Adam relaxed into his chair and draped an arm along the back of Eliza’s, looking for all the world like a man at perfect ease, despite the reporter’s nosy questions. “As a matter of fact —”

“The GIM are growing weak,” Eliza cut in. “Do you know why?”

Michaels scratched beneath his chin. “Speculation is all I can give you on that.”

Some oracle.

“Illuminate us,” Adam drawled.

“Well…” Michaels looked Adam over. “Their power is tied to their sire, is it not?”

Which meant that as Adam grew weaker, so did they. Eliza wondered if Adam knew this all along, for he waved a lazy hand. “Speculation, to be sure.” But Eliza knew Adam well enough to see how much the weakening GIM upset him.

“We are here,” Eliza hurried on, wanting to smooth over the moment, “on account of me. I’m Mab’s granddaughter.”

Michaels lurched upright, his teasing manner falling away. “You’re serious?” His skin paled but his cheeks turned crimson.

“As the grave,” said Adam, his catlike eyes gleaming.

The young man ran a shaking hand through his curls, sending them into disarray.

“Tell me,” Eliza said in a softer tone, “about the fae.”

“What? You’re Mab’s granddaughter. I cannot possibly tell you anything you don’t know better.”

“I know nothing.” Eliza clutched the edge of his desk. “I didn’t even know my true kin until a few months ago. Adam seems to think you are the best person to tell me, so… please?”

“Of course, of course.” He poured himself another steaming cup of tea, then took a gulp of the hot brew, his eyes watering. With a deep breath, he sat back. “Here’s the thing, Miss May. Fae, demons, lycans, elementals, angels, gods, goddesses, they’re all interconnected with mankind. It’s a bit like the chicken and the egg. Did humans create the myths or did the myths come before the humans?”

“You mean no one knows?” Eliza found that hard to believe.

“Aye, well, according to the angels, who are the oldest beings anyone knows of, the humans, with their powerful imaginations, gave birth to all but God. But that in itself is dicey because what you’d think of as God is the collective power of human consciousness.”

Michaels steepled his fingers and pressed the tips to his lips. “Theology aside, we do know that fae, in particular, did grow out of myth. No other being is as closely linked to human thoughts. And, to be quite frank, this brasses the fae off something fierce. They hate that humans have so much control over them.”

When Eliza frowned in confusion, he leaned in close, his voice becoming emphatic. “You’ve no notion how powerful human belief can be. Nor how much it effects the Others. That is why being seen and acknowledged means so much to them. They have power because we gave it to them.

“Over their existence, the fae have had many incantations, distinctions made by humans wishing to expand and explain the myth. They’ve been the Seelie Court and the Unseelie Court, Trooping Fairies, Solitary Faires, Light fae, Dark fae, Tots, household fae. Mab, your grandmother, holds great power simply because she’s so well known in the human world. Every time someone orates Mercutio’s speech about Mab or some poetically inclined sod recites Shelley’s Queen Mab, she gains strength.”

“I don’t understand,” Eliza said. “These beings are real. They’re stronger than humans, capable of killing them, yet you say humans created them and feed their powers.”

“Yes. Human thoughts and beliefs took on a consciousness and corporeal bodies. They are entirely their own creatures now. But they still feed off of the power of human belief. This is why so many supernaturals want to expose themselves to human society. They are of the opinion that humans, once realizing the truth, will give them a surge of power because their belief will be absolute.”

“Well, won’t it?”

“No,” said Adam, his deep voice so resonant it seemed to tickle her skin. “Because there is the power of disbelief as well. Humans have a great capacity for disbelief. We’ll tell ourselves that what we see isn’t real. Now more than ever, when science and reason hold greater sway than myth and faith. To come out into the open would be catastrophic. Humans would either explain the Others away, fight them to the death, or shut down mentally. Likely a little of all. The result will be the weakening and needless deaths of countless supernaturals.”

Eliza grew up in the aftermath of a great war. She knew quite well the toll it took on a society. “And Mab wants exposure?”

Adam turned his attention on Michaels. “Mab knows the power humans have over her kind. Thus she both fears and hates them. However, she’s cunning enough to know that she’s better off feeding the myth of herself than destroying it. What she wants is power over supernaturals, not humans.”

“Aye.” Michaels sat back. “But the trick is finding something stronger than immortality.”

A dark smile curved Adam’s lips. “Don’t you know what that is?”

Eliza didn’t but she rather thought they both did, given the way Michaels smiled too.

“Pray, end my suspense,” she clipped out.

Michaels answered first. “Death. That which is already dead cannot be defeated.”

Adam crossed one leg over the other. “As I am certain this information will be circulated all through London’s underworld soon enough, here are the facts. For the past six months, Mab has tortured me, first for the fun of it, but recently to discover the location of the Golden Horn an Bás, which I supposedly took hundreds of years ago while pillaging Ireland.” Adam waved an idle hand. “Rot, all of it. But if Mab wants it, then so do I.”