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“You need a news feed that isn’t book reviews and morally unstable fan art.”

“Rude.”

“Broken Halo. Old church turned demon club in Hollowside. Someone redecorated it with internal organs.”

My stomach tightened. “Painted the walls?”

“With people,” she said. “Hollowside lieutenants. Their enforcer. A bunch of idiots who were unlucky or stupid enough to be nearby.”

I stopped wiping.

Mandi leaned closer, voice dropping with the reverent horror of a woman who lived for gossip with casualties. “Witnesses said the music cut out mid-song. Lights died. People started screaming. Security cameras fried. No one saw who did it.”

“Lux?”

“His assassin, supposedly.” She made a face. “His shadow freak. Murder pet. Whatever they call him this week.”

The itch under my jaw returned.

“What time?”

“A little after eight last night.” Mandi’s thumb moved across her screen. “The official statement says interclan dispute. Which means ‘they stole from a man with a private army and a hobby problem.’”

Sam leaned over Mandi’s shoulder. “Hollowside had it coming. They’ve been skimming shipments for months.”

“You know that how?” I asked.

Sam blinked at me. “I have ears.”

“You have Daniel.”

“I have both. Very convenient.”

Mandi shoved her phone into her apron. “Anyway, if you planned to go clubbing there this weekend, terrible news. Find a different den of sin.”

“I’ll reschedule my sudden slutty era.”

“That’s the spirit.”

I laughed, because if I didn’t, I might think too hard. Thinking too hard led to patterns. Patterns led to panic. Panic led to me googling symptoms of mate-bond psychosis at two in the morning while eating cereal from the box. With no milk.

On break Mandi dragged me into the back and snatched my phone before I sat down.

“Show me the ward.”

I pulled up the photo. All amusement slid from her face. “Oh,” she said.

My stomach dropped. “Oh good or oh I need to move?”

“Neither.” She pinched the screen, studying the carved loops. “This is heavy work.”

“Define heavy in a way that won’t make me vomit.”

“It monitors the threshold.” She looked up at me. “Anyone coming in with plans to hurt you hits the ward first.”

“And then?”

“Depends on how nasty the caster felt.”