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the air for any sign of Cain.
    “All clear.” A slow stretch as she snarled a yawn. “One of these days, we’re actually going to complete an escape before we have sex.”
    “Why?”
    She laughed. “Why, indeed.”
    She started to slide off me, but I held her still, hands around her waist.
    “Not yet.”
    “Hmm.” Another stretch, her toes tickling my legs. “So when are you going to blast me?”
    “For taking off and running down alleys at midnight?”
    “Unless you slipped something past me in the wedding vows, I think I’m still entitled to go where I want, when I want. But do you really think I’d traipse down dark alleys in a strange city for a bottle of water? Why not just stick a flashing ‘mug me’ sign on my back?”
    “Well, you did seem a bit bored . . .”
    “Please. That mutt’s been following us since this morning. I was trying to get rid of him.”
    “What?”
    “Yes, I know, I should have warned you. I realized that later, but you worked so hard to plan our honeymoon, and I didn’t want this mutt ruining it. I thought I’d give him a good scare and send him packing before you noticed him sniffing around.”
    “Huh.”
    I tried to sound surprised. Tried to look surprised. But her gaze swung to mine, eyes narrowing.
    “You knew he was following us.”
    I shrugged, hoping for noncommittal.
    She smacked my arm. “You were just going to let me take the blame and keep your mouth shut, weren’t you?”
    “Hell, yeah.”
    Another smack. “That’s what you were doing at dinner, wasn’t it? Breaking his jaw. I thought it looked off, and I could swear I smelled blood when we were walking back from the restaurant.” She shook her head. “Communication. We should try it sometime.”
    I shifted, putting my arm under my head. “How about now? About this trip. You’re bored.” When she opened her mouth to protest, I put my hand over it. “You’re tired of St. Louis. There’s not a damned thing to do except hole up in our hotel room, run in the forest and hunt mutts—which, while fun, we could do anywhere. So I’m thinking, maybe it’s time to consider a second honeymoon.”
    She sputtered a laugh. “Already?”
    “I think we’re due for one. So how’s this? We pack, head home, see the kids for a couple of days, then take off again. Someplace where we can hole up, run in the forest and not have to worry about tripping over mutts. A cabin in Algonquin . . .”
    She leaned over me, hair fanning a curtain around us. “Wasn’t that where I suggested we go when you first asked?”
    “I thought you were just trying to make it easy on me. We can rent a cabin anytime. I wanted this to be different, special.”
    “It was special. I was stalked, chased, attacked . . . and I got to beat the crap out of a mutt twice my size.” She bent further, lips brushing mine. “A truly unique honeymoon from a truly unique husband.”
    She put her arms around my neck, rolled over and pulled me on top of her.



 
     
    Getting an audience with the Fates is like getting an invitation to tea with the queen. Most people in our world never receive one. To actually wrangle one yourself? Damn near impossible. Unless you’re me: Eve Levine—dark witch, half-demon, part-time ghost, part-time angel. I’m in their throne room so often they might as well install a revolving door. Most times, I’m getting hauled in and chewed out—a fake chewing out, as the Fates pretend to upbraid me for breaking some rule or other on a mission, while they’re really just relieved that someone got the job done. Which I do.
    Today, though, I’d requested the audience. So they were making me wait in their reception room, watching the mosaics subtly changing as the story of life and death played out on the walls. Finally, the floor turned and deposited me in the throne room, at the foot of the Fate’s dais.
    “I have a deal for you,” I said to the oldest Fate, as she snipped a length of life-yarn.
    “We’re