“Just find out what Mr. Beck is—without letting him know you’re not human. Can you find some reason to touch him and read his fears a little more in depth?” Thanks to the braided bracelets we both wore—woven strands of dissimulatus, to keep hellions from identifying us from the Netherworld—he’d never know either of our species unless we gave ourselves away.

“If you think he’s really screwing students, finding a reason to touch him will be the easy part.” Sabine leaned back on the couch, making no move to show me out.

“Yeah. For you, I guess it will be.”

Her brows rose again, in challenge. “You calling me a slut?”

“No.” I sighed, trying to push aside thoughts I really didn’t want to think. “I think you’re fanatically loyal to Nash, at least in your heart.” And when I was gone, that loyalty would probably be mutual.

“Sabine?” I said, and her focus narrowed on me, her attention as serious now as my tone of voice. “I know you’ll be there for him when I’m gone.” In more ways than I wanted to contemplate. “But don’t even think about touching him until I’m cold and in the ground.”

6

Sunday morning, I woke up alone. My dad had left a note on the fridge, telling me he’d be back for dinner. No explanation. But I knew what he was doing. He was looking for a way to save my life. I also knew that if he found one, he’d take it, no matter what it cost him, or anyone else.

What it cost me was obvious. Why did my father always seem to demonstrate his love for me through his own absence?

I ate a pint of Phish Food for breakfast—why worry about either calories or poor nutrition when I wouldn’t be there to suffer from either one?—then got showered and dressed on autopilot. After half an hour of flipping through TV shows I had no interest in, I picked up my phone to call Emma—then remembered that she was working. But before I could slide my cell back into my pocket, it started playing Nash’s dedicated ring tone.

I smiled and flipped the phone open.

“Hey,” Nash said into my ear, his voice deep and gruff, like he’d just woken up. “You busy?”

“Got nothin’ scheduled till sometime Thursday. Why? What’cha got in mind?”

Bedsprings groaned, and Nash’s voice got louder. “Lady’s choice. Lunch? Movie? Hell, skydiving? You name it, and I’ll do it.”

I hesitated for one heart-thudding moment. “My dad’s out. I could use some company….”

Silence, but for a single exhalation over the line. “Seriously?” he asked. But we both knew what I was really saying. “You sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah.” No. But I’d run out of time to get ready. “Bring protection.” ’Cause I sure didn’t have any.

“Giveme half an hour.”

I closed my phone and slid it into my pocket, suddenly so nervous I couldn’t even breathe properly. Every breath seemed to come too early or too late, like I was alternately suffocating and hyperventilating.

Was that normal?

Feeling clueless and stupid, I squelched the urge to call Emma for advice—she wouldn’t have her phone behind the counter at work anyway—then stood and stared around my living room like I’d never seen it before. I felt like I should do something to…prepare. But damned if I knew what.

To distract myself from the endless list of things I suddenly realized I didn’t know about sex—not the science stuff, the real stuff; stuff I’d never really contemplated, but that now seemed vital—I made my bed. Then brushed my teeth. Then changed out of my boring cotton underwear for a pair of slightly less boring cotton underwear, silently cursing the embarrassment that had kept me from buying actual grown-up clothes when Emma had dragged me into Victoria’s Secret a couple of months earlier.

When none of that helped, I glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. T-minus nine minutes, and counting. It would take five just to boot up my laptop. So I sat on the couch and pulled out my phone. Then did the unthinkable.

I called Sabine.

The mara answered on the third ring. “School doesn’t start for another twenty-one hours, Kaylee,” she groaned. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Beck yet.”

“I know. I, um…I need some advice.” I closed my eyes and put one hand over them, silently cursing myself.

“From me?” She couldn’t have sounded more surprised if she’d woken up bald and toothless.

“I wouldn’t have called you if I had any other options, but Emma’s at work, and my mom’s dead, and Harmony’s…well, she’s Nash’s mom, so that’s out of the question. And that only leaves you.”

Bedsprings creaked again—was I the only one who got up before lunch?—and her hand scratched the receiver as she covered it. I couldn’t make out whatever she yelled at her foster mother, but it definitely wasn’t…polite.

Then a door slammed and most of the background noise died. And Sabine was back.

“I’m assuming this is about sex. If I’m wrong, correct me now, or this conversation is going to get really weird.”

“You’re not wrong. I have questions, and I need answers, fast. Nash will be here in—” I glanced at the clock again “—seven minutes.”

“Cutting it pretty close, aren’t you?” She sounded distinctly unhappy to hear that I was minutes away from sleeping with Nash, and I choked back the sudden fear that her answers would sabotage my first—and likely only—sexual experience.