Chapter 10: The Morning After the Lust Bomb
The first light of morning crept through the slats of the blinds in Mandy's basement workspace, painting thin gold lines across the concrete floor. She lay on her side, facing the wall, her body still humming with the residual warmth of sleep. Behind her, she could feel the weight of Ben's arm draped over her hip, the solid heat of his chest pressed against her back. Beyond him, the soft whisper of Jess's breathing—slow and even, the rhythm of someone still deeply asleep.
Mandy smiled.
She didn't move. Didn't want to. The three of them tangled together in her narrow bed, sheets twisted around their legs, the air thick with the scent of sex and salt and the faint ozone tang of the magical security system resetting itself. Ben's hand was heavy on her hip. Jess's fingers were still loosely curled around Mandy's wrist, where she'd fallen asleep holding on.
Last night had been—
Mandy's smile widened.
Last night had been a lot of things. Terrifying. Chaotic. The lust bomb had hit the house like a freight train, and for a while there, she'd been genuinely worried that Rachel was lost for good. But then Beth had shown up with that photograph, and Calista had looked at it like it was the answer to a prayer, and somewhere in the middle of all that mess, the four of them—Mandy, Ben, Jess—had found each other.
She shifted slightly, turning her head to look at them.
Ben was on his stomach, one arm flung over her, the other tucked under the pillow. His dirty blonde hair was a disaster, sticking up in a dozen different directions, and his mouth was slightly open. He looked like a golden retriever puppy who'd run itself exhausted.
Jess was curled against his back, her dark hair spilling across the pillow like ink, her body a study in contradictions—soft curves and hard muscle, the kind of figure that made Mandy's mouth go dry even now. Her eyelids fluttered. Whatever she was dreaming about, it wasn't unpleasant.
Mandy extracted herself carefully.
She slid out from under Ben's arm, replaced her body with a pillow, and stood beside the bed in nothing but an old t-shirt. The concrete floor was cold against her bare feet. She stretched her arms over her head, felt her spine pop, and padded toward the stairs.
The house was waking up.
She could hear it in the creaks and groans of old wood settling, in the distant hum of the enchanted refrigerator, in the muffled sound of voices coming from the kitchen. And something else—a rhythmic thumping from the guest room, accompanied by a low, familiar groan.
Mandy paused at the top of the stairs.
She knew that sound. She'd grown up hearing that sound through the thin walls of the Williamson house in Chicago. Her parents. Her father's particular groan when he was—
She shook her head and kept walking.
The kitchen was a disaster.
Someone—probably Mai, given the artistic chaos—had tried to make breakfast. There were eggshells on the counter, a frying pan with something blackened and smoking in the sink, and a carton of orange juice sitting open next to the coffee maker. Jeeves hovered near the ceiling, his mechanical arms twitching.
"Good morning, Mistress Mandy," the little automaton chirped. "I have taken the liberty of ordering breakfast from the café down the street. It will arrive in approximately twelve minutes."
"You're a lifesaver, Jeeves."
"I endeavor to be useful, Mistress."
Mandy poured herself a cup of coffee—black, no sugar, the way she'd drunk it since she was sixteen and needed to stay awake for a coding project—and leaned against the counter. Through the kitchen window, she could see the beach. The ocean was calm this morning, the waves gentle, the sky a pale, washed-out blue.
She thought about the photograph.
The girl with the silver hair and the pointed ears. The way she'd rolled her eyes at Calista and Diego like they were the most embarrassing people in the world. Mandy had pinned the printout to her corkboard, but she could still see it in her mind's eye—every detail, every shadow, every line.
That girl was going to exist.
Something in Mandy's chest tightened.
She was twenty-three. She wasn't ready for kids. She wasn't ready for marriage or mortgages or any of the things that came with being a grown-up. But the future was out there, somewhere, waiting for her. And if she and Ben and Jess kept going the way they were going—
"Don't start, Bug."
She looked up. Her mother stood in the kitchen doorway, her dark hair wet and plastered to her scalp, a towel wrapped around her body. Casey's face was flushed. Her neck was covered in marks that Mandy absolutely did not want to think about.
"Morning, Mom."
"Morning, kiddo." Casey crossed to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup. She drank half of it in one long swallow, then sighed. "God, I needed that."
"Rough night?"
Casey's lips twitched. "Something like that."
