He gave a rolling shrug as he swayed along but said nothing. So I tried again. “What about Crash?”

Another rolling shrug and I burst out laughing. “Robert, you don’t like either of them?”

“Friend,” he said softly. And held out a hand.

“Ah, Robert. It really sucks when the sweet guy is the dead guy.” I put my hand in his and his skeletal fingers tightened over my mine.

That’s how I ended up walking all the way home holding hands with a skeleton. See? I told you Robert wasn’t the worst date I’d ever been on.

I left Robert under the sprawling oak tree in the front yard, Spanish moss hanging low off the branches, swaying only slightly in the breeze. Kinkly gave me a wave from a branch partway up the tree, turned her back to me, and wrapped her wings around herself.

Up the front stairs I went, pausing on the threshold of the door.

Above my head was the distinct sound of furniture bumping rhythmically around.

“Seriously? Are you still going at it?” I muttered. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was happy Suzy and Eric were obviously getting along and getting to know each other in the biblical sense, but this was a bit ridiculous. Didn’t they need to sleep too? It was after midnight.

I let myself into the dark house. “Gran?”

She flickered to life for just a second in front of me, gave me a look of irritation, and then disappeared in a puff.

I frowned. “Hey, I didn’t deserve that. I didn’t make them get busy, be mad at them. Can I talk to you please? It’s about a new job.” I wanted her take on all the strangeness that had unfolded at the Marshall House. “Gran, I could really use your help.”

I waited, but there was nothing from her, not even another glimmer. Damn it.

She’d been moody ever since I’d gotten the yellow manila envelope that held information about her death and my parents’ deaths. I mean, I knew she wanted to know what had happened to her—I did too. But I also knew it would entail opening another pathway of mysteries. I just couldn’t do it all at once.

Apparently tonight she’d decided she was going to give me the cold shoulder to prove whatever point she was trying to make. The only other time she’d done that was when she’d caught me smoking weed as a teenager. I’d tried to tell her I was using it to enlighten my brain so I could connect more deeply with the shadow world. Surprisingly enough, she hadn’t bought my reasoning. She’d pointed out that if I wanted to enlighten my brain, I would need something stronger than weed.

“Moody old lady,” I muttered. She’d come out of her funk eventually. If I knew anything about Gran, it was that she refused to be hurried. “At this rate, I’ll be dead too before you talk to me,” I threw out to the open air.

A snort from the kitchen but otherwise no answer.

Adjusting my bag on my hip, I headed up the stairs, avoiding the ones that creaked. All I wanted was to drag my body into bed, pop a couple Advil, and close my eyes to the world for a few hours.

The morning was coming soon enough to deal with the stuff I’d gathered from Grimm. To pin Gran down. And to find a necromancer who could talk to me—

A loud bang rippled from Suzy’s room. No, I wasn’t putting up with that all night.

“Well, that’s enough of that shit.” I changed directions and headed straight for Suzy’s room. I rapped a knuckle on it. “I know you two are having fun, but seriously, go to sleep. Or go to Eric’s house or something.”

I turned away and another loud thump sounded, this time accompanied by a muffled sound that could have been words in a pillow. Or something shouted into a gag. A tremor of unease slid up my spine. I stood there in front of the door as Feish stepped out of her bedroom, wrapped in a bright red silk kimono, yawning wide and showing off gills at the back of her throat.

“They still banging boots? Been all damn night, thumping and bumping. Like furniture being tossed.” She wrapped her arms around her middle.

What if they weren’t banging boots, as Feish had so delicately put it? What if something was wrong?

I put my hand on the door. “I’m coming in, cover up!” I yelled, gave them a beat of ten seconds, and twisted the door handle.

It didn’t turn, but instead went ice cold and froze over. “Ah crap!” I stepped back, lifted a foot, and booted the door. Now let me tell you something, this was not my first attempt to kick a door down. The first time, I’d ended up bouncing backward and landing on my ass. I was hoping I’d gained some skill. I also held back a little, just in case.

I aimed for just to the left of the knob, and the door rattled but didn’t splinter. “Feish, go get Crash!” I yelled as I kicked the door again. Nothing. I put my hand on the knob, and if possible, it was even colder than before.

Suzy and Eric were in there and someone was hurting them. I yanked both knives from the sheaths on my thighs and drove one straight into the keyhole of the door. The old metal cracked and groaned as I wrenched the knife left and right, shattering the metal as though it were glass.

