Boaz was gone, his side of the bed cold, by the time I woke with my heart lodged in my throat. A small mercy. I preferred keeping the nightmare to myself. As I made my way downstairs, I hunted for signs of the Siblings Pritchard. Though I suppose they technically weren’t that anymore. Their muted voices lured me downstairs, and I padded toward them, freezing on the staircase when I realized I was the topic of conversation.

“I was asleep down the hall,” Amelie was saying. “That’s way too close for that to be happening.”

“That didn’t happen,” Boaz countered. “I might be a dog, but I can resist leg humping an injured woman.”

Amelie burst out laughing. “Since when?”

“Since Grier,” he said with an edge that killed the conversation dead on the spot.

“I’m kidding. Sheesh.” A spoon clanged against the side of a bowl. “I tease Grier all the time. I used to anyway. Mostly we just tiptoe around each other and avoid topics more controversial than the weather.”

“You guys will be okay.”

“I almost killed her,” she rasped. “How can she forgive that?”

“She loves you. That’s how.” Chair legs raked across the tile, and she grunted. No doubt she was the unwitting recipient of one of his bear hugs. “I love you too. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Her voice came out muffled, and I had no problem imagining her face turned into his shoulder. “I wish you loved me less.”

“Nothing doing,” he murmured. “You’re my sister.”

With a great sigh, she resumed clicking her spoon. “Some choices can’t be forgiven.”

“I don’t expect absolution,” he said grimly. “I don’t want it, and I don’t deserve it.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“So am I,” he breathed. “So am I.”

A cold stone dropped into the pit of my stomach, but I had no way to ask what he meant without revealing I had been eavesdropping on them.

Amelie cleared her throat. “How is Macon?”

“He’s heartbroken. He doesn’t understand why you don’t live at home, why he can’t talk to you. Goddess only knows what those two told him.” Not Mom and Dad, but those two. “He called me after his first day back to school. The kids are…” A growl revved up his throat. “You know how cruel kids can be.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” A hiccupping sob broke through her chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“But you did.” Gravel churned in his voice. “Now we have to live with the consequences.”

Feeling like a creeper, I backed off up the stairs then made a clomping entrance. Amelie didn’t glance up, she was too busy blotting her cheeks dry, but Boaz swept his gaze down my body and left me tingling down to my toes.

“Hello, gorgeous.” He puckered up and tapped his lips. “You gotta pay the toll.”

“This is my house.” I moseyed over, helpless to resist that teasing glint in his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be the one paying me?”

“Hmm.” He appeared to consider this. “Good point.”

Faster than I could squeak, he was out of his chair and gunning for me. I made it three steps into the living room before his arms banded around my waist, and he lifted me off my feet. He peppered the side of my neck with kisses while he swung me in a dizzying circle. Right when I was starting to be thankful for my empty stomach, he laid me on the couch then climbed over me, pinning my hands to either side of my head.

A furious blush rose up my throat. “Amelie is in the kitchen.”

“Amelie is a grown woman.” He lowered his voice while pressing his lips against my ear. “I’m pretty sure she knows how this works.”

“There better not be anything working out there,” she called from the bar. “I have a full stomach, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Cackling at his indignant expression, I wriggled my hips. “You are kind of smooshing me.”

“Sorry, Squirt.” He leveraged himself off me. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Nah.” I sat up along with him, straddled his thighs, and plastered myself against his chest. “I liked it.”

His brows quirked. “Then why…?”

A loud rumble in my stomach told him I had breakfast on my mind.

“Want me to whip up some grub for you?” He brushed his fingers along the uninjured side of my jaw. “There are plenty of waffles and syrup to go around.”

“As tempting as that sounds, Heinz told me I’m on a liquid diet for the next few days.” I touched my cheek. “It doesn’t hurt as much today, but I’m not putting pressure on it, either.” I swiped my tongue along the backside of my teeth. “Oddly enough, my tongue feels as good as new.”

That probably had something to do with the amount of magic Linus had channeled into healing me.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Concern tightened his expression. “Still, you should eat something before you go.”

Hating to ruin the moment, I saw no way around telling him the truth. Especially since I was certain that Amelie had already spilled those beans. “I usually eat with Linus.”

“Ah.” He gripped my hips and set me on the floor in front of him. “Well, that’s okay, I guess.” He rubbed his hands over his scalp. “I can see how it might have been lonely over here until Amelie moved in.”

The faintest suggestion I ought to bail on Linus threaded his words, but he didn’t press me on the issue, and I was grateful not to have to shoot him down. Breakfast at the carriage house was part of my nightly routine. Depending on the menu, I often left convinced it was the best part. I wouldn’t miss that date for anything less than…

Fiddlesticks.

Date was not the right word. Even in my head, it sounded too dangerous.

