“If I’m going to die in a hole in your backyard, I’m going to enjoy whatever hallucinogens you put in my food, thanks.” Alice carefully placed her bowl on the counter and turned to Louisa. “Do you have a history of mental illness?” she asked primly. Louisa blinked at the sudden breach of silence. A growl started to build in Jack’s chest. He fully intended to wring Alice’s neck when this little charade was over. “Excuse me?” “Do you have a history of mental illness?” Alice repeated. “You were a bird five minutes ago,” Louisa said slowly. “I think you have your own problems to worry about.”