“Never meant to start a war
I just wanted you to let me in…”

I stepped into what had once been Rowena’s study and inhaled lightly but deeply, girding myself to interact with Jada.

Differently this time.

I’d been pondering Dancer’s words as I hurried through the abbey, trying to refine my emotions and stop seeing Jada as the enemy. Open myself to getting to know the icy stranger. Kicking myself for needing someone else to point out that it was my guilt insisting Dani be exactly the same, because if she was, I wouldn’t feel so terrible about chasing her that night.

Dancer was right. My rejection of “Jada” was proportionate to how much I blamed myself, and as he’d so bluntly stated, that had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.

The problem was, we’d had no warning, no time to adjust. One day Dani had been here, and a few weeks later she was gone, replaced by someone five years older, completely different, and quite possibly an alternate personality.

All I’d known was I wanted Dani back and I resented the one who’d taken her—the new Dani. It had been a gut punch, and I’d reacted instinctively, out of pain and grief.

Here, now, buoyed by the clarity of mind, strength, and energy of an Unseelie-flesh high, I could strip my feelings from the situation and perceive it more clearly.

I had no right to reject “Jada.” Whether we liked her personality or not, this was Dani.

She’d made it back by hook or crook, battling God knows what for five and a half long years to return to the only home she’d known, and upon finally making it—not one of us welcomed her back or was happy to see her. Her hard-won homecoming had been an epic failure.

If Dani was in there, a repressed personality, our actions were unforgivable. If this was who Dani actually was now? Doubly unforgivable. We’d all changed. Even my mother. But she’d had the rock that was Jack Lane at her side to share her burdens and leaven the pain. What had Dani had? Anything?

I sighed, looking at her, seated behind the desk. Really looking at her for perhaps the first time since she’d returned.

Dani “the Mega” O’Malley.

All grown up.

Every bit as beautiful as I’d known she would be. Creamy Irish skin, faint dusting of freckles, long red hair swept up in a high ponytail caught in a leather thong, her gamine features both sharpened and softened, resulting in a finely chiseled, stunning face.

This time, however, as I examined her, I looked for the Dani in Jada without regretting the aspects I couldn’t see, focusing instead on the aspects of Dani that still shined through.

Strong. Criminy, she’d always been so strong, and now was even more so.

Smart. Check—fierce intelligence blazed in those slanted emerald eyes above high blades of cheekbones.

Aware. Yes, her gaze was even now skimming the room, taking our measure, missing nothing. It rested briefly on my badly “highlighted” hair. Dani would have burst out laughing. We’d have joked about whether I might add a Mohawk to the mess.

Jada merely noted it and moved on with her assessment.

As did I.

Loyal, she sat in this abbey, training the sidhe-seers as the prior headmistress had never been willing to do.

A warrior, like our Dani, she patrolled the streets, tirelessly killing the enemy.

Like Dani, fighting for what she believed in.

I offered her a smile. It wasn’t hard. This was Dani. She was here. She’d survived. We could have lost her completely. We hadn’t. I would find a way to love this version of her, too. And maybe, one day, I’d get to see more of the girl I’d once known. Dancer’s reminder that she hadn’t been back long was something to consider. A soldier on the front needed time to decompress from the nightmare. A soldier who’d seen hard battle came back mined with triggers. I knew what those felt like from the rape I endured, the complete and total powerlessness I’d felt. I also knew that every time I’d sensed one of my triggers even potentially being approached, I’d done everything in my power to shut down inside. “Jada.” I infused her chosen name with as much warmth as I could.

“Mac,” Jada replied coolly. Like Ryodan and Barrons, she didn’t comment on my visibility. These were difficult people to surprise. Then she looked past me and her face went stiller than still, as if she’d frozen into a stone statue of a woman.

“Jada,” Dancer said happily behind me. “Welcome home!”

I felt like the biggest shit in the world. The one thing none of us had said, Dancer put right out there right away. Saying the normal thing, the nice thing, the thing she’d probably wanted to hear the most. Making the rest of us look like monsters.

Animation returned to Jada’s face—well, as much animation as it ever had—and she said, “Thank you. It’s good to be back.”

A nice normal reply. More than any of us had gotten from her.

“I can imagine,” Dancer said. “Actually, no I can’t. No clue what you went through, but you kicked its ass, didn’t you, Jada? You made it—just like you always do. Good thing, too. We’re in a world of shit.”

