders.”

A dull sadness whirled through me at the reminder. Esteban had joked about preferring Boaz the first time I brought Linus to his stall. He had been picking on me for bringing in two guys in as many days, but the jab struck Linus. As much as I wanted to pass on the visit to avoid the memories associated with it, I refused to lose ground to Boaz. Plus, Linus would get his chance to buy his way into Esteban’s good graces. That would make both of them happy.

“I’m not going to argue with a man who’s willing to feed me.” These days, in more ways than one.

We took our haul, piled back in the van, and Hood aimed us toward River Street Market Place.

Linus stored the vial in a padded drawer in one of the cabinets affixed to the rear doors.

“I’ll park then set out on foot,” Hood told us. “Try not to get in trouble until I find you.”

“I’ll do my best,” I promised, smiling in a way that worried him if the twitching eye was any indication.

The smell of fried dough and sugar hit me not long after we reached the row of shops lining the market, but I kept walking, past the familiar tent-like booth, to one I had never paid much attention to since it didn’t sell edibles.

A middle-aged man standing behind a table spotted Linus, and he shook out a paper bag, ready to fill.

“Scion Lawson, always a pleasure.” He barely spared me a glance. “And you’ve brought a friend.”

“Angel, this is Grier.” Linus settled a proprietary hand at the small of my back. “Grier, this is Angel. You can trust any item you purchase in this shop to be the genuine article.”

“High praise coming from you, my man. High praise.” He slapped his hands together. “What can I do you for?”

“We need six bundles of white sage, three of lavender, and one of palo santo.”

“I got you.” He shuffled to the rear of the booth and started hunting through bins. “Picked on the night of a full moon from the grave of a saint buried in the graveyard of a church two centuries old.”

“Which one?” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

Angel paused with his arms filled with dried herbs. “Which one what?”

“Was the sage or the lavender or the palo santo harvested on the night of a full moon from the grave of a saint buried in the graveyard of a church two centuries old?”

Linus wiped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. I had seen the smile, a crack in his façade.

Eyes narrowed, Angel set his jaw. “Are you calling my integrity into question?”

“Just curious.” I could tell from here the herbs were expertly dried and bundled. They were quality. Linus wouldn’t have chosen this vendor otherwise. But Angel? He was full of cow poop. “There’s no need to get defensive as long as your provenance is accurate.”

“Is this some kind of test?” he demanded of Linus. “What’s her problem?”

“Grier is a Woolworth,” he said coolly. “She has high standards.”

The vendor stumbled back a step, the herbs clutched to his chest. “Grier Woolworth? As in Maud Woolworth’s kid?”

Unsettled by the panic in his eyes, I rolled a shoulder. “That would be me.”

“You gotta get out of here.” He shoved our order in the bag then tossed it to Linus. “No charge. Just take her away, and don’t come back.”

Linus caught it with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Word on the street is she’s worth serious dough, and I don’t mean her inheritance. I got a call this week from a guy with a Frenchy accent asking if I’d sold to her, or to you. I said no. He said call if she shows up. Now you’re here.” He waved his hands, warding us away. “I don’t want no trouble. I’m just a—”

The fletching of an arrow blossomed in the center of his throat. That’s how it looked from where I stood. A vicious red flower unfurling its petals.

Eyes wide, Angel toppled backward and hit the concrete floor of his stall.

I planted my palm on the table and leapt it, thanking Midas for those agility lessons. The low tug in my gut, part of what made me a necromancer, told me Angel was gone before I pressed my fingers to his throat.

“Forgive me.” I closed his eyes with a sweep of my hand. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Black mist swirled around my hands and ankles as Linus joined me. “We have to move.”

Keeping low, I followed him out the back. “Where do we go from here?”

“I called Hood. He’s bringing the van.” He guided me behind a stack of oak barrels. “Now we wait.”

A rapid succession of thuds, more arrows striking, announced the archer’s awareness of our position.

“He’s circling to the right.” Each hit sounded closer. “He’ll be on top of us soon.”

A roll of his shoulders unfurled the wraith’s cloak, and it pooled on the pavers where he squatted next to me. “I’m going to draw him away.” He uncapped a pen and drew a series of interlocking obfuscation sigils down my arm. “Don’t move, and he won’t see you.”

I fisted the churning mist and yanked his face closer to mine. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“Yes, you will.” He pried my hand free. “The element of surprise is on our side this time.”

We stayed hunkered together, our breaths mingling, our eyes locked, for precious seconds.

Cletus peeled from the shadows to lurk at my elbow, his presence killing the moment.

“Go.” I shoved Linus back. “Don’t make me save your sorry tail again.”

“I’ll do my best.” He awarded me one of his rare smiles, this one showing teeth. “Watch for Hood.”

Folding myself into a shadowy corner, I let the magic do its work, and I hated every second I cowered in safety while Linus glided through the night, as insubstantial as mist, dodging arrows and luring this latest archer out of his hiding spot.

I wondered if he was one of the vampires I’d stunned at the marsh.