“I should get going.” I hooked my thumbs in my belt loops. “Are you guys still watching a movie?”

“That’s the plan.” He did the same, not pushing for more, just holding on like he wanted to keep me here with him. “How long do these lessons of yours last?”

“Two hours on a good night. Four on bad ones. Six if I’m a total dunce.” My hand cramped just thinking about the last eight-hour stint I earned for utterly failing one of Linus’s infamous pop quizzes. “I’m still working aboard the Cora Ann part-time, so I have a freer schedule these days.”

Boaz gave a sharp tug. “Has Cricket mentioned Amelie?”

“Neely says Cricket was ready to kick puppies when Amelie called in and quit. She’s been a fixture at Haint Misbehavin’ for years. She was one of their most dependable ghost tour guides.” I gave a helpless shrug. “I report to Cricket once a week on the Cora Ann’s progress, but I’m not around to hear more gossip about Amelie if there is any.”

That wasn’t what he was really asking, though.

“Amelie had a solid alibi,” I reassured him. “Everyone knows she’s been working toward her degree. Her cover story about spending six months as an intern at a firm in Atlanta isn’t that big of a stretch.” I glanced toward the kitchen, but Amelie was nowhere in sight. “She ought to be able to pick up her job and her schooling right where she left off.”

“Let’s hope.” He squeezed my fingers. “I want her reentry to be as normal as possible.”

For a Low Society necromancer, life wouldn’t be that altered. In the big-picture sense, at least. Most of them worked human jobs, attended human schools, and led human lives. Some even married humans, though the difference in lifespans made such unions bittersweet.

Amelie could resume her job as a Haint, and she could return to college, but she would never step foot in the Lyceum again. Her days of attending lavish moonlit balls and studying under her mother as the spare heir were over. Her ties to the Pritchard family had been cut, and most Low Society families would be hesitant to risk ostracism for welcoming her into their midst.

“Me too.” I kissed his cheek then twisted out of reach before he distracted me again. “Do not leave without telling me goodbye.”

His answering grin was wicked. “Yes, ma’am.”

After gathering Keet and my grimoire, I passed through the kitchen on my way to eat with Linus.

Amelie must have slipped out while Boaz had me otherwise occupied. Unsurprising since her threshold for PDA was nonexistent where he was concerned. I couldn’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to watch my brother tickling my best friend’s tonsils with his tongue either.

A pang struck each time it hit me she had traded on her family name for power that had almost killed me.

Miserable all over again, I plodded the rest of the way to the carriage house where the closed-door policy irked me for no reason. I knocked, but Linus never appeared. Leaning in, I pressed my ear to the door and heard a loud whirring-grinding noise. Curious, I decided that since he must be expecting me, I could let myself in.

Linus was, as usual, in the kitchen. But this time, he manned a fancy blender I knew hadn’t been in the cupboards when he moved in. Its throaty growl would have given Jolene a run for her money. No wonder he hadn’t heard me.

Jars of supplements littered the counter along with fresh fruit sliced into cubes, two percent milk—bleck—and a tub of protein powder. The mixture swirling in the glass basin was pink enough to remind me of strawberries, but I had my doubts about its tastiness based on the rest of his arsenal.

Honestly, who put grass in their shakes? Wheat or otherwise?

I meandered up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Turns out Linus was not a fan of surprises.

A wraithlike cloak flickered in my vision, overlaying his usual slacks-and-dress-shirt combo, to ripple in a wave of black mist that lapped at my ankles, a frigid pond I had waded into without taking the first step.

Though he had been busily blending since I arrived, his back to me, he was now in my personal space. His nose was an inch from mine. Less. And his icy fingers trapped the wrist of the hand that had touched him.

Ink spilled across his eyes until I was staring into a fathomless pool of still waters that lapped against the shores of my mind, eroding the memories I kept caged until I gasped and stumbled back.

“Linus?” I massaged my wrist, not because he had been rough, but because his glacial touch stung.

Midnight eyes dropped to my hand, and his lips tipped downward. “I hurt you.”

“No,” I rushed out, breathless. “I’m just cold.”

“I’m sorry.” He turned from me and braced his hands on the sink. “You startled me.”

“I let myself in. It was totally my fault.” This time I didn’t take liberties without first alerting him. “Linus?” I rested my hand on his shoulder, and the fabric crunched like frostbitten blades of grass. I forced myself to leave my fingers where they settled instead of jerking back on instinct. That seemed important somehow. “Next time I’ll wait until you answer the door.”

A shudder moved through him, and he covered my hand with his. Gooseflesh coasted down my arms, but I didn’t budge as he turned his head, his fogged breath skating over my skin. “That might be for the best, though you’re always welcome here.” He huffed out a laugh. “It is your house, after all.”

