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I fidget, frustration crawling over my skin. “Goddess above, Carver. Do something already.”

He sighs. A sound that I swear I’ve memorized for how often he does it in my presence. “Your brain, much like your mouth, never stops.”

“Okay, rude.”

Carver’s fingers brush over the shells of my ears, and the noises cease.

“What are you doing?” I can’t hear my own voice, let alone every other sound I was keeping track of.

{{To shield your mind . . .}} Carver’s words flit through my mind, not so much a sound as an impression. {{You need to know how to block everything else out.}}

Will he be able to hear me if I speak back? It’s worth a shot. {{And how do I block you out?}} I swear I can feel his annoyance prickling over my brain.

{{That’s what we’re working on. Tell me what you feel now that you can’t see or hear.}}

The answer comes instantly. {{Relief.}}

He hums inside my head, as if that tells him something, but he doesn’t explain what. {{To shield your mind, you need to think about building a barrier around it. Most people use a literal wall.}}

A wall? Seriously? That’s his grand solution?

{{Just try it.}}

With my lips pressed together, I conjure the image of a block in my mind. It wobbles as I set it down. Before I can pick up another, Carver whispers my name and the brick spirals out of reach.

{{Asshole! I wasn’t ready.}}

{{Demons won’t wait until you’re ready.}}

Exhaling hard, I call up the image of another brick and set it down. I wait for Carver to do something to fuck with me. When he doesn’t, I start laying them down one by one. Another after another until I have half a wall. Six feet wide and three feet tall. Even though I’m not physically lifting them, my muscles are heavy and tired.

{{This is exhausting.}}

{{Well, I don’t know why you’re doing it one brick at a time.}}

Irritation flares. {{Why didn’t you tell me I could do it a different way?}}

{{I was enjoying watching you struggle.}}

With an annoyed huff, I rip the blindfold off and hurl daggers at him with my gaze.

He reaches up and brushes his fingers over my ears.

Sound rushes back. I school my expression when everything in me wants to cringe away from the noise.

Carver watches me, like he knows how hyperaware I am. “Work on building your wall. Next time, I want you to have it up and ready by the time you get to the door.”

{{Understood?}}

If it keeps him and Drake out of my head, absolutely.

“All I’m saying is, what do the humans have to be thankful for?” Bree holds the door for us as we leave the cafetorium. “Seriously, every year they have this celebration in the United States, and I’m like, for what? For the five rich families controlling everything? For capitalism, while some lie at home in desperate need of a doctor, but they can’t go because it’ll cost too much?”

Thanksgiving is strictly a human holiday, and while I’d love some time off, we won’t get a break until the end of December. We don’t celebrate Christmas, but paranorms have their own version of gift giving to welcome in the new year.

“I think the humans are happy to be alive?” Eli offers.

“Well, the murder rate suggests otherwise⁠—”