“Symbols carved into the walls appear to be centuries old. We can’t dismiss this as a meaningless joke or devil worship. This is very real and only the beginning if we don’t join forces with the greater powers and learn how to fight this together.”
My spine stiffened. Surely, my grandmother hadn’t influenced this professor? Who was I kidding? She was always two steps ahead. Positioning someone in authority on the occult to align with her was not only smart, it was necessary.
The picture cut to a live video of the markings, and my stomach tightened. Those markings, thoserunes,were far too familiar. I set my mug down, eyes glued to the screen.
The camera zoomed in on the sigils burned into concrete, with their sharp, perfect lines. Eloise’s craftsmanship. “Those are Roberts runes,” I murmured. “She’s experimenting again.”
Harry frowned. “Experimenting with what?”
“Soul binding.” The words tasted like ash. Soul binding was forbidden. You had to bargain with the soul at the point of death, guiding it into yourself instead of the light. It was viewed as a crime against Heaven and Hell. She was desperate. I didn’t know whether to be happy or panicked that she was running out of options.
The ghosts whispered among themselves, voices rippling through the air like static. Even the naked couple stopped bickering.
A knock broke the silence. A polite, firm, three-tap rhythm. Had the wards warned me? Maybe. Perhaps I’d become blind to it with all the comings and goings lately.
Maggie jumped, nearly dropping her muffins of mass destruction. Pity for shifter reflexes.
“I’ll get it,” I muttered, pushing up from the couch. Bella followed, tail high, ready to protect—or mock me—depending on her mood. She was oddly clingy.
I opened the door to find a woman standing on the porch, framed by sunlight. Mid-forties, sharp gray suit, calm smile, and shrewd hazel eyes. “Dr. Elara Thorne,” she said, offering a business card embossed with faintly pulsing sigils. “Your family thought it might be healthy to talk.”
I growled low as I read her title. “My family hired a therapist for me? I’m sorry, it’s not a good time on account of the world going to shit. I’ll get back to you when everyone stops trying to kill or rule each other.”
“On the contrary,” she said with a small, sure smile. “This is the perfect time.”
Dave jogged up the stairs behind her and assessed her in two seconds. “Who are you?”
“A shrink. Apparently, everyone thinks I need one.”
Dave shook his head. “I vetoed this idea. Bottling up that fury and letting it loose against your enemies is better than seeing a shrink. It would be such a waste.”
I squeezed my eyes closed. He had just pointed out why this was a good idea. Excellent reverse psychology from the pack’s chief of security.
“Therapist,” Elara corrected.
Harry poked his head around me. “Oh, you’re here already? We haven’t spoken to Cora about it yet.”
“We decided against warning her,” Rebecca said from behind me. They were all in on it.
Bella twined around Elara’s ankles.Traitor.
“How about this? You give me sixty minutes of your time, and if I can’t convince you that therapy is beneficial for you right now, we can put a pin in it until you’re ready.”
I sighed and stepped back. It would take less time to hear her out than to fight everyone who had made this decision. “You'd best come in.”
“Muffin?” Maggie said as she bounced toward Elara.
Elara’s nose twitched. “It’s against policy to take food and drink offered at a client’s home.”
True.
Maggie’s shoulders deflated. Elara, proving she had a heart, pinched one between her fingers and winked at Maggie. “But I can’t resist a homemade muffin.”
Well, if all else failed, the home baking would be her demise.
She glanced at the TV and scowled. So she knew about this latest disaster, but was she aware my grandmother was responsible?
We moved to my office, the smell of burned pumpkin following us down the hall. Elara took the seat opposite me, legs crossed neatly.
