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“You don’t have enough meat to make you worth eating,” I point out.

If his expression is anything to go by, apparently, that doesn’t reassure him. “I’m glad you’ve sized me up for that.” He plants his hands on his hips and stalks closer to where I’m fixing the salt line on the windowsill. “What are you doing?”

“My monthly protection audit.”

“Protection … it’s salt.”

“Yes.”

“What exactly is that protecting them from?”

Grace’s older brother, JJ, walks out the front door and answers before I can. “Demons.”

“Demons?” Sasha looks from me to JJ like he’s waiting for the joke.

“Not only demons,” I correct. “Evil spirits and negative energy too.”

“And you think … salt … does that.”

I’ve run into plenty of people who think the same way Sasha does. Wilde is one of them. The first and only time I attempted to salt his house, he washed it off and told me to keep away from his property. So I have. Mostly. It didn’t stop me from ringing his place with bottle trees. Rooney might have everyone else in the End fooled, but I know what he is, and as nice and friendly as he might be now, I heard how quickly fae can change.

“Are you one of those swirly, hippy, spiritual people?” Sasha asks. “Because I never would have picked that in a million years.”

“There’s nothing swirly about what Lynx does,” Grace says. And I appreciate the backup, but I don’t need it. I sleep easier at night knowing that my people are protected, and no amount of scoffing or cynicism is going to change that. Maybe if I’d known about all this sooner⁠—

“You can’t really think this works.” Sasha looks between the three of us, and when he gets nothing from any of us, he turns to Bob for support. “You’re on my side, aren’t you? There’s no such thing as demons.”

Bob’s fur bristles unpleasantly, and he backs away.

“Looks like you’re on your own,” I say.

Sasha sighs. “I wish I could save you all from this messed-up place.”

Considering he couldn’t even save himself, I don’t like his chances.

Once the salt is done, I move on to check that the bottle tree is intact. Each of the deep blue bottles is exactly where I left them, which is a relief, because I hate having to go to Rooney for more.

“Let’s move on,” I call back over my shoulder, but don’t bother waiting for Bob and Sasha to join me. Firstly, because Bob can do what he wants, but secondly, because Sasha doesn’t know the forest well enough to risk being caught out here on his own.

He catches up and follows me along trails in silence. It’s peaceful, and I’d be able to completely forget he was here if I weren’t on high alert for danger. It’s as natural to me as breathing, and that instinct is even deeper when I’m not alone.

“So …” Sasha says, breaking his silence. “You really believe in all that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“No offense, but why? You don’t strike me as the type to believe in ghost stories.”

I pause, looking up and up and up to the branches and leaf coverage overhead. Tiny bits of sky poke through the dark green, but mostly, this deep into the forest is hidden from the rest of the world.

“I grew up in a forest older than this one.”

“Okay …”

“You learn to respect the fact that not everything is what it seems. The forest hides secrets and magic older than anything people are conscious of. It’s impossible to know what else is out there. What might be lurking.” I turn and make sudden eye contact with him. “You mind yourself and don’t disrupt things that aren’t your business. Stay inside at night. Ignore if you hear a child cry. Trust your instincts and not your eyes. And never, ever respond if you hear someone whistle.”

“But … you and the kids whistle at each other.”

“All the more reason.”