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I stared at the broken front door, then spotted Peanut Butter asleep on the couch. At least he was safe. Not roaming the hall, lost.

Beau followed us through, arms filled with books that he carried to the kitchen table for Ivan, who trailed behind him like a little duckling with his own giant stack.

Something nagged at the back of my brain. I was forgetting something. But what? I was so fucking tired. And we’d just walked through a door that now existed beside the kitchen pantry, leading to a magic cottage between worlds, rooted where I was pretty certain all life began.

If I focused too hard, dizzying lines of color wrapped around the apartment, and I swayed. Magic, maybe. Wards? Perhaps something else. We were standing in our apartment, and Jude held me, one hundred percent solid.

“What happened to the front door?” Jude asked.

“Xavier,” I grumbled, glancing over my shoulder like the demigod might magically reappear. He didn’t. Likely they were all still hanging around the park, pissed that I’d vanished into the brush.

Ivan flinched at the name. Beau put his hand beside the frame of the broken door, and the wood reknit, stronger, older for a blinking heartbeat, then shimmering back to the neutral door it had always been.

“Good as new,” Beau said. “I strengthened the wards, too.” His gaze landed on Ivan with concern, then narrowed.

Ivan threw his hands up. “I’m going to sleep. I promise. Books will wait for tomorrow.”

“Sleep and food,” Beau repeated like a mantra. “For all of you.”

“I’m a ghost,” Jude protested. “We don’t need sleep.”

“You’re partially a ghost.” Beau headed for the new door beside the pantry. It reflected the sitting area of his cottage, Zhenjun was thankfully gone, and so was the tray of cookies. Had the raccoon eaten them all? Or the Marshal? “The more you push yourself, the faster your remains wither.”

“That would have been nice to know weeks ago!” Jude complained.

Crap, I was tired. I needed at least a few hours of sleep before I could sort out the mush of my brain. But if I closed my eyes, would he be gone?

I clung to Jude, needing him close.

“Perhaps your mentor isn’t aware since he’s already long passed?” Beau shrugged. “Rest.” He left, closing the door behind him. It shifted, appearing as a closet door from the outside. I longed to open it and check that it still led to some magical place beyond.

“I’ve been feeling fucked without lube a lot these days,” Jude grumbled as he dragged me toward the bedroom. “Ivan, sleep,” he commanded.

“That’s the plan,” Ivan agreed, vanishing into his room with Peanut Butter and Nox in tow.

Which meant I had Jude all to myself. I was perfectly fine with that. If only I could scrape together an ounce of energy to enjoy it.

He guided me to the bed. I collapsed onto the mattress, too exhausted to care about anything except the solid weight of him beside me. He pulled me close, and I buried my face in his neck and breathed him in. He smelled like a library and woodsmoke and something green and growing. Most of all he smelled like him. Like skin, and salt, and life.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I mumbled into his skin.

“I’m not,” he said.

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

I let my eyes close. Just for a second. Just to feel him solid and real and here.

His arms tightened around me. His breath warmed my hair. The bed creaked softly as he shifted, pulling me closer.

And for the first time in weeks, I slept.

I roused to the sound of voices in the apartment and the gnawing growl of my stomach as the scent of bacon wafted my way. My face was shoved into Jude’s pillow, breathing in the scent of him. A scent I’d been chasing for weeks since losing him, and now⁠—

I sat up, clutching it, cramming my nose into the fluff to savor the smell.

“Uh, self-suffocation is a bad way to go.” Jude’s voice from the doorway made me jump, which was unusual since I should have heard him coming. Oh right, ghost... but not?