Manners ingrained in me and every other High Society girl since birth breached the surface.

“You’re living here. That makes it your home too.” Home wasn’t the word I’d meant to use, but the quick jerk of his head toward me and the surprise glinting in his eyes—a crisp blue that reminded me of the ocean during storms—made me glad I had misspoken. “You get to make the house rules.”

Linus might have started out as an uninvited guest, but the truth was I liked having him around. Early on, I made no secret of how unhappy I was about the arrangement. The Grande Dame offering hospitality as if Woolly were her home tweaked my tail, but it had been rude of me to take it out on him.

The guy had saved my life when the dybbuk attacked.

As far as I was concerned, I owed him mints on his pillow each dawn.

A sliver of warmth brightened his expression. “I appreciate that.”

“So…” I cleared my throat and took a seat. “What’s on the agenda for the night?”

“Breakfast first.” He returned to the blender, flipped it off, then poured me a tall glass of his concoction and a smaller one for himself. “You still like strawberries?”

“I do.” Chocolate-covered strawberries were one of my favorite treats. “That explains the pink.”

“I researched protein shake recipes. I hoped mixing in the fresh fruit would help with the taste.”

“You stayed up working on this?” He must have made a grocery run while I was sleeping. “I can buy protein shakes at the store, and cans of soup. You don’t have to put yourself out.”

“I don’t mind.” He stabbed bendy straws into our glasses, having realized from our last meal that silverware was part of the illusion, and joined me at the table. “You don’t have to worry about my feelings.” He handed me my breakfast. “Tell me if you don’t like it, and I’ll make something else.”

“Here we go.” I took a hesitant sip and let the smoothie melt on my tongue. “Goddess.”

Linus swirled his straw through his pink drink. “Is invocation this time of night a good thing or a bad thing?”

“How do you know how to do all this?” I took another pull. “You’re like a kitchen ninja.”

A pleased smile broke across his face. “I enjoy cooking.”

“You know that saying?” I said around a third slurp. “Jack of all trades, master of none?”

His pleasure dimmed a few watts. “Yes.”

“They never met you.” The cold numbed the inside of my mouth, and the dull ache in my jaw faded to nothing. “It’s ridiculous that you excel at everything.”

“Not everything,” he murmured, his gaze colliding with the table. “Only what I can learn from books.”

“There are books on every topic imaginable.” I pinched my eyes closed after giving myself brain freeze. “You realize that, right?”

“True,” he allowed. “How about this? I’m better with books than people. Books I understand. People…”

Seeing where this was headed, I squinted up at him while my brain thawed.

“You have to talk to people, hang out with them, observe them, to get them,” I explained gently. His mouth opened, and somehow I knew what was about to pop out. “Teaching doesn’t count. Your students don’t act like themselves around you. They want to impress you. You’re going to see the best versions of them. Same for faculty. They’re going to posture with you because of who you are.” I glanced around the carriage house. “Are you going out at all?”

“Yes.”

“Society business doesn’t count. Neither do covert ops.” Chatting up Volkov and doing goddess knows what else he did in the name of science was not social interaction. “Have you visited any of your friends since you arrived? Or family?”

The hand stirring his drink stilled. “No.”

“Why not?” I kicked him under the table. “You’ve got time to get out and have a life while you’re here.”

“I don’t consider anyone I left behind in Savannah to be a friend, and family is…complicated.”

“Oh.” Considering my inner circle included a pair of siblings, a house, and a parakeet, I wasn’t one to talk. Neely and Marit were friends too, but they were also human, and yes, complicated. “What about your friends in Atlanta?”

“We’ve chatted.” Genuine fondness softened his expression. “Mary Alice is threatening to drive down for a weekend. So is Oslo. He wants to pick up some sketches I’ve been working on. I offered to scan them, but he wants the originals and doesn’t trust the postal system. He’s a bit of a conspiracy theorist.”

“Are Mary Alice and Oslo an item?” I flexed my straw back and forth. “Or…?”

Laughter exploded from him, lighting up his entire face until even his eyes shone bright. For a minute, I worried he might rupture something the way he was carrying on. I had never seen him do more than an under-his-breath huff of amusement. I hadn’t thought him capable of full-on belly laughs.

“No.” He cleared his throat a few times. “Mary Alice is like a den mother to everyone who works at the Mad Tatter—the tattoo shop where I apprenticed. She appears to be a well-preserved sixty-seven, though I suspect her true age is closer to four hundred and sixty-seven. Oslo is seventeen. He’s an intern.”

I hadn’t noticed the slight pressure building in my chest until it eased after hearing Mary Alice wasn’t…

No. Absolutely not. No with a side order of no way, no how. Nah-uh.

