Betty put her hand on top of Hope’s, resting on the table. The hellhound’s skin was hot, so hot. Hope burned at the touch, a strange wave of heat prickling over her entire body.
“You have,” Betty said, very quietly. “And you don’t have to pretend you haven’t. Not with me.”
They sprang apart guiltily as Ivy came into the kitchen. Hope was certain that her shifter sister would instantly pick up on the electric tension in the air, but Ivy didn’t make any comment. She just gave them a preoccupied nod on her way to the sink.
Betty’s right, Hope realized with a twinge of concern as she watched Ivy take one of her special, red-banded cups out of the Box o’ Death. She’s not herself.
Her sister might not be going literally catatonic, but her eyes held a hint of the same haunted, thousand-yard stare as Hugh’s did whenever he blanked out. She’d been distant ever since she’d talked to Fire Commander Ash a few days ago. Hope didn’t know what they’d discussed, but it was clearly still preying on Ivy’s mind.
“Hey, where were you last night?” Hope asked, hoping to fish for clues as to what was going on inside her sister’s head. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Went back to our apartment,” Ivy muttered as she filled her glass at the sink. “I’m sleeping there at the moment.”
Hope exchanged a startled look with Betty. “Really? Why?”
“Just…keeping an eye on it. Don’t want anyone breaking in and trashing the place.”
“I could house-sit for you,” Betty volunteered, to Hope’s surprise. “I could look after Hope there too. So you and your mate could be alone together here.”
Ivy choked on her water. “No! Uh, that is, thanks. But no.”
“Why not?” Hope demanded.
Inwardly, her mind was doing backflips. And her stomach. Had Betty actually just proposed that they move in together? Even if it was just as roommates…
“It’s a brilliant idea! You could concentrate on Hugh, and we wouldn’t have to worry ab
out keeping all our dishes and laundry and stuff separate, and it would solve so many problems.” Words tumbled uncontrollably out of her mouth, as if she could change Ivy’s mind if she just talked fast enough. “We’re paid up until the end of the month, so it’s just sitting empty. And Betty needs a place to stay, and—”
“You do?” Ivy interrupted, turning to Betty. “Why? I thought you had a place, at that special home for orphaned shifters.”
The hellhound squirmed in her seat, shooting Hope an accusing glare. “I thought we weren’t going to tell her about this. You said she had enough to deal with already.”
Hope dismissed this with an airy wave. “That was when it was a problem without a solution. Go on, tell her.”
“The home might not be open for much longer,” Betty said reluctantly. “It was almost entirely funded through Gaze’s charity. He genuinely did put a lot of money into it—he grew up on the streets himself. With him out of the picture, well…” She shrugged. “There aren’t a lot of shifter foster families to start with. Let alone ones eager to take in hellhounds and other monsters.”
“You’re not a monster,” Hope and Ivy said together.
Betty flashed a grin. “Thanks, but you guys are biased. Anyway, if you aren’t going to be using your old place, I could sublet it from you. I can pay,” she added quickly, as Ivy opened her mouth. “I’ve got an evening job, and I’m gonna look for another. And as soon as I finish school, I can work more.”
“No, then you’ll be going to university on full scholarship, like me,” Hope said firmly, ignoring Betty’s expressive eye-roll. “I have it all planned out. So you just need a place to stay for a year. Come on, Ivy. Say yes. It’s perfect.”
“I’ll…think about it.” Ivy’s head suddenly jerked up, and an alarmed expression flashed across her face.
“What is it?” Hope asked, and then heard the footsteps moving around upstairs herself. “Oh, Hugh's up. Do you think that means he’s—”
“I gotta go,” Ivy interrupted, abandoning her half-finished glass of water on the kitchen counter. “Tell him—tell him I’ve gone out to work.”
“But-” Hope started, but Ivy had already disappeared out the back door. She exchanged a puzzled look with Betty.
“Is it just me,” Betty asked in an undertone, “or was that really weird?”
“Was what really weird?” Hugh had come into the room, barefoot. He wore jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a rather groggy expression. His hair stuck up in unruly spikes on one side, tousled from bed.
“Nothing,” Hope said quickly. “Hey, you’re up early today!”
Hugh blinked blearily at the clock. “It’s nearly eleven.”