“Hey, I didn’t want to make it a big deal,” he said. “With everything that’s going on, I thought …” He scratched at his chin and let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t know what I was thinking, actually. You just seem cool. Bullshit-free, if that makes sense.”

I rubbed my clammy hands on my jeans. “I guess it does.”

If I got to know him better, I could make sure he was protected from the Mazikin, who would almost certainly come after him. Young guy. Strong. With resources. Embedded deeply in Aden’s memories. The Mazikin probably knew all about Ian.

I smiled at him. “And yeah, we can hang out. I’d like that.” And this time, I realized, I wasn’t lying.

We exchanged numbers but didn’t make any plans. I told him I would be at the wake and the funeral, and he gave me a brave smile and said he’d see me there.

I drove to the Guard house in a fog. The sleep deprivation was catching up with me. I couldn’t go on like this forever, and neither could the other Guards. We were all human, after all, and our bodies were frail. None of us would be able to make good decisions or fight well if we tried to subsist on two hours of sleep a night. The only time I got any rest these days was when Raphael put me under so that he could heal me.

I didn’t bother knocking when I got to the Guard house, just walked in, only to find all three of them waiting for me in the entryway, their arms crossed over their chests. I laughed. “Hey guys. Is this an intervention? Do you have a therapist tucked away in the corner?”

Identical looks of puzzlement crossed their very different facial features. “You said you would brief us,” Malachi said solemnly.

Henry’s eyes were locked on my boots as he spoke. “I wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself before I took my concerns elsewhere.”

I stalked into the parlor and sat down. “You mean before you call Raphael in here. What do you think he’s going to do? Demote me? At this moment, Henry, that sounds fucking awesome.”

Henry took a seat across from me. “Last night. You were talking to the wild-haired Mazikin. It didn’t look like you were trying to capture her.”

“Sorry, my arm was kind of shattered at the time,” I snapped.

“Which was why I shot at her,” growled Henry. “I was trying to protect you.”

I looked away from him, and my gaze landed on Jim, who was still in the entryway, watching us warily. “See, Jim?” I called. “I’m a screwup, too. We should start a club.”