Mikko Lawrence

The garden at Arizona Center was one of Mikko’s favorite places in the city.  It was a public green space, meaning anyone could go there, and it was the most green he usually saw in the city.  A brick plaza enclosed a long pond, palm trees standing at the edges.  Grasses and bushes dotted the garden at different levels.  He thought they were called “terraces” or something like that. 

Someone had obviously put a lot of effort into the design of the garden, and it was so calm.  Small fountains bubbled in the pond and the chatter of people shopping buzzed in the air. 

Footsteps sounded behind him.  It wasn’t until he felt the weight of someone sitting on the bench next to him that he looked up.

A fifteen-year-old girl in jeans and a fuzzy brown sweater sat next to him.  Her golden-brown eyes were bright, and she was almost buzzing with excitement.  Her smile was crooked.  “I won.”

He raised an eyebrow, smiling in challenge at Genie.  “Oh?  What’s up?”

“You know that coffee shop two block over?  I was sitting across from it, and a woman sat down next to me.  She had a bag from a jewelry store.  She got distracted, and I got what was in the bag.”  She grinned, reaching into her pocket and pulled out a ring box.  She opened it, her movements fast and fluid.  She only showed him inside for a second before snapping it shut and putting it back in her pocket.

Mikko’s eyes almost bugged out of his head.  A white gold diamond ring, with a huge rock in the center and small gems on either side.  “What?”

“The tag says it’s over eight thousand dollars.  Almost one and a half carats.”  She grinned triumphantly.  “I win.”

He shook his head, chuckling.  “You’re right.  I think I got maybe a thousand in cash?  And a few gift cards.”

“You just stole wallets?”  The look on her face told him she had expected more.

He shrugged.  “It’s almost Christmas.  Way more cash than any other time of year.  How much cash did you get?”

She scowled because he had there.  “Like two-fifty.”

“So, if you hadn’t hit the jackpot, I would have won.”

She shrugged.  “I stole the ring, and after that, it was hard to care.”

“Fair enough.”

Doing one of these little operations so close to Christmas was always tricky.  Their normal plan when it wasn’t Christmas was to go to an indoor mall and spend the day pickpocketing and stealing.  It usually netted them five or six hundred dollars.  It was usually a slow process because they worked together to keep people distracted while they stole wallets and jewelry.  They always put the wallets back because there was less of a chance of people realizing they had lost their cash.  Most people assumed they had less cash than they had initially thought.  It meant that no one would be reporting the theft to security, and they could fly under the radar better. 

But security was usually tighter because theft was high during the holidays, and it was much easier to get caught.  So, this time of year they had to avoid malls and spend a lot of time in the outdoor shopping districts. It wasn’t normally as lucrative as mall theft, but it was Christmastime, and the sales were everywhere.

 He and Genie had made the plan the day before.  Normally they would do this during the summer, but it had been a hard year for them all and Mikko and Genie wanted to surprise everyone with an expensive dinner and some fun presents.

Thus, the plan to rob people blind by stealing anything even remotely valuable had been born.  They weren’t even returning wallets.

But when it came down to it, Mikko had resorted to lifting wallets.  He wasn’t good at taking jewelry off people like Genie was, and he wasn’t good at lifting things larger than a wallet.  Trying to take purses was tricky and stealing whole shopping bags got unwieldy fast.

“If you want, we can go through lifting jewelry again,” Genie signed as they got off the bus.  “I know you hate it, but it’s so fun!”

“I’m good at lifting wallets!” he argued.  “Why do I need to get better at jewelry?  You and Frankie can do jewelry, I’ll stick to lifting wallets and scamming people.” 

She scowled.  “We’d make more money if you lifted jewelry.”

“We’d be in jail if I lifted jewelry.  You do that, I’ll stick to making the techs from the power company feel bad for us, so we don’t lose power.”

She shrugged but dropped it. “Fine.  Where’s this pawn shop?”

They were about a mile from Mira’s house, on a short boulevard filled with strip malls.  This was where knock-off stores and budget salons lived amidst pawn shops and loan sharks disguised as payday loan services.

He pointed ahead to a pawn shop squished between a Mediterranean restaurant and a “bank”. It was called “Cash & Diamonds”.

“Is that . . . a picture of a diamond instead of the word ‘diamond’?” Genie asked, staring at the sign.

She was right.  In place of where it would say “diamonds” was a simple graphic of a diamond.

“How do you think they filled out the paperwork for their business with the city?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “Diamond emoticon on the application.”

He snorted. 

They stopped at the edge of the strip mall, and Genie pulled out the ring.  She tore off the price tag before stooping down and scraping the band against the ground a few times.  She checked it and scraped it again. 

When she was satisfied, she wiped the ring against her shirt to get any asphalt dust off and put it back in her pocket.  She was making the ring look like it had been worn.  Some pawn shops wouldn’t accept something obviously stolen.

They started off for the shop.  “Did you say this was Carlos’s brother?” she asked.

“Carlos’s brother’s prison cell mate or something.”

She nodded, but he could see the wariness settle in her shoulders.  Dealing with new Hearing people always put her on edge. 

Inside was the cluttered chaos Mikko had come to expect from pawnshops over the years.  TVs and DVD players were at the forefront—the big-ticket items that brought people in.  What a lot of people didn’t know what that it was almost always a rip-off to buy big electronics at a pawn shop unless they offered some sort of warranty.  And most didn’t.  It was too risky.

Along the wall to their left was a glass counter with jewelry on display sandwiched between two pillars.  On either side of the pillars were metal gates that extended from the pillar to the wall, a safety feature to keep people from getting behind the counter. 

A short, barrel-chested man with a large belly straining against a stained, white tank top stood behind the counter display, drinking a glass of ice water.  His hair curled around his ears like dark, wispy clouds avoiding the summit of his bald head.  The clouds moved with the fan that was oscillating on the counter next to him.

He eyed them suspiciously, putting down his water.  A nineteen-year-old beanpole and a fifteen-year-old girl always resulted in furtive, distrustful glances.

“Are you Javier?” Mikko asked tentatively.  He wished his voice didn’t sound as weak as it did.  He envied how strong Sloane or Annie always sounded when they were dealing with new people.

“Yes,” he said, the suspicious look intensifying.  “And you are . . . ?”

“I’m Mikko.  We’re friends of Carlos.  He sent us over to you to sell something off.”  That wasn’t exactly what happened, but he doubted that Carlos would mind.  He always let them use his authority, as long as it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

The suspicious look disappeared.  “Oh?  Carlos Vásquez?”  He said Carlos’s name with a Spanish inflection.  VAS-kez, not VAS-kwez.

“Yeah,” Mikko replied, relaxing a bit.  “He said you and Luis served time together.  Told us you opened a new shop and that you were our best bet for fair prices.”  He glanced down at the jewelry display and immediately looked away.  A ring with a tooth set where a gem would go sat front and center in the display.

Javier puffed up, his beady eyes sparkling.  “Well, he told you right.  What can I do for you two?”

