She’d been pleasantly surprised when she’d mentioned going out to the rift over the morning coffee she’d taken to sharing with Zed on her back porch before either of them started their days. Rather than trying to convince Dani that she wasn’t ready, Zed told her he’d brought a hiking pack for just such an occasion and he would gladly escort her to the site. She might have objected on principle, but Jillian had mentioned passing out, so she didn’t want to take a stupid risk based on pride.

True to its name, Afarpiece Swamp was on the opposite side of the bayou from the maison de fous. The forest floor was carpeted with a thick layer of soft moss. Cypress and pine trees grew taller here than any spot Dani had seen anywhere in Louisiana. Honeysuckle blossoms the size of church bells hung from the trees, their scent so thick it almost felt unpleasant. Dani noted that the noises she normally associated with the swamp—the call of birds, chittering from small animals, splashing from underwater predators claiming a meal—were all pointedly absent. Nothing lived here but the plants. No animal could stand the constant pulse of energy from the rift.

Frankly, Dani was starting to feel a little unnerved by it. Like hauntings, each rift had its own personality. Some were angry, aggressive, like a drunk guy yelling, “FIGHTFIGHTFIGHT!” in a bar, encouraging others to violence. (Hello, Altamont.) Others were sad, the heavy, cloying weight of misery seeking to drag every living being around it into its haze of melancholy. This rift felt . . . lonely. It was calling Dani and Zed and every being in Mystic Bayou to it because it craved company. It was probably what drew the shifters and fairy folk in the first place. That made Dani wary. She’d never experienced a longing for attention from a rift before, and certainly not at this level. And yet, every time Zed said, “Just a little longer,” she felt the prickle of anticipation along her arms. The weight of the heat and humidity lifted and she could feel the rift charging her cells with a welcome frisson of excitement.

Zed paused at a long line of moss-covered rocks that stretched as far into the woods as Dani could see. “Okay, abeille, this is as close as humans can get, without getting sick.”

“Abeille? That’s a new one.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Means ‘honeybee.’”

She laughed. “What about me reminds you of a honeybee?”

“’Cause I like honey, more than I like most things. And I like you more than I like most things.”

She tried not to blush. She really did. But it was probably the sweetest thing that any man had ever said to her. “Thank you.”