Kat stared at his back as he walked out of the kitchen. That’s it? No explanation? No, “I had a sliver and was getting it out?” Sliver. A laugh bubbled out of her and it sounded dangerously on the edge—a sliver would’ve killed him.

What the hell had he been thinking?

She blinked. Closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. There was no need to cuss. Maybe she hadn’t seen what she thought she’d seen. She went to the sink and glanced down. A knife.

He’d been cutting himself.

Fine. Okay. She nodded, planting her hands on her hips as she glanced around the kitchen. She could deal with that. She could find a replacement for whatever he was getting out of that. But seriously, he didn’t want to talk about it?

Of course, he didn’t. He might not even know why he was doing what he was doing. That he was replacing an emotional hurt with a physical one.

Gaia, if the coven saw him with that knife they’d freak. They’d use it as an excuse, as proof he wasn’t sane. They’d say handing him over to the humans for termination would be a kindness.

That thought alone sent rage shooting through her. She paced. This was another part of the healing process. She took a deep breath and pressed her hand to her belly, as if that would settle the turmoil churning in her gut. Seeing him hurting made her heart ache.

That he didn’t want to talk made her feel helpless.

She glanced around the kitchen again. They didn’t need the knives. It wasn’t like either of them would be cooking anytime soon. She marched out of the kitchen into the living room, grabbed the laundry basket from the couch, dumped it, and returned to the kitchen. The knife from the sink went in first. Then she grabbed the rest of the set out of the drawer and the blades from the electric carving knife.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of the stuff we don’t need.” The knives. The scissors. The tool chest. The potato peeler. What about the sewing kit? Could he hurt himself with anything in—

“You’re being ridiculous. You don’t need to do that.” He took two steps into the room. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Good.” She glanced at him. “Because that’s not my job.”

“Then stop.”

“Here’s the deal, Jules.” She turned around and faced him. “I’m not going to judge you. Or police you. Or anything else. This will never work if I do. But I also need to feel like our home is safe.”

“This isn’t our home.”

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. He was right. This wasn’t their home. “You and I both know what it means to be mated.”

“Yeah, someday we’ll be right for each other.”

“Someday. Yes. I’m doing what I can to get you to someday.”

“Jesus. Kat.” He flung his hand out to the side. “It was a memory, okay. I had a memory and I was—”

“I understand that. You’ve been cursed, Jules. Before that, you went through hell. It’s going to take time for you to work through everything.” She lifted her chin. “Even if you don’t want me as a lover, or a mate, I hope you’ll at least accept me as a friend.”

His jaw clenched. His lips pressed together. He shook his head. “That’s not the problem.”

“Then what?” Oscar hopped up on the counter and crawled into the basket. She picked the cub up, snapped her fingers and sent the laundry basket of sharp objects to Mother’s house. “Tell me what the problem is.” She curled Oscar into the cradle of her arm.

“I’m trapped here. A prisoner. You’ve rearranged your whole fucking life to keep me here and the more things I remember, the more I think I’m not even the person you think I am. That’s not normal, Kat. I’m not even the person I remember. I don’t remember having the shakes or feeling like I have shit crawling under my skin. I don’t remember ever being able to see through objects or see . . . .”

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s not right. Not normal.”

Nothing about this situation was normal. There wasn’t exactly psychiatric standards for dealing with the aftermath of possession. “I’m doing the best I can. You don’t understand, yet. You’ll—”

“I’ll see?” His voice edged up. “I’m already seeing—things I’ve done to myself. People I’ve killed. Tortured.” He hit his forehead in rapid succession as if he could knock the memories right out of his head. “I’m seeing that I should be locked up in an asylum or a prison, not here with you.”

Gaia, she couldn’t imagine how hard this was for him. From his point of view, she probably did seem like some psychotic co-dependent wacko. How long before his patience ran out and he did what he needed to do to get out of here?

How much longer before he remembered the possession? The Watcher? How hard would that be for him to accept? At least by then, her actions would make sense to him but he was fiercely independent. He liked to be in control. How would he react to knowing he was at the mercy of another being? This might be as good as it got for a long time.

She reached for him. “You didn’t do those things. You’re going to have to trust me.”

