“It’s open, come on up,” I called. Mom was carrying two pretty ceramic pots, and I could see the green tips of bulbs sprouting. All my window boxes and planters were still empty. I hadn’t had time to get out to the abbey yet and dig a few things up. I hoped they were a housewarming gift.

I turned and checked the table. The drinks were chilled, the plates out, the napkins folded. It was my first garden party.

Barrons was looming over a gas grill, searing thick steaks and trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his disgust. I wasn’t sure if he found the act of cooking meat revolting—as opposed to eating it raw—or if he just wasn’t much for dead cow because he preferred live … cow. Or live something.

I didn’t ask. Some things are better left unsaid.

He looked at me and I shivered. I never get enough of him. Never will.

He lives.

I breathe.

I want. Him. Always.

Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever.

Later we would go to bed, and when he rose over me, dark and vast and eternal, I’d know joy. Who knew? Much later we might fly a couple of Hunters to the moon.

While I waited for our dinner company to come up the stairs, I stared at the city. It was mostly dark, with only a few lights flickering. It wasn’t remotely the same city I’d met last August; still, I loved her. One day she would be filled with life, teeming with craic again.

Dani was out there in the streets somewhere. Soon I would go looking for her.

But not to kill her.

We’d fight back to back.

Sisters and all.

I think Alina would understand.

The good guys and bad guys aren’t as easy to tell apart as I used to think they were. You can’t look at someone with your eyes and take their measure.

You have to look with the heart.

The end …