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A n expanse of clothing options lay spread across my duvet. The colorful fabrics blurred together like melted rainbow sherbet.

Thunder-esque booming came in rapid succession overhead—once, twice, three times. A glance through my bedroom window confirmed the evening sky was clear.

A baseball game must be on, with Carol’s team either performing exceptionally poorly or exceptionally well.

Dust floated down like snowflakes from the ceiling.

Maybe those stomps belonged to more than one set of feet. Albert could be home after dropping today’s footage at the station and jumping around to his Richard Simmons workout playlist with his wife.

Work was over. I had a very important dinner to prepare for.

Time to focus.

Time to beg for help.

I dialed Daisy on a video call, then held my breath. Please, please, please let her answer. If she wasn’t available, I had no idea what I was going to do.

Two rings later, my long-time friend's comforting smile filled my phone screen. Her straight hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck. It was the color of a freshly roasted pie crust. Her personality was as warm as that pie’s filling.

“Erika!” Daisy set her phone down and adjusted the camera angle, offering a glimpse of her office at the recording studio. “I’ve missed you.”

“Same.” Video calls were bittersweet, getting to see each other instead of just hearing each other's voices or chatting through text. But it reminded me how much I wanted to reach out and hug her. “Are you busy?”

“Always.” She pressed her lips together and lifted one shoulder in a you-know-how-it-is shrug. “What’s up?”

“Carson invited me to dinner. Tonight. As a family.”

“This is the best news ever.” Daisy clapped her hands together and leaned her chin on her knuckles. “What are you going to wear?”

“About that….” I flipped the camera so she could see where my closet had vomited all over my bed.

“We’ve got this.” Daisy sounded reassuringly confident. “Location? Is Carson cooking at the house?”

“No, we’re meeting at a neutral location.” While a big part of me wished I was going home for dinner, the stakes were higher there. I wasn’t ready.

“That’s good news. Lasagna Lagoon?”

“Lasagna Lagoon,” I confirmed. It had been our go-to spot since the kids were born.

“Perfect. You should wear the plain black T and…the ruby skirt.”

“Casual but nice.” I could wear slip-on shoes under my long skirt, too, for maximum comfort. I turned the camera back around so I could see Daisy. “I like it. It’s not too casual, right?”

“Nope. It says you put in a touch of effort but aren’t trying too hard. And if you drop a meatball down the entire front of your body, no one will know.”

An image filled my head, one of me lifting my fork to my lips only to stab myself in the gums with the metal prongs. The meat would drop, marinara spreading like slug goo in its path.

“Why would you say that to me?” If I could reach through the phone and pinch her, I would. “What if it happens now, because you said it?”

“It won’t.” She offered an apologetic smile. “But if it does, you’ll be prepared.”

I sighed. “I thought by now, with the boys getting older, that I would be this new posh version of myself who didn’t have to worry about spills.”

“You are so posh. You won’t drop a meatball in your lap. I would drop a meatball in my lap, but you won’t.”

“Because I’m too posh for that?”

“Exactly.”

We shared a laugh. Nice, easy—almost like the stakes weren’t sky-high.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” I said. “Carson, Adam, and Micah are hedgehog shifters.”

Daisy captured her gasp in her hand. Her nostrils flared. She slowly let her hand drop. “All three of them kissed a werehedgehog? Where did they find it? Why’d they do it?”

“Apparently there is no werehedgehog.”

She twisted her mouth. “What?”

“According to Carson, they’ve always been werehe— hedgehog shifters. And Carson has told me all about it, even though I never heard a single word.”

Daisy took a moment, letting the revelation percolate. “The white-outs?”

I nodded. “The white-outs. I think.”

“So your brain was protecting you from learning about magic?”

“My brain sabotaged me to lose my family.” I sighed, the weight of it all crashing back. But there was hope, more hope than there’d been in a long time.

I was going to dinner with them.

Really, really soon.

“They’re still your family.” Daisy offered a sad smile. “Even if you aren’t together all the time right now.”

“I know.” I cleared the lump forming in my throat. “And I heard Carson when he told me about hedgehog shifters. I didn’t white out.”

“That’s huge.”

“Yeah. But how do I make sure I don’t white out again?”

“I feel like Tess would know best on this one.”

“Maybe. But she’s busy with Doomface. I could text her. I should.”

Daisy nodded. “If you aren’t touched by magic, you don’t see magic. That’s the rule. But you’d think marrying a magical man would be enough.”

“Apparently not. Birthing magical babies doesn’t count, either.”

