“Agreed. I’m glad it was a good interview.”

“Thanks. Any word about Emme?”

“Gunnar said she’s awake. She apparently doesn’t remember much.”

“I probably wouldn’t want to remember it, either. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Two wraiths running around for days causing trouble. You’d think Containment would have stopped them.”

“It’s still a big city, with a lot of places to hide,” I said. “And the magic monitors can do only so much.” Perversely, I was grateful for that right now.

“I know.” Tadji cleared her throat. “Listen, I wanted to tell you, I’m trying to get in touch with my mom. Taking a trip to see them, maybe. It’s been a really long time, and—I don’t know.” She looked up, stared absently. “These interviews just make me want to strengthen those connections.”

I didn’t bother to hide my surprise. “Really? I thought you didn’t know where they were.”

“I don’t, exactly.” She scratched absently at her arm. “But I know where we used to live. I figured that’s the best place to start.”

“How long has it been?”

“About two years.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun in a war zone.”

She made a vague sound of agreement. “I guess.”

I handed a customer a paper bag of goods I’d already packed for her that morning. She ran a tab with the store. I didn’t do that for many, but her son outside the Zone sent money every few weeks, and she always paid as soon as she received it.

“Thank you, Mrs. Rosenberg,” I said, and she nodded, carried the bag outside again.

Tadji had pulled a notebook out of her bag, was glancing at her notes. She’d broached the idea of her family, so maybe she’d be open to a few more questions. Even if she didn’t talk about it much, I wondered if magic was on her mind as often as it was on mine.

“So, your mom, your aunt,” I said quietly, although the store was empty. “You said they practiced voodoo when you were growing up?”

Tadji kept her eyes on her notebook. “Yeah.”

“When the Veil opened. When we figured out magic was actually a thing. Do you think any of what they did . . . was real?”

She paused, then closed the notebook, put it carefully back in the bag. “I guess that depends on your perspective.”

Not exactly an answer. “Where had they lived? They were north of Baton Rouge, right?”

She looked at me for a good, solid minute. “Does it matter?”

The tone in her voice had me standing up again. “Well, no. I was just asking.”

She picked up the bag, slung it over her neck, adjusted it. “I should go. Next interview’s in a few minutes.”

“Tadji—”

But she shook her head. “I should go.”

“Okay,” I said hesitantly. “Be careful out there.”

Tadji nodded, and I watched her leave, feeling like I’d screwed up my second relationship in two days.

I was living two lives—one magical, one nonmagical. And keeping the boundaries clear was getting more and more complicated.

•   •   •

Business was brisk. I was glad to have something else to think about, even if it was hard to concentrate on soap and batteries when my mind was occupied by Containment, Paranormals, wraiths, and now Tadji and Liam.

Half past noon, the door’s bell jangled. A man I’d never seen before walked in.

He was tall, with tousled brown hair atop a high forehead. His eyes were green and deep set, crowned by thick eyebrows. He wore a gray suit with a vest, and a button-up shirt. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a man in a suit.