“Well—”

“Can you stop that with your hands?” Javier interrupted.  “It’s distracting.”  The sparkle in his eyes had dimmed, a slight frown of annoyance in the corners of his mouth.

Mikko glanced down at his hands.  He had been signing as he spoke—sim-comming—without thinking about it.  “Um . . . I can’t.  My friend is Deaf.”  He normally would have called Genie his sister, but he was already beginning to see that this man would be intrusive and rude if he did.  Why don’t you look alike?  Oh, foster kids?  And sometimes finding out they were foster kids would get them kicked out.  Even if Mikko wasn’t even a foster kid anymore. 

“Deaf?”  He eyed Genie.  “She don’t look deaf.”

Mikko didn’t interpret that, but it didn’t matter.  Those words had been spoken enough in front of Genie that she could read them on people’s lips. 

“What does Deaf look like?” Genie snapped back, glaring at Mikko.

“What did she say?” Luis asked.

“She said Deaf people look like everyone else,” Mikko answered.

“No, I didn’t,” she replied.  But she didn’t push it.  She just reached into her pocket and slapped the ring down on the class counter.  It made a sharp noise.  “How much?”

Mikko interpreted for her.

“Aww, que linda,” Javier said, smiling at Genie in a way that was normally reserved for puppies or children.

“What?” Mikko said, raising an eyebrow.

“Just, she’s so cute, you know?”

Mikko didn’t reply, just looking from Javier to the ring in a way that told him to move along.

Javier shook his head before finally looking at the ring.

His tune immediately changed.  His wide eyes betrayed his shock and surprise before he spoke.  “Where did you find a nice piece like this?”

Mikko was already feeling exhausted talking to this man.  “Does it matter?  We have it.  We want to sell it.”

Javier didn’t respond, examining the diamond.  He reached under the counter, below the glass, and came back up with one of those magnifying glasses that jewelers had.  After a moment of looking it over, he said, “I could take it off your hands for . . . maybe two-fifty?”

Mikko didn’t even have time to finish interpreting before Genie’s hand shot out and snatched the ring back.  “Fuck this guy,” she snapped.  “Trying to fucking rip us off and treating me like a goddamned infant.”

Javier didn’t know what Genie had said, but he knew it wasn’t good.  “Hey, what’s she so mad for?” he demanded.  “The gold is nice, but those diamonds aren’t real.”

Mikko blinked at him for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lighter.  Taking the ring from Genie, he bunched up the hem of his shirt and held the bottom of the ring through the shirt for protection before flicking the lighter and holding the flame to the diamond.  Sloane had taught him this trick for determining a real diamond.  He had already tested it himself on their way to the bus stop.  And he had checked to make sure the ring sank in water.  The inside of the ring itself was stamped with 24K, telling him it was real gold.

After almost a minute, Mikko dropped the ring into Javier’s ice water.

The diamond did not shatter.

“The retail value on that is over eight thousand dollars.  You should be giving me five thousand  minimum,” Mikko said, grabbing the water before Javier could.  He pulled the ring out and set the water back on the counter.

Something on the shelf behind Javier caught Mikko’s eye, and he almost gasped.  He held it back and forced himself to look back at Javier without reacting.

Javier hadn’t caught Mikko’s momentary distraction.  He was too busy pushing the water away from him, a disgusted look on his face.  He glared at Mikko.  “Was that necessary?”

“You’re trying to rip us off,” Mikko said, keeping his voice even and nonconfrontational.  He didn’t need to use this particular pawn shop, but he subscribed to the honey-versus-vinegar school of thought.

Javier eyed Mikko, and Mikko held his gaze.  He kept his eyes soft—he wouldn’t bend, but he also wouldn’t challenge Javier.  Mikko didn’t think Javier was a magic of any kind, but it didn’t hurt to be careful.  And letting Javier think he was in charge would keep him underestimating Mikko.

Finally, Javier cracked a smile.  “Can’t pull one over on you.  It was a test, you see.  I had to make sure that you wouldn’t get ripped off.  Look out for a friend of Carlos’s, you know.”

“How altruistic,” Genie said. 

“Hush,” Mikko replied without interpreting to Javier.  He put on a warm smile.  “Of course.  Thanks.  So, five grand?”

He shook his head.  “Unfortunately, I don’t have that much liquid.  I can offer you four thousand five hundred and your pick of anything in the store.”

Genie bristled.  “How does a pawn shop not have five thousand onsite right now?”

“Hold on.”

She eyed Mikko suspiciously, but she didn’t reply.

He allowed himself to turn from Javier, eyeing the rest of the store.  There were four aisles.  The first had been TVs and big electronics, but as you went further into the store, the shelves changed from electronics to tools and antiques.  Pawn shops were one of the best places to get nice silverware and plates.  And usually the tools were old, but well put-together. 

Mikko made a show of appraising everything he could see.  He even stepped over to one of the aisles, looking over a flat screen TV.

“You can’t go wrong with that LG,” Javier said, his smile a little too wide.  Something about it told Mikko he could absolutely never buy electronics from here.

Mikko continued, turning slowly.  He looked over the jewelry in the case, carefully refusing to look at the tooth ring.  He realized there was a matching tooth bracelet laid next to it.  Why would anyone ever want to make something like that?  Or buy something like that?

He continued, looking up at the two long shelves behind the counter.  A low stack of open boxes sat below it.  On the shelf behind Javier were a few of those display busts for necklaces.  There were a couple of nice necklaces, with sapphires and emeralds and small diamonds.

But the one he saw that he wanted was plain with a black leather cord.  A large, bright chocolate brown gem, smokey quartz the size of a golf ball, hung from the cord.  It was set into a simple silver plate.  In the center of the silver plate, just barely visible from where Mikko stood, was a rune.

He eyed it before looking at the dark blue necklace next to it.  

After a moment, he pointed at the smokey quartz necklace.  “I want that.”

Javier looked behind him.  “Ah, yes, a nice choice.”  He reached for the dark blue necklace. 
“Sapphire in a white gold—”

“No, the brown stone.  Next to that.”

Javier turned to stone.  He didn’t just pause—his entire body stopped, tense.

“Uh, my apologies.  That is unavailable, on hold for another customer.  I thought I put that away.”  He pulled the necklace and its display down, setting it into one of the open boxes.  He was stiff as he moved, as if he didn’t want to touch it. 

“But—” Mikko started.

“You know what,” Javier interrupted, “I may actually have enough cash in the back.  Follow me.”  He turned back to them, reaching to one side of the counter where there was an extending metal gate installed into one of pillars.  He pulled it across the counter and latched it into the other pillar, keeping anyone from getting behind the counter while he wasn’t there.

Javier exited from behind the counter through the metal gate on the right.  He latched it behind him with a lock, slipping the key into his pocket.  Several boxes were piled next to the gate, one of which he strained to push out of his way as he moved. 

Mikko moved to follow Javier to the back.  He glanced back to see Genie lagging behind, looking at the jewelry in the case.  He tried to get her attention, but she ignored him.

“It’s fine,” Javier said. 

