I didn’t answer her, because she was not the Hattie I remembered. If it had been Missy out there, I would have believed it far easier.

I looked up at Eric, getting my first glimpse of him in his other shape. He looked a little like the Wookie from Star Wars. Only his fur was a bit longer, and his face was more human, less animal. He blinked down at me and his glasses drooped. His bowtie was still on too, nearly buried in all that fur.

Neither of us dared to say anything, but I knew what I had to do. “Stay,” I mouthed the word as I peeled his arms off me. I could draw them away from him. I could still keep him safe. Because Hattie was wrong.

I wasn’t afraid.

I was fed up and tired, but I wasn’t afraid, and I most certainly wasn’t a little girl to be patronized.

I crouched even though my legs protested. I pushed myself through the pain, knowing I had to for Eric. And maybe a little for me too.

I slipped away from him, circled around and back toward Hattie. She was still shouting at her helpers. I didn’t see Crash there with her, but she held the knife he’d made from demon steel.

I stood and walked toward her, pulling my own knives. “You crossed the wrong person this time, Hattie. My gran told me once that you were a bit crazy, but I would never have thought you’d stoop to killing.”

Her pale gray eyes swept over me. She put one hand on her hip, and the other pointed the demon-steel knife at me. “You think that you can stop me? You have no idea what you’ve walked into. When I told you to leave Savannah, that it wasn’t safe, I gave you the chance to be safe. I can take your memories away for good. I can let you go back to the normal world.”

I stared her down. “My gran watched over Savannah until she died.” A sense of understanding flowed over me. “She loved the shadow world and devoted her life to protecting everyone in it. And I’m taking her place.”

The air around us sighed, as if the graves and those in them understood what I’d just declared. That I would protect those who could not protect themselves, so they wouldn’t end up dying early.

Hattie’s lip curled. “The shadow world was what killed her, Breena. She didn’t die a quiet death—she was a long time from dying, and yet she was taken. Early. That was no cancer that ate her away, but a poison.”

Some people would beg to differ. Gran had lived to a hundred and two. And I knew exactly what Hattie was trying to do.