“The black holes,” she agreed.

“I’ve got a ton of stuff to go over with you, when you have a minute. Primarily speculation at this point, but between the two of us, we’ll sort it out. I also finished the Papa Roach spray whenever you have a minute to swing by.”

“No one’s swinging by anywhere.” Shooting Jada a pointed look, Ryodan said, “Someone published a rash of dailies that have everyone looking for us.”

“I told you, I don’t believe Jada published the one about me,” I defended again.

“And Jada certainly didn’t publish the one about herself,” said Barrons.

“She admitted she published the one about us,” Ryodan said flatly.

Barrons whipped his head toward Jada, eyes narrowed.

“Well, why wouldn’t she?” Dancer said. “More targets dilute the hunt.”

“Precisely,” Jada said. “I think Ryodan published the first two that betrayed me and Mac.”

“It sounds like something he would do,” Christian agreed. “Hunted women are easier to control.”

“Whoever is behind WeCare is the one who published those dailies,” Ryodan growled. “That’s who you need to be looking for.”

“And who the bloody hell is behind WeCare?” Christian said.

“Don’t look at me,” Ryodan said.

“Well, it’s not me,” I said. “Remember, I got targeted.”

“Enough!” Jada said, pushing herself up to her full height, which never failed to startle me. She was taller than me now. “We’re not devolving into our customary bickering. I didn’t fight so hard to get back here only to lose my world. If you are incapable of focus,” she gestured at the door, “leave. Now.”

I didn’t hear a word she said. The moment she’d stood, a glint of silver against the stark black of her outfit had caught my eye. While she’d been seated, I couldn’t see it. My tongue was useless for a few seconds, thickened by shock. I was able to focus on one thing only. “What are you doing with the sword?” I demanded.

“The same thing I always did with it. Killing Unseelie.”

“You said you lost it!”

“I said no such thing. You said I lost it. I said I knew precisely where it was.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You played me.”

“You assumed. I didn’t correct you. It’s not my job to correct you. The spear was useless in your hands. It’s useful where it is now.”

“You took Mac’s spear?” Barrons said. “When you already had the sword, leaving her defenseless?”

“You’re talking to Dani, Barrons,” Ryodan murmured. “Remember that.”

“Really?” I snapped at Ryodan. “Because I thought she was sounding a lot like you.”

“I’m Jada,” she said to Ryodan. “And don’t try to protect me. I stopped needing you a long time ago.”

“Stopped,” Ryodan echoed.

“Not that I ever did,” she corrected.

“I don’t care who she is,” Barrons growled. “I gave Mac the spear. It’s hers and no one else’s.”

I shot him a curious look. You didn’t like me carrying it. You said so yourself.

He shot back, Far more than someone else carrying a weapon that can harm you. While I believe Jada won’t use the sword against you, I have no such faith in the sidhe-seers. Untenable risk.

“I gave her the cuff of Cruce,” Jada said. “She can also make herself invisible when she so chooses. Clearly, however, she can’t color her hair. Still, she is hardly defenseless.”

My hand went to my hair. “It’s paint,” I said stiffly, “because someone printed a daily that set the Guardians on me, shooting at me. They invaded BB&B and sprayed everything with red paint, and no, I can’t make myself invisible when I want to. That was the Sinsar Dubh, not me.”

Jada said acerbically, “So it is controlling you.”

I snapped, “That’s not what I—”

My hair shot straight up as a small tornado blew past me. I was talking to thin air.

Jada was gone. So was Barrons.

I glanced at Ryodan. Then he was gone, too.

I heard a high whining sound as if they were all snarling or shouting much faster than my brain could process as they faded down the hall.

Then silence.

We were alone in Jada’s study.

I looked at Christian, who was looking at Dancer. Dancer was staring at the door, looking worried. The three of us stood in silence until Christian said, “I’ve a corpse to find while that bastard’s otherwise occupied,” and vanished.

Dancer shook his head and slowly turned his gaze to me. “How do you expect us to save the world if we can’t even stay in the same room together for five minutes?”

“We just need to work a few things out first,” I said irritably. “We’ll get there.”

“The black holes don’t give a rat’s arse about our ‘things.’ And she’s right about the spear. Word on the street is no one was killing Unseelie. Why weren’t you out there?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He smiled faintly but his eyes were sad. “You know one of the best things about Dani?”

