"I could just smack you—I hope you know that."
Missouri yanks on the bandage she's wrapping around Mary's upper arm, hard enough to make Mary grimace up at her. "If I wanted a lecture, I'd go see my cousins," she huffs, tucks a lock of hair (escaped from her sweat-drenched ponytail) behind her ear.
Shaking her head, rolling her eyes, Missouri returns to patching Mary up—but doesn't abandon digging at her: "It's one thing for you to just barge in here because you need help touching up a devil's trap, or you need to borrow an amulet, or you've just got a bad aura around you and you need a reading—but bleeding all over my carpet because you went hunting without backup? And why?"
Mary sighs—God, it's like she's got her parents back and Dad's grilling her about sneaking out of the house to prom, instead of skipping a few towns over for a salt-and-burn with Joe and Will. "Because John and I had a fight," she recites for the thirtieth time, "and I'm tired of always being the one who gets left, so I jumped on a case and left him alone with the kids."
"Which is another thing: what's anybody supposed to tell those two boys about their mother if you do this again and don't come back?"
Mary's breath catches in her throat—she shudders, but says nothing about the dreams she's had lately. The ones about the yellow-eyed demon, the ones with fire… They're probably nothing, anyway.