"Your heart's going faster than mine."
"You almost died. My heart gets to do whatever it wants."
A sharp, familiar presence brushed against her magical awareness. Raven materialized from behind a crystal column—fur bristling, green eyes enormous, trailing wisps of portal energy that suggested she'd clawed her way between dimensions through sheer force of will.
You absolute reckless idiots.The telepathic broadcast hit Hazel like a slap wrapped in velvet.I felt your heartbeat stop from three dimensions away. Do you have any idea?—
Raven stopped. Sat. Looked at their joined hands, at the golden light threading between them, at the synchronized pulse visible in the warm glow.
Oh.A pause.Well. Finally.
"Raven—"
Don't.The cat's mental voice had gone uncharacteristically soft.I've been watching you two orbit each other like binary stars afraid of collision. This is better. This is what I've been trying to tell you.
Mrs. Shufflewick peeled back Nate's collar, examining the shoulder wound. The black veins had faded to faint grey traces. "Remarkable recovery rate. I'd publish a paper if interdimensional medical journals accepted submissions from involuntary channelers."
Nate pushed himself up on one elbow. Hazel's hand moved to his back—steadying, not letting go.
"We have work to finish."
"We have more than work now."
The words hung in the crystal air. Nate looked at her. Really looked. Not the investigator's analytical scan, not the careful professional distance he'd maintained since day one. Something behind his green eyes gave way like a dam that had been holding back a river it was never built to contain.
"Yeah." He reached up. Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers trembled—residual toxin or emotion, impossible to tell. "We do."
Raven groomed one paw with aggressive nonchalance.If you two kiss right now, I'm leaving. I navigated hostile dimensional barriers to save your lives, not witness the inevitable.
They didn't kiss. But Hazel leaned her forehead against his, and the golden light between them bloomed until the entire crystal tower sang with it—a single clear note, the sound of two frequencies finding harmony.
Mrs. Shufflewick removed imaginary spectacles and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief that changed pattern three times. "Patient discharged. Prognosis: excellent."
9
JUST THE TWO OF US
The apartment smelled like lavender and rosemary and the particular kind of quiet that follows catastrophe. Hazel stood at her kitchen counter, pouring hot water into her grandmother's teacup with hands that still carried faint traces of golden light beneath the skin. Every few seconds, a sparkle would pulse through her fingertips and vanish.
Three hours since the portal realm. Two hours since Mrs. Shufflewick had been tucked into a cab, still cycling through medical robes. One hour since Hazel had changed out of her singed cardigan and into a soft grey sweater that didn't smell like interdimensional frost toxin.
Nate sat on her sage-green sofa, shoulder bandaged with both mundane gauze and a poultice Raven had grudgingly assembled from the kitchen herb stores. He held his own teacup—the one with the chipped handle that Hazel kept meaning to repair—and stared into it like the chamomile might reveal The Collector's home address.
Raven occupied the armchair opposite him. Watching. Tail curled around her paws in the posture Hazel recognized asevaluating prey.
"Your color's better," Hazel said, settling onto the cushion beside him. Not touching. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin, the low thrum of their shared magic humming in the space between their arms.
"Your tea helped." He set the cup down on the reclaimed barn wood table. Picked it up. Set it down again, then ran his hand through his hair. "Hazel."
"Nate."
"I'm terrible at this."
"At what?"
He turned toward her. The investigator mask was gone—no careful neutrality, no professional assessment. Just Nate, with his sharp green eyes and his tousled dark blonde hair and the small scar on his jaw she'd never noticed until the portal realm's light caught it just right.
"I know we're magically bound partners. I know there's a prophecy and a grimoire and an ancient threat that requires our combined abilities." He paused. Swallowed. "But would you like to have dinner with me? Not because of prophecy or grimoires. Just because I want to spend time with you."
