Betty shook her head, her jaw set in the stubborn expression that Hope found both exasperating and ridiculously adorable. “I still don’t like it. He’s not right.”

“Hugh’s been through a lot,” Hope argued. “You can’t expect him to be all sunshine and smiles straight away. He’s still a good guy.”

They were sitting at Hugh’s kitchen table, ostensibly catching up on the homework that they’d both missed over the past few days. In reality, Hope hadn’t actually read so much as a word of the biology textbook spread open between them. She kept getting distracted by the sweep of Betty’s long eyelashes, the taut line of her neck, the full curves of her—

“What?” Betty said.

Hope jerked her eyes back to the textbook. “Nothing. Just—nothing.”

Mitochondria. Cell wall. Hope tried to concentrate on the words, instead of the thought of Betty’s soft, full lips. So kissable. No, bad brain! Mustn’t think of that sort of thing!

If Betty had had those sort of feelings for her, surely the ideal moment to have confessed them would have been just after the hellhound had so dramatically—not to mention romantically—saved Hope’s life. But she hadn’t. So Hope couldn’t say anything either.

After all, Betty was a shifter. Surely she could sense how Hope’s pulse raced whenever they were together, how her fingers shook whenever they accidentally bumped hands reaching for the same pen. And if they were meant for each other, Betty would have known. The fact that she hadn’t said anything…meant that they weren’t.

Sometimes, Hope really wished that she was a shifter. It must be nice, never falling for the wrong person.

“Anyway, I still don’t like you staying here, in his house,” Betty said, continuing the argument. “Especially with your sister. It’s not safe. What if there was an accident?”

“I’ve lived with Ivy my whole life, and her venom hasn’t killed me yet,” Hope said, both annoyed and touched by Betty’s concern. “There’s nothing different there.”

Betty pursed her lips in a way that made Hope earnestly stare at her cell diagram again. “Yeah, but…there is. She’s not all there either. I mean, I don’t blame her from being preoccupied. If my m-mate—” she stumbled a little on the word, “was hurt like Hugh, I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else either. But I worry that means Ivy might get careless when it comes to keeping you safe.”

“Ivy will never hurt me,” Hope said, with complete certainty. “She’s never careless. So stop worrying.”

Betty blew out her breath, looking frustrated. “I can’t. I can’t help it. I think about what could happen, and—if there was an accident, it’s not like Hugh could heal you any more.”

Hope couldn’t help flinching a little at the brutal statement, even though it was only the truth. She’d been very carefully trying not to think about Hugh’s healing powers…or, more specifically, his half-complete cure.

She had no way of knowing how much of the venom in her body he’d managed to neutralize before he lost his powers. She still felt better than she had in years, but was this just a temporary reprieve? Would she wake up tomorrow or next week or next year with the familiar pain biting at her, paralysis slowly creeping further up her body?

It had almost been better when she’d known that she wouldn’t live to see her thirtieth birthday.

Betty must have caught her reaction, because she flinched as well, looking stricken. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of—you know.”

Hope pasted a smile onto her face, the familiar one that she usually deployed to reassure Ivy. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. If nothing else, I’m still pain-free. I’m grateful just for that.”

Betty eyed her sidelong without speaking for a moment. There was something unusually hesitant about her manner. She was usually so bold and direct, it unnerved Hope to see the shifter clearly searching for words.

“You know,” the hellhound said tentatively, “it’s okay to be upset, or mad, or whatever you feel. You lost your chance of a cure for your illness. That’s a big thing too.”

Hope could feel the corners of her mouth wanting to wobble. She smiled harder, forcing brightness into her tone. “Oh, I never expected to live a normal lifespan anyway. I haven’t lost anything really. Not compared to poor Hugh.”

Betty put her hand on top of Hope’s, resting on the table. The hellhound’s skin was hot, so hot. Hope burned at the touch, a strange wave of heat prickling over her entire body.

“You have,” Betty said, very quietly. “And you don’t have to pretend you haven’t. Not with me.”

They sprang apart guiltily as Ivy came into the kitchen. Hope was certain that her shifter sister would instantly pick up on the electric tension in the air, but Ivy didn’t make any comment. She just gave them a preoccupied nod on her way to the sink.

Betty’s right, Hope realized with a twinge of concern as she watched Ivy take one of her special, red-banded cups out of the Box o’ Death. She’s not herself.

Her sister might not be going literally catatonic, but her eyes held a hint of the same haunted, thousand-yard stare as Hugh’s did whenever he blanked out. She’d been distant ever since she’d talked to Fire Commander Ash a few days ago. Hope didn’t know what they’d discussed, but it was clearly still preying on Ivy’s mind.