I wondered if this was still business or if we had made it personal.

I wondered if it would ever stop, or if it would always be this way.

The vampire jogged past the barrels without slowing, providing me with a clear shot I had to take.

Without Hood around to assist, I was forced to resort to cutting myself on a curl of metal banding the barrel behind me. Sanitary, it was not, but it got the job done. Blood dripped down my fingers, and I made a cup with my palm to catch every drop.

Note to self: Invest in a pocketknife.

The warding circle was easier to raise each time I drew one, and the sigils leapt to my fingertips faster every time I accessed that part of my brain. I painted a quick design on the wall of compressed air and smacked it with my palm. The burst of energy hit the vampire square in the lower back and knocked him to the ground. While he kissed the pavers, I primed more so I would be ready when he got up again.

As it turned out, it was wasted concern. Linus took the opening I gave him, summoning the cruel scythe into his hand, swinging down in a powerful arc, and beheading the vampire with practiced ease before the archer did more than rock onto his hands and knees in a weak attempt at escape.

A sour taste filled the back of my throat, but I swallowed it and gave myself a much-needed reminder.

Make no apologies for surviving.

We hadn’t gone after the archer, he came after us.

Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. In. Out.

Linus backtracked with more caution than the situation required, his steps hesitant as he neared me.

Cletus drifted away, sensing my unease, but I called him back to my side with a negligent wave.

“No sign of Hood yet.” Fingernails biting into the meat of my palms, I quashed the tremble in my hands. I kept my voice level, calm, when Linus got in range. “Are there more archers, do you think?”

The grim figure, draped in night-sky fabric that writhed with his movements, turning simple creases into screaming maws and plain folds into clawing arms, studied me from beneath his hood. He leaned on the scythe, its wicked curve gleaming in the moonlight, red dripping from its razor edge. “You’re not afraid.”

Accurate.

I was pants-wetting terrified of this being concealed beneath his skin, this nightmare who became more fully realized each time he showed this side of himself to me. But he was part of Linus, the darkest part of him, maybe, but still him. And that meant he would never hurt me.

“You’ll have to try harder next time.” I barely kept my voice from cracking. “Maybe add a grinning skull under the hood or—oh—a flaming skull like that one guy with a motorcycle.”

The blackness dissipated when he huffed out a laugh, like darkness and light couldn’t exist in the same place at the same time. “There was only one archer in pursuit. Hood took out the other three.”

“Ah.” That explained why Linus came back rather than hunting.

“I’m calling this in.” He retrieved his phone and did just that. “This incident was public. I’m going to have to give a statement at the Lyceum. I’ll try to keep you out of it, but Mother might require your presence as well.”

Rounding my shoulders, I slumped forward. “Isn’t getting shot at punishment enough?”

“I’ll stall her if I can.” He extended his arm then looked at his hand like he expected to see blood. “I understand if…”

“Just help me up.” I clasped his palm and hauled myself to my feet while he stood there, conflicted. “There’s Hood.” I kept hold of him, dragging him in my wake. “We need to get out of here before the sentinels hold us for questioning.”

We reached the van, and our driver grinned at us through bloody teeth, but this time it was me shoving Linus in first. That’s why I noticed the rip in his shirt and the line of blood staining the fabric.

“You got tagged.” I slid my fingers through the hole then ripped it wider. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He twisted around, grabbed me by the elbows, and hauled me into the safety of the vehicle. “I didn’t notice.”

“That had to hurt.” I flopped down in my usual spot, pulling him with me. “Let me see.” I yanked up his shirt before he got a say in the matter and sucked in a breath. “There’s no cut.” I smoothed my fingers across the crusted line of dried blood, and it crumbled. “It’s already healed.”

“Your sigil must be to thank.” He reached around to touch the affected area. “It’s not sore at all.”

“Clearly, I wasn’t specific enough with my intent. I was going for impervious to poison, not impervious.”

But hey, he was alive. He was healthy. He was safe. I had no complaints.

“Remarkable,” he breathed. “Your mind never ceases to amaze me.”

“They aren’t original designs,” I reminded him. “I’m sucking them from some genetic hive mind.”

With enough effort, I could twist their purpose, shape their overall appearance, but the knowledge came from a source outside me.

“This is unknown territory.” Excitement vibrated through him as he twisted to face me. “Any secrets you reclaim was information lost to us.”

While I had hoped to be a trailblazer, like Maud, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings to rediscover this part of my heritage in the hopes it would help others like me in the future. I might not be an inventor, but my work could still be groundbreaking. I could still have a purpose beyond any I imagined for myself.

“If this works the way it seemed to, for you,” I said, making my decision, “we need to be careful no one else gets their hands on the design.”

“I agree.” He leaned back, thoughtful. “Keep your notes in Eileen. She can protect them from theft.”

That was good to know. “I didn’t read that part in the owner’s manual.”

“I thought you understood. It’s the eyes. She’ll only open for you. Grimoires of her caliber bond to the first person who writes in them.”

