Spells & Sourdough

Manhattan Magic #2: A Cozy Urban Fantasy

Scott Walker

Contents

Books By Scott Walker

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Epilogue

About the Author

Acknowledgments

Books By Scott Walker

MANHATTAN MAGIC SERIES

(Cozy Urban Fantasy Series)

Melina Morgan has the sight: the ability to see through any fae illusion. But if the fae find Melina, they’ll kill her, which would, you know, totally ruin her plans for a quiet holiday at home. And that’s exactly what happens when a drunk dwarf lands in Melina’s backyard one night. In order to protect herself and her town, Melina will travel to the fae-filled city of Manhattan. Armed with a sliver of iron and her sourdough starter, Melina’s about to step into a world of magic, mystery, and mischief!

COZY VALES

(A Cozy Fantasy Shared World Collection)

If cozy fantasy is your cup of tea (or coffee - no judgment!), be sure to visit the Cozy Vales Queendom for a growing collection of books low on stakes but high on mystery, adventure, magic, and more!

THE LITTLE YŌKAI SERIES

(Urban Fantasy Procedural)

In a world where the Japanese supernatural spirits known as Yokai wander the physical plane, Bureau of Souls Agent Keiko Miller has an oath to protect the innocent and bring justice to the guilty. She also has a secret of her own: she's part Yokai. She'll have to protect that secret like her job and her life depend on it, because they do.

A Complete 6-Book Series

DELTA UNDERGROUND OPERATIVES

(VAL & TIMMERON)

(Urban Fantasy Dual Assassins)

She talks with the dead.

He communes with nature.

Can these opposites save the world?

After a secret organization recruits a death-dealing necromancer and a life-loving wood elf to become dualcasting assassins, the pair will have to work together to stop a deadly fae from zombifying the planet.

Cloak and Dagger

AMAZON VELLA NOVEL

(Urban Fantasy)

This year, Ivy Hunter got a lump of coal in her stocking the size of Cincinnati: her father died mysteriously on Christmas Day. Equally mysterious? The message he left Ivy, one which will send her down a path of magic, secret organizations, and monsters from beyond the mortal plane. Ivy's determined to find her father's killer - if she can live long enough.

Runed

ANTHOLOGIES

Folklore Tales of Old Japan

This collection contains seven short stories, all based on classic folklore tales from Japan.

Daily Story Seeds

With over 90 bite-sized stories ranging from dark to funny to whimsical, every mini-narrative in this collection has a seed of truth firmly rooted in our current world.

Learn more about Scott’s catalog

Chapter One

S ome days you’re sitting at home, working remotely as a for-hire technical writer. Other days, you’re chucking hot pretzels at a couple of evil elves stalking you through the streets of Manhattan.

Then there’s the day you don’t see coming, the one I call the “sandwich day.”

The sandwich day neatly divides your life into before and after.

My sandwich day happened during a cold December while I was in Raleigh, NC, for work. I’d left my coastal hometown of Cold Creek to meet with my latest client, Morton Electronics.

It was supposed to be a short meeting to kick off my second technical writing gig with them. Sam Dorchester, VP of Engineering, sat across from me in a small conference room, extolling the amazing attributes of the Focal XR-8, the latest Morton DSLR camera.

As I glanced out the window at the darkened sky, I silently repeated the rhyme my mother had taught me from an early age. The short poem had been a constant mantra for me, a reminder of the precautions necessary to keep me safe from the fae.

Finger of iron, bit of bread;

Make it safe for mortals to tread.

Pinch of salt, ring of bell;

Both will keep you safe and well.

Sam was not the focus of my growing concern. My sight ability confirmed he was human. I wasn’t worried about him. I was worried about escaping a city full of fae and making the long drive home in the dark.

The meeting had gone far longer than scheduled. Instead of getting on the road before sunset, I was still dutifully taking notes hours later.

“Somewhere to be, Ms. Morgan?”

Sam Dorchester glanced at me over the top of his black-rimmed glasses. He was old school in a couple of ways. Namely, he’d insisted on a face-to-face meeting. No video chats for him.

The last thing I’d wanted to do was make a five-hour, round-trip drive to Raleigh and back, but I’d get a ton more work from Morton if I kept them happy. They loved the last user manual I’d produced for them, and I really needed the money if I wanted to keep my house.

All of which was how I found myself in the conference room, hours past my original departure time.

“I’m sorry, no,” I replied. “And you can call me Melina. Please continue.”

I’d made the request twice already, but he seemed more comfortable using my last name. Like I said, old school.

With a smile, Sam continued his technical briefing.

“Now, if you’ll take a look at the schematics for the power supply, you’ll find . . .”

My mind wandered, despite my best intentions. I was capturing everything on my digital audio recorder and taking notes, so even if I missed something, I’d catch it later. To be fair, my mind had a lot of reasons to wander.

A week ago, a dwarf named Nod had shown up at my house. Well, in my backyard flower bed.

While he ended up saving my life from some super evil fae, his arrival had also forced me to question everything Mom had told me about the fae. She’d told me all the supernatural entities wanted me dead, which was why I’d been hiding from them my entire life.

Turned out at least one dwarf didn’t want my head on a platter, and he assured me he wasn’t the only one who wanted to protect me.

Even so, the fae’s arrival shattered the decades of peaceful living I’d enjoyed in Cold Creek.

The tiny coastal town and the people who called it home had been kind and welcoming to me and Dad. We’d settled in and made friends over the years, and even though I wasn’t born there, I quickly came to view it as my hometown.

Best of all, Cold Creek was in the middle of a dead zone, anathema for the fae.

Or so I’d thought.

The appearance of multiple fae in a matter of days left me questioning lots of things. Was Cold Creek still the safe haven I’d believed it to be? Would a day come when Dad and I would have to leave? And how much of the reliquary could I still trust?

The collection of journals—centuries of accumulated wisdom about the fae collected by my ancestors—made it clear all fae were evil. According to the reliquary, if a fae discovered I possessed the sight, they’d kill me for my ability to see through their illusions.

Topping it all off? The origami crane I’d found this morning on my back deck table. The animal was made of thick stock white paper, and whenever I touched the creation, my fingertips tingled. A part of my mind whispered, magic.

But was it good or bad magic? Would it harm me, or was it harmless? I couldn’t tell. I only knew the paper creation contained a sliver of energy that, if triggered, would do something.

At first, I thought Nod had left it, perhaps as a parting gift after our triumph over the farrow and boggarts. I’d have expected something more metallic in nature from the dwarf, though.

“Still with me, Ms. Morgan?” Sam looked at me over his glasses, and it felt more like being gently chided by a grandfather than being called out by a high school teacher.

I frantically scrambled for the highlights of the past few seconds of conversation.

“Yes, the flash has three settings: manual, automatic, and low light. The low light setting is also automatic in that the sensors will determine how bright the flash should be to maximize color collection without introducing light bounce, which will create glare.”

“Precisely,” he replied with a smile, satisfied with my answer. Sam leaned back in his chair, reflexively straightened his tie. “Well, I believe that about covers it. Any questions?”

“If I have any, I’ll email you.” I packed up my things, including all the schematics, diagrams, and tech documents Sam had given me.

“Please do. We missed our shipping date for the holidays, and management is extremely motivated to complete the technical manual as soon as possible.”

“Of course.”

“So, no problem with the new deadline?”

I blinked. “New?”

He frowned. “They didn’t tell you? Word came down from management this morning. They want the Focal shipping ASAP. I’m afraid the crunch is affecting everything. We need the manual in ten days.”

“A typical engagement for a manual this complex is twenty-five to thirty days.”

They were already lowballing me on the project, and I’d swallowed my pride in the hope that more projects would follow. Morton was creating new devices all the time. A steady string of writing jobs would go a long way towards upping the balance in my checking account.

This new twist meant I’d be lucky to finish any kind of draft in ten days. A polished product was virtually impossible.

“Mr. Dorchester, I can’t complete this in ten days. Whatever I generate in that timeframe won’t be at the quality level I believe the Focal deserves.”

The VP gave me a sympathetic look. “Apologies for the confusion. I thought you’d been notified.”

“No.”

Now that I’d made it clear I couldn’t deliver a decent manual in the timeframe, I’d expected Sam to adjust the deadline. Even a few extra days would make a huge difference.

“I appreciate the standards you set for yourself, Ms. Morgan, just as I appreciate the talent you demonstrated on your last project. I’m confident you can deliver a top-notch manual for us.”

I could have said no. I should have pushed back. But I needed the money, and I was tempted by the dollars that would surely follow if I helped Morton out of their self-made crisis.

I made a quick calculation. Ten days meant doubling my workload on a daily basis, which wouldn’t leave time for anything but work. However, I’d done a DSLR manual a year ago for a competitor. I knew the basics of the Focal’s functionality. That would buy me some time. I’d find the rest in endless cups of black coffee.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” I replied, and tried to give him as genuine a smile as I could muster.

“Wonderful,” he said. “I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

We were the last two employees on the floor. The place was quiet, and many of the overhead lights were off or dimmed. Holiday decorations were sprinkled throughout the sea of cubicles, which gave the semi-darkened office an unsettling look.

I followed Sam to the elevator, where he pressed the down button for me. I had a bag of documents in each hand.

“Ms. Morgan, if this project goes well, there’s a new printer we’re launching next year that will be a perfect fit for you. I really shouldn’t tell you this, but I’ll be expanding our team in a few months. If you impress me with the Focal manual, there’s a chance I could offer you a permanent position.”

“That’s great to hear.” I tried infusing my voice with enthusiasm I didn’t have.

The bait Sam dangled wasn’t nearly as enticing as he thought it was. A full-time job in Raleigh was a non-starter. No way I’d be able to safely navigate a city while constantly bumping up against the fae.

Could I convince him to let me work remotely going forward, even if it meant remaining a contractor?

Stay focused, Melina, you got this. You’ll figure out a plan. You always do. Just look at how you handled that farrow. Take it one small step at a time.

Right.

First things first: I needed to get out of the building without encountering any fae. Then I needed to cross the darkened parking lot at night to my beat-up sedan. Then I needed to drive two hours home.

The rest—the fae’s sudden appearance in Cold Creek, the mysterious origami, and the Focal’s manual—I’d deal with later.

The elevator doors slid open.

“Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Morgan. Thank you again for coming in, and I’m looking forward to seeing your user manual.”

I stepped inside the elevator. “Thanks for the opportunity. I’ll be in touch. Have a great weekend.”

“You, too.”

The elevator doors closed. I took a deep breath, let it out slowly. I had my sliver of iron around my neck and a bit of sourdough bread in my pocket. In my car were a box of salt and a large bell.

I’d dodged the fae for decades, and when they rolled into my backyard a week ago, I’d dealt with them. All I had to do was walk through an empty lobby and a near-deserted parking lot. No problem.

The elevator doors parted. Across the lobby, three goblins stood by the front doors.

Buttermilk biscuits.

Chapter Two

G ripping the bags tightly, I pretended not to notice the fae. The trio had assumed glamoured appearances of three males in the twenties. Rather good-looking ones, too, dressed in slacks and nice shirts.

Very different from their goblin form, of course. Three or four feet tall, green skin, dark eyes, and simple clothes. Gnarled fingers, large ears, wide noses. Thankfully, I didn’t see any weapons, though the group could have easily overpowered me without them if they wanted to.

My sight allowed me to see both appearances at once without making my brain feel like a kid who ate three corn dogs at the state fair before taking a spin on the Egg Beater ride.

And yes, I’d once been that kid, so I knew exactly what I was talking about.

If there was another way out of the lobby, I didn’t see it. Rather than risk drawing their attention with an about-face, I forged ahead.

As I got closer, one of them said something, and they all laughed. My fear dialed down a degree. They certainly weren’t acting like cold-blooded killers who wanted my head on a platter. In fact, they barely seemed to notice me.

I stepped around them, just enough to be out of arm’s length but not so far that it would be obvious I was avoiding them. One of the goblins glanced at me for a split second as I passed. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t resist meeting his gaze.

The way glamour worked when the illusion differed from the fae’s true appearance was tricky. Illusion was really a confusing term, as fae were more like shapeshifters when they used their glamour.

My heart skipped a beat when the goblin’s illusion smiled and nodded at me. I smiled back and forced my feet to keep moving towards the doors. My steps echoed in the lobby, the sound more obvious since the fae had gone silent.

I desperately wanted to look over my shoulder or break into a sprint. Instead, I gritted my teeth and kept my eyes on the massive wreath hanging over the entrance.

“Excuse me,” one of the goblins said. I kept walking. “Excuse me, can I ask you a question?”

Dang it. Ignoring them would raise as much suspicion as dashing through the door. I swallowed, felt the sudden tightness in my chest, and turned.

The goblin nearest me said, “We’re new in town. Do you know a good steak place around here?”

“Sorry, I’m not from around here, either.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I started towards the doors, and this time I wouldn’t stop until I was outside. Using my hip to press open the door, I made sure not to look back as I stepped outside.

The icy air felt good; it wicked away the sheen of nervousness from my face. I turned left and headed for my car. The lot was, indeed, mostly empty. Hard for a fae to catch me by surprise.

I moved from lamppost to lamppost, staying in the circles of light as much as possible. My ten-year-old sedan sat in the corner of the lot, tantalizingly close. Unable to resist the urge to look behind me, I made a quick sweep of the area.

A small fae of some type, perhaps a sprite, was walking far behind me. The distance made it impossible to say for sure, but they appeared to be glamoured as a forty-ish woman with middle management written all over them.

My paranoia said she was silently stalking me. A more rational part of my brain said she was a Morton employee working late and wearing soft winter boots that barely made a sound.

I dropped one bag to the ground and pulled my car keys out of my purse. Between the cold and my fear, I nearly dropped my key fob.

I dumped the bags in the passenger seat, pressed the ignition button, and put the car in reverse. My foot hit the accelerator a bit too eagerly. The sedan’s tires squealed.

The sprite looked over at me.

Easy, Melina.

I did a better job of navigating my way out of the long parking lot at a more respectable pace. As I moved past the headquarters’ entrance, two figures stepped outside. I made a slow turn for the road. In the rearview mirror, I got a good enough look to see what type of fae they were.

Dearg elves.

I floored the accelerator and barely slowed as I made the turn onto the road.

The reliquary was clear on a couple of things when it came to the fae.

First, there were the Seelie Court fae, who were generally considered to be less evil than their counterparts, the Unseelie Court fae. King Oberon and Queen Aine ruled the Seelie. The Unseelie didn’t have a leader, at least according to the reliquary.

Any fae could belong to either court. There were bloodthirsty, heartless pixies in the Unseelie Court, and there was the rare boggart or two in the Seelie Court. You couldn’t confidently predict court membership based solely on the type of fae. Usually.

There were few exceptions. Dearg elves, for example, were always members of the Unseelie Court.

These blue-skinned entities looked just like their pale-skinned, long-eared cousins. Dearg had a reputation for being some of the most feared hunters in the Unseelie Court and had spent a lot of time in the mortal world. And I’d just bumped into two at the same time.

But the closer I got to Cold Creek, the less anxious I became.

By the time I cruised into the town limits, my sedan was traveling at the posted speed limit. Likewise, my heart rate had slowed, and my hands no longer shook.

The dearg might have been after me, but the more likely explanation was they were simply watching an old car motor off into the dark late on a Friday night. I tried reminding myself that coincidence is sometimes just that.

I pulled up the thin gravel driveway next to my small rancher-style home. I’d been smart enough to leave the front and back porch lights on before heading to Raleigh. I grabbed the two bags and ran to the front door without dropping my house keys.

Once inside, I locked the door and walked to the kitchen where I kept my rowan broom. The fae liked rowan wood about as much as cats liked water. This one was a custom job. I’d carved it by hand from a single piece of wood. Mom had done the same for her broom, which was at Dad’s house. I picked up mine.

Suitably armed, I checked the house room by room, turning on all the lights as I went. Nothing seemed out of place.

I stepped onto the small back porch and held up the broom. The motion-detector lights switched on and gave me a clear view of the yard.

The metal stakes were still planted along the perimeter of my wooden fence. Wind chimes hanging from the eaves of my home tinkled in the chilly night air. The gazebo, recently repaired by Nod, looked better than it had in years. Satisfied that I didn’t have an army of fae waiting to pounce on me, I went back inside.

The more I thought about things, the more convinced I was that the dearg weren’t hunting me after all. I’d never been to Raleigh before, and walking around all those fae had put me on full alert. Of course my mind was going to see threats around every corner.

I turned on my TV and found a cooking show for some background noise while I prepped a couple of sourdough loaves to bake tomorrow. My starter, Sourdough Joe, had risen nicely since I’d fed him that morning. Lots of little bubbles in the yeasty mixture. I couldn’t actually hear him talk, but I pretended I could. I gave him an English accent, too, for some silly reason.

Hello there, Melina, how was your day? Ready to make some dough? I’m feeling ready to rise to the occasion, ha, ha, ha.

He also told the worst jokes.

I weighed out the exact amount of starter, added in the flour, salt, and water, and mixed the sticky concoction until everything was properly blended. Mom had taught me how to bake sourdough bread using an old wooden bowl and spoon she’d inherited from her mother. She wasn’t entirely sure, but Mom figured it had been in the family for at least four generations.

Every time I used the wooden set, I felt connected to Mom. My memories of her were fading, and I clung to the photographs of her and the few things I’d inherited like charms. Time was a thief of many things, and it had slowly been pilfering my recollections of Mom for years.

The recipe I picked for this batch of bread called for a series of mixings, stretches and folds, and rests. All told, it took me an hour to prep the bread and let it go through its first rise.

And this was going to be a good batch. I could tell by how the dough elongated when I lifted it out of the bowl. It better be good, too, because I was taking the loaves to the holiday party Millie was throwing tomorrow night at her restaurant. Everyone would be there, and I couldn’t very well schlep in with sub-standard bread.

By the second set of stretches, the dough had firmed up. I shaped it into a ball in the bowl, covered it with plastic wrap, and set it on the counter. Then I repeated the process for the second batch of dough.

It was only nine o’clock, so I sliced a thick piece of bread from an older loaf and toasted it up. A bit of butter and an obscene amount of Mrs. Tilley’s apple butter topped it off.

The mixture was a super-sweet version of applesauce, not butter, and don’t let the color put you off, either. A lot of folks up north let the dark-brown color be an excuse not to eat it.

Their loss.

The smell of toast filled the kitchen and took the edge off my nerves. I swear, toast of any kind was amazing, and very few situations weren’t improved with buttered toast.

I spread out the Focal documents on the kitchen table. The timetable was super tight, but hitting the aggressive deadline felt more achievable. Now that I could focus on the material, my comfort level rose a tad. I could deliver a quality manual to them on time, though I might need to sleep for a week afterwards, though.

Two hours slipped by. The kitchen table was covered in papers, and I was knocking out a rough but detailed outline for the manual. I stood and stretched out the kinks in my back and neck. A massive yawn sent me over to the coffee maker, where I started brewing a pot.

While the machine prepared to generate some caffeinated go-go writing juice, my mind slipped back to the origami crane. I picked up the paper craft art, turning it over in my hand and feeling that faint tingle of magic in my fingertips. I didn’t know a lot about origami. Paper airplanes were about as close as I’d gotten. Probably as close as I’d ever get.

The crane was beautiful and elegant, and the number of folds in the paper required to achieve the effect was mind-boggling.

Where did you come from, my little friend? And what are you supposed to be? A message? A warning? A gift?

As I stared at the paper craft, the vibration increased. I’d never held it this long before. The sensation wasn’t painful, though. One of the folds in the paper undid itself. I dropped the origami piece to the table and watched it continue unfolding until it was a creased but flat piece of paper.

A crane of blue light appeared over the paper, stretched its wings, and took flight. It circled the kitchen once before flying right through the sliding glass door and disappearing into the night.

Okay, that was weird.

Downside? I might not ever know who sent it.

Upside? It hadn’t sprouted horns and tried to kill me. The bar was pretty low at the moment.

I sipped the last of the room-temperature coffee from my mug and nearly did a spit take.

A seven-foot-diameter ring of dull orange light had appeared on my back deck, and through that circle stepped two figures.

Chapter Three

I  scrambled for my broom, nearly spilling my coffee mug in the process. The outside motion sensor kicked on the floodlight, revealing two older men. Thanks to my sight, I knew they were mortal. But come on. Orange portals in the middle of the night? Nothing good ever came out of those, right?

The taller figure was Black, in his sixties, and appeared to be in a three-piece suit. In one hand, he held a small briefcase. Atop his head sat a bowler hat.

The other figure was shorter, about my height, and easily ten years older than his companion. He wore a thick wool coat that reached down to his knees. Slacks and a pair of nice leather shoes peeked out from the bottom of the coat.

“Hello, Ms. Morgan,” the older one said with a smile. “My name is Adam Essein, and this is my consigliere, Thomas Crane. Thank you for inviting us.”

Inviting you? I don’t even know you.

I stepped closer to the glass door, still holding the broom, even though it would be useless against the two humans.

“I didn’t invite you,” I said.

Adam looked momentarily surprised. “It was you who opened the note, wasn’t it? You’re Melina Morgan, daughter of Joshua and Laura Morgan, correct?” He looked around for a moment. “Isn’t this Cold Creek, North Carolina?”

How in the world did these two geezers know me and my parents?

“I don’t know anything about a note, but yes, I’m Melina Morgan, and you’re in Cold Creek.”

The friendly smile returned to the older man’s face. “Excellent, excellent. For a moment, I thought I’d portaled myself to the wrong place.” He tapped the side of his head. “The old noggin isn’t what it used to be.”

We stared at each other for several seconds. I kept trying to form a reply, to say something that didn’t sound absolutely ludicrous. Given the situation, things were already pretty ludicrous.

The younger man cleared his throat.

“Ms. Morgan, we’d much prefer discussing things inside, with your permission. The weather’s not kind to my friend.”

Adam gently patted the younger man’s arm. “Oh, hush now, Thomas, give her a moment. I’m sure this is all a tad perplexing for her.”

“That would be a major understatement,” I replied. The reliquary had mentioned nothing about mortals casting magic, much less summoning portals. Who were these guys, and how did they know about me?

I mean, they weren’t trying to break down the door, and I doubted Mrs. Tilley was in any danger from them. They seemed harmless, if not actually friendly.

That spark of hope was extinguished a moment later, when it occurred to me the pair might be working with or for the fae. If the Fair Folk wanted me dead, they didn’t necessarily have to deliver the killing blow themselves.

Worse, none of my protections would do diddly squat against the two men.

“Look,” I continued, “I don’t know who you are or how you know about me, but I’m politely asking you to leave my property before I call the police.” Mostly a bluff. The last thing I wanted to do was drag an innocent person into this mess.

Adam nodded. “As I said, I’m sure this is all disconcerting, and I know you’ve recently been through a harrowing experience. But we’re here precisely because of that. The Unseelie have found you, Ms. Morgan, and they are rallying their forces as we speak. You’re no longer safe in Cold Creek. We’re here to offer you protection. Well, quite a bit more than that, actually.” He visibly shivered. “And I wouldn’t mind warming these old bones while I present my case. Hear me out, and if you decline my offer, we’ll be out of your life forever.”

I weighed my options. I couldn’t physically stop them if they wanted to break in. Plus, I should have been having a panic attack. Instead, I had this weird feeling Adam was telling the truth. He certainly knew a lot about me, and he might be willing to share something important. Something that might actually save my life. I unlocked the door.

“Okay,” I replied. I backed up as the pair entered the kitchen. I propped the broom up in the corner. I could now see Adam had green eyes and short, gray hair. Thomas had eyes the color of a thunderstorm and moved like an athlete. The suit looked like it has been tailored for his figure. “I think I’m supposed to give you ten minutes or some kind of deadline, right?”

Adam chuckled. “I’ll settle for five and a cup of coffee. May I?” He gestured at one of the kitchen table chairs.

“Knock yourself out. You want a coffee too, mister . . .?”

“Thomas Crane. And no thank you.”

“In that case, have a seat and start talking.” Thomas removed his hat and placed it and his briefcase on the counter. The two men sat at the table. I stacked the Morton papers to clear some space. Adam accepted the cup of coffee I handed him. “Milk, sugar?”

“No, I prefer mine black, thank you. Now, Ms. Morgan—”

“Melina.”

“Melina, I’d like you to be my successor. I’m offering you the position of Steward of House Vervain.”

“Be your what as the what of what?” The words blurred in my head. This might need more than five minutes.

“I’m the current steward of House Vervain. I’m one of several stewards in the mortal mage community. The community is organized into houses. I control House Vervain, which is located in Manhattan, and I’d like to have you take it over.” He tasted the coffee. “Very good. Thank you.”

I nodded at the compliment, but my mind wasn’t on the quality of my coffee. My mind was on, well, a lot of other things.

“I’m sorry you wasted a portal coming down here, then, because I’m not leaving Cold Creek.”

Thomas leaned close to Adam and whispered something. Adam tut-tutted him.

“Thomas believes I’m making a grave mistake in offering you the house. I’ve trusted him with my life and much more, and I value his opinion. This is one extremely rare case where we disagree.”

“Well, who can blame him? I’m not exactly mage material.”

Adam’s face turned serious. “No, you’re far more than that, which is exactly why I think you’re the perfect person to inherit Vervain. You have talents you don’t even know about, Melina. We can help you learn them. More importantly, we can protect you from the Unseelie.”

I ignored that for the moment. “Let’s get back to the whole mortal mage community thingie. Are you saying there are lots of mortals running around casting magic? And no one knows about them?”

The steward shrugged. “The Fair Folk have been walking our world for centuries, and only a tiny percentage of humans know for a fact they exist. Is it truly that hard to believe there are real mages in the world who have managed to keep their existence a secret?”

He had a point, but I wasn’t going to concede anything just yet.

“The portal thing was cute, but how do I know it was really magic?”

“Hmm. I appreciate your skepticism. Was the crane not a suitable piece of evidence?”

“Humor me.”

Adam pointed at a paperclip on the table. “May I?”

I nodded.

He slipped the metal clip from a stack of papers and held it up in front of me. The steward said a bunch of words I didn’t understand, and the clip transformed into a tiny, ornate, metallic V. He held it out.

I took the newly formed piece and instantly felt the magic residue subsiding. My sight allowed me to see through illusions, and this was no illusion.

What if the sight only worked on fae illusions?

Oh, good point. If mortals are using magic that’s different from what the fae use, my sight may not work.

“Nice,” I said. “But this could all still just be smoke and mirrors.”

Adam held up a finger. “Your sight ability allows you to see past glamour and illusions, does it not? Do you detect any deception?”

“No.”

This guy knew about my ability?

Well, Nod had known. In fact, Nod had said a small number of fae knew about it, as well. If mages existed, I suppose it wasn’t impossible some of them knew, too. But paranoia is a hard habit to break.

Adam sensed the shift in my attitude. “But you’re still not convinced?”

I waved my mug in the air. “Put yourself in my shoes. The fae cursed me with the sight and have been hunting me my whole life. I’ve spent decades running and hiding from them just to stay alive. I almost got killed two days ago by a bunch of them. Then you two leave a mysterious origami on my porch and portal unannounced into my yard in the middle of the night. So, yeah, I’m a little dubious.”

Thomas cleared his throat. “You believe the sight is a curse?”

“What else would you call it?”

“For starters, a gift. The Fair Folk don’t like to reveal themselves to mortals, but they have gifted you and dozens of your ancestors with the ability to see through their glamour. They cannot hide from you. Why would they do that if not to show their good faith? They’ve made themselves vulnerable, not you. How is that a curse?”

The words had a logic I couldn’t reject, but they completely conflicted with the contents of the reliquary.

“My mother and all of her ancestors recorded their encounters with the fae. They collected their wisdom over the years and handed it down to the next generation. My family has been hiding in dead zones and running from the fae since this whole thing started.”

The pair exchanged confused looks. Adam leaned forward.

“Melina, there appears to be a grave misunderstanding, and it looks like it began a long time ago. The Seelie have been giving your family the sight all this time not to curse you but in the hopes that you might be a bridge between them and mortals. The only Fair Folk who want you dead are the Unseelie. Not only did Nod not kill you, he risked his own life to save yours. Isn’t he proof enough that you have at least a few things wrong about the fae? And if that’s true, will you still blindly cling to the rest of your beliefs? Or do you want to learn the truth?”

I didn’t like how the conversation had turned on me. Adam’s framing of my situation did raise an important question: if the reliquary was correct, why would the fae give me the sight, only to then hunt me down because I possessed the ability? You don’t intentionally give your enemy an advantage if you’re trying to kill them.

But the Fair Folk liked to zig when you expected them to zag. Attempting to discern their true motives was both dangerous and a waste of time.

“That’s how the fae are,” I said. “You can’t always understand their motives. Cursing me with an ability and then hunting me because of it isn’t as crazy as it sounds. Maybe the fae find it more interesting that way.”

The older gentleman cupped his coffee mug and leaned forward.

“Please believe me when I say the Seelie have a vested interest in keeping you alive. Especially King Oberon and Queen Aine. As for the Unseelie, you’re correct. They want you dead and buried—the sooner, the better.”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Adam, you promised you wouldn’t—”

“I promised I wouldn’t scare Melina.” Adam looked at me. “I’m not scaring you, am I?”

“I mean, I guess not.” And I wasn’t. Confused and a little rudderless but for the moment not scared.

The reliquary had lumped all fae under the adjective of “evil.” Adam’s distinction would certainly explain Nod’s actions. I began reflecting on what I’d been taught but approached it from the perspective that not all fae were evil. To my surprise, it held up.

Thomas interrupted my thoughts. “Adam, she’s better off not being dragged into things. She isn’t interested. Please stop hounding her.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” the steward replied with a light snort. He looked at me. “Am I hounding you?”

“No,” I said reflexively. “I mean, you haven’t tried to kidnap me, and that’s earned you some points.”

Adam laughed at that, a hearty and genuine expression of mirth. “I suppose that’s a start, and I’m glad for it.”

“But like I said, I’m not leaving Cold Creek. It’s protected me for most of my life. My father’s here, my friends are here. I’m not leaving it all and moving to Manhattan. There’s a ton of fae there.”

“There are thousands of fae there who need your help. Please come with me. Allow me to show you House Vervain. You can see for yourself the threat the fae live under.”

“I already know what living under a threat is. Going to Manhattan would be like painting a glow-in-the-dark bullseye on my back. I’m just trying to survive, okay? I’ve got a quiet little life here, and I don’t want to lose it.”

Adam pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “Those are perhaps the truest words you’ve said so far. Melina, I wish you could see the potential you have. And if that isn’t enough, consider the fact that Cold Creek is no longer the dead zone it used to be. The farrow and the boggarts didn’t have much trouble getting here. The Unseelie know you’re here. Your protections won’t be enough to stave off the storm that’s gathering.”

For a moment, I half considered going with them. Maybe Adam was right. Maybe the reliquary had it all wrong, and I’ve been dodging some fae who were actually my allies.

Then all of my convictions came roaring back, stomping on the seedlings of doubt Adam had planted. What was I thinking? That I could suddenly trust these two strangers? Who cared if they knew all about me? I’d stayed alive for as long as I had by following the rules Mom had drilled into me.

Stay small.

Stay hidden.

Stay safe.

And hadn’t my recent venture into Raleigh proven why I needed to stay in Cold Creek? I’d broken a rule by going there, and look what had happened. I’d bumped into a bunch of fae and spotted a couple of dearg.

If anything, I was to blame for what was happening. I hadn’t been prudent or careful enough. I’d gotten lax over the years, complacent about how real the danger was. Mistakes that were easily corrected.

I stood. “Okay, you’ve had your five minutes and a cup of coffee. I’m not interested in going to Manhattan, I don’t care about the mage community or your house thing or the fae in Manhattan. Please leave.”

I swear Thomas actually looked relieved as he gathered his hat and briefcase.

Adam looked majorly disappointed but tried to hide it. “Thank you for the coffee and your hospitality, Melina. I hope one day I can show you the beauty of Manhattan. Thomas, if you would.”

“Adam, she said no.”

“Please, Thomas.”

Thomas sighed, frowned, and reached into his jacket. He retrieved another origami crane and placed it upright on the table.

Adam said, “If you change your mind or need anything, please don’t hesitate to contact us.” He added with a grin, “I believe you know how it works.”

Chapter Four

A fter Adam and Thomas portaled back to Manhattan or wherever they were from—I still wasn’t sold on the whole mage community thing—I went to my bedroom. Using the key I kept on my necklace, I unlocked the chest holding all the personal journals of my ancestors that made up the reliquary.

Despite the Morton project and my exhaustion, I stayed up until two in the morning searching the books for anything that might support Adam’s assertions about the fae or the supposed mage community.

I found nothing that definitively changed my mind. I did, however, locate a few passages whose meaning could easily change if read from a different point of view; namely, that not all fae were evil.

For instance, the earliest references to the fae began with a more balanced position between the Seelie and Unseelie. The Seelie were initially documented as being neutral or even somewhat friendly towards mortals. Within two journals, however, the distinction between the courts narrowed. Now the Seelie were seen as more deceptive than before. Not necessarily more dangerous but a lot less trustworthy. Within another two journals, there was barely a distinction at all between the two courts.

I’d been told this was either due to a change in the Seelie Court members’ behavior or simply that my ancestors were getting more astute at assessing the Fair Folk. Given how my mother described things when I was young, dissecting the earliest journal entries felt like an academic but ultimately worthless exercise. Who cared how things had been four hundred years ago? Now, all fae were after us.

I picked up the metallic V Adam had crafted and rubbed my thumb over the smooth surface. My gut said Adam had really used magic to transform the paper clip, and if that were true, a couple of other things might also be true.

What if the early journals were the more accurate ones? What if the truth had gotten buried under years of misconceptions? And if the Seelie were always good, why had my ancestors changed their opinion? What had triggered the faulty conclusion? And why hadn’t it been corrected over time?

I dropped the V on top of the Morton papers and sighed.

Lots of questions and, for the moment, zero concrete answers.

I fed Sourdough Joe in the morning, even though I wasn’t planning on baking any bread tomorrow. Joe preferred regular feedings. I’d also learned not to make Joe unhappy. My bread didn’t turn out as well when he was feeling grumpy.

Righto, that’s a good feeding, Melina. Thanks ever so much!

The two dough balls had risen beautifully overnight. I did three lifts to stretch each of them and moved the bowls to the fridge. The dough would proof for an hour or two before I baked it after my visit with Dad. I wanted to check on him and the wards around his home. I’d believed forever that the fae had zero interest in him. He didn’t have the sight, so why bother with him? After the past week, I wasn’t so sure.

While I was gone, the oven and cast-iron pots would preheat and be ready to go by the time I got back. The drive to Dad’s house was short and thankfully uneventful.

“Weekly ward inspector!” I said as I rang Dad’s doorbell. “Open up!”

Joshua Morgan opened his front door and grinned at me. “Come on in, inspector. I’ve still got some coffee if you’re interested.”

“As long as you’re not trying to bribe me,” I replied and stepped inside. My father was sixty-two years old but had a lean body and sharp black eyes. Most of the Cold Creek males had put on a few extra pounds by their sixties. Not Dad. The only indication of his age was the thin streaks of gray in his brown hair.

Dad was dressed for the day. An early riser for as long as I could remember, he wasn’t one for wasting daylight hours. Mom used to say, “I swear that man would implode if he sat still for more than five minutes, and you can take that to the bank.” He’d probably already logged a couple of hours of work, or as he called it, puttering around the house.

“How’d things go at Morton yesterday?”

“Good,” I said. “It’s a crazy tight deadline, but I can handle it.”

“‘I can handle it’ is your middle name,” Dad replied, and his grin widened. “Even when you can’t.”

I waved a hand at him. “Says you. Okay, let’s see how your wards are doing.”

I thoroughly swept the place and touched up a couple of things. I noted he could use some fresh flowers in one vase, and I considered whether another wind chime outside was in order.

When I’d finished, he sat in his red leather recliner, and I took my usual place on the sofa.

“When was the last time you changed the salt in your windows and thresholds?” I asked.

“Late summer, maybe?” That tracked with my memory. “Why?”

“I put down fresh lines last week at my place, thought I might do the same for you.” I’d tried to be nonchalant and aimed for a casual tone. I must have fumbled it.

“Did something happen?” Dad asked.

“What? No. It’s just been a while.” I glanced out the kitchen window, worried I’d see a fae staring back at me.

Dad’s mouth turned down and threatened to become a full-on frownie face. Dad didn’t believe me, but he was going to let the matter drop. He changed the topic.

“Ready for Millie’s party?”

“Sure am. I’ll bake two loaves as soon as I get home, and Dee’s coming over later to help me bake cookies.”

Dad rubbed his hands together. “I’ll be rolling my way home tonight, stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

“Like the happiest Thanksgiving turkey ever.”

“And you’ll have a hard time missing me in my sweater.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? Are you ever going to give up that silly tradition?”

“Silly? There’s nothing silly about a green sweater with red reindeer sipping hot chocolate, except perhaps the hot chocolate.” Dad waggled his thumbs in the air. “They can’t hold coffee mugs with their hooves, you know.”

I resisted another eye roll—barely—and glanced over at the kitchen window again.

“What is it, Melina? You’ve been eyeing the windows since you got here, and you’ve never changed the salt lines more than once a year. What’s happened?”

Oh, if you only knew.

But you won’t, because if I told you, you’d freak out, and I don’t want to worry you.

