I nodded.

“There are stories in there, plenty of them, about witches trying to cast a spell against a null. Nothing ever worked. Then in the twenties a New York witch became friends with a null, and they did a little experimenting. I can tell you with absolute certainty that there’s no spell that even works against you, much less can take away your power. If we physically, permanently change something, you can’t undo that, but there’s just no active spell that can work against you or around you. We know that much, but we don’t know where your power comes from or why it works against magic.” Her voice rose with frustration.

I glanced at Will and Dashiell. Will was shaking his head. “The wolves haven’t had a ton of interactions with nulls, and we certainly don’t have documentation. We just know that when we get close to a null—in either form—we’re suddenly normal humans again. Simple as that.”

“Dashiell?” I asked. “Any ideas about how Olivia turned?”

He shrugged gracefully. “Don’t you think I would tell you if I did?”

I had a few potential answers to that, but without warning, Kirsten slammed her hand against a side table. “Enough with the prince of darkness evasion crap,” she snapped. “If you’d kept us in the loop from the beginning, this might never have happened. You knew, you knew who she was, how crazy she was, and you still let her live in your city after she turned. You let her live, period, even knowing what she did to Scarlett.”

I figured this was what Kirsten had been wanting to say since she’d entered the house that night, and she wasn’t wrong. As she spoke I felt her power flare again. The feeling was incredible, like I was a socket with a bunch of cords plugged in and one of them suddenly surged. For the first time, I thought I felt whatever was different about me actually push back at something, as though my nullness were saying down, girl to Kirsten. And although I felt her magic strain against me, I never doubted my ability to ground it. It was extraordinary, and I had to make an effort to hide my surprise.

Something like guilt flew across Dashiell’s face, and then he remembered how to control his human expressions. “I do not answer to you, Kirsten,” he said coldly. “You have both”—he turned his head to include Will—“agreed to my leadership in this city. That I would have final word. It was a condition of this little experiment, our working together. If you don’t like the way I am running things, you’re welcome to try to take what I have built for yourself.”

I’m not sure how it happened, but suddenly I was laughing. And then I was laughing a lot, while everyone in the room stared at me. And then I was doubled over with tears of laughter dripping onto my jeans. “I’m sorry,” I said when I could breathe. I sat up. Dashiell was glaring at me; the others just stared with their mouths open. I giggled again, until I managed to say, “I’m sorry, Dashiell. Really. It’s just a lot of tension, and then you’re all ‘Grr! My way or the highway!’ And I’m just really tired, and you need better dialogue.” I cracked up again and saw Will trying to smother a tiny smile. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

“I’m going to attribute that to the apprehension, and not insubordination,” Dashiell said stiffly. At that, I kept my jaw clenched shut, but I couldn’t help the giggles escaping through my lips. “What?!” he finally said, exasperated.

“Did you know, Dashiell, that when you’re stressed your speech patterns gain, like, a master’s degree? Food for thought,” I said as soberly as I could manage. I’d never talked to Dashiell like that. “But more importantly, I don’t know that much about how deep Olivia’s manipulations go—as Will so helpfully pointed out, I pretty much fell for all of it—but whether or not she planned this, I would bet that she would love what’s happening right now. Us arguing. Me losing it. All that good stuff.”

There was another long silence, and then Kirsten spoke first. “She’s right. I’m sorry.”

Dashiell tipped his head. “Human emotions and reactions still feel strange to me,” he allowed, which was as close to an apology as we were likely to get. To be fair, I did often forget how difficult it must be for the vampires to be around me, given what they are. The wolves retain their human emotions—often, like their metabolisms, they’re even revved up—but the vampires seem to lose their grip on feelings over time.

“Okay,” Jesse said after a beat. “You’ve told me what we don’t know—who is working with Olivia, and how she became a vampire. So what do we know?”

Will said diplomatically, “I think one thing we can all agree on is that there is some kind of pattern or plan here. Olivia is working toward something.”

“Kirsten suggested that Olivia wants Scarlett,” Jesse said. I had a sudden elementary-school urge to punch him in the arm for tattling. All the eyes in the room turned toward me with speculation, like they were all trying to figure out what Olivia saw in me.

I started picking at a cuticle, my hands hidden under the table. This was probably the most uncomfortable I’d ever been in my life. Everyone at the table knew that I’d been Olivia’s puppet, and that I’d fallen for her psychopathic bullshit for years. Not to mention that the two men I had a sort-of thing for were both sitting right there in front of me, aware of each other. I wanted to get up and leave so badly that all I could think about was the route I’d need to take from where I was sitting to the front door. Even if I made it that far, though, I didn’t have my van. Jesse had driven us. I fought the urge to bury my face in my hands.