The explanation she hinted at wanting but wouldn’t ask for outright caused the conversation to peter out into an awkward quiet. Her silent demand for an explanation had me digging in my heels. The conclave didn’t own me. I was an employee who performed services for pay, not an indentured servant who had to snap to attention and report on command.

“We have a survivor,” Vause announced in a cool, clear voice.

“Are you certain she escaped Charybdis?” I pressed the speaker tighter against my ear. “The victim in Wink was just a boy in the wrong place at the wrong time. He wasn’t one of ours.”

“The certainty is yours to determine. I wouldn’t dream of doing your job for you.” A prim response. “You will have to visit the girl and get the answers we both require.”

Residual imprints faded fast on a living person. As they recovered, the resurgence of their own magic wiped away any foreign signatures. “How reliable is she?”

“The girl is ten. Elizabeth McKenna.” Leather creaked on her end. “I want you to talk to her.”

“Sure.” My heart pounded faster. “Where?”

“The incident occurred in Falco, Alabama. We’ll need a diver. Bring Harlow with you.” Metal groaned as though she were reclining in a desk chair. “And, Camille? When I say I want you to speak with her, I mean I want Lori.”

Lori.

Harlow’s phone slid through my limp fingers. Only her quick reflexes kept it from clattering on the tiles. She ended the call with Vause. I didn’t have the stomach left for pleasantries.

Graeson straightened, arms hanging loose as if ready to catch me should my knees buckle. “What’s happened?”

Head light as a balloon ready to float off my shoulders, I shut my eyes and let the pain wash over me. Nothing could dam the swell of hurt, and I wasn’t fool enough to try. Better to weather the surge now than fight to keep my head above water later.

“Cam?”

“Pack a bag.” I opened my eyes, held Harlow’s wary gaze. “We leave in a half hour.”

A sharp nod, a hardening of her jaw, and she dashed toward the elevators.

I should have called out, asked her to hold the door for me so I could join her, but instead I nodded to Thierry—deep in conversation about the logistics of humane igel removal—and exited the building. Beneath a heavy moon, I stood as a speck on the sidewalk of no significance to the celestial bodies twinkling above me and found my center. The glitter of stars was proof the dark blanket of my grief did not encompass the world, and I could not allow it to envelope me.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The unwelcome interruption growled over my shoulder splintered the moment of clarity almost within my reach. “I should pack my things.”