“You’re cutting it too fine,” Mama Ami said. “One more minute and I would have stepped in. There’s no rush, darling girl.”

I dutifully chugged my orange juice and tossed the pills back. “He’s suffered trauma. And with his early age and lack of control, the sooner they’re bonded, the better.”

Once he was bonded with Trick, he’d be able to lend some of his control over fire to Dammit, making the fledgling less likely to set random things ablaze. It would also be easier for Trick to step in to the role that Dammit’s parents would usually occupy, showing him how to harness his own magic. All of that was necessary and helpful, but even more than that? I wanted to heal all that loss for Dammit—give him back a parent. Give him back his family, even if it looked different now.

Mama Ami took my empty glass, her face sympathetic but implacable. “There’s always something, Loulou.” She stood and took the glass to the break room, filled it with water, and came back. “Creatures and humans rarely come with a past full of sunshine and rainbows. That doesn’t change how we do our job. You’re no good to them if you collapse. Work hard, yes, but also smart. Give them time to adjust, too. The bonding of a familiar is no small thing.”

“I know.” I probably sounded like a huffy teenager. Bay’s mom might as well have been my own, and sometimes it was hard not to fall into old roles.

“You have a good heart,” she said, shoving her chair back into one of the exam rooms. We got up and followed suit. “That’s a wonderful thing, but don’t let it get you into trouble.” She shooed us with her hands. “Now get going. Bjorn has dinner waiting for me.” She fished her keys out of her pockets. “You both should come over. We’ll feed you. Unless Declan is cooking tonight?”

My family wasn’t happy until everyone was fed. That was a fact. I was about to agree when Trick’s phone chimed. He glanced at it and grinned. “We’ll have to raincheck on that, Dr. Larsen. We do have dinner waiting for us, and apparently we’re late.”

Trick showed me a text that had so many grumpy face emojis. “How can he be mad at us for being late if he didn’t give us a time?” Maybe I was being an ungrateful jerk, but magic depletion always made me surly.

Trick wasn’t upset at all. He was practically doing a jig, which was a sight. Black clothes, boots, eyeliner, fitted black jacket, a baby carrier on his chest, and a grin fit to split his face.

“I thought goths were supposed to be full of darkness,” I groused.

“I contain multitudes,” Trick said, tapping away on his phone. “This is good news, Lou. He’s definitely making us his pack.” He scowled at his screen. “Damn it.” His phoenix chirped happily at him. “No, not you. My phone just died.”