“Nothing. I’m just a little stressed about the Morton project.”

“Mmm.” He still didn’t believe me. “Hey, did you hear about Skeeter?”

A flash of panic seized my chest. “Skeeter?”

“Says he saw some creatures down by Kincaid Lake.”

“Really?”

Keep it together, Melina.

“Two creatures that weren’t quite human and weren’t quite four-legged. Said they spooked his dog, Otis.”

“You think he saw some fae?” I asked.

“You tell me. You’re the resident expert. Are there fae in Cold Creek?”

Dang it, he knows. Somehow he knows something’s up.

“Well, if there are any fae in Cold Creek now, I haven’t seen them.” I chose my words carefully, not wanting to outright lie to my father. But deep down, I knew I was lying all the same. “And if they are here, I’ve got our homes locked up tight. They’re practically fortresses at this point. I’ll bet you a dinner at Millie’s that the closest we come to seeing any fae will be Skeeter and Joe at tonight’s party.”

The pair made it a habit to show up in pointy ears and pointy hats for Millie’s Christmas party. I never told them elves don’t wear pointy hats.

Dad nodded silently and made a soft grunt. “Our two resident holiday spirits, eh?”

I laughed. It came out forced and hollow. “Right? Those guys are a stitch.”

I thought Dad was going to drop the topic, but he circled around for another run. “Lucky news about Sophie.”

“Sophie? What’s up with Jerry’s dog?”

“Heard she ran off earlier this week and then showed up again out of the blue.” His eyes lifted, and he looked right at me. “Figured you would have heard about that, given you live right next door to Jerry.”

Rather than deny knowing anything about it—I actually knew everything about it—I pretended to suddenly remember the incident.

“Oh, right! I’d forgotten about that. Yeah, totally weird. No clue how she escaped.”

No way out of it now. I was lying to my father, something I hadn’t done since I was ten. A queasy feeling slithered through my stomach. I hated lying. However, I’d hidden so much from him already that if I came clean now, I didn’t think he’d ever trust me again.

So, I kept rolling with the deception.

How long I could keep it rolling was the question. Cold Creek was a small town. I should have known Dad would hear about Skeeter’s creature-spotting and Sophie’s mysterious disappearance and equally mysterious return.

The downside to living in Cold Creek was everyone pretty much knew everyone else’s business. Make one little mistake, and the whole town would be talking about it by morning.

Which raised a different but related concern: how to deal with the fae if they returned? Did I really think I could keep the fae under wraps? What if Nod hadn’t been so careful? What if someone had spotted the boggarts or suspected there were supernatural forces at play?

Also, Nod’s arrival wound up being the only reason I was still alive. If I couldn’t protect myself without help, how could I possibly expect to protect everyone else?

Well, I’ll just have to make sure the fae steer clear of Cold Creek. And if they don’t, I’ll figure out something. I always have. Isn’t that my reputation?

As if he read my mind, Dad said, “You know, we’ve had a lovely life here. It’s a nice town with nice people. Could have easily gone a different direction. But I’d give it all up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you safe.”

“We aren’t going to have to leave. I’ve got the reliquary. Mom taught me a lot before she died. And we’ve been fine for thirty years. Don’t start worrying about having to move. I’ll keep us safe.”

He put on a sad smile. “It’s not your job to keep me safe. I think it’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but you weren’t the one cursed with the sight. Let me do my thing, okay?”

Whatever was going through Dad’s head, he finally decided to let the matter drop. Maybe he believed me, maybe he didn’t. All I cared about was he’d let me off the hot seat. For now, anyway.

“Want me to swing by this afternoon?” he asked. “Anything need fixing at your place?”

“No, thanks. Everything’s fine.” I checked the time. “Hey, I have to be at Mrs. Tilley’s in twenty minutes. See you tonight?”

He stood and gave me a long hug. “Count on it. Reindeer sweater and all.”

Chapter Five

T ea with Tilley was a Saturday tradition that had started almost as soon as I moved into my current home. The name wasn’t technically correct, as I always drank coffee at her place while she drank tea.

Mrs. Tilley invited me over for tea every two or three weeks, and she made it special in lots of little ways.

First off, Cold Creek didn’t have a lot of tea drinkers. Coffee was the preferred morning beverage.

Second, Mrs. Tilley broke out her really nice china, which always left me feeling special.

Third, we sat in her living room. Up until last week, when Nod and I had to return Mrs. Tilley’s soul to her body, I’d never set foot beyond the living room.

Lastly, I swear she gussied up her hair for the occasion.

The whole thing had an air of civility and formality, and Mrs. Tilley acted as if she were hosting the Queen of England, even though it was just a technical writing contractor trying to make ends meet.

“Sit down, dear, sit down.” Mrs. Tilley had already laid out a platter of tiny triangle sandwiches, cookies, and treats, but my eyes went straight to the slices of buttered toast. I recognized the bread right away—it was from a loaf of sourdough I’d given her a few days earlier. “It’s good to see you.”

I sat in a large, overstuffed chair. Mrs. Tilley perched primly on the edge of an upright armchair. Her back was as straight as a poker player’s face who had just drawn a royal flush. She wore a fancy dress with a cameo brooch pinned near her collar.

I watched her carefully, looking for any signs she might be suffering from side effects after having her soul imprisoned beneath my gazebo.

If I hadn’t been so worried about her, I’d have cancelled the tea date. I was anxious to get back to the Morton project. Thankfully, she appeared to be fine. Her hands didn’t shake by even a hair as she poured a cup of tea for herself and a cup of strong black coffee for me. Based on the scent of apricots and peaches in the air, I suspected she was enjoying her usual: Darjeeling black tea.

“It’s great to see you, too,” I replied. “Thank you for having me over.”

“Nonsense. It’s the very least I could do, given how much help you’ve been. And don’t be shy with the apple butter. There’s a fresh jar waiting for you to take home when you leave.” She winked at me, like it was a little secret between us.

I took her at her word and slathered a piece of buttered toast with a generous amount of apple butter. Mrs. Tilley made the best toast imaginable. Somehow, each slice was perfectly browned. I crunched through a small bite, enjoying the sweet and savory flavors.

Mrs. Tilley lifted a small square of shortbread from the porcelain tray and nibbled on it.

“In fact,” she continued, “I was thinking about my apple butter recipe. I don’t have any family left to give it to, and since you’re my most frequent customer, I was thinking I’d leave the recipe for you one day.”

I nearly choked on my toast.

“Me?”

“Would that be a problem?”

The only problem would be if I started making gallons of the stuff, which I totally would.

“No, no problem at all. I’d be honored.”

“Good to have that settled, then. You know, I got it from another Cold Creek resident, Jessica Sinclair. She passed away well before you and your father arrived. I used to run errands for her when I was a wee thing, trips to the grocery store or pharmacy, things like that, and she always paid me with toast and apple butter.”

“I recognize the name, but I didn’t know about her having the recipe first. I thought it was something handed down through your family.”

“Well, Jessica was as close to family as she could get without being a blood relation. She was old enough to be my grandmother, and I suspected she viewed me as the granddaughter she never had. She was born and raised in Cold Creek, and, God willing, I’ll leave the world in the same way. Am I wrong to suspect you aren’t leaving our little town anytime soon?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s why I figured I’d carry on Jessica’s tradition. Hand over the recipe to someone who loves it as much as I do. And when it’s time, you can give it to another young Cold Creek resident with a sweet tooth. Doesn’t that sound like a lovely tradition?”

I sipped my coffee to hide the stinging in my eyes. It wasn’t lost on me that the relationship between Mrs. Tilley and Jessica had been recreated between the two of us. I mowed Mrs. Tilley’s yard in the summer and helped her get through the winter months. And she was the grandmother I’d never really known. Mom had insisted on keeping us isolated from other family members as much as possible.

“It absolutely sounds like a lovely tradition, and I’m happy to be part of it.”

My connection to Cold Creek deepened thirty fathoms in that moment. Adam’s offer to go to Manhattan seemed even more ludicrous. Give all this up and move to a big city, where I’d be hunted by fae? Adam Essein might be a talented mage, but he was about as sharp as a bag of bowling balls.

And, truth be told, I’d always imagined myself following Mrs. Tilley’s life. Maybe married, maybe not, but definitely growing old in Cold Creek.

“Now, are you excited about the party tonight?” she asked.

I nodded. “I just came from my father’s, and he’s planning on wearing that sweater again.” I didn’t do an eye roll, but my expression transmitted my feelings perfectly fine.

“Oh, now, don’t deny him a little frivolity, dear. When you get on a bit more in years, you find pleasure in the smaller things in life. Besides, I think Millie gets a kick out of it.”

I placed my hand over my chest and grinned. “Well, in that case, who am I to stop her from getting her kicks?”

“Indeed.” Mrs. Tilley winked and delicately sipped her tea, the steam momentarily blurring her face. She stared off out the window for a moment. “You know, I almost left our little town. Once in a blue moon, I still wonder what my life might have been like.”

I’m not sure what triggered the comment. Perhaps our talk of tradition or maybe the annual holiday party. The words came as a surprise to me. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a trip that lasted longer than two days.

“What happened?” I asked.

She gave the slightest of shrugs. “I had an opportunity to move to Europe and continue studying the violin. I would have learned from the best and spent years touring the world.”

“I didn’t know you play the violin.”

Mrs. Tilley smiled at that. “Played, dear, played. I haven’t picked up the violin in decades. I don’t even have my old one anymore.”

Something about her smile, combined with the sudden realization I was just now learning about her musical talent, made me sad. To be sure, Cold Creek was a sweet little town and had its charms. But to walk away from world-level fame and success and hole up here?

“What made you stay?”

“My husband, Mack. Actually, he was just my boyfriend at the time. We weren’t even engaged, but I knew he was the one. Mack wasn’t as taken as I was with the idea of seeing Europe and sharpening my skills. He was born here, sixth-generation Cold Creek family. I would have gone to Europe if it wasn’t for my heartsick devotion to Mack. I loved him, and he loved Cold Creek. The math was simple.” Another shrug. “I stayed. I packed up my violin and tried never to think of what might have been.”

I couldn’t imagine giving up such an amazing life, even if it meant spending decades in a quaint coastal town full of lovely people.

“Mack was a gentleman, and I loved him,” I said. “I can see why you stayed.”

“I stayed because of what I cared about. That caring was an anchor, but in a good way. In another life I might have left home, and I might have had a lovely time of it. But I made my choice, and I have no regrets because I stayed for the right reasons.” She eyed me over her teacup. “Have you truly never thought about leaving Cold Creek?”

I took a bite of toast to buy some time. Back in middle school, I sometimes imagined leaving for a big city, but by high school, I gave up on that dream. Ever since, I’d been content to stay in Cold Creek.

I couldn’t entertain the idea of leaving, because I couldn’t imagine where I’d go. Another dead zone? Start a whole new life where I’d have to make all new friends and recreate all the wards around my home?

Perhaps it was simply too much effort to leave, so I took the course of least resistance and stayed. Perhaps I’d internalized my rationalizations for staying single and remaining in the tiny town and could no longer consider a situation where leaving was remotely appealing.

Or perhaps I really did love it there.

“Sure,” I replied, “but when all was said and done, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. There are too many things keeping me here.”

Mrs. Tilley gently placed her teacup on the saucer and gave me a look of compassion.

“Dear, it’s not the staying or leaving that’s the problem. It’s the reason that can trip you up. Leaving because you’re running away from something is just as bad as staying because you’re hiding from something. The demons you don’t want to face have a tendency to show up when you least expect it.”

Chapter Six

M rs. Tilley’s words were still echoing in my head as I prepped the sourdough loaves for baking. I lined the cast-iron pots with parchment paper and gently moved the loaves into the pots. Using a lame, I made two quick slices across the tops to form an X.

As the bread expanded in the oven, the slices would control where the crust broke. Without the lines, the bread would explode in random ways while cooking. That wouldn’t affect the taste, but I wanted the prettiest possible loaves for Millie’s party.

And I wanted to zhuzh things up a touch more to really make the loaves pop. I laid a paper doily across each loaf and sprinkled white flour on top. I carefully lifted the doilies, revealing an intricate design, like a massive snowflake.

I popped the loaves into the oven and covered the pots. The loaves would cook for thirty minutes covered, then twenty minutes uncovered. I set the timer and sat down at my kitchen table. Dee wasn’t coming over for at least three hours, and I planned on spending all that time on the Morton project.

While the bread baked, I continued fleshing out the user manual outline and getting my head around the functionality of the Focal camera. Not just what it did but how it did it.

A lot of new technical writers made the mistake of focusing too much on explaining what a device did. The trick to writing excellent manuals was to focus on how you used the device to make it do what you wanted it to do.

Fifty minutes later, the timer dinged a second time. The bread loaves had turned out fantastic, and I set them on a rack to cool for a few hours. All bread needed to rest after baking, but sourdough required the most amount of time. Ideally, they needed four hours to let the moisture fully leave the loaf.

I snacked as I worked, but my progress kept getting snagged by Mrs. Tilley’s words.

Leaving because you’re running away from something is just as bad as staying because you’re hiding from something.

There wasn’t any way she could know about my sight or the fae. Even so, her comment stuck with me like a burr on a dog’s bum. It irritated me until I finally gave up on the user manual and took a break.

I wasn’t running from anything, but I was absolutely hiding from something. Well, someones. A lot of someones.

Was she saying I should leave Cold Creek? Was staying only delaying the inevitable? Was it making the inevitable encounter worse?

Adam had said Cold Creek wasn’t the dead zone it used to be. Mom never taught me how to measure the strength of a dead zone, though I remembered some entries in the reliquary about identifying them.

Mom had kept a list of locations in the U.S. identified by our ancestors as dead zones. That’s how she knew to tell Dad about Cold Creek. She said if anything happened to her or the fae found us in Nebraska, Cold Creek was a great place to hide out.

The recent appearances of the fae seemed to support Adam’s statement about the dead zone changing. And if he was right, were things about to get worse?

Slow down, Melina, slow down. You’ve been through a lot in a very short period of time. Don’t make any rash decisions. Hopping in your sedan and fleeing Cold Creek in a panic is far more dangerous than staying too long. Besides, you’ll figure it out. You always have.

Yeah, but the fae have always stayed away from Cold Creek until now.

My doorbell rang.

Dee!

I opened the door. “Dashford!”

She gave me a hug and went straight to the kitchen. Her long brown hair bounced around in a ponytail, and her hazel eyes went wide. “Oh my stars, Melina, the bread smells amazing! Is this for the party?”

“Yep. So are the cookies we’re going to bake.”

“All of the cookies?” Dee asked while she waggled her eyebrows.

“Pfff. Course not. We have to perform a quality check.”

“I’m thinking two. Maybe three. Five, tops.”

I laughed. “We’ll make an extra batch just to be safe.”

We pulled together the ingredients for sugar cookies and a bunch of holiday cookie cutters and spent a couple of hours baking cookies. And I’d be lying if I said we didn’t quality check the raw dough, too.

“So,” Dee said as she pulled her red hair back and redid her ponytail, “did you hear about Travis Leeds?”

“Who hasn’t? Hometown boy goes off to college, then to Wall Street, and makes a boatload of money?”

Dee grinned, her excitement on obvious display. “He’s moving back home.”

“What? No way.”

“Way. In fact, he’ll be at Millie’s party tonight. He’s visiting his folks this weekend, but the rumor is he’ll be moving back by Christmas.” Her expression turned serious. “I heard he’s buying Greenwood Estate.”

My turn to be serious. “That’s a boat herd of money.” Then the dominos started falling. “Wait, wasn’t he your high school crush?”

She looked down at the bowl of cookie dough. “Maybe.”

“Dashford, you little minx. You’re going after Travis at Millie’s party tonight!”

Dee wrinkled her nose. “Is it that crazy?”

“How do you know he’s single?”

“Oh. Rodney Chambers works for Travis’s dad, and he told his friend, Hank, that Travis just broke up with his girlfriend. Hank’s brother knows my cousin, Freddy, and Freddy told my friend Helen.” Delivered in a matter-of-fact, this-explains-it-all-clearly tone.

That’s how information travels in a small town. If you want to spread news about something fast, just tell the first person you see but make sure you tell them to keep it a secret. The whole town will know by sunset.

“You haven’t seen him in almost ten years, Dashford. You barely know him.”

“What’s that got to do with the price of bacon at the butchery? I’ll get to know him. And he’ll get to know me, and before you know it, he’ll realize I’m the girl he’s been trying to find all these years. If he’d just stayed in Cold Creek, he could have saved himself a decade of searching.”

She looked very pleased with herself, and I couldn’t fully stifle a laugh.

“I swear, if you set your sights on something, you always achieve it. Should I start shopping for wedding gifts now or later?”

Dee winked at me. “I’ll have the registry up after the party. Don’t want to spook him, you know?”

“Well,” I said, “the good news is, these cookies are going to be amazing. Give him a couple, and you’re halfway home.”

“If only it was that easy,” she whispered. “Let’s start punching out cookies, or there won’t be any dough left for the party.”

We rolled out the dough a section at a time, using the cookie cutters until there was nothing but dough scraps left, and started the whole process all over again. I could squeeze in three cookie trays at a time in my oven, so it wouldn’t take more than two or three baking rounds to cook all the dough.

“How’s the new gig?” Dee asked.

“It’s going to be a tight project. They pulled a switcheroo on me with the deadline. Ten days, which is less than half for a typical user manual.”

“Not cool.”

I sighed. “My direct report’s a nice enough guy, and the money’s good enough. If I deliver this project on time, there will be a lot more to follow.”

Dee squinted her eyes at me. “That’s what you said about the last project. They’re going to keep this up as long as you’re willing to work for peanuts and not complain about unrealistic deadlines.”

“No, it won’t be like that. And the VP all but promised me a full-time job if they like my work on this manual.”

Dee looked at me like I’d sprouted antlers. “You told me last week you had no interest in a full-time job with them.”

“Well, I’ve got no interest in moving to Raleigh, but if I could work remotely, that wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Melina, why are you still in Cold Creek scratching around for sucky jobs from a company who won’t pay you what you’re worth? You absolutely should be living in Raleigh or Charlotte or some big city making tons of money. You want to still be here when you’re eighty?”

I wouldn’t mind being the next Mrs. Tilley. She’s got a nice life here.

She only stayed here because she fell in love with someone who didn’t want to leave. Your dating life is non-existent, so . . .

“What’s wrong with growing old in a quiet little town?” I asked.

“For most people, nothing. But you’re not most people, Melina. It’s almost like you intentionally hide your talents so you have an excuse to stay here. Cold Creek is a nice town, and it’s filled with nice people. Like I said, great for most people. For the rest, it’s like being forced to live in a fishbowl. Your life can only get so big.”

“Travis Leeds went from the high school football captain to a millionaire.”

“Only after he left Cold Creek. He’d never have made that money if he’d stayed here.”

This wasn’t the first time we’d had this discussion. Dee had been trying to get out of Cold Creek since she’d graduated high school. I always thought she would, too. Part of me was glad my best friend had stayed. The other part of me was sad she hadn’t.

Every time Dee brought up the topic, we followed the same script. Dee would talk about how easy it would be for me to leave, and she’d question why I hadn’t. I’d dodge the truth—that I was hiding from the fae—and play the role of the devoted daughter. Dad wasn’t leaving, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him. I’d list off all the great things about living in Cold Creek. She’d disagree, and the conversation would eventually move on to another topic.

And as the years rolled by, I began questioning Dee’s insistence that she wanted out. She didn’t have family holding her back, and she was single. She made decent money at Doc Green’s vet clinic. Surely Dee could have left at any time. It wasn’t like Raleigh or Charlotte didn’t have vet offices.

This time, though, the whole thing felt different. There was a charged energy to the conversation, and despite our years of friendship, the words we exchanged had a surprisingly prickly edge to them.

“Hey,” I said. “This isn’t about Travis or me, is it?”

Dee looked away and sighed. “I just never thought I’d still be here at my age. I knew, I mean I just knew with a hundred percent certainty, that I was always going to get out of here. Then one year turned into two and two into ten, and now I’m thirty-five and still working at Doc Green’s. I’m not even sure I could leave if someone handed me a prepaid first-class ticket. I’m scared—”

Holy moly. Fear was keeping Dee here. That’s why she’d been pushing me so hard for so long. She realized she never would.

I came around the table and pulled her into a hug.

“You were the county champion in long-distance running sophomore year in high school, and you swore the track team would take first place at the state championships a year later. Our junior year you made team captain, and you led us to victory. You can do whatever you want, Dee Ashford.”

Dee pulled back.

“But what if I’m not meant for bigger things? What if I leave and fall on my face and have to come crawling back? What if this is as bright and big as my life gets? You’re special, Melina, you always have been. Cold Creek is where special goes to die.”

My eyes drifted over Dee’s shoulder to the pergola in my backyard. The past week’s events flipped through my head in a matter of seconds: Nod’s arrival, the boggarts, the farrow, Mrs. Tilley’s soul being planted in the night anchor.

Were it not for the dwarf’s intervention, I’d be dead, and Mrs. Tilley’s soul would be forever trapped in the anchor, fueling more boggarts. Who knew how much havoc the farrow could have done in Cold Creek with a dozen of the fae at their command?

All because of you, Melina, all because of you.

I didn’t buy Dee’s talk about me being special any more than I believed Cold Creek was a town that reduced everyone to a life of mediocrity. But I suspected she might be right about me needing to leave.

Chapter Seven

M illie’s looked and sounded like the perfect distraction I needed from life. Between the Morton project, my encounters with the fae, and Dee’s confession, I wasn’t my usual self.

I’d snagged another hour of work on the Focal manual after Dee had left, and Millie’s party was going to be a final hurrah before I dove full-time into the manual. I’d spend the next week holed up at my house and working around the clock. If all went well, I’d surface in time to enjoy some more holiday celebrations before Christmas.

But that ignored the evidence that at least some of the fae were still after me. And since only Dad and I knew about them, we were the only two in a position to protect Cold Creek. Even so, I was the only one gifted with the sight. The bulk of the responsibility for keeping my town safe fell on my shoulders.

And what to make of Adam Essein and his claims about the mortal mages? If that was true, there was a whole other world I knew nothing about. Were the mages trustworthy? What was their agenda?

Topping it all off was seeing my best friend admit she was too scared to follow her dream. That she might be settling for a life far less glamorous than the one she’d imagined growing up. Meanwhile, she’d watched me sit around Cold Creek and ignore all the opportunities I had to bolt to a big city.

No wonder she was so upset.

The worst part? If I could tell her the truth, she’d understand why I’d stayed, but I obviously couldn’t do that.

So, yeah, I totally needed the distraction of Millie’s annual holiday party.

“Melina! Merry Christmas!” Millie was decked out in a green dress with red-and-white trim and a conical hat. She looked at the foil-covered plates in my hands. “And what in the world did you bring?”

“Nothing much. Just a couple of loaves of my sourdough bread.”

You’d have thought I’d handed her a treasure chest of gold coins.

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing on two legs! Thank you so much!”

She took the plates and busied herself with arranging them on a long table already filled with a feast of foods. Country ham, biscuits, sausage puffs, beef tenderloin, shrimp and grits, green bean casserole, nuts, olives, turkey, cornbread dressing, dinner rolls the size of baseballs, pecan pie, bread pudding, and more.

Some of the dishes were Millie’s, while the rest were brought by certain Cold Creek residents. Mrs. Tilley contributed the beef tenderloin, for example, and had done so for as long as I could remember. No one in their right mind would think of bringing a second beef tenderloin. Not if they want to be invited to the next holiday party, anyway.

Skeeter Wilson and Joe Edmundson were off in a corner, holding plastic cups filled with the spiked punch that was Skeeter’s signature contribution. The pair had gone all out this year on their elf costumes, which included curly-toed shoes with bells. Based on the volume of their laughter, they were well past their first cup.

My neighbor, Jerry Montrose, was chatting with Doc Green. Jerry’s golden retriever, Sophie, wagged her tail and meandered through the crowd in search of dropped food or, more often than not, a snack covertly slipped to the dog. Sophie would go home a few pounds heavier that night.

“Merry Christmas, Melina!”

I turned and found Mrs. Tilley standing next to me.

I hugged her. “Merry Christmas.”

“Millie outdid herself, didn’t she?”

I looked around the restaurant, which was barely recognizable under all the decorations Millie and others had brought in. Tinsel and garlands hung from every wall. A massive tree stood guard by the front door, handmade ornaments weighing down its limbs. Fake snow covered the tables, counter, and, increasingly, the floor. White and colored light strands blinked merrily.

“She always does,” I replied with a grin.

Mrs. Tilley waved at the newest arrival and excused herself. I sidled up to Dee, who was by the punch bowl.

“’Bout time you got here, Melina, I was starting to worry.” Dee was dressed in a fancy white blouse and a skirt that swished around a lot. The complete opposite of our Slumming Saturday attire. And no ponytail that night, either. She’d styled her hair and was wearing an unusually high amount of makeup. She handed me a cup of punch.

“Well, I’m here now,” I replied, “so let the partying officially begin!” We carefully clinked our cups together and toasted each other. “Where’s Mr. Leeds?”

Dee grinned and nodded towards the back of the restaurant. Travis was sitting in a booth with his back to us, a couple of his old football teammates sitting or standing next to him. He was holding court, just like he did back in high school.

Some things never changed.

“Spoken to him yet?” I asked.

“No. Working up my courage.”

“Don’t wait too long. Once the boys are full of punch or whatever they snuck in under their jackets, they’ll soon be off to tip some cows.”

Dee laughed. “Boys will be boys. Oh, hey, Mr. Morgan! Merry Christmas!”

Dad waved at us. He’d followed through on his threat to wear his reindeer sweater.

“Evening, ladies, what are we drinking?”

“Skeeter’s antifreeze, if I’m not mistaken,” I said.

“Extra-strong batch this year?” Dad asked.

Dee said, “Let’s just say I hope Millie’s sprinklers are working, because if anyone lights a match too close to that punch bowl, we’re all going to be yule logs.”

We cracked up at that.

Dee polished off her drink. “Okay, I see an opening. I’m going in. Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” I said as she waltzed over to Travis’s table. She stopped halfway, doubled back to the food table, and filled a plate of the sugar cookies we made.

“What’s she up to?” Dad asked.

“Travis Leeds.”

Dad nodded and his mouth silently made an O shape. “Good luck, Ms. Ashford.”

“More like ‘Good luck, Mr. Leeds.’ She deserves the best, and I’m not sure he’ll make the first round of cuts.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I barely know him. Haven’t seen him in ten years. But I know Dee. She’s all kinds of awesome, and if she’s going to date anyone, she deserves the very best.”

Dee stopped by the table and held out the cookies. A round of smiles circled the table, followed by a joke from Dee that got the boys laughing. Travis slid over to make room in the booth for Dee. The cookies vanished a few seconds later.

Atta girl, Dashford.

“Well, she’s off to a good start,” Dad said.

I barely heard him. My attention was no longer on Dee. It was on the pair of elves standing under the streetlight outside the restaurant.

I made a thoroughly impolite path to the front door, offering apologies as I accidentally bumped into several people. I banged through the front door and made a beeline for the streetlight. The two elves were already gone.

A car motored off somewhere a block or two away. A dog gave a single howl. The muffled sounds of the party floated in the air, which was crisp and cold. Overhead, a waning moon offered a pale light.

I turned in a slow circle, scanning the area. The elves weren’t the blue-skinned dearg I’d seen earlier, though that was small relief. Fae continued entering Cold Creek, and I couldn’t do a thing about it.

I couldn’t possibly patrol the entire town day and night searching for fae. Even if I found one, what then? The fae were slipping into the dead zone and standing up against all the wards in my house. Presuming I confronted one, how could I possibly force them to leave?

The crunching of leaves behind me nearly made me jump.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Dad asked. His eyebrows were huddled together in concern. “I saw you dash out of there.”

“It was nothing. I thought I saw a coyote, but I must have been mistaken.”

“You thought you saw a coyote.” He put his hands in his pockets and leaned towards me. “You feel like telling me what’s really going on?”

Our eyes connected, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep lying to him.

“I thought I saw two elves under the streetlight just now.”

“That’s impossible,” he replied. Then, with far less confidence, “Isn’t it?”

I told him all about what had happened in the last week, and I didn’t leave out any details. My breath made white clouds in the air, and my nose had turned cold, but once I started, I didn’t want to stop until I’d come completely clean.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to bother you or make you worry, Dad. I figured—”

“You figured you’d handle it.”

I sighed. “Yeah. But now I’m not sure I ever had a handle on things.”

“We should leave. Tonight. Right now. There’s a dead zone five hours away. We can pay to have someone collect our things and ship them out. We’ll start over.”

“Dad, I love you, but I’m not sure you’re thinking this through. First off, I said I thought I saw two elves. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe my paranoia was tricking my brain. Second, if Cold Creek is no longer as dead of a dead zone as it used to be, who’s to say the others haven’t lost their effectiveness, too? And fleeing in the middle of the night without preparations is probably more dangerous than staying.”

He considered my comments, and I think he realized I was making some good points.

“Okay, what do we do?”

“For starters, head back into the party. I don’t want to let on to anyone else that something’s up. We’ll hang around for ten minutes and then say our goodbyes. I’ll come up with a plan by tomorrow morning. It’ll be safer if we leave during the day.”

“I should stay with you tonight,” Dad countered.

“No. I mean, I don’t agree. You’re in more danger if you’re near me.”

“But I can’t protect you if I’m not. I’m not a helpless man.”

I said, “I know, and I’m sorry for implying that. But I think we need to pretend everything’s fine, because it probably is. Act normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Let’s not draw attention to ourselves. In the meantime, I’ll come up with something. I promise.”

He frowned but didn’t argue. He held out his arm. “Back inside, then?”

I slipped my arm through his, and we walked back to the party as if our worlds weren’t about to be turned inside out.

Dee was still sitting next to Travis. Very close to Travis, actually. I didn’t want to interrupt whatever was unfolding between them. I said goodbye to most of the guests and thanked Millie for throwing another awesome party. I left first, and Dad was to follow a few minutes later.

I got home and made yet another full sweep of my house and my yards. Everything was fine, though clouds had slipped across the moon, which deepened the shadows and heightened my fears.

I texted Dad that I was okay. He replied a minute later to say he was safely home, too.

The stack of Morton papers and my laptop felt like they were mocking me.

You think the deadline’s your biggest problem? Think again, Ms. Morgan!

It was just after nine o’clock, and I was more than a little wired. I made some buttered toast with apple butter and ate and thought and worked on the user manual. An hour later, I’d convinced myself I’d imagined the two elves at the party. The fae probably were still coming after me, but they weren’t sniffing around my front door yet. I had time to work up a plan.

I could check the reliquary for ways to boost the effectiveness of my wards. I could limit the time away from my house. I could stop taking any consulting work that required travel of any kind. If the fae wanted me dead, they were going to find it wouldn’t be so easy.

By the time I drifted off to sleep, I felt like I’d gotten a handle on things. The situation was manageable, as long as I didn’t allow myself to get rattled. Every problem had a solution if you looked hard enough.

Most importantly, I knew I could figure this out. I’d save myself and protect Cold Creek.

I could totally handle this.

Chapter Eight

I  totally could not handle this.

The morning had started out fine. I woke up feeling even more confident about things. I’d texted Dad to check in on him. He’d replied immediately and said he was standing by for orders.

I’d also fired off a series of question marks to Dee. I fed Sourdough Joe, patting the small glass jar and praising him for his help yesterday. I’d already gotten a few emails about how delicious my bread was.

The morning routine—more of a ritual at this point—gave me even more confidence that things would work out. Adam and Thomas? A couple of hucksters trying to pull some kind of scam. The dearg elves? Pure coincidence. The boggarts and farrow? A one-off incident.

Things in Cold Creek were back to normal, and they’d stay that way.

I made two slices of toast and a large black coffee before settling down at the kitchen table. Today was all about the Focal manual. No more baking or parties or tea until I’d finished the project.

Two hours later, I stood and stretched. I’d made enough progress to feel better about the deadline. I found more emails in my inbox about my bread. I dressed and made another pot of coffee to keep me caffeinated for round two of the Focal manual.

My phone rang.

“Hey, Dashford.”

“Hey. What happened to you last night? I turned around, and you were gone.”

“Ha! No wonder you didn’t see me leave. You were all eyes for Travis. Probably didn’t even miss me. The better question is what happened with you and your new beau.”

The silence on the other end stretched out for seconds.

“Yeah, that’s a big no-go.”

“Oh, sweetie, what happened? What did he do?”

“Nothing. He just showed me who he really is.”

“And who’s that?”

“An arrogant snob who thinks he’s the bee’s knees.”

I imagined a few scenarios about how last night had played out. If Travis had said anything to hurt Dee’s feelings, I would make him pay in the most imaginative ways. I was incredibly creative when it came to defending those I cared about.

“What did he say to you?”

“Oh, he was perfectly polite to me. But after thirty minutes of listening to the jerk complain about how there wasn’t any decent food in Cold Creek and how he was moving back home to save on taxes but couldn’t wait to retire early so he can buy an island in the Caribbean or whatever, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“You deserve better. Way better.”

“I know.”

I sighed and glanced out at the backyard. My heart skipped a beat.

Something was different. Wrong. Really wrong.

It took me a few seconds to realize I couldn’t hear the wind chimes hanging from my eaves. The trees behind my house swayed in the wind. The chimes should have been making a huge racket.

More bad news: the iron stakes in my backyard were gone, as were the iron decorations I’d placed around the yard.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Dee, I need to call you back, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks.”

I reached for the rowan broom in the corner. Paranoia or not, I couldn’t ignore what my eyes were showing me. Someone had methodically stripped every ward and charm from my backyard. I stood frozen in fear, gripping the broom’s wooden handle and trying to will my feet to move.

Two familiar-looking dearg suddenly appeared on top of the fence. And I mean they were literally balanced on the fence, casually standing there and assessing the yard.

Buttermilk biscuits.

The morning sun beamed over the fence. I knew the window’s glare would prevent them from seeing inside my house. What I didn’t know was whether the salt lines, flowers, or mirrors would deter them from entering.

Hey, maybe these dearg belong to the Seelie Court. I wouldn’t mind if the reliquary was wrong about that.

The two fae drew long daggers that glowed red.

Yeah, they probably aren’t in the Seelie Court.

I backed away from the sliding door, bumping into the kitchen table as I did. Could I make it to my car before they caught me? I turned to look for my keys when another thought hit me: the origami crane.

You aren’t seriously considering summoning that crackpot peddler of parlor tricks, are you?

You have a better suggestion?

Um . . . how does that origami thing work again?

I flicked through papers on the kitchen table, ignoring the mess as they fell to the floor. Thomas had placed the crane on the table before leaving. It had to be there somewhere. I risked a glance at the dearg. They were standing on the ground now, eyeing the house like predators sizing up their prey.

I sifted through more documents and watched the origami art tumble over the edge of the table. Cursing, I got on my knees and retrieved the paper craft crane. The vibration started immediately. My fingertips almost hummed from the magic.

“I’m sorry for every time I doubted you, crazy mage guy, and if you’re the real deal, please help me,” I whispered. The origami paper buzzed so hard, my fingers were going numb. That’s when I realized I was holding it insanely tightly. I dropped it on the table.

As before, it started unfolding itself, and the crane of blue light flew off through the sliding door.

The dearg had just about reached the porch. If they’d seen the hologram or magic bird or whatever it was, they hadn’t reacted. But they were dangerously close to being able to see through the glass door. I retreated from the kitchen and prepared to make a run out the front door.

A circle of orange light appeared directly behind the two fae. Adam stepped through, and the portal closed. I watched the mortal mage lay some serious smackdown on the dearg. With a flick of his hand, the two elves slammed into each other like they were playthings being tossed around by an overstimulated two-year-old.

At some point, and I never quite figured out how, a long, gray sword appeared in Adam’s hand. The dearg leapt away from it faster than cats jumping out of a tub of water. The mage stepped onto the porch and turned his back to me.

The pair of fae attacked, their blades becoming arcs of crimson blurs. I couldn’t follow them with my eyes, but Adam deflected the pair with apparent ease. And then he really impressed me.

His left hand came up and made a fist. Both deargs’ arms were suddenly pinned to their sides. The red blades dropped to the ground. The fae struggled and screamed, though I couldn’t quite make out what they said. Adam made an underhanded toss with his left hand, opening his fist at the height of the swing.

The dearg launched into the air, sailing well over my fence. In seconds, they were two dark pinpoints arcing upwards until I lost sight of them. Adam looked around the yard, picked up the red blades, and deposited them on the patio table. He knocked politely on the door three times, as if he’d portaled all the way from Manhattan to borrow a cup of sugar.

“Hello? Melina? Are you in there?”

I crossed the room, unlocked the door, and slid it open. Adam stepped in and closed it.

“I see I arrived just in time,” he said.

“Um, yes, and thank you.”

His mouth quirked at one corner as if he were trying to hide a smile. “Or should I say you called me just in time.”

Busted.

“Yeah. Guilty as charged.”

The sword in his hand disappeared, and he casually waved his now-empty hand. “No matter the reason, the important thing is you summoned me. And now I’m here. And now I hope we can continue our conversation.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Though I might suggest someplace safer. The Unseelie are undoubtedly closing in. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to pack a bag for a few days?”

