I met Sanya’s gaze for a moment and said, “He’s with me. He’s also the reason Akariel has a date with the inside of a vault.”

Sanya seemed to consider that for a moment. He glanced at Michael, who gave a grudging nod.

The younger Knight pursed his lips thoughtfully at that, his gaze moving to the backseat.

Hendricks had woken up, but he hadn’t moved. He watched Sanya with steady, beady eyes.

“The woman,” Sanya said, frowning. “What is she?”

“Hurt,” I said.

Something like chagrin flickered over his features. “Da, of course. You would not bring her here if you thought her a danger.”

“Not to you or me,” I said. “Tessa might have a different opinion.”

Sanya’s eyebrows went up. “Is that how she was wounded?”

“That was after she was wounded.”

“Really.” Sanya peered a little more closely at Gard.

“Back off,” Hendricks rumbled. “Comrade.”

Sanya flashed that swift smile again and displayed open palms to Hendricks.

Michael nodded to Thomas. “Pull the truck around to the back of the house. With all this snow piled up it should be hidden from the street.”

“Thank you, Michael,” I said.

He shook his head. “There’s a heater in the workshop, and a couple of folding cots. I’m not exposing the children to this.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Michael asked gently. He thumped the truck’s dented hood once, lightly, and waved Thomas toward the back of the house.

Twenty minutes later we were all warm, if a bit crowded in Michael’s workshop.

Gard lay on a couch, sleeping, her color improving almost visibly. Hendricks sat down with his back to the wall beside Gard’s cot, presumably to stand watch, but he’d started snoring within a few minutes. Sanya, with the help of Molly and her siblings, was off rounding up food.

I watched as Michael wrapped Akariel up in a clean white hankie embroidered with a silver cross, muttering a prayer under his breath the whole while. Then he slipped the hankie into a plain wooden box, also adorned with a silver cross. “Excuse me,” he said. “I need to secure this.”

“Where do they keep those things?” Thomas asked, after Michael had departed.

I shrugged. “Some big warehouse with a gazillion identical boxes, probably.”

Thomas snorted.

“Don’t even think it,” I said. “It isn’t worth it.”

Thomas ran his gloved fingers over the white scarf. “Isn’t it?”

“You saw how these things operate. They’ll manipulate your emotions and self-control, and something bad would happen to Justine. Or they’d wait until they had you hook, line, and sinker and you were their meat puppet. And something bad would happen to Justine.”

Thomas shrugged. “I’ve got one demon in my head already. What’s one more?”

I studied his profile. “You’ve got one monster in your head already,” I countered. “She barely survived it.”

He was still for a moment. Then he slammed his elbow back against the workshop wall, a gesture of pure frustration. Wood splintered, and a little cold air whooshed in.