Dawn warmed my shoulders as I drove Jolene out to Tybee Island. Her sultry purr after having Boaz’s hands on her kept my thoughts cycling back to him. A dollar. He’d sold me his bike, the one that cost him three summers’ worth of grass-cutting money, for a freaking dollar. And he hadn’t stopped there, either. He had more than changed her oil.

Golden light from the streetlamps caressed the fuel tank, her crimson and black paint glossy under the layers of wax he had lovingly applied after washing off the grime caked on her from months of hard use. It hadn’t slipped my notice that my gas tank was now sitting on full too.

He had laughed himself silly when he realized I still wore the jacket I had inherited from one of his exes. Jerk. Let him laugh. It’s not like I could afford to buy a new one, and it fit. Okay, fine. It zipped.

I wore a corset five nights a week. Breathing was overrated.

Ahead the road thinned to a single lane, and that was a generous assessment. I bumped along, avoiding potholes, until I reached a bungalow with mint-green siding and peppermint-pink shutters. White trim accented the eaves, and clear plastic sealed the windows to keep in the cool like the house was hard candy still in the wrapper.

I parked in the sandy driveway, shucked my gear and approached the front door. It swung open before I got there, and a tiny woman with dark brown skin and long white braids squinted at me through Coke-bottle glasses from the threshold.

“Ma coccinelle.” She removed her glasses and wiped the thick lenses on the hem of her faded tank top. “Tell me, bébé, this is today and not tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is still a day away, Odette.” I embraced her frail shoulders to anchor her in the present. “Sorry it took me so long to visit.”

Odette Lecomte was a seer, and she tended to get her yesterdays, todays and tomorrows scrambled.

People came from all over the world to invite her to sift their futures through her gnarled fingers. But her value, at least to me, wasn’t in her guidance, but in what treasures she had unearthed while divining possible eventualities. Her vast network of clients made her a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge both common and forbidden.

“Bah.” She held me at arm’s length and grinned through blackened teeth. “Wounded animals heal best in their dens. You owe no one an apology for doing whatever it takes to survive.”

The sentiment, so similar to Maud’s credo, left my eyes burning raw.

“Come inside.” She hauled me into her living room and shoved me down onto a plush sofa the off-white color of bones. “Tell Odette what you need, and you shall have it.”

“I made a new friend.” I held up my wrist and shook the bangle. “He gave me this. Any idea how to get it off?”

“Ma déesse.” She made the sign of the goddess. “Why would you want to do a crazy thing like that?”

Not the reaction I’d expected. “Are you saying I should wear it?”

“Evie and Maud didn’t agree on much where you were concerned, but neither wanted me to hold the power of your future in my hands. Both wanted you to forge your own path, make your own mistakes.”

The casual mention of my mother knocked the wind out of me, and Odette noticed my breathlessness.

“You look so much like your momma, the goddess weeps.” She cupped my cheeks between her palms. “What would she say if she could see us now?” She laughed softly. “Other than for me to keep my nose in my own business.”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I don’t remember much about her.”

Evangeline Marchand died when I was five. I can’t recall her face from memory, but I studied Maud’s albums often enough to know I saw a younger version of her each time I looked in the mirror. Thin lips, high cheekbones, sharp chin. I inherited those from Mom. The dark tangle of my hair belonged to her too. Whoever my father was, he hadn’t contributed much. Not to my DNA and not to my life. But I got his amber eyes.

“More’s the pity,” Odette sympathized. “Maybe if she had been allowed to choose…” She flexed her fingers as though recalling how she had once held Mom’s hand, guided her. “Evie walked her path with her eyes wide open. There was only ever one outcome available to her once she knew the end I foresaw.”

That end came in the form of a car wreck the morning after we arrived in Savannah.

Maud admitted once, on a night when guilt had tipped back more than one wine bottle, that she had been the one who begged Mom to stop zigzagging across the country. The best thing, in her opinion, was for us both to put down roots. But the second Mom stopped being a moving target, death had struck her down.

Maud never forgave herself for her advice, yet another reason she wanted Odette blind to my future.

The lovingly renovated carriage house Maud had intended to be our home never received its promised family. Instead, a kind man dressed in black sat me down in Woolly’s parlor the morning after the funeral to explain that Maud had been named my legal guardian.