Mikko looked up to see Javier waiting for Mikko.

“She can look at the jewelry.  If she finds anything she likes, she can have it.”  He turned from Mikko, heading to the back.

Mikko didn’t say anything.

“You know, I used to have a dog that was deaf,” Javier said as they reached a door in the back of the room.  He opened it to show a small office the size of a bathroom.  A huge safe was built into the wall. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  But he died.”

Mikko blinked.  How was he supposed to respond to that?

“Wait here,” Javier said.  He stepped into the room, letting the door close halfway behind him.

A couple minutes passed.  Mikko noticed he couldn’t see Genie anymore.  She was too far away to hear, too.

“Something wrong?”

He started, turning to face Javier.  Searching for Genie had distracted him, and he had turned his good ear from Javier toward Genie.

“Nope,” he said, looking down to see Javier holding three stacks of cash.  Two were twenties with a purple band, the third was a stack of tens with a yellow band.  Five thousand dollars straight from the bank.  Genie had been right—he was full of shit about his cash flow.

“Here’s your five grand,” Javier said, holding out the stack.

Mikko held out the ring, and they exchanged money for ring.

“Thank you,” Javier said, holding up the ring to the light before nodding.  “Perfect.”

Mikko nodded, shoving the money into his pockets and pulling his shirt down so no one saw the bulge.

He followed Javier back to the front.

“Where’s the niñita?” he asked, heading toward the gate to go back behind the counter.

As if on cue, Genie stepped out from behind the next aisle over.  She had a telescoping baton in her hand, and she was grinning.

Javier blinked in surprise before laughing.  “Ah, okay.  Tell her she can have that.”

Mikko interpreted and she grinned, pocketing the baton.  She signed thank you to Javier.

“You’re welcome,” he said, opening the gate and getting behind the counter.  “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“You, too,” Mikko said.

Genie waved at him, and they left the pawn shop.

It wasn’t until they were a block away, out of sight from the shop, before Mikko stopped, turning to face Genie.  “What did you do?”

She pouted.  “What do you mean?”

He gave her a look.  “You live to fuck with Hearing people.  What did you do?”

She continued to pout but when he didn’t drop it, the pout turned to a grin.  She reached into her shirt and pulled out the necklace that Mikko had wanted.

Mikko’s jaw dropped, and he inhaled sharply, putting his hands to his mouth.

The devilish grin disappeared, replaced with concern.  “What’s wrong?”

He reached out slowly for the pendant, closing his hand around the stone.  It was warm from being in Genie’s bra. 

Genie let go of it and the leather strap fell against the back of his hand.

He opened his hand to look at the necklace.  Smokey quartz.  Rune in the silver beneath the stone.  He turned it over to see an inscription in the back.  My love.

“Hey.” Genie waved her hand to get his attention.  “What is it?”

“This was Mira’s grandmother’s.”

Genie’s brow furrowed in confusion.  “What?  How do you . . .”  Her eyes widened as she realized.  “You’re why it was in a pawn shop.”

He bit his lip, unable to meet Genie’s eyes.  “This is the thing I regret the most.  Sacrificing this necklace for cocaine.” He smiled bitterly.  “They only gave me ten dollars for it.”

Genie wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug so tight, it was difficult to breathe.

He hugged her back awkwardly.  He didn’t think he deserved this sympathy, but he also wouldn’t reject Genie’s embrace. 

“You have it now,” Genie said when she pulled away.  “I’m sure Mira would love this as a Christmas gift.”

He smiled.  “Thank you so much for taking it.”

She grinned.  “Of course.  That guy was a fuckhead, and he deserved it.”

He chuckled, handing her back the necklace.  He didn’t have the space in his pockets for it.  “How did you get it anyway?  All those gates—you don’t have your lockpick on you, do you?”

She shook her head.  “All those boxes he had stacked next to the gate?  They went up high enough that I just climbed up on them.”  She rolled her eyes.  “What an idiot.”

He remembered how Javier had struggled to move one of those boxes out of the way.  They must have been heavy enough to support her weight.

Genie took his hand, and they started walking in the direction of Mira’s house.

“He told me he had a dog that was deaf.  But it died.”

Genie stared at him in confusion.  “Why?”

Mikko threw his hands up.  “I’d say I wish I knew, but I really don’t want to know why he felt the need to tell me.”

She shook her head.  “Fucking Hearing people.”

“Seriously.”

Sloane Briallen

The scent of wet asphalt and brine slammed into me like a punch in the gut, as I stepped out of the car.  I found myself bracing against the door frame, my heart racing.  I had to close my eyes to stop the lightheadedness that threatened to overwhelm me.

I had spent the past several days anxious, thinking of confronting my adoptive parents for the first time in two years.  I had been so focused on this trip that it hadn’t even crossed my mind that I’d have to deal with sense memory.

I had only lived in Port Orchard for two years.  And I had been gone for just as long.  I had expected it to feel familiar.

I hadn’t expected the way my heart would ache at the scent of grass and forest and salt.

Mickey, Bell, and I had driven together, but I was alone as I got out of the car.  I had to let Mickey and Bell out a mile out of town.  As far as anyone here knew, they had disappeared midway through our senior year of high school.  Pulling up in a car when everyone thought you were dead in the woods somewhere was a good way to make a scene, and none of us wanted that.

I had parked a few houses down from our house.

The air was wet, the sky filled with grey clouds.  Sad, sloshy snow covered the ground in patches.  This was the Olympic peninsula and whenever it snowed, it tended to get very wet. 

But, even though it was cold out, the neighborhood was filled with life.  Kids played catch in the street; parents talked to each other over fences; neighbors worked on getting the slush out of their yard.  This community was outdoorsy.

As I walked, I saw double takes and heard whispers with my name.  I’d been a well-known figure in Port Orchard.

“Sloane!”

I looked up to see Rita Berber, our next-door neighbor, standing in her yard with her son, Jonathan.  Jonathan was working on getting slush off the front steps while Mrs. Berber stood in the doorway.

I stopped, putting on a fake smile.  “Oh, Mrs. Berber! Jonathan.” 

“Hey, Sloane,” Jonathan mumbled, looking down.  I could hear his heart speed up in reaction to his blushing.  He still had a crush on me even two years later. 

“It’s been, what?  Almost two years since I last saw you?”  Mrs. Berber glanced toward Jonathan, who was doing his best not to look at me.  I felt bad for him.  “Hasn’t it, Jonathan?” she asked him.

“Yes, Mom.”  The words were barely intelligible as he scrapped snow off the bottom step with a shovel.

Jonathan was a cute boy with long, curly brown hair and friendly brown eyes that lit up whenever he smiled.  He had strong shoulders from years of yard work for his arthritic, green-thumbed mother.

I heard footsteps inside their house, and the screen door opened.  A girl with rosy skin and dyed dark red hair stepped out.  She wore black glasses over bright blue eyes.  In her hands was a college chemistry book. 

Tessa.  Bell’s ex-girlfriend, and now, apparently, Jonathan’s girlfriend.  She’d be a sophomore at Seattle U now.