I nodded at the suggestion. “As quickly as possible. But can you send reinforcements to protect Cold Creek? There’s a dwarf named Nod.”

“You know him? I believe I can arrange that. But the Unseelie won’t spend much time here once they realize you’re gone.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll wait here,” Adam replied, and made a shooing motion with his hand.

I practically ran to my bedroom, calling Dad as I went.

“Dad, I can’t talk for long. I’m leaving town for a few days. I don’t have time to explain everything, but remember that dwarf I told you about, Nod? He may show up soon. If he does, trust him. I’ll call you in a bit, okay?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down, kiddo. What are you talking about?”

“The fae are here and they just tried to break into my house and that mage I mentioned saved me and I’m sorry but I really have to go. And stay away from my house, it’s not safe anymore. I’ll call you shortly. Love you.”

I hung up and put the phone on silent. I hated dropping all that on him at once. He’d be super worried, and I knew he’d call me back. I didn’t need the distraction.

I pulled a small carry-on from my closet and tossed in a bunch of clothes. The reliquary would have to stay behind. It was too big to carry, and I didn’t fully trust Adam yet.

He might have been the one who tore out your wards.

Well, thanks for that comforting observation. Let’s maybe have a little more optimism, okay?

Instead of taking the entire reliquary, I took my personal journal. I had a feeling my future relatives would be extremely interested in whatever happened next.

I rolled the carry-on to the kitchen and began shoving the Morton papers into the two shoulder bags.

“I’m so pleased you’re coming to Manhattan,” Adam asked.

Without looking up from my packing, I replied, “Sure, whatever. Just keep those dearg from coming back, and do whatever it takes to keep Cold Creek safe.”

“I’ll have Oberon and Aine dispatch a dozen of their best warriors.”

The mage had just name dropped the King and Queen of the Seelie Court fae like they were besties. Did I believe him? At that moment, it was more hope than anything. Who knew? Maybe he was telling the truth. I was willing to take all the help I could get.

Besides, I was completely winging things. I had no plans other than to survive long enough to gather my wits. Then I could decide whether I was in any shape to formulate a plan or simply opt for a full-on freak out.

I handed the two bags of Morton documents to Adam, who silently accepted them.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. “Let’s go, professor.”

He smiled briefly at that and gave me a quick nod. We stepped out onto the porch, and he opened a portal.

“Oh, shoot! Wait,” I said. I’d forgotten my laptop. I dropped the carry-on and went back inside. I pulled the power cord and packed up the computer in my travel case. On my way out, I spotted the wooden spoon and bowl and Sourdough Joe on the counter.

I debated whether to take them. I had no idea where I was going or when—if—I’d ever make it back. Mom always said, Don’t take it, and you’ll regret not having it. Take it, and you won’t need it.

I grabbed a grocery bag and carefully packed up the items. As I stepped onto the porch, an eclipse darkened the sky.

That’s what it looked like, anyway.

Thick, black clouds rolled in with the wind, which was blowing harder now and carried a distant howl with it. Adam’s face had gone from slightly amused to a kind of peaceful but scary resolve. He placed the two shoulder bags of documents through the portal, setting them down in what looked like a small library or office. He did the same with my carry-on and grocery bag.

“Melina, I wish we had more time. If I’d acted sooner, perhaps . . . Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now.” A deep roll of thunder swept through the sky, loud enough for me to feel it. We both involuntarily looked up. The sky looked like dusk instead of the middle of the morning. “I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.”

“Sorry? For what?”

Adam pulled my hand up, placed something in my palm, and closed my fingers around it. He said a few words I didn’t recognize. I felt the slightest buzz.

“Trust Thomas and Adriana. They’ll guide you through the days to come.” More howling whipped through the air, along with shouts from the other side of my fence. The fae were coming, and they weren’t messing around. “Melina, look at me. You crave safety, but your desire for it is what’s stopping you from finding it.”

“Of course I crave safety,” I said. “Look around!”

“This isn’t what I meant—”

A splintering crash interrupted Adam’s reply, and the back wall of my fence exploded.

“Go! Now!” Adam screamed as he raised his hand. The gray sword was back. I stepped through the portal and turned, expecting Adam to follow. Instead, the portal snapped closed. The last vision I had of the mage was him lifting the weapon as Unseelie closed in.

Chapter Nine

I  stood in a room about twenty feet by thirty feet in size. Wood paneling covered the walls, one of which contained built-in bookshelves. Thick beige carpet on the floor, a large wooden desk, and an antique chair indicated this was some kind of office. A spiral staircase circled around and into the ceiling.

Outside, two cars honked at each other. The sunlight from the window reassured me I was no longer near my house, which meant I’d escaped the horde of fae who had descended on Cold Creek. But where exactly I was remained a mystery.

Is this House Vervain? Am I in Manhattan?

I opened my hand to see what Adam had given me. A plain silver signet ring with an engraved “V” sat heavily in my palm. I pocketed the ring and examined the room more closely.

A sliding pocket door connected the office to a small library, the kind I’d always dreamed of having. A room whose only purpose was to hold books—was there anything cooler than that? If I were in any other kind of mood, I’d have spent the rest of the day gleefully going through them.

Instead, I opened the office door and stepped into a hall that ran from left to right. The place was quiet, which could have been bad or good. To my left was a closed door, and then the hall ended at what looked like the front door. Across the hall was a set of double doors that opened onto a living room.

To my right was another closed door, presumably to the library I’d just seen. The hallway continued for perhaps another hundred feet. At the end was another set of double doors, though these had a large “V” carved across them.

Yeah, definitely House Vervain, whatever that means.

The place was decked out like a retail outlet for holiday decorations had exploded, and the scent of cinnamon filled the air. It all put Millie’s restaurant to shame, which is saying quite a lot.

I heard the shuffling of papers from behind the closed door to my left. I decided against running out of the house while screaming at the top of my lungs, which was my first instinct. I walked towards the sound of papers, my feet echoing loudly against the hardwood floor. At least, they did to my ears. I half expected a dozen fae to appear and shout, “We found you at last, Melina!”

I knocked on the door and stepped back, my hand already reaching for the sliver of iron around my neck.

“Come in.”

I recognized Thomas’ voice and opened the door. He sat behind a desk, reading a book. He looked up and blinked in confusion.

“Where’s Adam?”

“He’s back in Cold Creek. I think. He opened a portal, but the fae found us, and then he told me—”

Thomas got to his feet so quickly, I took a step backwards in surprise.

“He didn’t come with you?”

“No, like I was saying, he told me to go through the portal. Then the fae busted through my fence. I stepped through the portal, but he didn’t follow me. Then the portal closed.”

Thomas barely seemed to be listening to me. He rummaged through a drawer in his desk until he pulled out a ruby-colored glass doorknob. He closed the office door.

“Stay here.”

I was about to point out to him that staying there was my only option, considering he’d just closed the door with me still inside the room. He held up a finger. I closed my mouth.

Thomas placed the knob against the door, and as it made contact, I heard a small pop. He twisted the knob and yanked the door open. The hallway was gone, replaced by a room I knew very well: my kitchen.

The outer side of Thomas’s office door was now the outer side of my pantry door. He removed the knob from the door and stepped into my kitchen, closing the door behind him.

The pantry didn’t face the sliding door in my kitchen, so I hadn’t gotten a glimpse of the backyard. I did, however, hear the sounds of a train colliding with a fireworks store located inside a tornado. The fact that my kitchen was still intact seemed highly improbable.

The office went silent, and I stared at the door. Should I wait in the office? How long would Thomas and Adam be gone?

I pulled out my phone. Dad had called me six times and left three voicemails. I took the phone off silent and called him.

“Melina, where are you?” He had me on speakerphone.

“I think I’m in Manhattan.” Over the phone, a car engine revved. “Hold up. Are you driving somewhere?”

“I’m headed to your place.”

“Don’t! Turn the car around right now. I told you it wasn’t safe to go there!”

“Well, next time don’t hang up on me and then ignore my texts and calls.”

Okay, fair point. I’d have done the same thing if I’d been in his place.

“I was kind of pressed for time, Dad. But look, I’m safe. Safe-ish, anyway. The mage opened a portal, and I walked through it right before the fae crashed into my yard.”

A pause. “That doesn’t sound safe, Melina. More like the opposite of safe.”

“Right, which is why I warned you not to come to my house.”

“All right, all right, I’m turning around now. So, what’s your plan? How can I help?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “You can help me by going home and staying home. I don’t need you gallivanting all over town and risking an encounter with the fae. Please promise me you’ll stay home until you hear from me.”

“Okay.” His response indicated he would, even though the tone of his voice clearly said he wasn’t happy about it. “Anything else?”

“Keep Mom’s broom handy.”

Chapter Ten

I  waited for another five minutes, during which I made a superficial survey of Thomas’s office. The stack of papers on his desk was topped with a letter from someone named Katia Correia. I didn’t snoop through the rest of the stack. The book he’d been reading was titled Fear and Fae by Augustine Krenlaw.

Interesting. The reliquary wasn’t the only source of books on real fae, it would seem.

My right calf stung as if I’d been poked with a needle.

“Ow!” I rubbed the muscle and looked for the source of the pain. The room was empty.

The rest of the office held a collection of stone carvings, paintings, vases, and more. The decor was warmer and more personal than the one next door, which felt like it hadn’t been touched in decades.

I decided I may as well explore the rest of the house. Thomas might be back any second or—I acknowledged with a pang of fear—not at all. Besides, I wasn’t trespassing. How much more of an invite did you need than a magic portal?

As soon as I opened the door, I heard noises from down the hall, then a woman’s voice.

“Thomas? I smell iron. Is everything all right?”

A moment later, a female elf stepped into the hallway.

Fae!

She wasn’t using her glamour. If she was human, she’d have been in her forties. She was my height, around five feet, ten inches tall, and wore a short-sleeved dress layered in soft greens and browns. The dress was long enough to hide her shoes.

Her ash-blonde hair reached her waist and flowed freely, and her blue eyes were as pale as ice. A simple chain of silver hung from her neck.

I reached for my sliver of iron and started to back away. The front door was just a few steps behind me. I had a head start, and if I could get outside, I might lose her.

“Melina Morgan, I am not going to hurt you. My name is Adriana. You are safe while you are under the Vervain roof.”

That confirmed my suspicion, though it did little to ease my fears. I was definitely in Manhattan and definitely in House Vervain. I was also definitely face to face with a fae.

Adriana hadn’t moved an inch, but I felt another pinch on my calf. Was she casting some kind of annoying spell?

“Where are Thomas and Adam?” the elf asked.

“Gone. To my house. In North Carolina.”

Adriana’s brow wrinkled briefly before her expression turned friendly again. “Both of them? Well, since the men are flexing their magic muscles, perhaps the two of us could share a cup of tea and get to know each other better. Care to join me?”

Mom’s warning slammed into my head.

Accept no food nor drink

Nor any gift offered by the fae,

Lest you find yourself

Falling forever under their sway.

“No, thank you,” I said. I swatted at my leg again after feeling another stab.

“It is the iron,” Adriana said. She glanced down at my leg. “The metal disturbs the others in the house. It also makes it difficult for us to protect you.”

Others? Adam had mentioned nothing about fae living with him. How many others were there in the house?

“There is a small box by the front door,” the elf continued. “If you would be so kind as to deposit the iron in there, it will no longer be an irritant for the other Vervain members. You may retrieve it when you leave.”

The idea of giving up the best weapon I had against the fae wasn’t super appealing.

“I’d prefer not.”

“It is entirely up to you, Melina.”

Another pinch. My legs were going to be black and blue if I didn’t do something.

Ugh. Fine.

I slipped the iron off my necklace and placed it in the wooden box. The telltale tingling of magic rippled across my fingertips when I lifted the top.

Adriana smiled wider and gestured towards the door next to her.

“Let us have a proper chat. I believe you have questions. I certainly have a few of my own.”

I walked down the hall, glancing into the office where I’d left my bags. I was relieved to see they were still there.

Adriana stepped through the doorway as I approached. Now that I was closer, I saw she wore a large braid of hair down her back, and her silver earrings were shaped like large trees.

She led me into the kitchen, which was massive, all kinds of awesome, and decorated like the rest of the house. I spied the source of the cinnamon scent: a potpourri on the stove.

Dozens of pots and pans hung from a series of hooks suspended above a massive island in the center of the room. All the appliances were industrial, based on their size and the amount of stainless steel covering them. And talk about counter space!

I could do a lot of baking damage with a setup like this.

“Please have a seat.” Adriana pulled a canister from a cupboard and began preparing tea. The fae generally avoided coffee, preferring the more subtle tastes of tea. A good portion of the Fair Folk also enjoyed mead, and certain types, like dwarves, favored beers, ales, and whiskeys. “I believe the kitchen is the heart of every home. Do you?”

“Sure. Absolutely.”

I often worked at my kitchen table and much of my Slumming Saturday hangouts with Dee were spent in the kitchen. It had been a source of happiness when I was growing up, too. Mom had taught me the joys of baking and cooking, and we often made meals together as a family.

“It is certainly true for House Vervain. All the love in this home originates in this room.”

Given how much the fae preferred the outdoors, her comments came as a surprise. Her tone implied she’d been living in the house for a long time. I took a seat at a table big enough to accommodate six people. Oddly, a tiny doll’s chair and table occupied one of the place settings and even included a miniature plate and utensils.

“I like baking,” I said. “Helps me unwind.”

She looked over her shoulder at me for a moment as she filled a kettle with water. “So I have heard. I am sure you are nervous about being alone with a fae, but please be at ease. I would protect you with my life if necessary.”

“Why?” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

“Because Adam has tasked the entire house with your safekeeping.” She noted my look of surprise. “Do not be offended. I would protect you regardless. After all, I have known you your entire life.”

“How is that possible?”

“Who do you think gifted your family with the sight?”

I made a dubious face. “You? You gave me the sight? Why?”

“Do you not know?”

“I, um, I thought it was, you know, I thought it was a curse.”

Curse.

I had far more difficulty saying that word to the elf’s face. I’d believed it my entire life, and just a few seconds ago, I’d still believed it with all my heart.

Sitting in the kitchen with Adriana as she made tea, however, left my earlier conviction floundering.

And much like Thomas, the elf seemed surprised at my comment.

“I am truly sorry to hear that, Melina. Had I or the other fae known, we would have cleared up the matter.”

She placed two cups and saucers on the table, clearly intending to serve me as well. Now, I’d always considered tea to be one step below dishwater and one step above mud in terms of taste. Expressing my views to Adriana seemed ill-advised, however, given the circumstances.

The elf brought the kettle to the table. Despite my displeasure with tea, even I was aware—thanks to my many visits with Mrs. Tilley—that you needed boiling water. Unless I’d mysteriously dozed off for several minutes, Adriana hadn’t so much as gone near the stove and neither had the kettle. She began filling one of the cups.

“That hasn’t boiled—” I began.

Steam rose from the cups, evidence that somehow the water in the kettle had gone from room temperature to boiling in a matter of seconds. Adriana gently lowered a tea ball into each cup.

“I swear under penalty of death from King Oberon and Queen Aine that I will neither harm you nor allow you to be harmed if I am able to prevent it.”

Nearly the same invocation Nod had given me on my back porch just a few nights ago, and a promise the fae reportedly never broke.

I nodded and sipped the tea.

“It will taste better if you let it steep,” Adriana said kindly.

“Patience hasn’t always been my best trait.”

She laughed lightly at that.

I wasn’t any kind of tea aficionado, and though Adriana assured me it would only get better with time, it was hands down the best cup I’d ever tasted. Not a hint of dishwater or mud.

The tea smelled like vanilla and honey and something else, a floral aroma underneath it all. The warmth spread slowly through my body, and I felt both refreshed and energized.

“Delicious,” I said. I’d have still preferred black coffee, but I couldn’t deny how amazing the tea tasted.

“Thank you.”

I almost said, “Thank you,” in return, but I stopped myself. The fae had a reputation for taking offense when you thanked them. The reliquary didn’t make the reasons clear.

The elf caught my hesitation.

“You may thank me without fear of retribution. As I said, all those in this house—mortal, mage, and fae—have sworn to protect you.”

There she went again, talking about how they were all committed to keeping me safe. I wished the reassurance she was offering left me feeling better. If anything, I felt even more off balance.

“Yeah, that’s going to take some getting used to.”

The elf flicked her hair behind her shoulders. “It would appear your education has significant gaps we should correct.”

“Such as?”

Lifting the chain dangling on the outside of her cup, Adriana slowly moved the tea ball up and down a few times.

“The sight is not, as you called it, a curse. It is a gift. At least, it was meant to be a gift. You might also call it an invitation or a good-faith gesture of friendship.”

“How is it a gift when your kind hunted my family for centuries precisely because you’d given us that ability?”

Something in my words triggered a reaction in the elf’s otherwise serene face. A momentary flash of anger or frustration briefly surfaced, there and gone again. When she spoke, her voice was as gentle as before.

“My kind gave you the gift, but the Unseelie have been your hunters. And the sight gives you a significant advantage against them.”

“An advantage I wouldn’t need if you hadn’t insisted on giving us the ability in the first place.”

She arched an eyebrow at my retort, but I held her gaze and silently dared her to say I was wrong. Her eyes drifted down to her teacup for a moment.

“I cannot argue that interpretation, misconstrued though it may be. But I assure you, we had the best of intentions. So, believing our gift to be a curse, how did your family react?”

I mentally flipped through my memories of the reliquary’s contents. Much of it was devoted to the fae, primarily how to avoid them. Very little space was devoted to the authors’ personal life.

“Well, we, um, that is, because we thought the fae wanted us dead, we fled to the dead zones. I mean, we knew you were hunting us, because one of my ancestors was killed by a fae. After that, we kept our ability a secret and avoided the fae as much as possible.”

“I see.” Adriana sipped her tea. “Correction number one: the Seelie fae did not kill your ancestor. The Unseelie did.”

I shrugged. “Okay. That doesn’t change the fact that you were putting targets on our backs. I don’t mean to be rude, but please consider things from our point of view. If you meant for it to be a gift, why didn’t you tell us that? If you wanted to reach out to us, why didn’t you reveal yourselves?”

The elf put her hands together and placed them in her lap.

“Correction number two: we did tell your ancestors. Multiple times. Correction number three: gifting you with the sight was our way of revealing ourselves to you. We literally cannot hide from you. How better to reveal ourselves?”

“Well, even if that’s true, a fae still killed my mother.” I spat out the accusation, utterly positive Adriana would have no retort to my killer comeback.

She did.

“Melina, no fae—neither Seelie nor Unseelie—killed your mother.”

The conversation had taken yet another unexpected turn, like a car losing traction on a patch of ice. I wanted to be angry. I mean, I’d rehearsed my speech in the event a fae ever cornered or kidnapped me.

All the anger I’d carried, all the bitterness about losing Mom, all the heartache over watching Dad figuring out how to be a single parent—I’d planned on dumping that on the first fae I encountered.

Nod had sidestepped the matter. We hadn’t had the luxury of casually debating history while a farrow and a growing pack of boggarts were after me.

Adriana was the first fae target I’d been able to unleash my pent-up feelings on.

But instead of having the satisfaction of watching her grovel and apologize and being forced to admit that my family had been wronged for centuries, I was left reeling with revelations that challenged just about everything I knew about the Fair Folk.

The elf continued. “And the sight was not the only gift we gave your family, though I suppose you consider those a curse as well. I am troubled our generosity was interpreted as malicious, and I am deeply saddened to see the effect it has had for all these years.”

I wanted to call her a liar, maybe toss the tea in her face and storm out. A dramatic exit and all that. I pictured myself struggling with my bags as I waddled to the front door, tossing a final, wicked insult at her that would finally leave her speechless.

I couldn’t.

There was a slim chance she was charming me without me realizing it, but my heart said otherwise. Part of me truly believed her.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “What other gifts?”

“Surely you were taught to fade.”

I busted out in laughter, confident that I finally had her. “Lady, if you think making me slowly lose my corporeal body until I literally vanish into thin air and cease to exist is a gift, you and I have two very different definitions of the word.”

She sipped her tea and looked at me with pity. “Another gap to fill, it would appear.”

I stood. A teacup to the face wasn’t in Adriana’s immediate future, but I was getting close to storming out.

“I appreciate the hospitality, and please thank Adam for saving my life when he gets back, but I need to head home.” I leaned into her version of things. “If the Unseelie are after me, I need to get back to Cold Creek. I have to protect that town.”

“Forgive me for stating the obvious, but if the Unseelie are after you, going back to Cold Creek will put everyone, including you, in far more danger.”

The elf had a nasty habit of spouting logic at the most inconvenient moments.

“So, I’m just supposed to sit here for the rest of my life?”

“There are far worse ways to live,” she replied. “And if it is safety you seek, you could not find a more secure home than this one. Additionally, the Unseelie will quickly depart Cold Creek. Staying here is the best option if you truly want to protect those you care about. Plus, there is the matter of Adam’s succession.”

“Oh, right. I’m supposed to replace him. Hate to break it to you, Adriana, but I’m no mage. In fact, I’m the very last person who should succeed Adam.”

She seemed amused. “I could not agree more, my round-eared friend. However, Adam has made his choice. And since our loyalty is to him, House Vervain has no choice but to honor his request.”

Rarely had someone agreeing with me sounded so insulting.

“Hey, that’s—”

Adriana’s eyes flicked over at the entrance to the kitchen. She stood, an alarming expression on her face. “What is it, Thomas?”

The consigliere stood in the doorway. He looked like he’d just come from a funeral.

“It’s Adam. He’s gone.”

Chapter Eleven

“W hat do you mean?” Adriana asked. Creases of concern appeared on her face. “Gone where?”

Thomas placed the doorknob on the island counter. The glass handle’s color was no longer fully red. Aside from a ruby sliver at the center, the rest was now opaque.

“He was battling more Unseelie than I’ve ever seen in one place in my place. And there were at least a few mages in the mix.”

“Renard?” the elf asked, her voice turning venomous.

“No, but he likely had a few of his mages there in his stead.”

I drew a blank on the name, but the person behind it was clearly no friend of House Vervain. Thomas went to the pantry, retrieved a bottle of tan liquid, and poured two fingers of the drink into a glass.

The consigliere sat down next to me. “Adam was furious I’d gone there, even though he was outmatched. He shouted at me to return here. I refused. That’s when he ported me back here. When I tried using the doorknob again, it broke. Adam must have done that on purpose to keep me from returning.”

“You saw him fall?” Adriana asked.

Thomas shook his head. “No, but I can’t believe he survived that attack. And if he’s dead, then House Vervain is doomed as well.” He drained half the contents of his glass and grimaced. “I tried to warn him. I told him something like this would happen if he named Melina as his successor. But he wouldn’t listen to me. After all these years, he always took my counsel. The one time he refused to listen, look what happened.”

“We have to remain optimistic,” Adriana said. Her voice had a soft but firm quality to it. “Adam gave us his instructions. It is up to us to fulfill them, and we shall do our best until he returns.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said. I placed a hand on Thomas’s sleeve. His eyes snapped up at me, and I saw fear and anger and hatred behind them. Whether it was meant for me or not, I jerked my hand back. “I’m sorry.”

He turned his attention back to his drink, his lips tight. The glass trembled as he took another sip.

“Renard’s finally done it. He’s removed Adam, and he’s prevented us from installing a successor. Renard’s cleared the way for the Council to hand over Vervain to him. We’ve failed.”

The words didn’t mean much to me, but I latched onto the general sentiment.

“So, that’s it?” I asked. “It’s all over?”

I truly hoped Adam was alive, but putting all this Manhattan mage stuff behind me was super appealing. The Unseelie might still keep coming after me, and Dad and I might have to move to another dead zone. That didn’t trouble me as much as it would have a month ago.

Thomas snorted. “Yes. Renard will soon have his hands on the Manhattan nexus, and thousands of fae will fall to his prejudice. He’ll be the most powerful steward in the Council, and that will be a dark day for the world.”

“Look,” I said, “I don’t know who Renard is, but if you can’t name me as a successor, does that mean I can go home?”

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but Adriana cut him off.

“Hold your tongue, Thomas. She knows nothing of our struggle, through no fault of her own. We need to explain the full situation to her before you judge her.”

He nodded once, and the tension in his face eased. “This is why I opposed you as successor. I thought Adam was unnecessarily putting you in danger just to save House Vervain. But he insisted you were the key to the house’s survival, as we were the key to yours. I couldn’t change his mind.”

“Okay,” I replied, “but who’s Renard, and why does he want House Vervain?”

“Thousands of years ago, a handful of mortals discovered magic. Real magic. They organized themselves into houses, with a steward heading up each one. The stewards comprise the Council, whose primary goal is to protect the world by keeping magic secret and defending the planet against all supernatural threats. Despite their efforts, the Council has not prevented others from occasionally discovering magic. Every century or so, a mortal learns to cast magic and comes to the attention of the Council. Most of the time, the new mage is assigned to an existing house. Once in a while, the Council allows them to become steward of a new house. The last house to join the Council was House Vervain. That was back in 1703.”

The reliquary had really dropped the ball when it came to documenting the mage community. Not a single entry about it in any journals. The Council had done a great job of keeping magic secret.

Adriana anticipated my next question.

“Piter Renard is the current steward of House Bergamot. He’s had his eyes on the Manhattan ley line nexus for some time, as it’s arguably the most powerful nexus in the world. For years, he’s worked to either clandestinely topple Adam from his position or convince the Council to hand over Vervain and the nexus to him.”

“Why?”

“He wants to remove all fae from the face of the planet. And the rest of the Council more or less approves. The only hurdle is the nexus, which Adam draws power from. Some consider him the most powerful mage in the world.”

I wasn’t proud of this, but in that moment, removing all fae from Earth didn’t sound so bad. Nod and Adriana seemed nice enough, and I didn’t wish them harm. However, if the fae were gone, the legacy of the sight and the burden it had placed on my family would be over. The cycle would finally be broken.

“You mean send all the fae back to their homeland?” I asked. “Why don’t they leave on your own? If it’s so dangerous to stay here, why not go home?”

Adriana sighed. “We did not know it when we first crossed over, but some fae are unable to move back and forth between our worlds. Once some of us crossed over to the mortal plane, we became stuck here, permanently.”

More new information, and another gap in my education was filled. The reliquary hadn’t mentioned that, either.

Thomas said, “Adam inherited sole access to the Manhattan nexus when he became the Steward of House Vervain. He’s used that power to protect the fae in this city and prevent Renard from physically taking control of the nexus. The Council frowns on infighting more than they do the fae, which is another reason they haven’t moved directly against Adam. However, if we can’t install a successor, the Council will freely intervene and decide who gets control of House Vervain. I believe Renard has enough votes in the Council to have himself named the new steward or simply have Vervain folded into Bergamot.”

My phone buzzed. Caller ID said it was Jerry Montrose.

“Excuse me,” I said, and I answered the call.

“What’s up, Jerry?”

“Melina, thank heavens you’re safe! I was worried sick about you!”

“Yeah, I’m good. What made you think I wasn’t?”

“I take it you’re not home,” Jerry said.

“No, why?”

“Phew! That explains it. I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but your yard and home have taken some damage.”

Right, the battle!

My fears about Cold Creek learning of the fae were coming true. After that supernatural smackdown in my backyard, the entire town had to know something was up. I mean, maybe the FBI would be called or something. Would they arrest me? I hadn’t broken the law, but if the government got a whiff of what had happened down, who knew what they’d do? Cold Creek could be the next Area 51.

“Was anyone hurt?” I asked.

“That’s the really weird thing,” Jerry said. “The news is saying there was a micronado directly above your house. The damage was limited to your property. My house is fine, and so is Mrs. Tilley’s.”

“I’m really glad to hear that! How bad is the damage to my property?” I asked, wondering whether my insurance would cover it. I could only imagine how many more Morton gigs I’d need to cover the deductible and what would certainly be a jump in my premium.

“From what I can see from my yard, your pergola is totally gone, and your gardens are a wreck. You’ve got some missing roof tiles, and you’ll probably need some new shingling and a paint job. I can go next door and take some pictures for you.”

I improvised an excuse to keep him away, just in case the Unseelie were still lurking about.

“That’s awfully nice, Jerry, but please don’t. If there’s some structural problems, I’d hate to see you get hurt. Besides, my father can drive over and take a look if need be.”

“If you say so. But you let me know if you change your mind or if there’s anything I can help with, okay?”

“I will, Jerry, and thanks again for calling.” I went to end the call.

“Oh, hey, where are you, anyway?”

My improvisational skills failed me. My brain froze, and I said, “New York.” I recovered a teeny bit. “For my latest writing assignment. Research, that is. Not sure when I’ll be back.”

“Wow, you must have taken a red eye after the party last night, huh? Well, I’m around if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Jerry.”

I hung up and looked at Thomas. “My neighbor doesn’t know a thing about the battle. The local news is saying it was some kind of localized meteorological event. How in the world is that possible?”

He shrugged. “Most likely, Adam cast a spell to conceal the reality of the event. There are limits to how much you can hide, of course, but this is one way the Council has kept magic secret for so long.”

“Wild. So, the residents of Cold Creek don’t know the Unseelie and some rogue mages just had a showdown with Adam? That means they still don’t know about the fae or the mage community.”

“Most likely,” Adriana replied.

Okay, maybe I could still go home after all. Better still, the residents of Cold Creek were still in the dark.

“Agreed,” Thomas said. “We’d have heard about it by now if the residents knew the truth. A minor victory in the grand scheme of things, as it changes nothing about the fate of House Vervain.”

“Yeah, back to that. Why can’t you just pick a new successor?”

He waved a hand. “It’s not as simple as declaring a successor. There’s a ritual involved, and the ritual requires the house seal. Furthermore, the current steward and the new steward must participate in the ritual. We need you, Adam, and the house seal in order to perform the succession ritual. After that, you would inherit a significant amount of power, and the Council would be forced to formally recognize you as Vervain’s new steward.”

I sipped my tea, quietly allowing that either I’d been shortsighted in my supposed disdain for the drink—which prevented me from realizing how good it could be—or perhaps Adriana had some special elven blend of tea leaves that was surprisingly delicious.

“If Renard was behind the attack on me and Adam, why not take the matter to the Council?” I asked. “You said they don’t condone mages attacking each other.”

“They do not, at least in principle,” Thomas replied. “Unfortunately, Renard’s secured the support of several stewards. We can’t rely on the complete objectivity of the Council. But as I said, all that’s irrelevant unless Adam miraculously turns up alive and still has the seal.” He polished off his drink.

“You mentioned that before. What exactly is the seal?”

“It denotes the true steward of a house. The form varies from house to house, but like most stewards, Adam chose a ring to be his seal.”

A ring?

I pulled the signet ring from my pocket. “You mean this?”

Chapter Twelve

T homas’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Is that Adam’s? How did you get it?”

“He gave it to me right before I walked through the portal. He said he was sorry for not acting sooner. He also told me to trust you two and that you’d help me.”

I didn’t share Adam’s other cryptic comment about me: You crave safety, Melina, but your desire for it is what’s stopping you from finding it.

Thomas took the ring from my palm and examined it. “Why didn’t you give this to me sooner?”

Rather than take a snarky tone with him, I answered diplomatically.

“I did try to tell you, if you’ll remember. But you shushed me and used that doorknob and left me alone in your office.” Okay, perhaps I used a scooch of snark. I paused before adding somewhat sheepishly, “And then I forgot about it.”

He nodded a few times. “Of course. My apologies. It’s been a trying morning for all of us.” He looked to Adriana with a spark of hope in his face and held up the ring. “It’s real. There’s still a chance.”

“We still need Adam for the ritual,” the elf observed.

Thomas waved a finger back and forth. “Perhaps not. I’ll secure this in the armory and see about getting back to Cold Creek as quickly as possible.”

“Only stewards can portal, and you said Adam tampered with the doorknob,” Adriana countered.

“I may be able to convince a sympathetic steward to lend a hand. And I’ll dispatch a message to Oberon and Aine. They can have fae in the town within the hour.”

“Let me know how I can help,” the elf said.

“I will. I’ll be in the library or my office if you need me.” The consigliere nearly ran out of the room without so much as a thank you.

“Please forgive him,” Adriana said. “He is normally far more civil. And whatever feelings of animosity he has, they are not directed at you personally. Thomas carries a significant amount of weight on his shoulders as Consigliere of House Vervain. He takes his position quite seriously, and there are other extenuating circumstances adding to his burdens.”

She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t pursue the matter.

“Once again, it would seem the men have left us to our own devices,” I said.

“Mmm. Perhaps a tour of the house is in order, then?”

More intel. Why not go with the flow and see what else you can learn?

“Sounds lovely.”

We stood, and I brought my cup and saucer to the sink.

“You need not worry about that,” the elf said.

I reluctantly left the dishes in the sink and followed Adriana. Instead of returning to the hallway, she slid open a pocket door in the kitchen.

“This is the butler’s pantry, which leads to the dining room.”

We stepped through the small alcove into a large room with a long table. Thick carpet and more dark wood paneling gave the space a solemn feel. The paintings on the walls had a more modern but impressionistic look to them. Still mostly landscapes, but there were also clearly portraits: Adam, Thomas, Adriana, and what appeared to be a dwarf and either a demon or a devil.

Oh, please don’t let there be more fae in this house!

“Breakfast is usually in the kitchen, dinner is typically served here, and house members are often on their own for lunch.”

The elf led me out a set of double doors that opened back on the hallway. Directly across the hall was the office with my bags.

Actually, the office where my bags used to be.

“Hey, where’s my stuff?”

“I had them moved upstairs to the guest room. Do you need anything?”

“No.”

“If you change your mind before tonight, let me know.”

Adriana turned right and took me to the living room by the front door. “This is what used to be called our receiving room back in the day. The occasional guest is entertained here.”

We stepped back into the hallway, and Adriana checked off the rooms on the opposite side as we headed towards the kitchen.

“You have already seen Thomas’s office. His is next to Adam’s, which connects to Adam’s library. And of course, this is the kitchen.”

I pointed at the double doors with the engraved “V” at the end of the hall.

“What’s behind those?”

“I am sorry, but that is not something I can show you without Adam’s permission.”

“Oh, okay.”

Were it not for her pleasant expression, I’d have been a little creeped out. What could possibly be hiding beyond the doors, and why didn’t Adam want me to see it? Some of my old fears trickled back into my chest as I imagined all sorts of horrible scenarios.

A chamber of ritualistic sacrifices.

A chained monstrosity who would eat me as soon as I stepped through the doors.

A prison where I’d be tormented for all eternity.

Oh, stop it, Melina. Do you really think any of those are likely?

I mean, maybe . . .

Adriana said, “Your sight allows you to identify fae even when they’re glamoured. But that is only one gift you possess. The other is fading, which you comically called a curse.”

I ignored the jab. “So, what is it?”

“A way to hide from both mortals and fae.”

So what now?

“I can turn invisible?” I asked. My head swam with possibilities. If I could learn to fade, my prospects for surviving future encounters with the Unseelie rose immensely. Talk about hiding in plain sight!

And that meant the possibility of living somewhere other than a dead zone. Not that I had any intentions of leaving Cold Creek, but knowing I wasn’t stuck there for my safety came as a surprising relief.

“It is not invisibility, though that ability is something you could discuss with Adam. Fading is more like magic camouflage. Once you master it, though, you will be surprised how closely it resembles being invisible. Actually, it is a good deal better than that.”

I tamped down my excitement and tried to reply nonchalantly, almost as if I were slightly bored. “Kinda sounds interesting.”

“Would you like your first lesson?”

I made a show of checking my watch. “Not like I have a ton going on right now.”

“Excellent. This way.”

I followed her down the stairs to what I thought would be a dingy basement. At the bottom of the stairs, we walked through an open doorway that appeared to be soundproofed on one side. That was unexpected, as was the basement, which turned out not to be dingy at all.

The space was finished off with the same decor as the first floor and was decorated for the holidays. A thick carpet covered the floor. Paintings hung on paneled walls. A large sofa and four chairs, plus a coffee table, occupied the center of the room. A bag of chips and a box of cookies had fallen over on the table, their contents scattered across the surface.

On one wall hung a TV large enough to be my bed. A gaming system was tethered to it, and surround-sound speakers populated all four walls. Pizza boxes from a place called Paola’s Pizza Joint and beer bottles littered the floor. Not all of them were empty.

Pizza boxes? I thought fae didn’t like bread?

Opposite the TV was what appeared to be a massive distillery, though of what I couldn’t tell. In one corner, two acoustic guitars quietly sat in their stands next to an easel and a blank canvas. The other two walls each contained a door. One looked like a regular door, while the other resembled a massive bank vault door.

“Fynch?” Adriana called out. “Are you here? We have a guest.”

The regular-size door opened, and an imp flew out. The fae was just over a foot tall and had light-brown skin. Bat-like wings, horns, and a barbed tail gave him a demonic look, though I was certain he was an imp based on his eyes: all black, save for the flickering flames where a human’s pupil would be. Fynch’s face was covered in wrinkles but despite his appearance, there was a lively and mirthful energy to it.

I reached for where my iron used to be. I didn’t mean to, but I also didn’t expect an imp to come flying at me. The fae didn’t seem to notice my reaction.

“Hey! You must be Melina Morgan!” He flapped his way towards me, coming to a stop close enough to extend his hand. I gently shook the clawed appendage. “Welcome to House Vervain!”

The imp performed an aerial loop. He might have been hundreds of years old, but he acted more like a kid than some withered old spirit.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Wanna see a magic trick?”

