Tash's phone pinged, a sharp, unexpected jolt in the quiet. She checked the screen, fingers trembling just a little. Her lips twitched at the message.
"Gerty wants to talk," she announced, then added, "Apparently, she's doesn't like secrets and not being involved in midnight moves. We'll need a story. Beth's here for just Christmas, but Gerty has a stalker she's hiding from."
Maeve's face went flat, then pinched. Like the idea of a stalker coming here was personal.
Fifi perked up. "Is she ranting? She gets pretty funny then."
"Yes, she is," Tash said drily as texts pinged in.
I locked eyes with Tash. "I'll get to work on the rental tomorrow. Reinforced locks, sensors on the side windows, maybe motion lights in the trees. But you're the one who has to sell her the story."
She didn't argue.
If anything, she looked at me as though I'd read her mind.
Mom came back in. "I'll help. The landlord won'tcare as long as nothing gets broken. Maeve, can you prep a basic ward for the entry?"
"Easy," Maeve said. "I'll bring over supplies in the morning."
I mentally mapped out the property as I'd seen it when I helped Tash pack. Entry, weak. Back door, flimsy, cheap, could bust it with a bad attitude. Side windows, old latches, no deadbolts, no privacy film.
Not anymore.
I'd finish fixing it before sunset tomorrow if I had to.
The girls didn't notice. It was late enough they'd begun to droop. They were deep in a world of cocoa and dragon talk.
Fifi spun the charm, then laid her head on Mere's shoulder, exhaustion melting down all the sarcasm.
Maeve started cleaning up the mess of thread and salt, packing each piece carefully into a tin. "If you ever need me, just text. I'll show up with a baseball bat and a pie."
Fifi opened her eyes. "What kind of pie?"
"Depends on what the emergency is. For stalkers, probably bourbon pecan. For garden-variety evil, banana cream. Off to bed with you two. The couch will give you a crick in your neck."
"Maeve's right," Tash said. "Go to bed."
I watched the girls wander out, then looked at Tash, her mouth twisted somewhere between a smile and a grimace.
"You okay?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm better than I was two hours ago, so there's that."
That was enough for now.
Epilogue: Tash
Several weeks later
The kitchen smelled like home. I leaned into the window, arms crossed, and feet braced on the tile, just to remind myself that yes, this was real. Chance's kitchen, warm as a bakery at six in the morning, golden light slanting off the pine cabinets. Everything was greening up outside with a false spring, but the real show was happening in the clearing.
Fifi was airborne in a smooth, deliberate flight, corkscrewing up above the tree line, wings catching every blast of sunlight, then cutting a brutal s-turn and shooting toward the yard. The wind barely kept up. She tucked the landing, legs bowed, tail swinging forbalance, and came down so softly she barely dented the grass.
My kid. Fifi. A dragon, full throttle, with a toothy smile I could see from the damn kitchen.
I pressed a fist to my mouth, happiness bubbling within.
To the right, on the stone patio, Mere was queen of her own universe. She'd drawn out a neat circle in white powder, probably salt and something smelly from Maeve's stash, and sat cross-legged, hands cupped over a flicker of flame. Not just any flame, either. She snapped her fingers, and the color shifted, blue, then green, then a wild pink.