The list was long.

“She feared nothing. Do you know what fear fears?”

I inclined my head, waiting.

“Laughter,” he said.

“Your point?” I said stiffly, in no mood for more of his cutting insights. We’d accomplished nothing tonight but pissing each other off. Again.

“Laughter is power. One of the greatest weapons we have. It can slay dragons and it can heal. Jada doesn’t have it anymore. As long as she doesn’t, she’s more vulnerable than any of you seem to realize. Stop worrying about your idiotic ‘things’ and start worrying about her. Make her laugh, Mac. And remember how to do it yourself, while you’re at it. Nice hair, by the way.”

Then he, too, left.

Since we were on the first floor, I exited by the window for two reasons. One: I had no idea how long Barrons, Ryodan, and Jada might go at it, but I knew one thing for certain—I would have the spear back before the night was through.

Because I’d eaten Unseelie multiple times, if someone stabbed me with it, I might suffer the same horrific death I’d dealt to Mallucé. I hadn’t worried about that quite so much when I was invisible.

Then again, thanks to a mysterious elixir given to me by Cruce, I might survive the wound and shamble around indefinitely, rotting in various places, clumps of my badly stained hair falling out.

Yes, Barrons would definitely reclaim the spear.

I’d never have let her keep it in the first place if I had suspected for one moment Jada might turn my spear over to sidhe-seers, who not only didn’t know me but knew I harbored their ancient enemy, although they weren’t clear on the how.

I’d been willing to give it to her, no one else. That weapon was a serious liability, and like Barrons, I didn’t know or trust the new sidhe-seers, and the original ones had been conditioned with fear and manipulation for too long. It was going to take more than a few weeks for Jada to retrain them.

My second reason for slipping out via the tall casement window was because I wanted a better look at the black hole, and it would have taken me ten minutes to get there if I’d gone all the way around the inside of the abbey to the front entrance then followed the exterior wall to the rear of the abbey again.

I approached the anomaly warily, recalling what Dancer had said about gravitational pull. About fifteen feet in diameter, it hovered some three or four feet above the earth. Directly beneath it was a thick carpet of abnormally lush, tall grass, exploding with large red poppies, bobbing heavily in the breeze, shimmering with leftover droplets of rain. Many of the blossoms were as large as my hand. I inhaled deeply, the air deliciously spicy behind the sprawling stone fortress, and with my temporarily heightened senses, it was intoxicating. The night was hot and sultry as a summer noon in Georgia, the foliage lapping up the heat and humidity as if it were Unseelie-flesh-laced plant food.

I scanned the immediate area. There were no trees near the floating sphere, no jagged trunks or holes in the ground to indicate trees had once grown nearby and been sucked up and in.

Then how had the anomaly gotten so big? I couldn’t believe it had been here all this time, so large, and no one had mentioned it. More logical that it began small and grew quickly.

But what was feeding it?

I dropped onto a nearby bench some twenty feet from the ominous vortex, drew up my knees, rested my head on my arms and studied it.

When I’d been this close to the one beneath Chester’s, I was assaulted by a melody so wrong, so vile, I’d felt as if my internal cohesion was being threatened, feared I might be torn apart at the core, atoms scattered to the corners of the galaxies.

Yet tonight, gorged on Unseelie flesh, I heard nothing. My human senses might be heightened but my sidhe-seer senses were useless. If I came back in a few days when the high wore off, would it sing the same soul-rending song to me I’d heard before?

I narrowed my eyes. The poppies were trembling beneath the weight of glistening, nectar-coated insects I hadn’t noticed at first in the pale light of the moon, their soft buzzing engulfed by the nocturnal symphony of crickets and frogs and half a dozen Fae-colored fountains splashing water.

There were hundreds—no, thousands—of sticky bees swarming the poppies, Earth-born creatures gorging on Faery nectar. Flying erratically, with airborne starts and stops and stumbles, buzzing left and right with dizzying speed.

I pushed myself up and moved cautiously nearer.

Ten feet from the black hole, I became aware of a subtle change in the air. It felt…thicker…almost sticky, as if I was pressing forward into a mild, unseen paste.

If it was affecting me, with my considerable mass, how was it affecting the bees?

I took three more steps and gasped softly. Bee after bee was vanishing into the black hole above. Drunk on poppy juice, disoriented by abnormally dense air, they were being pulled directly into the spherical abyss.

