“Well, this is going to get ugly early,” Beau mused. “I should like to go next. Louise, darling”—he flashed me a charming smile—“truth or dare? And please pick truth.”

I rolled my eyes. “Truth.”

He gave a feline grin. “Who is the most attractive person here? Be honest, mind you, or it’s two drinks.”

Winking lewdly, I extended my entire arm toward Reid, condemning him with a finger. “That man there. The copper-haired fellow. He’s the one.”

Reid scowled and interrupted immediately. “My turn. Lou, what is your deepest fear?”

“You didn’t ask truth or dare,” I pointed out.

His scowl deepened. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to answer my question.”

I chuckled and sat back, crossing my feet at the ankles. Unexpectedly quick. Still, his question itself left much to be desired. Of course he’d try to weaponize a game. Of course he’d press every advantage to weaken me. Well, tough shit, buddy. “It used to be death,” I said conversationally, “but a quick chat with our dear friend Ansel changed that. He’s thriving, by the way.” All three of the men stared at me with slack jaws. Beau in particular seemed to blanch. “He spoke with me in L’Eau Mélancolique. He’d been following us the entire time, you know—”

“What?” Beau asked incredulously. “How?”

“He was a white dog.”

“Oh, good Lord.” Beau fell back against the quilt, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You mean the white dog? I thought he was an ill omen.” At my snort, he exclaimed, “He was always there when calamity struck!”

“Probably to warn you.”

“I didn’t realize that he’d—I haven’t seen him since—” He swallowed hard. “What happened to him?”

“He found peace.” The room fell silent at my gentle words, and I stared intently at my hands, knitting them together in my lap. “But he also made me realize I don’t fear death at all. Or at least, it isn’t the dying itself that I fear. It isn’t the pain. It’s the parting with my loved ones forever.” I looked up. “But I’ll see him again. We all will.”

Reid looked as though I’d struck him across the face. He remembered Ansel too, then, if only as an initiate. He remembered his death. Perhaps he just hadn’t expected I would mourn, that I’d be capable of such deep feeling for another person—me, a witch. I cleared my throat. “I believe it’s your turn, Jean Luc.”

He immediately looked to Beau. “Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“Did Célie mention me on your travels?”

“Yes.” He turned to Reid without expounding on the answer, despite Jean Luc’s vehement protests. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

Another grin. This one harder. “I dare you to magic that copper hair blue.”

Reid’s face flushed puce. “I can’t—how dare you—”