“Ah, Tessa!” Mrs. Berber called out.  “Do you remember Sloane?”

Kind of hard not to.  She’d hated me since the first day we’d met when I had shown up in Port Orchard, and suddenly, Mickey, Bell, and I were inseparable.

She didn’t even try to fake a smile.  She just rolled her eyes.  “Hello, Sloane.”  

“So, where do you go to school?” Mrs. Berber asked, either not noticing Tessa’s disdain as she went to ask Jonathan a question about something, or just politely and kindly ignoring it.

I shrugged.  “At the moment, I’m just getting on my feet, a few things have happened, and I’ve had to reorganize my priorities.”   Yeah, like the daily question of whether I should drink bottled blood or animal blood. 

She nodded solemnly.  “I can imagine,” she said.  “Life is crazy sometimes.”

She had no idea.

She caught me glanced at Mauve and Leah’s two-story house next door.  “Are you visiting Mauve and Leah?”

“Yeah.”  I caught her sad look out of the corner of my eye.  If she only knew about Mickey and Bell. 

“Okay, well I won’t keep you.  Give them my best.”

I managed another smile.  “I will.  It was good seeing you.  Goodbye.”   I left.  I could feel Tessa’s cool gaze on me as I went.

Mauve and Leah’s house was a two-story Victorian painted navy blue, framed by two leafless oaks.  A walkway led from the sidewalk to four concrete steps that went up to the wraparound screened-in porch.  Two wicker chairs and my favorite rocking chair sat on the porch, still where they had been before I’d left.

I heard four heartbeats in the house.  Two were normal human heartbeats and two were fast, shifter heartbeats.  Mickey and Bell had beaten me here.

Walking toward the house and thinking about the Berbers, it was crazy.  My life was so . . . not like that.  It never would be.  Mrs. Berber would maybe become a grandmother, and she would die.  Jonathan and Tessa would maybe get married one day, maybe have kids, grow old, and die.  And their kids would grow up, get old, and die.

I would never have a life like that.  Not ever.  I would continue my life, and I would never die until something killed me.  I would never get married.  I would never have kids.

I would never live a vanilla life.  A quiet, sentimental part of me ached at the thought of that.

I found myself standing before the front door.  Before I could decide not to open it, it opened for me.  A man almost my height, but twice as wide, stood there.  He wore a pair of sweatpants, revealing the body of a wrestler, with thick arms and a trunk for a torso.  His chestnut hair stuck to his wide jawline, fresh from the shower.

“Let’s get it over with,” Bell murmured.

I followed him through the door.  The threshold let me pass without any issues.  This had been my home for two years.  Apparently I was still welcome.

I followed Bell through a hallway filled with framed photos into a living room.  The room was painted a soothing burnt sienna, with warm brown furniture in a circle around a glass-topped coffee table.  A TV and sound system sat across the room from the furniture.

Another man, taller than me, sat on a recliner, dark red hair pulled back into a ponytail.  He had the same sharp jawline as Bell and their mothers.  He wore a T-shirt and jeans.  Mickey.

Two women sat on a loveseat facing me. 

Mauve was a tan, curvy woman with dark hair wearing jeans and a red knit sweater.  She had the same eyes and nose as her son, Mickey.  On Mickey, these manifested as friendly, approachable features.  On Mauve, her brow was heavy, and the strong jawline and nose made her look hard.

Leah, on the other hand, was slender, wearing leggings and a long tunic.  She had blonde hair and the same eyes as Bell, but her face was softer.  She was paler than Mauve, and heavily freckled.  She had the same jawline and nose they all had.  They were all clearly related.

I was the oddball out.  Pale skin, bright eyes and almost-black hair.

I stopped in the doorway, unsure of what to say.  Seeing Mauve and Leah wasn’t the same punch in the gut that the asphalt and brine had been.  The sight of them didn’t bring any of the anger or sadness.

It just brought a weird, uncomfortable numbness.

Leah stood up.  “Hi, honey.”

I couldn’t find my voice to reply.  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“Sloane?” Mauve said.

Here were the two women who had hidden Mickey and Bell from me for two years.  The women who slept in the same house as their grieving daughter, keeping to themselves the knowledge that could stop her grieving at any time.  The women who had called me their family while lying to my face every day.

But here were also the two women who had taken me in.  Who had fought to take me from Phoenix.  Who had done everything to bring me here.

How did I reconcile those two things?

I heard the clicking of nails on tiles.  Something pressed into my hip and I looked down.  A white German Shepherd grinned up at me, tail wagging, tongue lolling out.

“Norton!” I cried out, stooping down to scratch his head.  God, I had forgotten about him.  We had only gotten him about a year before I left.  He had been a police dog before being retired.   

He was wet and panting.  He must have just come through the doggie door from the backyard.

Norton was content to let me scratch him, eyes closed in pure bliss.  He was a dog—historically very unfriendly to vampires—and he had no problem with me being a vampire.

Finally, I exhaled, looking up.  Mauve’s face was impassive, but Leah’s was not.  I could see the worry on her face.

Bell had moved to stand behind the loveseat.  He was one of those people—a stander.  One of those guys who never sat down in a group of people.

But him standing there, with his mom and Mauve and Mickey . . . there was a gulf between us.  A separation, with them on one side, and me on the other.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The question hung in the air between us.  It widened the gulf.  An ocean of separation inside of fifteen feet.

“We wanted to,” Mauve finally said.

“Sweetie, we really did,” Leah said.

I blinked at them, staring in disbelief.  “Really, that’s all you got?”

“Don’t you—” Mauve started in a scolding tone.

I cut her off.  “No—you lied to me.”  I gestured to Mickey and Bell.  “About them.”  I pressed my lips together to keep them from wobbling.  I was angry, but the tears were threatening to flow.  I didn’t want to cry.  Not right now.  “How could you?”

Mauve opened her mouth, but Leah put a hand on her arm.  Mauve shut her mouth.

“It was to protect you, baby.”  Leah  stood up, stepping forward.  She shortened the gap between us.

“From what?”  My voice was reedier than I wanted it to be.

Leah looked at Mauve for a second before saying, “Come here and sit with us.”

I sat down on the floor.  Norton climbed in my lap, and I glared at them. 

“Mature,” Mauve said.

“You’d do the same.”

She didn’t have a reply for that.  Mauve survived on spite.

Leah held up a hand to Mauve to silence her.  She came to sit on the floor in front of me, meeting my gaze with warm brown eyes.  “Honey, it was a terrible situation.  But we were trying to do what was best to keep you all safe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  My voice cracked, but I held in the tears that threatened to spill.  I had promised myself that I wouldn’t cry.  I had already spent too much time crying over this.

She shook her head sadly.  “We thought we were doing what was best for you all.  Their anger was so explosive in those first few months.  They were dangerous and—”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” I protested.  “I’ve spent my whole life around shifters.  They weren’t dangerous when they first transformed—”

“Were those shifters who transformed as young teenagers?  With parents who were shifters, too?”