He paced away. A humorless laugh rolled out of him. “Trust you? I don’t even trust myself. I mean, Jesus, Kat. I don’t know you from Eve,” he spoke fast, louder than usual and as he paced back and forth his hand clenched and unclenched. “You kidnapped me and are holding me against my will.”

“I know this all seems strange, but—”

“You have the answers I need and you’re withholding the information from me. Why should I trust you?” He took a step toward her, jaw clenched, muscles bunched.

She spell-traveled to Machon.

The wind whipped her hair around her face. Nearby waves roared and crashed against the rocky shore, pulled by the heavy molten moon riding low in Machon’s sky.

“Oh, Gaia, what did I do!” She had to go back!

It hadn’t been a conscious choice, but a reaction. He was angry. He was a big man. When he stepped toward her…

He wasn’t Mother.

She shifted Oscar to her other arm and winced. The veins under her skin were black all the way to her elbows. No! No, this couldn’t happen now. She closed her eyes and repeated the traveler’s spell. A tingling sensation crept over her skin as her atoms began to separate. It was working. She had enough. . . . Everything snapped back into focus again, but she hadn’t moved.

Just the attempt at Magic made the ache in her arms creep up to her shoulders. Machon’s massive moon still hovered above her. She turned to find a tower reaching high above her. Waves crashed nearby. Where the heck was she? Whose tower was that?

Oh, Gaia. What had she done? She’d left him alone! She covered her face with her free hand. Was that necessary? He was frustrated and upset, but he hadn’t ever hurt her. The worst thing he’d ever done to her was when he tried to disgust her by licking her cheek . . . and that had ended quite nicely.

No, he wasn’t Mother. His murderous reputation was all lies. She had to quit reacting to him the way she’d reacted to Mother.

So now what? She’d left her mate alone. Probably feeling like absolute crap and she had no idea how to fix this or how long before she could spell travel back home.

What if he hurt himself while she was gone? What if . . .?

She stared at the tower. What if the Watcher in that tower could help her? She took a deep breath and lifted Oscar to her cheek. “Come on, let’s see if we can get any answers.”

Azazel paused. Where had she come from? Kat. Katherine. Katherine O’Hickey, his host’s mate. She appeared in Machon with a feline in her arms, took two steps and disappeared again.

He stood and paced around the edges of the tower. He’d been watching for her. Why had he not seen her? She hadn’t been with the Shadow witch—Trina. Now that he knew what to look for, he’d been keeping an eye on the blank space that indicated her movements. Trina had been here in Machon.

Kat came from somewhere else.

He scanned his vision for her house. She had a little house in Carnation, Washington near the Tolt River. He’d seen it many times, but not today. Nor yesterday.

Why would she cast a blinding spell over her house? Over her house, not herself. If she wanted to hide from the Watchers, it would’ve been better to cast the spell over herself. Unless she was hiding something in her house . . . someone . . . Crowley. . .?

He shook his head. The hex must have taken effect. His host should be ash by now.

What if he still lived?

That bastard had tricked him. During the Clearances, his host had held on to him when it was time for him to leave and got him stuck. Three hundred years he’d been imprisoned in that sweaty, smelly skin-sack. He’d tried everything to get out, barring ashing the daemon. He hadn’t dared do that. He might have ended up stuck in the ash. He might have been stuck in the Eidolon Wastes. He had no idea what might have happened.

He’d tried cutting his host open to see if he could slip out that way. He’d experimented with Mary Jane Kelly, Catherine Eddows, and so many others over the years, cutting open the bodies to see if there was a trick to them. A release. A switch. A door. The soul had to have an escape route when a body died—he’d tried for decades to find it. Eventually, he realized there wasn’t one, but he still liked to make his host suffer. To feel his muscles tense in anticipation of the pain. To feel the sweat break over his skin. To feel him shake like the weak pathetic creature he was.

His host had tricked him. A stupid, weak vampire had tricked him and he had to pay for his sin. For his brazenness and disrespect.

He had to pay.

If he still lived, he had information that could destroy him. He knew his name. He knew his plans. He could ruin everything.

He had to die.