The door was still stuck, and nothing happened when I shoved against it, pushing with all I had.

Crash raced up the stairs in naught but a pair of jeans, and then he was next to me, his shoulder against the door. “What the hell happened?”

“Ducked if I know! I was out of the house, and I figured they were having fun.” I pulled back and shoved on the door again, the hinges groaning with our combined efforts.

“Again,” Crash growled and a tingle of something rolled off him as we hit the door, his magic weaving with our bodies. The wood exploded and we fell into the room. Only it no longer looked like my gran’s house.

I slopped forward through what could only be called swampland, the water up to my mid-shins. Vegetation better suited to the deepest jungles than the inside of a house covered every inch of the room, and that included the two figures tied to a couple of back-to-back chairs with thick vines. Eric’s glasses were all I could see, and his eyes had never been wider.

I lurched through the water to his side and used my knife to cut the vines off his face first.

“Suzy, help Suzy!” he breathed out. “They did this to her.”

“Shit, shit, shit!” I grabbed the vine-mummified Suzy and started slashing at the climbers, cutting them loose and yanking them off. Behind me, Crash helped Eric get fully free, and then they were helping me with Suze. Which was good because as soon as we cut through a runner, another applied itself to her. The water around us sloshed, and the impossibility of this situation—this room—was not lost on me.

“Why the hell didn’t Gran warn me?” My anger wasn’t really at Gran, but at myself for not having noticed something was wrong. For not checking on these two sooner.

“They spelled Celia, I think,” Eric said. “She did warn us, but they did something to make her not herself.”

I finally got the vines off Suzy’s face, four layers of thick vegetation, and her eyes fluttered open. “Suze, we got you!”

“’Bout time,” she whispered.

Ten more minutes passed as we fought the vines, finally freeing her.

“Out in the hall,” Crash said.

Feish put out a blanket, and we laid Suzy on it as we got the last of the remaining vines off. “She needs another siren to help her,” Feish whispered. “Someone strong enough to get her through this.”

“What is ‘this’?” I scooped up Suzy’s hand. Her skin was deathly cold and clammy as if there were no hot blood pumping through her. “What is happening to her?”

“I think someone triggered her siren side, thinking she’d do harm to Eric.” Feish stroked Suzy’s pale face. “A half-breed siren with no control would have drained Eric of life. But she managed to fight off the urge, most likely because she’s falling in love with the bigfoot.” Eric startled, but Feish just plowed on. “And this—” she motioned to the swamp in the room, which was somehow not dripping out past the doorway—“is what happened.”

Other than Suzy, I didn’t know any sirens, half-breed or otherwise. “Her mom?” I offered.

Feish shook her head and Suzy grabbed my hand. “No. Not her.”

I looked at Crash. “You know any sirens?”

He blinked down at me. “Call Corb. He brought her into the Hollows. He should know what to do.”

Eric ran to get his phone, and he handed it to me while I gripped Suzy’s hand. “Suze, we’re calling Corb. Can he help you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes scrunched tightly. “I’m sorry about the room, Bree. Please send Eric out.”

“Don’t worry about anything. We’ll get the room cleaned up in no time.” I squeezed her fingers, fear clutching my heart. Losing Suze was not an option. I dialed Corb. He didn’t pick up, and I left a frantic message that I followed up with an equally urgent text: 9-1-1 Gran’s house!!

Eric shook his head. “No, I’m staying with you.”

A tear slipped from under one of her eyelids. “You have to go. I can’t control this much longer.”

“I’m not leaving you.” He went to his knees and scooped up her hand. “I’m not.” Only she didn’t answer, her body limp and unconscious.

I looked at Crash for help. He stood back at the top of the stairs, his upper body slick with water from the swamp, his jeans wet almost to his thighs. As lovely as all that was to look at, it was his face that I locked onto and, more specifically, the uncharacteristic worry I saw there. I mouthed one word. Bad?

He gave me a slow nod and mouthed back I’m sorry.

I tightened my hold on Suzy’s hand. “Is there nothing we can do to help?”

Feish stroked Suzy’s hair. “If she’d drained Eric’s life, she would have survived.”

“Wait, are you saying she might not survive even with help now?” The words tumbled out of me as I tightened my grip on Suzy’s hand. “Are you serious?”