Mandy took a sip of her own coffee and tried not to think about the sounds she'd heard coming from the guest room. "Where's everyone else?"
"Your father is in the shower." Casey's eyes flickered toward the hallway. "Yukio's still in bed. Mai and Felicity are—around. Somewhere. Amy and Jason got a hotel room last night. Rebecca and Charlie did the same."
"And Rick?"
"Went home." Casey's expression softened. "Stacy's at the hospital with Jan. She said she'd call if anything changed."
Mandy nodded. Jan was stable—she'd been stable since the hospital in Chicago—but stable wasn't the same as safe. The Green Moon initiate was still unconscious, still hooked up to machines that beeped and whirred, still suspended in that strange limbo between life and death.
"How's Katrina?"
"Asleep. Finally." Casey sipped her coffee. "She secured a room for us at the Marriott if we want to stay longer. Said she'd handle the bill."
Of course she would. Katrina treated the Williamson family like her own, and she had the resources to back up the sentiment. Mandy made a mental note to thank her later.
"What about Bruce?"
"Had to check on his shop. Something about a leak in the roof." Casey rolled her eyes. "That boy is going to work himself into an early grave."
Mandy laughed. "He's twenty-one, Mom. He's got plenty of time."
"Twenty-one going on forty." Casey finished her coffee and set the mug in the sink. "I'm going to take a shower. A real one. The one last night was—" She paused. Smiled. "Interrupted."
"Ew, Mom."
"You started it."
Mandy watched her mother disappear down the hallway. The bathroom door clicked shut. A moment later, she heard the water start.
She finished her coffee and wandered toward the living room.
The house was quiet now. The thumping had stopped. Through the windows, she could see the beach—the pale sand, the gentle surf, the occasional seagull wheeling overhead. It looked peaceful. Normal. Like nothing bad had ever happened here.
But Mandy knew better.
She thought about Rachel. About the compliance collar that had cracked open like an egg. About the way her friend had looked in that bed—glassy-eyed, vacant, barely breathing. Beth had brought her back. Beth and Mike and Casey, working together the way they always did.
That was the thing about the Williamson family. They didn't let each other go.
The front door opened.
Mandy turned.
Beth stood in the doorway, her blonde hair damp, her camera slung over one shoulder. She looked tired but satisfied—the expression of someone who'd been up all night and had something to show for it.
"Morning, Shutterfly."
"Morning, Bug." Beth set her camera on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch. "I got some good shots. The sunrise over the water. Rachel asleep. You and your two—" She gestured vaguely. "—whatever they are."
"They're my boyfriend and girlfriend."
"Your boyfriend and girlfriend." Beth grinned. "That's so weird to say."
"It's accurate."
"It's weird." Beth stretched her arms over her head. "How are they doing, anyway? Ben and Jess?"
"Still asleep." Mandy sat down on the other end of the couch. "They're exhausted. We all are."
"Yeah." Beth's grin faded. "Last night was intense."
"Understatement."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the waves through the window. Then Beth spoke again.
"Do you think Rachel's going to be okay?"
Mandy considered the question.
"I think she's been through something we can't understand," she said. "The Shine. The void. A year of—whatever that was. But she's here. She's alive. And she's got people who care about her."
"Yeah." Mandy met her sister's eyes.
Beth nodded. She picked up her camera and started scrolling through the images. Mandy leaned over to look.
The first few were landscapes. The beach at dawn, the sky streaked with pink and orange, the water reflecting the light like a mirror. Beautiful, but not what Mandy was looking for.
Then came the portrait shots. Rachel asleep, her red hair spread across the pillow, her face peaceful for the first time since she'd arrived. Mai in the kitchen, laughing at something the camera couldn't see. Felicity curled up on the couch, her nose buried in a book.
Then—Mandy.
She was standing in the kitchen, her coffee mug in one hand, her hair a mess, her expression thoughtful. The morning light caught the edges of her face, softening the angles, making her look almost pretty. Almost.
"I like that one," Beth said. "You look real."
"I look like a disaster."
"That's what I said. Real."
Mandy rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "You're a menace, Lizzy."
"Mom says it's my best quality."
"Mom also says you get it from her."
"Well." Beth grinned. "She's not wrong."
The bathroom door opened. Casey emerged fully dressed, her wet hair braided down her back, her skin glowing from the shower. She crossed to the couch and leaned over to kiss Beth's forehead.
