I nodded, looked up at him. “Thank you for not turning him in. I wish you’d told me—but I’m more pissed he didn’t tell me himself. That—that hurts,” I admitted. “A lot.”

And all my father’s talk about keeping my head down. Was that what he’d been doing? Hiding who he was? He couldn’t have been hiding completely. Not if he’d known someone well enough to get the building insulated, presumably so he could practice his magic. And knowing that he’d shared himself with someone else didn’t help.

Liam made a sound of agreement. “I’m not thrilled with your father, either. Even if he hadn’t known you’d become a Sensitive, he could have let you see that side of him. That might have made your last eight months easier.”

“I’m sure he thought he was protecting me,” I said, but I couldn’t muster much enthusiasm. “Just like you did.”

Liam nodded. “And we can see how well that turned out. From now on,” he said, gaze on me, “no more omissions. We both deserve better.”

“Yeah. We do.”

I was suddenly exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and stay there for a week. But we still had work to do.

I stood up. “We were going hunting.”

Liam’s gaze snapped up. “You still want to go?”

“The wraiths who hurt Emme are still out there. And there’s no chance Containment is going to change its position about Sensitives if wraith attacks are getting worse. Figuring out what’s happening is the only way to ensure that it doesn’t happen to me.”

Liam stood up. “You’re pretty remarkable, Claire Connolly.”

“Thanks,” I said. But still, potentially, a wraith.

•   •   •

On the way toward the door, I grabbed another bottle of water and a granola bar, then stopped at the counter. While Liam glanced back, I opened the safe, pulled out the black handgun my father had given me, confirmed the safety was on, careful to keep my finger away from the trigger.

Liam walked back. “That’s the gun?” He didn’t need to say it—it was the one I’d killed Paras with.

I nodded, pulled back the slide, checked the chamber. It was empty. I popped out the magazine, checked it. It was full, so I snapped it home again.

“How’s your aim?”

“I can hit the side of a barn.” I was better with tiny gears than faraway targets. But I was good enough to be safe.

“Can you shoot a wraith?”

I looked down at the gun. “There’s no way to bring a wraith back. To make them whole again. So yeah, if lives are in danger, I can.” I didn’t want to consider whether it would be better to kill it or leave it alive for a never-ending term in Devil’s Isle.

I pulled out the waistband holster I kept with it in the safe, clipped it into the waistband of my skirt, situated the gun, and looked up at him. “You ready?”

His eyebrows were lifted in amusement. “I am, Annie Oakley. Allons.”

“And once again in English?”

“Let’s go.”

That I could do.

•   •   •

We locked up the store, walked outside, an entirely new awkwardness settling between us.

I hadn’t noticed how Liam had gotten to the store. It wasn’t pretty. A mostly rusty pickup truck, the paint that remained a chalky green. It hadn’t aged well.

I climbed into the passenger side, slammed the door to close it, and still wasn’t entirely sure I’d closed it all the way. “This is quite a vehicle.”

“She gets the job done. Outfitted to require as little electricity as possible. But yeah, she’s not gonna win any beauty pageants.” Liam turned the ignition, and the truck rumbled to life.