She formally adopted me when I turned thirteen. Though she could have passed for a woman in her midfifties, she was four hundred and twenty-five the summer we met, well on her way to the maximum life expectancy of a necromancer. Any hope for biological children had died centuries earlier. That didn’t mean having an heir of her own shaping didn’t appeal to her. Up until that point, her nephew, Linus Andreas Lawson III, had served as both Woolworth and Lawson heir. But in order for my claim to be recognized by the Society, I had to first take her last name so that her line might be continued.

Considering all she had given me, how much I had desperately wanted to belong to her—to anyone—I decided the cost of my last name was a fair price for that acceptance.

“The bangle,” I said, dragging Odette’s eyes back into focus and my thoughts from the past. “What can you tell me about it?”

“They’re called avowals. They’re symbolic of a blood oath given between two consenting parties.” Her lips compressed. “Gifts of this caliber are rarer than the Last Seeds themselves. Pins, broaches, bangles, rings. Each carries a significance. Such baubles are reserved for clan heritors and persons of great import the vampires want protected from tampering by enemy clans. And also for lovers, wives, children.”

Throat dry, I asked, “What is the symbolism of a bangle?”

“The tube is seamless. There is no end or beginning.” She worried the piece of metal affixed in the center. “This is a promise that your union will be the same.”

I almost swallowed my tongue. “Our what?”

“The metal is the curious part,” she prattled on. “What is its purpose?”

“When I put it on, these needlelike things stabbed me in the wrist. Are they not supposed to do that?”

“The band should be unadorned, a statement in its own right, but this one is not. That it wanted to taste your blood… Hmm.” She tapped a finger against her bottom lip. “Can you remove it? Have you tried?”

“I wanted a second opinion first.” I offered a weak smile.

“Well, go on then.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Let’s see what it does.”

“That’s not as comforting as I’d hoped.” I slid the bangle off my hand as easy as pie. “Huh. Guess it comes off easier than it goes on.” She gestured for me to go ahead, and I put it back on. “Well, that went—” I hissed as its prongs stabbed me. “Dang it.”

“Tell me what the vampire said when he offered this to you.”

“He offered me an alliance with Clan Volkov.” I scrunched up my nose. “He said I would be drowning in such offers soon, and he wanted his to be the first and the most generous.”

“An alliance?” She chortled. “What did you say?”

“That I couldn’t imagine why he would want to align with me, and that I couldn’t possibly accept this—or him—until I had answers. He convinced me to keep the bangle, but as to the rest… What does this mean?”

Her eyes drifted closed for a moment before a frustrated growl parted her lips. “I thought perhaps I could divine the future for Monsieur Volkov and seek your answers there, but he flew too close to your sun and has been burned from my psychic eye.” She tapped the side of her head. “Sometimes I glimpse your future from the corner of another’s destiny.”

“It’s all right.” I took her papery hands in mine. “Don’t strain yourself trying.”

“I have a theory, if it helps.” Her fingers tightened around mine. “Until and unless you accept his proposal, the bangle will remain unmastered. He’s released it into your care for now, but it must verify your identity prior to each wearing. Should you accept, I imagine it will be attuned to you and the metal removed.”

“That makes sense.” I spun it around my wrist. “As long as I keep it on, I can avoid the bite.”

Her eyes glittered. “Avoiding the bite seems unlikely if you continue your dalliance with Volkov.”

“Hold up. There is no dalliance.” I clamped a hand on the side of my throat in reflex. “No one is getting dallied.”

Her tone gentled. “You do understand what an offer of alliance means, don’t you, bébé?”

“He wants to unite Clan Volkov and the Woolworth bloodline…” Dread ballooned in my chest. “Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.” Odette patted my cheek. “You are the Woolworth heir for all that they stripped you of your title and fortune. The match is a good one, if unorthodox. To offer up what must be their heritor instead of a clan noble speaks to their hunger for your acceptance.”

“Plus, I’ll be dead in four hundred or so years, and he can move on to a wife of his choosing. What’s a half millennium in the grand scheme of his immortality? A drop in the bucket.”

“Men like Volkov are not for keeping, not for loving,” she agreed sadly. “They are for savoring during the time we possess them and then releasing them when we can no longer hold them.”