"Morning, Lizzy."
"Morning, Mom."
Casey straightened. "I left your father in the guest room with Yukio. I think they're both still awake, but I didn't want to interrupt."
"Probably wise," Mandy said.
Casey nodded. She started toward the hallway, then paused. Looked back at Mandy.
"Bug?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you seen Mai and Felicity anywhere?"
Mandy frowned. "I thought they were—" She stopped. The house was too quiet. The guest room was too quiet. She closed her eyes and focused, listening with the part of her brain that noticed things other people missed.
Nothing from the guest room.
But from the hallway outside the bathroom—giggling.
Mandy opened her eyes.
"I think I found them," she said.
Casey's expression flickered—something between amusement and resignation. "They're naked in the hallway, aren't they?"
"Probably."
"Of course they are."
Casey shook her head and disappeared down the hallway. Mandy heard a surprised laugh, then a series of whispers, then the soft click of the guest room door closing.
Beth raised an eyebrow. "Should I go check on them?"
"Absolutely not." Mandy stood up. "You're staying right here."
"Why?"
"Because you have a camera, and I know you. You'd take pictures."
Beth's grin was unrepentant. "It's called art."
"It's called invasive."
"Same thing."
Mandy grabbed a pillow and threw it at her sister. Beth caught it easily, laughing.
"Fine," she said. "I'll stay. But only because I respect your boundaries."
"You don't respect anyone's boundaries."
"That's fair."
They sat in silence for a moment longer. Then Beth's expression shifted. She picked up her camera and scrolled to a photo Mandy hadn't seen yet.
"Hey, Bug?"
"Yeah?"
"There's something I want to show you."
She turned the camera around.
The image was grainy—the resolution on the older model wasn't great—but the subject was clear. It was a photograph of a photograph. The cracked mirror. The vaulted chamber. The girl with the silver hair and the pointed ears.
"I took a picture of Calista's picture," Beth said. "I thought you might want a copy."
Mandy took the camera gently. She looked at the girl—at the future that awaited them—and felt something settle in her chest. A promise. A purpose.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"You're welcome."
Mandy handed the camera back. She thought about the future, about the family that hadn't happened yet, about the girl with the pointed ears who would one day roll her eyes at her mothers and think they were the most embarrassing people in the world.
She thought about Ben and Jess, still asleep in her bed.
She thought about the life they might build together.
Then she heard something else.
A moan. Low and familiar. Coming from the guest room.
Mandy's cheeks flushed.
Beth heard it too. Her eyebrows rose. "Is that—"
"Yeah."
"Are they—"
"Yeah."
"All of them?"
Mandy listened for a moment. She could hear Mai's voice—light and English-accented—and Felicity's soft gasp, and her mother's low laugh, and her father's groan, and Yukio's unmistakable cry of pleasure. Yes. Definitely all of them.
"That's..." Beth started.
"A lot," Mandy finished. "Yes."
She should have been disgusted. Or embarrassed. Or at least mildly disturbed. Instead, she felt something else—a warm, tingling sensation that spread from her chest down to her thighs.
She thought about joining them.
It would be easy. The guest room was right there. The door was unlocked. She could walk in and strip down and let herself be absorbed into the tangle of bodies and mouths and hands. She could feel her mother's fingers in her hair and her father's hand on her hip and Yukio's tongue between her legs.
She thought about Ben and Jess, still asleep.
She thought about how much she wanted them.
She thought about what Rachel had said, about the girl with the silver hair and the pointed ears. Mom said be careful.
The moan from the guest room rose in pitch.
Mandy's hand drifted to the hem of her t-shirt.
She slipped it between her thighs.
She was already wet. The sounds from the other room—desperate and filthy and unashamed—had done something to her. Her fingers found her clit and circled slowly, gently, finding a rhythm that matched the crescendo of voices drifting through the door. It wasn't enough. She wanted more. She wanted to be filled. She wanted hands on her.
She pulled her hand away.
Beth was looking at her. She had her camera in her hands, but she wasn't taking pictures. Her expression was understanding.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Mandy's voice was hoarse. "Just—thinking."
"About?"
"I don't know." She wrapped her arms around herself. "The future. The past. What's next."
"That's a lot."
"Yeah."