Oscar rode in Kat’s skirt pocket as she made the long climb to the top of the tower. When they arrived, she stood on the balcony and stared out over the black ocean. The tides here were insane, probably because the moon orbited so close to the planet. The tower sat high on cliffs overlooking the ocean and still, spray from the waves reached her. She turned to the tower and read the name over the door: Tamriel. Of course, the Watcher of water.

Oscar poked his head out of her pocket and she pushed him back down, leaving her hand there to stroke the cub’s fur. She lifted her chin a notch and entered the tower. It was the size of a stadium on the inside, minus the seats. The stone floor slanted down at an easy angle toward a pool in the center of the room. The water was as black as crude oil, shiny and thick. If not for the little breaks of white in the waves and the tang of salt in the humid air, she’d have assumed it was oil.

She wasn’t sure what to expect. The Watchers themselves were invisible to everyone but Trina and Lilith, who shared the soul of the Original. Trina had told her the fallen angels could create avatars to interact with the world around them.

“Hello?” Her question echoed off the stone walls. Aside from the turbulent water in the pool, everything remained quiet. In her pocket, Oscar wrapped his paws around her hand and teethed at her finger.

She was about to turn away when the water began to churn and bubble. Waves lapped higher into the room, spilling onto the stone floor. She took a hasty step back.

Vampires couldn’t swim. If the room filled with water or she was swept into that pool she’d be in serious trouble.

A pillar of water shot out of the center of the pool and she ducked, clamping one hand around Oscar and using her other to cover her head as she waited for the water to pour over her, carry her into the pool, and out to the sea.

When she remained dry she glanced up from under her arm.

Tamriel had arrived.

She straightened, tipped her head back. He’d taken the form of a . . . a . . . she wasn’t sure quite what to call it. The face resembled a giant squid, with a dozen watery tentacles sprouting from its face. The body was long—serpent-like. Frozen spikes, like wicked black icicles, lined his back and he swayed from side to side like a cobra.

Oscar chose that moment to hop out of her pocket. The cub, unaware or uncaring of the danger, put his nose to the ground and explored.

She was torn. Chase after Oscar or greet the being she’d summoned? Her sense of self-preservation made the decision. “Great Tamriel, I—”

A section of his wide serpentine body froze and as it melted, the ice cracked and popped, echoing off the walls. It almost sounded like—“Did you . . . say something?”

Tamriel brought his face lower, repeating the process and this time, she could almost make out the words.

“Wh—”

She closed her eyes. Tipped her head to the side.

“–is.”

“Almost. I almost hear you.”

He tried again and this time, through the twang and pop, the crackle and snap, she heard him.

“What is this?”

“This?”

His head lowered toward Oscar.

She sidled closer to the cub. “Oscar is an ocelot cub.”

“’Tis an odd gift of homage.”

“It’s . . . .” Gift of homage? Dearest Gaia, she’d forgotten to bring a gift! “I mean . . . I didn’t think . . . .” Now what? She couldn’t leave the cub here and she couldn’t not offer the Watcher a homage.

“’Tis the most thoughtful gift ever brought to me.”

Thoughtful? What was he going to do with a cub? Eat it? Drown it?

“’Tis lonely here.” Something wriggled and jerked within the water making up his body. The object was forced down one of the tentacles coming off his face before being ejected altogether.

A fish smacked onto the stone floor. Bright red and almost twice Oscar’s size, its muscular body slapped the stone with enough force to echo. That didn’t stop the cub, he pounced, setting all four sets of claws into it.

Her gaze shot from the Watcher, to Oscar, and back. Lonely. She’d done exactly what she’d done to Julius to Tamriel—expected the worst. “I can’t leave him here—”

Tamriel’s head swung around.

She adjusted what she’d been about to say, “—for more than a few days.” Oscar would be okay that long, right? “He’ll need to be with someone who can pet and cuddle him . . . but we can come visit after that.”

His big head bobbed. “Yes.”

A sigh shook free from her. That could’ve gone a lot worse. The Watchers weren’t known for being reasonable.

“Now, what do you want from me, Witch?”

