“Peachy,” he said. “Solitary confinement with vampire supervision is really healthy. You know, exercise, good diet, self-improvement. It’s like a spa, but with teeth.”

I glanced involuntarily at the guns, and when I moved my gaze back he was still smiling, but differently. It looked like someone had moved his lips and stuck them in that position, not that he found any real humor in things. “Ironic,” he said. “Yeah? Me and the gun duty? But somebody’s got to be making the shells, and vamps can’t handle the silver very well. I can do it twice as fast, without burns. Like I said, they’re practical.” He poured some more silver shot into a shell casing, and jammed it in the press. “So. I heard you two are getting married. I think my invitation got lost in the jailhouse mail.”

He was different, yet again, from the last time I’d seen him. He’d been trying, for a while—trying to be a better guy, a real person. And he’d been winning at it, until … well, I didn’t really know what had happened. Drugs, probably. Jason was always looking for a new high, mostly to avoid facing his own crappy past. He’d blown past alcohol by eleven; by thirteen, he’d been dealing to classmates and staying high most of the time. It hadn’t made him nicer. By the time I’d turned eighteen he’d already gotten too comfortable with weapons. Shane had a scar to prove it. I was lucky I didn’t, since I’d been the one he was really after.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” I said. “Or, you know, be out of jail.”

“Surprise. And why wouldn’t I want to come? You need somebody to give you away, sis. I always wanted to do that.” There was that creepy, empty smile again. Something had broken inside my brother. It had always been cracked, deeply, but now it was just … shattered. And I didn’t know why, or what had happened to him, but whatever it was, it had left him feral and angry. “Guess that makes me a Glass by marriage. I always wanted a brother.”

“Let’s not get all Cain and Abel about it,” I said. “You really don’t want to go there, Jase.”

“Cain was the killer,” Jason said. “Which one of us gets to play the victim?”

Oh, Jason. I felt a tiny shiver ladder up my spine. My sweet, kind, rocker boyfriend had swallowed more darkness than my brother, and even though he kept it pushed way, way down, it was there when he needed it. He didn’t let it rule him, but he could put it on a leash and make it work for him. It was pretty obvious to me, in that moment, who’d win that fight, whatever Jason might think. “Let it go,” I said. “Trust me.”

He laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “That’ll happen soon. You pimped me out, and then you sold me out. Not exactly a rock-solid basis for trust.”