Beth set her camera aside. She stood up, crossed to Mandy's side, and put an arm around her. The hug was warm and solid—the kind of hug that said I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.
"You're not alone," Beth said. "Whatever happens."
Mandy leaned into the embrace. She closed her eyes. For a moment, she let herself be held.
Then she heard footsteps on the stairs.
Ben appeared in the hallway, his hair a disaster, his eyes still half-closed. He was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Behind him, Jess emerged—her dark hair loose, her body wrapped in one of Mandy's old robes.
"Hey," Ben said sleepily.
"Hey."
"Everything okay? We heard—" He gestured vaguely toward the guest room.
"Uh." Mandy glanced at Beth. "Yeah. That's just—my parents."
"Your parents."
"And Mai and Felicity."
"And Yukio."
Ben blinked. "Okay."
Jess was looking at the closed door of the guest room. "Do we want to know?"
"Probably not."
"Fair enough."
Mandy extracted herself from Beth's hug and walked over to them. She took Ben's hand in one of hers and Jess's hand in the other. Their palms were warm. Their presence grounded her.
"I love you both," she said. "I just—I wanted you to know that."
Ben's sleepiness evaporated. He looked at her with sharp, focused eyes. "We know."
Jess squeezed her fingers. "We love you too."
"I know." Mandy smiled. "But I wanted to say it anyway."
The sounds from the guest room were rising again—Casey's voice, low and commanding; Mike's answering groan; Yukio's thrilling cry. Mai and Felicity's interwoven moans. The bedframe was slapping against the wall. A lamp or a book or something tipped over with a crash.
Mandy ignored it.
She pulled Ben closer by his hand. She pulled Jess closer by hers. She leaned up and kissed Ben—hard, claiming, the kind of kiss that promised more later. Then she turned and kissed Jess—softer, sweeter, but just as deep.
"Bedroom," she said. "Now."
They didn't argue.
And somewhere in the guest room, the tangle of bodies moved toward its climax—Mike's release, Yukio's shuddering orgasm, Casey's hands on Mai's breasts, Felicity's tongue between her lips—while the rest of the house slept on. The morning sun painted the sheets gold. The ocean whispered against the shore. And in the basement, Mandy took Ben and Jess back to bed and made good on her promise.
The world kept turning.
The family kept growing.
And somewhere, in a future that hadn't happened yet, a girl with silver hair and pointed ears rolled her eyes at her mothers and thought about how lucky she was.
Beth watched Mandy disappear down the basement stairs with Ben and Jess in tow, their hands linked, their footsteps soft against the old wood. The door clicked shut behind them, and for a moment, the house fell quiet—or as quiet as it ever got with the guest room still producing sounds that would have scandalized a less experienced family.
She picked up her camera.
The weight of it in her hands was familiar, comforting. She'd been taking pictures since she was twelve years old, when her mother had given her a battered old Canon for Christmas. It had been her first real camera, and she'd cherished it until the shutter finally seized up three years later. This one was newer, sleeker, but it served the same purpose.
It let her see the world.
Beth climbed the stairs to the second floor, her feet knowing exactly where to step to avoid the creaky boards. At the top, she turned toward the guest room—no, toward Mandy's room. The basement. Whatever. She wasn't going to photograph that. She had more class than that.
She leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs and raised her camera.
Through the viewfinder, she could see the living room below. The couch where Rachel was still sleeping, her red hair spread across the pillow like a splash of paint. The coffee table with Mandy's abandoned mug. The front windows, through which the morning sun was pouring like honey.
She took a picture.
Then another.
She was adjusting the focus for a third when she felt hands on her tits.
Beth's breath caught.
The hands were warm. Confident. They cupped her breasts through her tank top, thumbs brushing across her nipples with just enough pressure to make her gasp. The touch was familiar in a way that made her stomach flip.
She lowered the camera.
Yukio stood behind her, naked as the day she was born, her body a map of ink and muscle and old scars. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders. Her eyes were bright with mischief. She was flushed—cheeks pink, skin damp with sweat—and she was smiling.
Flanking her on either side were Mai and Felicity.
Also naked.
Felicity's blonde hair was a disaster. Her blue eyes were wide and a little embarrassed, but she was smiling too. Mai looked utterly unrepentant, her English accent sharp as she spoke.
"Peeping on your sister, are you? That's a bit creepy, Shutterfly."