“I need advice.” The thought of asking for help had her lips wobbling and her throat burning. “I have a problem and I’m making everything worse. I don’t wish to be lonely, either. I found my life-mate and I thought between my Magic and his talent that we would find a way to stay safe and hidden and together.” She’d been a fool. “I thought it would be easy. That because we were mated, that everything would work out.”

“Those who are mated know great love. Incomparable passion. And they challenge each other to the point of breaking.”

“What?”

“That is what a life-mate is. A gift that will make you grow. Your mate will bring you both comfort and great strife, because only through struggle do we improve.”

“We’ve got the strife and struggle part down.” She sniffed and a tear escaped.

“Do not do that, Witch. There is enough water in this cursed place.”

She chuckled and the tears came in earnest.

“What is wrong with you? In all the years I’ve watched you, I’ve never known you to cry so much.”

“I’m at odds with my mate. I’m running out of time. He’s not healing right, I’m not sure he’ll ever be . . . whole. I’m losing my Magic at the start of a long, hard fight yet to come.”

His head tipped to the side. “Who is your mate, Katherine O’Hickey? I have not seen you for the last four days. Why?”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He could put out a kill order on Julius—then all her shields and planning and plotting would be for naught. “Whose side are you on, Tamriel?” Watchers couldn’t lie. “Do you want to see the Original set things to rights? Or do you want to see the Wayward Watcher succeed in destroying mankind?”

“My loyalty is with the Original.”

She chewed her lip. That was good news. Still, he might decide Julius’ death would be in the Original’s best interest. “I think I’ll come back some other—”

“’Tis him, Julius Crowley. The whole world wants his ash.”

She swallowed. “The Original has given me a week to show that he’s sane and not a threat to any of us. I’m down to three days.”

“He’s insane?”

“No, but he’s not well. He doesn’t remember that he was possessed, though he’s remembering some things. Enough to make him think he’s insane.” She explained everything that had happened the last few days, ending with their fight and the knee-jerk reaction that led her to the tower.

“You either need to give him up now, or give him the benefit of the doubt, Witch. You’ll only make the situation worse if he feels you do not trust him.”

“I know. Can you tell me anything about him? Anything that might help?”

“He was a Guardian. Before that, a Black Knight.”

The Beacon, the Shadow, and the Knight. “So he was a knight.”

“For hire, yes.”

“And he’s the Tanin’iver?”

“Perhaps. The Tanin’iver’s responsibility is to bring the Original together with her mate.”

“Well, he sort of did that. By threatening Trina and Lilith, they summoned their mates.”

“Then he is the Tanin’iver.”

“But if he dies . . . will anything happen to Lilith, Trina, and their mates?”

“No. He’s already brought them together.”

She closed her eyes. She’d been counting on his link to Trina and Lilith and their mates to keep them from turning Julius over to the humans. But if there would be no repercussions . . . why would they go out of their way to help? They wouldn’t. Not when daemon kind’s future interactions with humankind was on the line. “So that’s it, then. In three more days, they’ll give him to the humans for trial. There’s nothing left to do but wait.”

“For all the trouble you have gone to, you have little faith in your mate.”

“He’s cursed by a Watcher. We’ve tried removing the curse and that was a disaster. He doesn’t remember and when he does . . . .” She covered her face with her hands. “Gaia help him.” She stood. “I’m losing my Magic. I don’t know how to use my Vampiric talent. I don’t know how to save him.”

“Sit down.” Water dripped over her as Tamriel lifted to his full height. “You will stay. I will teach you to use your talent.”

“How will that help?”

“You will sit. You will do what I say, Witch.” The snap and crackle of his voice echoed off the walls.

What was she doing? Arguing with a Watcher wasn’t wise. “I’m sorry.” She sat. The cold dampness seeped through her skirt. She shivered.

“You will use all that emotion of yours to activate your talent. Any emotion—happiness, fear, pain. Focus your feelings onto your target even if that target is you. Now, direct your emotions onto yourself. Your talent will do the rest.”

She hesitated. “As a witch, we are taught to release our emotion, to be neutral in all things.”

“In witchcraft, emotion can bring disastrous results. Not so with your Vampiric talent. Now, focus, Witch. Gather your feelings to a point and let them magnify your deepest desire.”

