“The blood on your arm…” he said after a moment. “Who did that to you?” “I did it to myself,” I said, quietly. “When I was trying to get your attention near the mortal-side veil.” I could only see part of his face in the mirror, but it was enough; he looked clearly horrified at the thought of being even indirectly responsible for any of the marks on my skin. It occurred to me then that I’d never actually shown him my claws—though I was certain I’d mentioned them at least once during all our time spent together. And I wanted to distract him from whatever horrible thoughts were rushing through
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