Beth's heart hammered against her ribs. "I wasn't peeping. I was documenting."
"Documenting what, exactly?" Yukio's voice was low, amused. "The back of her head as she walked downstairs?"
"The lighting. The composition. The—" Beth stopped. "You're deflecting."
"I'm teasing." Yukio's hands were still on her breasts. "There's a difference."
Beth swallowed. She could feel her nipples hardening under Yukio's palms, the fabric of her tank top doing nothing to hide it. She should step away. She should make a joke and retreat to her camera and pretend this wasn't happening.
She didn't move.
"I didn't think it was possible," Yukio said, "to wear Mike and Casey out in bed."
Beth blinked. "What?"
"They're legends. You know that, right? Everyone knows that. Jan's told stories. Rebecca's told stories. Even Amy's written stories, and she doesn't write anything unless it's true." Yukio's thumbs traced circles around Beth's nipples. "But here they are, passed out in the guest room, and I'm still standing."
"Felicity's still horny," Mai added.
Felicity made a strangled sound. "Mai!"
"What? It's true. You said so yourself."
"I didn't say it like that."
"You said, and I quote, 'I don't think I can stop.' That's pretty clear."
Felicity's face was the color of a ripe tomato. "That was in the heat of the moment."
"It was two minutes ago."
Beth laughed before she could stop herself. The sound cut through the tension like a knife, and suddenly she wasn't nervous anymore. She was just Beth—the girl with the camera, the girl who'd seen things that would break other people, the girl who'd brought Rachel back from the void with nothing but her hands and her mouth and a stubborn refusal to let go.
She looked at Yukio.
"I've heard rumors about your tongue," she said.
Yukio's eyebrows rose. "Rumors?"
"Stories. Legends. Whatever you want to call them." Beth's voice was steady now. "Are they true?"
Yukio smiled.
It was a slow smile—a predator's smile, the kind of smile that made Beth think of the tattoo on Yukio's back, the dragon and the Celtic cross, the years of adventure and danger and survival. It was the smile of a woman who had seen the world and decided she wanted to taste it.
"Why don't you find out?"
Beth set her camera down on the hallway table. She did it carefully, reverently, because that camera was her livelihood and her passion and she wasn't going to be reckless just because four naked women were standing in front of her.
Then she pulled her tank top over her head.
Her bra followed. Her shorts. Her underwear. She stood in the hallway in nothing but her skin, and she felt Yukio's eyes on her—roaming over her body, cataloging every curve and freckle and scar.
"You're beautiful," Yukio said.
"So are you."
"I know." Yukio stepped forward. She cupped Beth's face in her hands and kissed her—soft at first, exploratory, the kind of kiss that was meant to test the waters. Then it deepened. Her tongue slid past Beth's teeth, and Beth groaned into her mouth.
Behind them, Mai and Felicity exchanged a glance.
Then they joined in.
Mai pressed against Beth's back, her breasts flattening against Beth's shoulder blades, her lips finding the curve of Beth's neck. Felicity knelt in front of them, her hands running up Beth's thighs, her breath warm against Beth's hip.
Four bodies. Three mouths. Two hands on her tits and two hands on her ass and a tongue in her mouth and lips on her throat.
Beth's knees buckled.
Yukio caught her. Of course she did. Yukio had survived a broken marriage and a world-class adventuring career and injuries that would have killed lesser women. She could catch a photographer in the middle of a hallway.
"Bedroom," Yukio said. "Now."
They didn't make it to a bedroom.
They made it to the staircase landing—that wide, carpeted space between the first floor and the second, where the house's spatial magic made the walls seem to breathe. Yukio lowered Beth onto the landing like a sacrifice. Mai and Felicity followed. And for a while, there was no world beyond the tangle of limbs and mouths.
Yukio's tongue was everything the rumors promised.
She worked it between Beth's legs with a patience that bordered on torture, licking up Beth's slit, circling her clit, dipping into her cunt with a deliberateness that made Beth's toes curl. Her fingers joined in—three deep, curling up, stroking that spot inside that made Beth see white.
Beth came with a shout that she didn't bother muffling.
Mai kissed her through the aftershocks. Felicity's mouth found her tits, sucking and biting and soothing. And Yukio—Yukio just kept going, drawing out Beth's orgasm until Beth had to push her away, gasping, laughing, crying a little.
"You weren't lying," Beth managed.