“Um, sure.”

I had no idea what to expect. Fireballs? Supernatural summonings? Levitation?

A half-sized deck of cards appeared in the imp’s hands. They were still large for him, but he manipulated the cards with an impressive dexterity. The imp fanned the deck, face down. “Okay, pick a card, but don’t show it to me.” He looked away.

Oh. That kind of magic.

I glanced at Adriana, who was watching me intently. I teased one of the small cards out of the deck. “Okay. I’ve got it.”

“Great. Now, be sure to memorize it, and when you’re ready, put it back.” I did. Fynch shuffled the cards while he spoke dramatically. “I’m going to use my psychic powers to locate your card. Your touch left an indelible energy on the card, which I will now identify.”

Adriana looked like she was trying not to smile. I found myself in the same boat.

Fynch held the deck of cards out to me. “Please cut the deck, Melina. Anywhere you like.”

I carefully lifted a third of the cards in the air. Fynch moved them to the bottom of the deck. He dramatically placed a hand over the deck and mumbled what I swear was a bunch of mumbo jumbo and not a real spell at all. He then flipped the top card over: the six of spades.

“Melina Morgan, is this your card?” His voice was totally over the top and theatrical.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

“Uh, no.”

Fynch grunted in disappointment. He tried again with the next card, flipping it over with an exaggerated gesture. The queen of diamonds. “Then this must be your card!”

“I’m afraid not.”

I felt a pinch on my right ankle and involuntarily swatted at it. Adriana and the imp looked at me.

“Sorry,” I said.

Fynch ran through four more cards, all equally wrong. By then, his enthusiasm had given way to dismay. He flicked the deck of cards into the air in frustration. They disappeared before they hit the ground.

“Oh my stars, that was amazing!” I said.

“What are you talking about? I couldn’t guess your card,” Fynch said morosely.

“Well, no, but you did something even more impressive. You made the whole deck of cards disappear!”

I thought I was complimenting him. I mean, I was. Anyone could do the card trick with enough practice. I didn’t know anyone who could make a deck of cards disappear the way the imp had.

Another pinch. I gritted my teeth and ignored it.

Adriana looked at me, and if you made me place a bet, I’d have said she looked somehow sad or maybe disappointed.

“Thanks for trying to make me feel better,” Fynch replied, “but I was trying to do magic. Real magic.”

Adriana said, “Fynch has been working on his magic tricks for some time. I think he is very close.”

“Oh,” I replied with a nod. “Absolutely. Very close.”

The imp’s dour expression lightened. “Really?”

“Most definitely.” I glanced at Adriana out of the corner of my eye. She was smiling at me in a way that made me feel I’d passed some kind of test. Not necessarily a perfect score but good enough. “So, you live down here?”

“Yep.” The imp aimed a tiny thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my bedroom, but this space is what I like to call the Rave Cave.”

“Obviously,” I replied. “And the room behind the vault door?”

“The armory,” Adriana replied.

I tucked that tidbit away for later.

“Hey, where’s our fearless leader?” Fynch asked.

The elf put on a brave face. “Clearing out some Unseelie from Melina’s hometown. I expect him to return shortly.”

The imp threw a few punches in the air at an imaginary opponent. “Those Unseelie won’t know what hit them. Adam’s the best steward in the council. He’ll make them regret showing their faces.”

A flicker of worry crossed Adriana’s face. I was beginning to worry about Adam’s fate, too. If he’d been victorious, shouldn’t he be back by now? I consoled myself with the hope he might be alive but wounded and unable to portal. Or that he was still chasing the Unseelie and ensuring they didn’t return to Cold Creek any time soon. Anything to avoid thinking about the other outcome.

“I’m sure he will,” I said before changing topics. “I see someone likes pizza. That’s my favorite food.”

“No kidding? Me, too!” Fynch darted down to one of the boxes with a remaining slice. “Pepperoni, extra cheese, and bacon is the best.” He chomped at the slice surprisingly fast, devouring it in a matter of seconds.

“That’s one of my favorites, too,” I said. “Have you tried buffalo chicken but without the onions?”

Fynch did another loop. “Right? Who needs onions? You’ve got great taste, Melina. I knew Adam was right about you!”

The comment left me feeling surprised. Not by the compliment but by my reaction to it. Fynch struck me as someone with no filter and no hidden agenda. His immediate acceptance of me was touching.

Adriana cleared her throat. “Fynch, Melina would like to learn how to fade. I believe you are the best suited member of House Vervain to instruct her. Would you be willing to do that?”

“Of course! When do we start?”

“How about now?” the elf said.

The imp rubbed his tiny hands together and grinned mischievously. “Rock on.”

Chapter Thirteen

F ynch and I cleared away most of the pizza boxes and beer bottles so I had a clear space to work. He didn’t waste any time with my lesson.

“Okay, the first thing you need to know about fading is that it’s not invisibility. It makes everyone else unable to perceive you. I’m talking sight, sound, smell, touch, the whole caboodle. When you fade, you short-circuit their brains. They still see and hear you, but the signal turns to white noise by the time it hits their cranium. You simply won’t register as being there.”

I couldn’t resist grinning. “This is so cool. Way better than the sight.”

Fynch’s eyes flashed. “Wait till you’re a steward. Powerful magic, baby, and tons of it. But your sight and fading abilities are a whole different category. No steward or mage can do that as far as I know. The only downside is it’s hard to fade once someone has detected you. And you’ll probably have a harder time maintaining focus while you’re moving.”

“Okay. How do I start?”

“Close your eyes and imagine you’re walking through a meadow on a warm, sunny day. The meadow is filled with daisies, and the flowers are unusually tall. Your hands easily touch the petals as you walk.”

Visualization. Cool, I can do that.

I concentrated and conjured up a scene. A green hillside under a cloudless blue sky. I was walking barefoot, the thick grass forming a soft cushion. A gentle breeze tugged at my hair.

Fynch’s voice continued, soft and quiet. “You stop and lean over to smell one of the flowers. As you do, the flower seems to beckon to you to come closer. You hover over the flower, your face drawing nearer. Closer. Closer. Then, without warning, it farts in your face.”

I opened my eyes.

Fynch cracked up, holding his belly as he laughed.

“Oberon and Aine, I wish I had a picture of your expression!”

“Cute,” I replied with a frown. “Very cute.”

Fynch’s face turned serious. “Listen, I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. No hard feelings, yeah?” He held out his hand. I shook it. He made a fake fart sound and busted up all over again.

I waited until he calmed down, which took far longer than it should have.

“Are you done?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I promise.” He wiped at his eyes, and a few remaining chuckles bubbled out. “Sorry. We don’t get a ton of visitors here.”

“Okay,” I replied, though I made a mental note not to close my eyes around the imp any time soon. “Can we get serious about this? The Unseelie are still after me, and this might make the difference between me living and dying.”

Fynch lost all remnants of his laughing fit. “Hey, yeah, of course. I wasn’t making fun of your situation. It’s just how I am. Apologies for hurting your feelings. Forgive me?”

“Yes. Now, how do I really fade?”

Fading turned out to be a lot harder than I’d expected, not that I had a ton of experience with magic. Fynch made it seem simple.

“Focus from the outside in. Start at your skin level and work towards the center of your chest. First, imagine you’re getting blurry around the edges, and then you get a little transparent, and then you start to disappear until there’s nothing to see. Or start with your feet and work up. Whatever feels right.”

Easier said than done.

Three hours later, the best I could achieve was a barely noticeable wavy motion around my outline. That was according to Fynch, who may or may not have been exaggerating my progress. He still felt bad about the fart jokes.

The room slowly started spinning, and my stomach rebelled.

“I have to sit down,” I said, though that would imply a controlled motion. I pretty much fell face-first into the sofa, my nose immediately picking up the scent of something spicy. The smell made my stomach clench even more in protest. I felt around under the cushion and came across something hard and slimy. “Oh my stars, is this a chicken bone?”

Fynch fluttered over. His pupils flared and filled his eyes. “Noice! That’s where the last hot wing went. Thanks, I was looking for that all morning!”

He took the bone and munched on it until it disappeared. I gagged but stopped it from becoming anything worse.

“You okay?” Fynch asked. “I think you should take a break.”

“No kidding,” I mumbled and closed my eyes. I dozed off at some point and came around later to the flapping of Fynch’s wings. He was hovering directly above me, a concerned look on his face. Happily, the ceiling remained firmly in place, and my stomach no longer lurched like a drunken sailor.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey. Should I get Adriana? She’s real good at healing and stuff.”

I tried sitting up. No nausea, no vertigo. “Nah, I’m feeling better. But maybe we hold off on the fading for a bit?”

“Sure thing! And you did really well for your first time. I know you’ll learn it in no time.”

“Let’s hope so. I’d rather face down a couple of dearg than suffer like that for much longer.” And that wasn’t an exaggeration. Learning magic sounded awesome at first, but the reality was super unpleasant.

I stood and surveyed the room. Still looked more like a college dorm room for a couple of guys than any kind of scary, sacrificial room. The only thing that seemed out of place were the paintings. “So, how long have you been living here?”

“Since before it was officially a mage house. I crossed paths with the first Vervain steward, Jane Meijer. She was the nicest mortal I’ve ever known, and she invited me to move in. I’ve been here for over three hundred years.”

I walked over to the guitars, lightly strummed the strings. “How about Adriana? How long has she been here?”

“Almost as long as me.”

Two fae had been living in Manhattan for hundreds of years. How many more were out there, and how long had they been here?

Hold up.

If the elf and imp had been here that long, that almost certainly meant they were trapped in the human realm. I filed that away.

“So, your name. Fynch. It’s not a typical imp name, is it?”

Fynch laughed. “Nope. My original name is impossible to fully translate into English, but it’s something like, Complete Annihilation by Death, Destruction, Blight, Fire, and Very Sharp Teeth. There’s more to it, but you get the idea.”

“I can see why you changed it. That’s a mouthful.”

“Right? I went by Brimstone after meeting Jane, and then for a short time in the seventies I called myself Disco.” He visibly shuddered. “I know, I know. What can I say? Everyone was messed up back then. I’ve been Fynch for the past fifty years.”

“I like it.” He smiled at my comment. Since he seemed to be in a talkative mood, I lobbed another question at him. “Thomas and Adriana were telling me about the Council and how they don’t care for the fae.”

Fynch rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Hoo boy, that’s an understatement. A lot of mages don’t like the idea that fae are secretly walking around their world. I sort of get it when it comes to the Unseelie. They’re bad news, big time. But us Seelie? We don’t want to take over the world or enslave you mortals. The mages don’t make that distinction. I mean, all the Vervain stewards understand the difference, and Adam’s all kinds of awesome about protecting us. The rest of the Council? Not so much. I’m glad you’re going to be Adam’s successor. I know you’ll make a great steward, too.”

The unqualified compliment felt like a dagger in my back, more so because the imp had just met me a handful of hours ago. He was already my biggest fan, and he barely knew me.

I was more than happy to learn how to fade and maybe make friends with a few fae, but stepping into the stewardship of a mage house felt like trouble I didn’t want or need. I already had enough targets on my back.

The way I saw it, as soon as I made it clear to everyone I didn’t want to be the next steward, the mages would stop caring about me. Dad and I could move to another dead zone if we had to, but if I knew how to fade, I’d be safer.

I’d be even safer if Oberon and Aine could send some friendly fae to help protect me, though I didn’t see how Adam possibly had time to send that request.

I sidestepped Fynch’s words. “Where were you before you came to Vervain?”

“Oh, I crossed over to this plane almost a thousand years ago. Knocked around Asia and South America before checking out Europe. When King Charley went to war with pretty much all of Western Europe, I bailed. That’s how I wound up in New York in the 1600s, and that’s how I met Jane.”

A thousand years. I could easily spend half that amount of time just listening to Fynch spin tales about his time on this planet. He had to have seen plenty of historic events firsthand, and his knowledge of life back in the day would be crazy valuable.

“You should write a book,” I said, only half joking.

“Eh, my life’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Besides, I’ve forgotten most of it, to be honest.” So much for a best-selling book on history. “I mean, I remember a few things. Back in the twenties, I was hanging with some Mayans, just chilling. Amazing hot chocolate. Those dudes were total stargazers, too. Did you know they invented the number zero all by themselves?”

“The twenties?”

“No, the number zero.”

“I mean which twenties decade are you talking about?” I couldn’t remember much about the Mayans from my school days, except that they were long gone by the 1920s.

“Oh. This would have been the 1420s. The Spaniards showed up a hundred years later, though. Major buzzkill types, so I hopped over to Europe. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Cold Creek. A small coastal town in North Carolina. But I was born in Nebraska. My dad and I moved to Cold Creek when I was six.”

“Cool. What happened to your mom?”

Up until a few hours ago, I would have said the fae killed her. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

“She died.”

“Ooof. I’m sorry, Melina.” He flapped over and patted my shoulder.

The compassion struck another chord of guilt with me. Sure, maybe the entire Vervain crew were pulling a Hollywood blockbuster-level scam on me. Maybe. If so, what was their goal? What would they hope to gain by fooling me?

I rejected the idea. Yes, Thomas was a tad frosty, Adriana had a prickly side to her, and Adam was obviously misguided about me becoming his successor. Fynch was still a question mark, but he was very friendly one.

“Thank you,” I said.

I lifted my hand to my mouth in fear. I’d just thanked a fae!

A second later, I remembered Adriana’s assurance that the House Vervain weren’t holding me to the usual fae rules. Still, I was shocked at how fast I was forgetting the guidelines I’d followed my entire life.

Fynch didn’t bat an eye, which was a huge relief. He snapped his fingers. “Hey, you want an ale?”

I blinked. “Like a beer?”

“Eh, no. Better, in my opinion.”

The imp flew over to the distillery and pulled two brown glass bottles from a plastic case filled with them. They were huge, almost the size of wine bottles, and had the swing-top stopper mechanism like I often saw on European beers.

“These taste better at room temperature,” Fynch said as he handed me one.

I flipped the metal clasp and swung the white stopper aside. A yeasty smell tickled my nose. “Whoa.”

Fynch grinned. “Wait till you taste it.”

I’d already broken one rule. How much worse could it be to break two?

I tipped the bottle and took a large sip. I preferred my beer ice cold, but dang if the ale wasn’t all kinds of amazing.

Fynch had muscled the bottle, which was almost as tall as him, into the air and sipped from it.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” He held out his bottle, and I gently clinked mine against his. “So, what’s it like in Cold Creek? I’ve never been there.”

“It’s small. Quiet. Nice. Friendly people.”

“Sounds awesome. We should visit it sometime.”

“Sure.”

Not in a million years.

“Hey,” I said, “you’re a really good artist.”

He drank more beer, wiped his mouth with his arm. “Artist?”

“The paintings. They’re really good.”

“Ha! No, I didn’t do those. Keg painted them.”

“Who’s Keg?”

From up the doorway, an unfamiliar male voice called out, “Lunch is on!”

Fynch pointed at the stairs. “That would be Keg.”

Chapter Fourteen

F ynch and I took our drinks upstairs. The imp flew straight to the dining room. I glanced down the hall at the set of double doors Adriana had said I couldn’t go beyond. My curiosity was driving me nuts.

Adriana stood at the corner of the dining table, which was big enough to seat ten or twelve people. Across from her was a male dwarf. The chair at the head of the table remained empty, and I figured it had to be Adam’s usual seat. The empty chair felt like another bad omen.

“Melina, please have a seat next to me,” the elf said. I took the seat to her right.

Fynch flew over to sit on the table next to the dwarf. The imp settled into a tiny doll’s chair in front of a scaled-down table—just like the one in the kitchen.

Ah! Now it makes sense!

Adriana addressed me. “I’d like to introduce the last of our Vervain family members, Kegster Grimlock. Keg is the Sentry of House Vervain.”

The dwarf gave me a slight bow. “Well met, Melina Morgan. I pledge my life to save yours when the time comes.”

The fatalistic tone and bluntness of his statement surprised me.

This dwarf dude it hardcore.

I bowed back. “Let’s, ah, let’s try not to make that necessary, but thank you.”

Keg was just over four feet tall and sported bronze hair and a bronze beard long enough that it continued below the tabletop. Three silver charms had been woven into the beard just below his chin: an axe, a helmet, and a shield. Bushy brows peaked over his dark-brown eyes. He smiled, and his stony expression morphed into what I could only describe as wise old man face.

The tunic he wore fitted him loosely, and the rolled-up sleeves revealed thick forearms. Like the rest of the fae, he openly wore no weapon, but I was quite sure he could handle any blade he picked up.

“Thomas has taken a small meal in the library and will join us later if he is able,” Adriana said. “Given Melina’s arrival, I felt dining here for lunch in this room was appropriate. Sit, eat, and be at ease.”

Filled water glasses were already on the table, as were small wine glasses containing what looked like milk. I stuck with my ale.

Despite the formalness of the dining room, the meal was served family style. Bowls and platters were passed around until everyone had filled their plates. Roasted chicken, fingerling potatoes, several types of fruit and vegetables, three different types of bread, honey cakes, and other sweets roamed the table. The presence of bread surprised me until I remembered Fynch’s pizza boxes.

Another thing the reliquary got completely wrong.

I took a piece of chicken, some potatoes, and several spears of asparagus. Adriana stuck with fruit and honey cakes. Fynch ignored it all in favor of what I guessed were slices from a Paola’s pizza. Keg’s plate was actually a platter, and he spooned hefty samples from every offering.

My stomach was growling as I sat down, so I was already hungry. Even so, the food smelled incredible. The asparagus was cooked exactly the way I liked and had a freshness I’d never tasted before. The chicken was so juicy, the meat fell off the bone as soon as I lifted a piece. And the bread . . . my mouth watered at the smell.

“I thought fae didn’t like bread,” I said to Adriana. “Or is that another gap in my education?”

The elf grinned.

“Not as such. For the fae who are stuck here, one side effect is our gradual acclimation to elements that normally would irritate or even kill us. We have been in your world long enough that breads and salt do not affect us.”

“And iron?”

“To my knowledge, no fae has ever developed an immunity to that metal.”

I filed that information away. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to be exiled from your home.”

“Really?” Adriana asked. “Were you not driven from your birthplace?”

“No one forced me to go,” I clarified. “We left because we chose to.”

“I thought you felt you had no choice because of your fear of us.”

“Well, I guess you could look at it that way, but—”

“Melina, the reasons may differ, but the end result is the same: exile. You have a better grasp of our plight than you think.” I nodded in response and humbly accepted her gesture to make a connection with me. Our situations were still miles apart, of course, but I appreciated the sentiment. “How are your studies progressing?”

Before I could answer, Fynch replied through a full mouth, “Ama-phin.”

“Chew and swallow, Fynch. Chew and swallow.”

The imp did. “Amazing. She’s already halfway there.”

Adriana looked to me for confirmation.

I shook my head. “I think Fynch is being too generous. About all I’ve managed so far is a big case of vertigo and nausea.”

The imp waved a thin slice of pizza in the air. “Trust me, Adriana, she’ll pick it up fast. I have a good feeling about her.” He winked at me.

“Well, that is encouraging to hear.” The elf turned to me. “The faster you can embrace all of your abilities, the better.”

“I don’t have any other abilities.”

Adriana’s eyebrows lifted, and a grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Now, that is cause for a correction.”

“Fair enough. Okay, what else can I do? Manipulate time? Fly?”

“Perhaps you should learn fading first.”

I lifted my bottle of ale and toasted her. “To fading.”

Adriana eyed the bottle in my hand. “I see you have tried Keg’s ale.”

I looked at the dwarf, who suddenly became fixated on his platter of food. He attacked his chicken with a knife and fork as if the poor thing had insulted his honor.

“Did you brew this?” I asked. “Because it’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” I thought he would saw through the platter.

“Keg’s embarrassed about his brewing,” the imp said. “He comes from a long line of expert ale crafters, but he doesn’t like it.”

“That’s enough, Fynch.” The dwarf’s words were barely more than a growl.

The imp didn’t seem to notice. “You already saw the paintings downstairs but those guitars? You should hear him play.”

Keg leveled his knife at the imp. “I said that’s enough, Fynch.”

“Hey, come on, Keg. You’re really talented, and even you have to admit it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The dwarf’s tone had a finality to it that Fynch didn’t catch.

“So don’t talk about it. I can still praise—”

Adriana cut him off. “Fynch, he said he didn’t want to discuss it.”

The imp opened his mouth to say something, but Adriana stared at him until he closed it. Her expression wasn’t mean or threatening, though it was definitive.

“Aye, aye, claviger. Message received.” Fynch glanced at the dwarf. “Sorry, Keg.”

“All good.” Keg finished with a smile that let everyone know he meant what he said.

I’d thought Thomas was second-in-command at Vervain, but after witnessing that exchange, I was rethinking things. Adriana had a matronly way about her, no doubt. However, what I’d just saw implied she was far more than just a maid or a housekeeper.

“I’ve never heard that word before,” I said. “What’s ‘claviger’ mean?”

“It is a Latin derivative and a word the mage houses adopted for someone in my position. The literal translation is ‘one who keeps the keys,’ and while that is often true, a more accurate interpretation would be ‘custodian’ or ‘warden.’”

Definitely rethinking things about Adriana’s role here.

Out in the hall, a door opened. Thomas appeared a few seconds later, and his earlier optimism had evaporated. He sat down next to me and began filling his plate.

“The good news is, I’ve managed to convince the Council we still have the Vervain seal. Thanks to Adam’s quick thinking, that remained out of the hands of Renard and the Unseelie. We now have three days in which to produce either Adam or a properly installed successor.”

“What’s the bad news?” Adriana asked.

Thomas grimaced. “That was the bad news. I don’t know of any way to come up with a ritual in less than three days which will officially bind Melina to the seal. It’s almost an insult, because I can’t complete it in that timeframe, and they know it. I’m fairly certain Renard pushed for the extension just to twist the knife one last time before driving the blade home.”

“Hold up,” I said. “If we’ve got three days, then let’s use that time. You’ve got the ring, and as long as we get Adam back here before the deadline, Vervain can still be saved, right?”

I was careful not to mention the succession ritual.

Thomas didn’t appear to notice. “I haven’t shared the really bad news yet. I just got confirmation from Oberon and Aine’s forces haven’t been able to locate Adam’s body.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” I asked. “That means he could still be alive.”

“If he is, he’s almost certainly in the hands of the Unseelie, which would be worse than death.”

Chapter Fifteen

T he room went silent. Adriana went to Thomas and hugged him from behind.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

The consigliere’s shoulders shook, and tears streamed down his face. Fynch flew over and placed a hand on Thomas’s arm. Keg ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Meanwhile, I sat in a big ol’ pool of self-induced guilt.

If I had listened to Adam when he first approached me, he’d be at the table with us. If I hadn’t summoned him the second time, I’d be dead, but he’d still be okay. And he’d still be running Vervain and protecting the Manhattan fae. If, if, if . . .

“It’s my fault,” I said, my voice faltering into a croak. I swallowed, but the knot in my throat refused to go away. “This is all because he was protecting me. If I’d gone with him and Thomas Friday night, Adam would be—”

“Hush,” Adriana said quietly. “Any blood spilled in this matter is Renard’s hands, not yours.”

Thomas quietly wept while the rest of us stood silent vigil or wiped our own eyes. After a few minutes, Thomas patted Adriana’s arm. She returned to her seat.

Thomas cleared his throat.

“It’s been a privilege serving you, and I know Adam would feel the same way. I suggest we prepare ourselves for the worst possible outcome, but let’s also continue working on a way to safely relocate Melina and her father. Renard will be happy to get his hands on the nexus, but some of the Unseelie may still want to pursue the Morgans.”

“What? No. I’m not going anywhere.” The words came out of my mouth before I’d even realized it.

Adriana looked at me with surprise. “Spoken like a steward. Thomas, what do you need to craft the custom ritual to seal the ring?”

“Time. Time to research and test.”

“You’ve got less than three days to do that. How can you shorten the process?”

He pursed his lips. “The Seelie might be able to help. And I might persuade one or two mages to lend a hand.”

“Good. That is your priority. Keg will prepare the house defenses in case Renard gets impatient. Wards, spells, whatever you and the armory can come up with.”

“Consider it done,” the dwarf said.

“What about me?” Fynch asked Adriana.

“You, sir, are going to give Melina a crash course in fading. Renard and the Unseelie can’t kill her if they don’t know she’s there.”

“Melina, take a break, okay? You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

The imp hovered in front of me, his face creased with concern.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

I wasn’t. I kept experiencing vertigo and nausea within minutes of trying to fade. Adriana concocted a special tea for me, which took the edge off the symptoms, but my concentration was still about as focused as a cross-eyed mole.

My outline is beginning to disappear. My outline is hazy. My outline is gone. The rest of my body is slowly disappearing, too.

I’d tried all sorts of visualizations, mental techniques, and mantras. Fynch said I was making progress, but I had to take his word for it. I was immune to the effects of fading, which meant my body never changed its appearance.

I tried making a video of myself fading, just to see whether Fynch was exaggerating my progress. Even on the recording, I didn’t see any indication I’d faded.

I used the lack of progress and the pain as fuel to keep going.

My head has vanished. Now my arms are invisible. Now my legs have disappeared. All that’s left—

A wave of nausea made me gag, and I went down to my knees.

“That’s it, I’m getting Adriana.” Fynch flew towards the stairs.

“No, please. I’ll rest a minute.” I lay back down on the sofa, but only after checking for more hot wings.

I didn’t want Adriana coming down and fussing over me, and I definitely didn’t want the elf to know about my struggles to learn fading. She already had plenty of stuff to deal with.

To help ensure the imp didn’t bother her, I asked Fynch a question. “Tell me something. Why doesn’t Keg want to talk about his brewing, painting, or guitar playing?”

“Well, I’m not sure I’m the one who should be talking about that.”

“Sorry. You’re right. That was rude of me. I didn’t mean to pry into your friend’s business behind his back.”

“It’s okay. Why don’t you tell me some more about Cold Creek? It sounds amazing.”

I was more than happy to talk about anything other than the elephant in the room: Adam Essein. The weight of not knowing his fate was difficult enough to shoulder. Talking about it was out of the question.

The rest of the Vervain family seemed to be taking a similarly stoic approach, and at that moment, that was fine with me.

“Amazing isn’t a word a lot of people use for Cold Creek, but I think you’re right. My father lives there, and my best friend Dee Ashford is there, too. I’ve got really nice neighbors. One of them has a golden retriever named Sophie. She’s a super sweet dog. And there’s a restaurant named Millie’s, and it’s run by a lovely woman named Millie.”

Fynch seemed fascinated by it all, but his eyes flared at the mention of the restaurant.

“Do they serve waffles?”

“Sure do. The best in town.”

The imp performed another aerial loop. “Sweet! I’m adding that to the list.”

“What list?”

“The list of restaurants you and I are going to check out.”

I propped myself up on an elbow and eyed the imp. “How many restaurants are on the list?”

A long slip of paper appeared in his hand, as did a pair of glasses on his face. “There’s Paola’s, of course. Pizza has to take priority.”

“Naturally.”

“And now there’s Millie’s.” The glasses and paper disappeared. Fynch looked extremely happy with his work.

“Oh.” I figured there would be more.

“Hey, want to see a magic trick?”

I grunted and moved to an upright position. “Please.”

The basement door opened. Keg poked his head inside.

“Meeting upstairs in the kitchen right now.”

Chapter Sixteen

F ynch took a seat in his tiny chair. The dwarf leaned against a cabinet with his arms crossed and a stony expression on his face.

Adriana and Thomas were at the kitchen table. A teacup steamed in front of the elf, while the consigliere was drinking from a coffee mug.

Thomas greeted me with a small smile. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he could use a few days of sleep. He seemed the most rattled by Adam’s disappearance.

“Is there any chance this place has coffee?” I asked.

“Of course. What kind?” Thomas replied.

“Dark roast if you have it.”

“How would you like it prepared?” he asked.

“Um, I guess as quickly as possible?”

His laughed. “I mean would you prefer drip, pour over, or French press?”

Oh. Not just coffee. Coffee choices.

I could soooo get used to this!

“French press if it’s no trouble,” I said.

“Not at all.” Thomas busied himself with my request. He even made fresh grounds from a packet of beans stored in the freezer.

“Okay, we’re all here, Thomas. What’s up?” Fynch asked.

“We’ve had a request to entertain a steward.”

The others reacted like birds ruffling their feathers in agitation. There were several comments and questions, all issued at the same time, and lots of hand waving. I got the sense a visit from a steward was a big deal. I had no idea just how big of a deal, though.

Thomas held up a hand. “I’ve not responded, which is why you are here. I wish to solicit your thoughts. Adriana?”

“Absolutely out of the question. We don’t have time to prepare to receive a steward, and inviting a mage into this house after what’s just happened is unnecessarily risky.”

“I’ll take that as a no. Fynch?”

“Timing’s not great, but if you think we should, I won’t object.”

“Keg?”

The dwarf grunted.

“Another no. Melina?”

I looked around the room at the others. “I’m not qualified to vote. I mean, I’m not part of this house.” I felt a pinch on my forearm and rubbed it. No one else in the house appeared to be suffering from whatever affliction I had, which only made the mysterious episodes all the more puzzling. “Not sure I should even have a vote.”

“I kindly disagree,” Thomas replied.

“Who’s coming for a visit?” I asked.

“Piter Renard. He wants to meet you.”

The room erupted again until Thomas called for quiet.

“Me? Why meet with me?”

“You’re the successor to House Vervain.”

“But how would he know that?” I asked. “Did Adam make that public knowledge?”

Thomas shook his head. “However, let’s connect some dots. I’m certain Piter is working with the Unseelie, and if the Unseelie located you in Cold Creek, it’s not out of the question that someone saw you meeting with Adam. Or perhaps they learned that he’d portaled there. Regardless, why else would a steward go to a strange town if not on mage business?”

“I’m changing my vote to a hard no,” Fynch said.

I was willing to go along with the sentiment in the room, but I had some questions.

“Why would Piter want to visit us right after possibly kidnapping or killing Adam? Feels a lot like returning to the scene of the crime, if you catch my drift.”

“It’s obvious,” Adriana replied. “He wants to finish what he started. Once he’s inside, he’ll kill you and take control of the house.”

“But didn’t Thomas say the Council frowned on infighting?” I replied. “Why would he risk blowing his big opportunity when he’s so close to getting what he wants?”

“Intel,” Keg chimed in. “If I were House Bergamot’s sentry, I’d be after any and all intel on what Vervain was up to. Weaknesses to exploit, that type of thing. That way, I’d be prepared when the deadline ran out.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Though I suspect there’s something more to his request for a visit. We have a saying in the mortal community: ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ I vote we agree to Renard’s request.”

A stunned silence filled the room.

“Still don’t like it,” Keg said.

I shrugged. “You said it yourself. He wants inside intel. Guess what? That cuts both ways. My experience with jerks is that their own egos get in their way. Perhaps I can trick him into divulging something important about his plans, something we can use against him.”

The dwarf nodded with a wicked grin. “We’re not inviting him inside our defenses. We’re luring him into a trap. I like it.”

“And his ego will ensure he takes the bait,” Fynch said. “I’m up for it.”

Thomas looked at Adriana, who appeared lost in thought for the moment before she responded. “Melina makes a good point, but there are protocols and conventions to be observed when entertaining a steward. There are much more important activities I’d rather attend to than the pomp and circumstance of entertaining a steward.”

The consigliere said, “I’m open to the idea, which means we have three ayes and one nay. Adriana, what if we accept with the caveat that the typical protocols will be ignored, given the circumstances? I suspect Renard won’t mind, especially if Melina’s correct.”

She shrugged. “I still vote no. Melina hasn’t the first clue about Council etiquette, nor does she have any grasp of the politics of the mage community. But I’ll support the group’s wish to the best of my ability with two recommendations. Renard must come alone. No entourage, no consigliere. And second, Thomas and I must be in the room with Melina and Renard at all times.”

Thomas clapped his hands once, rubbed them together. “Agreed, and sound advice. Thank you all for your considered thoughts. I’ll let Renard know we’ll receive him. He’s requested a seven o’clock arrival tonight, which gives Adriana and me two hours to prepare Melina for her introduction to the larger mage community.”

“And we will need every minute of it,” Adriana said. “Fynch, the fading lessons are on hold for now. Please assist Keg with securing the house. I do not think Renard will try anything, but I would rather not take the chance. We will confine him to the living room.”

“On it,” Fynch said, and the pair left.

Thomas placed a French press and a coffee mug in front of me. “Cream or sugar?”

“Neither, thank you.” I slowly pushed down on the top of the press, trapping the coffee grounds at the bottom. I poured the coffee into my mug and inhaled the lovely aroma. The dark roast was exactly what I needed: a caffeinated recovery from my fading sessions, which had sucked all my energy.

“Now then,” Thomas began, “let’s talk about the mage community.”

Chapter Seventeen

A s a technical writer, I’m trained to drink information from a firehose in a short amount of time. Adriana and Thomas tested that skill with a massive data dump about the history of the Council and what to expect.

If I were officially the steward of House Vervain, things would have been much worse. Turned out the stewards and, to a lesser degree, the mages, typically treated visitors like they were royalty. Or the dignitary of a country.

Tons of pomp and circumstance. Rules and etiquette. Procedures and protocol.

Given I wasn’t a steward or even a mage, we agreed to lean on that fact as an excuse in case I made any missteps. My status wouldn’t excuse all behavior, of course.

Primarily, I was repeatedly warned not to say anything that could be interpreted as a threat against Renard, as he could use that as justification to lodge a complaint with the Council. Even though Thomas and Adriana were convinced Renard was the hand pulling the strings that led to Adam’s MIA status, they had nothing concrete they could bring to the Council.

I was also repeatedly told to say as little as possible. Despite his reputation for being somewhat of a brutish jerk, Thomas assured me Renard was neither gullible nor easily deceived.

And then we got to the mage community itself. Thomas was a walking trivia book when it came to the history of the mages.

“There’s a pecking order of sorts in the Council, with the oldest houses being amongst the most honored, feared, and respected. That includes Houses Lotus and Obsidian, each of which trace their roots back thousands of years. Houses Garnet and Bergamot are among the second generation of houses. Not quite old blood but definitely not new money, if you take my meaning.”

“Yep. Chafing against their middle sibling status. They’ll always look down on the new kids, but they’ll never have the respect of the founders they desperately want.”

Thomas looked impressed. “Quite. Renard is the epitome of that mindset. The older houses tolerate him because they must, and a few of the younger houses have decided Renard is the new guard and the future of the Council. It’s made for a turbulent time of late.”

“That’s his weakness, then,” I said. “He sees himself above the establishment.”

“Also astute. I suspect he would overhaul the Council or replace it entirely if he had his way.”

I was on my third cup of French press dark roast and feeling increasingly ready to face down Renard. Might have just been caffeine-fueled confidence, but I rode the wave, nonetheless. And the more I learned about Renard, the more I hated him.

“Renard likes to trace his heritage to the House of Valois French royalty line,” the consigliere said. “He considers himself to be of two noble lineages, one mortal and one mage.”

“Is it true?”

Thomas snorted. “Hardly. His claims to the Valois line are both tenuous and dubious, and he’s yet to produce evidence to support his supposed ties. But he’s been tossing it around for so long, some of the younger mages have started to believe it.”

I made a note about that in case it came in handy.

“How long has he been steward of Bergamot?” I asked.

“Five years. He ascended when he was all of forty-three. He’s the youngest mage to hold the title of steward, and he’s quite keen to let everyone know that, as well.”

I drained my mug. Adriana had laid out some sweets on a tray, which I’d nibbled on while Thomas lectured. My favorite treat was a tiny pastry filled with blueberry preserve and topped with a tasty lemon frosting.

“Got it. Anything else?”

Thomas checked his watch. “Lots, but I’m afraid we’re out of time. Adriana and I will be there to field anything outside your comfort zone. Simply defer to us if you feel out of your depth.”

“Thanks,” I said, grateful to have the lifeline available. “Will do.”

The next few words had been on the tip of my tongue for hours, and I finally worked up the nerve to say them.

“Any word on Adam?”

Thomas adjusted his tie and said, “No. Oberon and Aine’s most trusted fae are scouring Cold Creek and searching for any sign of his location or status. I suspect he’s either dead or has been taken to the fae world by the Unseelie.”

“If there’s anything I can do—” I began.

Adriana interrupted me. “We’ll be sure to let you know. Thank you.”

Thomas’s eyes had gone shiny, and I let the matter drop.

Piter Renard, Steward of House Bergamot, was even more pompous in person than his reputation had led me to believe. He had a combination of smarmy charm and good looks that made my skin crawl.

He stood over six feet tall and could command a room simply by being in it. His curly dark-brown hair and black eyes were set against a tanned complexion, and he looked like a jacked-up bouncer. Not overweight, just really, really thick. When he smiled, it was a polished, toothy expression that made you want to reach for your wallet to ensure it was still in your possession.

Piter wore a dress shirt open at the neck, a pair of dark trousers, and a gray jacket. A colorful handkerchief threatened to leap from his jacket pocket.

Thomas was back in a full three-piece suit, which I now suspected was his default attire. Adriana had changed into a stunning amber gown that would have been completely at home on any red carpet.

I had done the best I could with the limited clothes I’d packed, which resulted in a pair of khaki slacks and a periwinkle blouse. Adriana had miraculously worked out the wrinkles, but I still felt underdressed.

