“The Keeper of the Between,” Eulalie whispers, as if scarcely daring to believe his presence in our parlor.

We stare at her, surprised. No one other than Baarish (and, perhaps, the others the scaled middle worlders mentioned) has been able to recognize him for who he is until now. Taraana, on the other hand, looks panicked. We understand his feelings, of course; the majority of the middle worlders who have recognized him thus far have had less-than-pure intentions.

Eulalie sketches a deep bow to him. “I’m honored.” She is entirely serious. We look at Paheli, not sure how to react to this new development.

“Is the Keeper of the Between like a unicorn? A rare sighting?” Paheli asks Eulalie. She doesn’t seem worried about Eulalie recognizing Taraana. We don’t quite understand the specificities of the relationship she has with Eulalie, but she trusts her. As such, we do too.

“Unicorns are far more common,” Eulalie replies, her eyes still attached to Taraana.

“Lalie, if you keep staring at him, I’m going to think you mean him harm,” Paheli says without a smile. “As you can see from the state he is in, we’ve had… interactions with others whose intentions are downright evil.”

“I apologize,” Eulalie says, grimacing. “I’ve heard of the Keepers of the Between, but I never thought I’d be entertaining one.” She frowns at Paheli. “How did you meet the keeper? Who is after him? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Sorry, I meant to call you, but things happened,” Paheli replies. We do use human technology; Talei has an Instagram with followers numbering in the thousands, and Valentina boasts a large Twitter following due to her poisonous wit centering around social commentary. “Are we interrupting something?”

Eulalie has her own set of rooms in the house. An entire floor of them, in fact. She doesn’t invite guests to her rooms, preferring her privacy and respecting ours. “I do have a gathering to go to shortly.” She looks at Taraana again and frowns slightly. “Please stay inside until I’m able to equip you with spells. The keeper will be in danger if anyone recognizes him.”

“His name is Taraana,” Valentina says. “Please use that instead of calling him Keeper.”

Eulalie nods. “Thank you for correcting me.” She glances out the window. “As much as I want to stay and listen to how you met him and what circumstances have led you here, I have to go fulfill my obligations. We will talk when I get back.” She gives Paheli another hug and exhorts us to be safe before leaving.

“I am tired and hot. I want a shower, a change of clothes, some food, and some rest,” Kamboja announces, sprawling on the sofa in the parlor. “Not necessarily in that order.”

It is midday in New Orleans, and despite our fatigue, the day outside beckons.