The Supernatural Council arrived exactly as promised—three black SUVs rolling up our driveway at sunset, their occupants radiating an authority that made my skin crawl. Through our family bond, I felt Dante's tension ratchet up another notch, while Stella's curiosity sparkled with dangerous intensity.
*They smell like old books and fear,* our two-day-old daughter observed, her mental voice carrying an oddly adult assessment that still unnerved me.
I adjusted Stella in my arms, making sure her starlight aura was dimmed to barely visible levels. We'd spent the last day teaching her to control her power output—a lesson that should have taken months but that she'd mastered in hours.
"Remember what we discussed," I murmured to Dante as footsteps approached our front door.
He nodded grimly.
