Page 107 of Soft Flannel Hank

“Someone in her bloodline. She never knows who. Only when they go.”

The keening was approaching a scream now. “You have to go,” Niamh gasped through clenched teeth.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” Nat growled.

“Don’t act like I haven’t been through this a hundred times without you since you left,” she said, panting before screaming again as if being tortured.

Nat froze. “Niamh,” he started, but she cut him off.

“I’ll live. But Esther might not.” Niamh sobbed again. “Go. Now!”

Nat held her tightly against him. Hank felt like he had been dropped into a movie scene in which he had never been meant to participate.

“Niamh, I can’t—“

“Go!” She screamed. “Get away from me right now, Nathaniel! Go help that woman. You’re no help to me.”

Nat stumbled to his feet and away from her. Hank laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and together they watched Niamh slide out of her chair and onto the floor, curling tightly into a ball as she screamed.

“Fuck this,” Nat said in a hoarse whisper, scooping Niamh into his arms. She fought him, but he only held her tighter against his chest as he stalked down the hallway and back to the bedroom.

In a moment, he was back, muttering, “At least I can make her comfortable.”

Hank felt frozen. Every protective instinct in his body was screaming at him to call an ambulance, or to drive Niamh to a hospital himself. People only screamed like that when something was seriously wrong. But he also knew that he was out of his depth and that neither Nat nor Niamh seemed shocked or concerned.

Nat brushed past him, grabbing Niamh’s keys off the butcher block counter and heading to the front door.

“We’re taking her car?” Hank asked, surprised.

“My truck doesn’t have a backseat.” Nat went on, “Besides, she’s not going anywhere.”

With that, he walked out of the door. Hank followed and stood by while Nat pulled out his own keys and locked the multiple deadbolts on the front door.

As they drove away from the house, Hank asked, “Will she be okay?”

Nat sighed heavily and nodded.

The follow-up question hung in the air like a sword overhead. “Will—willyoube okay?”

Nat looked at him as they pulled up to a stop sign at the end of his road. “That remains to be seen.”

* * *

Jory’s apartmentlooked exactly the way Esther had pictured it. Curated. Eclectic and yet clean at the same time. She would never be able to replay Jory for her kindness and help today. She had worked with Magda and Jamie to get Esther’s car into the auto shop where it had gone through a full tune up and gotten new tires since Esther was, as the mechanic said, one pothole away from all four “literally exploding.” Her little Prius was still at the shop, but the mechanic had agreed to meet her at first light with the keys.

“Anything for a friend of Jory’s,” he’d said with a wink.

And then she’d be gone. It was for the best. She’d have been on the road already, but she agreed with Jory and Magda that it was safest to only have to worry about this one day scout Callum had rather than a troop of vampires. So she was having a sleepover at Jory’s. Esther had helped Jory cook dinner and insisted on doing the dishes.

When she came out of the kitchen, Esther found Jory curled up under a blanket on her emerald-green velvet couch and working on her laptop.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Esther said.

“Sure,” Jory replied. “Towels are in the linen closet.”

Esther didn’t know when she’d next get to take an actual shower and so she had every intention of making the most of this one. She picked up her backpack, the only thing she’d brought inside, and went through Jory’s bedroom and into the bathroom, which was dark and moody, and also green. Esther opened the glass shower door and reached to turn on the water. She opened the linen closet and found a stack of fluffy, white towels.

Setting a towel on the vanity counter, Esther undressed. She leaned a hip against the closed door while she took off her socks. She unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down over her hips. She turned to face the mirror just as she pulled her sweatshirt over her head. Her stomach lurched.