I paused.  “Yes.”

“That’s not how it works when you transform as late as they did.  And shifter parents generally have the strength to reel their kids back in.”

I didn’t have an answer for that.  I didn’t know anyone who transformed late.  Most of Annie’s friends started transforming as early teenagers.  Annie started even earlier at age eight, but halfshifter bodies were different than fullshifters’. And a lot of shifters I had known in Phoenix had been adults.  I hadn’t known them when they first started shifting.

“Shifters who transform as late as the boys did—their aggression is ten times worse.”

She pulled down the neck of her tunic to her shoulder to reveal three parallel scars, the center scar the longest, across her shoulder and down halfway across her chest.

“I had to have a blood transfusion and I have permanent nerve damage in this arm,” she said, rubbing her left forearm. 

I blinked.  “What?”

“This happened four months after you left,” she said.

I looked up at Bell, but he met my gaze.  I had assumed it was him.  He was so much more the hot head.

But, when I looked at Mickey, he was the one who couldn’t meet my gaze.

Mickey had done this to her.

“This was what we were dealing with, Sloane.  They were out of control.  You’ve had experience with wolves and vampires—they can handle an attack like this.”

But a human couldn’t.  I couldn’t have survived that.

But it didn’t matter.  “You took the choice away from me.”  I gently pushed Norton off my lap before standing up.  “Did they tell you?”  I looked at Mickey and Bell.  “That I had experience with magics?”

“They did.  But again, what did it matter?” Mauve replied, speaking over whatever Leah was going to say.  “You could have still gotten hurt.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!”

“It was the decision we made to protect our kids.  All of our kids.”  Mauve’s gaze was hard and unwavering.  “Maybe it wasn’t good—but we did what we thought would keep you all alive.  Especially you.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t do such a good job of that did you?” I shot back.  “I’m fucking dead anyway.”

Mauve’s mouth dropped.  Pain flashed across wide, shocked eyes.

Good.

“Sloane!” Bell said sharply, taking a step towards me.

“No, fuck you guys.  I’m out.”

Anger colored my vision as I ran.  Everything was so much clearer, and I could smell the pine around me so sharp, it was like I had plunged headfirst into a pool of sap.  My thoughts ran with me, vacillating between anger at them and anger at me.

They had done what they thought was necessary?  They were “keeping us safe”?  What sort of bullshit excuse was that?

But then again, hadn’t I done the same thing to Mickey and Bell so many years ago?  Hadn’t I cut them off to save them the heartache of seeing what I had become?

How was I so different?

I had been twelve, and Mikko had been with me.  It was his birthday, and I had some money from pickpocketing at the mall.  I wanted to take him to the ice cream shop as a celebration.

The shop was almost blinding from the Phoenix sunlight coming in through the wall of windows.  Everything in the room was white—white floors, white tables, white walls.

There was a case along one wall displaying the ice cream flavors next to a cash register.  We sat at a plastic white table, Mikko with strawberry, me with cookie dough.  Mikko was turning twelve.

“Aren’t you sticky?” I asked, watching as melted ice cream dripped over his hands, sticking between his fingers.

He shrugged, using his non-sticky hand to push his dark hair from his face.  He refused to meet my eyes, which annoyed me.  But I had promised Annie that I would leave him alone today.  It was his first birthday with us.  I had to be nice.

“Sloane?”

I hadn’t heard that voice in months.

I looked up to see Mickey and Bell standing just inside the doorway of the shop.  Bell had been the one to call my name.

They hadn’t changed much since I had last seen them.  Maybe a little taller.  But Mickey was still pretty chubby with round cheeks, and Bell was skinny with knobby knees.

“Uh . . . hi.”

“How are you?” Bell asked, a tentative smile on his face.

The smile made my stomach fall.  I shrugged.  “Here and there.  You guys?”

“Mauve got offered a job in Seattle to work there,” Bell replied.  Mauve was a literary agent. 

I knew what that meant.  They’d move.  They’d be away from me.  And that was their best chance.

“Oh, that sounds great.  I’m glad you’re going,” I told them, keeping my voice even.  The words sucked the air from my lungs as I said each one.

I apparently wasn’t the only one who felt the breathlessness.  Mickey’s mouth twisted, and he glanced at Bell.  Bell had stiffened.

But, God bless him, Bell tried anyway.

“Sloane, you can come with us.  We can adopt you, and you can move away with us.” 

I shook my head.  “No.  I can’t.”

Mickey finally spoke.  I heard the way his voice hitched as he did.  “Why not?”

I glanced at Mikko, who was looking between us.  He didn’t say anything.

I stood up and nodded towards the door.  I didn’t want to talk in front of Mikko.

Bell and Mickey followed me out into the ninety-five-degree weather.  I stayed under the awning to avoid the sun shining directly in my face.  I noticed the way Mickey’s nose wrinkled as he stood closer to me.  I hadn’t had access to a shower in days, and I hadn’t changed clothes in almost as long.  I couldn’t even smell it anymore.

“You should go,” I said.  I kept my voice as even as I could.  “I don’t belong with you guys.”

“Yes, you do,” Mickey argued.  He took a step forward and I could already see the sweat beading on his forehead.  He hated the heat.  “You should be with us.  You should come with us.  It’s—”

“No,” I barked.

Mickey jumped, and Bell’s brow furrowed in confusion.

I hadn’t meant snap at them.  But . . . the dreaded day had finally come.  I had hoped I would never have to do this.

I took a deep breath and smoothed my expression out.  When I felt like I looked impassive enough, I said, “Because, Mickey and Bell.  I don’t care anymore.  Not about you.  Not about Mauve and Leah.  I wish you’d move so I never saw you again.  Then we wouldn’t bump into each other all the time, and it wouldn’t be this awkward small talk and desperate begging.”

The words hung between us.  And for a moment, I found my hands twitching, wishing I could grab them out of the air and put them back.  I wanted to tell them it was a lie.  I wanted them to know that I didn’t mean it.  That I missed them more than they could ever know.

But the anguish in their eyes stilled my hands.

I couldn’t take this back.  And I shouldn’t take this back.  Because they didn’t depend on me.  They wanted me to be a part of their family, but I already had a family that needed me.

I glanced back at Mikko through the window.  His eyes were on his ice cream.

I looked back at Mickey and Bell.  “Please go, before you embarrass yourself more.”  I hated every word as they came out.  I was the embarrassing one.

Mickey opened his mouth, but Bell put a hand on his shoulder.  Bell’s anguish had disappeared, replaced by the anger he had always done so well.

“Fuck you, Sloane.”  He turned from me and started down the street.

Mickey looked between me and Bell.  The distress in his eyes made my chest ache.  I could barely meet them.

But I needed to.  I needed him to leave.  I met his gaze.

And finally, he did.

I waited until they turned the corner before going back inside.  My chest felt hollow, a buzzing noise filling my head.

I sat down numbly across from Mikko.

“What’s wrong, Sloane?” Mikko asked, his mouth covered in ice cream.  He only glanced up at me for a split second.

