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"He stood in my yard the night my son was hurt knowing she sold us out," Alex continued, his voice maddeningly calm. "That somebody has eaten at my table and never thought to mention this to me."

The room grew colder. Only a few degrees, but it was enough to pool dread in my stomach.

"Alex…"

"I'm not asking you to answer for him, kiddo. I'm not going to shout, and I'm not putting him out. I've had a very long day, and apparently I've reached the age where I'm too tired to be surprised by people keeping things from me because they've decided I'm better off not knowing."

"I'm sure there is an explanation…"

"I'm sure there is."

The words stopped me.

The motel heater rattled to life, ran for four seconds, and surrendered.

"Now," Alex continued with a sigh in an entirely different voice, "my question. Then you're telling me about your day, because Amber has made enough lasagna to feed a small country and wants to know whether she should freeze some or you are coming for dinner."

I pulled the sheet tighter around myself. "Go ahead, ask."

"Are you all right?"

The answer surged automatically when I stopped myself from uttering it. My mouth was already forming the words when I looked around the room.

My mother's tin sat on the credenza with her handwriting folded inside it. Beside it rested a library book twenty-four years overdue and a key I still didn't know how to use. Somewhere on a supernatural network, my name had been sanctioned for anyone willing to come after me. In the back of my mind was a cold place where a seven-year-old girl had once stood in a cinnamon-scented kitchen, and behind me sat a fallen angel whose mother had never reached the River of Souls.

The word yes died before it reached my tongue.

"No."

Silence stretched over the line. Then Alex exhaled. "Good. Tell me about it."

I pressed the heel of my hand against one eye.

Lesson number thirty-two: the people who actually love you don't ask so you can say yes. They ask so you can finally say no.

So, I talked.

For forty minutes, I gave Alex everything I could. Charon and his price tag. My mother arriving at the river with nothing left to pay. The Fae at the truck stop, the two houses, Destin standing on a threshold he refused to cross, the mark older than four alphabets, and the three words somebody had posted beneath my sanction without a name.

I did not tell him what had happened in the motel before I called.

He didn't ask, which probably meant he figured it out within nine seconds. Alex had raised four children. There were some battles even I knew better than to fight with him.

When I finally ran out of words, he stayed quiet long enough that I checked the screen to make sure the call hadn't dropped.

"Nine days," he said.

I leaned back against the bedpost. "Until Danika's contract comes due. Yeah."

"And she still hasn't decided what to do." He sounded as incredulous as I felt.

"That's what she told me."

Another pause followed, but this one felt different.

"Hazel, I've known your grandmother for a very long time. I've watched that woman make decisions that would turn your hair white without so much as blinking. She's had a fortnight and every reason in the world to choose herself, and she still hasn't."

I stared at the motel wall. "As far as we know. I don't know what to do with that."