Nice of her to gloss over the bits where he would remain forever young while I aged. Slowly, yes, but no less surely. What woman’s pride could survive waking one day and realizing your husband could pass for your son? Your grandson? Not that children would be an option for us.

Maud had never hinted at planning an arranged marriage for me, but such mutually beneficial unions were the threads that bound High Society families. You couldn’t walk through an assemblage without rubbing elbows with the victim of a marriage of convenience.

“There’s more I haven’t told you.” I started with the hinky wards, segued into vampire stalking me for his friend-deficient master, and ended with his implication the Grande Dame had a vested interest in me. “None of this makes sense.”

The old seer inclined her head, eyes distant. “We are limited to what the goddess reveals to us.”

“What the vampire said…” I linked my fingers in my lap. “I didn’t know if the Grande Dame signed my pardon.” Talking to Odette, with her hazy eyes and dreamy voice, helped loosen the words that wouldn’t come when I was around Amelie and Boaz. “The drugs used to subdue the inmates, to keep us quiet and content to lie in our own filth, drove us quietly insane.” Bile splashed the back of my throat, but I forced myself to keep going. “When the sentinels came for me, I didn’t believe they were real. What they promised sounded too much like a fever dream. One I’d had a million times since I was assigned a cell.”

“Oh, Grier.”

“I signed whatever they put in front of me without reading it. I tried, but my brain wasn’t working right. When they tossed me into detox, the clock on the wall in the clinic gave me some sense of time. I was confined to a bed for a month while they flushed the drugs from my system. I wasn’t allowed to leave until the withdrawals stopped, and for a while they weren’t sure they would.” A bitter smile curled my lips. “I wasn’t meant to leave. They weren’t as careful with my doses as they should have been.”

Odette wept beside me, her thin shoulders hunched with sobs. I should have gathered her in my arms, comforted her. But Atramentous loomed too dark in the shadows gathered in this room for me to do more than fight the instinctive scrabble of my lizard brain to lock down those memories, tuck them in a corner of my mind where no one would stumble across them again, least of all me.

Weak. I was so weak. Worthless. I couldn’t face the memory of the punishment, let alone the crime.

“I have to go.” I shot to my feet. “It’s late. I should be getting home before Woolly worries.”

“You don’t have to rush off.” She wiped her cheeks dry. “You could stay the day in the guestroom.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can’t.” As much as confiding those memories of Atramentous hurt her, enduring my night terrors might break her. “I’ll come back soon. I promise.”

“All right.” She followed me to the door in a whirl of sandalwood and opened her arms. Despite the fact she stood inches away, the distance was too great for me to close. “Oh, bébé, what they have done to you.”

This frail woman with one foot in this world and one in the next was the last remaining bridge between the two most influential figures in my life. But instead of her embrace recalling happier times—walking the beach, the gulls crying overhead, the surf nursing my toes—her pity burned hotter than those extinguished summer suns. Touching her would have burned me and my fragile pride to ashes, so I fled to Woolly, where I could hide behind my tattered wards in the comfort of my own home.

* * *

Much to my relief, no vampires lurked on my property when I arrived. The visit with Odette had stretched into early morning, and sunlight had burned the shadows from the porch. That didn’t stop me from carrying the stake, which I noticed Boaz had sharpened after meeting Volkov, at my side while I walked from the garage to the front door.

The locks snapped open for me in quick succession.

“Sorry I’m late.” I patted the doorframe on my way in. “I drove out to Tybee and visited Odette. I figured she might be able to shed some light on the Volkov situation.”

Somewhere a floorboard groaned with apprehension.

“You’re the one who let him in,” I reminded her. “Now it’s up to me to figure out what to do about him.”

Boaz swung around the corner with a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. “Who are we doing what about?”

The door slammed shut behind me or else I might have stumbled right back out onto the porch in my shock.

Drawing myself up taller, I squared my shoulders. “What the heck are you doing in my house?”

“Figured turnabout was fair play.” Boaz took another bite. “Why should you have all the fun? I didn’t even break in. I asked Woolly if I could wait until you got back, and she opened the door.”

The chandelier dimmed, its crystals tinkling.

“Didn’t mean to throw you under the bus, girl.” He placed the hand holding his sandwich over his heart, as true a vow as any man had ever made. “Grier, this is all my fault. I acted alone. Woolly tried to stop me, but I forced my way in.”

