“Smokey will watch it.” I made my way up the stairs. “He’ll let me know if anyone goes after it.”

“That creepy guy is in the hospital. He ain’t watching nothin’ but the drip of the painkillers in his IV.” Mince shook his head at the dent again.

Shock ran through me. Smokey was definitely creepy, always loitering around the neighborhood and watching what went on, but he was harmless and really excited about the supernatural, something humans shouldn’t know about. Humans also shouldn’t get chased down by an aswang, an evil, soul-sucking being, because they knew me. I tended to let the weird factor slide with him. “Smokey is in the hospital? What happened?”

“Just kidney stones. Happens to the best of us. He’s got medical, though, so he’s fine.”

I took a deep breath. Mince was terrible at realizing what was newsworthy and what wasn’t. “You know, in the future, maybe you should lead with news about any attacks, B&Es, or people in the hospital before lamenting a small issue with the door of an inanimate object. It would really help me out.”

Mince looked at Darius in bewilderment. He hooked a thumb my way. “Is she for real? Small issue?” He shook his head and chuckled, focusing on Darius. “You got problems, son. I do not know what you are doing with her.”

I leveled him with a look. “Just remember—if I’m fine with denting a million-dollar car, I am more than fine denting your head with said million-dollar car.”

He took a hop-step toward the cemetery on the other side of the street, one of the more interesting views I could think of for a homeowner in New Orleans. His hands rose into the air. “Don’t get excited. We understand each other.”

I turned and let myself into my house.

“You have colorful neighbors,” Darius said, following me.

“You’ve said that before.”

“And I am surprised anew each time I’m confronted with them.”

“Cognac?” I grabbed a bottle of wine for myself. He nodded and went to my pantry, no doubt remembering my declaration of hunger. Darius cooking for me had turned into one of my favorite things.

Before I sat down at the kitchen table, a knock sounded at my door.

I frowned as Darius paused in his efforts. A moment later, his large frame was in the archway of the kitchen. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No. What’s with the rigidity? Are you expecting an attack or something?” I hopped up and ripped out my sword, uncertainty seeping through me. I didn’t think he still kept things from me that might put me in danger, but I hadn’t threaten-questioned him lately. It was anyone’s guess.

Without a word, he zipped to the front door, claws elongating from his left hand. Nothing else on his body changed, a sign of his excellent control, something that came with age for a vampire.

I took his place in the archway. “Use the peephole—” I cut off as the handle turned and the door cracked open.

Darius stepped to the side and flattened against the wall, clearly intending to use surprise to his advantage.

“She likes us to knock!” Dizzy sounded harried. “How many times does she have to tell us that?”

The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding left my lungs in a gush.

“No, she likes strangers to knock. She doesn’t care if we just come in,” came Callie’s reply as the door swung open.

Dizzy filled the doorway, looking back at his wife. “What is your head made out of, wood? Darius’s people breaking in makes her jumpy. She wants us to knock!”

Shaking his head, Dizzy turned and took two steps into the entryway. Before I could ask what they were doing following me home—even though I had a sinking suspicion I knew—he glanced over and noticed the large shape with claws.

Dizzy had jumped, reached into his satchel, and thrown a spell before my brain could shift from Why are you here? to finding an appropriate four-letter word to yell.

Darius flinched and tried to dodge, but he was too late. The spell puffed like baby’s breath before sparkling blue and green. It was very pretty, which meant it was also potent and probably dangerous. Dizzy liked to build a false sense of security into his spells, usually by way of lovely colors or smells. The spell that shot magical acid strong enough to rot flesh looked like a fuzzy puppy before it exploded.

I was so glad he was on my side.

Darius convulsed and his fingers bent backward, cracking.

“Oh no!” Dizzy said, finally realizing who it was. “Oh no. He’s trapped in the spell. Callie, hurry!”

“What’s happen— Oh! I need to find—”

I didn’t wait for Callie to dig into her satchel.

Fire shot out from my fingers and covered the spell, but it had a volatile heat that immediately went to war with my fire magic. It would take finesse to keep it from exploding as it unraveled. Darius’s limbs clearly didn’t have that kind of time.

Another crack filled the air, making my teeth grind, and I opened up and let the cold surge through me. I didn’t try for it, or work at it…I just surrendered to the moment. My fear for Darius ate through the rage that pulsed up with the power.

A solid wall of air wedged between Darius, and Dizzy and Callie, my subconscious clearly wanting the threat kept at bay even though logic said the dual mages weren’t an enemy. Back in control, I draped the spell that was torturing Darius with my colder magic, the effect manifesting as crystals of ice, frosting over the spell and wiping out the lovely sparkly affect. Another crack sounded from Darius. Fear pumped up my adrenaline.

My fire magic swirled beneath the ice, power pumping higher than I could comfortably control in normal situations. This time I didn’t balk. I used the fire to drill down into the spell as the ice slowly ate away at it from the outside. The intricate hex unraveled, fiber by fiber, getting angry as it did so.

I pulled out the fire and pushed the ice down into the frayed spell, the effect like water freezing within the cracks. The swell of magical violence stopped immediately. When I cracked the crystals of ice encrusting the spell, the whole shebang shattered like glass, falling to the floor before melting into nothingness.

I rushed forward. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

Darius’s tightened eyes connected to mine like a lifeline. A vein in his jaw pulsed. That was the only indication of his intense pain.

“You are not having a very good day,” I said, ready to grab his fingers and bend them straight. Though gross and stomach-churning, that would make it easier for him to heal.

“I can fix that,” Callie said, knocking at the solid air in front of her. It didn’t make a sound. “Reagan, let me in and I can heal him. Mostly. I think. Worst case, I can dull the pain while you straighten his fingers.”

“Clothes,” Darius said with a heavy voice. Those last two breaks were arms. That must’ve hurt something awful. He was clearly ready to escape into his monster form to heal more quickly.

“Yeah, sure. Callie, close the door,” I said, hurrying to undo the buttons on Darius’s shirt. “Can I just rip this, or…”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Only you would rather endure horrible pain than see harm come to your designer clothes,” I mumbled.

I pushed the fabric off his shoulders and carefully down his arms. At least they were in reasonably straight lines. I quickly undid his belt and pants before pushing the fabric down his legs. Without hesitation, I hooked my thumbs into the elastic of his boxer briefs and pushed them down as well.

“Crisis aside, I do not like how comfortable you are with taking off his clothing, Reagan,” Callie said.

“Not his specifically,” I answered quickly. “Just guys in general. I study the arts of removing men’s underwear.”

“This is no time to joke, Reagan,” Dizzy said, picking at his nail. “That was a truly nasty spell. Penny worked with us on the power for that one. Normal men would’ve passed out from pain. Lesser vampires would’ve slipped into a rage and killed us all upon being freed. We shouldn’t have created it. We shouldn’t do something just because we can. But…in our defense, it was only because we were nervous about the Mages’ Guild coming for us. We—”