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“It’s okay, Uncle,” Ian said flatly. “I like it this way.”

Adam woke.

It wasn’t with a start this time. He didn’t shout, just quietly settled back into consciousness. It was now. He was in the apartment. Safe. Ian wasn’t born yet. There was still time.

Vic was beside him, a warm presence, his breathing steady. They’d fallen asleep here, stretched out, naked together. At some point one of them had pulled the covers over them.

At the foot of the bed, Spider lifted his head and met Adam’s gaze. The cat slowly blinked at him a few times as if to settle him, before he lowered his head and went back to whatever dreams psychopomps dreamed.

Adam let out a long breath, but it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest.

He understood his dreams now, what his Sight was trying to show him.

He’d vowed to protect Ian, he’d screamed it at whatever lurked in the Between, whatever the banshee feared, whatever everyone sensed was coming, but to sever Ian’s magic might be worse than killing him. It certainly would be the end of Adam. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he broke that little boy.

He had to find another way.

17

The door chime went off when Adam walked into the antique mall, but neither Betty nor Bill were behind the counter. There weren’t any customers. Maybe they were on a lunch break. Maybe they were dealing with a disturbance on the other side, or maybe they were making out in the back office.

Adam hoisted up the duffel bag of protein bars he’d brought and cautiously made his way through the curtain to the Night Market.

The stars twinkled with distant laughter. Shoppers haggled at the stalls. Vendors hawked their wares. A dwarf in a set of teddy bear onesie pajamas flipped Adam off for staring, which he probably deserved for not minding his business, but something felt off.

Adam strode on, making his way toward Wendy and Joey’s booth.

A group of Lost Ones surrounded it. They looked like a rough bunch. Some were dressed in the green khaki he associated with army surplus, though from the dated look of their gear they might once have been actual soldiers.

Wendy hovered above the counter, arms at her sides, fists clenched, staring them down.

Adam scanned for the ogres, hoping the presence of security would defuse the tension in the air, but they were nowhere to be seen. That was what was missing. The ogres.

“Just give us whatever you have and we’ll leave,” the guy closest to Wendy said.

Adam recognized him from the graveyard. It was the miner. Eighties guy was there too.

“What’s going on?” Adam asked.

Behind the counter, Joey looked scared. If the rapid shiver of her wings was any indication, Wendy was simply pissed and up for a fight.

“They’re holding out on us,” the miner said.

“You know, I never caught your name.” Adam spoke calmly, trying to sound friendly. With a twinge, he missed his sword. “You’re Lily’s friend.”

“You can’t have it,” the miner snarled.

“I’m Carl,” the eighties guy offered.

The miner jabbed a finger at Wendy. “We need food and medicine. Hand it over.”

Wendy clicked her teeth at him.

“Lily’s sick,” Carl explained to Adam. “She needs something to eat.”

“We’re not a charity,” Wendy snapped. “Pay or trade. Them’s the rules.”

“I’ve got some food you can have,” Adam said.