The lights warmed to normal levels, and all was forgiven.

I rolled my eyes at their antics. “Mmm-hmm.”

“That reminds me.” He extended an envelope stained with a giant, muddy boot print to me. “It must have been pushed through the mail slot after you left. I didn’t notice it had stuck to my foot until I reached the kitchen. I cleaned it up as best I could. I don’t think the card inside is damaged.”

The spidery scrawl across the front of the envelope would have told me who sent the card even if I hadn’t recognized the grapefruit essential oil Dame Lawson wore in lieu of perfume. “This can’t be good.”

“Who’s it from?” He continued stuffing his face. “There was no return address.”

“This is Dame Lawson’s handwriting.”

Boaz choked on his next swallow. “What does that old bat want with you?”

“I have no idea.” I smoothed my thumb over the sealed flap and wished it could stay that way. “I’m not sure I want to find out.”

Sandwich forgotten, he prowled closer. “Do you want me to open it?”

“It’s not a bomb. It won’t explode in my hands.” Unless she hexed it…

Boaz grunted once.

I replayed my words and winced. “I didn’t mean—”

“You can say bomb around me.” He chuckled. “Explosion. Boom. Bam. Blam. All good. I promise.”

Ducking my head, I took the out I was given. That’s when I noticed him scuffing his boot, the ribbon from the giftbox Volkov had given me trampled underfoot. Boaz must have been snooping when I got home and dropped it in his rush to pull together his innocent act.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t going to recycle that.”

“Volkov caught me off-guard.” He snatched up the grungy ribbon and slapped it across my palm. “I didn’t know there were other guys sniffing around you.”

His honest surprise that another man had shown interest in me stung my already smarting pride. Clearly the thought I might have a boyfriend had never crossed his mind. Had he believed all he had to do was open his arms for me to fall into them?

Though I had primed him to believe that, I still snapped, “I’m not a freaking fire hydrant.”

A snort ripped out of Boaz, and I briefly wondered how Amelie felt about being an only child.

Light as a breeze, he snatched the envelope from my hand and tore into the letter. I had fallen for his ruse hook, line and sinker. I ought to know better by now. Delighted I was such an easy mark, he lifted it high over his head so I couldn’t reach it even when I jumped, and read it out loud. “Your presence has been requested at the inauguration ceremony for…” A frown knitted his heavy brow. “The Society has named a new Grande Dame.”

“Who?” I snatched the invitation while he was too stunned to fight back. “Clarice Woolworth Lawson.”

Maud’s not-so-younger sister was rising to power, and Dame Lawson was offering me a front-row seat.

Learning I was indebted to the Grande Dame had chilled me to my marrow back when I’d thought the vampire meant Abayomi Balewa, the woman who sentenced me to Atramentous, had freed me. But the timing of his visit and now this announcement dropped ice cubes into my bloodstream.

Dame Lawson cast in the role of savior was as unlikely as Boaz taking a vow of celibacy.

“Come on, Squirt.” Boaz hooked his arm behind me and guided me down onto a couch in the living room. “This must be a formality. There’s no law saying you have to accept.”

“Accept.” Hysterical laughter bubbled up the back of my throat. “The last time I faced the Society…” I clamped a hand over my mouth and ran for the downstairs bathroom, where I emptied my stomach. I knelt there dry heaving for several minutes before a cold washcloth pressed against the base of my neck. “Go away.”

“You gave me the stomach flu when you were eight by throwing up in my face when I picked you up and swung you around the room too fast. We’re past this.”

“Privacy?” I rasped.

“Pretending you’re okay when you’re clearly not. Don’t do that. Not with me.”

The order would have rolled off me like water off a duck’s back had I not detected his genuine worry.

“I visited Odette.” I braced my forehead against the toilet seat. “I talked to her about…things.”

Our conversation—about Mom, about Atramentous, about Volkov—had lingered too close to the surface of my thoughts for me to keep them down at the mention of Dame Lawson’s big promotion.

“I’m glad.” He refolded the rag to give me a cooler spot. “She’s a good confidante for you. Not as stellar as me, but not a bad second choice.”

“Friend, Tilt-A-Whirl, mechanic, breaker-and-enterer, and now confidant.” I marveled at the size of his ego. I don’t know how he managed to cram it into the bathroom with us. “You can’t be everything to me.”

