Page 13 of Demon’s Snack

She steps closer, her expression sharpening. “Your glamour is fraying at the temples too.”

“Rude of it.”

“What happened?”

I look at her, and for one miserable second, I consider lying properly. Not the small evasions we trade as family currency, but the kind of lie designed to hold a door shut. Then I remember Corin Ardyn, a certified idiot, standing at a noble estate window with his soul trying to climb out of his body because a woman looked back at him.

Sable has earned better than that.

“I felt a pull,” I say.

Her face changes before she can stop it.

Not shock. Recognition.

My stomach drops. “You know what that means.”

“I know what it might mean.”

“Sable.”

“What did it feel like?”

“Like something hooked me behind the ribs and dragged me halfway across town. Like every sensible thought I had got evicted for nonpayment. Like my blood decided it had an appointment and forgot to consult me.”

Her throat moves as she swallows. “Where did it take you?”

“To a dark elf estate.”

She closes her eyes briefly, which is exactly the kind of calm reaction that makes me want to climb out a window. “Naturally.”

“There was a woman inside.”

Sable opens her eyes.

I rub both hands over my face, careful not to touch too close to the glamour. “Human. Young. Ledger desk. Looked like she belonged there only because leaving would require permission from someone awful.”

“And when you saw her?”

I try to answer lightly, but the words get caught on the memory of her eyes lifting to mine. “Everything went sideways.”

Sable reaches for the back of a chair and grips it. “Did you touch her?”

“No.”

“Did you enter the house?”

“No.”

“Did anyone threaten her?”

“No.”

She studies me too closely. “Then why do you look like you’re waiting for blood to come out of your mouth?”

“Because I wanted to touch her.”

The confession lands between us with more force than I expect. Sable does not flinch, but her fingers tighten around the chair.