Who Linus dated was none of my business. I didn’t like him in that way. I didn’t think of him in that way. He was family. Sort of. We grew up together.

You grew up with Boaz too, a helpful inner voice reminded me. But Linus was the Grande Dame’s son. I couldn’t trust him. Sure, he had saved my life, but—but—

Goddessdamn Boaz for putting the idea of Linus as, well, a man, in my head in the first place.

Groaning, I wedged my elbows against the table and covered my face with my hands.

I was going to kill Boaz. Except I could never admit to him why he needed to die, or he’d murder Linus.

Cool fingers brushed my knuckles. “Are you all right?”

“Brain freeze.” I lowered my hands and smiled weakly. “Hate when that happens.”

Except my glass was empty. Noticing this, Linus passed his over in case I wanted more. I stared at the straw, hoping he thought I was wondering if it had cooties instead of being curious if his mouth had—

Fiddlesticks.

Fire consumed my cheeks in a raging inferno that made my jaw heat like infection had set in. Too bad that didn’t excuse the sting racing across the rest of my face.

“You’re flush.” Linus still held my hand. “Do you have a fever?”

“Maybe?” Anything was better than admitting what was on my mind. Namely him. “I don’t feel so good.”

For as long as I could remember, I had wanted one thing, and that one thing was Boaz Pritchard.

Now I had him, some days more than others, and I was blushing over drinking after Linus.

Ridiculous. Absurd. Impossible. Ludicrous.

I didn’t like Linus. I didn’t want Linus. I didn’t find Linus attractive.

He has pretty hair.

“No,” I grumbled. “He doesn’t.”

I clamped my jaw shut, winced, but it was too late. The words had already tumbled out for him to hear.

“I’m calling Heinz.” Linus punched in the number he must have gotten from Taz. “He’s not my first choice, but you seem to have a history.” His mouth pinched. “This is Linus Lawson. I’m calling on behalf of Grier Woolworth.”

Shaking my head frantically, I tugged on the cuff of his shirt. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Her face is scalding,” he told Heinz. “She was talking to herself. I worry she might be delusional.” His shoulders stiffened. “I didn’t realize. I’ll call over there.” He ended the conversation, and his expression shuttered. “Boaz is here.”

“He got in early this morning.”

“I don’t have a thermometer, and my hands…” He lifted them, palms up. “I can’t determine others’ body temperatures well thanks to mine running lower than most.” He scowled at his fingers like they had individually banded together to betray him. “Call him.”

Linus drifted to the sink and started washing the blender, the measuring cups, and the spoons he’d used, a sure sign he was agitated. Yeah, he liked to clean when he needed to think, but what was he thinking? Better yet, what was I thinking?

“I’ll just go home.” I pushed away from the table and stood. “I’ll feel better after a nap.”

A hundred years of sleep might clip the thorns off the prickly idea Boaz had planted.

“I’ll go with you to the doctor if Boaz needs to leave.” He kept his back to me. “I won’t make you do it alone.”

“That’s not…” I crossed my arms over my stomach. “You don’t have to do that.”

“All right.” Tension curved his shoulders as he dried a bowl and set it aside. “Suit yourself.”

“I need to learn to be okay alone.” I crossed to him and kept my gaze on the bubbles in the sink. “I can’t expect you or Boaz or Amelie to drop everything and run to my rescue all the time.” To prove my point, I washed out my glass. “I can do this on my own.”

“I understand.” He swung his head toward me, his eyes searching mine. “You need to feel like your actions don’t set a domino effect into motion with everyone around you.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “That’s exactly it.”

“Amelie was wrong to blame you for what she did to herself.” He pulled the plug in the sink. “There’s nothing wrong with having friends who love you enough to drop everything and come when you call. The problem is those friends blaming you when the things they drop shatter.” The swirl of gurgling water held his attention. “Our actions have consequences, Grier. We are all responsible for what we do—or don’t do—and that’s it.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” I curled my fingers into my palm to avoid touching his hand before I left, a recent habit I ought to work on breaking. “Do you want to assign me homework before I go?”

“No.” His forearms flexed when he gripped the sink, the strain a fine tremor in his muscles. “You should rest. I’ll bring over dinner later.” His head lifted, brow pinched. “Unless you’re going out with Boaz?”

“No.” I rested my hand on his shoulder before my brain threw on the brakes, but I couldn’t ignore the way his muscles relaxed under that small contact, like my touch soothed him. “Dinner sounds great.”

I lingered a moment longer, watching him for signs the black cloak might emerge as it had earlier, but he kept control of whatever I had unleashed, and it got awkward with me standing there, staring at him. There was no point in peppering him with questions. No matter what I asked, he would say it was a side effect of bonding with his wraith.

He told me once that he had never lied to me.

I didn’t want him to start now.