Liam shook his head, eyes tracking Nix as she made her way through the room. “No. Just a little war guilt. Feels like Eleanor was hurt because of him. Puts off visiting her because that’s how he copes. Tête dure.”

“What’s that mean?”

Liam chuckled, glanced down at me. “It means he’s got a head as hard as yours.”

“And yet you’re intrigued by me.”

“That’s one of the possible ways to describe it.”

“There you go with the flattery again.”

Nix walked back to us before Liam could reply. “I like your inventory.”

“Thank you. I do, too.”

“You can move things?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“How long ago did the magic appear?”

“Eight months.”

“Sudden or buildup?”

“Um, sudden. I stopped something that was falling on me.”

“And since then?” Her questions were quick, businesslike. It took me a moment to realize I was being interrogated. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who needed assurance about this partnership. She was putting herself in a really dangerous position, too.

“It happened once when I wasn’t thinking about it. Other than that, I haven’t really tried much.”

“And how do you feel afterward?”

“Dizzy. Hungry.”

She nodded. “Humans weren’t built for magic. It takes a toll on your body, which grows exponentially the more you absorb.”

“Your body is a sponge,” Liam said. “That’s your little biological gift.”

“And I’m so grateful for it.”

Nix ignored the jokes. “You have to learn to get rid of the magic, but in a way that won’t make the situation worse, or expose you publically. You have to learn to cast and bind it.”

“Wait. So if the thing that saves me is getting rid of the magic, and actually using it gets rid of it, why can’t I just do that? Why do I have to do something else?”

“Both methods discharge a certain amount of magic, yes. But not in the same way. It’s the difference between opening a dam on the Mississippi River and blowing up a levee. Water moves both ways, but one is much safer than the other.

“This is a process,” she continued. “A requirement for the rest of your life, if you want to stay sane.”

I had a friend in elementary school who’d been diabetic. Every day, she monitored her blood sugar levels, gave herself a shot of insulin. She acted as though it was no big deal and for her, by that point in her life, it probably wasn’t. That was the attitude I needed—positive resignation.

“I don’t want to become a wraith,” I said, and glanced at Liam. “And I certainly I don’t want to hurt anyone—there’s been too much of that already. So yeah. I’ll learn. It won’t hurt, will it?” I wasn’t big on pain.

Nix’s smile was sympathetic. “Not nearly as much as magic destroying your body from the inside out.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Then let’s get started.”

She nodded. “Let me just get comfortable.” She shook her shoulders, and the image of the long-haired girl human who’d walked into the store fell away like curling bark. It left behind a woman with delicately tipped ears, long fingers, and a faintly green cast to her skin.

I figured Liam would bring a Sensitive skilled at hiding her magic and who’d learned how to keep her levels balanced. But that wasn’t who Nix was . . .

“You’re a Paranormal.” I heard the anger in my voice, was embarrassed by the judgment in it. But this wasn’t a visit to Devil’s Isle, where Paras were supposed to be. This was my home, and Liam had brought a Para here without so much as a word.