I microwaved a pound of bacon six strips at a time—turns out the key is good drainage—and made pancakes from a jug of mix-and-pour batter I found in the cabinet. It was only three days past its use-by date, so I figured the chances of it making anyone sick were slim.

The first three pancakes were amorphous blobs—I swear, one looked just like a storm trooper—but by the fourth, I’d figured out how to flip them without making a huge mess.

Nash shuffled into the kitchen as I was putting down a saucer of raw venison for Styx, and she glanced away from her breakfast just long enough to aim a yippy hello his way. She’d always liked Nash, but she still wasn’t comfortable with Tod, probably because he was dead. At first, I’d worried that she wouldn’t like me after my own death, but apparently our initial bonding transcended the questionable state of my existence.

“Hey,” I said as Nash bent to scratch the back of Styx’s neck. “I made coffee if you want some.”

“Thanks.” He sat in a chair at the table—the same chair that had always been “his” when we were together—and accepted the mug I set in front of him.

“Where’s Sabine?”

“In the shower.” Nash scrubbed his face with both hands. “Kaylee, I’m so sorry for…whatever I said or did last night.”

“You don’t remember?” I poured coffee for myself and scooped sugar into the mug.

“I remember parts of it,” he said, and I wanted to ask which parts those were, but a rehash seemed like a really bad idea.

“You said you saw Scott. Do you remember that?”

Nash’s eyes widened in surprise, then lost focus as he nodded, clearly trying to remember. “I thought I was dreaming at the time, but I wasn’t. I really saw him. Outside, on the street.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. Somewhere between my house and yours.”

“Did he say anything?”

Nash shook his head slowly. “He just looked at me for a minute, then turned around and walked off.”

“But you’re sure it was him?”

“Yeah.”

I sat in the chair next to Nash and sipped from my mug, trying to decide how best to say what needed to be said. “Tod and I saw him last night, too. Earlier. In the hospital. He was possessed, Nash. Which means you probably saw Avari.”

Nash frowned. “How do you know? Did he sound like Avari?”

“No, the voice sounded like Scott, but the words sounded like Avari.” Normally when a hellion possesses a human, the hellion retains his own voice. But… “He’s spent the past few months in Scott’s head, so it’s entirely possible he learned how to work Scott’s vocal chords, just like he did with Alec. When hewas possessing Alec, I couldn’t tell the difference.”

“Hey. Your turn in the shower,” Sabine said, padding into the kitchen in my robe.

“Thanks.” Nash stood and glanced from her to me, then back, like he wasn’t sure what to say with us both listening. Then he made a break for the bathroom while Sabine snagged a piece of bacon from the platter.

“Hi,” Sabine said, still chewing as she lifted the card from a vase of wilting mixed blooms on the counter. “The school sent you flowers. I’m sure that totally makes up for the fact that they hired the psychotic, soul-stealing pedophile who murdered you in your own home.”

I could only blink at her while she chewed.

With the pancakes warming on a pan in the oven and the last batch of bacon in the microwave, I knocked on my father’s bedroom door. “Yeah, Kay, come on in.”

I pushed open the door to find him sitting on the edge of his bed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, squinting at the alarm clock on his bedside table. “Guess what? I made breakfast.”

“You made…?” But before he could finish that thought, our ancient water heater groaned to life and the sound of running water erupted from down the hall. My dad’s eyes widened as he glanced at the closed bathroom door over my shoulder. “Who’s in the shower?”

“Nash. We kind of…had an impromptu sleepover.”

“You and Nash?” My dad was out of bed in an instant, reaching for the robe tossed over his footboard.

“No! Well, yes. But Sabine stayed the night, too.”

“That doesn’t sound much better, Kay… .”

“Hang on, Pa, don’t reach for yer shotgun just yet,” I said, grinning over the protective streak I found funny, when there wasn’t actually anything to shelter me from. “We were just circlin’ the wagons, not having an orgy.”

My dad suddenly looked like he might be sick. “Please don’t ever say that word again.”

“Wagons?” I teased, and he actually cracked a smile.

“Yes, you’re much too young to be using Wild West analogies.” He tied his robe and ran one hand through hair that showed no sign of thinning, well into his one hundred and thirty-second year. “So what happened? Why are we circling the proverbial wagons?”

I sat on the edge of his bed and patted the spot next to me until he sat again. “Scott’s out of the hospital. Nash saw him last night, and we’re pretty sure that means he actually saw Avari.”

“Nash came here because he saw Avari?”

“Actually, he was on his way here when he saw Avari. But he thought it was Scott, and he doesn’t remember much of it this morning.”