The drive north is quiet except for the rain.
It falls in steady sheets, streaking silver across the windshield, and the wipers keep their rhythm like a pulse I can’t shake. William hasn’t spoken since we left Grams’s house. His hands rest loose on the wheel, his expression carved from stone. Always calm. Always contained.
I almost hate him for it.
“You’re quiet,” I say finally.
“So are you.”
“I’m thinking about the part where you’re taking me into a room full of demons who’d probably like to see me dead.”
He doesn’t glance over. “They’ll see power before they see blood.”
“I could’ve worn the talisman.”
“No,” he says immediately. “Grams was right. Go unshielded. Let them feel what you are.”
I touch the bare skin of my throat. “You really think walking into a demon council glowing
