I frowned, wondering if Trent would mind being the size of a fairy for a day. He could talk to the newest tenants in his garden.

Sure, he had a wife and fifty-four kids, but he looked like a college freshman. A yummy college freshman majoring in Oh-my-god-I-gotta-get-me-some-of-that.

CINCINNATI MORGUE, AN EQUAL-OPPORTUNITY SERVICE SINCE 1966.

Piscary killed people, but he didn’t have the concept of pity or remorse. It would be like telling a shark he was a bad fish and to stop eating people. But Trent? He knew he was doing wrong, and he did it anyway.

I tried to breathe, failing. I clutched her to me, tears slipping from under my closed eyes. It was as if her soul was liquid fire and I could feel her aura, swirling about mine. She was taking my aura. But I wanted to give it to her, to cat her in a small part of me and protect her. Her needs made her so fragile.

Sweet mother of chaos," he breathed. "Rachel, you are indeed one of us. Have your time in the sun. You're worth the extra wait.

Good Lord, I thought, squinting at the bright glare of a late-July morning. No wonder I slept through this. It was noisy with shrieking birds, and already hot.