On the screen, Bear in the Big Blue House sang a song about cleaning. Matilda picked some dried apples out of the bowl. Sergeant Teddy opened his mouth, and she put the fruit on his tongue. The enormous grizzly chewed. The children watched the show, content.

I snapped a picture with my phone and went home.

Fullerton waited in my office, as lanky and grim as I remembered. I stopping humming “Come on everybody, let’s clean up the house,” nodded at him through the glass, retrieved the cooler, and brought it to my office.

“I’ve received a request from House Sherwood,” Fullerton said. “Specifically, from Rynda Sherwood. She asked me to give you my full cooperation and assistance.”

I opened the cooler and let him look inside. “Could you sequence the DNA and determine if this ear belongs to Brian Sherwood?”

“Yes.” Fullerton looked at me, his long face thoughtful. “Is time of the essence?”

“Yes.”

“Do you require confirmation or proof that would stand in a court of law?”

“Confirmation will be sufficient.”

Fullerton pulled back his suit sleeve and held his hand above the ear, fingers splayed. Magic pulsed from him in a short, controlled burst. He raised his hand and tugged the sleeve back. “The ear doesn’t belong to Brian Sherwood or any other member of House Sherwood.”

I knew it. “Are you certain?”

“I’m never wrong,” he said.

“Thank you for your services. Please bill me.”

“I will,” he said.

“Have there been any inquiries on our account?”

“No. I would’ve immediately notified you. Is there a particular inquiry you’re waiting for, Ms. Baylor?”

“Yes. House Rogan.”

Fullerton paused, his face thoughtful. “You can receive requests for the genetic profile. You can also make them. They wouldn’t be honored until after your trials and the formal establishment of your House, but they can be made now. Good evening, Ms. Baylor.”

I saw him to the door, packed the cooler back into the fridge, and walked to Cornelius’ office. He wasn’t in it.

I could request Rogan’s profile.

What if he said no?

More importantly, did I really care if his genes aligned with mine or did I just want him the way he was, without any qualifiers?

Yes. I just wanted him.

I returned to my office and checked my laptop. Bern wasn’t up on the family network. I pushed the intercom. “Does anybody know where Bern is?”

“He left with Cornelius to check something out,” Leon responded.

“Where is everybody?”

“Your mom is with Grandma helping her in the motor pool. The control freak and evil incarnate are in the control freak’s room.”

Control freak and evil, huh. Someone was sore about something.

“What are they doing in there?”

“They won’t tell me. Something happened on Instagram. I looked at their accounts, but I can’t see anything.”

Ah. Leon had the curiosity of a cat. When you locked him out, it drove him nuts.

Everyone was busy. It was just me and Leon. The stars had aligned. I sighed.

“Come to the office.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here.”

I unlocked the small gun safe I kept hidden in the bottom drawer of my desk and took out my Sig 210 and a magazine.

Leon sauntered into my office and flopped into my client chair, a picture of teenage apathy.

I showed him the magazine. “Eight rounds, 9mm.”

Leon’s eyes lit up. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the gun.

“Manual safety. The barrel is machined from a solid block of steel. It’s an older gun, but it’s durable, reliable, and it’s very accurate. That’s what I practiced with and that’s what my dad shot.”

I pushed the gun and the magazine toward him. He swiped it off the table, slid the magazine into the gun, and sighted the hallway with it, all in one blink. One moment the gun was on the table, the next it jumped into his hand.

“Get a holster,” I told him. “And a zip-up hoodie. I shouldn’t see the gun under your clothes. I’m going out and you’re my backup.”

He leaped out of the seat and took off. I sighed. This was probably the wrong thing to do. Leon would turn seventeen in twelve days, right behind Catalina, who would be eighteen in three. I still needed to buy them both a gift. The way this was going, Catalina would end up doing trials right on her birthday. All the holidays were screwed up this year. First Christmas, now her birthday, and probably Leon’s birthday. Ugh.

In a year, Leon could legally enlist in the military, where he would be given a firearm and conditioned to use it. In a year and a half, he could be out in the field, killing people left and right. Nothing magical happened to separate your eighteenth birthday from your seventeenth. You became an adult, but you didn’t feel like one.

It’s time he knew. We couldn’t shelter him forever.

I pulled out my phone and texted Bern. Where are you?

Checking on a lead with Cornelius. Where are you?

Asking about what lead would spark a chain reaction of explanations, and knowing Bern, he’d start with him getting up this morning and then spend the next twenty minutes presenting it in a logical fashion.

Going to see Edward in the hospital. Leon’s with me. Be careful.

We will.

I texted Arabella. What’s going on with you two?

Alessandro Sagredo followed Catalina on Instagram. She’s freaking out.

Who the heck is Alessandro Sagredo and why did his name sound familiar?

I pulled my laptop closer and typed in the name. Alessandro Sagredo, second son of House Sagredo, Antistasi Prime . . . Oh. He was the Italian Prime the Office of Records was bringing in to test Catalina’s magic.

So he followed her on Instagram. What’s the big deal? He’s going to test her in the trials. Tell her it’s nothing weird.

She’s FREAKING out. I’m trying to calm her down. I may have to get wine. Or pot. Can I buy some pot?

No.

It’s medicinal.

No pot or I tell Mom.

Leon reappeared, wearing a loose blue hoodie. He was lean bordering on skinny, and the sweatshirt hung on his sparse frame. He could’ve hidden a bazooka under there and I wouldn’t be able to tell.

I fixed him with my serious stare. “You’re going as my backup. I don’t expect trouble, but if it happens, you shoot only when I give you the order. If you fire before I give you permission, I’ll never take you with me again, and I’ll make sure you don’t get anywhere close to a gun for the next year and a half. Do we understand each other?”

Leon frantically nodded.

“Good.”

The head of Edward Sherwood’s guard detail stared at me. He was a stocky, muscular man who looked like he could run through a wall, and he was doing his best to be intimidating. I had a feeling I was supposed to wilt under that stare.

“We won’t be surrendering our firearms,” I told him.

“Then you won’t see Mr. Sherwood.”

“Please ask him if he will see us anyway. This matter concerns his brother.”

“You’re not getting into that hospital room armed,” he said.

“The last time I saw Mr. Sherwood, I was armed, and I put myself between him and the creature that was trying to eat him.”

“We’re aware of your role, Ms. Baylor. House Sherwood is grateful for your assistance.”

It was time to pull out the big guns. “Before I arrived to the incident that resulted in this situation, my associate called to House Sherwood and informed your head of security that we believed Rynda Sherwood was in danger. We were told to mind our own business.”

The guard’s ice-cold composure cracked a little. “That person is no longer employed by House Sherwood.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. It’s very disheartening when you try to offer important information only to be brushed off. Please ask Edward if he would see us anyway. It’s important and urgent.”

The man stared at me. A switch clicked in his head. That’s right, the last time your people blew me off, your Prime was hurt and your chief of security was fired.