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It’s not until a gust of cold autumn wind rustles the trees and a shiver runs through her frame that she seems to snap out of it.

Giving her head a hard shake, she walks around the side of the van, climbs inside, and shuts the door behind her.

And then… nothing.

No sound from the van, no lights, nothing that would indicate she has any kind of power… or heat.

My feet start moving without my willing them to.

17

Ophelia

Sometimes living in a van sucks.

Like right now, when my electrical system’s gone to hell, and I know I should be better about learning to fix these things on my own, and my on-call mechanic of choice is all the way back in Seattle, and everything feels awful.

It’s fuckingcoldin Boston tonight. The kind of East Coast cold that always catches me by surprise, especially this early in the fall.

It shouldn’t bother me so much.

I’m used to being inconvenienced like this. It’s the trade-off I make for living so simply and unencumbered.

So now, faced with an electrical system on the fritz—something I can probably get taken care of tomorrow with a little searching and a call to a repair shop—I shouldn’t feel a stupid, persistent lump of frustration settle itself into my chest. I shouldn’t glance out the window to Casimir’s big, beautiful, empty house with all its spare bedrooms.

I need to suck it up.

Opening the overstuffed drawer that pulls out from beneath the bed in the back of the van, I rifle through clothes and blankets and camping gear until I find what I’m looking for.The cold-weather sleeping bag isn’t an ideal solution, and while I could stay up and run the van’s main heating system instead of my electric heat, I don’t really feel like the inconvenience of cycling it on and off, or burning the gas and keeping the engine running.

The bag will do, and once I crawl in and get cozy, my body heat will be enough to—

A sharp rap on the van’s door startles me to attention, and the muffled command in Casimir’s voice from outside sends my heart leaping into my throat.

“Ophelia. Open up.”

I’m moving before I can fully process the option ofnotanswering him. It’s automatic, the instinct to open the door and see what he wants, even if the stormy expression on his face makes my heart beat even faster when I do.

“What?” I ask.

He leans in and glances around the van. “What’s wrong with your electrical?”

How the hell did he… Oh, right. Watching from the window. I’m sure he saw my whole pathetic little display.

“Fuck if I know,” I mutter. “I’ll call someone tomorrow and get it looked at.”

“And until then?”

“Until then… what?”

“You plan to stay out here in the cold?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s not like I’m going hypothermic. I’ve got it handled.”

His scowl deepens. “Come inside.”

It’s not a request. And, just like it always does, having Cas order me around immediately makes me want to rebel.

“I’m fine,” I protest. “I’ve slept in colder conditions than this, and the sleeping bag I’ve got is made for temperatures as low as—”