“Is that one going to the kitchen?” Caleb asked, bending over.
“It is. Bless you, wolf.”
My dad walked in from the kitchen, and we all heard a crunch. Twobble squealed, and I gasped.
Twobble rushed over as my dad bent over and lifted his foot.
“She’s not sparkling any longer,” Twobble sobbed.
My dad scowled, grabbing a tissue from his pocket. “Who’s not sparkling? That’s a sugar cube.”
Twobble clutched his heart, and Keegan snickered as my dad looked over at us.
“She’s not…she’s not gone?” Twobble stared at the granules of sugar, pressed his finger to them, and licked. “Not Cindy.”
“What in the world is going on?” my dad asked while Twobble tried to compose himself.
“We’ve got Gideon out front and Twobble lost Cindy,” I explained.
“The snail is in the kitchen on the bay plant,” my dad told Twobble, who looked like he was ready to collapse, and had I not had more pressing matters out front, I would have hugged him.
Keegan’s eyes stayed on mine a beat longer than necessary, and I felt that familiar, traitorous flutter in my chest. Even in dark times, we somehow manage to find the light. All of us.
“For the record, I’m not cornering him,” Keegan said quietly. “But I’m guarding you.”
“What are you talking about?” my dad asked, glancing at Keegan and then at me. “You’re not thinking about waltzing out to meet Gideon.”
“I am. He might know something about mom.”
“Since I know you’ll go regardless of my two cents, I’m coming with you.” He smiled, and I felt a little tightness loosen in my chest.
“Okay, now or never,” Caleb said as I walked over to the door.
Caleb glanced toward the wolves holding the Ward line. He lifted a hand in a small signal.
The pack adjusted.
No one broke formation. They simply shifted where they stood. One wolf padded closer to the porch while another moved toward the trees, narrowing the space between them.
There was no sound or hesitation, just the quiet certainty of wolves who had done this many times before. I stepped outside and felt the chill of the early morning air while the sun still chose to sleep.
Above us, Karvey shifted his weight on the roof. Stone scraped softly against the shingles before his voice rolled down into the night, low and rough like an old bell.
“Don’t step beyond the Ward without telling me first,” he rumbled.
“Okay.” I nodded.
“You can’t see what I see when you’re down there,” he replied. His voice carried no humor now. “If the shadows move, I’ll know.”
That was oddly reassuring.
Gargoyles on the roof were not the worst guardians to have.
Behind me, the cottage door creaked open. Warm light spilled across the porch and into the yard, softening the darkness just enough that the place felt like a home again instead of a battlefield.
Twobble appeared first, of course he did, wrapped in something that looked suspiciously like one of my blankets and clutching a lantern as if he’d been appointed official nighttime supervisor. Cindy was back on his shoulder, and his eyes were wide, his face pale beneath the lamplight.
Twobble’s gaze landed on the cloaked figure at the edge of the yard, and his words died in his throat.