How long had this been going on? Since the night they’d destroyed the HFK? How many tens of thousands of bees?

I sensed motion above and tipped back my head. Not just bees—bats. Was it messing with their echolocation? They were flying straight into it as if lured by a siren song. Was it confusing the birds, too?

“What are you doing?” A voice cut through the night behind me, and I spun around.

Two of Jada’s commando sidhe-seers stood in the moonlight, watching me with cold calculation. I’d been so lost in thought that if I heard them approach, I’d tuned it out.

“Trying to figure out why you’re letting this thing grow unchecked,” I said coolly. I didn’t like being between sidhe-seers that knew I had the Sinsar Dubh inside me and a black hole that could swallow me alive in an instant.

I eased to the left. They did, too.

I stepped farther to the left and they moved with me, keeping me pinned, black hole at my back, a mere seven or eight feet away. I could feel the light inexorable pull of it and shivered.

“Funny. We’re trying to figure out why Jada is letting you go, unchecked,” the tall blonde said icily.

“We have history,” I said. “She knows I won’t use the Book.”

“No one can resist such temptation forever,” the brunette said.

Yeah, well, that was pretty much exactly what I was worried about, but there was no way I would admit it, and certainly not to them, so I evaded. “It’s sucking in bees, bats, small animals. You’ve got to stop it from growing. Burn the ground beneath it. Get rid of the bloody flowers. I don’t know, put up a wall or something to keep the bats out.”

“We don’t answer to you,” the brunette said.

“If you answer to Jada, you know I’m off-limits. So back off.” They were moving closer, threateningly. Both were toned, athletic, draped in guns and ammo. I fervently hoped neither of them had my spear.

“If you’re truly no threat, you’ll accompany us back to the abbey,” the blonde said.

“I told you she was up to no good when she left by the window, Cara,” the brunette growled. “She’s probably been out here, feeding it.”

So that was how they found me. They’d been watching Jada’s office and I hadn’t come out. “And why would I do that?” I said acerbically.

“Because sidhe-seers are the bred enemy of the Sinsar Dubh and you want to destroy us,” the brunette said tightly. “What better way to begin than by taking the fortress that houses so much knowledge about our ancient foe?”

“If you truly have good intentions,” Cara said, “you’ll let us secure you, while Jada reconsiders what to do with you. Come willingly, or not. But you’re coming.” While she was still speaking, Cara lunged for me.

If I hadn’t eaten Unseelie flesh, her full frontal charge would have caught me off guard—as it was meant to—but I reacted with inhuman speed, ducking, rolling, gone. To them, it must have seemed I’d freeze-framed like Jada and simply disappeared.

I instantly realized my mistake.

“No, Cara, no!” the brunette cried.

I whipped my head around, shoving hair from my face. Cara was on a collision course with the black hole, arms pinwheeling wildly, trying to get her balance back, a look of terror on her face. She hadn’t known I’d eaten Unseelie, couldn’t have anticipated I’d move as fast as Jada, or that there would abruptly be no object in her way to diminish the velocity of her attack.

The brunette dove for her, and all I could think was, Oh, shit, if she touches Cara while Cara’s touching the black hole, they’re both dead. I tackled the brunette, taking her to the ground hard, then vaulted over her sprawled body, grabbed Cara’s ankle and tripped her.

If not for Unseelie flesh in my veins, I’d never have been able to pull it off. But heightened senses, strength, and speed endowed me with flawless, instant precision. Criminy, I thought, I could get used to moving so fast. No wonder Dani had always hated what she’d called Slow-Mo-Joe walking.

As Cara tumbled to the ground, clearing the edge of the black hole by mere inches, I let out a sharp whoosh of relieved breath. One sidhe-seer was all I was ever going to have on my conscience. And, although this wouldn’t have been my fault, I’d still have added the guilt to the rest of my sins.

“Ow! Shit! Ow!” Cara was lying directly beneath the black hole, slapping at her face, and I saw a cloud of angry bees swarming her, many of them getting even more disoriented, sucked straight up into the sphere.

“Hold still,” I snapped. “And keep your fucking head down.” There were three feet between her head and instant death.

