Seri’s brow furrowed and asked, “You have different levels of testicular excitement?”
The question detonated like a grenade. Koa choked on the cookie he was sneaking. My boot caught the leg of the holo table, sending shockwaves through the projection of New Jersey’s Pine Barrens. Zane howled, folding over with laughter.
“You—” He gasped, clutching his stomach. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us, moonbeam.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes sparkled like silver. The innocence in her question was pure Seri.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus.
“As I was saying, tomorrow’s reconnaissance will focus on an abandoned town that’s now a historical site. Standard protocol, standard equipment.”
I’d run the calculations. Threat assessment, risk factors, success probability. Tactically, she possessed sufficient skills for basic reconnaissance. The variable wasn’t her capability, but her trauma responses. The way she startled at fast movements or sudden noises. The nightmares that left her screaming. The moments her eyes went vacant, retreating somewhere we couldn’t follow. The flashbacks we couldn’t fight.
And beneath it all, my own paralyzing fear. That single, vivid illusion replaying whenever I contemplated her in danger. Amabel’s magic had made it so real. Seri’s broken body on the ground, blood pooling beneath her golden curls, gray eyes open and empty. Even now, weeks later, the memory could stop my breath mid-inhale, make my hands shake if I let myself dwell on it.
Logically, I knew it hadn’t been real. But logic did little to quiet the voice in my head that whispered:It could be. One mistake, one moment of carelessness, and it could be real.
The recon mission parameters scrolled behind my eyes, variables shifting. Risk assessment. Threat projection. Outcome probability.
“Seri, tomorrow,” I said, “you’ll monitor communications.”
The words tasted strange, equal parts terror and pride. The fear would never leave completely. I’d always count her breaths, measure her steps, calculate probabilities of harm. But denying her this, the right to stand beside us and fight her own battles, would be its own kind of damage.
Her head snapped up, eyes bright.
“Here in the security room,” I clarified, just in case she’dconvenientlyforgotten.
“With the holo table connected to Koko’s spy eyes.” She nodded, her smile pure sunshine. Then a thought struck her. “Simmy,” she breathed in an excited hush, “do you think I might be able to shadow walkthroughthe holo table? Like, if I see you in danger, do you think I could—”
“Do. Not. Try. It.” My voice dropped to a deadly register, and Zane’s head flew up, his sharp eyes locked on me. Koa put down his toy and moved a step closer. Blinking, I forced my shoulders down a quarter of an inch, loosened jaw, uncurled fingers. “The probability of disaster increases eighty-nine percent with untrained assets and/or untried equipment. In this case, shadow travel through holo table.”
“I mean, youareclumsy, princess.” Zane winked at Seri, fingers drumming an erratic rhythm on his thigh. “Last week you tripped overair.”
“That was aroot!” She protested with a scowl, making Brumous whine and nuzzle into her. “My shadow walking worked perfectly yesterday.”
“Accidental teleportation does not equal mission readiness,” I countered. “Additionally, we have not yet adjusted the wards to permit you to shadow walk in and out of Evermere.”
Her lips pursed, a tell that she was about to present an argument she thought was unassailable.
“But what if I’m the variable thatpreventsdisaster?”
She reached into her cardigan pocket, that moon-damned cardigan with its loose threads and snags and lumps, and produced a crumpled sketch. When had she started carrying her drawings everywhere? Another variable unaccounted for.
“The abandoned town’s layout…” She smoothed the paper on the table, fingers trembling ever so slightly. My eyes tracked the tremor. Fatigue-induced or fear? “There’s something sitting near the old grist mill. Not human.”
“Since when do you get spooky radio stations?” Koa leaned closer to study her picture, and I had to admit that the detail was remarkable, considering she’d never been to the site.
“I don’t know.” Her thumb smudged a shadow into what might’ve been tree lines. “Your briefing photos just stuck. Like old memories. Like echoes.”
My tablet hit the counter harder than intended.
“You’re synesthetically mapping paranormal resonance through two-dimensional images?”
She blinked up at me, all innocence and confusion.
“The creepy town’s been gossiping with you, darling?” Zane’s grin stretched wolf-wide. “Bleeding night! That’s a hell of a thing! Hauntography! I love it.”
“Hauntography?” Ko chuckled. “Don’t think it’s really called that.”