“How do you know?” The cool weight at my nape vanished. “You haven’t let me try.”

“I did let you try,” I contradicted him. “You just weren’t interested.”

“You were a kid.” He scoffed, offended. “You should be glad I wasn’t interested. What kind of pervert would that have made me?”

“I still thought I loved you.” Heaving a groan, I propped my legs under me and wobbled to the sink to brush my teeth with my finger and a squirt of sample-sized toothpaste scrounged from the medicine cabinet. “It still hurt when you didn’t love me back.”

“I’ve always loved you, just not the kind of love you wanted from me.” His fingers trailed the side of my arm. “You were like a second little sister to me. Forgive me if it took time for me to shift gears and stop seeing you in those ridiculous pigtails you used to wear. And that rainbow jumpsuit? Gods, that slayed me. You were the cutest thing.”

I met his eyes in the mirror. “Somehow this is more embarrassing than vomiting in front of you.”

“I don’t know where this is going.” He wrapped one heavy arm across my shoulders in front, his forearm hot against my collarbone. “I don’t know if it’s going anywhere at all.” He kissed the side of my head in brotherly concern. “But the love? That part we’ve got down pat. You gripped my heart in pudgy fingers the morning I caught you hurling mud pies at Amelie, and you still haven’t let go.” Another kiss, this one softer, warmer, but still chaste. “It’s the rest we have to figure out. If you want to try.”

For a single moment, I caved to an old weakness and leaned against him. His grip tightened across my shoulders, pressing my spine against the wall of muscle at my back. Cradled in his arms, I was safe and cherished, and both those things made my chest ache after having gone so long without them. But the cost of gambling with this man could be losing this easy flirtation between us. I had never looked at him as a brother, but I had always considered him family, and the risks outweighed the rewards in my book.

“Stop perving on me and let me go to bed.” I broke his hold and exited the bathroom. “Alone.”

“Spoilsport.” He strolled to the front door but hesitated on the threshold. “Grier? Burn that invitation. Pretend you never saw it. That woman lost all rights to call you family or expect your support when she didn’t speak up for you at your sentencing.”

Having nothing to add to that, I left him to say his goodnights to Woolly and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of warm milk before bed. Visiting Odette had left the center of my chest raw and aching, and I longed for what had once been a cure-all.

“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered at the fridge, which Boaz had stocked with all my favorite junk food in addition to a few practical staples. A sticky note clung to a package of cheese slices, and I peeled it off the label. Block letters spelled out the cost of my groceries. “U O ME LUNCH.”

Shame curled in my gut as I accepted his offering. His concern warmed me, but I hated him thinking I was a charity case. First the bike and now this. Tomorrow I would have to set him straight. But tonight… I poured myself a tall glass and nuked it to perfection with a sappy grin in place.

I was on my way upstairs with my treat when I spotted the plastic bag on the counter. I poked it with a finger, revealing an opened package with one cuttlebone left and a bag of seed twisted off with a sandwich tie. Another note clung to the packaging. I read it out loud, though I was sure Woolly already had the scoop. “You take worse care of that zombie bird than Macon did. I found him zooming around your bathroom crapping everywhere. I cleaned up the mess and put the little turd in his cage. You can thank me later. I will accept dirty pics as payment. Left you something to pose in.”

I tossed his note aside and skidded into the living room to find Keet dozing in his cage. Boaz had positioned the stand near the picture window overlooking the rose garden, exactly where I’d intended for him to go. It’s not like Keet required seed or water to live, just the occasional drop of blood, but he seemed to enjoy the catharsis of cracking seeds, and some of it must be going down the hatch since he pooped enough to be an ostrich.

Wary of what other gifts Boaz might have left me, I jogged upstairs and shoved open the door to my room. I’m not sure what I expected. Lace. Silk. Something highly inappropriate. A scrap of fabric that wouldn’t cover anything. What I found was an olive drab tee that smelled like him and could wrap around me three times. The reminder he knew what it was like to wake from fractured memories with a scream lodged in his throat soothed my earlier irritation enough that I shucked my top and slid into his, snapped a picture and texted it to him. No caption. Anything I could think of now felt too much like an invitation, and I’d already received one too many of those for one night.