Piter enthusiastically shook hands like he was a politician on the campaign trail before turning somber.

“I’m keenly aware of the loss you all have suffered, and on behalf of House Bergamot and, indeed, the entire mage community, you have our deepest sympathies. I am ever hopeful Adam will turn up alive and safe. In the meantime, thank you for extending your hospitality when I’m sure you have so many things to attend to.”

He lowered his eyes at the end and awaited our response. I was nearly speechless at both his arrogance and his ability to act. Smarmy behavior aside, he truly seemed upset.

Not that any of us believed it.

Adriana looked like she was ready to strangle Renard with her bare hands. Thomas’s jaw worked overtime, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d cracked a tooth.

No more than a second or two had passed, but I felt the urge to fill the silence. I leaned on every British historical period book I’d read. For the record, I didn’t curtsey.

I pictured myself as a royal member of a court. Machiavelli? Pfff. Compared to me, he was a little schoolboy. Elizabeth I? A mere social climber.

Honey, in my mind, I was Melina Morgan, a woman respected for her wisdom and feared for her razor-sharp, double-entendre-dealing tongue.

You’re in my house now, Piter.

“The attack on me and Steward Essein and his subsequent disappearance are certainly a blow to the entire mage community,” I replied. “I’m sure you agree that those responsible should be brought to justice.”

Piter’s eyes remained lowered for a moment before he met my gaze. I tried to plumb their depths, but they remained as opaque as an oil slick.

“Indeed, Melina.”

I caught the familiarity, as well as a chance to potentially needle him a little more. I turned to Thomas. “You have told me of the genteel nature of the mage community, Mr. Crane. Is it true all mage guests take such liberties when addressing their host?”

The consigliere blinked at me in confusion at first before catching on. “I assure you, Ms. Morgan, any lapse in civility is surely an outlier.”

My gaze slid back to Piter, who was just now realizing I was referring to him.

“Forgive me. I’m still quite rattled by the loss of Steward Essein.”

I smiled and waved a hand in a gesture of forgiveness, ignoring the implication in Piter’s words.

Loss? Did he just confess that Adam was dead? Or did he simply mean the steward’s unknown whereabouts?

“Of course,” I replied. “Shall we?”

I walked into the living room and took a seat in the large armchair Thomas had recommended. It situated me in the bay window facing the rest of the room. He’d moved the chair into that spot on purpose.

Thomas and Adriana sat in the two chairs flanking the sofa, which all but forced Piter onto the sofa and directly across from me. Thomas had selected the sofa because it was shorter than usual. The arrangement of everyone also meant I was haloed by sunlight, which meant Piter would be dealing with daylight glare when looking at me.

All petty little efforts, but we wanted every advantage we could muster.

Piter casually looked about, perhaps realizing how he’d been manipulated. He sat without a word and tried to adopt a posture that didn’t make him look laughable. He failed miserably. After several attempts, he settled for crossing his legs, even though it meant his knees were almost as high as his head. He looked comical.

“Steward Renard,” I began, “I’m so pleased you made the journey here to express your condolences. It speaks volumes about your character.”

His face looked frozen in fury, and he struggled to complete a sentence. “Um, yes, well, of course I had to come. Here. To your house. To you. For the condolences.”

Adriana stifled a grin, confirming I’d scored some points.

I decided to double down.

“And of course, House Vervain is most honored to welcome a friend during this trying time. Especially one who would demonstrate a show of solidarity. A strike against one house is a strike against us all. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Piter sat silently for so long, I wondered if he’d suddenly gone deaf. I nearly snapped my fingers in front of his face. But the hamster in his head doggedly got back on the wheel.

“Yes. Of course. A terrible tragedy for our community.”

Thomas and Adriana had painted him as a vindictive, malicious mage seeking to eradicate the fae from the face of the world. Either he was putting on a good show—trying to lull me into a false sense of security—or he wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the box.

Even if he isn’t super smart, that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous.

True, true.

“Thank you for appearing in person, Steward Renard. Your gesture has been noted. Is there, perhaps, something else you’d care to discuss?”

“As a matter of fact, there is, Ms. Morgan. May we converse privately?”

Thomas interceded. “Respectfully, Steward Renard, Ms. Morgan is neither a mage nor a steward, simply the next in line. She’s still learning about the mage community, and I suspect I can more readily answer your question.”

“I suspect,” Piter countered, “that she’s far more learned about our community than you let on.” A flicker of something dark crossed his face for a split second. There and gone again before his creepy smile returned. “And as it happens, I’m not interested in discussing mage business.”

That wasn’t good.

We’d always presumed we could find a way to keep me from being alone with Piter. If Thomas and Adriana left, the mage was free to do just about whatever he wanted. I had a few resources to deal with the Unseelie, but I had nothing to use against Piter.

Or did I?

My gut said I needed to hear what Piter had to say, but if he wasn’t going to discuss things around the others, then I’d have to risk being alone with him. And as long as I played to his ego, I felt I’d survive the talk.

Probably.

“Mr. Crane, if you and Ms. Adriana would be so kind?” I asked.

“If you’re sure that’s your desire.” Thomas looked at me with a pleading expression to change my mind.

“It is, Mr. Crane, thank you.”

“Very well.” He and Adriana stood. “We’ll be outside if you require anything.”

My heart was beating a mile a minute. I’d have preferred to face down a pack of vicious fae boggarts or a marauding group of murdering red caps. I put on a face far braver than I actually felt and struggled to put some casual confidence into my voice.

“And now you have the privacy you requested, Steward Renard.”

He regarded me like a slab of high-priced beef. My skin crawled.

“I confess, you are not what I expected.”

“Oh?” I said in an offhanded manner. “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“On the contrary, I’m pleasantly surprised and equally delighted to make your acquaintance.”

I accepted the compliment with a smile and parried his flattery. “And you have proven to be an enigma based on what I’ve heard.”

Piter caught the nuanced meaning in my words, and I swear a smile tugged at his mouth.

“I wasn’t sure who Adam’s successor would be. A mortal from Cold Creek, North Carolina, was not on my short list.”

“I wasn’t aware Steward Essein had chosen a successor, but if he had, I would most certainly be at the bottom of his list.” I pinned him with a look of feigned disappointment. “And I’m equally certain you didn’t ask Thomas and Adriana to leave so you could discuss a topic as mundane as my hometown.”

He didn’t deflect the redirect.

“No. No, I didn’t. I wanted to make you an offer, and I didn’t want them clouding your judgement. You deserve to have all the pertinent information before deciding. And you seem capable of making up your mind.”

I bit my tongue at the backhanded compliment. “I’m most relieved to hear my faculties remain up to your standards. What’s the offer?”

“Walk away from House Vervain. Go home, and forget all about this mage business.”

Brother, if you only knew . . .

“I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound like an offer.”

He nodded. “Fair enough. What would it take to convince you to leave Manhattan forever?”

My mind reeled with answers, none of which I felt he was capable of delivering. Let me go back home in peace, like I’d never crossed paths with Adam? Let me hand over the steward’s position to someone the House Vervain members approved of as long as it wasn’t me? Forever guarantee my safety from the fae?

Actually, that last one might be within his powers. Adriana had said Piter wanted to wipe the fae from the mortal plane.

“I’d like to know your interest in House Vervain. It might help me identify an enticement.”

Piter brushed absently at his slacks and adopted a not-very-convincing attitude of casualness. “The full answer to that would require more time than I have or that you might wish to devote to the topic. Let’s just say the absence of House Vervain would save countless lives.”

Based on what I’d been told about him, Piter meant mortal lives.

“It’s my understanding Vervain has chosen a protective role here in Manhattan over the fae who reside in the city. How would its dissolution save lives?”

Piter leaned forward, sighed, and stood. I guess he’d had enough time in the short sofa.

“With your permission, I’d prefer to stand.” He grimaced as he rubbed at his lower back. “The unfortunate side effects of getting older.”

“Please,” I replied.

“I’m going to put my cards on the table. The Vervain stewards were astute in their assessment of the magic potential this island holds. Or rather, the ley line nexus beneath it. Unfortunately, they squandered that gift, ignored the near limitless power at their fingertips.”

I stared at him with a neutral expression, curious where his discourse would take us. It went pretty much where I expected.

“House Vervain has the capability to seal off the fae world from ours. Permanently. No more fae interfering with our lives. No more fae cursing or kidnapping innocent humans. Instead, the previous Vervain stewards turned a blind eye to the real threats to their own kind. They chose to willingly keep the door between our worlds open for any monster to walk through. You asked why I want Vervain dissolved. Here is your answer: I’m going to use the power of this nexus to close the door, lock it, and throw away the key.”

Given what I knew about the mages’ attitude about the fae, Piter’s comments were hardly a surprise. And I had to admit if any of the Vervain mages had felt the same way, my life and my ancestors’ lives would have been far different.

All water under the bridge at this point, however, and it still didn’t explain why Piter wanted a private audience with me.

“I’m confused, Steward Renard. I’m simply a mortal visiting Manhattan. Why are you telling me this?”

The first crack in his charm armor appeared. “Don’t play dumb. It isn’t a good look for you.”

I spread my hands. “As you say. I still don’t understand why you’re talking with me instead of Mr. Crane or Ms. Adriana.”

He lifted a finger to his lips for a moment as he formulated his reply. “I know Adam—Steward Essein—took an interest in you, and it’s not hard to parse his intentions. You’re next in line, but I’m certain no one revealed their own motives or the true nature of the fate of humanity. Leaving the door open between the mortal and fae worlds is slowly tearing reality apart. Steward Essein refused to acknowledge that. He chose the fae over his own kind, even though it meant he was sealing our fate.”

“And if you were to obtain control of the nexus? What then?”

He couldn’t keep the eagerness out of his voice.

“I’ll undo the damage to our world, safely return the fae to theirs, and ensure both communities live peacefully apart for the rest of time.”

“And what of the fae who are trapped here?” I asked. “What’s to be done with them?”

Piter shrugged. “With the nexus under my control, I can send them safely home. I’ll end their exile.”

He was painting a picture of himself as the hero and savior for both communities, but I suspected his true motives were more complex.

“And if they choose to stay?”

His smile slipped briefly towards a sneer, and another chink in his charm armor revealed itself. “Why are you so protective of the fae, when they’ve been hunting you all your life?”

Nod had said only a few fae knew about me and my ability. Maybe that was true. I didn’t think Nod had lied.

However, the Unseelie had somehow located me in Cold Creek. How? And where did Piter fit into the picture?

I didn’t see a situation where he would be working with Oberon and Aine, and nothing House Vervain had shared with me supported that view, either. The most logical conclusion was that Thomas had called it correctly: Piter was working with the Unseelie.

When I laid all the puzzle pieces on the table, the image that emerged indicated Piter might have been the one who had pointed the Unseelie in my direction.

I still didn’t know how he’d become aware of my existence, though. But whether or not he’d meant to tip his hat, he’d just admitted to knowing I had a connection to the Fair Folk.

“I’m flattered at the amount of interest you show in a pedestrian mortal from a tiny coastal town in North Carolina, but whatever would the fae want with me?”

The sneer froze in place while he scrambled for cover, though it didn’t take him long. “Adam visits a remote town for no obvious reason, is attacked by the fae, and then you show up at his house minutes later. Obviously, the fae were after you. Connecting the dots of his disappearance to the arrival of a guest at House Vervain did not require an excessive amount of sleuthing.”

Okay, yeah, he slipped up. That wasn’t the most convincing retort.

“I see. Lucky for you, then, I suppose.”

It took Piter a few seconds to recognize my insult, but he found his footing again and didn’t take the bait.

“You know, you’re far smarter than you let on, so let’s get to the marrow of the matter. You are the key to Vervain’s future. However, Adriana and Thomas haven’t been fully honest with you, and you’re in danger of making a mistake that could put humankind on a perilous, if not fatal, path.”

He got close enough that he was now looking down on me, which I’m sure was his intent. I stayed seated, determined not to let him get under my skin or show any sign of being cowed by his theatrics. Piter absently tugged at his shirt cuffs. I got the impression he primped so often he wasn’t even aware he was doing it.

The steward continued. “The fae are much closer to securing the nexus than anyone realizes. The Council is close to moving against House Vervain. Adam wasn’t looking for a successor, he was looking for a sucker. He knew his house was doomed, and he wanted out. Give me the Vervain ring, and I can make all these problems go away.”

Certainly an interesting and convenient take, given I couldn’t verify any of it.

“First of all, I don’t know what ring you’re referring to. Second of all, even if that were true, why would Ms. Adriana and Mr. Crane remain?” I asked.

Piter smirked and stepped away. “Fine, play dumb for now. As for Crane, he’s a true believer and blind to the truth. He’s also got a rather long and intertwined history with Adam. The consigliere would go down with this ship without a second thought. As for the elf, she’s Fair Folk. They don’t want coexistence, they want domination. You’re a pawn, Ms. Morgan, and you’ve been manipulated from the start. Please, for your own sake, walk away. Return to your home in Cold Creek. You’ve no idea of the amount of danger you’re in.”

I appreciated Piter’s intelligence the more time I spent with him. He was working several angles in an attempt to get me out of the way. First, he’d tried to bribe me. Then he’d cast himself as the savior of the planet. Then he’d tried to play on my fear of the fae. Finally, he’d tossed a lifeline of hope by giving me permission to slink home and forget all about the mage houses and the fae.

I could almost see him mentally checking the boxes as we chatted. And he used his size to amplify his words or give a sense of perceived safety, depending on his needs.

Little surprise that he’d won over a few stewards to his cause.

“I must confess,” I said, “that this is both fascinating and surprising. Yet, I can’t help but point out that you are making several claims without providing any evidence.”

“Then may I suggest you seek the input of a neutral party? There is a being who goes by the name of Wren.” He waited for a reaction. “I can see neither Adriana nor Crane have mentioned her.”

“We’ve had a busy day,” I replied.

“Indeed. Wren is neither fae nor mortal, and she resides at the heart of Central Park, directly above the nexus. Simply enter the park, and she’ll seek you out. Listen to her. Listen to all sides on the matter and then make your decision.”

“Central Park?”

He nodded. “It’s just a few blocks from here. Wren can give you all the answers you’re looking for. I’m sure you’ll make the right choice.”

I still didn’t trust Piter, but I was now wondering how much I could trust Adriana and Thomas. The consigliere had confessed he didn’t support Adam’s choice of successor, and Adriana flat out told me I wasn’t qualified. And why hadn’t either of them mentioned this Wren entity?

I’d been in Manhattan for something like twelve hours, and my views on the fae were spinning more than a compass in a pile of magnets.

True, I no longer feared for my life around the Vervain members, but my paranoia reminded me of the mysterious doorway Adriana said I couldn’t open.

Another thought occurred to me: no one had bothered to ask me whether I wanted to be steward. I’d only volunteered to come to Manhattan for a short visit. I’d never agreed to be Adam’s successor. Yet, everyone was acting as if it was all a foregone conclusion.

Looks like I’m going for a walk in Central Park.

Chapter Eighteen

“S o, what did the little toad have to say?” Adriana asked after Piter had left. The Vervain members and I had gathered in the kitchen for a debrief.

I recited our exchange with one slight omission: I mentioned nothing of Wren or Central Park.

“Lies and deceptions, that’s all he’s capable of,” Thomas said. “And he knows we have the ring.”

“He definitely knows more about me than I’m comfortable with,” I replied. “He all but admitted to knowing about my sight and the fact the Unseelie have been after me my entire life.”

“Until we place the house seal on you, Melina, everything is at risk,” Thomas said. “Once you’re officially the steward, Renard will have a much harder time getting his hands on Vervain and the nexus.”

And once I’m officially the steward, I’ll have a big ol’ bullseye on my back—and it won’t just be Piter coming after me.

I kicked that particular can down the road.

“Let me see if I have this correct,” I began. “As long as the ring remains safely with House Vervain, there’s a chance to install a new steward. The Council has given us three days to do that. Piter’s unlikely to directly attack the house, though he’s probably not above sending in some Unseelie to do his dirty work. So far, so good?”

Thomas replied, “With the additional wrinkle that I need to come up with a custom ritual to deal with the fact that Adam can’t be part of the transition. However, I’ve reached out to Steward Katia Correia of House Coriander.”

“Think he’ll help?”

He and Adriana exchanged a quick glance. Thomas adopted a pained expression.

“As we mentioned with Piter, you don’t simply knock uninvited on a steward’s door. Even if Katia accepted a meeting with me, she has a reputation for being unpredictable. She’s a puzzle, frankly. But Adam liked and respected Katia the most out of all the stewards. And House Coriander would be a very strong ally. We’d gain some maneuvering room with Renard if Katia backed us.”

“Then be sure to say please and thank you when you ask, Thomas,” I said.

He gave me a wry smile. “I’ll call his consigliere now.” He walked to his office.

“I’ll be in the armory if anyone needs me,” Keg said.

“Need any help?” Fynch asked. “That is, as long as it’s okay with Melina.”

I shooed the imp away. “Go. I’ve had enough fade training for one day.”

The pair left the kitchen.

“Adriana, would you be kind enough to make me a cup of coffee and something to eat?”

“I was about to prepare dinner, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Perfect. I’ll pop upstairs and unpack.”

And by unpack, I meant sneak out of House Vervain to find this mysterious Wren.

The downstairs hallway was empty. Keg and Fynch were secluded in the basement. I thought I heard the muffled thumping of a rock song, which would explain the sound-proofed basement door. Either of the fae could have been a rock fan, but my money was on Fynch.

I passed the stairs. Thomas’s door was closed. I quietly opened the box by the front door and retrieved my sliver of iron. Luckily, my coat hung from the rack in the front hall. I slipped it on and went through the process of fading.

My outline is beginning to disappear. My outline is hazy. My outline is gone. The rest of my body is slowly disappearing, too . . .

I’d have preferred to spend more time on it, but I feared being caught. Besides, I had no idea if it had worked.

I opened the front door, relieved that it didn’t make a lot of noise. Icy air swept in, as did noise from the street. I stepped outside, closed the door, and dashed down the steps to the sidewalk.

Thanks to my phone’s map app, I now knew the shortest route to Central Park. A zig-zagging line linked my current location to the park, which was northwest of me. Some walking and a handful of turns should get me there, no problem.

The streetlamps were on, and the sidewalks in this part of Manhattan weren’t very busy. The few pedestrians I crossed paths with didn’t pay me any attention, though that might not all have been from the fading. Regardless, I felt a pinch more confident.

I walked quickly and followed the map’s directions.

The city was beautiful and decorated for the holidays. Certainly not as cozy and quaint as Cold Creek but equally charming. And the city’s dense population made me feel safe in an unexpected way. Hiding in Cold Creek only worked because it was a remote dead zone. There was no crowd to get lost in.

Hiding in Manhattan felt infinitely easier, because there were simply so many other people there. Disappearing into a crowd of a few million was super easy.

I counted on that as I weaved my way to the park.

No one appeared to be following me, but I was spotting more fae than I had ever seen in one day. Brownies, sprites, elves, dwarves, dryads, gnomes, pixies, nymphs, selkies, leprechauns, and more.

Just two blocks from House Vervain, and I was already sweating.

Keep it together, Melina, they don’t have a clue who you are.

The smell of hot dogs and pretzels filled the air at most of the corners. Sidewalk vendors sold their wares from umbrella-topped carts. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. Wren first, food later.

I was three blocks from the park and feeling good about things when the sight of a pair of dearg elves nearly caused me to trip.

Oh, come on, not these two again!

The two fae were heading in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. I avoided looking directly at them, though I tried to keep an eye on them. They stopped and glanced in my direction.

My heart rate tripled, but I forced myself not to run.

My sneaky plan was feeling increasingly like a bad idea. No one in Vervain knew where I was, so I couldn’t rely on them for help if I got caught. I was surrounded by fae, a mix from both courts. If an Unseelie attacked me, would a Seelie fae reveal themselves and help? Would that be better or worse than facing the dearg alone? More to the point, what should I do now?

Dad had said my middle name was I got this. Whenever he’d mention the fae, I’d tell him not to worry. Whenever he fretted about my well-being, I’d reply that I had it handled. I kept telling myself I got this until I believed it was true.

In reality, all I’d managed to do was get myself in a barrel of trouble.

I could keep going towards the park and maybe lose the dearg, or I could turn around and make a run for it back to House Vervain. If there were more Unseelie about, and I was sure there were, heading back felt more dangerous. They had to be watching House Vervain, just as Piter almost certainly was.

I walked on.

At the next corner, I waited for the cars to clear and risked a look around. The dearg had crossed the street and were coming up directly behind me, less than half a block away.

The walk light turned green, and cars slowly came to a stop. I was close enough to Central Park to see the entrance: the open gate set back from the street beckoned to me. The only problem was, I knew I couldn’t outrun the dearg. They’d be all over me before I got to the gate.

I had the sliver of iron in my hand, and that was about it. No broom, no salt, and only some sourdough crumbs in my pockets. Not a lot to work with. I berated myself again for not having a better plan.

My eyes stopped on the pretzel cart just a few feet from me.

Pretzels!

“I’ll take ten,” I said to the vendor. He started pulling pretzels from a freezer and dropping them on a hot griddle. My heart sank when I realized he was warming them up. I didn’t have time for that. I handed him forty dollars. “Don’t bother, I’ll heat them up later.”

The guy shrugged, took my money, and bagged the pretzels.

I turned to face the dearg. They’d closed the gap until they were nearly on top of me.

I screamed at the top of my lungs and hurled the pretzels at the dearg like ninja throwing stars. Thankfully, the dearg weren’t immune to bread. They dodged the doughy knots and backed up. As soon as I’d hurled the last pretzel, I sprinted into the street.

Timing and fate were in my favor. As I’d hoped, I’d stepped off the curb just as the streetlights turned green. Cars began moving again, a few honking at me as I leapt onto the sidewalk on the far side of the street.

Piter had said Wren would find me as soon as I entered the park. I hoped she didn’t waste a lot of time.

I ran as quickly as I could through the gate and into the shadowy park. Scattered lights offered some illumination, but much of the area was covered in darkness. I avoided the pools of light as best I could.

More honking from behind me. I looked back. The dearg darted through traffic and narrowly avoided being flattened by a truck. I’d put some distance between us but not nearly enough to make me feel like slowing down.

I saw a few people out for a night stroll, most of them fae. With no way to tell which court they belonged to, I huffed my way past them and wished I was in better shape.

The dearg were quickly closing the gap. I didn’t have a lot of time.

Up ahead and at the turn of the path was a darkened tunnel. I had never been more happy to see a creepy tunnel.

I sped up as much as my legs allowed and didn’t stop until I was leaning against the wall in the middle of the tunnel. The space wasn’t totally dark, but if I could fade, I might shake the dearg long enough to find Wren.

My outline is beginning to disappear. My outline is hazy. My outline is gone. The rest of my body is slowly disappearing, too. My head has vanished. Now my arms are invisible. Now my legs have disappeared. All that’s left is my torso, and that’s disappearing, too.

Fynch had said fading was harder to do when someone was looking at you. He should have added gasping for air while being chased by Unseelie to the list of challenging situations.

I closed my eyes and repeated the mantra until I heard footsteps. The dearg slowed and stopped at the entrance to the tunnel. My breathing was still fast and loud, but if I was properly faded, that shouldn’t be a problem.

The fae split up, each stepping tentatively into the tunnel. They moved in tandem, their steps now silent. There wasn’t enough light to see their faces. I pressed back against the brick wall and felt the coldness seep through my jacket.

Oh, please, please, please let me get out of this, and I promise I won’t ever leave House Vervain alone again.

The dearg reached the other side of the tunnel. Just as I thought I might have eluded them, they turned around. I gasped. The reaction must have broken my concentration because the pair closed on my position. I freaked, and in the process, I fully lost my grip on my fade.

Silhouetted against the gray light of the tunnel’s exit, a third figure appeared between the dearg. The mysterious entity lifted a sword in the air.

I just went from the frying pan and into the fire while doused in gasoline and lighting matches as fast as my fingers will allow.

Chapter Nineteen

A  series of whacks from the sword echoed in the air. The dearg turned, their arms raised in defense. More whacks, and the fae scampered off like two dogs who’d just made the mistake of cornering a skunk.

“And don’t ever come back!” the sword bearer said with a female voice, though that didn’t begin to describe the sound. Imagine the thundering roar of a massive waterfall or the crashing of a huge wave. Power coursed through the words, which also had a chirpy, clipped edge to them.

A small light as bright as a candle appeared at the tip of the sword, which turned out not to be a sword at all but a canary-yellow umbrella. Its holder was an elderly woman with white hair and all-white eyes. My sight ability told me there was some kind of glamour around her, but it was different from any I’d seen before. I couldn’t tell if this was her illusionary appearance or her true form.

Whatever the case, she was definitely not mortal.

“Thank you,” I said. “You saved my life.”

“Despite your impressive efforts to lose it.”

Okay, I can’t really argue with that.

I also couldn’t argue with the effect of being so close to her. Intimidating and off-putting, yet without feeling threatening. I wasn’t scared, but I was totally awed by her presence.

“I’m looking for Wren,” I said. “Piter Renard sent me.”

The entity snorted and made a sound like she was clucking her tongue. “I’m sure he did, though not for the reasons you suspect.”

My hand still gripped the tiny sliver of iron in my pocket, but a part of me knew it would be useless against Wren. Not that I felt the need for defenses.

“I’m beginning to think you’re right,” I said. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Piter had toyed with me and found my weakness. He’d applied just the right amount of pressure to my paranoia to flush me out into the wild, where his Unseelie flunkies found me.

Wren made a whistling kind of noise. A handful of unnaturally large fireflies appeared and hovered around her.

Correction: not fireflies. And not will o’ wisps, either, given we weren’t near any bodies of water. I guessed these were pixies.

Wren whistled and chittered, and the pixies zoomed away, disappearing in the night. She opened her umbrella, which became fully illuminated.

“Walk with me, Melina Morgan.”

“Aren’t you worried about the light from the umbrella?” I asked. I walked next to her but not under the umbrella. If Wren was blind, she somehow made up for it. Her gait was steady and her footsteps confident.

“No. I am, however, worried about you. You are an unforeseen element in an equation that’s still being written.”

“Did you just call me an X factor? Because it sounds like you just called me an X factor.”

She shrugged, the umbrella’s illumination bouncing as she did. Her fingers were unusually long and thin, even for an elderly mortal—which I was certain she was not.

“An equally applicable term to describe equally applicable risks. Risks that directly affect me and all those I have sworn to protect. So, yes, I’m worried, and I’m not someone who enjoys being worried.”

“I’ll take worried over fearful,” I muttered, not intending for her to hear.

She must have, anyway. “I’m sure. And you have much to be fearful of.”

“Thanks, that’s definitely making me less afraid.”

“The foolish fear nothing. Are you a fool?” I frowned and said nothing. “Hmph. Smart enough to know when to keep your mouth shut, it would seem. There may yet be a path out of this storm. Why are you here?”

“Piter Renard told me to find you.”

“You met with him?”

“Yes. He shared his plans with me. He told me why he wants the nexus.”

“Oh, my. What awe-inspiring and mysterious revelations did he share?” The sarcasm in her voice wasn’t difficult to hear.

“He said that with the power he could pull from the nexus, he was going to send all of the fae home, even the ones trapped here. And then he was going to seal off the two worlds once and for all.”

“And you believed him?”

“Well. Maybe. I don’t trust him, but that’s—”

The umbrella snapped closed faster than I could follow with my eye, and Wren flicked it in front of me. I stumbled to a halt. “If it were that easy, do you not think Adam would have done so already?”

Oh, Melina, you are a silly, silly goose.

I gritted my teeth. How could I have missed that?

Because you thought you could outsmart Piter. You tripped over your own ego.

If Piter had lied about that, he’d probably lied about the portal between the worlds wrecking our reality. I should have listened to Adriana and Thomas. Piter couldn’t open his mouth without lies spilling out.

Wren’s umbrella opened again, and she resumed walking. “The nexus grants raw power, but that power is still defined by certain rules that cannot be broken. One of those rules is that fae trapped on this plane can never safely go home. They are bound to this world as surely as you are bound to your bones.”

I looked back over my shoulder. We were heading deeper into the park, and the number of fae around us was skyrocketing. They silently dipped their heads at Wren or greeted her with awe-filled words. A few made a gesture with their hands I wasn’t familiar with. The fae reached out as if snagging something from the air, then placed their palm on their chest.

All of which was to say, I no longer had any doubts about Wren’s power or her standing in the Manhattan fae community.

“I should be getting back home,” I said.

“You should be asking me questions. You should be grateful to be alive. You should be many things right now, but getting back home isn’t one of them.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

Wren frowned. “I supposed that’s technically a question. Not a great one, but we’ll start with that. We’re going there.” Wren tilted her umbrella until it pointed to a building in the distance. “What the mortals call Belvedere Castle, and what I call home.”

The building overlooked a lake, which I found surprising. “I didn’t know Central Park had a lake and a castle.”

“You should stick with questions for the time being. You sound smarter when you do.”

“Hey, now, I don’t need to be insulted when I’m fighting for my—”

Wren doubled in size and cast a shadow that looked serpentine. Okay, maybe she just turned her head to look at me, but her gaze was intimidating as all get out. I shut my mouth.

“Yes, yes, fighting for your life while you reject every effort from those who seek to help you. First, you drive off the dwarf who sought only to protect you, then you refuse Adam’s invitation, then you run through the city chasing the lies of a madman. It is truly amazing you have survived as long as you have.”

“That’s not—” I clamped my mouth shut. “Look, my world’s been turned upside down and inside out in the past week. I don’t even know what day it is anymore, much less how I’m supposed to survive. But I’m here, and I’m still alive, and if you can help me, I would really be grateful.”

Wren nodded. “I cannot fill a cup that already overflows. Will you release the falsehoods you cling to so I can replace them with the truth?”

“Sure.” She side-eyed me. “Yes,” I said, more confidently.

“I’m neither mortal nor fae, though I have witnessed the two communities from the moment they collided. The waves from that first encounter continue to ripple forward, growing with each passing year. The mages hate the fae. The Unseelie hate the mortals. And the mortals, most of them, anyway, are oblivious to the threats circling them.”

“Where do you fit in with all this?”

“I have protected the nexus below us from the moment it came into existence. I draw on its power to provide shelter to the fae who are stuck in this world or simply seek shelter from the mages and others. Since the founding of House Vervain, I have lent the stewards some of the power from the nexus.”

Whoa.

That was all news to me, and I couldn’t help but wonder why Adriana and Thomas hadn’t mentioned Wren and her connection to Vervain.

“That’s why the council hates Vervain so much. That’s why Piter wants his hands on the nexus.”

“Precisely. And with Adam gone, Renard has gotten one step closer to achieving just that. Unless, of course, someone stops him.”

“Do you know if Adam’s still alive?”

“I don’t, and that’s frustrating, and I’m not someone who enjoys being frustrated. But I believe there’s a chance he survived his clash with the Unseelie.”

Wren led me down a narrow, winding path that circled to the back of the castle and ended at a door marked Employees Only. She closed her umbrella and rapped gently on the door three times before opening it.

I’d expected a maintenance room or some shadowy hallway. Instead, a well-lit curved staircase rose up and out of sight. I smelled incense and food in the warm air gusting out into the night. Wren gestured for me to enter.

The stairs ended in a large room filled with fae, almost all of whom were sprites. I’d never been in the castle before, but I knew the inside was breaking all kinds of physics laws. There was no way the building we’d walked into could possibly have this interior.

That didn’t shock me as much as it might have two weeks ago.

“The inside of the castle doesn’t match the outside,” I said, immediately regretting the obviousness of my statement.

Wren cut me some slack. “The mortal structure was built in the 1860s and, annoyingly, on the exact spot as my home.” She huffed. “I was here first, and I see no reason to move or alter my home to fit the castle.”

Lit candles were the only source of light, many of them barely a thimble of light surrounded by wax long since melted and frozen in place. Like House Vervain, garlands and flowers decorated the room.

The fae were mostly sprites, though I saw pixies and dryads, too. As Wren entered, conversations trailed off, one by one, until a hushed silence filled the room. The fae dropped their heads or bowed to Wren as we crossed the room. They all made the hand gesture I’d seen earlier.

Wren led me to another staircase that circled up in a tight arc. Below, the voices resumed as soon as we’d left the room, though with an elevated level of excitement.

I was breathing heavily by the time we reached the top of the stairs. I guessed we’d gone up around nine or ten floors, but the effort was worth it. Wren and I were in a small room with a breathtaking view of the park and the Manhattan skyline. The room’s windows offered a 360-degree view.

“Incredible,” I whispered.

Wren hung her umbrella on a hook and smiled at that. “It is. The designers of the castle called it Belvedere for a reason. Bel means beautiful, and vedere, means view. I’ve never been clear on whether they were referring to the view of the castle or the view from the castle, but there’s no question the latter certainly applies.”

A table for two nestled next to a window. Wren sat. A second later, a sprite delivered a tray of treats and two steaming teacups. How she was able to carry the tray, given her small size—much less fly while doing so—spoke to the hidden and literal strengths of the fae.

The brown-skinned sprite had a killer afro, and she wore tiny combat boots. A constant shimmer of sparkles enveloped her, noticeable but barely.

“Thank you, Glimmer,” Wren said.

The fae bowed to Wren and flew down the stairs.

The room smelled like mint and chocolate, and the treats were either fresh from the oven or had just been warmed up. I eyed the tray but didn’t move to take anything.

“As I said, I’m neither fae nor mortal,” Wren said. “But I give you my word you are safe while in my home and may eat and drink without concern.”

Good enough.

I popped a small, square cookie into my mouth. I was expecting a kind of shortbread taste, but the cookie exploded with a divine molasses flavor.

“This house has always been here?” I asked. I sipped from my teacup, though the contents had a consistency closer to coffee than tea.

“I crafted it as soon as I discovered the nexus. I’ve been its guardian ever since.”

“Your glamour must be why no one’s noticed it, right?”

“That term applies to the fae in a way that doesn’t accurately transfer to my abilities. A better description is that my home exists inter-sectionally and simultaneously in more than one dimension.” Her face pointed directly at me, though I had no idea where her white eyes were focused. I doubted she relied on sight as mortals understood it. “So, having risked your life to find me, is this what you’d like to discuss, Melina? The history of my home?”

I ate another cookie. Peanut butter this time, and equally delicious as the first.

“No. I’d like to know what you know about the fae and why they gave me the gift of sight.”

“Has no one told you?”

“I’d prefer to hear your version.”

She snorted. “An interesting choice of words, though perhaps more apt than you might think. Very well, here is my version. The fae have been visiting your world for millennia. They hid themselves from the mortals and the mages. But five centuries ago, give or take, the Unseelie became so active, they brought the fae to the attention of the mages.”

Wren looked out the window.

“I had hoped the two communities would find a way to peacefully coexist. I was gravely mistaken. The mages declared all fae to be an existential threat to humankind and began hunting them. It was war, and it played out more or less behind the scenes. Most mortals had no clue, even though they were often caught up in the crossfire.”

“Thomas told me the mages have ways to hide magic from mortals. My neighbors think the Unseelie attack on my home and Adam was a freak meteorological event.”

A nod from Wren. “Just so. I watched with an increasingly heavy heart as these two communities tore each apart. Then a most surprising thing happened. A new mage house was admitted to the Council, and its steward embraced the fae community. That house has been a thorn in the mage community ever since.”

“House Vervain.”

“Mmm.”

“Adriana supposedly gave me the gift of sight. She said she also gave it to my ancestors.”

Wren tilted her head at that. “She told you that, did she? In that case, I feel comfortable sharing the following. Adriana has been an advocate of mortals for as long as I’ve known her. She petitioned King Oberon and Queen Aine to allow her to gift the sight to a mortal in the hopes of circumventing the Council’s efforts to keep magic and the fae secret. Adriana hoped to build an alliance between the mortals and the Seelie.”

I laughed and almost choked on my drink. “That didn’t exactly go as planned. The first of my ancestors who was given the sight was killed by the fae. After that, my family became convinced the fae were cursing us on purpose. We’ve been hiding from them for generations.”

“A most unfortunate sequence of events, to be sure. However, Adriana and the other fae involved in this gifting went to great lengths to ensure the Unseelie were not able to repeat their misdeed.”

“Until they killed my mother,” I said. Adriana had denied it, but I was curious to hear Wren’s take.

“Your mother died of a rare infection that had nothing to do with the fae, Melina. Oberon, Aine, and the dozen or so other fae who know about you have been protecting you since the day you were born. But Renard and the Unseelie now know about you, too. Your secret is out, and you have more to worry about than just the Unseelie.”

I frowned and dusted the crumbs from my fingertips. “No kidding, and it’s all thanks to Adriana. I didn’t ask for the sight, and I’d get rid of it if I could. The sight is a curse. It’s brought nothing but death, fear, and paranoia to everyone inflicted with it.”

Wren’s voice took on a mournful tone. “If the sight is a curse, Melina, then you’re a victim living a tragic life. But if the sight is a gift, what does that make you?”

Chapter Twenty

“S top looking around,” Glimmer said. “You’re going to draw attention to yourself.”

The sprite had gone full glamour after Wren asked her to escort me back to House Vervain. Glimmer’s illusion wasn’t much different from her fae appearance, minus her pointed ears and wings, of course. Now that she was human-sized, I saw her eyes were light brown.