“Hey, where were you last night?” Hope asked, hoping to fish for clues as to what was going on inside her sister’s head. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Went back to our apartment,” Ivy muttered as she filled her glass at the sink. “I’m sleeping there at the moment.”

Hope exchanged a startled look with Betty. “Really? Why?”

“Just…keeping an eye on it. Don’t want anyone breaking in and trashing the place.”

“I could house-sit for you,” Betty volunteered, to Hope’s surprise. “I could look after Hope there too. So you and your mate could be alone together here.”

Ivy choked on her water. “No! Uh, that is, thanks. But no.”

“Why not?” Hope demanded.

Inwardly, her mind was doing backflips. And her stomach. Had Betty actually just proposed that they move in together? Even if it was just as roommates…

“It’s a brilliant idea! You could concentrate on Hugh, and we wouldn’t have to worry about keeping all our dishes and laundry and stuff separate, and it would solve so many problems.” Words tumbled uncontrollably out of her mouth, as if she could change Ivy’s mind if she just talked fast enough. “We’re paid up until the end of the month, so it’s just sitting empty. And Betty needs a place to stay, and—”

“You do?” Ivy interrupted, turning to Betty. “Why? I thought you had a place, at that special home for orphaned shifters.”

The hellhound squirmed in her seat, shooting Hope an accusing glare. “I thought we weren’t going to tell her about this. You said she had enough to deal with already.”

Hope dismissed this with an airy wave. “That was when it was a problem without a solution. Go on, tell her.”

“The home might not be open for much longer,” Betty said reluctantly. “It was almost entirely funded through Gaze’s charity. He genuinely did put a lot of money into it—he grew up on the streets himself. With him out of the picture, well…” She shrugged. “There aren’t a lot of shifter foster families to start with. Let alone ones eager to take in hellhounds and other monsters.”

“You’re not a monster,” Hope and Ivy said together.

Betty flashed a grin. “Thanks, but you guys are biased. Anyway, if you aren’t going to be using your old place, I could sublet it from you. I can pay,” she added quickly, as Ivy opened her mouth. “I’ve got an evening job, and I’m gonna look for another. And as soon as I finish school, I can work more.”

“No, then you’ll be going to university on full scholarship, like me,” Hope said firmly, ignoring Betty’s expressive eye-roll. “I have it all planned out. So you just need a place to stay for a year. Come on, Ivy. Say yes. It’s perfect.”

“I’ll…think about it.” Ivy’s head suddenly jerked up, and an alarmed expression flashed across her face.

“What is it?” Hope asked, and then heard the footsteps moving around upstairs herself. “Oh, Hugh's up. Do you think that means he’s—”

“I gotta go,” Ivy interrupted, abandoning her half-finished glass of water on the kitchen counter. “Tell him—tell him I’ve gone out to work.”

“But-” Hope started, but Ivy had already disappeared out the back door. She exchanged a puzzled look with Betty.

“Is it just me,” Betty asked in an undertone, “or was that really weird?”

“Was what really weird?” Hugh had come into the room, barefoot. He wore jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a rather groggy expression. His hair stuck up in unruly spikes on one side, tousled from bed.

“Nothing,” Hope said quickly. “Hey, you’re up early today!”

Hugh blinked blearily at the clock. “It’s nearly eleven.”

“Yeah, but the past few days we haven’t seen you before one,” Hope pointed out. “Are you feeling better?”

Hugh stopped in the middle of reaching for a cupboard. Hope’s heart sank as the by-now familiar blank look crept across his face, his mouth going slack.

A soft growl escaped Betty’s mouth. The hellhound’s eyes were fixed on the motionless Hugh, her lips wrinkling back to expose her teeth.

“Stop it, Betty!” Hope hissed. Then, louder but more gently: “Hugh? Hello?”

He started, his outstretched hand dropping back to his side. “Sorry. Just…listening. Yes, I’m feeling better.” A hint of the lost look crept into his pale eyes. “I think.”

“Well, that’s good!” Hope said brightly. Under the table, she poked Betty. “Isn’t that good, Betty?”

The hellhound finally managed to choke off her growling, though she was still physically drawn back in her chair as if Hugh was a particularly large spider. “Yeah. Great. Uh, listen, I just remembered, I have a…thing.”

Hope narrowed her eyes at her. “No, you don’t.”

Hugh let out a soft huff of sardonic laughter. “It’s fine, Hope. Let Betty go and do her…thing.”

The hellhound didn’t need to be invited twice. With an apologetic glance at Hope, she grabbed her bag and made a dash for the door.

