“And Stella will brew something that makes confession sound like a good idea,” I said, because if anyone could steep regret into a tea bag, it was our centuries-old vampire who never met a blend she couldn’t boss around.
Keegan gave me a look that warmed my knees. “We’ll keep you wrapped in circles of protection. If he steps one toe inside—”
“He’ll lose it,” I finished for him, voice level. “To us.”
“To you,” he corrected.
I averted my face so he wouldn’t see the way that sentence stitched itself into me.
I stared at the double doors. The air beyond them had that late-summer taste, like apples that weren’t quite ready and a storm that might not come.
“What if it is that simple? What if it’s always been to call him and then cut him off from what he thinks he owns?”
Keegan’s answer was a pause and then a quiet, “Predators are simple. It’s the prey that builds friend circles and tea tables and makes it complicated enough to survive.”
“You sound like your mother,” I said before I could call the words back, and then braced for the flinch.
He didn’t flinch. He just breathed out, heavy and slow.
“Maybe, there is more in common than I give credit.”
We stood there long enough for the hallway to forget we were there. Somewhere, a cart squeaked as a book sprite steered it through the stacks, humming a lullaby only the books knew.
“Okay,” I said, straightening. “We make the ground. We set the fence where we want it. We leak the right rumor and let it carry. We call him by offering him exactly what he thinks I’ll never give him.”
“Which is?”
“Me,” I said again, and the word didn’t feel like surrender. It felt like the opposite. “But on our terms.”
Keegan reached to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Every ring of that plan ends with you in the middle.”
“I’m the hinge, remember?” I tried to smile. “Doors need those.”
He made an unhappy sound that was ninety percent growl and ten percent dissertation.
“Hinges are meant to be surrounded by wood and walls, not left out for anyone’s hammer.”
“You’re the walls,” I said. “Nova’s the locks. Ardetia’s the warning bell. Stella’s the entire, terrifying HOA.”
That coaxed a reluctant huff out of him. “And Twobble?”
“The raccoon who steals the contractor’s sandwich and survives all apocalypses.”
We were still working out which metaphor had offended who when the echo of quick steps tapped down the corridor.
A moment later, Skonk came skidding around the corner like a rumor in shoes. His ears were flushed a cheery pink, his vest was missing a button, and his grin was unnervingly absent.
“Don’t panic,” he panted, which is what you say when you want everyone to panic.
He leaned both hands on his knees, sucked air like a bellows, and then shot a look at me that made my stomach drop to my shoes.
“What did you do,” I asked, “and can it be cleaned with club soda?”
He shook his head so hard his ears flapped.
“Not me. Well, me later, probably. But now…news. Reconnaissance. Intelligence.” He thumped his chest. “Espionage Skonk at your service.”
Keegan straightened, all the softness gone from his edges. “You went to Shadowick.”