The sprite moved along the city sidewalks at a measured but energetic pace. Sporting a duster jacket and confidently thumping along in her heavy boots, I felt safer just being near her. If the dearg showed up, they’d think twice about messing with Glimmer.

That’s how I felt, anyway.

I sniffed. “Yeah, well, after the week I’ve had, I’ve got good cause to be worried.”

“I heard about that. The Unseelie suck.” The sprite made a small hop of excitement. “But, hey, you killed a farrow. A farrow!”

“How do you know about that?” I asked.

“Oh. Nod told me. He’s been bragging about you for a week.”

I looked at her in disbelief. Having the Unseelie and mages know about me was bad enough. Now it appeared Nod had been telling everyone about my tangle with the Unseelie.

“So much for keeping things on the down-low,” I said sarcastically.

“Hey, from what Wren’s told me, the Unseelie found out about you way before you took down the farrow. Nod’s not spreading news. He’s spreading hope.”

Glimmer nodded silently at the few fae we passed. So far, we’d avoided any Unseelie.

I shivered under my jacket. “Sounds more like he’s ruining my chances for a quiet life.”

Glimmer laughed. “Mel, sweetie, that quiet little life of yours? You can say buh-bye to that. The Unseelie are furious with you for killing the farrow. And since they’re working with Renard, I’d bet both my wings that Renard agreed to help them kill you in exchange for them helping him secure the nexus.”

I never liked it when people shortened my name. A boy at my high school tried doing it once. He thought it was cool or something. I swiftly and severely corrected him of that misconception.

The way Glimmer addressed me wasn’t charming or endearing, but her upbeat and casual attitude deflected my ire.

“Great. Everyone wants me dead. Even better.”

“Well, not everyone.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Okay, yeah, a lot of people want you dead. You’ve got a target on your back the size of Central Park.”

“Not too great at pep talks, are you?”

She placed a hand on my arm and pulled me to a stop. Her face was absolutely serious.

“My point is, not everyone wants you dead. House Vervain is protecting you. Wren likes you a lot, and that carries a ton of weight with the Manhattan fae. You may be hunted, but you aren’t alone.”

“I was safe when it was just me and Dad. Alone is better.”

“If you really believe that, then maybe you should go back to Cold Creek.”

Easier said than done. I’d only been in Manhattan for less than twenty-four hours, and I already felt the pull of tiny tethers working their way into my heart.

And despite my brave words, I no longer believed going home would automatically solve my problems. But was staying in Manhattan any better?

Glimmer got me safely back to House Vervain and delivered me like a lost little kid, which I suppose wasn’t completely undeserved. My ego smarted from falling for Piter’s tricks, and I was still trying to orient my compass.

Even if Thomas and Adriana and Wren were telling me the truth, what was I supposed to do? Become the next Vervain steward? Move to Manhattan, where Piter and the Unseelie would keep coming after me? What about Dad and Dee and the rest of my Cold Creek family?

I felt trapped, unable to go home and unable to stay.

I stood at the front door, my finger hovering next to the doorbell. “They’re going to be furious with me. What am I going to tell them?”

Glimmer rang the doorbell and lightly bumped her shoulder against mine. “The truth. They already know where you’ve been. Wren sent word as soon as she found you.”

Buttermilk biscuits.

The entire Vervain household ushered me inside and profusely thanked Glimmer for getting me back safely. Keg gave me a frowny face, and Fynch, bless him, looked relieved to see me. Thomas directed me and Adriana to his office and politely asked the dwarf and imp to give him a few minutes. He closed the door.

The elf looked angry or perhaps disappointed. She sat with crossed arms and stared at me. Thomas looked more concerned, though the crease above his nose hinted he, too, was upset. He sat behind his chair and motioned for me to take a seat. I did.

“Look,” I began, “I’m sorry. I let Piter trick me into finding this entity named Wren. I thought I was smart enough to outthink him, but I was wrong.”

“You were nearly killed,” Thomas said. “Do you have any idea—”

“I do,” I replied. “I really do. Like I said, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I’ve had kind of a crazy day.”

“And we haven’t?” Thomas pursed his lips. “If the dearg had killed you, House Vervain would be ripe for the harvest. I’ve enough on my plate with the ritual, and the last thing I need is you roaming the island alone while the Unseelie and Piter’s mages are after you.”

I spread my hands in the air. “I already apologized and promised not to do it again. What more do you want from me?”

He opened his mouth to say something but closed it. “Perhaps you’d enlighten us on the outcome of your walkabout?”

The retelling didn’t take long, and neither did the subtle change in the others’ expressions.

“Wren invited you inside the castle?” Thomas asked. “Fascinating.”

“It was. Total dimensional intersection stuff. Bigger on the inside and all that.”

“I meant I had no idea you were in the castle,” he replied, and he looked at me with a mix of renewed respect and surprise. “As far as I know, you’re the first mortal to ever set foot inside it. She must truly have been impressed with you.”

That sounded highly unlikely, given my recounting of the experience, though I didn’t argue with him.

“How’s the ritual coming along?” I asked.

“Painfully slowly, I’m afraid.” The consigliere checked the time. “Have you had dinner? You must be starved.”

“Wren served me.” Despite the small amount of food and drink I’d had, I found I wasn’t hungry at all. “I’m fine, thanks. In fact, I was thinking of finding Fynch. I clearly need to work on my fading.”

Adriana held up a hand. “The only thing you need to do is get a proper night’s rest. I’ll see you to your room. Thomas.”

The consigliere nodded at her, and I followed Adriana out into the hall.

“Are you quite sure you do not want dinner?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you. Wren’s food was filling.”

We went upstairs to the second floor. Adriana gestured at a door to her left.

“This is my room. The next door down is Keg’s, and the one after that is a guest room. Across from it is Thomas’s room.” I started down the hall to the guest room. “Where are you going?”

I paused. “Um, to my room?”

Adriana shook her head. “You’ve been upgraded.”

I followed Adriana up to a small landing that ended at a closed door. She opened it, revealing a massive room that wasn’t at all what I’d expected.

Three walls were covered in built-in bookshelves and filled with books, parchments, and a variety of items I guessed fell somewhere between art and magic items.

“Your bedroom and bathroom are through there,” Adriana said, indicating a large door on the fourth wall. She nodded at a regular-sized door in one corner. “That leads to the spiral staircase, which descends directly to your office on the first floor, completely bypassing the second floor. Alternatively, you can ascend the staircase to the retreat room on the fourth floor.”

I walked around the space. The leaded windows were narrow but tall and framed by thick, forest-green drapes. At the center of the room was a gold inlay pentacle roughly five feet in diameter. A sofa, two chairs, and a coffee table created a seating area off to one side. A desk and chair filled the rest of the space. Lots of plants were scattered about.

“What is this place?”

“The spell room. All the stewards perform their rituals here.”

That explained the star and circle in the floor.

“Where does the spiral staircase go again?”

“Some of the previous stewards enjoyed moving between their office and living quarters without disturbing the other residents. The third Vervain steward added a fourth floor, which is really just a small room. It is only accessible via the spiral staircase. Over the years, it has been referred to as the meditation room, the solarium, and the bird’s nest. Adam called it his retreat. He spent a great deal of time in there.”

“Got it.” I looked around the quarters, uneasy at the idea of moving into someone else’s bedroom. “We still don’t know what’s happened to Adam. Moving into his room feels creepy.”

Adriana smiled. Her expression was mixed with concern, but the anger no longer clouded her face. “He has been living on the second floor for some time. I believe he wanted everything to be ready for you. The room suits you. I have faith you will grow into it.”

“More than I do, apparently. Still feels weird. You sure I shouldn’t be in the guest room?”

“If it helps ease your heart, Adam rarely used his quarters in the past few months. His presence in this room has been absent for some time. I think he was preparing for his transition and wanted you to immediately step into your role.”

That made me feel better. At least a little, anyway. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I understand. But I am impressed by your resilience. Going alone to the park was dangerous, yet you survived. You will make a fine steward if you learn to trust us.”

Yeah. Trust. That’s something I’m still working on.

“I didn’t survive. I was saved. And I’m curious why no one mentioned Wren to me before. Given her connection to House Vervain, I’d have thought you or Thomas would have told me about her.”

The elf crossed her arms again, and her prickly nature surfaced. “A lack of experience does not preclude you from critiquing how this house is run, but you would do well to remember that I have served House Vervain for centuries. And if I have misstepped in some way, I will answer to Adam for any transgressions.”

“You seem to be demanding a lot of trust from me without showing much in return.”

“Says the mortal who fled from the safest place for her after a few minutes of chatting with someone she was warned was dangerous. Does that sound like trust to you?”

I swallowed my answer and offered something less antagonistic. “As I said, I know it was stupid, and I’ll never do it again. But even you have to admit I’ve been thrown one curve ball after another in the past few days. Maybe cut me some slack?”

Adriana’s expression softened, but her arms remained across her chest. “Sleep well, Melina. We’ll discuss this more in the morning.”

She retreated from the room and closed the door behind her. I walked into the bedroom area and found all of my bags and belongings. I also found a gigantic poster bed, another desk and chair, and a large walk-in closet.

The nightstand, desk, and closet had been meticulously swept clear of all personal objects. There wasn’t a single sign Adam or anyone else had lived there. The only article of clothing was a plain robe hanging from a hook in the bathroom.

The robe was extra-long and fluffy, and the claw-footed tub was gigantic. I decided a piping-hot bath was in order after what I’d been through. Unlike the rest of the house, the bedroom and bathroom on this floor had a more modern decor. Warm and inviting, but not quite as stuffy as Adam’s office.

Your office.

I haven’t said yes yet.

You haven’t told them no, either.

The water warmed my bones and fully dispelled the chill I’d picked up on my walk around Manhattan. It also cleared my head. I slipped into the robe with the most optimistic attitude I’d felt all day.

After spending hours with not one but multiple fae, I was perfectly fine. In fact, I’d survived yet another showdown with the dearg, even if I’d had help. Again.

And despite my years of prejudice, I found myself thinking of hanging around House Vervain a little longer. My, how quickly things could change.

I sat on the bed and replied to a text from Dee and assured her I was fine. Then I called Dad, who picked up on the first ring.

“What’s going on, and are you okay?” he asked.

“Let’s start with I’m okay. The first question is going to take a lot longer to answer.” I brought him up to speed on everything.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself about Piter. You’ve handled things far better than I could and at least as well as your mother would have. You sure you’re safe up there with the fae?”

“The ones in Vervain? Yeah, I actually think so. And Wren and the Central Park fae saved my life, so I think they’re okay, too. The Unseelie and the mages are my biggest concern.”

“Agreed,” Dad said. “On a brighter note, that dwarf stopped by to check on me. What’s his name? Ned?”

“Nod,” I replied. “And I’m glad to hear that. He’ll keep the Unseelie away.” I didn’t mention the mages, because I wasn’t sure how well Nod could hold his own against one.

“I’d feel better if I were up there.”

“Honestly, I would, too, Dad, but right now I think you’d just be one more target for them. Do me a favor and keep an eye on Cold Creek, okay? Let me know if you see anything unusual.”

“I will, but it’s been quiet since you left. I’d like to check on your house if you think it’s okay.”

Given what Adriana and Thomas had told me, that was probably fine. And if the Unseelie had wanted to come after Dad or anyone else back home, they probably would have done it already.

“Sure, but please wait till tomorrow.”

“Got it. Anything else I can help you with?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“How’s the Morton project coming along?”

My eyes slid over to the bags of documents and my laptop carrying case. I hadn’t totally forgotten about it, but I also hadn’t given it much thought. Kinda had a lot on my mind.

I’d lost a full day, and I didn’t have even an hour to spare with the deadline. Was it even possible at this point?

Maybe the better question was whether I could afford to fail.

The clock on the nightstand read ten minutes to eleven, and all I wanted to do was climb into bed and sleep for a week. Instead, I got out my laptop and pulled up the Focal XR-8 user manual.

There was a chance I could still save the consulting job, and the distraction of working on the user manual was surprisingly welcome after the day I’d had.

Chapter Twenty-One

T he gentle knocking at the outer door to my quarters continued with an annoying persistence. I ignored it as long as I could and tried to claw my way back to sleep. Eventually, the noise pulled me fully from my slumber.

“Coming,” I said, my voice hoarse and scratchy. I cleared my throat. “Coming!”

The knocking stopped, though that didn’t help with my fatigue. I’d gotten something like two hours of sleep trying to catch up on the Morton project.

I grabbed the robe and draped it over my t-shirt and flannel pants. “Who is it?”

“Adriana. I have brought refreshments.”

I opened the door. She wasn’t kidding; she held a tray with enough food to feed Skeeter and Joe and maybe even have some leftovers.

“Would you like breakfast in bed, or shall I set it up on the coffee table?”

“I, um—did you always bring Adam his breakfast like this?” The idea of having her serve breakfast every morning didn’t sit well with me. Then I remembered my manners. “Sorry, let me start over. Thank you so much, it smells delicious.”

She chuckled. “You are very welcome. And Adam only took breakfast in bed when he was under the weather.”

“Any chance I can enjoy this in the kitchen?”

“Of course.”

I padded down the stairs behind her, inhaling the sweet, sweet smell of freshly made coffee. I almost grabbed the mug straight off the tray. Adriana transferred the contents to the kitchen table while I struggled to keep my eyes open and sipped the coffee.

“Incredible,” I said. And it was. Better than any coffee I’d ever had.

“I am glad you enjoy it. Did you not sleep well? Is the bed not comfortable? Was the temperature too hot or too cold?”

I waved my hand. “No, no. Just needed to do some work for a project. It was a late night.”

Adriana held her hand over my mug. “May I?” I nodded. She cast a spell. “That should speed your recovery.”

I sipped the coffee and felt the effects immediately. My head suddenly had a lot less stuffing inside it, and I felt like I’d just woken from a refreshing nap.

“You really need to teach me how to do that,” I said, half joking.

“I plan to, but you will need to master fading first.”

The elf made herself a cup of tea and sat quietly with me while I eyed the meal she’d prepared. Pastries, toasted sourdough bread, and . . . was that apple butter?

“Is that apple butter?”

“It is.”

“How did you know?” I asked.

Adriana looked pleased with herself. “Oh, a little dwarf may have helped.”

A little dwarf named Nod.

I laughed. “Did he also tell you about my Beef Wellington?” Nod had said he loved it, but he might have been exaggerating to save my feelings.

“He said you served him a feast any dwarf would be lucky to enjoy. I knew you baked bread and cookies, but I did not know you were also such a talented cook.”

Right.

The fae had put a hidden message on the side of my house that mentioned my sugar cookies. Learning how much they knew about me was disconcerting, but it also reinforced Wren’s statement that the Seelie had been protecting me for a long time.

The sourdough toast wasn’t as good as mine, if I was being completely honest. And Mrs. Tilley wouldn’t dare put her name on the apple butter Adriana had served. But that didn’t stop me from making three slices.

“Talented cook is an overstatement,” I replied. “I’m more than happy to stick with baking.”

“I am glad to hear that, because Fynch is dying to try your bread. Actually, he is dying to taste your pizza. Did you promise to make him pizza?”

My conversations with Fynch had covered a lot of ground, but I vaguely remembered something about a sourdough crust pizza.

“Yeah, I guess I did. Speaking of which, I need to feed Sourdough Joe.” The elf lifted an eyebrow. Guess the fae didn’t know everything about me. “It’s the name of my sourdough starter. I need to feed it every morning, or it’ll go bad.”

“May I watch?”

“Sure. It’s really simple.”

I polished off my toast and a second cup of coffee before calling it quits. Adriana waited in the kitchen while I retrieved the starter from my room. No one else was about the house, though Thomas’s door was closed.

When I got back to the kitchen, I found the island counter filled with bags of white, rye, and wheat flour, salt, a small jar of active dry yeast, a measuring cup, a scale, and a thermometer. I mentally jumped for joy at the sight of the flour. I’d remembered to grab Sourdough Joe, but I’d forgotten to bring the mix of flours I used to feed him.

“Where did you get all this?” I asked.

“Even supernatural entities can use the internet, Melina.”

I cracked up at her joke. I didn’t know who this Adriana was or what she’d done with the previous one, but I was liking this side of the elf. “Well, your search skills are top-notch. These are all the best brands.”

I weighed out a small amount of Sourdough Joe and placed it in a fresh jar. I added equal parts white and rye flour, plus the proper amount of water to the jar, and stirred it all together. Adriana watched the entire process carefully.

“I can take some of the starter tonight and start prepping a couple of loaves,” I said. “We can bake them tomorrow morning.”

“What happens to the leftover starter?” she asked.

“That’s going to be the dough for the pizza,” I replied. I’d memorized that recipe long ago, and with all the ingredients Adriana had gathered, I had everything I needed. I mixed up flour, salt, yeast, water, and some of the leftover starter in a bowl. I laid a wet hand towel across the top. “There. We’ll have pizza for lunch!”

I put all the dirty dishes in the sink and started washing them.

“You can leave that,” Adriana said. “The hobs will take care of it.”

I dropped the sponge and looked around. “Hobs? You have house fae in here?” I shouldn’t have been surprised, but it hadn’t occurred to me. Adriana’s earlier comment about leaving the dirty dishes out now made sense.

“Yes. We are very fortunate to have attracted seven of them, five from the same family.”

I dried my hands and leaned on the counter. “But I’ve never seen them. How’s that possible?”

“They do not use glamour. They move faster than your eye can detect, and if you somehow manage to corner them, they can turn invisible. Also, they are nocturnal. They will do light cleaning during the day, but most of their efforts occur at night.”

I glanced uneasily around the room. “Are there any in here right now?”

“No. They prefer to keep their distance and will usually leave a room as soon as we enter. Likewise, they generally avoid rooms that are already occupied. The exceptions, of course, are our bedrooms and bathrooms. They only enter those to clean them and only when the rooms are empty. They are quite emphatic about respecting others’ privacy.”

Phew.

No midnight stalkers, then.

“What do they do?”

“Dust. Clean. Minor repairs. Decorations. Trash removal. That sort of thing.”

“I’m not a big fan of servants.”

Adriana said, “Time for another correction, it would seem. Hobs choose where they live, and their satisfaction and happiness come from their efforts. They take pride in the condition of their homes, and they will lay down their lives to protect their home if necessary.”

More reliquary edits were clearly needed. The list of things it had wrong was nearly as long as the entries that still seemed correct. I suspected I might end up chucking the entire collection and starting over.

The portions of the reliquary covering hobs said they were essentially indentured servants who had been tricked into entering a home and then trapped. The homeowners forced them to work.

“So, they can leave any time?” I asked.

“Of course. But if I were to dismiss them, they would suffer miserably until they found a new, suitable home. That does not happen quickly.”

I could deal with that, though leaving dirty dishes around would take some getting used to.

“Look, about last night,” I said. “I’m sorry for sneaking out.“

Adriana shook her head. “I am the one who owes you an apology. I have not been as sympathetic as I should have. Adam’s succession plans and his disappearance have left me unusually untethered.”

“Hey, it’s all right. I get it.”

The elf pulled her hair back over a shoulder and sighed. “It is not all right. I was following Adam’s instructions without remembering why he had chosen you in the first place. Once he learned the Unseelie had located you, he became obsessed with making you his successor. He believed you would be safest if you were Vervain’s steward. You would have incredible power at your fingertips, but more importantly, you would be surrounded by those who would protect you at all costs.”

The steward had, indeed, tried tempting me with the safety I’d long craved. All I saw were the increased risks, which was why I’d balked at his offer.

“I’m not angry with you,” I said. “And I appreciate everything you all have done for me.”

“I am glad to hear that. But as I said, I should have treated you better. When we discovered you had fled, I realized how wrongly I had acted. I have been taking when I should have been giving. Keeping you safe means nothing if you are unhappy and fearful of your surroundings. That is the opposite of what Adam wanted. If I had done a better job of things, you would not have felt the need to flee into the night. I am the one who is sorry.”

She was truly pained by her actions, that was obvious.

I said, “And I’m sorry I couldn’t trust you all sooner. I let Piter play on my paranoia, despite all the evidence to the contrary.”

Adriana’s usual smile returned. “You are here now, and that is all that matters. Thank you for coming back. More importantly, thank you for staying.”

I still had no clue where the urge came from, but I got up and hugged her. Did I feel she needed the comfort? Did I need the reassuring touch of someone who cared about me? Was it both?

I wasn’t sure it mattered, but I knew for a fact something shifted in that moment. For the first time in my life, the chains of my past beliefs strained against my desire for a world where trust replaced fear. Strained and creaked, but they held.

For now.

Chapter Twenty-Two

F ynch held up a small white plastic ball. “It’s a simple game, Melina. Just keep your eye on the ball.”

We were in the Rave Cave, and I was sitting on the sofa. Fynch hovered next to the coffee table, where he’d placed three red plastic cups. He lifted one, dramatically placed the ball under it, and began moving the cups around in a random pattern.

I kept my eyes on the cup, determined not to lose track of the ball.

“Round and round she goes, where she stops, nobody knows!” The imp picked up the tempo, and I wasn’t sure I still had the right cup any longer. With a flourish, he lined up the cups. “Now, where’s the ball?”

“The middle cup,” I said, not entirely confident of my choice.

Fynch lifted the cup. “Aw, sorry. Wanna guess again? I’ll give you one more chance, just to be a good sport about it.”

“Sure. The left one.”

Fynch lifted that cup. Also a bust. “Sorry! The ball is under the right—” The imp raised the remaining cup, which also didn’t have the ball. “Wait. What happened?”

I picked up all three cups and inspected them just to make sure the ball wasn’t stuck. I’d read that some magicians used two-sided tape or a sticky substance to make the ball cling to the cup. All three cups really were empty.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” I said. “You made the ball really disappear!”

With a grumble, the imp said, “Great. Not only did I mess up the trick, now I’ve got to get a new ball.”

“Fynch, you are hands down the best magician I’ve ever seen,” I said.

“No, I’m not! I’m terrible! No matter what I try, I always muck things up!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed, mostly out of exhaustion. The effects of Adriana’s pick-me-up spell had worn off, and my late-night work session was once again coming back to haunt me.

Fynch flew over to me. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Just tired, that’s all. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

“I can make you an energy drink. It’ll have you climbing the walls for hours.”

“Sounds great.”

The imp counted off the ingredients. “Half a cup of newt eyes, a pinch of sulfur, three ounces of shatter stone, and three cups of warm buttermilk. Sprinkle in—”

“You know what? I’m suddenly feeling a lot better.” I blinked and smiled and did my best to look super awake.

“The buttermilk’s non-dairy,” Fynch replied as he waggled his eyebrows.

“Maybe later.”

“Any time. Are you stressed? Is that why you couldn’t sleep?”

Sure, stress. We’ll go with that.

“I have a project due in a week to one of my clients, and I’ve barely started on it. If I don’t finish it on time, I’m going to lose out on a lot of money.” I gave him a rundown of the Focal user manual gig. He seemed fascinated.

“People pay you to write words. Wild! But you don’t need that job anymore, now that you’re here.”

“I do. Humans need money to survive. If I lose this job, I may end up losing my house.”

Moving in with Dad was an option, of course. Heck, I could even crash at Dee’s apartment for a while if I had to. But that meant drawing them closer to the target on my back. I’d moved out of Dad’s house for a reason.

The imp now looked confused. “Riiiiight, but you have a home here.”

The fatigue had worn down my mental sharpness, and I couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of my mouth.

“Fynch, my family and friends—my life—is back in Cold Creek. This isn’t my home, and it can never be.”

A series of pinches caused me to yelp in pain. I grimaced and rubbed at my calf.

“What happened?” the imp asked.

I sighed again, too tired to be bothered by whatever phenomenon was afflicting me. “I don’t know. Never mind.”

The flames in Fynch’s eyes dimmed. “Look, I’m still no expert on human stuff, but I know a lot about the mage community. And I know how hard Adam worked to protect Vervain and Manhattan. Once you become steward, I don’t think you can do all that from North Carolina.”

“No, I don’t think I can, either.”

The imp flew back a foot, and his eyes went wide and full of flames. “You don’t want to be steward!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down.”

“Oh, Melina, after all that’s happened, you have to take over House Vervain. The fae need you. We need you.”

“Fynch, you’re not human—you don’t understand. Besides, you don’t know what I’ve been through. Look, please don’t tell the others. At least let me break the news to them myself. Please.”

He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, not at all pleased with my request. “I promise.”

Footsteps on the stairs announced Keg’s arrival. “Thought I’d find you two down here. How goes the fading?”

“Don’t ask,” I said.

Keg didn’t. He puffed out his chest and ran a hand down his beard. “As Sentry of House Vervain, it’s my charge to keep everyone under its roof safe. Given your recent unsupervised ambulation, Melina, I’m inclined to do something unusual.”

The dwarf placed his hand on the armory door and muttered a few words. A loud metallic clunk followed. Keg twisted the large handle and pulled open the door, which turned out to be almost a foot thick.

“Whoa,” I said.

The armory reminded me of an arsenal—if the arsenal was filled with all manner of magic items instead of guns. I didn’t need to touch any of them to sense the raw power emanating from the room. Fynch and I followed the dwarf inside.

Several tables occupied the center, while racks held a random assortment of items on the wall. Some looked perfectly ordinary. A flute rested on a purple square of cloth. A pair of goggles hung from the wall. Others defied any attempt to guess at their true nature.

But the massive black metal cabinet across the room caught my attention.

“What’s in there?” I asked.

“That’s the relics cage. Mega-powerful stuff in there. The rest are artifacts. All the items here are magical, but the artifacts are off the charts.” The dwarf stopped in front of a series of drawers and pulled one open. “Here we go.”

He removed a flat gray stone about two inches wide and held it out to me. I took it, feeling the tingle of magic. Both sides had a single dark-green rune chiseled into them. I’d never learned to read runes, and they weren’t covered by the reliquary.

“What’s the rune mean?”

“Path or road, depending on the context.”

Fynch flapped his way over to me and inspected the rock. “Keg, you have a conairestone?”

The dwarf grunted. “Yeah.”

“And you’re giving it to Melina?” Another grunt. “You better hope the court doesn’t find out about that. Oberon and Aine are super protective of those.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell them, and neither of you are going to tell them, so how could they possibly find out?”

I turned the stone over a few times, hefting its weight. “What’s it do?”

Keg said, “That there’s a pathing stone, also known as a conairestone. With the right words, it will port you to wherever you want to go.”

“I thought only stewards could teleport.”

“That’s true. Pathing stones work differently. Think of your fading as teleporting and the pathing stone as invisibility. More or less the same result but different approaches.”

Fynch waved a finger at Keg. “Yeah, but the fae won’t be angry with us for teaching Melina how to fade. Oberon and Aine will be disappointed if they find out you’ve been hiding a conairestone, but they’ll be furious if they find out you’ve given it to a mortal.” The imp looked at me. “No offense.”

“None taken. What’s the big deal with the stone?” I asked.

Keg said, “There aren’t a lot left in the world, and we no longer have the knowledge to make new ones. The Seelie might be friendly towards humans, but we’re also obsessively protective about things like the conairestones. Fae think they should be preserved for historical purposes or guarded for use in extreme emergencies. Binding one to a human won’t win me any points in the Seelie Court.”

I held out the stone. “Then don’t give it to me. Enough fae have already suffered because of me.”

The dwarf stared at me for a moment. “Huh. I see why Adam chose you.” Before I could react, he closed my fingers over the stone and cast a short spell. The stone jumped once, and I nearly dropped it.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Bound it to you. You’re the only one who can use it now. To activate it, just say, ‘Take me home, path of stone.’ Whoever is holding the stone gets transported back to House Vervain.”

With a frown, I said, “I told you not to do that.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, you’re not the steward yet. You can reprimand me when you are.”

Fynch shook his head. “I still don’t like it, Keg. You’re asking for trouble.”

“I’m doing my job,” the dwarf replied. “If Oberon or Aine have a problem with that, then I’ll deal with it.”

I pocketed the stone. “Thank you, Keg. I appreciate it.”

He waggled a finger in front of me. “Just don’t go making me regret it, okay? This stays between you, me, and the imp. If Adriana or Thomas find out, they’ll make you hand it over to the Seelie Court.”

“I promise.”

The gesture was touching, especially as Keg was putting his neck on the line for me. And the gift was all the more surprising, given he’d barely shared more than a few words with me. Talk about the stereotypical gruff old guy with a heart the size of the world.

I’d keep his gift hidden, and I was sure Fynch would, too.

Then one of Mom’s sayings came back to me: A secret is just a lie you don’t want to tell. The trouble is, all lies want to be told, and you can take that to the bank.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I  practiced my fading, this time with Keg in the room. Activating the ability really was more challenging when someone was watching you. I had them turn around while I repeated the mantra, and when I was ready, I told them to turn back around.

Sometimes I moved a few feet to one side, just to give me a little advantage.

Surprisingly, Keg agreed with Fynch that I was getting better. I’d worried the imp was telling me what I wanted to hear, but hearing the dwarf confirm I was making progress felt a lot more reassuring.

Better yet, I made it almost two hours before the vertigo set in again. Maybe I really was getting the hang of it.

“Taking a break, boys,” I said. “Back in a bit.”

“We’ll be here!” Fynch replied. The clink of bottles followed me upstairs. Guess they were enjoying a mid-day ale.

Thomas’s door was still closed, and the kitchen was empty. I checked on Sourdough Joe, who was bubbling along nicely. The pizza dough had doubled in size. I gently prodded it. The dough sprang back quickly.

Noice.

Whoever had outfitted the kitchen hadn’t spared any costs. The ovens were gas, and I preheated them while I rummaged through the drawers. The kitchen was stocked with everything a baker or chef could hope for, including the tools you probably only needed a handful of times a year. A part of me would miss the kitchen, even though I hadn’t technically made a single thing in it yet.

My searching yielded a couple of pizza stones, and the pantry possessed an unopened bag of cornmeal and a pizza paddle. I whistled and spun the paddle, happy to be cooking again.

I split the dough in two and sprinkled cornmeal on the counter. The dough felt good as I stretched it and worked it into larger and larger disks. After a while, you learned to judge dough by its appearance but equally by its feel and, to a lesser degree, its aroma.

Sourdough Joe’s discard was looking, feeling, and smelling amazing.

The cornmeal and paddle made quick work of transferring the two pizza doughs to the cooking stones. Next up were the toppings.

Someone had bought two jars of pizza sauce and three bags of mozzarella cheese. The fridge also had a package of pepperoni and bacon. I decided to do something a little different with the bacon. Rather than cook the strips on a parchment-covered tray in the oven, I preheated a small pan while I diced the bacon. Perfect for topping the pizzas.

A ladle of sauce, dozens of pepperoni slices, a handful of bacon, and then a bag of cheese topped off one pizza. I made the other a plain cheese pizza.

Fynch was going to do two loops after tasting these. Maybe three.

I put the pizzas in the oven and set a timer. Out of habit, I began washing everything before I remembered the hobs.

“I’ll just, um, I’ll leave this for you,” I said, unsure if any hobs could hear me.

Thomas’s voice boomed through the room. “What is going on here?”

I wasn’t easily startled, but I swear I nearly jumped out of my shoes. I spun to find the consigliere staring at me from the doorway.

“Thomas, you scared me half to death.”

“I asked what you’re doing in here.” He looked angry.

“Baking pizzas for Fynch. And you. Well, whoever wants them.”

Thomas stepped into the room, and I thought he was going to start screaming again. He looked deeply troubled.

“Who gave you permission?”

Permission? To cook? Was I supposed to ask permission to use the kitchen? Wait. Adriana had specifically asked me to. What was this guy’s problem?

“Adriana.”

Thomas’s mouth went thin at that, and his voice dialed down a few decibels. “Oh.”

“Is everything okay?”

He sighed and slowly scanned the kitchen before answering. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here. To be cooking, I mean.”

“You want me to stop?”

He walked into the room, shook his head, and leaned against the island. His voice came out softer and far, far more exhausted than my own.

“No, it’s fine. Just took me by surprise.” He looked up, and the anger was gone from his face, replaced by embarrassment. “I’m sorry for my outburst.”

I stepped closer, guessing what the source of his pain was. “It’s Adam, isn’t it? Any word?”

He shook his head. “No. And no word from the Unseelie.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” I said, even though I had no reason to be so confident.

Thomas’s eyes slid over to the ovens. “This was Adam’s sanctuary. He was happiest when he was cooking. He loved serving others and seeing the joy his food brought to the world.”

What was it Adriana had said? The kitchen is the heart of every home. No wonder Thomas had lost it. I was tromping all over Adam’s sacred space.

“I’m sorry. I promised Fynch I’d make pizzas for him, and when Adriana asked me about it this morning, I just assumed it was okay.”

“It’s okay. It should be okay. I just—” His voice trailed off, and he wiped a hand across his face. “I didn’t know how painful this would be. I knew it was coming, we all did, but I had no idea . . .”

I came around the island and stood next to him. “Hold up. You knew Adam was going to die?”

Thomas ran a finger across the marble surface, traced a jagged vein across the top. “Not at the hands of the Unseelie but yes. Adam’s been ill for months. I don’t know how he hung on as long as he did. I guess at some point I convinced myself he really wouldn’t succumb. That he’d recover or find some miracle cure.” He looked up at me. “I think it’s why I resisted his efforts to install a successor.”

“You couldn’t deny his condition anymore if you helped replace him,” I said.

He nodded. “Something like that. And then, after everything that’s happened, I walked in here expecting to find Adam, cooking up a storm like he’d never left. Instead, it was you.” He turned in a slow circle, and his voice faltered. “I watched him make so many meals in here. No matter what was going on in the world outside these walls, this room always brought us peace. This room, more than any other, was our haven.”

My heart heaved at the realization of just how close the two men were.

“Oh my stars, Thomas, I had no idea. I mean, I thought you were just good friends.”

He smiled at that. “We were. It started as a friendship, but then”—a wave of his hand—“it grew into something more. Much more.”

“I can’t begin to understand what you’re going through.”

Thomas’s face wrinkled as his smile turned sad. “Can’t you? We’ve both lost people we care about, haven’t we?”

My throat knotted up, and my eyes stung. “I suppose so.” My brain connected a few more dots, and I felt another wave of anguish. “Wait a minute. You and Adam. Were you living in his quarters?”

The consigliere nodded. “But not for the past few months. Adam became reclusive and obsessed with his legacy. He was determined to have his successor take over as quickly as possible, so we moved into a room on the second floor. My old room, from when I first joined House Vervain. Not that he spent much time there. He barely sleeps anymore.”

“What was he working so hard on? Besides finding a successor?”

“He believed there was a way to use the Manhattan nexus to allow the trapped fae the option of returning to their world. He and Wren have been working on it for years, but as Adam’s time began running out, he devoted more and more time to it. He was turning his back on those who loved him and hollowing out his space in this house. We fought about it a few times, but he always won in the end. He could be charming like that.”

I could see that based on even the limited interaction I’d had with him. “You should be living in the steward’s quarters. I should be in the guest room.”

“I appreciate that, Melina, but the steward’s quarters hold nothing but painful memories for me. The unfamiliarity of the guest room has given me a modicum of peace. If I stayed in the upstairs quarters, I’d be constantly confronted with things I’d rather not be, if you catch my meaning.”

“I do.” I felt a little better about taking over the quarters, but not much.

Thomas looked up at the pots and pans above us. “Adam was meticulous about this kitchen. He gutted it and designed it from scratch. He picked every dish, tray, pan, and appliance. It was his dream kitchen.”

“It’s beautiful. He has exquisite taste.”

“Yes, he does. He picked you as his successor.”

I looked away in embarrassment and returned the compliment. “I don’t know about that, but he definitely selected a top-notch consigliere.”

A silence welled up in the kitchen, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable kind. We were both temporarily lost in our thoughts, boats on turbulent waters, navigating the waves as best we could and hoping for calmer times. When Thomas spoke again, there was a renewed life in his voice.

“I fear I’ve done a poor job since Adam’s disappearance, but at least I’ve managed to keep you safe.”

“The Vervain fae are keeping a close eye on me.” My hand slipped into my pocket and closed around the pathing stone. “They won’t let anything bad happen to me.”

“I’m quite sure, but that’s not what worries me. I wasn’t prepared to have to carry on without Adam this soon or this abruptly. I need to be stepping up and taking charge, yet I feel infinitely less qualified to do so than ever before. The weight of the house and all the fae who rely on it sits heavily on my shoulders.”

That was something I could relate to, as well. Hiding from the fae didn’t just mean living in a dead zone. It also meant distancing myself from those I loved and cared about. My self-imposed responsibility was also the cause for my self-exile in a way.

I hadn’t really given much thought to Adriana or Thomas’s plight, outside of the possible loss of Adam. Wren had indicated the stakes were higher than I knew, and Thomas must be stressing hard-core. Despite her calm demeanor, Adriana had to be worried sick, too.

“I think we have more in common than we realize,” I said.

“I think you’re right.” Thomas glanced at the oven. “So, pizzas for lunch, is it?”

“Maybe not Paola’s Pizza Joint level, but yeah.”

Thomas leaned towards me and whispered, “Just between us, I don’t much care for Paola’s.”

My laugh was interrupted by the sound of the front door banging open and a familiar voice calling out, “Unseelie!”

Chapter Twenty-Four

G limmer collapsed in Thomas’s arms, her glamoured illusion vanishing as she did. The consigliere cradled the shrinking sprite and screamed for Adriana as he kicked the front door closed. Within seconds, the three Vervain fae had gathered in the hallway.

