“I’m just . . . figuring some things out.” It wasn’t the entire truth, and probably a lie by omission. But it was all I was willing to say.

Her shoulders seemed to relax, as if my admission was enough to soothe some of the worry. I’d validated her concerns, even if I hadn’t shed much light on them. “Nothing you can talk to me about?”

“Not really,” I said, and watched light dance across water.

“Connor?”

“He’s good. He’s great. And the Pack has been supportive.”

“Good. In the olden days,” she said dryly, joining me on the bench again, “before I joined the House, the Pack was standoffish. Trust had been lost between the Pack and other Sups, and they didn’t involve themselves with others unless they had to—unless there was some very specific reason for it. But then I joined, and Gabe and I became friends of a type. Not hanging-out friends, but we had a camaraderie.” She smiled, gaze vacant, as if revisiting old and comforting memories. “Probably in part because it irritated your father. Which made it that much more fun. It changed more after the House and Pack became allies. And after Connor hit puberty,” she added.

I snorted, thinking of the number of times I’d heard about teenage Connor “borrowing” another shifter’s bike without their knowledge, or keeping someone’s daughter out a little too late. He hated bullies, and loved picking fights with them. He’d tested every boundary he could find—and was on a first-name basis with the local CPD officers who walked the beat near the Keene house. He’d washed a lot of dishes during the summer to pay the fines he’d accumulated over the year.

“Because they had to apologize to so many people for his behavior,” I said.

“It’s one way to socialize,” Mom said. “And then we had you, and you and Connor were close in age, and you spent time together, or with Lulu. Even if you hated each other. Strong emotions,” she said, “even then.”

She’d been smiling, but her smile fell away. And when she looked at me, there was fear in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

It took a moment for her to speak. “I don’t know if I should tell you this. I don’t know if it will help or hurt, or if it’s something you should know or shouldn’t.”

“Tell me,” I said without hesitation. I’d always rather have the truth, and quickly. And yeah, I realized the hypocrisy. But that I was willing to listen to hard facts didn’t mean I wanted to deal them out.

“Gabe came to Cadogan House one night when Connor was little. And he said something then . . .” She trailed off, as if gathering courage.

I leaned forward. “What did he say?” My voice was quiet, as if words spoken too loudly would break through the mist of the moment.

“He showed me my future—or a part of it. A child with green eyes.”

Those green eyes—my green eyes—widened. “How did he know?”

“Some shifters can prophesize. He’s one of them. And he said we—me and Gabe—were like family.” She swallowed. “And then he said, ‘But we lose them always, don’t we’?”

I stared at her, trying to make sense of the words, of the questions. “He meant me and Connor?”

“We didn’t know either of you, yet,” she said and squeezed my hand. “But yes, I do think that’s what he meant. And I don’t think it’s some harbinger of problems for you or Connor. I think he knew, even then, that I was going to be pregnant, and that you and Connor would play a role in each other’s lives. I didn’t really believe him then—how could I? No one else had done what he thought would happen. And then it did. You were born, by whatever miracle of magic and biology.

“After you were born, I didn’t sleep much. I had this fear someone or something would take you away. You were so rare, and so loved.” She touched my cheek. “I was worried, at least in part, that the magic that helped make you would sweep you back up, that Sorcha would return and steal you like a fairy in the night. But then I started sleeping again, and logic returned. And when that happened, I decided by ‘losing’ he meant your growing up.”

She shook her head clear, looked at me. “I think he knew you were going to be part of their family—that you and Connor would bring us all together, even as you and Connor formed your own unit.” She sighed. “And that’s a very long way of saying, if you can’t hold to Cadogan, hold to the Pack. Let them be your allies, even when we can’t. And whatever it is, know that we love you.”

I nodded and smiled, but knew the truth: My monster—the magic that remained inside me—was her nightmare.

* * *

* * *

I walked back through the House, paused at the stairs to the basement, and almost considered going down.

The armory was down there, the room where the House’s collection of weapons was saved. Including my mother’s former sword.

