“This isn’t the field. It’s my son’s home. And all I need from you is...” I scowled and looked away. “I just didn’t want to do this alone.”
He puffed up a little at that. “You have my axe.”
I stared. “You have an axe under there?”
“Figure of speech. FromLord of the Rings?” He sighed. “Jenny would have gotten it. The point is, I’m here for you. I’ve got your back, Ms. Thorne.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I said. “I would have brought Jenny, but I need her keeping an eye on Temple and Sage and that freaky cat.”
Morgan’s door was locked, but it was a simple button lock. A paperclip in the hole would pop it. Or I could just break the damned thing if it came to that. I was more than strong enough to punch through a hollow-core door.
Instead, I knocked lightly. “Morgan? It’s Grandma Thorne.”
“Go away.” His voice was deeper than usual, with a phlegmy gargle to it. He sounded strained, like he was having to force his mouth to form the words.
“Let me guess,” I said. “More side effects from Alex’s pills?”
“Don’t come in.”
I leaned against the door. “I know you’re scared and confused—”
“Oh my God, Grandma. Don’t try to act like you know how I feel.”
“You think you’re the only one who ever trusted the wrong person and came away with the magical clap?”
“Gross. I’m not...This isn’t...You just don’t get it.”
“I love you dearly, mon petit fils, and I’m trying to be patient, so shut up and listen. I married my first husband when I was eighteen. He was six hundred. Your great-grandmother warned me, but I was stupid in love. I was also careless. A month in, I contracted vampirism. He gave me the HV-5 strain, if you’re curious.”
Morgan groaned. “This is so far past TMI.”
“I will rip this door off its hinges and drag you out by your ear if you keep interrupting.” I waited a beat to make sure he’d gotten the message. “The infection never fully turned me. I had my bloodline to thank for that. But there were side effects. Changes I couldn’t control. For a year or so, before I got the disease under control...I did things I can never take back. I hurt people. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You’re a demonanda vampire?”
“No. Well, technically yes, but the vampirism is in long-term remission. I take pills every morning and evening to suppress the cravings and the predatory impulses, and to keep my iron levels up.” This wasn’t the conversation I’d expected to have with my grandson this morning. Or ever. “The point is, I fucked up. I made mistakes that will stay with me to the day I die.”
Silence stretched for a full minute before he said, “I can’t believe my grandmother’s a vampire. Or that she said ‘fucked.’”
“Watch your language.”
“I get what you’re trying to say. I know what Noah and his friends did to you, and I’m sorry. ButIhaven’t hurt anyone.”
“Tell me about the shelf cards at the shop.”
He hesitated before answering. “The last one I did was ‘Five Series That Are Better than Harry Potter.’ I talked about Le Guin and Duane and Pratchett and—”
“Morgan Kay Davis, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He huffed. “It’s just a blessing Mr. Barclay taught me. Like a good luck charm.”
Oh, you sweet, summer dumbass.“And did Mr. Barclay suggest you put it throughout the bookstore?”
Doubt crept into his voice. “He told me it would boost sales.”
“Let me catch you up with events in the world,” I said. “Sage Parker tried to set the shop on fire last night. Normally, Temple’s magic would have protected it, but it turns outsomethinghas been weakening that magic from inside for several months.”
“Oh, shit,” he whispered. “Is everyone all right?”