The sprite’s left wing was bent, and she groaned in pain.

“Techgnome Bros,” she whispered.

Adriana gently examined the sprite and said, “The grove. Now.” She headed down the hallway towards the mysterious doors. Over her shoulder, she said, “Keg, secure the house. Fynch, inform Wren of what’s happened. Melina, come with us, please.”

Thomas and I followed her. Adriana flung open the double doors and stepped through.

No room of ritual sacrifices. No multi-mouthed, nightmarish monster waiting to eat me. Not even a prison cell.

Instead, we entered a small clearing surrounded by a massive forest. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy overhead, and a thick carpet of grass covered the ground. A stream bubbled along one edge of the clearing. The air carried the scent of summer.

Definitely not Manhattan.

“Give her to me,” Adriana said.

Thomas gently transferred the sprite. “What can I do?”

“See to the house in case the Unseelie or Renard decide to make an assault. The attack on Glimmer might have been a distraction.”

Thomas unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Pencil-thin green runes covered his forearms.

“You’re a mage?” I said.

He grinned. “Did you think I was just a stuffed suit?” Before I could respond, he dashed off and closed the doors behind him.

Kinda.

Adriana walked to the stream and waded into it without hesitation. She lowered Glimmer into the water until just the sprite’s head remained above the surface. The creases of pain on Glimmer’s face eased.

“Will she be all right?” I asked.

“Yes. She will not enjoy the next few days, but she will recover.”

“Who are the Techgnome Bros?”

“A group of nasty gnomes who deal in crypto during the day and mayhem at night. They must be testing the boundaries of Manhattan. With Adam gone and no steward able to use the nexus, the Unseelie are reminding us of their presence.”

“Can’t Wren protect the island?”

The elf shook her head. “Her powers end at the borders of the park. Inside, she’s all but invulnerable. Just a few feet outside the park, however, and she is no more resilient against the Unseelie than a mere mortal. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“There. That should be enough for now.” Adriana stepped out of the stream and placed Glimmer on the grass, careful not to let her wings get twisted. The bent one was already straightened. “She will sleep now while her body recovers. There is nothing more for us to do.”

Adriana waved her hands over her dress, which dried almost instantly. She repeated the process on Glimmer. The elf walked to the doors.

“Wait, will she be okay here?” I asked as I looked around. “I mean, what is this place?”

“The grove overlaps with the fae world. We are technically standing in both House Vervain and my home world right now. The first Vervain steward thought to use it as a way to move between our worlds, but it did not quite work the way she imagined. It is a one-way portal. Step beyond the grove too far, and you will be fully in the fae world. However, you cannot return here the same way.”

I made a mental note not to wander too far from the double doors, underlined the note, circled it, and drew stars around it.

“That’s why the Unseelie aren’t attacking from the fae side of the grove.”

“Precisely. It is also why these doors are normally locked and this space off limits. Far too easy to get lost in here.”

I looked over at the stream. “Magic healing waters?”

Adriana nodded. “Among other things. I could have eventually healed Glimmer the old-fashioned way, but the stream is far faster and more effective.” She stepped up to the doorway and called out, “Pinter, would you mind watching over Glimmer while I prepare a salve?”

A hob materialized in front of the elf. Aside from his pointed ears and diminutive height, the two-foot-tall fae looked exactly like an old man. Frazzled gray hair poked out from under his brown cap. He wore a long coat and had a large satchel slung across his shoulder. His purple eyes looked up at Adriana.

“Yes, Lady Adriana. My pleasure.” Pinter gave me a nod but averted his eyes. He seemed uncomfortable with my presence.

“I’m Melina Morgan,” I said, and extended my hand.

The hob shook one of my fingers.

“No need for introductions, Ms. Morgan.” Pinter removed his cap and wrung it in his hands.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh. Yes. Lady Adriana is quite the healer,” Pinter said, still awkwardly avoiding my eyes. “I’m sure the sprite will be up and about in no time.”

“Still, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” I replied. “The mages should be protecting the Seelie fae and not hunting them. It’s worse that fae are attacking each other.”

“Mmm.”

Pinter stared into the hallways and shifted his weight. Silence built up until I felt the need to end it.

“I hate being helpless in situations like this.”

Pinter’s awkwardness evaporated. He straightened his back, looked up, and pinned me with an expression I couldn’t quite make out. Sympathy? A hint of accusation? Confusion?

“Pardon me for having to point out the obvious, Ms. Morgan, but there is.”

“What? I can’t cast magic, fade, or fight. All I seem to be good at is hiding, and I’m not even doing a great job of that lately. I’m trapped here in this house.”

“If I may, and I mean no offense, but you only view it as a trap because you’re too afraid to see it for what it could be.”

“Which is?”

“A home. And if you were to press me to say more, I’d reply your home. If you’re smart enough to save it.”

Pinter’s words followed me down the hall. I heard Adriana in the kitchen and decided to try fading. If I could fool her, I’d know I’d made progress.

My outline is beginning to disappear . . .

When I felt I was as faded as I would get, I tiptoed into the kitchen. Adriana was working on her salve. Ingredients were all over the counter, and the process reminded me a lot of cooking.

She was facing the door, but she hadn’t seemed to notice me yet. I got within ten feet before she looked up.

“Oh. I did not see you there, Melina. Were you fading?” I nodded. “You’re getting better.”

“Fynch is a great teacher.”

“And you’re a fast learner.”

I scanned the counter. “May I help?”

“See if you can find a jar of sawgrass in that cabinet, please.”

I handed it to her. The elf was mixing up a sticky solution in a bowl. On the counter were two thin gauze pads and a roll of medical tape. Adriana stirred in a spoonful of sawgrass and then layered one side of the pads with the mixture.

“These poultices should accelerate the wing’s healing. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” I checked the pizzas. The timer said they still needed two minutes.

The attack on Glimmer was a wake-up call for me. I’d been assaulted by boggarts, a farrow, and dearg in the last week. I’d survived, of course, but I’d lived my entire life knowing that an attack on me was always possible.

Seeing Glimmer’s mangled body and knowing the Unseelie were behind it was completely different. The theoretical was suddenly concrete, and the true victims in the coming storm were obvious: all the innocent fae trapped in the mortal realm.

The timer went off, and I removed the pizzas. They looked perfect and smelled amazing, but any joy from eating them had been dampened by Glimmer’s condition.

“Smells like the pizzas are ready,” Adriana said as she returned.

“They are, but they need to cool.”

“Of course.”

I helped Adriana set out plates and utensils.

“You were really impressive with Glimmer,” I said. “I thought Thomas was running the house, but it’s clearly you.”

“The traditions around mage succession vary considerably from house to house. A consigliere might be named steward as easily as a claviger or even someone not directly attached to the house. Thomas has additional challenges he’s facing with Adam’s departure, so I do what I can.”

Her discretion about the men’s relationship made me respect her even more.

“I know about them. Thomas more or less told me.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “He did? I am glad to hear that. He keeps too much to himself these days.”

“Well, he’s lucky to have you taking charge. You knew exactly what to say and what to do. You’re a natural leader. If it were me, I’d have been completely lost.”

The elf pursed her lips.

“I know you mean well, Melina, but given time and the proper guidance, you would have led equally well. As for being a natural leader, regardless of my abilities, I have no desire to be steward. In fact, I have turned down the opportunity. But I will not stand idle while this house and those under its protection are in danger.”

The implication of her words, delicately delivered as they were, hit like a pallet of bricks. I didn’t believe she’d meant to be cruel, but the implied message I heard was clear: Vervain remained a broken house until it had a steward.

All fine and well, but even if Thomas sorted out the ritual and I agreed to be steward, what then? I just learned about the grove a few minutes ago. Until Glimmer’s attack, I didn’t know the Techgnome Bros existed. How in the world could I be expected to tackle the challenges ahead when I was still trying to get a handle on this new world I’d fallen into?

The same way you eat a large pizza: one bite at a time.

Fair point.

Technical writing took me years to learn. And my bread baking was pretty underwhelming at the beginning, too. Why should this be any different? Sure, the stakes were a lot higher. I wasn’t likely to die from a writing project any more than I was from baking a few loaves of bread. But I was smart. Adriana called me a fast learner. Would that be enough?

“I hear you,” I replied. “I really do.”

“Then you also heard my gratitude for allowing me to get to know you better, Melina. I do not care for the circumstances that brought you into the Vervain family, but I am thrilled you are here.”

“Excuse me,” Thomas said from the door. “If you have a minute, I have some good news to share.”

“I could really use some good news right about now,” I replied. “But let’s find Fynch and Keg. Lunch is ready.”

The dwarf’s head popped into the doorway. “Did someone say lunch?”

“Melina has made sourdough crust pizzas,” Adriana replied. “Is Fynch back yet?”

“Here!” The imp flapped into the kitchen and moaned in delight. “Wow, smells amazing!”

I sliced the pizzas, and Thomas prepared drinks.

“Before we eat,” Adriana said, “I want updates from everyone.”

“The house is secure,” Keg said. “Thomas and I checked the wards. No indication of a breach or even an attempt.”

Fynch said, “I notified Wren about Glimmer and made a check of the surrounding areas. Zilch Unseelie.”

“Excellent,” Adriana said. “In that case, sit, eat, and be at ease.”

We gathered our plates and sat around the kitchen table to hear Thomas’s announcement.

“Katia Correia has agreed to a meeting at three o’clock today at her house in Brazil. She’s kindly offered to take care of the portal, as Melina is not yet a steward.”

“That is definitely good news,” Adriana said. “And encouraging.”

Fynch swallowed a bit of pizza and made an aerial loop. “Melina, this tastes amazing! It’s even better than Paola’s!”

High praise, indeed. The others went back for seconds and then thirds and then both pizza stones were empty.

Keg finished off his tankard of ale and banged it down on the table. “I propose we have Melina’s pizza every week.”

“Tots!” Fynch said. “We’ll call it ’Zaturday. Get it?”

Keg frowned and shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s pronounced pizz-UH.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right.” Fynch snapped his fingers. “How about Pieday? We have pizza every Friday for dinner?”

The dwarf scratched at his beard while he considered it. “I’m good with that.”

Adriana and Thomas nodded in agreement.

“Sure,” I said. “No problem. Pieday is now officially a thing in House Vervain.”

“With that bit of housekeeping concluded,” Thomas said, “I have some research to continue, and I could use Fynch’s help.”

The imp saluted. “Sir, yes, sir!”

Adriana got to her feet. “And I’d like to check on Glimmer.”

I looked at Keg. “What do you say? Feel like watching me try to fade?”

He patted his stomach. “After that meal, it would be my pleasure.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

A n hour later, Keg clapped his hands.

“You completely disappeared there for a second, Melina! That’s great!”

I flopped onto the sofa. Fading was coming easier in one sense. I could start the process much faster than before. Unfortunately, getting to the point where I was fully faded felt like teaching a dog to walk on two legs. Progress was painfully slow, and no one involved enjoyed the process.

“Great would be fully disappearing. Great would mean being able to stay fully faded as long as I want. This is not great.”

“Bah.” Keg tipped one of his ale bottles up and took a long drink. “You shouldn’t be so tough on yourself. Sure you don’t want a bottle?”

“Somehow, I think that would be super counterproductive. Maybe we save it for a celebratory toast when I can fully fade?”

“Then you better be thirsty, because I think that’s right around the corner.” He grinned and winked at me.

“How long have you been making ale?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s got to be over a hundred years now.”

“What drew you to it?”

Keg looked down at his bottle, and his face went solemn. “My family’s been brewing ale forever. The Grimlocks are widely regarded as some of the best ale brewers.”

“I’m not surprised about that. But why did you decide to pursue it?”

The dwarf pulled at the label on the bottle. “It’s an honor to carry on the tradition. I proudly uphold my family’s legacy.”

He was obviously avoiding my question.

“Well, you’re doing an amazing job. I’m not really a big fan of beer, but I could drink that ale all night long.”

That tugged a smile across his face. “You’re kind to say so, Melina.”

“And you’re equally talented at painting.”

The smile vanished, and a darker expression covered Keg’s face. He cleared his throat and stood. “I don’t, uh, I don’t know what you mean.”

The dwarf turned his back on me and walked to the distillery machine or whatever it was. He fiddled absently with some tubes and checked a couple of gauges.

“Fynch mentioned it at lunch, remember? He said you painted and played guitar.”

“Trivial distractions. Nothing to be proud of.” The dwarf became more agitated.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” I said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I just don’t like talking about it, is all.”

“My intention wasn’t to pry. Please forget I asked.”

I started fading again, regretting how uncomfortable I’d made the dwarf.

A minute later, Keg said, “I never liked it, you know.” He still had his back to me.

I dropped my fading efforts. “Not even a little bit?”

He shrugged. “Maybe at first. But I think I confused my father’s approval with my own happiness. I took satisfaction in his pride over my accomplishments, not in the process of making ale. It’s boring and monotonous. I hate it so much, I get ulcers every time I start a new batch.”

Yikes.

My relationship with Dad had always been good, and unlike Keg’s father, Dad was in no position to judge any of my abilities except maybe baking. Even then, he barely cooked himself, so all he knew was that he loved my bread and cookies.

Mom died when I was just a kid, and Dad has zero magic ability, which meant I didn’t have anything like a mentor parent who could critique my talents.

“Why keeping doing it?” I asked. “If it’s so painful, why not give it up?”

Keg placed his hands on the distillery. “My family would disown me if I stopped. I’m the last Grimlock, the sole ale maker in my lineage. I can’t walk away from it.”

Family pressure was apparently a universal thing. The most pressure Dad had put on me was to get good grades in high school so I’d have better choices for college. But Dee’s folks could be demanding. One time, they grounded her because she got a C in English, even though everyone knew her teacher never gave out As and rarely gave out Bs. It was a total crock.

But even the Ashfords would be the first to tell you all they wanted was for Dee to be happy. They didn’t ground her just to be mean. They cared about her and thought the grounding would motivate Dee to get better grades.

“Do you really think they’d walk away from you? Even though they know how miserable it makes you?”

The dwarf snorted. “They think I love making ale.”

“Why in the world would they think that?”

“Because that’s what I told them.”

“Oh. I see.” Except I really didn’t. How blind could his parents be if they truly thought he was happy? I’d tried to fake it lots of times, and Dad usually figured it out. “I guess I don’t understand the dwarven culture all that well.”

“We’re not terribly complicated in most regards.”

“Except maybe when it comes to being honest with each other.”

Oh, no, did I really just say that out loud?

“I’m sorry, Keg, that was so rude. Please forgive me.”

Instead of being angry, the dwarf laughed. Actually, he laughed manically, doubling over and holding his sides. I worried I might have broken his brain.

The laughter finally subsided, and Keg dried his eyes on his sleeves. “You know, I haven’t spent a lot of time around mortals, but you are a delight, Melina Morgan. I can see why Nod likes you so much.”

“You know him?”

“’Course I do. He’s a good one, that Noddy.”

My turn to laugh. “Noddy? Really?”

“His nickname from when he was younger. But don’t you go getting any ideas about using that name in front of him, okay? He’s sensitive about it.”

“Thanks for the warning. Look, I’m sorry about your parents and the ale tradition. But maybe they’ll support your painting one day. They have to know how talented you are.”

“They have no idea I paint or play guitar, and they can never know. That would be worse than me walking away from the family business.”

I really didn’t know anything about dwarven culture, but that sounded crazy. And I said as much to Keg.

He pointed to the three pieces of silver woven into his beard.

“You see these? An axe, a mug, and a shield. These are the only honorable pursuits a male Grimlock can choose from. Fighting and drinking. That’s it. Everything else is off limits. I’m not talking frowned on or discouraged. I’m talking forbidden.”

“Well, that’s just silly and shortsighted. If you love painting, you should be able to paint. If you love building log cabins, you should be able to do that, too. And if you’re a parent who doesn’t want their child to be happy, well, you’re a silly and shortsighted parent.”

The dwarf’s hands slowly closed into fists, and the muscles on his forearms went tight.

Oh, Melina, you’ve really gone and done it now. You’ll be lucky to leave this basement alive.

Keg’s eyes narrowed, and he closed the distance between us with two large steps. Even though I topped out a foot taller than him, he outmatched me in sheer intensity. I nearly stumbled backwards.

He pointed a finger at my chest. “You’re the first person who ever had the courage to tell me that to my face.”

The next thing I knew, he had me in the gentlest of bear hugs. My arms were pinned to my sides, and the best I could manage to hug him in return was to tap his arms with my hands.

“If only I had the courage to tell my da and ma!” Keg cried out. “You get me, Melina Morgan, you really get me.”

A minute went by. Or maybe five. I couldn’t tell, but eventually, Keg released me and stepped back. His eyes were wet, but no tears tracked down his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said. “I really needed to hear that.”

“Of course,” I replied. “I’m glad you weren’t offended.”

“Everyone else here dances around the issue. I know they love me, and I know they want me to be happy. But none of them laid it out like you did. That takes guts, and I appreciate it.”

“Does that mean you’ll play a song for me?”

The finger came back up. “Don’t. Push it.” But his wink let me know it wasn’t completely off the table.

“Well, I’d love to see you share your passions with the world. We could use more brightness in our lives.”

“Indeed we can.” He grunted and glanced at the guitars. “You know the tricky thing about legacies? They’re impossible to live up to and frustratingly impossible to ignore.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

A  portal identical to the one Adam had opened at my house now appeared in the steward’s office. Beyond it was a room that looked much like Adam’s: books, a desk, some furniture. But that office across the portal was all modern, with lots of glass and metal. A tall woman smiled at us.

Katia Correia.

She looked to be in her fifties and had dark-brown hair and light-brown eyes. Her wavy hair was loose and fell to her shoulders in that intentionally tousled, just rolled out of bed but still runway stunning look some people could pull off. The steward wore a white linen shirt and dark pants and had a generous figure.

I looked at Thomas, who stood next to me. He nodded, and we stepped through the portal. It closed behind us.

“Greetings, Melina,” the steward said as she leaned in and kissed my right cheek. Her smile was charming but not at all creepy like Piter’s. “It’s my very great pleasure to meet you.”

I added a point in her Good column. The lilt of her voice didn’t hurt, either. I’d never heard Portuguese before, and her accent was pleasant to listen to.

“Likewise,” I said.

Katia turned to Thomas, her face slipping into a solemn expression. She kissed him three times on his cheeks.

“My friend, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“We have no confirmation about Adam yet, but thank you.”

Katia walked to a seating area in the office and gestured for us to sit. I took the sofa, and Thomas took one of the two chairs. The office was impressive, with cathedral ceilings and a wall that was almost entirely glass. The massive window framed an unfamiliar cityscape.

Not surprising, given House Coriander was located in São Paulo, Brazil.

“Please, make yourselves at home. May I offer you a refreshment? I’m having an espresso.”

Make that two points in her Good column.

“No, thank you,” Thomas replied.

“I’d love a black coffee, but I’ll be happy with whatever’s easiest.”

“Please, you are my guest. Your comfort is my priority, not the ease of your request.” She crossed the room and opened the office door, exchanged a brief comment with someone outside. As she sat down in one of the chairs, she asked, “How are things in Manhattan?”

Thomas crossed a leg and sighed. “More or less status quo for the moment. We had an Unseelie attack earlier today on the island. Techgnome Bros.”

Katia made a sour face. “I’m familiar with them. Injuries?”

“One of Wren’s sprites was hurt, but she’s recovering at House Vervain.”

“No doubt under the care of the extremely talented Lady Adriana.”

Lady Adriana.

The house hob, Pinter, had used the honorific title, too. I filed that away.

“I understand the Council has given you until Wednesday to confirm Adam’s still alive or to seal a new steward. An unfortunate situation, but it has put Renard on hold for the time being. The Unseelie won’t be similarly restrained. You should expect more attacks.”

“What do you know?” I asked.

Her look wasn’t exactly icy, but I felt a chill, nonetheless. “That you are not a steward, and I have graciously invited you here out of respect for my friend and fellow mage.”

I erased one point from the Good column and moved it to the Jerk column.

“Katia, I understand this is highly unusual,” Thomas said. “I appreciate your generosity and understanding. Please bear in mind Melina has been through quite a lot lately, and she’s new to the mage community.”

The steward lowered her head a fraction. “I did not intend to be rude, but I must make my position clear, especially now. The council is on the verge of wiping out one of its own houses. The Unseelie are more active than ever before. These are dangerous times, my friends. We all must tread carefully.”

“Which is why I’m most grateful for your willingness to host us,” Thomas replied. “I’m sure several other stewards will not be happy to learn of this meeting.”

I never dabbled in politics or gave the matter much thought. Dee ran for class president in high school twice and won both times. Me, I just wanted to keep my head down and stay off the radar as much as possible.

That said, even I could see the political landscape taking shape in the conversation.

Katia was risking blowback simply for hosting us at her home. Some of the stewards would use this meeting against House Coriander if they could. Thomas hadn’t shared the particulars with me, and I’d presumed the meeting was harmless.

“These are delicate times,” I said as I stood. “And I regret that our presence risks the safety of your house and its members. Thomas, we should leave. Every minute we stay, we’re putting Katia and her house in greater danger.”

The consigliere looked confused but slowly got to his feet. “I’m not quite sure—”

“Please,” Katia said. “Sit, my friends. We haven’t even shared a coffee yet. Please.”

“If you insist,” I replied. Thomas and I sat down.

My gut said I’d bought us more time. I had the feeling Katia wanted to help, but she also was testing us. And by us, I meant me. Presumably, I passed, because she asked us to stay.

The steward laced her fingers together. “Here is what I can tell you. Renard has been working with the Unseelie for some time. Some of the Council stewards are aware of his treachery, but they overlook it given his ultimate goal. Renard’s playing a dangerous game with his allies. I fear he’s put the Council and humanity at risk with his blind ambition.”

“Do you think he can pull it off?” I asked, wanting to know just how much of a lost cause Katia viewed House Vervain as.

“I see no reason why he won’t eventually gain control of the nexus.”

That was about as lost as you could get.

“We can’t sit back and let that happen,” I replied. “Thomas said there are other stewards sympathetic to Vervain. If we can rally them to our cause—”

“Our cause?” Katia asked, her eyebrows lifting.

The message wasn’t hard to decipher. She was reminding me of my non-fae and non-mage status. I didn’t let it throw me.

“Yes, our cause. Mine. Yours. Humanity’s. The fae’s. The mage community. We’re all in this together, and letting Piter access the nexus is tantamount to handing him the planet. Unless, of course, you view that as a good thing.”

“Hmm. You speak confidently about things beyond your depth. That kind of ill-informed arrogance is usually fatal.”

A knock on the door preceded the entrance of a man carrying a tray. He delivered the coffees and retreated from the room. Katia added three heaping spoons of sugar to her espresso and stirred the drink.

“May your lives be long and healthy.” Katia lifted her cup and saluted me and Thomas.

I returned the gesture. The coffee was insanely good.

“Delicious. Thank you.”

The steward nodded and smiled before continuing.

“Here is what you do not understand, Melina. Renard’s hand has not been stayed by the Council or by Wren. He is hoping you will deliver the Vervain seal to him and save him much trouble. He’s hoarding his assets for a much larger prize. Once the deadline has passed, the Council will vote to dissolve House Vervain and turn it over to Renard. With that beachhead secured, Renard will unleash the entire mage community and the Unseelie on Central Park. Wren and her sprites and the rest of the fae in Manhattan will valiantly fight but ultimately fall. The more assets Renard can bring to that battle, the sooner he’ll secure his prize.”

“That doesn’t sound like a plan to stop him,” I said. “Sounds more like the words of someone who’s already given up.”

Katia sighed. “My point is this: the moment Renard believes you will not turn over the ring, he’ll move against House Vervain, regardless of the deadline. If you wish to keep him at bay, you must make him believe there’s still a chance you’ll give him what he wants. As for your accusation, I have not, as you put it, given up. I’m simply riding the river of the most likely outcomes. Given the current state, Renard will mostly likely take the nexus. Standing in his way is suicide.”

I sipped my coffee, marveling at how it could be so strong without having a hint of bitterness.

Focus, Melina!

Right, right.

“Do you think Renard will stop with the fae?” I asked. “He told me he’s going to get rid of the fae and permanently seal off the two worlds. Do you really expect him to simply sit back after that and let the Council continue to run things? With the Council under his thumb and the nexus in his control, Renard will be unstoppable. I don’t see him as the power-sharing kind of guy.”

“It may surprise you to learn I don’t disagree,” Katia said.

“Then why in the world are you and the other stewards willing to sit by while he marches towards world domination? Don’t you care about the lives he’ll destroy? Aren’t you worried he’ll come for you next?”

Katia looked at Thomas. “My friend, would you mind giving us a few minutes?”

“Of course.” The consigliere didn’t hesitate, which gave me some relief. If he felt comfortable leaving me alone with Katia, I wasn’t in danger. I was, however, more than a tad nervous about why Katia wanted privacy.

After Thomas had stepped out of the office, Katia walked to the window and stared down at the city, her hands casually placed in her pockets.

“As one steward to perhaps a future steward, I’ll be completely candid with you. I’m not going to risk my house by standing up to Renard.”

I joined her at the window. The skyscrapers obscured the afternoon sun, which cast rays of orange light.

“Don’t you care about the fae trapped in our world? Renard will hunt them down and kill them unless you do something.”

“That would be tragic.”

“But not tragic enough to try to stop Renard?”

“No more tragic than needlessly sacrificing myself and all those I’ve pledged to protect under the name of House Coriander. Let me put this a different way. The world is experiencing more than its share of chaos. It needs stability. Going up against Renard would be the opposite of stability.”

”Stability is rarely secured without pain and chaos,” I countered.

Katia held up a finger. “Pain is not the concern. I will gladly risk my life to keep mortals and fae safe, but I won’t risk my house on a lost cause.”

“How do you know it’s useless to fight?”

“Because you have brought me a cause without a champion. Your cause needs a champion, and, to be honest, you are no champion.”

That felt insulting on so many levels.

“I’ve successfully hidden from the Unseelie for almost four decades. I’ve faced down a pack of boggarts, and I’ve single-handedly killed a farrow. I’ve survived two encounters with a pair of dearg, and I’m here in Manhattan trying to save the fae. Meanwhile, you’re living it up down here and ignoring the dangers because you’re too scared to do anything.”

I hadn’t meant to be so antagonistic, but her accusation hurt me far more than I cared to admit. If she was offended, she didn’t show it.

She grinned. “I don’t wish to be cruel, but I see a slightly different version. You lived a life of fear for almost four decades that kept you conveniently off the battlefield. Your life was saved by a dwarf, then a steward, and most recently by Wren. You’re here in Manhattan because you sought safety, not a fight. I don’t judge you for your choices, mind you. You have faced many hurdles. However, that does not make you a champion.”

I gritted my teeth at her assessment. She’d called me out. She’d seen right through me. I’d have to live with that. But I wasn’t the same Melina Morgan who had stumbled through a portal yesterday. Your destiny could change in a heartbeat, and it had been over twenty-four hours since I’d arrived in Manhattan.

“Fine. Don’t do it for me. Do it for all the innocent victims who will soon suffer. Or do it for Adam, because this is what he’d want.”

Katia touched my arm and gave it a squeeze. “Melina, forgive me, but you still don’t understand. I respect Adam a great deal, and I applauded his efforts to shield the fae against the Council. I consider him a true friend and an honorable man, and my life is richer for knowing him. But I remained neutral about the fae then for the same reason I remain neutral now.”

I frowned and looked down at the streets. I was failing to persuade Katia, and without her support, I didn’t see a way to stop Renard.

Or perhaps Katia was right, and I was the one refusing to see reality. Was House Vervain’s fate already written? Were the fae already doomed? Katia seemed to be content watching the clock run out because she didn’t see a scenario where victory was possible.

And Thomas had pegged the steward’s unpredictability, all right. Despite the friendly charm and hospitality, Katia’s mind was made up before she’d even opened the portal. Doubly so, now.

Then why did she agree to meet with you? Why waste her time? And what did she mean about remaining neutral?

“Wait a second,” I said. “You never supported Adam’s effort to shield the fae. Why not? If you respect and care for him so much, why leave him to the wolves? Are you saying he wasn’t a champion, either?”

I glared at Katia, daring her to challenge me.

“Adam didn’t have your talents.”

“He was a mage who could tap into the most powerful nexus in the world. What could I possibly do that he couldn’t?”

“Find the followers you need to stop Renard. But in order to do that, you’ll have to prove you’re someone worthy of following.”

“How am I supposed to do that, when I have no magic?”

“You’ll figure it out. Or perhaps you won’t.” She made a circle with her hand, and the portal reappeared. “It has truly been my honor to meet you, Melina Morgan. I hope we meet again.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“W ell, that was a bust,” I said after Thomas and I were back in House Vervain. He’d stayed behind for an hour to work with Katia on the ritual. He sat behind his desk, going over his notes while I paced in frustration. “Though perhaps it was more of a long shot than I thought.”

Katia’s chiding about my leadership cut worse than her flat refusal to make the only obvious choice about Renard, though I quietly worried she might have been right.

“A setback, to be sure,” Thomas said. “But she pointed me in some interesting directions with the ritual. I think there’s a real chance we can finish it in time.”

He didn’t elaborate on the actual odds.

“Katia hinted we need to keep Piter thinking I may turn over the seal. Any ideas how to do that? He didn’t give me his phone number.”

“I have his number.” He read it out to me. “What are you going to say?”

I honestly didn’t know. Wren saved me from the dearg, and presuming the dearg worked for Piter, the steward almost certainly knew I’d made contact with the entity. And that meant he knew she hadn’t supported his statements.

I’d have to come up with something that acknowledged I’d had a meeting with Wren and still offered a plausible reason for turning over the seal to Piter.

“A little truth mixed in with a lie makes it go down easier. I’ll say I met with Wren, but I thought she was full of it. Didn’t buy a word she said. I still hate the fae, and I’m all for kicking them off the mortal world. The dearg attack would actually support that, too.”

Thomas stared at the ceiling and considered my proposal. “I can’t find any obvious flaws in that. It all hinges on whether he believes you rejected Wren’s arguments, of course.”

“I think he’ll take the bait.”

“All right. You’ve got my vote.”

I typed up a text that was much more polished than my pitch to Thomas. I also leaned in hard on my hatred of the fae and demanded that Thomas be given safe passage, as he was mortal and a mage.

I held my finger over the Send button. “I’ll negotiate for as long as I can, but at some point, he might decide I’m bluffing and invade Manhattan.”

“We have nothing to lose at this point.”

I swallowed hard and pressed the button.

Today was Monday. We had until Wednesday to meet the Council’s deadline. Keeping Piter at bay while Thomas worked on the ritual wasn’t good enough. We needed more to ensure Vervain was still standing come Thursday.

Adriana appeared at the door. “Am I intruding?”

“Not at all,” Thomas replied.

The elf settled into a chair. “Should I ask how things went with Katia?”

“Probably not,” I replied. “But I’m not giving up yet. Okay, what can we do to slow down or stop Piter? He’s after me, so what if I go on the run?”

“I suspect he’ll send some of his Unseelie agents and possibly a mage or two after you,” Thomas replied. “We’d split his forces somewhat, but that’s not guaranteed to stop him. And you’d be harder to protect. It’s still something to consider.”

“My concern,” Adriana added, “would be getting you out of Manhattan. Renard has plenty of his minions across the city. You would have to portal out if you wanted to make a clean escape.”

“We’ll need a steward to do that, and Katia is a dead end. Any other stewards we can approach?”

Thomas shook his head. “I think it’s too risky. You’re just as likely to be portaled to Renard as you are to someplace safe.”

“What about the Council? If everyone knows Piter’s working with the Unseelie, can we leverage them to move against him?”

“I believe Katia called that correctly,” Thomas replied. “I have no proof to offer the Council, and I don’t think I can persuade enough stewards to oppose Renard. Not after what happened to Adam.”

One of my classes in college involved managing a project. A proper plan, regardless of the project’s size, involved identifying the critical path that was necessary to achieve the project’s goal.

What is Piter’s critical path?

I snapped my fingers. “The seal. Without the seal, Piter can’t easily access the nexus. He can kill me, but Thomas could simply make himself or someone else the next steward. To secure the nexus, Thomas needs the ring, and he needs to be Steward of House Vervain. We need to hide it from him.”

“It’s already in the safest possible place,” Thomas replied.

“No, it’s not. Look, I used to hole up behind my wards, thinking I was safest when I was home. But all I’d done was create a prison that made it easy for the Unseelie to trap me. Piter’s going to believe the ring is here. He won’t be expecting us to move it. All we need to do is keep the ring safe long enough for Thomas to finish the ritual. Where can we hide it? The grove?”

“If Renard gets inside the house, he can get to the grove,” Adriana said. “We need a location outside of here.”

“I know where you can hide it,” Glimmer said from the hallway.

“Glimmer!” I said. “How are you feeling?”

The fae was in her fae form. Even with her small size, I could tell her eyelids were heavy. She leaned against the doorframe with a pained look on her face. But her broken wing was straight as an arrow.

“Like I want an extra helping of revenge with a side of payback on the Techgnome Bros, but I’ll settle for wrecking Renard’s plans.”

Adriana helped the sprite into a chair. “What is your idea?” the elf asked.

“Give the seal to Wren. She can keep the ring safe, and Renard won’t think to look there, especially after Melina was already caught going there once. I’m guessing he thinks you’re going to fortify the house and wait him out.”

Thomas ran a hand over his face. “The doorknob portal no longer works, and none of us can portal. The only steward who might have helped us has made it clear she won’t. How do we get the ring safely to Wren?”

“I can take it,” Glimmer said. She caught our concerned expressions. “Or I can get someone to take it.”

“Fynch can go,” Adriana replied. “He can ask Wren for help.”

Glimmer shook her head. “Renard won’t give two blinks about a sprite heading to the park, but an imp is going to be a massive red flag.”

“I think we should have Keg and Fynch scout the surrounding blocks,” I said. “It’d be nice to know what we’re up against.”

“Agreed,” Thomas said. “I’ll ask them to take care of that, and then I’ll get back to the ritual.”

Adriana looked at the sprite. “Are you sure you are okay?”

Glimmer yawned and curled up in the chair. “Yep. Just going to take a little nap. You all go save the world and wake me when it’s over.”

Adriana went to the kitchen, and I followed her. With nothing to do, she made tea and coffee and watched me prepare the dough, which didn’t take long. A bit of starter, flour, water, and salt. A few sets of stretches and folds, and the dough was ready to rise overnight.

The whole time, the elf’s eyes were everywhere but on me, which was unusual for her. I covered the two bowls of dough with a kitchen towel.

“And that’s it,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll do another stretch with the dough then pop them into the fridge for an hour. After that, and they’ll be ready to bake.”

“Wonderful,” Adriana said. She sat at the kitchen table. I joined her. “Melina, I want to tell you something, and I need you to listen to me. Despite everything that has happened, there is a chance you can still slip away. You could have your old life back if you want it.”

Say what now?

“What prompted that? Is there something I don’t know about?”

The elf shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “No. I am not hiding anything from you. But I worry you may feel pressure to become the Vervain steward. To stay in Manhattan. I care about you and your well-being, and while I would greatly miss you if you left, I do not want you staying because you feel obligated out of some sense of guilt or duty.”

Mrs. Tilley’s comments surfaced in my head. She’d said it wasn’t the staying or the going that was important. It was the reason that mattered.

“You swore to fulfill Adam’s request. I don’t see you as the kind of person to break your promise.”

Adriana looked into her cup. “I appreciate that, but I think even Adam would agree things have not gone as he had planned. I doubt he would approve any course of action that puts you at more risk.”

“What will happen to you and House Vervain and Wren and all the fae?”

“We have survived this long and faced many challenges. We will face more and, I hope, endure. King Oberon and Queen Aine will almost certainly agree to have some of their most trusted companions keep an eye on you. The mage community will forget about you, and you can forget all about them. About us.”

That seemed highly unlikely, though I briefly considered a world where I didn’t fret about mages or the fate of the fae. The Morton project felt like an unavoidable train wreck, and replacing that pipeline of projects would be difficult. Difficult but perhaps not impossible. I considered what it would be like to pick up my old life.

Slumming Saturdays with Dee.

Sharing a soda with Dad.

Enjoying tea with Mrs. Tilley.

All the things I’d taken for granted might still be within my grasp.

The real question was whether I could live with myself if I stepped back into my old life. Somehow, I didn’t think it would fit me anymore.

The entire Vervain family had assembled at the kitchen table, with Glimmer sitting cross-legged next to Fynch.

Keg and the imp had returned from their scouting with disappointing news.

“The Unseelie and Renard’s mages are all over the island,” Fynch said.

“And this house is surrounded in every direction for three blocks,” Keg added. “Getting safely away from here is going to be challenging.”

“Then how do we get the ring to Wren?” Thomas asked. “She can’t safely leave the park, and we can’t safely leave the house. And I can’t ask any of the sprites to risk their lives.”

“You don’t have to ask,” Glimmer replied. “I’ll do it. Or I’ll gather a group of us from the park, and we can take it together.”

Thomas shook his head. “I think it unwise to go near the park unless we are delivering the ring. Renard may not expect us to move the ring, but he may believe we’re seeking reinforcements. I don’t want to tip our hand to him. Speaking of which, has he replied to your text, Melina?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Well, then, we should presume he’s decided not to wait for the deadline. The increase in Unseelie and mages in Manhattan support that conclusion, too.”

