After I said my belated hellos to Mr. Wong, the departed Asian man hovering in the corner of my living room, I sat at my kitchen table and listened to the men’s shallow panting as they all tried to heal. But I couldn’t get the image of the beasts out of my head. I had never been so scared of something I could barely see. In an effort to take my mind off them, I picked up my phone, called Cookie at the office, and broke down, sobbing, until she finally hung up on me, locked the doors, and rushed over with Belvedere slopping in his fishbowl to get the story firsthand.

As the guys slept, I also called Uncle Bob over. The three of us sat at my tiny kitchen table, watching Belvedere do the dance of his people as I quickly and quietly explained everything that had happened. Through tears of shock and grief, I fought past my stupor and told them about the man who had attacked me, his horrific death, and the fact that I’d gone to the Dealer’s house. How the Dealer had burned my clothes trying to protect me. How we went back and were attacked again. And I told them about the Twelve. They had a right to know. If I was going to bring them into this, into my life, they had a right to know everything. I’d considered looping in the captain since he now knew more about me than most, but decided to leave that up to Ubie. The bottom line was, we had a dead body on our hands. A missing dead body, but a dead body nonetheless.

“Would they —? Would the Twelve hound beast things have taken the body?” Cookie asked, her expression grave as she held my hand.

“I have no idea.” I sobbed into a paper towel, as I was out of tissues. Shopping for the mundane was never my strong suit. “I’m sorry,” I said, blowing my nose for the fifteenth time. “I think I’m hormonal.”

“You’re suicidal,” Ubie said, his ire rising. “Why the hell did that bastard take you back to the asylum after what happened the first time?”

“Trust me, Uncle Bob, the last place Reyes wanted me to go was back inside. He was a tad angry. But you can’t go there,” I said, handing him the license I’d found in the freezer. “This is the guy who attacked me, but he was really after Reyes. Either way, you can’t go there. Promise me.”

“Pumpkin, that’s a crime scene.”

“Not if you don’t tell anyone.”

He bit back a curse.

“Ubie,” I said, leaning forward, pleading, “you can’t go in there and you can’t send anyone in there. You could be sending them to their deaths. The only reason Reyes and the Dealer are alive is because of their heritage.”

“Is that what you call it? Their heritage?”

“Uncle Bob, I’m not kidding. These beasts are like nothing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot.”

After a long, thoughtful moment, he drew in a deep breath of resignation. “I’ll run a background on this guy, see what I can dig up, and let you know.”

“Thank you. Are you going to tell the captain?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to think about it.”

“I’m so sorry to put you in this position.”

“Pumpkin,” he said, taking my hand, “this is not on you. You’re not like us, and we all know it. I’m just glad I can be here when you need me.”

I was taken aback by his admission, and the waterworks flowed again. I lunged forward and hugged him. “Thank you.”

“I like him,” Cookie said, nodding toward the kid sleeping on Sophie, my couch.

I kissed Ubie’s cheek, then released him. “You like all kids.”

“Not my own,” she said, teasing.

“I heard that.” Amber, Cookie’s offspring, had come in and was standing behind me.

“Oh, I had no earthly idea you were there.” Cookie winked at me as Amber started scouring my cabinets. “How was school?”

“You know those days where you wish the earth would open up and swallow your teachers whole?” she began. Then her gaze landed on the sleeping beauty sprawled across Sophie. His shoulder-length black hair splayed across a throw pillow, and an arm was covering half his face, but those didn’t detract from the fact that he was gorgeous. Her gaze slowly meandered toward the other sleeping beauty set up in the recliner. Then she rose onto her toes and could just see into my bedroom, where the third sleeping beauty lay resting.

“Is Reyes okay?” she whispered, worried and wondering what had happened. I could feel curiosity rise like a tide within her.

“He’ll be fine,” I replied.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you go raid our own cabinets? Aunt Charley’s food is dangerous. It has green fuzzy stuff on it.”

“Not on my Twizzlers,” I protested.

“Um, okay,” she said, her gaze latching back on to the Dealer and staying there. “Can I bring you anything? Crackers? Coconut water? Bubble gum?”

I almost laughed, but couldn’t quite get past my stupor enough to do it. And I’d even showered for the third time that day, but my mottled senses refused to bounce back to their state of stasis: extreme ADHD.

“We’re good, hon,” Cookie said. “You run along.”

“Okay, but don’t forget about my carnival. You guys have to come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I told her as she hugged me good-bye. After she left, I asked Cook, “She’s joined the circus? I had no idea.”

“No. Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to go.”