Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            She nods.

            “Does your cat happen to be gray? Long hair? Smushed face?”

            “Yes. Her name is Sparkles.”

            Oh, fuck. “First of all, he’s a boy.”

            She blinks at me. “His name is Sparkles, then.”

            “No, his name is Serena’s damn fucking cat.”

            Ana’s expression is pitying.

            “And he’s actually my cat.” Serena’s. Whatever.

            “I don’t think so.”

            “You do realize that he arrived when I did.”

            “But he sleeps with me.”

            Ah. So that’s where he disappears to all the time. “That’s just because he hates me.”

            “Then maybe he’s not your cat,” she says, with the delicate somberness of a therapist who’s letting me know that I don’t have a diagnosable disorder, I’m just a bitch.

            “You know what? I don’t care. It’s between you and Serena.”

            “Who’s Serena?”

            “My friend.”

            “Your best friend?”

            “I only have the one, so . . . yeah?”

            “My best friend is Misha. She has red hair, and she’s the daughter of my brother’s best friend, Cal. And Juno is her aunt. And she has a little brother, his name is Jackson, and a little sister, and her name—”

            “This is not The Brothers Karamazov,” I interrupt. “I don’t need the family tree.”

            “—is Jolene,” she continues, undeterred. “Where is Serena?”

            “She . . . I’m trying to find her.”

            “Maybe my brother can help you? He’s real good at helping people.”

            I swallow. I just can’t with children. “Maybe.”

            She studies me for several seconds. “Are you like Lowe?”

            “I’m not sure what you mean, but no.”

            “He doesn’t sleep, either.”

            “I do sleep. Just during the day.”

            “Ah. Lowe doesn’t sleep. At all.”

            “Never? Is it a Were thing? An Alpha thing?”

            She shakes her head. “He has pneumonia.”

            Seriously? When did he get it? He seemed healthy to me. Maybe for Weres, pneumonia is not a big— “Wait!” I call when I see Ana heading for the window. “How about you go through the door?”

            She doesn’t even stop to say no.

            “It would be more fun. You could stop by Lowe’s room on your way,” I offer. Because if this child dies, it’s on me. “Say hi. Hang out.”

            “He’s not here. He’s gone to deal with the lollipops.”

            I trail after her. “With the lollipops.”

            “Yes.”

            “There’s no way he is dealing with— Do you mean the Loyals?”

            “Yes. The lollipops.” She’s already climbing upward, and spider monkey doesn’t even begin to describe how agile she is. But still.

            “Don’t. Come back! I . . . forbid you from continuing.”

            She keeps scaling. “You’re a Vampyre. I don’t think you can tell me what to do.” She sounds more matter-of-fact than bratty, and all I can think of replying is:

            “Shit.”