“Maybe.” Daisy drummed her fingers on her desk. “Maybe it was repetition that you needed. You were around your magical guys for forever, then I turned into a werebunny and you saw that. No white-out.”

“That’s true.”

“Maybe my transformation was less emotionally charged for you. Maybe that’s why you could see me turn into a werebunny, and why you could hear what Carson had to say this time.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t think you’re going to white out again. I think you are past your block.”

“I hope so.” I glanced at the clock in the corner. I was really, really running out of time. But I had more to share with Daisy first. “Also the other day there was a whole zombie rat uprising, and I didn’t white out.”

“I’m going to need details.”

“I’ll send you a video. One sec.” I opened up my laptop and emailed her the unedited footage.

“It was supposed to be a regular segment, an adoption pet fair. Then a storm started, the pets got loose, and bones rose from the earth. This blond witch told me and Albert to forget. I think it was mind control.”

“Witches with mind control powers, right in your home city?”

“I think so. Then another witch threatened me not to show the footage to anyone.” It wasn’t until then, after I’d hit send that I realized maybe sharing with Daisy was a mistake. I said, “You can’t watch it.”

“Why not?” She was already clicking on her computer, likely bringing up the file.

“It’s not safe. When I showed Albert the video, it broke him.”

“Sounds like the witches broke Albert.”

I chewed my lip.

“I can handle it.” She flexed her tiny bicep for me. “No witches mind-controlled me. Plus I’m a werebunny now, remember? I’m magically awesome.”

“You were born awesome, way before you kissed that wererabbit.”

“Weirdest thing that ever happened to me.” She wrinkled her nose and turned her lips up on one side. “But we’re talking about you . Now I’m going to watch this video. It’s going to be fine.”

I was nervous, but equally desperate. I opened my mouth to protest. The words refused to come out.

Sounds of video played in the background, telling me she’d hit play. Flashes of screen light reflected off her irises. I held my breath.

The sounds stopped, suggesting the video was over.

Daisy ran her hands down the sides of her head, pulling stray hairs from her sleek bun. She flicked her gaze to me. “Wow.”

“You saw?”

“The horror of a squirrel zombie apocalypse. Yeah, I saw.”

“You’re not broken?”

“Nope.”

I felt the tension in my shoulders release.

“What are you going to do?” Daisy asked.

“I deleted the zombie parts and the dogs escaping from the footage at work. I know I’m a journalist and I should want to share the truth no matter what….”

“But your life was threatened. And…hmmm…wait a minute. I have an idea.” Daisy grabbed her laptop and carried both it and me down the hall, then through the doorway to a dark room.

In the darkness, the unnatural light of a phone illuminated a middle-aged man with a dad bod sitting in the corner.

His bleached hair was slicked back like lines of limp spaghetti on top of his head.

He curled his shoulders forward as he cradled his device like it was his most precious possession.

He spun himself in his chair, kicking off the wall.

Nick had a nasal laugh. Tyler wore chainmail underpants. I wasn’t sure which man-child I was looking at, but he had to be one of the two podcast guys Daisy worked with.

Daisy flipped on the light, snapping the man-child’s attention to her.

He snorted and bolted upright.

“Tyler,” Daisy said, “watch this and tell me what you see.”

Ah, metal briefs guy. Got it. But she wasn’t going to show him the video, right?

Daisy swiveled the phone and flashed me an encouraging smile and put her laptop on the table beside him.

Was this a good idea? Were we about to give Tyler, a man with a questionable quantity of brain cells, new brain damage?

The footage rolled.

Again, I held my breath. I didn’t blink. I just watched Tyler’s blank expression.

The video ended.

Tyler’s face remained the same—mouth slightly open, a dumb look in his glazed eyes. Maybe we couldn’t damage a brain that didn’t exist.

Plus, Tyler and Nick were conspiracy guys. They talked so much nonsense on their podcast that if Tyler actually saw the truth and decided to share it, no one would believe him.

“What do you think?” Daisy asked him.

Tyler shrugged. “That big dog is okay, but I can’t be tied down with responsibilities. I’m a lone wolf sigma stallion.”

Then he howled.

More like a chihuahua than a wolf.

I stifled a laugh.

“Thanks, Tyler,” Daisy said.

“You’re welcome?” He sounded confused.

Daisy hurried back into her office and locked the door.

“He didn’t see the zombie rats,” I said. “It doesn’t matter if I share the uncut footage on the news. No one will see it.”

Daisy nodded. “The witches might. You made the right call editing the juicy bits out.”

“Thanks.” I breathed a sigh of relief. All risk, no reward. It wasn’t worth it.