Not with people like me.
Runaway bird-girls with more bite than sense.
I run my fingers over the braid again.
It shouldn't make me feel safer.
It absolutely does.
A few minutes later I've cleaned the scratch on my collarbone and washed the dried blood from my earlobe.
My eyes still look enormous in the mirror—bruised and slightly feral—but I decide to leave the feather where it is.
Just for today.
It's ridiculous.
Which somehow makes me love it even more.
When I wander back into the kitchen, Theo is telling a story about a haunted trampoline while Trent listens with the patience of a saint supervising kindergarten.
Alaric is gone.
Waiting for me on the counter is a plate of toast drizzled with honey.
One perfect blueberry sits proudly in the middle.
I stare at it.
Honey.
One blueberry.
I don't know how I know...
...but I'm absolutely certain this was Alaric.
Nobody else would think one blueberry counts as decoration.
I smile before I can stop myself.
This is becoming a problem.
After breakfast the house settles into the lazy hush of late morning.
I curl into one end of the sofa with another mug of coffee, watching dust drift through the sunlight like tiny wandering ghosts.
Trent is reading a paperback upside down, which I'm ninety percent sure is just showing off.
Theo is furiously arguing with someone online about whether ghosts can legally own property.
I decide not to ask.
Alaric returns just before noon wearing a black T-shirt that's a size too small and bandages that someone else clearly applied.
Judging by the aggressively crooked tape...
Theo.