Daisy stood in what remained of the grand foyer, hands on her hips, surveying damage that would make insurance adjusters spontaneously combust. The silver light of the Moon's Tear pulsed gently against her throat, syncing with the twin heartbeats nestled beneath her own—tiny reminders that the universe hadn't completely lost its mind.
"Well," she declared to no one in particular, "this officially makes my college apartment after sophomore year spring break look like a Martha Stewart showcase."
Mrs. Rodriguez appeared beside her, somehow managing to look impeccably put together despite having spent the last forty-eight hours coordinating emergency responses. The housekeeper's salt-and-pepper hair was pulled into its customary tight bun, and her pressed slacks showed not a wrinkle—as if ch