None of this was encouraging, but I couldn’t argue with any of the logic. Sitting around and waiting for the inevitable, however, felt wrong.

“I can fade,” I said. “I’ve gotten a lot better. I can take the ring.”

Thomas sliced the air with his hand. “No. We almost lost you once before, and I won’t take that chance again. Besides, Katia’s insights on the ritual are proving valid. I can finish it before the deadline. I just need another day or so.”

“I don’t think we’ll still be around by then,” I replied. “Renard’s closing in, and we have to do something now.”

“I agree with Thomas,” Adriana said. “Melina should not leave the house.”

I frowned. Yesterday, I would have been happy to sit around here. In fact, my plan was simply to hang out until it was safe to go back to Cold Creek.

Today, I was trying to save Vervain and the Manhattan fae, and instead of getting support, I was being told to sit in the corner and keep quiet.

“Unless anyone else has a better idea, why not let me try?”

The group offered more objections until it all became white noise. Yet no one offered alternative plans with a better chance of success.

Fading was the one, unique talent I brought to the group, and everyone else was telling me to forget about it. Basically, they were saying I was useless.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said and left the room, not sure where I was going. The conversation slowed but didn’t stop. I heard the soft flapping of Fynch’s wings behind me.

“Hey. You all right?”

“Sure.”

“You’re lying.”

“Yep.”

I went down to the Rave Cave, the imp behind me.

A week ago, I knew nothing of mages and houses and the difference between the Seelie and Unseelie. Today, I found myself in the surprising situation of being surrounded by a family of fae—Thomas excluded—who only wanted what was best for me.

But if we didn’t find a way to stop Renard, this house would be just the first of many dominos to fall.

“Hey, Fynch, can you get me into the armory?”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

K eg had his hands on his hips and a wary look on his face.

“Fynch said you wanted access to the armory, Melina.”

“I know there’s something in there that can help me get the ring to Wren. My fading is getting really—”

Keg interrupted me. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Melina, but you’re asking the wrong person. I’m the Sentry of House Vervain, and that means I’m responsible for the protection of not just the people under this roof but also everything else. Handing you items from the armory puts you and anything I give you at risk, not to mention anyone else you come in contact with.”

“But that’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” I replied. “If I can get the ring to Wren before Renard moves in on us, I can buy us the time Thomas needs to finish the ritual.”

The imp hovered in front of the dwarf, his wings flapping excitedly. “I know what you’re thinking, but I believe she can do this.”

“And I do, too,” Keg said. “But Thomas and Adriana—”

“Are not the stewards of Vervain,” Fynch finished for him. “Besides, they haven’t come up with a better plan, right? Why not give Melina a shot?”

The dwarf frowned. “How much time do you have, because I’ve got about a million reasons for not doing so. And you know what’s at the top of that list? Making sure Melina stays safe. Besides, there’s a reason these relics and artifacts are kept locked up.”

Keg placed a hand on the vault door.

“Everything in here that’s of any use in this situation requires the user to channel magic into it. So, we’re talking mages, and last I checked, Melina isn’t a mage. But even if she was, she’d have to control the channel, and that takes a lot of practice. If your channel is inconsistent or you can’t control it, the flow of magic will backfire. You do not want a backfire.”

“What about that buffer thing?” Fynch asked.

“The what thing?”

Fynch pointed at the door. “Open her up, and I’ll show you.”

Keg unlocked the vault, and we stepped inside. Fynch went to a drawer that looked like a bunch of junk had been dumped in it. He started tossing items on the floor as he searched.

“Hey!” Keg said. “Take it easy, some of those are delicate.”

Fynch ignored him and keep digging. The dwarf retrieved the discarded items and carefully placed them on a table.

“Here we go,” the imp said. He held up what looked like a silver superhero mask from a cheap Halloween costume. “Behold, the Echoing Eyes of Montirado!”

“Oh, that,” Keg replied. He scratched at his bearded cheek.

“How’s it work, and what’s it do?” I asked.

Fynch grinned and was clearly proud of himself. “Okay, you aren’t a mage, and you haven’t even tried channeling magic yet. Keg’s right about that. All you’re doing is tapping into the innate powers you got from Adriana. It’s not the same as the magic the mages use, and it’s not identical to what the fae do. Bottom line: your magic is unique.”

The imp held up the mask.

“What this little baby does is act like a mirror for magic. It amplifies the effect. The only problem is I’ll have to tinker with it to get it to work for you, since you can’t channel external magic to power it. But I think I can tune it to work off your fading ability.”

Keg’s eyes lit up. “You think that’ll work?”

“I think I want to find out,” Fynch replied with a wicked grin.

“Make that two of us,” I said. “What do you need to tune it?”

With a little help from Keg, who distracted Adriana and Thomas, Fynch and I slipped up to my quarters.

“Man, it’s weird seeing the room like this,” Fynch said. “I didn’t realize how empty and cold it looks with Adam and Thomas’s stuff gone.”

The old stab of guilt pierced my chest again.

“I tried telling Thomas I didn’t want to take his room. He said he felt less sad in the guest room, though.”

“Believe him, then, Melina, and don’t feel bad.”

Easier said than done.

I held up the Echoing Eyes. “Okay, let’s tune this thing. It’s getting dark soon, and I’d rather be safely in the park by sunset.”

The imp took the artifact and placed it in the center of the pentagram on the floor. With a flourish of his hand, a tiny book appeared in front of him and hovered in the air. He flipped quickly through the pages until he found the passage he was looking for.

“Pretty sure this spell will do the trick. I need you to stand anywhere inside the pentagram and fade for as long as you can. Got it?”

“Got it.” I stepped over the outer circle. “Tell me when.”

“When.”

I started the mental mantra and kept going. Fynch mumbled incoherent sounds as he read from the book. The entire pentagram lit up like a neon sign. My skin tingled, and not just my fingertips. Fynch was summoning some serious magic inside the pentagram. The air was literally filled with power.

Focus, Melina.

I filled my head with the visualizations of my body slowly disappearing. First, my feet. Then my legs. Then the rest of my body. I pictured the room devoid of me, just a mask on the floor and an imp reading from a book. You know, nothing unusual.

Something tugged on my clothes, like I was being pulled forward. I looked down, but my shirt and pants were untouched. More unsettling was the fact that I didn’t see anything in front of me besides the mask.

The sensation of being pulling increased. I had to lean back to stay upright, which made it harder to stay faded. The force intensified until I nearly lost my balance.

“Fynch . . .”

The weird phenomenon stopped instantly.

I looked over at the imp. His spell book was gone.

“You felt that, right?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. Did it work?”

“Only one way to find out.”

The mask secured itself to my face without the need for a strap or adhesive. To my relief, removing it was a simple and painless process.

Keg said Adriana and Thomas had moved from the kitchen to his office when he left. I closed my eyes and began fading.

“Whoa,” Fynch said. “That was fast.”

“I can barely see you,” Keg said. With that encouragement, I continued my fading. “Okay, you’re totally invisible.”

I descended the stairs. If I could sneak past Adriana, my chances of sneaking past the Unseelie and Renard’s mages were really good. That was the test. If I passed, I would continue out the door and head straight for the park. Keg had found the Vervain seal in the armory, and the ring now hung from my necklace.

Thomas’s voice filled the first floor as I stepped into the hallway.

“I’ll ward the house with everything I can before I leave. I’ll take Keg with me. Fynch can provide cover and scout from the air. You and Melina can retreat to the grove. If the Vervain walls are breached, she can escape into the fae world. Even Renard won’t go there.”

“For good reason, Thomas. Even Renard wouldn’t last long there, and I couldn’t do that to Melina. It would be a death sentence.”

The consigliere sighed. “But she might survive, and you may not have a choice. I’m simply trying to plan for every contingency.”

I slipped up to Thomas’s door and peeked in. He was behind his desk. Adriana stood just a few feet from the door with her back to me.

“I still wish we had a better option,” the elf said.

“So do I.”

Thomas came around the desk, and Adriana turned to leave. Both of them were looking straight at me. Well, not precisely at me, but they should have seen me.

Moment of truth.

I stepped back from the door as the pair came into the hall and headed for the stairs. Neither gave me a second look. I waited until they were in the Rave Cave before going to the kitchen. Adriana had said the fae who were trapped on this plane developed immunity to some wards. Even so, I wanted as much protection as I could get my hands on.

I grabbed a small box of salt and a chunk of sourdough bread and doubled back to the front door. The bread and salt went into my coat. I retrieved the sliver of iron from the box in the front hall and held it in my right hand.

Taking the iron was a small risk. Adriana had smelled it dozens of feet away when I first arrived at House Vervain. Who knew how sensitive the Unseelie might be to it? But I waved away the danger, figuring there was enough iron or steel in the city that one little sliver wouldn’t be easily detected.

“Fynch,” I whispered, before I remembered my fade disguised any sounds I made. Thomas and Adriana might return any second, and while they wouldn’t detect me, they’d still see and hear the front door open and close.

I almost dropped my fade when I heard the flapping of the imp’s wings. He flew around the front hall and quietly searched the area.

“Melina?”

Dropping the fade and having to restart it felt unwise, so I simply opened the front door.

“Ready when you are,” Fynch whispered, and flew out. He had glamoured himself to look like a large raven.

I stepped out onto the small landing and closed the door. The sun had disappeared behind the skyscrapers, though I guessed I had another forty-five minutes or so before night fully fell across the city.

Plenty of time.

Pedestrians moved along the street, bundled up against the cold. The air felt a lot chillier than before.

I felt a twinge of guilt for breaking my promised and sneaking out again. Adriana and Thomas would be understandably upset and worried, but if all went well, I might be back before they realized I was gone.

My fade would keep anyone from hearing, seeing, or smelling me, but it wouldn’t stop them from bumping into me. And if that happened, they could grab me or, worse, attack me. I’d have to avoid all physical interaction on my way to the park.

Should be easy enough, given the sidewalks weren’t totally packed.

I turned right and made it all of ten steps when a monstrous goblin, glamoured up as a mortal, emerged from a building and nearly ran over me. I involuntarily yelped and dodged at the last moment. The fae kept going, oblivious to me.

Good news: the Eyes were working.

Bad news: this still might be harder than I thought.

And it was. Keg hadn’t exaggerated his report.

The number of fae since my last walk outside had tripled. And every mortal now looked like a Renard lackey waiting to burn me to a crisp with fireballs or disintegrate my body down to atoms. That was likely just my overactive imagination, but on the other hand, I couldn’t ignore the random person simply standing by a door or under a streetlamp. This wasn’t exactly hang around outside for no reason weather.

Stay calm, Melina. No one seems to have noticed you yet.

I looked up into the air for Fynch. The imp was nowhere to be found, but I trusted he was there. If he spotted anything really bad, he’d warn me.

The holiday decorations and all the festiveness of the city appeared to be mocking me. I was putting my life on the line, while pretty much everyone else was going about their business as if nothing was amiss.

Dinner. Dates. TV. Books. Games. Phone calls.

Christmas was around the corner, but the last thing on my mind was buying presents or sending cards or baking bread and cookies. I just wanted to survive another night.

Snowflakes gave my cheeks cold kisses.

Buttermilk biscuits.

Fading wouldn’t hide my footsteps in the snow, which meant staying on the sidewalk was no longer an option. I ducked between two parked cars and checked out the street. The traffic was getting really close to the lines of parked cars. Safely walking in that narrow gap would be nerve-racking at best, deadly at worst.

Not that I had a lot of choice.

I waited for a break in traffic and bolted across the street so that I was facing oncoming cars. If one got too close, I would have to literally jump out of the way.

My progress slowed, even as my heart rate skyrocketed. The next four blocks were an agonizing walk. Then I hit Park Avenue, which was really busy. Between the headlights in my eyes and the near-constant honking of horns, trying to keep my fade up and dodge the oncoming vehicles was almost impossible.

A side-view mirror clipped my right arm. I almost dropped the iron in my hand. The scream of pain came out a lot louder than I meant. Two or three heads turned in my direction, and I nearly froze in panic. My control over fading had slipped a notch. I quickly paused and repeated the mantra.

After a moment, their confused faces looked away.

Snow fell heavier, the flakes thick and soft. Good news? The cars were slowing down in response. Bad news? My footprints were getting easier to spot.

I picked up my pace as I rounded the last corner. One block left to go.

Traffic got even worse, and the gap I was walking got too narrow. I reluctantly moved to the sidewalk and did my best to follow in the footprints left by others. That really cut down my pace, especially as I had to dodge more pedestrians.

And the day’s light was almost gone. I’d run out of time, thanks to the snow.

I stepped off the curb to keep others from accidentally walking into me. My hand tightened on the iron sliver as I impatiently waited for the walk sign. Despite the freezing air, my hand was slick with sweat.

The light turned green, and I slipped around the pedestrians. I was so close to the park, I broke into a run. Even if Wren didn’t find me right away, I knew she was at the castle. And I knew that if it came down to it, I could probably trust any sprites in the park.

I realized the snow around the park’s entrance was mostly undisturbed. Rather than take the time to hop the fence farther down, I barreled on. No fae were in sight, and I considered myself home free at that point.

Oh, Melina, you were so close.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

T hose two annoying dearg popped out from behind a tree and nearly tackled me.

I didn’t have time to think, and my hand came up before I was even aware of it. The dearg to my right impaled himself on the iron. The metal caught him in the neck even as I felt him grab my arm.

The fae howled and stumbled away, a hand clutched to his neck.

I swung my arm at the other dearg, who suddenly seemed a lot less interested in grabbing me. However, he wasn’t giving up any ground, either.

Let’s see how he likes this.

My left hand came out of my coat pocket, and I flipped open the box of salt with my thumb. I shook the salt at the dearg and stepped forward. He easily stepped out of the way with alarming speed, but he did back away.

“That’s right,” I muttered. “Clear off.”

I shook the box two more times. My fade felt like it was still in place, but with the snow still falling, tracking me wouldn’t be hard. I didn’t have a choice except to run. I flung the rest of the salt in a large arc at the fae and dropped the box before sprinting away as fast as I could.

Don’t look back. Just keep running. Don’t look back. Just keep running.

I went face-down into the snow hard enough to feel the wind get knocked out of me. I thought I still had the iron in my hand, but I couldn’t be sure. Hands tried to pin my arms to my sides. I jerked back with an elbow and rolled on to my back.

My hand came up—the sliver of iron still in my grasp—and swung back and forth.

One dearg stood above me, and the other knelt just out of range of my iron. A blade of glowing crimson light appeared in the hand of the dearg above me. He held his neck with the other, and I took some satisfaction that I’d scored a few points before they’d taken me down.

“You’ll pay for this,” the fae said.

“Not today!” cried an airborne voice.

Fynch!

The imp appeared out of nowhere and attacked the standing dearg’s face. And by attack, I mean hurled a fireball at the fae’s face. The other dearg turned to confront the new threat, putting his back to me. I scrambled forward and pierced his leg with the iron.

I caught a backhand for that, and the world spun crazily, a few extra stars suddenly appearing in the sky. My vision was blurred, but I knew I had to get away and back on my feet.

I crawled from the dearg and slowly stood, despite my dizziness. From what I could make out, Fynch was darting about and dive-bombing the two dearg. Mini fireballs lit up the night.

“Go, Melina!” the imp shouted.

I turned and staggered away, hoping I was still on the path. My vision began clearing, but I worried about Fynch. And if the dearg got past him, how long would it take the fae to catch up with me? The castle suddenly seemed far too distant to reach in time.

I passed sprites, but now I was too paranoid to reveal my identity. Sprites could be Unseelie, too. If the dearg were inside the park, Unseelie sprites might be, too.

A group of fae crested the hill ahead of me. Goblins, maybe, or perhaps gnomes. At that distance, I couldn’t tell. I took a hard right at the next path, even though I was now heading away from the castle.

I ran through a tunnel, sparing a look behind me. If the dearg were on my trail, I didn’t see them. I turned around and crashed right into someone. For the second time that day, I was sprawled out on the ground.

“If I didn’t know any better,” a familiar voice said, “I’d think you were part tunnel troll.”

“You know, Wren, I could say the same about you.”

Her umbrella lit up, and Wren stared down at me with a stony expression. Then she busted into laughter and held out a hand. I took it, pride notwithstanding, and painfully got to my feet.

“Melina Morgan, I don’t know if you’re one of the most courageous mortals I’ve ever met or simply someone who doesn’t learn her lessons very quickly.”

A swarm of firefly lights raced to Wren and moved about frenetically. Wren’s expression turned serious again.

“Melina, the two dearg who attacked you have taken Fynch.”

No, no, no!

“Where?”

“Outside the park. Some of my sprites are tracking them.”

I took the Vervain seal from my necklace. “Renard’s forces and the Unseelie are moving in. They could attack House Vervain any second. Please, take this and keep it safe.”

Wren examined the ring. She looked surprised. “Whoever holds this seal holds a claim to House Vervain.”

“Which is why we can’t let Renard get his hands on it. Look, Thomas and Adriana have a plan, and I don’t have time to go into the details. But if we can keep the ring away from Renard long enough, we can save the nexus and Vervain.”

“And you trust me with this?”

I nodded and grinned. “Oh, I definitely expect it back, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

She nodded and tucked the ring into her coat. “It will be waiting for you.”

“Thank you. Now, where did they take Fynch?”

I followed the sprites to an underground bar blocks from the park. I stopped across the street and surveyed the area. The sprites were glamoured up and acting like they were ready to rumble.

“Will you kill the Unseelie as you did the farrow?” one of them asked me.

“I’m hoping I don’t have to.” They didn’t seem pleased with my answer. “The farrow was trying to kill me. I didn’t have a choice. If I can save Fynch without killing another fae, that’s the best possible outcome.”

“After what the dearg have done? Death is the only fate fit for them.” A slew of weapons appeared in their hands: sword, hammers, axes, and pole arms. Several donned helmets. One smeared something red under her eyes.

“We will fight by your side and die with honor, Melina Morgan.”

Note to self: never anger sprites.

“Yeah, I appreciate that, but I think there’s a safer way to go about this. I can sneak in using my fade, find Fynch, and help him escape. Hopefully, the dearg won’t even know I was there.”

More disappointed looks. A sprite ran one of her long daggers down the edge of a sword, the metallic noise sounding very unsettling.

“Then we kill them?” she asked.

“I . . . what? No.”

The fae nodded as if we were in on some secret. “Ah. You wish to claim the honor of saving the imp and personally defeating the enemy. Understandable. We won’t deny you the glory you seek.”

“Um. Yeah, great, thanks.”

“But if the dearg show their Unseelie faces outside, I make no promises we will stay our blades.”

I nodded. “Fair enough.”

The sprites spread out and guarded the bar’s entrance while I faded. I crossed the street and stopped at the door. The iron in my hand was more of a risk now if I took it inside. I didn’t want to give away my presence. Reluctantly, I dropped the iron and the bread on the sidewalk.

The next challenge was getting inside. A door mysteriously opening was not the stealth entrance I was hoping for. But I couldn’t wait forever. Every second that ticked by might put Fynch that much closer to death.

Fate or fortune was on the imp’s side that night, because the door swung open without notice. Noise blasted into the night air. I hastily stepped aside to allow the dearg to pass by, then slipped inside as the door closed.

That wasn’t too hard. I could do this, I just needed to be careful.

The bar had a low ceiling, low light, and a ton of Unseelie inside.

Buttermilk biscuits.

The bars in Cold Creek weren’t exactly quiet, but compared to this one, they were monasteries of silence. In addition to music blasting out of the speakers, the fae were insanely raucous. My first take was this was some big blowout party. A glass flew across the room and shattered against the wall, which triggered a wave of enthusiastic shouts.

But they weren’t partying. They were gearing up for war.

Almost all of them were armed and armored. I needed to move fast to save Fynch, but I also needed to warn House Vervain.

The sprites said they didn’t know the layout of the bar, just that they had seen the dearg take the imp inside. At the far end of the long room was a door slightly ajar. My money was on the imp being in the back. Hopefully still alive.

Threading that room took a lot longer than I’d have liked and led to more close calls than I could count. The Unseelie were nearly in a frenzy. I dodged blades, arms, and mugs the whole way.

But I made it across the room without detection.

I pushed the door open another three inches, just enough for me to slip through. The fae were too busy to notice. The short hall ended in another door, this one thankfully open. I moved up and looked inside. My throat went tight.

The two familiar dearg sat on a sofa with their backs to me. A TV on the wall played an action movie. And next to the TV was Fynch, whose wings were duct-taped to the wall. A thick red cord had been wrapped around his ankles, and his head hung down.

“You go first,” the dearg whose neck I’d stabbed said. A bandage had been wrapped around his wound, though it was soaked green and red. He didn’t look to be in great shape, and his face carried the reminders of taking a fireball to the face.

The other dearg held up a dart, aimed it at Fynch, and threw it. The dart stuck in the wall two inches from the imp’s left wing.

The first dearg aimed and threw. Another near miss.

I inventoried my assets, which didn’t take long at all. The only thing I had in my pockets was the conairestone. The mantra to activate it was short, but the dearg moved so quickly, they wouldn’t need a lot of time to kill me.

Oh, and would I have to drop my fade in order to activate the pathing stone? I knew fading meant others couldn’t hear my voice, but did that also apply to the stone?

I decided I’d need to somehow get me and Fynch out of this room without the dearg knowing. Once we were in the hall and alone, I could use the conairestone on us.

I moved to the right of the sofa, intending to come up on Fynch’s side and time my actions to the dart-throwing. Unfortunately, I was so focused on the imp and the dearg, I knocked into a small table.

In horror, I watched a glass on the table’s edge tip over. Time slowed, and I watched the glass tumble towards the floor. My fade hid the sounds I generated but not sounds from other objects.

The shards of glass were still skittering across the floor when the dearg jumped to their feet, blades out. Fynch’s head lifted, and he looked around.

“She’s here,” one of them said, and motioned to his partner. They spread out, one on either side of the sofa. With their blades and arms outstretched, they worked their way towards the door. And me.

That was a problem. If I couldn’t get to Fynch, I couldn’t save him. If the dearg forced me back into the hall or, worse, into the bar’s main room, it wouldn’t take long for the Unseelie to locate me.

I bit my lip as I ran through my options, which pretty much boiled down to leaping over the sofa and between the dearg to get to Fynch. And, you know, not dying in the process.

I counted to three and went for it. And I almost made it, too.

But the dearg I’d stabbed must have sensed it. Maybe my fading had failed, or maybe he got lucky. Regardless, his crimson blade lanced across my left arm and leg. I tumbled briefly into the sofa cushions before landing on the floor in a tangled mess. At that point, my fade failed completely.

I flipped the coffee table at the injured fae, which bought me enough time to get to my feet before the other fae grabbed me from behind. My left arm and leg felt like they were on fire, and the pain caused my chest to constrict.

Everything became crystal clear in that moment. I was caught, but I could escape using the conairestone. However, that would seal Fynch’s fate. Could I even look the other Vervain members in the eye after that cowardly action?

Besides, House Vervain had always pledged to protect the fae, and here was a fae who would surely die if I didn’t act quickly. Adam might be dead because of my fear and hesitancy. I wouldn’t make that mistake again and endanger anyone else.

I pulled my right arm free.

“Catch, Fynch!” I tossed the conairestone at the imp, who miraculously caught it, despite his arms being pinned. I said, “Take me home, path of stone.”

Fynch vanished in a blink of light.

I’m not clear on what happened next, because my vision got really blurry really quickly. And my ears felt like they’d been stuffed with cotton. I was aware of being tossed on the sofa and someone shouting, but the world narrowed down to a muffled point of light and then winked out of existence.

Chapter Thirty

M y head was not happy, and it got even grumpier when I opened my eyes. Bad idea.

“Ow,” I said. I was in the steward’s bed, surrounded by what looked like everyone: Thomas, Adriana, Keg, Fynch, Glimmer, and even Pinter. The imp whooped and did a loop. “Uh, hey, everyone. Not going to lie, but you’re all creeping me out. How long have you been watching me sleep?”

Adriana smiled. “If you call recovering from one of the deadliest poisons ever concocted by the dearg sleeping, then I think we have two very different definitions of that word.”

Poison?

Thomas said, “The dearg’s blade was poisoned. You nearly died.”

“I’m probably going to regret this, but how did I get here?” I had visions of the sprites rolling through the bar like Valkyries and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

“That’s a question I believe your guest should answer,” Thomas replied. “She’s waiting for you downstairs.”

Sunlight streamed through the window.

“Wait, what day is it?” I asked.

“Thursday,” Adriana.

Now I was fully awake. I sat up, despite the protests from my body. “The Council’s deadline! We missed it!”

“Easy,” Thomas said. He held out his hand. Resting in his palm was the Vervain seal. “Courtesy of Wren, who sends her regards. You did it, Melina. You saved House Vervain.”

“We saved House Vervain,” I replied.

“And you can rest easy about Sourdough Joe,” Adriana said. “I’ve been feeding him just like you showed me.”

That brought me more relief than I’d like to admit.

“Thank you,” I said. “So, if Vervain still doesn’t have a steward and we missed the deadline, why hasn’t Renard blasted us to bits?”

Thomas grinned. “There’s been a surprising and sudden change in the Council’s views regarding the sovereignty of House Vervain. Renard has, for the moment, been sidelined.”

“That sounds like a much longer story that will have to wait until I’m far more caffeinated.”

They laughed, and the initial expressions of concerns eased into ones of joy.

“Any news on Adam?” I asked. The expressions turned mournful.

“No,” Thomas said. “And at this point, we have to believe he won’t be returning.”

That was not the kind of news I wanted to start my day with, but I’d been preparing myself for it. Had the steward survived the attack, I felt we should have heard from him by now.

“Do you feel up to going downstairs?” Adriana asked. “Or shall I bring you breakfast?”

I sat up. The headache was clearing up, as was my head.

“I think I can make it. Just give me a minute to get dressed.”

Everyone but Pinter left. The hob twisted his cap in his hands like he was wringing out a dishrag. He looked embarrassed and nervous.

“Ms. Melina, might I have a word with you?”

“Of course.”

“I have a confession to make, and, well, I hope you’re not too upset with me. I’ll understand if you wish me to leave, but please know I had the best of intentions. It’s just that after Mr. Adam’s disappearance, things happened so quickly, and what with you showing up so suddenly and all, well, I—”

“Pinter, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

He sighed. “Please don’t tell Lady Adriana, but I’m the one who’s been pinching you. I didn’t want you to stay. Not at first, anyway. Now, of course, I know I was wrong, and I feel just awful. I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Melina. Will you forgive me?”

“That was you the whole time?”

The hob’s hands threatened to rend his cap in two. “’Fraid so, and I’m not proud of it. I’ve broken the sacred house rules and the rules of the hob. I’ll be packing my things and taking my leave before sunset, have no fear.”

“Hold on, Pinter. Tell me why you did it.”

He hesitated for a moment. “I suppose it felt like you didn’t see how amazing this home is. You didn’t appreciate how special it is, and then you told Fynch you didn’t plan on staying and—”

“Wait. How did you hear that? I thought hobs always left rooms as soon as we entered.”

Pinter looked like he was in physical pain. His words tumbled out like a waterfall.

“I never spied on you in here, and I only broke the rule in the other rooms because, well, I didn’t trust you. Not just anyone should become the steward of this house. The title comes with a lot of benefits, to be sure, but one of them is being a member of this fine home. And that comes with a lot of responsibility. And I just wanted to make sure you were worthy of the title.”

He took a deep breath and looked at me as if awaiting his punishment.

“You wanted to protect the house and its members,” I said. “You shouldn’t apologize for caring so deeply.”

He blinked in surprise. “You aren’t angry?”

“No. I’m impressed by your devotion. And your confession. House Vervain is lucky to have you.”

“Oh, Ms. Melina, you don’t know how happy I am to hear that! Thank you for understanding!”

I smiled at the hob. “I’m the one who should thank you. And as a matter of fact, I know exactly how to do that. But if you’ll kindly give me a moment of privacy, I apparently have a guest waiting on me.”

Pinter smiled and bowed. “Of course.” He vanished, and I had no doubt he’d left the room.

I took a moment to savor our victory. House Vervain was saved. The Manhattan nexus was safe, as were the fae. Somehow, Renard had been put in his place, and the Council miraculously didn’t want to serve up Vervain to the vultures.

And I’d helped. I’d saved Fynch and helped save House Vervain. Everything had worked out.

My eyes snagged on the bags of Morton documents.

Almost everything.

Thomas directed me to the downstairs library and closed the door behind me, leaving me alone with Katia, who was sitting in a chair and reading a book.

“Steward Correia. This is a pleasant surprise.”

Katia closed the book and stood. “The pleasure is all mine, Melina. May I call you that?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.”

“How may I help you?” I asked.

The steward gestured for me to sit, and we both settled into a chair.

“I wanted to thank you. And congratulate you.”

“For?”

“You showed yourself to be a champion. After your visit, I dispatched a handful of my mages to Manhattan. Your passionate pleas did not change my views about Vervain’s future, but you piqued my curiosity. I hedged my bets and kept an eye on you from afar.”

I added a point to her Clever column.

“Thomas said the Council has changed its views on Vervain.”

She nodded. “Thanks to you. When my mages reported on your travels to the park and then your single-handed attempt to save the imp, I realized you were, in fact, the champion I’d been looking for. I instructed my mages to clear out the bar. Regrettably, they weren’t able to save you from the bite of the dearg’s blade, but they transported you to Vervain in time to save you. How the elf managed to bring you back from the brink of death remains a mystery.”

Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea. She took me for a dip in a crazy magical place with healing waters in a grove that’s inside this house but also part of the fae world. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“I haven’t a clue. I just woke up.”

Katia smiled and let the matter drop. “As fate would have it, my mages found evidence in the bar that indisputably ties Renard to the Unseelie’s uptick in activity. The Council took extreme displeasure at that news, as it did the revelation that Renard had moved directly against another mage house. The Council still hates the fae, but it favors stability even more.”

“Yay for stability, I guess.”

She snorted. “Quite. Nevertheless, the result is that several houses have called for the dissolution of House Coriander. Before you get your hopes up, that won’t happen. But it’s a warning to Renard to abandon his current path. He’s on notice, and if he tries something this reckless again, I suspect he won’t have the chance for a third attempt.”

“So, that’s it? House Vervain is safe? The nexus is still protected?”

Katia smiled, and there was more than a little mischief in her expression. “Well, that remains to be seen. Vervain still needs a steward. I don’t suppose you have any recommendations?”

The ritual to seal the ring to me was surprisingly short. Happily, it worked the first time around, though that was likely due to the fact that several stewards had reached out to Thomas and offered their assistance. They pleaded ignorance about Renard, which was difficult to swallow, but Thomas was smart enough to graciously accept their assistance.

Thomas and Fynch performed the ritual in the steward’s quarters using the pentagram. I stood in the center with the ring on my finger while they worked through the short ritual.

When they were done, I didn’t have to ask if it had worked. Their expressions said it all.

“As my first order of business as Steward of House Vervain, I am officially recognizing the creation of a new position within this illustrious house: the Champion of House Vervain. Pinter, please present yourself and accept your title.”

The hob blinked into view, his face rosy from the embarrassment. I knelt and pinned to the hob’s chest the small metallic V Adam had crafted.

“In recognition of your dedication to House Vervain, I appoint you Champion of House Vervain.”

The hob bowed. “I shall serve with honor and distinction.”

We clapped and cheered and congratulated the hob until he couldn’t take the attention any longer. With a tear in his eye and an apology on his lips, he vanished.

“Steward Morgan,” Adriana said as she held up a mirror, “what do you think of your new look?”

My reflection had two notable differences. My brown eyes were now a vibrant emerald green. That would take some getting used to.

The second change was the crown of green light hovering above my head. I turned left and right, admiring the crown.

“I think I’ll keep it.”

My home had never looked better. My house in Cold Creek, that is. I suspected a certain dwarf might have been responsible for the suspiciously quick and high-quality repairs.

Dad and I sat at my kitchen table and shared a couple of sodas. It took me an hour to bring him up to speed. He seemed dubious about Adriana’s claim that Mom hadn’t died at the hands of the Unseelie, and he’d fully freaked out about all the rest.

“You’re going back, then?” he asked, the disappointment in his voice hard to miss.

“Yes. I know this will sound weird, but the fae need me. The mages still want to wipe the fae off the planet. I can help the Seelie.”

He raised his glass of soda at me. “You’ve never liked bullies.”

“No, I haven’t. And, look, with my new powers, I can portal back here any time. Or, you know, you could move to Manhattan.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I’m up for that kind of fast living. Cold Creek’s more my speed. I’ll keep an eye on your house until you decide what to do with it. But if you ask nicely, I might come visit you in the Big Apple.” He winked at me.

I hid my own disappointment. I’d secretly hoped he’d say yes. I guess his connection to Cold Creek was deeper than I thought. Or maybe, for the first time in his life, he felt comfortable letting me forge my own path in another town.

“I’m counting on it,” I replied. “So, you really can’t see my crown or my green eyes?”

He shook his head. “You look just the same as you did before you left. Almost.”

“Almost?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not as afraid as you used to be. You have a fire inside you that was waiting to be lit. I’m proud of you, and I know your mother would be, too.”

I hugged him, but he pulled back almost right away.

“So, what about Morton?” he asked.

“I’ll sort it out. Or not.” He lifted his eyebrows at my correction. “They’re not happy with me after they couldn’t reach for me for a few days. And I have zero chance of finishing the project. But the weird thing is, I don’t even want to anymore. Am I crazy for giving it all up?”

“Sweetheart, if I could predict the future, I’d give you an answer. But here’s what I’m confident about: you’ll figure it out. And you’ll always have a place to stay at my house if you need it, no matter how old you are. I’ll even let you and Dee have your Slumming Saturdays.”

I grinned. “You’re the sweetheart, Dad. Well, time for me to get going.”

I opened a portal.

Dad whistled and handed me the two suitcases I’d packed. “That’s way more impressive than pulling a rabbit out of your hat! Hey, before you go, what do you want me to tell everyone here?”

I’d been thinking about that, and I had my answer ready.

“Tell them I’m staying with family.”

Epilogue

I  ran a finger along the shelves in the steward’s library. None of the books were titles I’d ever seen in a bookstore. Some were centuries old. Some appeared to have been written by fae. The topics ranged from history to magic and everything in between. I was going to enjoy going through them all.

I picked up the book Katia had been reading: A Forged Future. The book was a treatise on how the fae and mortals might ultimately find a way to peacefully coexist. I read a few pages. The writing was heady but intriguing stuff and appeared to lay out the case for how the Seelie and Unseelie societies had slowly diverged over time. Interestingly, the forward hinted that the division between the two fae cultures wasn’t necessarily as wide as everyone thought.

“Hello, Melina.”

I dropped the book at the sound of the voice, one I instantly recognized.

“Adam?”

“In the flesh.” The ghostly visage looked down at his ethereal presence. “Well, I suppose not.”

“I thought you were dead!”

“I’m not, in fact, deceased, present state notwithstanding.”

“You saved my life!”

He grinned and nodded. “And you’re quite welcome about that.”

“If I’d listened to you in the first place—”

Adam lifted a hand. “I regret nothing about saving you, and you have nothing to feel guilty about, especially after you kept House Vervain out of Renard’s hands. And while I’m not technically dead, I’m in a rather difficult position. I need your help.”

“Of course, whatever you need! But let me get the others, they’re going to—”

Adam’s ghost form shook his head. “This is a conversation I need to have with you and only you.“

“Okay, but I have a lot of questions.”

He smiled. “I’m sure you do. Where would you like to begin?”

Learn more about the inspiration for this series at:

https://scottiswriting.com/manhattan-magic-dwarves-and-daisies

And continue your journey in Manhattan Magic with the next book in the series, Rituals & Recipes.

Melina Morgan saved House Vervain from the Unseelie and became the latest steward. Now all she has to do is save the mage house from itself.

I risked my life to rescue Fynch and keep House Vervain out of the hands of the mage, Piter Renard, but my job was just beginning.

Unseelie fae are still sneaking into Manhattan and causing trouble for the Seelie. I haven't had time to learn how to cast any kind of powerful magic to stop them, so I'm going to have to find another way. And I need a solution fast to avoid a war between the fae factions.

More troubling are the forces tearing House Vervain apart. In spite of our victory against the mages and the Unseelie, the Vervain members may succumb to a different kind of threat.

Even with my bread starter, Sourdough Joe, by my side, things don’t look great. If I can't keep this house together, my newest home may be my latest failure . . .

About the Author

Scott Walker adamantly believes pizza is a food group, Han shot first, and Serenity is still flying somewhere out in the 'verse. Over the years, he's designed, crafted, and shared storytelling across a variety of experiences, including collaborative world building, tabletop gaming, and live-action role-playing. While Scott's imagination takes him to lands of mystery and wonder, he always returns to his hometown of Los Angeles. At least, he's pretty sure it's Los Angeles.

https://scottiswriting.com

Acknowledgments

I’m exceedingly grateful to Shavonne Clark at Motif Edits, who not only provided input on my outline but handled the line editing for this novel as well!

SPELLS & SOURDOUGH

Copyright © 2023 Scott Walker

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Published by Firefly Tales, LLC

Book Cover Design by MiblArt

ISBN: 978-1-956757-10-1