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“Then why is she freaking out?” I demand, my voice climbing an octave.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?! I’m not a veterinarian for minor household animals! Perhaps she simply realized she lives in a hovel with a woman who buys her magic from shitty websites and cries all the time!”

I bite my cheek and crouch down, leveling myself with the kitchen tile. “Vesper, honey, it’s okay,” I coo. “It’s just... it’s just a draft. It’s an old building, you know that.”

My eyes flit across the kitchen to find whatever phantom she's seeing as I crawl toward her. “Come here, baby,” I whisper, reaching out a hand to stroke her flattened ears. “It’s okay, it’s just me.”

Her claws bite deep into my hand in one furious, desperate swipe that feels like hot wires being plunged into my skin.

“Ow! Dammit!” I grit out, snatching my hand back.

Four bright red beads of blood bloom across my knuckles. Vesper has never touched me—not once. In three years, the worst she’s ever given me is a playful nip, but this is something completely new. This is terror.

What is going on?

“Up,” Malachi commands, hauling me to my feet with a tug. His thumb presses against my palm as he studies the three red lines, tracking the slow slide of the blood.

Wordlessly, he drops my hand and takes a step toward the center of the kitchen. Then he squares his shoulders, draws in a breath that seems to suck the oxygen right out of the room, and lets out a low, bone-shaking snarl into the empty air.

I stare at him, my jaw hanging open. “What are you doing?”

He stops, looking back at me over his shoulder with a completely serious expression. “I am intimidating the air to put her at ease. Is it working?”

Vesper’s stopped hissing, mostly because she’s now staring at Malachi in what looks like absolute, stunned silence.

“You... you’re bullying the atmosphere?” I deadpan.

“The House-Beast believes there is a threat,” he says, turning back to the corner to give the air one final, lethal glare. “I am letting the 'threat' know that I am the only dangerous thing permitted in this kitchen. It is very simple logic, baby girl.”

The digital trill of my phone cuts through the air. I pull it from my pocket, and the name flashing on the screen makes my heart do a painful, panicked somersault.

Piper.

I slide the bar to answer, pressing the cool glass to my ear. “Hey, look⁠—”

“No, you look, Eden!” she snaps down the line furiously. “I’ve heard enough, and I’m done. I’m coming over. I’m already in the car.”

A spark of my own irritation flares up. “Piper, no! You can’t come here. I want space, I⁠—”

“No,” she snaps. “You’re staying with me, Mom, and Dad. We are going to get you better, Eden. With real, professional help.”

“I'm fine, I promise, I just need⁠—”

“You aren't fine!” Her voice cracks, the anger giving way to pure desperation. “Do. Not. Move. I’m just pulling up outside.”

“Piper, wait⁠—”

The line goes dead, and I pull the phone away from my ear, staring at the blank screen.

“She's coming,” I whisper, looking up at Malachi. “She’s coming here right now, and she thinks I’ve lost my mind—she wants to take me home, to my parents home.”

“Tell her no,” he says simply.

“I can't,” I stammer, chest tightening. “She’ll have the door kicked down if I don't open it. She’ll call the police. She’ll⁠—”

He towers over me, looking down at me with a look that’s half-pity and half-disgust.

“You are a baby,” he hisses. “First, she barges in with her soup, then all-but forces you to go to therapy, and now she wants to give you a 'time-out' at your parent’s abode like a disobedient whelp. Grow a fucking backbone.”