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he mutters. “That will make it all worthwhile.”
    “Like blazes it will! If you’re really doing this for your daughter, then save yourself. I’m not responsible for your salvation!”
    “You may not have a choice,” he says with genuine regret and sincerity.
    It’s true. There’s nothing I can do for him. It pains me to admit it, but I might have to leave him in this tunnel to die in order to save Piper.
    “What’s behind this wall, Ms. Aberdeen?” she asks. I turn around to see where she’s looking.
    “If your dad’s right, that’s my brownstone.”
    “And is there anything in your house that can help him?”
    “There’s a first-aid kit with some surgical instruments. I can use those to dig the silver bullets out of your father. Then he should be able to heal by himself.”
    “What about your healing spells?” she asks.
    “I’m sorry, Piper, but those only work on me,” I tell her, feeling guilty about that fact.
    “Okay then.”
    Suddenly the eight-year-old isn’t a child anymore. She turns into something else. She grows a little taller, a little broader, and a lot furrier. The dress she’s been wearing all this time doesn’t split apart, but it does bulge with her inside.
    Trent’s eyes widen. “Baby girl. When did you—”
    “Don’t look at me, Daddy. I’m really hairy right now.”
    Piper punches the wall in front of her with a little fist. It sends a crack straight up through the brick.

5. When the Walls Crumble
    Piper makes short work of the wall. Once her little werewolf fist punches a hole through the surface, she tears through the surrounding bricks like toy blocks.
    Trent seems to rouse a little as he watches his daughter. There’s pride in his expression, despite how pale he looks. He doesn’t look quite so ready to give up anymore.
    I shoulder as much of Trent’s weight of as I can, which isn’t a lot, and help him onto his feet. He gets up and plods through the hole Piper created. We both have to duck, but Piper leads the way down a short tunnel. The flashlight reveals an old door.
    “Can you push it open, little cub?” Trent asks his daughter.
    “I’ll try,” she says.
    Piper manages to break the door seal, and even gets the doors open a little, but then it stops moving. She keeps pushing, until her feet slide on the ground beneath her.
    “It’s stuck.”
    It’s been nine months since I’ve been back here, but then it dawns on me. This must be the boarded-up door in my meditation room downstairs. I hid it behind an enormous wooden apothecary. The antique shelf weighs hundreds of pounds, especially when full.
    “There’s a giant cupboard in our way,” I tell them.
    “I can handle it,” Trent says, “but only if you help me, munchkin.”
    He walks over to the door, using the wall for support, and leans against it with his good shoulder. Piper mirrors what her father does.
    Still no luck.
    “Okay. Take your shoes off. Use your claws to grab the floor. Then push at the same time as me, okay?”
    “Okay, but don’t look at me any more than you have to!” she complains.
    “Why? You look adorable.”
    “I said don’t look!” Piper growls, which is even more adorable. She takes off her shoes and digs in like her father instructed.
    “Ready? On three. One. Two. Three!”
    Trent pushes with both legs. The good one and the wounded one. I can tell it hurts. He grits through the pain. This is all he has left, but fortunately it’s enough. The apothecary slides on the floor. Not a lot, but enough for all of us to squeeze through.
    “Let me go in first,” I tell them. “There are magical protections in place.”
    I step into my meditation room and immediately feel the magic ward that Candice and Saffron cast on my brownstone. It welcomes me like a familiar cocoon. So long as I’m the first to enter, the ward permits any guests with me at the time to do the same.
    The meditation room is one of the more austere parts of my apartment. I adorned it with one