Maybe, if I had the sword, if I wielded it, I could serve both ends. Give comfort to the monster. Take comfort from the AAM.

please

The word, or the idea of it, echoed in my head. I could feel the bare need, the desire, and I wasn’t sure which of them I was feeling. Probably both.

I closed my eyes for a moment, listened to the sound, felt them both reach out for connection. For . . . completion? And the monster, by now, knew me. Knew what I valued. I saw myself walking through the House, down the stairs, through the basement hallway.

And when I opened my eyes, I stood outside the closed armory door, hands raised as if to push it open.

I took a stumbling step backward, heart racing as I realized where I was, and what I’d almost done. I’d walked downstairs with my eyes closed, down the hallway with my eyes closed. Had let the monster and its kin—or whatever they were to each other—lead the way through my childhood home.

“Lis?”

I glanced back, found Lindsey looking out through the guard room door, which was just down the hall. She came toward me, lips curved into a smile, but eyes narrowed.

“Are you okay?” Lindsey was empathic, could feel others’ emotions.

She didn’t, as far as I was aware, know about the monster. I hadn’t even known it existed until I was nearly a teenager, and my awareness of it had been sporadic for a few years after that. Now that the monster and I were in closer contact, the risk was higher she’d sense it and tell someone.

Cover, I ordered myself, and pushed the monster down, smiled. “I’m fine. I visited my parents and was just kind of . . . wandering around.”

She looked at me, then the door, then back again. “Thinking about weapons, were you? Not surprising, given what assholes the AAM are being right now.”

Thinking about weapons was one way to put it, I thought, but realized with some comfort the AAM gave me pretty good cover. It was entirely normal to be flustered and worried about that. “Yeah. I thought about going in.” Entirely true.

“You want me to unlock the door? Couple of good blades might set you right up.”

“No, thank you.” I took another step backward. “I need to figure out a way to deal with this without weapons. Without war.”

“Okay,” she said and gestured back toward the guard room. “I need to get back on a call, but if you change your mind, just let me know. I’ll send down a guard.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it, but I’m going to head out now.”

I felt her gaze on me as I walked back to the stairs, began the climb up. But I didn’t feel better until I was out of the House again.

And then I saw the SUV waiting at the curb, and the man standing beside it, and I felt almost ridiculously relieved.

The gate opened slowly, and I slipped through the gap sideways, too impatient to wait. Connor pushed off the car, frowned at my expression.

“What?” he asked.

“First, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said and brushed a thumb across my cheek. “Even the aches are mostly gone. What happened?”

“The AAM showed up.”

His eyes fired, and he cast a hard look toward the grounds, the street. “They didn’t stay long.”

“Didn’t make it past the gate. Either because Clive was afraid of my parents, which wasn’t unwise, or he knew he didn’t have the authority to actually fight Cadogan House.” I paused. “So, to put an end to it, I agreed to meet the AAM in forty-eight hours.”

Connor went very quiet, and very still. But the magic around him, around both of us, roiled like a storm-tossed sea. I could hear the guards come to attention behind us, wary of the power that now permeated the air.

“Am I losing my mind,” he asked, voice dangerously low, “because I think you just told me you agreed to meet the AAM?”

“I did agree,” I said, standing a little straighter. “And it was the right thing to do.”

“It gives them an excuse—”

But I held up a hand, cut him off. “It doesn’t. It gives me two days without running—at least from them—to find a way out. I’m not actually going to give myself up.” And I hoped my father and I had worded our acceptance carefully enough for that. “But they were threatening the gates, and my parents were threatening them. It was . . .”

“A de-escalation?”

I nodded, watched him.

“You should have talked to me,” he said, and looked amused to be parroting back my words. And I got to use the same tactic.

“I knew you’d tell me not to do it,” I said. “And I’m not used to getting permission just to do the right thing.”

Connor snorted. “Lis, even the AAM is aware of that. And I’m not in a position to offer you permission to do anything. You’re your own person, and I’m not your keeper. But.” He stepped closer, tugged a long lock of my hair. “I worry about you. Keeping me in the loop makes me worry a little less.”