“Says the man who took out four automatons,” Lena shot back.

“There’s more.” Doctor Shah stared at her bottle. “You know why Lena first sought you out.”

“Sure.” I kept my voice as neutral as I could. “She was afraid you had been killed or turned, and she needed . . .”

“I needed you,” Lena said bluntly. “Especially after the death of my tree.”

I tried not to think about the branch she had grafted onto the oak out back. “Until we could reunite you and Doctor Shah.”

“Please call me Nidhi.” She forced another smile. “I think we’re well beyond titles at this point, don’t you?”

“Nidhi and I were talking about Gutenberg,” Lena said. “We had what you might call a professional disagreement.”

“Lena believes Gutenberg has narcissistic personality disorder, and may in fact be a sociopath,” Nidhi said calmly. “Whereas I believe the DSM-IV wasn’t written to diagnose six-hundred-year-old sorcerers.”

I stared. “You’re asking me to settle a debate about mental disorders?”

“We fought.” Lena was arranging her remaining candies in a single meandering line.

“It happens. You’ve had a rough few days.” Nidhi was the therapist, not me. “People fight.”

“Not like this,” Lena said softly. “Not me.”

“Lena adapts to the personality of her lover.” Nidhi wiped condensation from the neck of her bottle. “After losing both me and her tree, Lena spent an entire week with you.”

My stomach did a somersault. “I don’t understand.”

“She loves you.” There were so many conflicting emotions in those three words I couldn’t begin to untangle them all.

“I . . . I know.” I winced as soon as I said it. Han Solo could say that and be awesome. I just felt like a dork. “But it was one week. She loves you more.”

“I’m right here,” Lena said, flicking a candy at me. “It’s not a competition. And I love you both.”

I could translate ancient texts in a half-dozen languages, but the more I tried to follow this conversation, the more lost I became.

“I’ve never been my own person. I never will be.” Lena spoke flatly, without resentment. “But fighting with my lover like that . . . it was something new. Something that happened because of you.”

“You’re blaming me for—”

“Shut up, Isaac.” Lena stood up. “I’m thanking you, dumbass.”

I looked at Nidhi, hoping she would throw me a lifeline, but she merely took another drink from her beer.

“You’re welcome?” I said weakly.

Lena ignored me, which was probably for the best. “With Frank Dearing, then with Nidhi . . . I didn’t know what I was or why my feelings changed until much later. I’ve never had a choice before.”