I shook my head, ignoring the stinging sensation behind my eyes.  “Nothing, Mikko.  Just had to take care of some old problems.” 

He didn’t reply, going back to his ice cream.  Mine was melting in the sunlight.

I didn’t tell Mikko about how hollow and cold I felt inside.  It was easy to pretend that I wasn’t falling to pieces.  It was something I learned to do, living like I did.  It got to be routine where I woke up every morning, pretending everything was okay and that my life wasn’t spiraling out of control.  Being with Mikko was no different.  It was easy to fake everything.

I had thought I was doing the right thing at the time.  I thought I was protecting everyone.  By that age, I was with Annie and Mikko and Mira, and we stayed together.  I couldn’t go back with Mickey and Bell.  They had family.  They did.  And I wasn’t part of “they”.  I was part of “we”.  I had to stay.

So, going back to now, going back to reuniting after Mickey and Bell had disappeared—didn’t that all mean that I walked out first?  Eight years ago, wasn’t I the one who walked out first?  When I told Bell and Mickey that I didn’t need them?

Was this what I deserved?

“Sloane.”

I’d already heard them coming.  I didn’t bother trying to pretend otherwise.  I had escaped into the woods behind their house and climbed up a cedar tree, sitting on the lowest branch, twenty feet in the air.  It was cold and wet, and the air was almost oppressive in its weight.  I couldn’t feel cold, but I could feel the humidity.

They stood at the base of the tree, looking up at me. 

“This was a horrible idea,” I said.

“They were just trying to do what was best,” Bell shot back defensively.

“Taking away my choices from me is what’s best?”  I stood up on the tree branch.  I took a certain amount of satisfaction in being above them.

Mickey was the one to reply.  It was the first time I had heard him speak since we had come back to Port Orchard.   “Sometimes parents have to do what they think will best protect their kids.  Even if it hurts.”

“No.”  I shook my head.  “They were stupid and reckless, and they hurt all of us in the process.  Why are you siding with them?”

“It’s not sides, Sloane,” Mickey said.  “Come down here.”

I sneered at him, but he met my gaze with a steady expression. 

Finally, I jumped down behind them.  They turned to face me.

“I lived in that house.  For six months.  And they knew.  They knew where you were.  And they knew what I was going through.”  I glared at them, tears threatening to spill.  My throat ached as I spoke, and I fought to keep my voice from cracking.  “How is that protecting us?”  I clenched my fists.  “How did that protect me?”

“Better sad than dead,” Bell replied.  His brown eyes were hard, his jaw clenched.

“And apparently better dead than happy.”

“But you’re not dead, Sloane.  You’re a vampire, but here you fucking are.  You’re here, fighting with me.”  He motioned to Mickey.  “Talking to us.  Don’t stand there, fucking telling me, that you’re miserable as a vampire when—”

“When what, Bell?   When being a vampire means this?”  I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled up to show the thick, white scar that tore from my sternum down to my pelvis.

His mouth shut so fast that I heard his teeth click together.

“I was torn apart because Ilona decided I was taking away her toy.  My insides were ripped out of me.  My uterus is gone.”  I glared at him.  “Or have you already forgotten?”

He didn’t answer.

“Mikko was tortured.  Genie and Frankie’s parents are dead.  All because I met the wrong guy at a bar.  In a city I would have had no reason to be in, if I had known you were alive.

“So, no.  You’re right.  I’m not dead.  But what price did I pay that I’m still here?”

Neither of them had an answer to that.

“Did anyone think of that?  Did anyone realize the consequences of this?  Because the only fucking reason that I am right here, right now—standing here—is because of a decision they made without consulting me.”

“There was no way to know—” Mickey started.

“The fuck there was,” I snarled.  “I was broken.  When you left, it broke me.  And everyone could fucking see it.  Everyone except, apparently, your parents.”

There was no response.  Bell’s jaw was clenched, and Mickey was obviously trying to search for something to say.

“Whatever,” I finally said, waving my hand dismissively at them.  “I’m leaving.”

“Sloane, don’t you walk out on us!” Bell shouted as I turned my back.

“You walked out on me,” I replied.  “I’m just continuing the legacy of walk-outs.”

The receiving hall of the vampire courts had been carved out of grey slate.  Not built, carved.  The walls were smooth, but Karhi could see the fine marks where a tool had cut into stone. 

The woman who had led them here had called it a hall, but it wasn’t nearly large enough to constitute a true hall.  It was a receiving room at best. 

A portion of the floor was raised, taking up half of the room.  There were a handful chairs meant to be small thrones—mid-eighteenth-century wood, carved with the ornate detail expected from their time, upholstered with richly coloured chintz and silk.  A single woman sat at the front on a dark wood chair with birds carved into the legs.

Her hair was a glossy dark walnut, bound to her head.  An enormous gold Byzantine crown sat atop her hair, gems glittering from the sides and top.  Long earrings made of green gemstones and gold hung from her ears.  A gold neck piece sat on her shoulders, from which a green and gold gown flowed. 

The woman herself was gorgeous, with honey-coloured eyes and flawless olive skin.  She had crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and deep dimples at the corners of her mouth.  Even though she was close to fifteen hundred years old, she looked to be in her mid-fifties.  She held herself with the grace expected from an empress, head high and back straight.

“Sloane Briallen Emelyn,” Empress Theodora said, looking Sloane up and down.

Karhi felt Sloane’s annoyance at the use of Briallen as her middle name.  She hated the tradition of calling fledglings by their sire’s last names. 

Outwardly, she didn’t react.  She curtsied, as Karhi had been teaching her, and said, “Your Grace.” 

Sloane wore a charcoal grey suit, not a dress, but the curtsy still worked to show deference.  This was the woman who would sentence her (read: Karhi) for her violation of the Samhain covenant.  She needed to make a good impression so her (read: Karhi’s) sentence wouldn’t be too bad.

“You understand of what you have been accused?”

“Yes, ma’am.  I broke the Samhain covenant.”  She made sure to pronounce Samhain as sow-in like Karhi had told her to.  It was the traditional Irish pronunciation.  It wouldn’t ingratiate her, but it wouldn’t hurt her, either, like pronouncing it sam-hane would.

However, she didn’t say Your Grace.  That would hurt them if she kept it up.

The empress looked annoyed.  “It is ‘your Grace’, not ‘ma’am’.”

“Yes, ma—your Grace.”  She caught herself that time.

She eyed Sloane but didn’t comment.  “Yes, you broke the Samhain covenant.  You used your soulsilver on Ilona Muire Emelyn.” 

She didn’t say that Sloane had killed Ilona.  No one was quite sure where Ilona was or what had become of her, but they all knew she was still alive.  Karhi would know if she was dead.

“I did, your Grace,” Sloane replied.

“But you are not yet twenty, nor have you yet met your year mark.  As such, the punishment will go to your sire, Karhi Emelyn.”

Karhi felt Sloane’s annoyance when his middle name was not used.  She glanced at him, but he didn’t meet her eyes as she said, “Yes, your Grace.”  He didn’t want to explain why the courts didn’t use his human surname as his middle name.