She closed her eyes and did as Tamriel demanded. Letting the worry and hurt and hopelessness gather and expand, then focus into a single, charged point.

“There.”

She opened her eyes. Julius stood directly in front of her, gazing down at her with one of his rare smiles. She’d dressed him all in black, with a matching patch covering the damaged eye and hiding the worst of the new scar that ran from his forehead to his ear. This is how he’d look, once he’d finished healing. This Julius had a hazel eye. Did her Julius? Or had she chosen hazel because she couldn’t remember?

“He is your deepest desire.”

“He’s my mate.” His longish sandy-blond hair curled, hanging in haphazard locks around his face. His nose had a slight bump. His full bottom lip had a tiny scar on the right side. All that new scar did was give him an air of danger. With the patch, he looked like a pirate straight off the cover of some old historical romance. “Was he a good man? You know, before the Watcher.”

“He was a hellion. He did not follow the rules, but had his own code.”

She nodded. That sounded like Jules. “Did he hurt himself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Cut his skin.”

“No. I wonder, is this male, mate or not, worthy of you?”

Was he? He was the epitome of contradictions. He was either being a jackass, threatening and warning her away, or he was being the most tender, sweet man she’d ever known. She was counting on the fact that the former was a shield and his true nature to be more of the latter. If her instincts were right he was worthy. “Yes.” She shrugged. “Sometimes, I lack faith in him. Sometimes, I’m not worthy of him.”

“Only he can decide that. Now, once a doppelgänger is created, he will remain on this plane until his job is finished.”

“Or until I am destroyed.”

Tamriel’s serpent head bobbed in agreement. “The point, Witch, is that you do not need to put any thought into maintaining your doppelgänger.”

“What?”

“This is not like casting a spell. If you were powerful enough to conjure a doppelgänger, it would only last as long as the energy used to cast the spell. You’re not using Magic. You’re using your Vampiric talent and energy will flow to the doppelgänger as long as you live. Beware, though, the longer the doppelgänger exists, the more it will learn to think for itself. It will always aim to please you, but perhaps not in the ways you first imagined.”

“You said he’ll disappear once his job is finished. How do I tell him his job?”

Tamriel reared back as if in surprise. “Talk to him, out loud or in your mind. He is part of you and will hear you no matter how far away you are. He will know when you are speaking to him as opposed to someone else since he is part of you. He will exist until his task is complete. You can use him as assassin or emissary or anything in between.”

“This won’t help me.” Kat speared her hand through her hair, sighing when her fingers got caught in a tangle of curls. “I don’t want to kill anyone and Lilith and the others would figure him out if his responses aren’t right.”

“I will teach you more.” Tamriel lowered his head. “Close your eyes and let yourself fall into a trance. Focus your energy on your doppelgänger.”

Doing as instructed, she focused on the doppelgänger in her mind. Her point of view shifted and instead of seeing Julius in her mind’s eye, she stared down at herself.

“I can see myself.” Kat didn’t speak in her voice, but rather her words came from the doppelgänger, in his voice.

“You are possessing your doppelgänger. Move around to gain an understanding for how your mind directs his actions.”

“It feels strange,” she spoke through the doppelgänger. She didn’t feel what the doppelgänger experienced—not the floor beneath his feet or the clothes against his skin—but she directed his actions with the same effortless control she used on her own body.

Tamriel’s avatar slithered closer. “Do you know that anything that happens within the shadow of a Watcher can’t be seen by any other Watcher?”

“No.”

“It’s part of the punishment—I can see and hear everything, everywhere, except my brothers and those they interact with. This is why we couldn’t see Julius, possessed as he was by one of us. Nor could we see any of those who interacted with him.”

“So no one can see me right now?” She glanced around. This wouldn’t make a nice home for her and Julius. “I suppose if there’s no other choice, I can hide him here.”

“That is not what I meant. I do not want the Tanin’iver in my tower.” His tentacles twitched and his crackling voice boomed against the walls. “As of right now, no one knows he exists.” He nodded toward the doppelgänger.

“I have a spell protecting my home, so no one knows where the real Julius is.” She frowned. “Except he was there for about an hour with no shield that first day.”

