“Do you have Coke?” Jimmy asked.

“Yes, sadly. It will rot your teeth, but I did pick some up.” Mr. Tom turned toward the fridge.

I clasped my hands as Jimmy took a much-too-large bite of the sandwich, filling his cheeks to the extent that he could barely close his mouth. He’d relaxed a few of his manners at college, that was clear.

“So…there’ve been some changes with me,” I started. “It all started with this house…”

“I know.” He struggled to swallow before taking a sip of the freshly opened can of Coke to wash it down. “You look really good, Mom. You finally had time to exercise and stuff, huh? You always wanted to get in shape.”

“I wanted to be in shape, not get in shape, but…no. This house—”

“This house is rad. It’s creepy as hell.” He bobbed his head as he looked around. “It’s huge.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Mr. Tom finished washing up. “I assume I will stay behind to watch the young master when you visit the bar?”

Jimmy’s eyes rounded, but he didn’t comment. There was no telling what, precisely, he was reacting to.

“Yes, if you don’t mind. The others are already there, not to mention Austin.” Anger flash-boiled my blood. I pushed it aside. “I’ll have plenty of cover.”

“Of course.” Mr. Tom walked from the room with a straight back, raised nose, and grossly overdone stuffy English butler vibe. He did like to put on a show.

“You have your own butler?” Jimmy asked with a grin, his right cheek puffed out with food. “That is so fucking awesome.”

I frowned at him. “When you are in this house, you will not curse. Have respect for me and your surroundings.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and finished off the first sandwich.

“I do have a butler of sorts, yes. He kinda…came with the house. He was employed here when I came. So was the gardener.”

“Yeah, you have a huge yard.” He shook his head. “Dad’s house is big, but it doesn’t even compare to this one. He lives in a ritzy spot, but he certainly doesn’t have the money for a butler!”

“You went to his house first?” I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face. It was petty, but some things couldn’t be helped.

“Yeah. I thought you knew? He kept pushing and pushing, and all the guilt trips…” He sighed, picking up the second sandwich. “Same ol’ Dad. He hasn’t relaxed with the new setup.”

“So then…why are you early? I wasn’t expecting you for another day.”

“I could not handle Camila for one more second. She’s too…nice! She was always around, smiling and chatting and wanting to get to know me.” He shivered. “Dad was working like he always does, so it was mostly just me and her. I mean, she’s great, don’t get me wrong, but…” He shook his head and then took a bite.

“So…how long are you here? I’d thought you were going to leave from here to go there.”

“The week, if that’s okay? I fly out on Monday. After Easter.”

I smiled and quickly walked around to wrap my arms around his shoulders and squeeze him. “Of course! We have plenty of room. But…” I sat at a stool next to him. “Like I was saying, there have been some changes.”

“You found someone new?”

“What? No, not that. You see, I didn’t actually pay for this house. It kind of…chose me.”

His eyes narrowed, not out of suspicion, but like he was trying really hard to get my words to make more sense.

“Gargoyles are actually real,” I said. “Magic is real. I didn’t believe it at first, but… Well.”

“Are you on meds? Is it for the depression? Dad said you were depressed.”

My eyebrows crawled up my forehead, and a new flash of anger blistered through me. “Your father never bothered…” I pushed away the desire to talk smack, taking a deep breath. “I’m not depressed, no. I’m actually happier now than I’ve ever been. But the world as you know it isn’t actually the whole story.” I twisted my lips to the side, thinking. “Right, okay. Finish up. I’ll show you. I didn’t actually believe any of it until I saw proof.”

“What kind of proof?”

“You’ll see.”

“Miss, are you sure this is the best idea?” Mr. Tom stood in the large entryway, awaiting further instruction. “The game box is all cued up with his favorite game. Wouldn’t he rather do that? Remember how your parents reacted?”

Edgar stood beside Mr. Tom with a supportive smile. He had no problem showing his supernatural abilities to a non-magical person.

“This is the only way, Mr. Tom, or Ivy House will just rattle him. You know she will.” I pointed up at the panel arching above the entryway, bridging the gap between large, curving staircases. A lovely tableau of a meadow was etched into the wood, spring flowers covering the rolling hillside.