I crawled forward on my knees and elbows, staying low. The air grew denser, exerting a stronger tug on my body as I approached, and I wondered how much larger it would have to get before people started getting trapped in its event horizon. Twice the size? Three times? And how quickly might that happen? Stretching out long, I snagged Cara’s ankle and began scooting us both backward, dragging her from the bee-covered poppies.

We lay on the ground a few seconds, breathing heavily.

Finally, Cara stopped slapping at herself, propped up on an elbow and looked at me in silence. Her face was covered with angry red welts that were swelling fast but she paid them no heed.

I met her gaze levelly. I knew what she was thinking. Had I done nothing, both of them would have vanished into the black hole. No one would have ever known. Our quantum enemy left no evidence. They would have simply disappeared. People did all the time around Dublin.

Jaw set, Cara moved farther from the black hole and stood. As the brunette joined her, they exchanged a look, then Cara gave me a slow, tight nod.

She said nothing but I didn’t expect her to. The women Jada had gathered closest to her were some kind of ex-military, and wouldn’t easily change their minds about someone they’d decided was an enemy. But they weren’t fools either, and my actions had created a question in their minds.

It was enough to work with. One day, I wanted to be welcomed at the abbey. Not distrusted, as I’d been from day one.

As they turned and stalked off without a word, I dusted myself off and got up. I couldn’t tell if the sphere had grown appreciably from the sudden influx of bees.

But at least it hadn’t acquired the mass of two sidhe-seers.

There was a sudden blast of air, then Jada was standing between the sphere and me.

This was followed by two more rushes of wind behind me. I sensed Barrons’s electrifying presence and Ryodan’s more controlled one.

Jada’s face was disapproving but she extended my spear, handle toward me, blade toward her. “I accept Barrons’s reasoning,” she said stiffly. “Many of my sidhe-seers feel strongly you should be killed. They obey me, still…some are young, unpredictable.”

Gee, duh, really? I didn’t say it. I tensed. With Unseelie flesh in my veins, I was acutely aware of what my spear might do to me. I have a serious love/hate relationship with my weapon. The tip was no longer encased in foil and I wasn’t carrying a sheath. I hadn’t expected to get it back tonight. “You were young once, too. And unpredictable. Gloriously, I might add.”

“And made mistakes, hence my concern about those in my charge. Take the spear.”

“Can I just tell you I actually miss your ‘dudes’ and kind of hate your ‘hences.’ You did a lot of things right, Jada.” I made a point of using her name, underscoring my acceptance of her as she was now.

“Your opinion of the things I did is irrelevant, as is your opinion of my speech. My point is merely that he has a point. And until we’ve resolved this immediate problem,” she jerked her head at the black hole behind her, “we may need you alive.”

She thrust the spear out. Had it been tip toward me, I’d have tested my Unseelie-flesh-fueled speed. I’d considered it back in the abbey when they all freeze-framed out, but opted to leave that particular battle among the three of them, as the last thing I wanted to do was fight any more than I had to with Jada.

Toward that end, I also wasn’t ready to take my spear quite yet. She might not be stubborn Dani but she was laser-focus-on-the-point-at-hand Jada, and I suspected as long as she continued holding it, she would remain where she was until she saw her goal accomplished.

“Otherwise you wouldn’t care if I remained alive,” I said, stating her unstated implication.

“Otherwise it wouldn’t signify.”

I deflected the pain of the jab, remaining focused on her, realizing I might have a unique insight into Jada. How had I forgotten I’d once gone away and come back different myself? When I believed I’d killed Barrons, grief and rage had turned me into a cold, hyperfocused bitch. Jada might never tell me what she’d gone through in the Silvers but it was a sure thing it hadn’t been a walk in the park. How would someone have reached me during those days and nights of unyielding obsession when I’d found it perfectly reasonable to sleep with my sister’s lover and plot the destruction of the world? Could anyone have? “I know you’re not Da—not the person we remember. I’d like to get to know you now.”

“Take the spear. I am what you see. There is no getting to know me.”

“I’d like to hear about your time in the Silvers.” Perhaps the right actions could have thawed me back then. Maybe love, if someone had been able to rattle me enough to feel it. I did recall enough of those dark days to know the last people in the world I’d wanted to see were my parents. Jack Lane would have disturbed me deeply. Staying savage and psychotic would have been extremely difficult around the man who’d taught me to be everything but. What might penetrate Jada’s icy facade? “I want to know what your life was like.”

“My life is now.”