“Ah. Now I realize who that was. At the time, I ignored him. I didn’t recognize him and by the time I tried to look back, he was gone. My brothers would have had similar experiences.”

No one knew where Julius was and no one knew of the doppelganger. “The only time I ever spoke of wanting to help Julius was with Lilith and Trina.” Trina was the shadow of the Original. The Watchers couldn’t see her or those she interacted with in their visions. There was all the makings of a plan here. Her breath caught. “Spell it out for me, Tamriel. What are you getting at?”

“My loyalty is to the Original. I will not blatantly do anything that may displease her.”

“Okay. I understand.” She paced with the doppelgänger’s body, but it did nothing to alleviate the restless energy settling over her. “How do I go back to my own body?”

“Focus yourself there. But before you do, direct him to take your memories of those involved. Not your childhood. Not your daydreams. The memories of everything you’ve learned over the last few weeks about the Original, the Watchers, and your mate. Your knowledge of the coven and the Guardian.”

She smiled and the doppelgänger’s lips spread as a plan started to form in her mind. This wouldn’t be perfect. He wouldn’t know everything that Julius knew . . . but this might work. She allowed the doppelgänger to sift through her memories. If the doppelgänger could infiltrate the operation here on Machon . . . if he could gain the coven’s trust . . . then she could switch them and let them put the doppelgänger on trial. She bit her lip. This could work! “Your name is Julian Crowley. You’re Julius Crowley’s twin brother.” Gaia, this really could work. She couldn’t switch them yet. Not until Julius had healed. “You’ve been living here on Machon since before the portals closed. You stay away from the other daemons, living at the base of Tamriel’s tower.”

“Now come back to yourself, Witch. You never want to possess a body—even your own doppelgänger for more than an hour’s time.”

She shifted back to herself. When she opened her eyes, Julian no longer stared blankly. There was intelligence behind his eye. He winked. “Hey, there, butterfly.”

She frowned. “Don’t call me that. Not ever.” That was what Julius called her. She turned to Tamriel. “What would happen if I stayed longer than an hour?”

“Ask your mate when his memories return.”

The atmosphere in the house changed when she came home.

The oppressive emptiness diminished and Julius inhaled a deep breath. Part of him hadn’t thought she would return. When he’d reached for her in the kitchen, he’d fully intended to pull her close and kiss that damned stubborn streak right out of her.

Then her eyes had widened. Her aura had turned a dirty white. Her lips parted and she’d recoiled before disappearing. She’d expected violence from him. She’d expected . . . what, for him to do what he’d done to Mary Jane Kelly?

He shook his head. No. He wouldn’t have. That had to be a false memory.

Either way, Kat came back. Despite his crazy, she hadn’t left him alone.

Whisper soft, her footsteps came up behind him. He didn’t stop painting. Couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her yet. “I won’t ever hurt you, butterfly.” He’d have to be careful not to reach for her again like that. He’d hated seeing her colors bleach out. It had made his insides twist.

“I know that.”

“You ran away.”

“I did. I needed some time away. Thought you could use some time from me, too.”

He nodded and dipped his brush in white. “Gave me a bit of perspective.”

She stood behind him. Touched the back of his neck. “Did it?”

A shiver bloomed over his back and the spiders stilled. “Thought about things and I can see where you’re coming from—getting rid of the knives.”

“Oh?”

“I know I seem crazy.”

“You’re not.” She pressed her cheek to his head. “I thought about things, too, and I had no right to get upset with you.”

She didn’t care? “Oh?”

“I got scared. I’ve always been empathetic and I hurt when I see others hurting. Comes with the territory of being a healer. You know, if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks.” He glanced back and frowned. “Where’s Oscar?”

“I, uh, found a home for him.”

“Ah. That’s good.” Except he’d kind of miss the little guy.

She paused at the door. “It’s strange, right?”

“What?”

“We both know we’re mated. We know we’re supposed to be together. Yet we don’t really know each other yet.”

“Mm. Yeah. I guess it’s like an arranged marriage in a way.”

“Except we have the benefit of knowing we’ll do good by each other if we give it half a chance.”

And didn’t that sound like heaven?