“Tho—” Mom began.

The door opened. Voices drifted in.

“I’m sorry, sir,” someone in the hall said. “But they aren’t permitted to join the proceedings.”

“They aren’t joining.” Sean’s voice. I exhaled in relief. “They’re here as observers. Ms. Michaels is a delegate—”

“I understand, sir, but we don’t allow her … kind—”

“The word is werewolf.” Clay’s southern drawl. “It’s okay. You can say it. It won’t bite.”

“There is a council delegate on trial,” Sean said. “Ms. Michaels is here to represent Adam Vasic and the council—”

The door closed, muting their voices. I caught just enough to realize they weren’t going to permit a werewolf in the hearing, and there were no provisions that required a council delegate to be present when another one was on trial.

Finally, Elena cut in, her voice raised enough for me to hear it. “We’ll wait out here, Sean. There’s no rule against that, right?”

The agent agreed that there wasn’t.

“Then we’ll stay here,” she said. “Where we can hear everything.”

I smiled. The agent sputtered, but there was nothing he could do. His own fault for not bothering to know enough about werewolves to realize they’d be able to hear from the hall.

I sat back and waited. Sean was here. Elena and Clay were here. Lucas was coming. It would be fine. It had to be.

TWENTY-THREE

When Sean came in, Thomas got to his feet. His gaze was wary, but there was no mistaking the sudden spark of warmth.

“Sean,” he said. “How was your flight? I’m sorry you had—”

“Bryce isn’t doing so well, Granddad. Thanks for asking. And thanks for calling to check on him. He appreciates that.”

“I—”

“You’ve been busy.” Sean walked toward his grandfather. “The supernatural world is going to hell. Demonic spirits are breaking through everywhere. A hell-beast materialized in the New York subway. Supernaturals are racking up body counts faster than the demons and hell-beasts combined. Of course you’re too busy to check on Bryce. Yet somehow, with all this, you’ve decided you can take a break to put my sister on trial for treason.”

Treason? What? How?

“Miss Levine is not your sis—”

“She is!” Sean roared, making everyone draw back. Most had probably never even heard him raise his voice. “I’m told there’s a special escape route from this building secured by locks requiring Nast blood. Her blood opened them.”

“Don’t bother, Sean,” Mom said. “He can’t hear you. Won’t hear you.”

Sean turned. He saw my mother and blinked. “Eve.”

She walked over and put her arm around him, leaning in to whisper, “Your dad sends his love. Always.” Then she turned to Thomas. “Are you going to look at me now?”

He sat first, then slowly lifted his gaze. When his eyes reached hers, his face stayed immobile.

“Been a long time, hasn’t it?” she said. “Twenty-two years since our little chat.”

“We’ve never met—”

“Oh, cut the crap.” She stepped up to his table. His bodyguards kept their positions, but everyone else inched back as she swept aside the pages in front of him and planted her hands on the surface. “You remember that chat. You threatened to—” She stopped. Almost imperceptibly, she turned toward Sean.

“You scared me off,” she said after a moment. “I let you scare me off. I was young and I was stupid, and I let you screw up my life and Kristof’s life and our daughter’s life, and I’ve never forgiven you for that. I don’t care if you acknowledge Savannah or not. She doesn’t need you. But you are going to let her leave. Savannah and Adam will walk out that door, and you can keep me in their place and—”

A soft, metallic tinkle. The wire binding her sword had fallen to the floor. “About time, ladies,” Mom muttered as she reached back for her sword. “Strike that. Maybe I won’t stick around, Thomas. You’ll let me go and—”

She shimmered. Not just the sword, but her whole body.

“No,” she whispered. She looked up. “No!”

She shimmered again, almost fading completely before coming back, midsentence. “Give me five minutes—” Her gaze shot to mine, and I ran to her, ignoring the shouts of the guards.

Then she was gone.

Just gone.

I knew it had been coming, but it felt as if someone had slammed me in the gut. It was like every time I’d pictured her death. I’d never known what happened, but I’d imagined it, in all the ways a daughter could torture herself with thoughts of her mother’s murder. Yet nothing I’d imagined had felt as horrible as this moment. This moment when she was here. And then she wasn’t.

Adam got to me first, pulling me into his shoulder. I let myself collapse against him, not sobbing, not even crying, but wishing I could, the grief just building.

“Let Savannah go,” Sean said to Thomas, his voice low. “Please, Granddad, just let her go. Eve said she’s not going to fight you about recognizing Savannah. I’m not either. Not anymore. Eve was right. You don’t want to see it so you won’t see it. Just let her go. Let it all go.”

I lifted my head. Thomas wasn’t looking at me. Wasn’t looking at Sean. He was staring straight ahead at the spot where my mother had stood. He looked tired. Old and tired and frail, and I knew he didn’t want to do this anymore either.

Sean stepped in front of him. “I’m going to take her out of here, Granddad.” As he turned toward me, Josef broke the silence.

“She can’t just walk away. She participated in a terrorist act against the Cabal and she must face those charges—”

“Oh for God’s sake.” Sean spun on his uncle. “Nobody believes that but you, Josef, and you’re just trying to screw me over by putting Savannah on trial—”

“Mr. Nast is right.” It was one of the men in suits. The lawyer from the intra-Cabal agency. “The charges have been laid. Unless Mr. Nast wishes to formally withdraw them …” Everyone looked at Thomas. Finally he looked at me, and it was as if he’d looked into the eyes of a basilisk. He slowly but irrevocably turned to stone. “No,” he said. “I do not wish to withdraw the charges.”