"I never do." Yukio wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Not about important things."
Beth laughed again. She felt high—dizzy and warm and utterly, completely alive. She looked at the three women sprawled around her—Yukio with her tattoos, Mai with her English accent and her perpetual motion, Felicity with her scholarly eyes and her unexpected boldness.
"I want to do that," Beth said. "To all of you."
Yukio's smile widened. "Then what are you waiting for?"
Beth crawled toward Mai.
She started with her mouth. Mai tasted of salt and sunscreen, of the ocean she spent so many hours exploring. Beth licked up her thighs, kissed her hips, pressed her tongue into her cunt with a hunger that surprised her. Mai's fingers tangled in Beth's blonde hair.
"Fuck," Mai breathed. "Fuck, that's good."
Beth worked her over until Mai came—fast, easy, a bright and sparkling thing—then she moved to Felicity. The blonde girl was nervous, still. Her thighs trembled. Her breath came in short gasps.
"Are you sure?" Beth asked.
"I'm sure." Felicity's voice was barely a whisper. "I just—I've never done this with a girl before."
"Neither had Mandy. She figured it out."
"I know. She told me. In detail. She wouldn't stop talking about it for a week."
Beth laughed. "That's my sister."
She leaned in and kissed Felicity's clit.
Felicity's hands found Beth's shoulders. She held on. Her hips jerked. She came with a surprised cry, her whole body shuddering, and Beth drank her in like water.
Yukio was waiting when Beth was done.
The older woman positioned herself on her hands and knees, her ass raised, her cunt glistening in the morning light. Beth knelt behind her. She ran her hands over Yukio's back, tracing the lines of her tattoos with her fingertips.
"Since when do you have a Celtic cross?" Beth asked.
"Since I was twenty-three. Got it in Dublin. Long story."
"I want to hear it sometime."
"Ask me later. I'm busy."
Beth smiled. She lowered her mouth to Yukio's cunt and started working.
Yukio's orgasm took longer than the others.
She was a woman who had learned her own body a thousand times over. She knew what she liked—pressure, rhythm, a steady hand and a patient tongue. Beth gave her all of that and more. Slow circles. Alternating patterns. Two fingers deep and a thumb massaging her clit.
By the time Yukio came, she was shaking.
The four women collapsed onto the landing in a tangle of arms and legs and slowly fading bliss. Below them, in the guest room, Mike and Casey had finally gone quiet. In the basement, Mandy and Ben and Jess were probably sleeping again. And in the living room, Rachel was still dreaming her way back to the world.
Beth looked at the ceiling. She counted her breaths. One. Two. Three.
"That was therapeutic," she said.
Mai snorted. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"I'm calling it what it was. I needed this. You did too." Beth turned her head to look at Felicity. "All of us. After last night."
Felicity was still flushed, still shy, but she nodded.
"I still feel weird," she admitted. "Like I'm supposed to be embarrassed."
"You're in a house with four magical women who just had an orgy on a staircase," Yukio said. "Embarrassment left the building hours ago."
"Fair point."
They lay there for a while longer. The sun moved across the floor. The ocean whispered through the walls.
Then Beth heard footsteps.
She sat up. Mai and Felicity followed. Yukio stayed where she was, propped on her elbows, watching the stairs with a lazy curiosity.
Beth's father appeared at the bottom of the steps.
Mike was wearing nothing but a pair of old gym shorts. His hair was a disaster. His chest was covered in marks that had not been there before—some from Yukio, some from Casey, some from the chaos of the lust bomb. He looked exhausted. He also looked like the happiest man on the planet.
He looked up at the four naked women on the staircase landing.
He looked at his daughter.
He looked at the three women with her.
He blinked.
"I'm not going to ask," he said.
"Good," Beth said.
"Your mother was wondering where you went."
"Tell her I'm busy."
Mike nodded slowly. He turned around, walked back into the guest room, and closed the door.
Beth laughed so hard she nearly fell down the stairs.
The others joined her—Mai's sharp English laugh, Felicity's surprised giggle, Yukio's low and knowing chuckle. The sound filled the house, spilling through windows and doors, carried on the salt breeze toward the ocean.
It was the sound of survival.
It was the sound of family.
And from a future that hadn't happened yet, a girl with silver hair and pointed ears listened to the echo of her mothers' laughter and thought about how lucky she was.