“Coriander mint?”

“No. I don’t want salad.”

Glass clinked as he shifted bottles. “Plain?”

I made a grabby hand. He brought the bottle back, and I all but pounced on it. The top was off and the bottle was empty in seconds.

“Sorry,” I said. “And thank you. I think I needed that.”

“It’s the spectral ooze,” he said, putting the bottle on the nightstand and stretching out beside me. I curled into him.

“I don’t want to hear those words ever again.”

“I don’t know if we’ll have a choice.” His voice had gone serious, which wasn’t usual for him. He was worried.

“Yeah,” I said, and patted his chest as dawn approached. “We may not have a choice. But we’ll deal with it together. We protect each other.”

We always did.

FOUR

I dreamed of grasping hands and shrieking ghouls and woke with a hard shudder, my heart pounding. The screeching was my screen, beeping an incoming call.

My body was still heavy, and I knew we were only seconds past dusk. So it didn’t surprise me to see Roger’s name on the screen.

“Roger,” I said, sitting up and, in the process, dislodging Connor, still drowsy. He grunted, pulled a pillow over his head and sleep-tousled hair.

“Any word from Rose?” I asked.

“Nothing yet,” Roger said.

“Damn,” I murmured, and Connor put a hand on my arm, just enough to remind me he was there.

“CPD found nothing on the trail confirming whether Rose had made it or, if she did, where she’d gone. Fortunately, there was no more trouble at the gate overnight. They’ve started shoring up the structure to repair it, with the hope of getting the roads open again in a couple of months.”

Traffic in Chicago was already bad, and a complete shutdown was going to be a nightmare. “I’d like to go back out there tonight, take a look at the scene.”

“I was going to suggest it,” Roger said. “I think Theo probably needs a little time.”

“I’ll go, and I’ll bring a shifter with me.” I lifted my brows in question, and Connor lowered the pillow, nodded.

That had Connor tossing away the pillow, scrubbing hands over his face. “I’ll get a shower,” he said, and climbed out of bed.

“Good plan,” Roger said. “Keep me posted.”

* * *

Destiny was payment for a debt owed, and she was beautiful. She was the gleaming Italian espresso machine Connor bought as penance for his moving into the town house—and out of his family home—without even telling me.

I was standing at the kitchen island, drinking espresso from a wee cup to prepare for the night, when Connor strolled in, hair still tousled and damp from the shower.

“You’re interrupting my date with Destiny.”

He grunted, pulled an enormous protein drink from the fridge. It looked like a slurry of backyard grass and dirt. “That joke grows staler by the night. And I still can’t believe you named a coffee machine.”