Hansel stirred the stew, gncing up at the mirror on the wall. Gretel's face filled the surface, trees blurring past behind her through the carriage window.

  "—and honestly, the northern routes are running smoother than expected," Gretel was saying. "We might actually finish ahead of schedule."

  "That's good." Hansel reached for the salt, seasoning the pot. "So you'll be back soon?"

  "Define soon. Two weeks, maybe three." She shifted in her seat. "Why? Missing me already?"

  "Always." He smiled briefly, then his expression sobered. "Actually, that's part of why I called. I wanted to talk to you about something."

  Gretel's eyebrows rose. "Uh oh. That's your serious voice. What happened?"

  Hansel moved back to the cutting board, dicing carrots while angling himself so she could still see him. "Thursday's meeting at the church. Something's wrong there, Gretel. Aldric is teaching something that doesn't feel right."

  "Doesn't feel right how?"

  "There were diagrams. Progression charts." He scraped the carrots into the pot. "He kept talking about measuring devotion, about leveling up spiritual growth. And Steve saw these patterns on Aldric's skin through his camera. Like circuitry. Like something growing in him."

  Gretel's expression sharpened. "You think it's an infestation? Like in that book you found?"

  "I think it might be." Hansel turned fully toward the mirror, wiping his hands on a towel. "It reminded me of the gingerbread house. Before we knew what she was. Everything seemed wonderful at first, remember? The kindness, the food, the way she made us feel safe."

  Gretel's jaw tightened. "Hansel—"

  "I'm just saying I recognize the pattern," he said quickly. "Something that feels like a blessing but isn't. And I'm worried about the people in the church."

  "Okay." Her voice was measured. "So what are you going to do about it?"

  "Research more. Keep watching." He stirred the stew absently. "Steve and I are going to—"

  He stopped, realizing what he'd just said.

  Gretel's eyes lit up immediately. "Wait. Steve and you? Together?" She leaned closer to her mirror. "You and Steve tired of pying around?"

  "Yes. He's been photographing the church. That's how we noticed—"

  "How long have you to hooked up?"

  "A few days."

  "And you're just now telling me?" Gretel's grin was wicked. "Hansel. What happened?"

  Heat crept up his neck. He turned back to the stove. "Nothing happened."

  "You're a terrible liar." The carriage hit a bump, jostling her image. "Oh my gods. Something *did* happen. What did you do?"

  "We just—we talked."

  "Uh huh. And?"

  "And... other things."

  Gretel ughed, bright and delighted. "Finally! It's about damned time."

  "Language," Hansel muttered, but he couldn't help the small smile.

  "Don't 'nguage' me. You've been pining after that man since we were teenagers." She was beaming now. "So? How was it? Are you seeing him again? Please tell me you're not going to panic and push him away—"

  "I'm not panicking. We're taking things slow. Seeing where it goes."

  "Good. That's good." Gretel's smile softened. "You deserve to be happy, Hansel. You spend so much time worrying about everyone else. It's nice to hear you're letting yourself have something for once."

  The warmth in her voice made his chest ache. He moved to stand in front of the mirror properly. This was the sister he remembered—sharp and fierce, but caring.

  "Speaking of which," he said, keeping his tone light, "how are things with you? The eastern expansion?"

  "It's fine. Nothing major." Gretel waved a hand. "Setting up new distribution routes, meeting with potential partners. Should be wrapped up by next week."

  Hansel's hands gripped the counter beneath the mirror. "Gretel—"

  "Don't."

  "I didn't say anything."

  "You didn't have to. I can hear it in your voice." Her expression hardened. "Go ahead. Say what you're thinking about Jack."

  He took a breath. "I just worry about you. About what you're involved in. The magic—"

  "The magic is fine. *I'm* fine."

  "You're distributing drugs, Gretel."

  "I'm selling a product. We are not forcing them to do anything that they don't want their adults." Her voice sharpened. "And before you start lecturing me, remember that I know exactly what I'm doing. I'm not some naive girl who needs her big brother to save her."

  Hansel turned away, checking the stew. "I'm not trying to save you—"

  "Yes, you are. You always are." Gretel's voice came from behind him. "This isn't the gingerbread house, Hansel. Jack isn't her. And we're not children anymore."

  He stared into the pot. "I know you're not a child."

  "Do you? Because every time we talk, you treat me like I can't make my own decisions."

  Hansel turned back to the mirror. "After what happened to us. After what *she* did—I can't watch someone else hurt you, Gretel. I can't go through that again."

  Gretel's expression softened slightly, but her voice stayed firm. "No one is hurting me. I'm happy. The work is good, Jack treats me well, and I'm actually *good* at this." She paused. "I know you don't approve. But this is my life, Hansel. My choice."

  "Even the magic? You know what it does."

  "Yes. I know what it is." She met his eyes steadily. "I know what I'm doing, and I know my own mind. You don't have to agree with my choices, but you do have to let me have them."

  Hansel wanted to argue. But looking at his sister's face—determined, clearheaded, *certain*—he knew it wouldn't matter.

  He moved and back to the stove, turning down the heat. "Okay."

  Gretel blinked. "Okay?"

  "I don't like it. I probably never will. But you're right—you're not a child, and I can't protect you from every danger in the world." He gnced up at the mirror with a small smile. "I can still worry about you though. That's non-negotiable."

  "Fair enough." Her smile returned, tentative. "I worry about you too. Especially with whatever's happening at that church. Promise me you'll be careful?"

  "I promise."

  "Good." The carriage slowed. "I have to go soon. But Hansel?"

  He looked up. "Yeah?"

  "I love you. Even when you're being an overprotective mother hen."

  "I love you too," he said, throat tight. "Be safe out there."

  "Always am." Her grin turned mischievous. "And hey—about time you finally got id. Don't screw it up."

  "Gretel—"

  The mirror flickered, returning to its normal reflection.

  Hansel stared at his own face for a moment, then dled stew into a bowl. He sat at the kitchen table but didn't eat.

  The kitchen felt too quiet now.

  His sister was happy. That should be enough.

  So why did it feel like he was watching her walk back into the gingerbread house all over again?