“Mom, you’re starting to make me nervous,” Jimmy said softly, and my heart squished because it was clear he was worried about me. He cared.

“You’re stealing all of my fun,” Ivy House said to me in our magical way of speaking. “I wanted to see if I could make him wonder if he was going crazy, like your father.”

“Which is exactly why I am telling him now,” I replied. “I want him to be happy here. To be comfortable. I want him to come back.”

The house was quiet for a beat. “Ten-four.” An affirmative.

The flowers engraved on the panel swayed as if caught in a gust of wind, the carvings so lifelike that I could almost smell the floral aroma. I found myself assigning colors to them: buttery yellow speckled with loud fuchsia. Violet dotting the way.

A memory stirred, of sitting on a rock shelf above such a meadow, a similar array of flowers stretching away into the soft afternoon sun. Austin had sat beside me, easy and comfortable, a feast of meats and fruits and cheeses displayed in front of us, a crate of wine to one side. He’d given me the perfect date, as he’d set out to do.

“You’re choosing his side,” I said to Ivy House. Usually her wooden carvings were of battle and death and heads on spikes or, if she was feeling less vicious, magical creatures in fantastical situations. She’d never displayed such a pretty, mundane scene. She always, however, liked to poke the bear and create images that would mess with me in some way.

“Yes.”

Understanding dawned. “You knew this was going on, and you didn’t mention it…”

“Obviously. I’ve been dormant for much too long. All of the guardians have. I need you alive, and the magical link gives them the ability to keep you safe. This was always in your best interest. Any magical person would’ve known that.”

“Which I’ve acknowledged. My arrangement with Austin was a bit different, though. I trusted him to be honest, and he purposely deceived me. I have every right to be pissed.”

“By all means. Kick his head in. Just don’t kill him. I need him. He’s the best chance you have at long-term survival. Above all others, above the mage that came earlier today, Austin is the man that I need the most. That you need. So give him hell, but let him explain. Unless his explanation is bad. Then let him use his mouth in other ways that will be much more enjoyable than talking.”

I frowned at her. She was entirely too focused on getting me laid.

“I will get to the root of that link so I control it from my end.”

“I don’t doubt you. Ultimately, that power is yours above mine. Above theirs. If you’d just put your big-girl pants on and do the blood oath, you’d realize that the links you share are as much for them as they are for you. If they are ever in trouble, you will need those links to find them. To save them. You are a team, and you are stronger together.”

“I don’t need to give blood to want to save my crew if they are in trouble. That’s a given.”

“Then why are you so hesitant to take the oath?”

A wave of unease washed through me, the price tag of forever weighing on me heavily. When Ivy House started making chicken sounds—“bawk, bawk, bawwwwwk”—I cut off the communication. She could be insufferable.

Reemerging into reality, I realized Edgar was talking, and likely had been the whole time I was communicating with the house.

“Yes, a real vampire. I’m one of the oldest alive.” He smiled, his canines long and gruesome. “Usually when a vampire is turned out of their clan for being too old, they are hunted for sport and killed for fun. I found Ivy House, though. They don’t think I’m great sport for some reason.”

“Probably because you keep asking to be retired,” Mr. Tom said. “It’s no fun when the prey asks for it.”

Retired meant killed permanently. Every time Edgar made a mistake, which was pretty often, he insisted that I kill him. It would’ve been a running joke if he didn’t actually mean it.

“What was in that soda?” Jimmy asked softly. “I feel like I’m on acid or something.” He rubbed his eyes, watching the wooden tableau move and shift, less like wooden carvings and more like a TV screen.

“Shall we?” Mr. Tom put his fingers on the buttons of his jacket, awaiting my directions. “I want to bring in Master Jimmy’s things and get his room set up.”

“Just call him Jimmy, Mr. Tom. And yes, that’s fine. Edgar…” I motioned for him.

Edgar puffed into a swarm of insects.

“Holy—” Jimmy staggered backward. “What just happened? Seriously, was there something in that soda? Did I take an edible and not know it?”

So my son had tried edibles and hallucinogens—that was something I could’ve gone my whole life happily not knowing.

After a deep breath, I motioned for Mr. Tom to hurry up.

A hidden door popped open down the way, Ivy House wanting to show off her stuff as well.