I didn't get out of bed that evening or even the second. My days followed a predictable schedule. Eat, drink, sleep, repeat. I'd been able to wobble on unsteady legs to the bathroom with Thomas' help, which saved me the indignity of a bedpan or catheter, but I was a long way from peak performance. That could take another month or two, at least.

Unacceptable. I'd made a promise to my mother. I'd bring Daniel home. What state he'd be in when I did was another issue entirely. So I'd set about trying to take inventory of the damage Lara had left in her wake. With deep meditation, I'd been able to contact the Council of Molly, which hadn't been especially helpful. Everyone but my id was on Thomas' side, urging me to take a little time to rebuild. Much like my too-intimate contact with Lasciel's true form, my ability to feel was stunted. The id and I saw that as a plus, but my reason had helpfully pointed out it was a good way to get myself killed. I could take a hit that would strip my sanity, and who would save Daniel then? She was right. That didn't mean I liked it. I'd kick their asses until I saw results. A little tough love might encourage them to work faster.

At least one part of my brain had been completely unscathed, protected by nothing short of a SEAL team of the best the Council had to offer. It had to be the panic room my id had scooped out during Lasciel's occupation. But when I tried to breach it, my own subconscious had ousted me. I'd only gotten a brief glimpse at the doors. A pair of letters had been carved into the steel. F and P. Even days later, I had no clue what they stood for. Fire escape? Panic room? Fuck this, please get me out?

The line between meditation and sleep was thin at the best of times, and after being forcibly ejected, I didn't have the will to keep my eyes open. Even though it was still early morning outside my window, I sank into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I finally swam my way back to consciousness, the light outside my window had waned, muted orange and gold casting long shadows across the spare room. I had a nightstand, a small bathroom, a lamp, and a bed, and that was more than I'd expected. Some safehouses only had crawlspaces.

I'd recovered enough to ditch the IV, so I didn't have to lean on the stand when I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tottered forward. My knees were wobbly, threatening to give at the slightest provocation. Fine tremors ran through my hands. I hadn't been able to hold my sword for more than a minute and hadn't fared much better with a gun. It chaffed like hell to admit, even to myself, that Thomas would be undertaking the mission alone.

I paused on the threshold, leaning on the door frame to steady myself. A low murmur of voices drifted to me from the kitchen, both speaking English. The Herrero family only spoke Spanish, which meant we had a visitor. A female visitor, by the sounds of it, and the tone and inflection were somehow...familiar.

"Our intelligence has completely gone to shit," she muttered. A fork scraped across a plate. They were having dinner. Something heavy on the onion and peppers. "I'm sure you understand. You saw some of the devastation with your own eyes. The oldest just...withered away. We lost almost ninety percent of our network overnight. It took a while to track down what you were looking for."

"I understand. Where are they keeping Daniel?"

My ears perked at the sound of his name. If the woman had information about my brother's whereabouts, she was from the Fellowship of Saint Giles. And if she was from the Fellowship, there was only one person the familiar voice could belong to.

Hannah Ascher.

My hands spasmed around the door frame, irrational fear streaking through me. Hannah was sitting in the Herrero's kitchen, talking to Thomas. She must have gotten tired of waiting for me. My knees gave when the full implication of what she'd said sank home. With the Red King dead, every vampire who'd been half-turned would have been freed from the vampire's tainted blood. So many of them had been fighting for a century or more. When the years piled on...God, it had to have been devastating to watch. I hadn't been there. I hadn't weathered it with her. I'd failed her again.

I fought the cowardly urge to slink back to bed, close my eyes, and pretend I hadn't heard. She deserved better than that. Time to face the music. I took slow, unsteady steps forward, still listening intently.

"They've set up a temporary shelter in a warehouse on the outskirts of Guadalupe. They seem to be heading north with a select few prisoners, and one of them might be Daniel. The working theory is that they're being trafficked, but we don't know where or two whom. The best course of action would be an ambush at the border. The exchange is the most vulnerable time in any sale."

She'd know. We'd freed human trafficking victims as a matter of course. The Reds shipped them to all corners of Central and South America to supplement the native supply. Sometimes they were turned into foot soldiers, but most of the time they were just food.

"What makes you sure it's that one?"

Her silverware clinked again, and she took a moment to chew before continuing. "Their goons are pretty distinctive, what with the gills and all. The conditions inside are colder and wetter than should be natural in this environment, and the locals avoid it almost unconsciously. I'd say someone's warded it against notice. Possibly with a light avoidance compulsion woven in. Trust me, they're in there. Whether they have your guy is a different story. I'm basing it on the number of people being moved. They're not minor players. Wizards, mostly, but there was at least one faerie in the mix too."

Thomas blew out a sharp breath through his nose. "It's a start, at least."

"I have a card with some of my remaining contacts. It should get you as far as Guadalupe. A few of them might fight with you. Good luck."

A chair scraped across the floor and Thomas' plate made a dull clanking sound when it hit the bottom of the sink. He ran the water for a few seconds, then sighed again.

"Take care of her, please," he asked in a softer voice. "Make sure she doesn't push herself too hard and don't share what you've learned. She'll try to follow me, and she's not fit to do battle with anything but breakfast right now."

Rude. True, but still rude.

"I'll take care of her," she promised. "Just like she took care of me. It's time I returned the favor."

Well, that was a little ominous. A more cynical soul could uncover a darker meaning under the oath. My paranoia talking or an accurate assessment of her motives? Only time would tell.

Thomas padded quietly through the house, gathering everything he'd need for a trip north. It didn't take long. He'd probably had a bug-out bag prepared for just this scenario. A few minutes later the front door closed, and the hush of evening fell over the house. Hannah and I were alone at last.

I dithered another few minutes, willing my feet to carry me forward. They remained stubbornly rooted to the floor. When I finally bullied myself into motion, I had to use the wall for support. My knees attempted mutiny a few times, but sheer, stupid determination kept me upright. I felt my way along the hall, stopping shy of the kitchen.

Hannah sat at the worn table, contemplating the remnants of her fajitas. She'd picked out the peppers. Odd for someone who used fire as a first, second, and last resort, but she didn't usually like spicy foods. It was a small thing, but it made my eyes itch with the desire to cry. She was here. It was really her. A little thinner and paler than she used to be, but still beautiful. Compared to me, she was a contender for Miss Universe. She'd pulled her long, wildly curling hair into a loose tail at the base of her neck, and was examining her plate with a thoughtful frown. She'd propped a cane against the table. So she was walking but still needed support.

I stepped on a loose board and wobbled in place. Her eyes flicked up at the sharp groan of the floor, intense dark eyes fixing on me. Emotion flickered across her face. Shock. Anger. Pity. Cautious hope. Neither of us said anything for a moment.

Hannah broke the silence first with a flippant, "Well, you look like hell."

I laughed. "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot."

She glanced at the door, scowling. "Did that vampire do this to you?"

"His sister, actually. And I asked her to, so no arson please."

Hannah's brows climbed. "You asked her to?"

I pushed off the wall, careful not to trip on one of the home's many area rugs. They bunched, which usually sent me hurtling toward the ground face-first. Thomas wasn't here to catch me before I broke something. I stopped when I was a few feet away from her.

"It's a long story," I said.

"We've got time," she said, lips quirking into the ghost of a smile. She motioned broadly at the chair. "Sit and eat. Then I want to hear everything."