“Maybe lead with that next time.” All of my homework and classwork resided in the grimoire, but I hadn’t wanted to spend her blank pages on doodles. Chicken scratch had its own value, apparently, so I would be confining all my work to her pages going forward. “What’s next on our to-do list?”

“You’re going home to train with Midas.” He aimed the statement at Hood. “I’m going to the Lyceum to head off as much of this as I can.” He smoothed a hand down his shirt. “As soon as I change.”

“Where do you want the fresh symbol?” I nodded at his hand. The flaked ink was spent. The deliberate cracking made me wonder if it was a one-time use sigil. “Chest or back? Your nape? Upper arm?”

“You’re serious about me wearing it every time I leave the house.”

“I am.”

He leaned back with a pleased expression wreathing his face that I was proud to have hung there.

The ride home was short considering how long the evening felt. Linus and I entered the house, splitting off to each go our separate ways. I set up camp in the office, where I transferred the new sigil to Eileen then burned the paper I used to draft the design while he went to freshen up for what promised to be a long night.

About the time Midas appeared in the doorway, ready for my lesson, Linus arrived dressed in slacks and nice shoes. A dress shirt hung from his fingertip, and a folded white tee balanced on his opposite palm.

I didn’t gawk at the miles of bare skin or the artwork mapping every inch. I didn’t admire the hard planes of his stomach. I didn’t wet my lips at the deep vee carved into his lean hips that disappeared into his slacks.

Much.

“The sigil will have the most staying power on my chest,” Linus announced, continuing our earlier conversation. He noticed Midas and inclined his head on his way to me. “The location will keep it concealed as well.”

“Okay.” I patted the desk. “Have a seat.” He did as I instructed after setting aside his clothing. “I’m going to stick with the previous dimensions, since they appeared to be effective.” I drew the sigil on with more care, bracing my hand on his right pectoral. The result was about the size of a donut. “That ought to do you.”

Linus dressed in economic movements, raked his fingers through his hair, and sighed. “Wish me luck.”

“Better you than me.” I grinned at his feigned scowl. “Good luck.”

Midas drifted closer with a contemplative expression. “How do you feel you performed?”

Caught off-guard, I did a double take. “Tonight?” He nodded. “I did okay.”

He absorbed that without comment. “How about last night?”

“Aside from accidentally locking one of my assets in a circle, I feel good about what I accomplished.”

That earned me a hum of consideration. “Do you feel these lessons helped prepare you?”

“Yes.” I reflected on the difference between Taz and Midas, their teaching methods. “I’m stronger now. I have a better understanding of what to do and what not to do. I don’t want to get in a fight, but you’ve given me the confidence to believe I can get myself out of minor scrapes without involving magic.”

“Good.” He eyed the door. “I’m glad to hear I made a difference.”

“What am I missing here? This was an evaluation? Don’t those only happen when lessons are over?”

“I’ve been summoned to Atlanta. The invitation was from our mother, and it was open-ended.”

Pack business then, or a family matter. “Does that mean you’re not coming back?”

“Mom is anxious having both heirs out of her territory. She wants to recall Lethe. She would feel better if her daughter birthed her first child in the den where she was born.” His lips flattened. “Mom has lost a lot, and almost lost even more.” His fingers played along his scars. “But Lethe is a dominant, and the day is coming when she gets fed up with the status quo and challenges for the mantle of alpha. It’s inevitable, but we would all prefer that not happen while she’s pregnant.”

“You’re sacrificing your freedom for hers.”

“I’m the contingency plan.” He popped his knuckles. “Having me around will soothe Mom.”

Linus once told Amelie we were victims of our birthright. It seemed he was right, about all of us.

“Linus offered to help me find an instructor before you volunteered. I’m sure he can find someone.”

“You could do that.” He leaned out in the hall and made a beckoning gesture. “Or she can take over.”

Wild hope kicked up my pulse that Taz would sashay through the door, but she really was in the wind. The woman who strolled in the room wearing a tank top and yoga pants, her blue hair in a bun, grinned.

“I took all the same lessons as him.” Lethe hooked a thumb toward Midas. “I just looked better doing it.”

“She’s out of practice,” he told me. “She could use the exercise.”

Lethe’s jaw came unhinged, and her chin scraped the oriental rug we stood on. “Are you calling me fat?”

“No.” He thrust out his hands to stave off an attack. “That’s not what I meant.”

A river of tears overflowed the banks of her eyelids. “I’m pregnant.” She clutched her flat stomach. “I’m eating for two. How dare you make me feel bad about providing for my young.”

The blood drained from his sun-kissed skin, leaving his complexion as bleached as bone. Slowly, he backed from the room.

He never lowered his arms.

He never turned his back on his sister.

He never broke eye contact with her, proving he was as smart as he was pretty.

The second the front door shut behind him, Lethe wiped her face dry on the hem of her shirt. “Sucker.”

“I’m impressed.” I slow clapped for her. “Teach me your ways.”

Her curtsey was picture-perfect, even delivered in yoga pants. “Honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”