“Okay,” I said slowly, thinking. “So that’s what we need to plan for, right? Protecting you from a . . . a duppy.”

“Right.” Sinclair nodded. “And in a way, I think Emmy’s right, Daisy. I’ve been running from something I can’t run from. I need to take a measure of responsibility for my own protection. I know some, but not nearly enough. I left the practice too soon. Maybe your local coven can help?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I’m sure Casimir would be delighted. He’s already got a grudge against your sister. Can you, um, do that? Just switch from one tradition to another?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Probably not entirely. But there should be enough overlap that I can continue to learn from them.”

“Good.”

An awkward silence descended between us. Where did that phrase come from? I wonder. Silence descended. Descended from where exactly? Was it hovering over us like the alien spaceship in Independence Day? Maybe it wasn’t really silence so much as it was the smothering weight of something unsaid, words we’d kept at bay, kept in the air, by talking about other things.

“So.” Sinclair broke the silence and broached the unspoken topic. “Where does this leave us?”

“Us.” Stalling, I echoed him. “As in you and me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Honestly?” I shook my head. “I don’t know, I really don’t. Yesterday morning, I was coming from what was probably the most perfect and romantic night of my life, riding across the bridge on your handlebars and feeling on top of the world, and then . . . boom.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I get that.”

I withdrew my hand from his chest. “You should have told me.”

He levered himself upright on the couch. “Daisy, I swear, if I’d had any idea Emmeline was going to show up here, I would have told you sooner. I thought we had all the time in the world.”

“I know.” I blew out my breath. “But we didn’t and we don’t. We have one month to figure out how to keep your evil twin sister from setting a duppy on you. By the way, is that four weeks or a calendar month? Because it would be helpful—”

“Emmy’s not evil.” Sinclair cut me off, then backtracked, trying to lighten the mood. “Sorry. Look, did you ever see Legend? Vintage Tom Cruise? Ridley Scott film? Without darkness, there can be no light, right?”

“Of course I saw Legend!” I shouted at him, my temper flaring unexpectedly. I’d kept it on a tight rein for too long. “And I don’t need any lectures about light and darkness! What do you think I struggle with every day? And let me tell you, evil or not, your sister isn’t making it any easier!”

The air pressure in the living room intensified at my abrupt emotional shift. Dangling scraps of half-stripped wallpaper shivered.