“All right,” said Shelby. The uncertainty was gone, replaced by her normal good cheer. “See you soon, then.” She hung up.

I smiled to myself as I texted the address to her number, put my phone away, and began the process of removing any obvious “nonhumans live here” markers from easy view. The kitchen was easy: tuck a few of Grandma’s cookbooks into a drawer, hide Grandpa’s bottles of formalin behind the wilted lettuce in the vegetable crisper and presto, a normal kitchen for a normal human family. The front hall was harder—I had to take down several pictures—but it was still nothing compared to what it would have taken to do the same thing at home.

I stuck my head into the living room, where Sarah was still staring raptly at the television. Nothing in there really screamed “hide me,” except for maybe Sarah herself, and that wasn’t an option. “Sarah?” I asked, stepping fully inside.

She didn’t react. It was possible she couldn’t tell me from the voices on the TV. I walked toward her, careful to stay at a nonthreatening distance. Trying to approach her when she was focusing on something else was a lot like dealing with the venomous snakes at the zoo, and about as dangerous. “Sarah, it’s Alex. Can you look at me for a second?”

“Math is happening,” she scolded, not turning her head.

“Math has a pause button. Please, can we talk for a second? I’ll make you an ice cream sundae.”

That got her attention. She turned her head toward me, and asked, “Vanilla? With ketchup and curry powder?”

I managed to repress my shudder. She probably wouldn’t have recognized it anyway. “Yes, vanilla ice cream with ketchup and curry powder.”

“All right.” Sarah twisted to fully face me instead of the television. “Talk.”

“I have a . . . friend. Her name is Shelby. She works with me at the zoo. We had a bad day today, and she doesn’t want to be alone. So I told her that she could come over here. Is that all right with you?”

A line formed between Sarah’s eyebrows as she frowned. “Oh,” she said. “No. No, I don’t think that’s okay at all. Won’t I be here? Won’t she see me?”

“Yes. She’ll see a pretty girl who’s having some medical trouble, and that’s all.” I touched the chain around my neck that held my anti-telepathy charm. “I’m going to give her a charm so that you can’t accidentally hurt her, because I know you’d be sad if you did. And it’ll be good for you to see someone who isn’t a relative.”

Sarah shook her head. “I don’t want to.”

“Sarah . . .”

“What if it doesn’t work? The charm? The math doesn’t always add up, you know. What if I get confused and I hurt her? You’ll hate me, and Angela will finally say ‘that’s it, oh well, we tried, but cuckoo is cuckoo is cuckoo,’ and then the knives in the night, and nothing ever after.”

“Sarah . . .” I moved closer before crouching down. “That’s not going to happen, I promise. Now, I can call Shelby and tell her not to come if you need me to, but I want you to be sure you need that. Please, Sarah.”

She bit her lip. Then, finally, she said, “I want two ice cream sundaes, and I want to sleep in your room tonight.”

If my little sister had tried bargaining like that, I would have been annoyed. From Sarah, it was a sign of recovery, and so welcome that I almost hugged her. I restrained myself and smiled instead, straightening back up as I said, “It’s a deal. Shelby will be here soon; I’m going to go and tell the mice they need to keep quiet.”

Sarah snorted, and for just a moment, she looked like her old self again: focused, smarter than me, and laughing at my pain. “Good luck with that, Alex.”

“Thanks.” I walked out of the room as she turned back to the TV. I didn’t want to see the moment when the presence slipped out of her face, as I knew it inevitably would.

She was getting better. She had to be.

Bribing the mice required an entire package of Oreos and half a pound of cheddar cheese, with the promise of more to come after they’d kept their word and stayed in the bedroom until Shelby was gone. Bribing Crow was easier: a package of raw chicken livers and he was happy to stay right in the middle of my bed, getting bloodstains on the duvet. It wouldn’t be the first time.

I was walking down the stairs and buttoning a clean shirt when the doorbell rang. “Coming!” I shouted, almost tripping over my own feet in my hurry to answer. “Coming,” I repeated, and opened the door.

Shelby blinked. Then she grinned. “You’re lopsided,” she said.

“What?”

“Lopsided.” She gestured toward my shirt. I looked down and reddened. I had managed to miss a button in the middle, leaving me off-kilter.

“Oh,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it.” Her hand brushed my chin, pushing it gently upward until we were eye-to-eye. She was still grinning. “I think it’s cute. Are you going to invite me inside?”

“Oh,” I said again, and stepped to the side, indicating the front hall with a wave of my hand. “Please, come in.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Shelby, and stepped over the threshold.

She was wearing a knee-length blue dress with an almost 1950s-style skirt, the kind that would flare out if she spun around. The six inches around the neckline and bottom foot or so of the fabric was white, meeting the blue in a series of scalloped curves that looked almost like clouds. It was the sort of dress most women would have paired with heels, but she was wearing blue ballet flats. I silently approved. Shoes like that wouldn’t get her killed in a firefight. Her only jewelry was a pair of opal stud earrings and some sort of pendant on a silver chain, currently hidden by the neckline of her dress.

Shelby was looking at me, smirking slightly. “You done staring, there, or shall I stand here a bit longer before you show me around?”

“Sorry.” I grimaced and closed the door, turning the deadbolt. “Um, kitchen’s to your left, bathroom’s down the hall, living room’s to your right. The upstairs isn’t currently fit for human habitation. Sarah is in the living room watching PBS. Did you want some coffee, tea, cocoa, something stronger . . . ? Like maybe a boyfriend who doesn’t babble incessantly?”