I didn’t have any idea what I was doing. I just wanted to retreat—that’s all. Never in a million years would I have imagined what power a simple thought could wield.

The scent of cool, damp earth filled my senses.

A memory floated by: falling down a summertime grassy hill when I was five or six. Skinning my knees. My face pressing against the ground as I wept. And no one coming to my rescue. I remembered crying until I couldn’t cry anymore before I’d picked myself up and walked home alone. My mother had taken one look at me and said, “Oh, le petit cochon!” And after that, my father built a fence around our yard, and I wasn’t allowed to leave.

That’s where I thought I was for a moment. Then I smelled other things: intoxicating lavender and pine, pungent coastal sagebrush. The unmistakable, comforting scent of cool ocean air. And then I realized that the person calling my name wasn’t saying “Sélène,” but “Cady.” And there wasn’t anger and disgust beneath the voice, merely pained concern.

Strong, warm hands rolled me over onto my back. An indigo blue sky dotted with hundreds of stars came into view. I knew where I was from that alone. You couldn’t see that many stars in the city. The view here was as breathtakingly beautiful at night as it was in the day. And the best part about it was the man’s face hovering over mine.

“Cady!”

I was in Lon’s backyard—his lush Garden of Eden that looked out over the cliff across the Pacific. Behind me was the welcoming harbor of a redwood deck and his covered patio, where we drank jasmine tea in the afternoon. Where we watched Jupe play fetch with Foxglove. Where we ate dinner on warm nights and talked and laughed and made plans.

I was safe. Home.

I stared up at Lon for an extended moment, lingering over the long hollows of his cheeks and tight furrow bisecting his worried brow. He was shifted. The green and gold of his flaming halo flickered over his ruddy, spiraling horns. Usually when his halo was big and transmutated like this, it cast long shadows over his face. But his features seemed brighter than usual. Ah, my halo was doing that, lighting his face from the front with a silvery glow.

My halo. Too bright. The parking garage. It all snapped back.

Panicking, I reached a searching hand down my backside. No reptilian tail. But I hadn’t imagined it: my fingers found a gaping tear in my jeans where it burst through.

“Oh, God, no,” I whispered, the words drowned in a fit of uncontrollable sobbing.

Intense green eyes stared down at me, serious and commanding. “Show me,” he said in a low voice.

I’d never been so thankful for his ability. It was a relief to just remember everything, instead of trying to explain it. I didn’t have the strength to edit details, so I showed him everything—the conversation with Hajo, the man accosting me in the elevator, and the crazy details of what came after, tail and all.

If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. And I was thankful for that, too.

I don’t know if I killed him, I said internally. I don’t think I did, but I’m not sure. What if I did?

“Fucker deserved whatever he got.”

But—

“Stop worrying and let me handle that. You’re not hurt?”

I shook my head, but I wasn’t totally sure. I didn’t feel like I could move. Like all my energy had been sapped. Lon sat on the grass and pulled me into his lap. He held me close and ran his hands up and down my back as I blubbered and sniffled. And when I was all cried out, I asked, “Is my car here?”

The bass of his voice vibrated through my cheek. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, God.” What the hell had I done? Slipped through time? Flown here? Beamed myself thirty miles to the coast without the help of the Starship Enterprise?

“I was starting to worry,” Lon said. “You weren’t answering your phone. I stepped outside to smoke, thinking I’d try to reach you one more time, and saw a flash of light on the lawn. You just . . . appeared.”

“How?”

“Dark yard. Flash of light. You were sprawled on the grass,” he summarized efficiently. “I couldn’t make out that it was you at first, but the house ward hadn’t been set off, so I figured it was okay. Then I recognized how you sounded. Inside. Your emotions,” he explained awkwardly before clarifying. “I shifted and heard your thoughts. I knew it was you. Your halo—”

“It’s so bright.”

“It’s . . .” He almost said something more, but seemed to change his mind at the last second. “It’s bright,” he finished simply in agreement.

“I wished myself here,” I whispered. “It’s not possible. Is it? Lon? How the hell is that possible?”

He smoothed a hand down my hair. “Don’t know. But I think you asked your bird-boy guardian the wrong question. If you mother’s alive, she’s on another plane. But whatever’s going on with you is happening here. You should’ve asked Priya to find out exactly what your parents bred into you during your conception.”

A rotting misery nearly pulled me under. He was right, of course. Maybe I could call Priya back, change the plan. But I was tapped out. Was there even a drop of Heka left inside me?

“Summon him later,” Lon said, surprising me. He was reading my thoughts.

He started to push himself off the ground, but I squeezed his arm. “I don’t want Jupe to see me this way,” I pleaded.

“Hush,” he said in a kind voice. “They’re all out at a movie together. We’re alone.”