We thanked Maude for her hospitality and stayed out of the way as the witches wrapped things up. Apparently, Alicia would eventually be transported to a magical trial and prison, but for now, she’d remain in the wine cellar/dungeon. Neil and I, thankfully, had guest rooms upstairs. I sent the St. George info to Marcus and then finally decided it was time to break some hard news, since it looked like Neil and I would be waiting around together for a while.

“Neil . . .” I began, when we were alone in his room. “We need to talk.”

“Sure,” he said easily. “Is it about Jill?”

“Nothing at all to do with her, actually.” I gestured to the bed. “Maybe you should sit down.”

Neil frowned, alerted by my tone. “I’ll stand, thanks. Just tell me what’s happening.”

I crossed my arms, as though I could protect myself from all the anguish I was about to dredge up. Until then, I didn’t realize how I’d been fighting to keep it from crushing me.

“Neil, there’s no easy way to say this . . . and I’m so sorry to be the one telling you . . . but Olive died two nights ago.”

Neil made no sound at all, but his face went white, so white I thought he might pass out. “No,” he said at last, after several long moments of agonized silence. “No, that’s impossible.” He shook his head adamantly. “No.”

“A Strigoi killed her,” I said. Whereas I’d initially struggled to find words, I now suddenly found myself rushing forward, unable to stop. “She was staying in a dhampir commune. In Michigan. A small group of Strigoi attacked it, breaking through the wards somehow. We think they got a human to pull one of the warding stakes up. Regardless, they got in, and Olive was caught when she was running away and—”

“Wait,” interrupted Neil. In the blink of an eye, his stricken face had turned hard and skeptical. “Olive wouldn’t run away from a fight. Certainly not from a group of Strigoi. She of all people would stand her ground.”

That terrible agony ripped through me. “She was running away to protect her baby. Declan—the baby my mom is taking care of.”

Another heavy silence filled the room as the weight of those words sunk in. I wished then that I’d waited for Sydney. She would have done a more eloquent job explaining this.

“And it wasn’t even the Strigoi she was running from,” I said, when Neil only continued to stare at me in shock. “Neil, the baby, Declan . . . he’s yours. Your son. You’re the father.”