“Lovely.” I blink, trying to clear the sunspots dancing in my vision.
She sets that aside and produces a mini first aid kit, placing it on my lap like it’s sacred. “Bandages, antiseptic wipes, gauze long enough to hog-tie a demon. Don’t waste it on splinters, though. That’s what the duct tape is for.”
Which, of course, comes next, slapped onto the bed with a flourish like it’s her trump card.
And then—because it’s Iris—she digs out a handful of tiny white squares and drops them into my lap. “These can ward off demons or season your fries. Versatility is key.”
I gape at her, tilting my head. “Are those…fast food salt packets?”
“Never underestimate processed foods, darling,” she sniffs. “They can poison supernaturals just as well as the humans.”
Before I can recover, she whips out a bright red whistle shaped like a cardinal bird and blows it with enough force to rupture an eardrum. The sound is less of a “helpful call for aid” and more “air-raid siren.” My ears are still ringing when she grins. “This will summon help in times of peril. Or birds. Possibly both. Either way, you won’t be alone.”
I drag a hand over my face. “I cannot believe this is my life.”
“Oh, we’re not done.” Iris dives into the smallest pocket and pulls out a tiny jar of glitter, holding it aloft as if it’s a holy relic. She shakes it, and the colorful bits catch the light. “Because everything’s better with sparkle. Toss it in an enemy’s eyes and not only will they be blind, but they’ll also die fabulous.”
A groan rips out of me. “You know I’m never going to wear this, right?”
“We’ll see about that,” Iris singsongs, standing up to cram everything back into the bag. She clips it around her own waist with a dramatic spin, like a pageant contestant showing off her crown. “For now, it stays with me. But mark my words, Rowan Prescott, there will come a time when you’ll thank me for this fanny pack. And when you do, I expect tears of gratitude.”
Without waiting for a response, she sweeps up the discarded muumuu from the chair, drapes it over one shoulder like a royal cape, and struts from the room with the air of a woman who just saved the world.
Archie chooses that moment to come skittering out of the closet, his eyes half-lidded, fur sticking out at odd angles. “I think that whistle can do more than call for help,” he mutters, sounding deeply unimpressed and a bit broken.
I scoop him up, stroking the length of his back until his twitching quiets. “Do you need me to get you anything?”
He shakes his fuzzy head, nose wrinkling. “Just some quiet without that insane woman in the room. My ears are still ringing.”
“Deal.” I set him down gently on the pillow at the top of the bed. He curls up instantly, the weight of the last few hours finally dragging him under.
When I turn, Liz’s still there, leaning against the side table near the door. Her expression is taut—brows drawn, lips pressed flat. The kind of look that saysbad news incoming. Cade wore the same one earlier, and my stomach twists.
With a resigned sag of my shoulders, I motion toward the balcony, wanting to give Archie his quiet time.
She doesn’t waste a moment. Pulling the doors open, she steps out first, scanning the dark stretch of trees before waving me after her. I slip into the cool night air, and the contrast between the fresh pine and lingering traces of Iris’s perfume in my room almost makes me laugh.
Liz doesn’t sit. She stays standing, posture rigid, as if ready to fight the shadows themselves. “We have a problem.”
I flop into the cushioned chair, my limbs heavy. “When don’t we?”
Her gaze flicks to mine, then back toward the forest. “The council has made a decision. Hybrids can now be hunted.”
The words slam into me, and for a second all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears, but then I pick up on one tiny detail that I can’t ignore.
“You saidhybrids.With an S.” That one little letter shouldn’t give me hope, but it does. “So, what? There’s more of me out there? Some prophecy fan club I didn’t know I joined?”
Her frown deepens. “No. As far as we know, you’re the only hybrid made of Hollowborn and wolf shifter blood. The others…” She exhales slowly, like she’s trying to keep the weight of it off my shoulders. “They’re crossbreeds between supernatural lines. But the council doesn’t care about the difference right now.”
“Why would they declare war on their own?” My voice rises before I can rein it back because what I really want to know is…Why me? Why now? Why is all of this happening?
“This is as much about you as it is about sending a message.” Liz finally crouches in front of me, her sharp eyes locking onto mine. “They want purity. They want fear. And you—Rowan—you’re the perfect reason to trigger the war. The wolf council is trying to rally every faction behind them, and you’re the common enemy they’ve been waiting for to do so.”
My chest is so tight it hurts enough that I rub my knuckles on the spot.Of course, it’s me.
“So, what now?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend. “Do I play house here, or do I hide somewhere else until this all blows over?”
“Iris still believes you’re safe within NightShade.” Liz’s voice softens slightly, but I catch the edge underneath. “She wants you trained and prepared. This manor has defenses no other place does, and she’s not wrong about that.”
