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V alen stayed a step behind her the entire way out of the unfamiliar house, then blindfolded her, apologetically, before seating her in front of him on his motorcycle. When she asked why she couldn’t ride on the back like a normal passenger, he explained that he had to be sure she remained blindfolded until it was “safe.” Whatever that meant. She fantasized about forcing him to crash the bike just to spite him, but the look of concern or fear or whatever it was she’d seen when Lynorra gave him his orders gave her the slightest bit of pause.

She needed a chance to interrogate him, to see if there was any possible way she could wriggle out of this because dead didn’t sound so good but a life of servitude to the big bad of the witch world didn’t sound much better. Not to mention that Lynorra was in possession of the death book once again. Who knew what she planned to do with it.

Valen removed the blindfold once they reached her apartment, and she dismounted without a word, immediately heading up the stairs to her door. She removed the wards but left the deadbolts in place to turn and look down at where he’d stopped halfway up the soggy wooden steps.

“I think you’ve come far enough,” she said, her tone more civil than she felt.

“I have to come inside.”

“Do you though?” She tilted her head to the side and squinted at him doubtfully. “Because the lady mother definitely didn’t specify.”

“I do.”

“Give me one good reason, Valen.”

“I can’t see you from out here.”

There it was. The simple reasoning she’d grown to know and sort of like about the big guy. Too bad he’d turned out to be a total untrustworthy asshole.

“That’s it? That’s the argument.”

He shrugged. “That’s it. I’m your sentinel. I have to… watch over you.”

Under different circumstances she’d have had a cleverly inappropriate joke to make about that one, but the pit in her stomach let it slide by.

The three sisters came running out of the back bedroom, loudly announcing their displeasure at her extended absence. Evelyn’s heart tore open at the sight, and she slid to the floor to greet them without bothering with the door. Valen closed, locked, and warded it for her. The sisters continued their chastising mews, stretching up her body to bump her chin with their heads, rubbing their soft bodies all over her with a desperate intensity. Tears ran down her cheeks as her last remaining wall of composure finally crumbled. Unless she could find a way to convince the Lybbestre to let her go, this little life she’d built, the one filled with shiny books, cups of tea, and the irreplaceable sisters—it was over.

“I’ll be in the bedroom.” Valen left her alone with her cats and her grief.

Her sorrow came out in gasping sobs. She was exhausted in every possible way. Images from the last week flashed through her mind—Valen’s house, eating takeout, Kirat’s brave smile in the flickering torchlight, Millie’s technicolor paradise, breakfast burritos, Granny Lucy sitting on a mattress in her tent—it was too much. She didn’t know what had happened to her companions after Lynorra found them, and after her parting jabs about their safety, Evelyn was worried. Fear stalled her tears, and she pulled out her phone. The battery was long dead, and she didn’t have any of their numbers, anyway. Disconnected connections. Her specialty.

“Valen!”

He stuck his head out of the bedroom door. “Yeah?”

“Kirat, Granny Lucy, Armand—do you know what happened to them?”

“They’re alive. I don’t know where they are, but I know they’re unharmed.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something. Assuming he wasn’t simply lying again so she’d comply, do as she was told. “Why did you do it?”

His expression was grim. “I can’t explain it to you yet, but I promise I will as soon as I can.”

Bullshit, she thought.

“Bullshit,” she said.

Evelyn returned her focus to the sisters. She’d had enough of his empty words to last her a lifetime. Ultimately, it didn’t matter why. The end result was undeniable. Her life as she knew it was over, and it was his fault.

Evelyn lay curled up on the couch, three purring friends piled on top of her in a line from hip to shoulder. Nona bumped her head against Evelyn’s hand, then started chewing at an edge of the bandage that had lifted from her skin. She’d forgotten all about that.

She carefully extricated herself from the cuddle pile and went to her bathroom for the first aid kit. Valen was stretched out on her bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Watching her. Right. So vigilant.

She peeled the bandage off her thumb, careful not to further damage the skin underneath it. Stupid fucking tunnel-dwelling monsters with their cold hands and needle teeth. There were several small puncture wounds on the pad of her thumb, and one distinct hole in her thumbnail where a tooth had pierced all the way through to damage the skin beneath it. Dark purple bruising bloomed out from each tooth mark.

“Let me see.” Valen stood in the bathroom door, seemingly summoned by her suffering. He probably wanted to be sure he didn’t miss any of it, the bastard.

“I’m fine.” She tossed the bandage in the trash with her other hand and reached for the bottle of rubbing alcohol. “I just need to clean it and put a fresh bandage on. No need for official sentinel oversight.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled it up closer to his face and the bathroom lights. “How did you get this?”

“Let me go.” She tugged at her wrist, but he didn’t budge. She didn’t want his help. “Valen, let me go.”

“Not until you explain.”

She sighed. “I don’t know what it was. When Kirat and I were wandering in the tunnels after Second Mother, something was following us. Well, me. It grabbed me by the hair and pulled me away down the tunnel. I reached back to try to free myself, and the fucking thing bit me.”

“You didn’t get a look at it?”

“No. Now will you let me go? I want to clean the wound.”

He released her wrist but didn’t move to leave the bathroom. Ignoring him as best she could in the small space, Evelyn washed her thumb gently with soap and water. It looked pretty gnarly but didn’t really hurt. She poured the alcohol over the torn skin, bracing herself for the burn. When it didn’t come, she frowned.

“What?”

“Nothing. It just didn’t hurt to pour alcohol on it, that’s all. Just felt cold, if anything.”

Before she could stop him, Valen snagged her wrist again, this time pressing on the wound. Evelyn shrugged. It didn’t hurt.

“Evelyn.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “There’s deception.”

“What?” She successfully snacked her wrist from his grasp. “Why would there be deception on my thumb?”

She made a show of pressing it with her other hand like Valen had done, but she was actually peering closely at it, trying to see through any false veneer. It wavered, and she looked harder. In a blink, the bite marks were gone. Her thumb appeared completely unharmed.

As soon as the deception fell, cold chills ran up her arm, spreading like icy fire across her chest and down her other arm. So cold. Darkness began to cloud in at the edges of her vision and her head swam. She didn’t realize she was keening to the side until her head rested against Valen’s broad shoulder.

“Fuck.” She wasn’t sure who swore, her or Valen, but they were both right—and something was very, very wrong. She squinted at his face as it swam in and out of focus. What was going on?

Her knees gave next, and she sank further into Valen’s arms, spurring him into action. As her vision clouded over completely, she heard a strange growling sound, then felt him pull her against his chest, hairier than she’d expected considering he was wearing a shirt last time she’d checked. Her world sank into darkness. She barely registered it when they left the apartment, then wind was pulling at her hair as he ran, bumpily, toward she didn’t know what. He smelled different now, earthier, familiar but she couldn’t quite think of why.

And then there was only the dark nothing.