“Rude,” Hope muttered. She started stacking up the discarded homework. “I’m so sorry, Hugh. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

“That’s because you aren’t a shifter,” he said, rather dryly. He opened a cupboard. “Speaking of which, where’s Ivy?”

“She, uh, had to go out.”

“Oh.” Hugh closed the cupboard again without taking anything out, and moved on to the next one. “Is that ‘had to go out’ as in the same way that Betty had to go do ‘a thing’?”

“Um.” Hope wasn’t sure whether to be glad or dismayed by this unexpected flash of his previous sarcasm. “Yes.”

His mouth twisted a little. “Thought so.”

Hope bit her lip, watching him for a few minutes. He kept opening cupboards and drawers, staring at the contents blankly, and then closing them...only to reopen them again a moment later.

“Hugh?” she ventured, about the third time he randomly inspected his plates. “What are you looking for?”

He stilled. “I’m…not sure. Nothing, actually.”

Nonetheless, he took out a glass, and poured himself some water. Drink in hand, he leaned back against the kitchen counter, shooting her a slight, strained smile.

“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” he said. “No wonder Ivy’s avoiding me.”

Reversing out from behind the table, Hope wheeled herself closer to him. “Things aren’t okay with you guys, are they.”

He shook his head, looking weary. “Things are about as far from okay as it is possible to be. Whatever she talked to Ash about—and I have a horrible suspicion that I know what it was—it clearly didn’t go the way that she wanted. And now she doesn’t even want to be in the same room as me.”

“What did she talk to Ash about?” Hope asked.

He took a long drink of his water before answering. “I think she asked him to burn out her wyvern.”

“What, again?” Hope frowned, puzzled. “Why?”

Hugh made a sweeping hand gesture at himself. “Because of me. So that we can touch.”

Hope shook her head, still not getting it. “Why would she need to lose her wyvern for that? You’re her true mate.”

Hugh stared at her. She stared back, in a moment of mutual confusion.

“I think,” Hugh said at last, putting down his glass, “that you’d better explain why you think that’s relevant.”

“Well, she’s venomous all the time because of her animal, right? Her wyvern is scared of everything, so it's always on the defensive. But it's not scared of you.” Hope shrugged. “So you should be able to touch her.”

Why was he still staring at her like that? Wasn’t all this painfully obvious?

“Haven't you even tried?” she asked.

“Ivy won’t let me near her. She said the thought of hurting me made her so nervous, her venom would be strong enough to kill on contact. You really think that I'm still immune?”

“Well, not exactly immune. I mean, you shouldn’t be sharing gloves or anything—her venom would still affect you if you came into contact with it. But don't you get it? You won't come into contact with it by touching her directly. Her wyvern won't want to hurt you, so if you get close to her, it will have to settle down.”

“So she wouldn't be venomous at all,” Hugh said slowly. “Not only to me, but to everyone.”

“Exactly! And once she’s turned off her venom once, maybe she’ll learn how to do it whenever she wants, even when you’re not around. You can help her relax enough to control it.” Excited, Hope wheeled right up to him, tugging at his arm. “You have to go after her, Hugh. Right now! You have to make her listen to you.”

Hugh let her pull him upright, but balked as she tried to urge him toward the door. “What if your theory is wrong?”

“It's not my theory,” Hope said. “It was our mom’s. She was always searching for her true mate. She wasn’t as venomous as Ivy, but she was still always a bit toxic. She was certain that if she could just find her mate, her wyvern would finally learn to chill out.”

Hugh ran a hand over his face, his expression so closed it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Does Ivy know about this?”

“Of course.” Hope hesitated, wrinkling her nose. “But I don’t think she believes it. She doesn't exactly have a great relationship with our mom. And Ivy’s always preferred to expect the worst possible outcome. That way she can’t be disappointed.”

“She’s scared to even try,” he said softly.

“Right! But you have to make her try, Hugh. Don't let her push you away. Just, just sweep her off her feet and kiss her!”

“Damn it, that's a tempting thought,” Hugh muttered. He picked up his glass of water, shaking his head slightly. “I don't know, Hope. I rushed into one irreversible decision, and look where it got me. I need to think about this.”

Hope opened her mouth to argue further…and then saw the red ring around the bottom of Hugh’s glass.

It wasn't his glass.

Ivy's never careless, she'd told Betty…but she had been. And now Hugh, oblivious, was raising her venom-contaminated drink to his mouth.

“Hugh, no!” Hope flung herself forward, with one hard, frantic push of her wheels. “Stop!”

The edge of her wheelchair crashed into his thighs, knocking him off-balance. Ivy’s glass slipped from his hand. As if in slow motion, Hope saw it tumble, glittering water droplets scattering outward in a deadly arc.

Straight into her own face.