We walked along the line. When we turned to head into the theater, a middle-aged woman stepped into my path.

“The line starts back there,” she said, pointing.

“No, actually, it starts right there.” I gestured to the front. “Which is where we’re going.”

As I circled past her, Adam whispered, “That’s why we’re supposed to go in the back door.”

“This makes me feel special. Right now, I really need to feel special.”

“You’ll feel really special when you’re fighting a lynch mob without your spells.”

“No, I’ll leave that to you. One spark, and with all that polyester, the whole mob will go up in flames.”

I walked to the glass doors and peered through. Inside I could see a few security guards.

Adam swung open the door and held it for me.

“Hey, Steve,” he said to a burly bald guy.

I didn’t recognize the guard, let alone know his name. Adam would say that’s why I needed to pay more attention. I’d point out that the guard didn’t recognize Adam either. His gaze had gone right to me, and he smiled.

“Savannah, right?” he said.

I nodded.

“I didn’t see you guys on the list,” Steve said, reaching for a clipboard on the podium.

“We aren’t,” I said. “It’s a surprise visit.”

“Sure. I’ll buzz Kat and have her take you to Jaime.”

I could have said that Jaime’s assistant really didn’t need to be playing guide an hour before curtain time. But this was a polite way of saying he needed confirmation before letting us in.

A few minutes later, a young woman with a clipboard, earpiece, and cotton-candy pink hair zoomed through the auditorium door.

“Hey, guys,” she said. “Good to see you. Come on through.”

We picked our way through a hive of buzzing workers. Kat alternated between barking orders and chatting with us. She knew Jaime had popped down to Portland to visit us, so she wasn’t surprised to see us here.

Actually, Jaime had come to check on me in the hospital, and relay her side of the events that had played out in Columbus. My mother had been hunting Leah from the afterlife, with Jaime helping out on this side. Leah had been clever, though, alternating between bodies and keeping Mom and Jaime chasing the other one, while she cozied up to me through Jesse.

When we arrived outside Jaime’s dressing room, I could faintly hear her voice through the door. A one-sided conversation. That’s not surprising for someone who can speak to the dead. Also not surprising that Jaime opened the door with her cell phone to her ear, pretending to be carrying on a conversation with an actual person. The surprising part was that she was fully dressed. And, as it turned out, she was talking to an actual person.

“It’s Hope,” she said to me. Then, “Can I put you on speaker?”

Jaime set the phone down on the table and disappeared behind a screen to dress. If Adam wasn’t there, she wouldn’t have bothered hiding. Jaime definitely hadn’t been one of those high school girls who’d ducked into a bathroom stall to change for gym. I guard my privacy a little more closely, but if I have Jaime’s figure at forty-seven, I might not hide it either.

I said hi to Hope Adams. Hope was a friend of ours and an Expisco half-demon. Her dad? Lucifer. The Lord Demon of Chaos.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

Hope was seven months along with her first child, and the pregnancy hadn’t been easy. When she said she was fine, her voice was so weak I could barely make it out over the speaker.

“You sound exhausted,” I said. “Are you getting enough rest?”

“Yes, I just—”

A clatter and a weak yelp of “Karl!”

A male voice growled in the background. “If you’re telling them you’re fine, then clearly you’re not the one who should be making this call.”

Hope’s husband. Karl Marsten. Of all the werewolves in the American Pack, Karl’s the only one who spooks me. But Hope can handle him, and the fact that she only sighed at his growling told me she was in rough shape.

“She’s still having the visions,” Karl said after he’d confiscated the phone.

“What visions?” I asked.

He ignored the question. “I know Elena thinks it’s just a difficult pregnancy, but this is more than hormones. Hope isn’t sleeping. At all. These aren’t the nightmares of a stressed pregnant woman. They’re visions, and until she figures out what they mean, she’s going to keep having them.”

As an Expisco, Hope did see visions—usually replays of past chaos.

“What’s she seeing?” I asked.

He hesitated, and I expected him to snap at Jaime to take him off the speaker. Clearly Jaime already knew what was going on here, and Karl didn’t have time for me right now. He never does. When he did continue, it told me just how worried he was.

“Flashes of images. The same ones over and over. Wolves. A baby. Jasper Haig.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Nightmares about wolves and babies when she’s pregnant with a werewolf’s child?”

“Yes, yes. It does sound like pregnancy jitters but—”

“And dreaming of the psycho who’s hell-bent on coming for her if he ever gets out of Cortez Cabal custody? If I was pregnant, I’d worry about everything that could threaten my child. Jaz is a threat.”

“Of which I am well aware.” Karl’s tone made me shut my mouth so fast my teeth clicked. “She’s seeing other images, too. A little boy. A laboratory. A meeting room filled with young people. Images with no obvious chaotic connection. Yet they’re scaring her and she doesn’t know why. She’s seeing you, too.”

“Me?”

“Yes. And a sword. She sees Savannah and a glowing sword.”

“Um, that might not be . . .” Jaime’s voice came over the rustle of her dressing. She paused, then cleared her throat. “Could she be seeing Eve?”

“With a sword?” I said.

“Not specifically.” Jaime hurried on. “Heaven and hell, angels and demons, swords and brimstone. Generic afterlife imagery. Anyway it does seem that Hope’s really having visions. Karl? I’m guessing you want me to run this past Eve and—”

A rap at the door told Jaime it was time for her hair and makeup. She came out from behind the screen, resplendent in a golden brown dress, and told Karl she’d call him later to discuss it. I said good-bye to Hope, wishing her better dreams, and promised to send some of Paige’s sleeping tea.