“Jada, I’m sorry I chased you that night. I wish I could do it over again. Keep you from going through.”

“Once again implying that I am a mistake. That I came back wrong.” She looked at Barrons and Ryodan, who were standing behind me in silence. “How does one get her to focus?”

I snatched the spear from Jada’s hand. “Bees.” I changed the subject that was clearly as dead as a three-day corpse. “And bats. I wasn’t out here taking a cheery stroll through your gardens. I was investigating. Figure out how to keep the damn things from getting sucked into that hole or we’ll be tearing down the abbey.”

“No one is tearing down my abbey. This evening,” Jada said. “Galway. Three miles east of town there is one of these anomalies much higher in the air. Bring Dancer. I’ll meet you there.”

“This evening, Chester’s,” Ryodan said flatly. “That’s where we’ll be. Unless you think you can save the world alone.”

Jada was motionless a moment then, “The map I saw—”

“The map Dani saw,” he corrected.

“—I assume you’ve continued tracking the anomalies.”

“Every bloody one. And there are more than there were. You’re missing information. I have it.”

“Tonight, then. Chester’s.” She turned and freeze-framed out.

Dawn was pressing at the edges of the drapes by the time Jada sought her private quarters to sleep for a few hours. It had been three days since she’d last rested, and she wanted to be sharp for the meeting tonight.

Working with a team was so much more complicated than working alone. But none of the things she’d learned Silverside had the least effect on the growing tears in the fabric of their reality. Closing the doors on Cruce had been difficult but doable. Not a single ward or spell she’d mastered affected the black holes. She’d tested them exhaustively on the smaller, isolated ones.

Long ago she’d have pursued her investigation alone, but she’d lost too much and was unwilling to lose more. The girl she’d once been was impulsive, to her own detriment. Jada had conditioned herself to pause before acting. She was uncomfortably aware that very pause might be why she’d failed to predict the Crimson Hag’s moves on the cliff. Intellect and gut were two vastly different things, with disparate strengths and weaknesses.

Imperfect as a child. Imperfect as a woman. But at least she could choose her imperfections.

The Dragon Lady’s library in the east wing was her domain, locked, warded, and spelled so nothing could get in or out unless she permitted it. Inside the ornate yet comfortable book-filled chambers was everything she needed to survive. And a few things she’d gathered for no discernible reason.

Seeing Dancer had been uncomfortable. The others she’d managed with nominal discomfort, reminding herself of one past incident or another, mortaring the wall between them.

Not Dancer. They’d had a single argument long ago about boundaries and friendship, about letting each other breathe, but it had steamed off like fog on a sunny morning.

He’d accepted her on first sight, had said, “Jada,” letting her know right off the bat they were fine, the same as his hand had always held easy, letting her stay or go. He’d said, “Welcome home,” and meant it, smiled, and it was genuine, with none of the rejection she saw in other people’s faces.

Mac, too, seemed different, but Jada had no desire to ponder it.

She moved into the second room of the chamber, draping various bits of shirts and towels and throws over lamps and sconces as she went, dimming the lights. Thanks to Cruce, all lights burned at all hours, and she hadn’t yet fathomed how to degrade that particular magic. She no longer feared Shades in the abbey. Her sidhe-seers had exterminated the last of them.

When she reached the bed, she rummaged beneath it and removed a small wooden box containing various items she’d collected upon her return to the city. She withdrew a folded piece of paper smudged with chocolate, sat on the bed, undid her hair, and ran her fingers through it.

Time. Both enemy and ally.

They thought she’d lost five and a half years of her life. She hadn’t. She’d lived them. They were the ones who’d lost five and a half years of her life. And held it against her.

Absurd.

She turned to gaze at handwritten words she knew by heart.

Kill the clocks, those time-thieving bastards

Haunting every mantel, wrist, and wall

Incessantly screaming our time is gone

Marching to war with us all

Kill the clocks they remind me of people

I once met in passing that pushed me aside

To rush to their train or plane or bus

Never seeing where the true enemy lie

Kill the clocks before they’ve seduced you

Into existing as they do, in shadows of the past

Counting the days as they slip by us

Boxed into a world where nothing ever lasts

Kill the clocks and live in the moment

No cogs or gears can steal our now

When you laugh with me, Mega, time stands still

In that moment, I’m perfect somehow

She touched the chocolate stain. It was a lifetime ago that Dancer had given her this poem, the same night he’d given her a bracelet she’d lost in the Silvers. Securely tied, it had been sacrifice that or her hand. At one point or another she’d sacrificed most everything.