The empress looked at Karhi, and he met her gaze.  He was old enough that he didn’t need to show quite as much deference.  “Your punishment has been determined.  You will return to your home to receive the decision.”

He allowed his confusion to show.  This was weird.  And the empress knew that.  “Your Grace?” he asked.

Annoyance coloured the empress’s features.  “A special request has been made for your punishment.  The requestor wants to inform you of their wishes to you and only you.”  Her eyes were narrowed as she said, “They also wished to reveal themselves to you and only you.”

With each word out of Empress Theodora’s mouth, Karhi’s confusion only grew.  “Your Grace, do you know the identity of my requestor?”

“I do,” she said stiffly.  Karhi’s question seemed to push her annoyance closer into anger territory. 

Karhi’s confusion wasn’t cleared by the answer.  But it was best not to invoke her ire.

He bowed.  “Your Grace.”

Sloane took that as her cue to curtsy again.

Empress Theodora nodded and made a motion best described as her shooing them out.  It was still an elegant gesture.

Karhi had been to the courts a few times over the years.  He knew the way back to the double doors through which they would exit the courts.

The doors were four times taller than Karhi and as wide as his full wingspan.  One door was pale wood, the colour of peeled almonds.  The other was dark wood, the colour of shelled cocoa.  Where handles should have been, were twin shafts of light the length and width of his forearms.  The light bled out into the doors, swirling through carvings that covered the door, the light dimming the closer it got to the edges.

Next to the door stood a figure draped in a long white cloak with a hood.  A thin black line started at the top of the hood and swirled around the cloak, thickening until it enveloped the bottom hem that touched the floor.

The figure’s face was beautiful but unsettling.  Their eyes were flooded with the same bright light as on the door, and it cast strange shadows on their face.  Their cheekbones were sharp, their jaw cast in shadow that almost melted it into their neck.

They turned to regard Karhi and Sloane, blinking, projecting the curious air of a cat watching for a mouse.

“Location?” they asked.  Their voice was pleasant.

“Mortal Realm.  St. Paul, Minnesota, USA.”

They nodded, moving to the light door and putting their hand on it.  They closed their eyes and as they did, the shadows on their face receded, giving them normal features.  A button nose and small ears.

They opened their eyes, and the illusion of humanity shattered, the shadows returning.  “Make sure to jump when you arrive to help with the dizziness.” 

They opened the door and beyond it was the alley through which they had come to the vampire courts.

“Thanks,” Sloane murmured.

Sloane disappeared through the door. 

Karhi followed her, and his world lurched.

Everything around him rolled, a conflagration of colours spinning in his vision.  He shut his eyes, but the feeling made his stomach rise.  Stupid old human reactions.  He couldn’t even throw up.

Karhi opened his eyes to find himself back in the alley.  The brick wall behind them showed no sign of the portal that ejected them.

He brought his hand to his head as everything continued to spin.  He made a noise of annoyance.

“Jump,” Sloane told him.

He ignored her and stepped forward, immediately stumbling.  Sloane stepped aside to avoid him falling on her. 

He cursed as he barely caught himself on one knee, glaring up at Sloane.

“I told you to jump.  You didn’t.  This is all on you.”

He replied with something vulgar as he got up, sneering at her.

“You go find a horse’s vagina,” she snapped back, moving to exit the alley.

Karhi followed her to the street, surging forward to catch up to her. “What?”

She jumped, not expecting him to be right at her side.  “What?” she shot back defensively, continuing down the street.  They had exited onto Kellogg Boulevard, which ran parallel to the river.  There was a black Town Car parallel parked just outside of the alley, motor running.  Plumes of white vapor puffed off the muffler.

Normally, they could have just walked back to their apartment.  But Sloane was in heels, and Karhi was in loafers—Minnesota in the middle of winter was not conducive to dress shoes.  The snowbanks came up to their hips.

Sloane climbed into the backseat of the car.  “Welcome back, ma’am,” he heard the chauffer say.

“Thanks.”

Karhi climbed into the car, shoving Sloane over as he did.  She glared at him, but he ignored her.  “Swanskin’s,” he told the driver.

“Yes, sir.”

“Swanskin’s?” Sloane asked as the car pulled out of the spot.  “Aren’t we supposed to go home and wait?”

Karhi waved off the question, making a face of annoyance.  “Ilona doesn’t hold any sway over me anymore.  I’m not going to allow anyone else to make me wait on them.  They can see me when they see me.”

Sloane shrugged.  He could feel that she thought it was a dumb decision, but she also didn’t feel the need to argue.  She would have likely done the same.

But that didn’t matter.  He wanted to know something else.

 “Sloane—you understand Finnish?” 

She looked up, green eyes meeting his.  Confusion coloured her features.  “What?”

“I said, ‘Painu hevon vittuun’.”

She blinked in confusion.  “You . . . didn’t say that English?”

“I did not.”

English didn’t really have swears that involved horses.  And while the sentiment behind his curse had meant, “fuck off”, it translated more to, “go find a horse’s vagina” or “go climb up a horse’s vagina”. 

Sloane ran her fingers through her hair and looked back out the window.  “Uh . . . yeah.  I do.”

“How?”

She bit her lip, and he could feel her contemplating how to answer before finally saying, “I had a mummi and an ukki.” 

Those were the terms for grandmother and grandfather in Finnish.

She had learned it from her grandmother and grandfather.

He had questions, but he found the wind out of his sails.  He didn’t want to know anymore.  She had only grown up with one set of grandparents, having never known her father or his family.

They pulled up in front of Swanskin’s, and Karhi got out.  It took him a split second to realize that Sloane wasn’t moving to get out on his side.  She stayed in place.

He stuck his head back in through the door.  “You coming?”

“Bell and Mickey are waiting for me in the lobby at the apartment.”

“I thought that was later.  All right, I’ll see you in four days.”  He didn’t let his relief that she was leaving show on his face.  She could probably feel it anyway.

“Yup.”

He closed the car door and heard Sloane direct the chauffeur back to their apartment.

The car left, and he went inside.

The room was a dark wood that gave it a slick, clean look.  Tables made of pale wood popped against the darkness.  They broke up the monotony of the colours while tying the room together nicely with accents of the pale wood in the floors.  The walls were painted a muted sage green.  Paintings and prints for purchase by local Indigenous artists adorned the walls. 

The most notable aspect of the interior was the pillars that held up the room.  The owner of the bar came from an Indigenous family that had both O’odham and Tlingit roots.  The pillars were covered in traditional carvings, lacquered for preservation.  His favourite was a black bear with mountains jutting out from its back.

The owner of the place, Niquita Swanskin, stood behind the bar, mixing a drink with blood and alcohol.  The top of her head came up to his chest.  She was slim, corded with lean muscle.  Her jawline was sharp, but her short hair framed her face in such a way as to soften it.  She had warm, tawny skin, still dark despite the winter.

She glanced up as he approached the bar and nodded to him.  “Isn’t it early for you?”

