Being tired of being tired sounded funny when said out loud. The reality of it was a lot less funny.

I have been weary for much of my adult life. Scratch that. I have been tired much of my life.

But on top of that constant fatigue was injury. I’d been injured…a lot. Helping ghosts was not safe work. I didn’t know how many bones I’d broken. And I mean that literally. I have no clue. But the number was up there.

So, when I opened my eyes to the familiar sight of the Manor walls, my side and back aching and my entire body feeling heavy, it was with a sense of resignation.

I let out a heavy sigh.

I looked to my left to see Blair, wound tight as a spring, sitting on a wooden stool that was a little too small for her.

She looked a little like a bird on a perch with her knees pulled close.

I lifted an arm, half expecting the motion to fail. Thankfully, I wasn’t too far gone since the limb obeyed my command. I gave her a small wave and a half nod. “Yo, we really have to stop meeting like this.”

Blair took my hand before I could pull it back. Her grip was warm and calloused but gentle. She squeezed, not hard, but I wasn’t pulling my hand away.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days. I swear.“

I wasn’t sure if werewolves could get heart attacks and now didn’t seem like the right time to ask.

I gave her hand a squeeze in return, closing my eyes for a minute as my body ached.

“Yeah. Sorry.“

Neither of us spoke for several minutes. Finally, as if someone was pulling the words out of her, Blair spoke. “The little ghost. He was a trap?“

I nodded, feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over me. Getting screwed over by ghosts was not a new experience. Once upon a time, it made me furious. It felt like a betrayal. As if ghosts abusing my goodwill was somehow worse than when the living did it.

Now… now just made me tired. And a little sad.

“Yeah. It was a trap. Little guy was old, don’t know how old, but he certainly wasn’t a kid.“

“A plant from the necromancer.“

I nodded. I saw the hard edge of anger in her eyes. Not directed at me.

“I called everyone I could, but with the Barrow King's attacks you –“

She cleared her throat and gently let go of my hand. “They almost didn’t make it. I didn’t make it in time.“

I shook my head at her. “None of that,” I said, my voice tired. “I know you would’ve been there in a heartbeat if you could have, Blair. You were dozens of miles away. Nobody can cover that distance quick enough to-”

Her eyes flashed, specks of red swirling with blue. “My mother could have! Dozens of other spooks could have. I’m still too weak.“

I stared at her, the aches in my body feeling distant. I fished for the right words, weighing them carefully before I spoke.

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“If I had a different aura, or if I was a mage, I could’ve protected myself. Maybe if I was more skilled, I could’ve fought my way out cleaner.”

Blair glared at me. “None of that is something you can control!”

I stared at her, not saying anything.

We sat in total silence, the air thick, heavy.

Her own words finally sunk in, and she collapsed back onto her stool, shoulders sagging.

I reached out to her, my voice gentle. “We can only control so much, no matter how much we want to. Somethings can’t be overcome with just will alone.”

Blair gave me a rueful smile. “I. I know that. But I’m not used to being too weak. I hate it.”

“It’s not my favorite either. You get used to it, kind of.”

Blair reached over to a nearby desk and handed me a glass of water. I gave her a grateful nod and took a long sip. “How long was I out for?“

“Two days.”

I looked down at my side, which was swallowed in bandages. “How bad was it?“

“It could’ve been worse.“ She admitted begrudgingly. “You would’ve died without healers on hand, but from what I understand, they restored you enough to be as healthy as you were a day or two before the necromancer’s attack. They had to use a lot of magic to do it, though.“

It was pretty lucky, all things considered. After an escapade like that, I was used to being incapacitated for a lot longer.

“What else did I miss?“

“The Barrow King attacked four different cities. Portland was one of them.

“One assassination attempt in Boston as well as New York. And a raid on museums in Portland and Chicago. We stopped them from getting out with anything in Portland, but both of the assassinations were successful, and three different museums raided. We don’t know what the goal was. They took widely enough that it’s hard to narrow it down.“

I blinked, shock settling over me like cold water. “He won?“

She met my eyes. “Not the war, obviously. But as far as we can tell, he got what he wanted from the attacks, by and large.“

“The targets?“

“A vampire who had dealings with his Master in the past and a high-ranking noble. He didn’t take the field himself, which makes this worse.“

He had the resources for a wide-scale attack while keeping himself on the bench.

That was a problem, especially since the man’s magic meant he was raising more and more undead every day.

That would have limited effect if someone like Adela took the field against him. But she could only be in one place at a time. In many ways, the Barrow King wasn’t so limited.

Blair shifted slightly, drawing my attention.

I’d spent enough time around the woman to read the nerves in her expression.

“Get out with it. It can’t be that bad. I know the others are fine. You would’ve already told me if they weren’t.“

She shifted again before meeting my eyes. “My mother has a… Request for you.“

I raised my brows.

Blair tensed but didn’t interfere as I sat up to lean against the pillows. “A request? Or a politely dressed up order?“

The woman couldn’t order me around for shit. I was under her protection, not her authority.

For most, that was the same thing, but I could tell her to take a fucking hike, and she knew it.

“More like a request, she resents being unable to make into an order.”

“What is this request?“

Blair drew herself up, her bearing changing as she spoke with a voice full of authority. “Adela Northwoods, co-Alpha of the Northwood Pack and representative of all the werewolves, politely requests that the Grave Keeper travel, accompanied by my daughter and her Pack, to the town of Vintray, Virginia.“

I blinked at her. “Why?“

“Because we’re trying to recruit a Spirit Lord. And they’ve refused to discuss terms unless they can meet with you.”

“Ah.”