“What a mess,” Shazam muttered crossly. He was sprawled in the middle of the bed, on a mound of pillows, peering over her arm. He yawned, baring enormous teeth and a curled-up black-tipped pink tongue. “Not a bit of it works. It should be ‘lay’ not ‘lie.’ What does manage to flow has been bastardized for the sake of the rhyme. Awkward.”

“Those who can’t, critique.”

“As if clocks can be killed, and even if they could I hardly think enlightenment would suddenly descend on such a primitive race, granting the ability to grasp complex temporal truths. Why do you insist on remaining with these three-dimensional people? There’s no question one of you will manage to destroy this world. Sooner rather than later. We should move on now. Did you bring me something to eat?” he said plaintively. “Something with blood and a heartbeat?” His whiskers trembled in anticipation.

“There are power bars—”

He sniffed. “A misnomer if I ever heard one. Not only don’t they confer any appreciable power, I’m quite certain they sap mine. They taste bad and make me depressed.” His violet eyes grew dewy.

“Everything makes you depressed. If you ever got out of bed—”

“What point is there in getting out of bed when you make me stay in these stuffy, dirty chambers?”

“I don’t make you do anything. I merely asked—”

“Your ‘asks,’ boulders around my neck,” he said woefully. “I’m as unseen as I was on Olean.”

“That makes two of us.” Refolding the poem along the creases, she tucked it back into the box, stretched out on the bed, sword at her side, and closed her eyes. She didn’t undress. She never undressed. Sleeping was dangerous enough. She’d had enough of waking up to battle nude. Although it had certain advantages—blood was much easier to wash off and it often disconcerted the hell out of a human male enemy—she preferred not to.

Shazam got up immediately, turned around three times, lay back down then bounded right back up, bristling so hard the mattress vibrated. “You smell bad. Like a predator. I’m not going to be able to sleep with you smelling up my air. Who touched you? Why did they?”

“I’m not taking a shower,” she said without opening her eyes. “I’m too tired. Besides, we’ve both smelled worse.”

“Fine. I’m not cuddling, then.”

“I didn’t ask you to cuddle. I never ask you to cuddle. I don’t even use that word.”

“You don’t have to. Your expects, bars on my cage.”

“I merely suggested in exchange for grooming, since you have all that fur and blaze like a small sun, you might keep me warm. Some of those worlds were cold.” And still, she often felt she had ice in her bones.

“It’s not cold here. And you haven’t groomed me all day. It was a long day. I was alone the whole time. Because you make me stay in here.”

“You would attract too much attention out there.”

“I would stay in a higher dimension.”

“Until you thought you might get some attention.”

“I like attention.”

“I don’t.”

“Did you ever like attention?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You’re ashamed of me. Because I’m fat. That’s why you don’t want them to see me.”

She slit her eyes open just barely, lids heavy. “I’m not ashamed of you. And you’re not fat.”

“Look at my belly,” he said tearfully, clutching it with both paws and jiggling.

She smiled. “I like your belly. I think it’s a perfectly wonderful belly, all soft and round.” Yesterday, he’d been convinced his ears were too big. The day before that it had been something wrong with his tail.

“Maybe you’re ashamed of yourself. You should be. The fur behind my ears is getting matted.”

“You’re beautiful, Shazam. I’ll groom you tomorrow,” Jada said sleepily.

“It’s already tomorrow.”

She sighed and stretched out her hand. Shazam head-butted it ecstatically.

Jada worked her fingers into the long fur behind his ears and began gently detangling. It was beyond her how he got so matted all the time when he slept most of the day and rarely left the bed.

He turned his face up, eyes slanting half closed with bliss and rumbled in his broad chest. “I see you, Yi-yi.”

Yi-yi was what he’d named her that day long ago on Olean when she’d named him. He’d been saying the same words to her every time she awakened or fell asleep for four years, and wouldn’t rest until she said it back.

“I see you, too, Shazam.”

Sometime later they curled together and slept as they had on so many worlds, Shazam’s head nestled on a pillow of her hair in the hollow between her neck and shoulder, one paw wrapped around her arm, one leg sticking straight up in the air, twitching as he dreamed.