I ran into the living portion of the warehouse as Grandma Frida grabbed the med kit out of one of the metal cages. Cartoon noises floated from the media room. I stuck my head in. Arabella, blonde and short, sprawled on the couch. Catalina, taller, thinner, and dark-haired, sat on the floor among a scattering of brushes and hair ties. Matilda sat on the floor in front of her, between Bunny and a large seal-point Himalayan cat. One half of her hair was twisted into an elaborate braid.

Everyone looked at me.

I forced a smile on my face. “Matilda, where is your dad?”

“He’s taking a nap,” she said.

“Sushi!” Arabella jumped up off the couch, becoming completely vertical in 0.3 seconds.

“Can I borrow you two for a moment?”

Catalina grimaced. “I can’t let this go—I’ll have to redo the whole braid.”

“Please don’t argue.”

They must’ve heard the no-nonsense note in my voice, because my sisters moved.

“There is a dead body and an injured man in the motor pool,” I said quietly. “Grandma is watching them. Catalina, keep Matilda in this room. Do whatever you have to do to protect her. I mean whatever you have to do. If you need to use your powers, do it.”

Catalina’s face paled. “Understood.”

“Arabella, is Bern home?”

“He’s in the Hut of Evil.”

“Tell him to put us on lockdown. Where is Mom?”

“In the tower.”

“Leon?”

“Playing Grim Souls.”

Good; Leon was with his brother in the computer room.

“Are you okay?” Catalina asked.

“Yes.”

“Is someone coming for us?” Arabella whispered.

“I don’t know. Go.”

Arabella took off like a rocket, Catalina ducked back into the media room, and I ran for the intercom in the hallway.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I was attacked. One wounded, one dead body in the motor pool. We need an EMT. Can you get ahold of Rogan’s team?”

“Stand by.”

I waited.

The intercom came to life. “Open the front door.”

I sprinted to the office through the hallway, then to the door and checked the monitor. Two men in tactical gear ran up to the door through the rain, one carrying a medical bag. I opened the door, made sure it was locked behind them, and led them to the motor pool.

The medic went straight for Troy, while the other man went for the corpse and began speaking quickly into his headset.

I dialed Rogan’s number. I didn’t have to look at contacts. To my shame, I had it memorized. The call went straight to voice mail. There was no message, no introduction, just a beep.

I cleared my throat. “We were attacked on the Sam Houston Tollway. Troy is injured. Your people are taking care of him. Three vehicles were involved: a semi, a Toyota 4Runner, and a black Suburban. There was an ice mage in the Suburban. He iced the road, then the Toyota shot at us and the semi pushed us off the tollway, and we crashed into a tollbooth. An illusion mage came after us. I killed him, and I have his corpse. Call me back, please.”

I hung up and trotted to the medic.

By the time Rogan’s medic examined Troy and declared that he had a concussion, all of my adrenaline had worn off. I took several pictures of the dead guy with my phone, and walked away. I should’ve checked on Cornelius, but right now I wasn’t in any shape to give a day’s report. I headed to the tower where my mother was instead. Tower was really a grandiose name for it. It was a square chute that led up to the crow’s nest near the roof, equipped with a sturdy wooden ladder. My mother had climbed it despite her permanent limp, which meant she was really worried about our safety.

I climbed the ladder and emerged through the trapdoor into a small room, built at the very top of the warehouse. The ceiling here was barely five feet high, just enough to comfortably crawl up and sit on the low stool, which was exactly what my mother was doing. Her .300 Winchester Magnum sniper rifle was keeping her company. Dad and she had customized the roof, installing some very narrow windows, but they’d never gotten around to putting in the sniper tower. That had come later, courtesy of Grandma Frida and my mother, after Adam Pierce used some kids to blow up Rogan’s car in front of our warehouse.

From this vantage point, my mother had a perfect view of the north, south, and east sides of the warehouse and the adjoining street and parking lots. The warehouse was rectangular, and the west side, where Grandma’s Frida’s motor pool opened to the street, was too long. The roof blocked the view of that parking lot, so there was no clear shot.

I sat next to my mother.

She reached over and hugged me.

I felt like crying.

“How’s the injured?” she asked.

“A concussion. The collision knocked him out.”

“Nothing major?”

“Not that the medic found so far.” My voice sounded dull. “The Mazda is totaled.”

She didn’t even blink. “How did that happen?”

“Enerkinetic barrage mages had us pinned down and Rogan broke it in half and used it as a shield.”

“Are you injured?”

“Not seriously.”

“Is he?”

“Not seriously.”

“Are they hurt?”

“I killed them.”

“So everything is good then.”

“Yes. No.”

I opened my mouth and things just came out. I told her about Forsberg throwing me and then dying and about his eyes being two bloody holes I couldn’t unsee, watching the recording of lawyers being murdered, about the ice on the overpass and the parking lot below, and the demon, and hoping Troy didn’t have a broken neck.

She didn’t say a word. She just hugged me again.

“I should tell Cornelius,” I said.

“Cornelius won’t be up for a while. I gave him two sleeping pills,” Mom said.

“Oh.”

“He moved everything in, brought in all the animals, then tried to cook for Matilda, but the girls offered to make her oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar, so she decided to eat that instead. Then he sat in the kitchen staring off into space and his hands were shaking. I made him take a hot shower, watched him take two pills, and the last I saw, he was sleeping like a log. He needs it. He hasn’t slept since his wife died.”

“I see.” One didn’t say no to my mother.

Mom reached over and brushed my hair out of my face. “Rough waters.”

“Yes. That’s okay. I climbed into them of my own free will.”

My phone rang. I looked at it. Rogan.

“Yes?”

“I’m on my way,” he said and hung up.

I stared at my mom. “The Scourge of Mexico is on his way. We’re saved.”

Mom snorted. “Lie down.” She pointed to a narrow mattress on the floor.

I did. She put a soft blue blanket over me. It was so warm up here, cozy under the blanket. My limbs felt very heavy. I was suddenly so tired, but I was safe. Mom would watch over me.

“Try to rest.”

“I feel so weird.” Like all those terrible things had happened to someone else.

“You’re in shock. Magic-induced panic has strange side effects. Your body needs time to recover. Try to relax and let it go. I’ll tell you when your Rogan gets here.”

“He isn’t mine.”

Mom smiled at me. “Sure he isn’t.”

I yawned. “He’s bad for me. Why do I have to like a man who’s bad for me? Why couldn’t I have found someone who is solid and normal and not whatever the hell he is?”

“I don’t know.” Mom spread her arms.

I squinted at her. “You’re an adult.”

“You’re an adult too.”

“But you’re an older adult. You’ve had more practice.”

Mom leaned back and laughed.

“Listen to me. I sound like I’m fifteen years old.” I tried to scrounge up some embarrassment, but I was too tired.

“When I was five years younger than you are now, your grandpa asked me the same question,” Mom said.