“Si, señora. Use the one at the desk.” And just like that, I was dismissed. Connie bustled the woman away out of the curtained enclosure, and the regular sounds of a Tuesday night on the front lines swallowed the sharper refrain of a terrified, relieved woman dissolving into fresh sobs. The smell of Lysol and human pain stung my nose almost as much as the dissolving reek of a Trader’s death.

Saul let out a sigh. He reached out, his hand cupping my shoulder. “Hello, kitten.”

I leaned into the touch. The smile spreading over my face felt unnatural, until my heart made the funny jigging movement it usually did when he was around and a wave of relief caught up with me. “Hey, catkin. Good work.”

“I knew he wouldn’t get there before you.” His own smile was a balm against my jagged nerves. He’d put on some weight, and the shadows under his eyes weren’t so dark anymore. The grief wasn’t hanging on him quite so heavily. “What’s the next emergency?”

I shrugged, held up the pager. “Gilberto paged from home.”

He absorbed this. “Not like him,” he finally said. Which was as close as he would get to grudgingly admitting my apprentice was doing well.

“That’s what I thought.” I reached up with my left hand, squeezed his fingers where they rested against my shoulder. His skin was warm, but mine left a smudge of filth and blood on him.

He never seemed to mind, but I took my hand away and swallowed hard.

Saul examined me. “Well, let’s see what he wants. And then, lunch?” Meaning the night was still young, and he’d like a slice of time alone with me.

It’s kind of hard to roll around with your favorite Were when you’ve got a kid living with you, after all. I was about ready to start suggesting the car’s backseat, but—how’s this for irony—I hadn’t had time yet. One thing after another, that’s a hunter’s life. “I don’t see why not. I’ve got a line on the hellbreed Watling Traded with, too.”