“Unfortunately.  A certain fledgling had court.”  Sloane’s case was especially well known amongst the magical community in Minnesota.  A fledgling, not even at her year mark, attacking and winning against a millennium-old vampire?  Who was also her grandsire?  She was already making a name for herself.

Niqui smirked, a glint in her dark eyes.  “And what did you get punished with?”  She scooped ice into the shaker she’d poured alcohol and blood into.  “Hopefully nothing too fun.”

He snorted but it didn’t have much in it.  “I still don’t know.”

Niqui raised an eyebrow.  “What?  Don’t your courts pass judgement quickly?”  She capped the shaker and shook it.

“And they did.  But they didn’t tell me what it was.  Just that my requestor ‘wanted to talk to me face to face’.”  He used air quotes as he said that.  “Whatever that means.”

She grimaced sympathetically, grabbing a glass from under the bar and setting it down.  “Where’s she now?”

“Dealing with more family stuff.”

“Never ends with that girl, does it?”

“It does not.  Can I get a bloody screwdriver?”

“Anything for you,” she said, winking at him and putting the shaker into the sink.  “Bloody old fashioned!” she called out.

“Hey, when are you off?” he asked watching her press the shaker down on the glass rinser.

“In an hour,” she replied.  She looked up from the shaker.  “Unfortunately for you, I will remain forbidden fruit.”

“Oh?”  He arched an eyebrow.  “My fledgling doesn’t work for you anymore, and I don’t have the whole sire-will-kill-you-for-messing-around-with-me thing anymore.”

“Still trying to sleep with anyone with a pulse?”

Karhi had not expected to hear that voice.  He turned to see the owner of the bloody old-fashioned order.

A woman with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair stood next to him at the bar.  She wore jeans with heeled black combat boots and a dark red cashmere sweater.  There was a neat look to her—pressed clothes, no make-up, and her nails were manicured with no polish. 

She looked up at him with big blue eyes, barely coming up to his chest.  She was a petite woman.

She was also one of the most fearsome vampires in the world.

“Aoife?”  He stared at her, eyes wide with surprise.

“I knew you wouldn’t go back to your apartment like you were supposed to.  I knew you would be petty and come here.”

His eyes couldn’t get any bigger, but his confusion didn’t get any smaller.  “Wait . . . you’re my requestor?”

“On behalf of my house.”

He stared at her.

“Bloody screwdriver.”  Niqui set Karhi’s drink down.

Aoife took his drink and moved over to one of the booths.  Karhi saw that she had a backpack already there, propped against the wall. 

“Where’s your fledgling?” she asked, sitting down in the booth.  “I assumed she would be with you.”

“She does her own shit,” he shrugged, sliding in across from her. 

Aoife passed his drink to him, and he took a sip.  Orange juice and blood was always a strange combination, but it was one he had found himself developing a taste for over the years.

“She’s not here?” she asked, reaching for her backpack.

“No.  She has a family thing to deal with.  She’ll be back in four days.”  He wasn’t going to tell her that Sloane was probably still here.  Sloane had been obsessing about going to Port Orchard ever since she had agreed to it.  And her anxiety had put him so on edge all week that he had been relieved when it turned out she was leaving earlier in the day.

Aoife’s hand was on her backpack, and it stilled.  She looked at Karhi.  “Four days?”  Her expression was unreadable.

“Yes . . .”  He took another sip of his drink.  Why would Aoife be interested in this?

“You didn’t make her stay with you until you knew your sentence?”

Her voice was curiously devoid of emotion, and it made Karhi’s hair stand on end.  He had just spent the better part of five hundred years terrified of a vampire who was much older than him.  And Aoife was also much older than him.  That coupled with the ride he had been put through in October with Sloane had instilled a certain distrust of anyone who questioned how he handled his fledgling.

“And why would it matter if my fledgling was involved?” he asked through a sharp smile.  “It is illegal to force a fledgling to pay a court’s punishment.”

Aoife’s even expression turned to annoyance.  “Calm down, Cujo.  I was asked to speak with both of you about this.  I’m not asking because my Queen is asking for her head.”

Karhi’s brow furrowed.  “Why?”

“It’s a sensitive matter,” she replied.  “Her Majesty wants me to speak only to you two.  And you have the right to refuse.”

Karhi blinked.

What the fuck could Hazel want so bad that she would involve Sloane?  And was willing to allow them to walk away from?

What could Hazel want from a fledgling?

Her awakening was steeped with agony.

“Carrick,” she croaked, barely keeping her call from turning into a whine.  The fentanyl had worn off, and she needed another blood whore to drink from.  The damage that bitch had done to her would take centuries to heal.  Ilona didn’t know if she would ever be without pain again.

“Hardly.”

She couldn’t see the source of the voice in the dim room.  It was out of her line of sight, and any movement she made sent waves of pain crashing through her. 

But she recognized the voice.  “You,” she hissed.

“Me,” he agreed.  He stepped into her line of sight, the faint haze of the salt lamp casting harsh shadows over him.  Tall, over six feet, with a tapered waist and broad shoulders.  His silver eyes luminesced in the low light.  Silver . . . like Karhi’s.

The heat of anger overtook the pain for a moment.  “You did this,” she hissed.

“Me?” he said, raising an eyebrow.  “You broke the Samhain covenant.”

“You didn’t tell me she had soulsilver,” she rasped.

“I didn’t know,” he shrugged.

“Liar.”

He took a step forward, baring his teeth, silver eyes turning almost white.  “I do not lie, fledgling,” he snarled.  As he moved forward, he jostled her bed.

She bit back a scream of pain, fresh as the day that bitch set her on fire.  The bits of her skin that she still had remembered the green flames as if they were alight right here and now.

“I warned you,” he hissed.  “I warned you that she was more powerful than you could imagine.  Did it even occur to you why someone like me would even be interested in her?  Or were you so wrapped up in your petty jealousy and obsession with control that you couldn’t see anything?”

“She’s a fledgling,” Ilona whispered, just barely holding back the whine that threatened to engulf her words.  “What power could she hold?”

He looked her over pointedly.  “A lot.  You learned that firsthand.”

Fury blazed, dulling the pain.  “That bitch.”

“If you had just left her alone, you’d probably be in one piece right now,” he shrugged.  He glanced up at the ceiling.  “Well, no.  Once I learned that Karhi didn’t know anything about her, and that you were useless, I was going to incinerate you anyway.  I wouldn’t have allowed you to be the one to kill Sloane Briallen.”

The fury threatened to overwhelm her, but she couldn’t do anything.  She didn’t have any muscles to control her limbs, just bone.  “Why do you care?” she hissed. 

He stepped away.  “You did this same exact thing with Elizabeth.  Tried to control her.  You didn’t learn then.  You didn’t learn now.”  He sneered.  “You’re probably going to die a slow, agonizing death because of it.”  He shook his head.  “Tyrants like you never learn.”

Her fury overtook her, and she screamed.  “What do you want?”

He shrugged.  “To save the world.”  Michael disappeared.