Davin the dipshit.

Davin the deceiver.

Davin the . . . demon?

I shuddered on that last one, even if it was just wordplay.

“This one’s easy. Just wait here for a second with my friend Skel. I need to check something.” I said it over my shoulder as I rounded the side of the house, not giving Roderick much choice. Ignoring the Sorrel-Weed house and whatever demon lurked in there, I hurried to the door that led into the basement and Crash’s forge. I had to make sure he’d stay away. Not only so he wouldn’t get hurt, but also because he didn’t know that I was dealing with a goblin problem.

Down the steps and through the door I went, shutting it behind me. “Crash?”

There was no sound—no hammering of steel, no whoosh of the forge going. No smell of burning coal.

I made my way through the basement space until I found his work bench. A single sheet of paper lay on the wooden table. I should have left right then, but I couldn’t help but take a peek at it.

Flowing script. A very obvious feminine hand had written the words that blurred a little as my eyes watered.

It wasn’t even hot in there, at least not much. It was as though the words didn’t want me to read them, as strange as that may sound. I squinted. Maybe it was just runny old eyes. I blew out a raspberry and picked the paper up.

Meet me at the fountain. I must speak with you right away. I miss you.

K.

K. Karissa? Most likely. I didn’t think Kinkly could write words that big, even if she had a pen she could hold. Nor did I think Kinkly would say she missed Crash.

What in the world was the fairy queen up to now? I pushed away the old fear that I wasn’t good enough, that he’d taken one look at my less than perfect body and run the other way.

I flipped the paper over and scribbled my own message to Crash. Stay away from the house a few days. My job is getting dicey and could bring more trouble. B.

Not so flowing, not so nice. But the block letters would be hard to miss.

I left the note and strode out of his basement shop, around the house (with a hand raised to block my line of sight to next door), and into the front yard.

I looked at Roderick and snapped my fingers. “Now I’m ready to go.”

17

Getting to the council was interesting. Let’s start with my dead ex-husband. That was truly my favorite part.

Alan paced beside the horse and I patted my bag. “Get in.”

“I won’t fit, are you crazy?” He stared at me like I’d lost my mind, and it was annoying enough that I barely noticed that he was still dripping blood from his neck. Real or not, that probably should have bothered me more.

I opened the bag with one hand, reached over, and grabbed his ear with the other. Let me tell you, stuffing my dead ex into a bag was truly the highlight of my day. Especially the last bit where I had to put a little more effort into it, and he complained that my bag stunk like funk and seawater.

That done, I turned and pulled myself onto my horse.

Roderick said nothing, just raised both eyebrows. “That’s your ex-husband?”

“You bet.” I grinned up at him.

Roderick’s mouth quirked. “Remind me not to piss you off.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I said. “Not that I was ever offered the chance.”

He mounted behind me on Skel, and handed me a blindfold.

I rolled my eyes. “What, now we’re in Mission Impossible?”

“They don’t trust easily. There are those in the shadow world who would wipe out the council and the SCE if they could. The more people who can find us, the weaker we become,” he said.

Sighing, I put the blindfold on. “You realize that a blindfolded ten-mile walk is totally ridiculous? What would have happened if I didn’t have the horse? Is this your typical way of bringing people in?”

“Not my idea. No, it’s not typical, and yes, it would have been ridiculous, but even if I agree with you, this is how they wanted it done,” he said.

“Let me guess, Davin’s idea?” I muttered.

His grunt confirmed it. Davin really was a dick.

The ride took just over half an hour with Skel going at top speed. Roderick was quiet, not a word spoken the entire time, and the longer we were galloping along, the more worry pricked at the back of my mind. I knew that Roderick was a council member; I’d seen that for myself.

But what if he was working for the goblins? What if I’d just let a bad guy kidnap me and use my own skeletal horse to transport me? Jaysus Christmas, what had I gotten myself into?

By the time I’d come to the conclusion that I might have to fight my way out of this situation, Skel started slowing to a stop. Roderick hopped off first and took my hand, helping me down.

“Don’t take the blindfold off,” he said. He led me along, and I did all the mental gymnastics I could to figure out where we were.

My feet were on old-school paving stones, the irregularity of them obvious with each step. The smell was sweet and sugary like candy with a hint of briny water. The river wasn’t far either, I could hear a boat blow its horn. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say were about to go into Death Row, the location of the supernatural market. That wasn’t ten miles away. If I was right, we’d just been riding in circles to pass the time. Tricky buggers.

I kept my thoughts to myself, and Roderick led me by the wrist through a narrow squeeze of cement walls on either side of me, the rough material scratching at my bare arms and pulling at the leather. Next came a set of wide, slick stairs from the feel of them. I stumbled twice going down, and Roderick caught me both times.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” I said as we made our way down the stairs. “Why don’t you all use your magic to make a damn elevator?” Stairs going this far down meant stairs going this far up.

Stairs, why did it have to be stairs?

My legs and knees were already hurting just at the thought of having to climb up.

“Because we are trying to remain hidden,” he said. “And flying under the radar means forgoing a few conveniences. Including using human electricians to make an elevator. Memory wipes are never one hundred percent. The mind and the heart are more powerful than any magic, and so taking a memory is not a sure way to keep things a secret. Threats are far better.”

I bit back my smart-ass comment that if they wanted to remain hidden, they should do so somewhere other than Death Row. But I said nothing. Look at me go, managing to bite my tongue.

A door creaked open followed by the sound of squeaking hinges and what had to be a heavy wooden frame dragging across the stone floor, and then I was finally allowed to take the blindfold off.

I blinked a few times and just stared at the room in front of me.

The floor was a patterned carpet, green with black and white lilies woven throughout it. There was a desk to my left and one to my right, both made with a dark wood that had been heavily and elaborately carved. I stared at the one on my left, seeing skulls and bones, tombstones, and moons, and the same feathers etched into the coin Grimm had given me. That did not assuage any of my fears. The desk to my right was decorated with animals and trees, climbing vines and sunbursts—a much more cheery scene, all in all.

“When you step between the desks, any glamor or spells you are using will be stripped from you. You can only appear in front of the council naked of any magic.” Roderick stepped between the two desks, and his body shimmered, sparkles flickering over him and wrapping around his hands, which he spread wide as if to show me it didn’t hurt.

He didn’t change—he didn’t suddenly get shorter and turn into a goblin or get taller and sprout wings. He seemed to have more magic curling around him from the left side, from the desk made up of skulls and such. Interesting, but I didn’t know quite what to do with that information. His magic was intense, and after experiencing it at the Marshall House, I knew it was far from light and fluffy.

“Your turn,” he said. “Any spell that is on you will be returned to you when you leave.”

I cleared my throat and stepped forward. The magic between the two desks swept up and around me, bright, pretty sparkles reaching out to me from the right while shadows swirled out from the left.

I watched as the magic spun around me, circling me as if they didn’t quite know what to do. My bag shook, and Alan was expelled as if the bag puked him up.

“Where are we?” He clutched at his hat as he turned around. “I don’t like this place.”

I ignored him and spoke to Roderick. “Maybe I don’t fit into either category.”

Roderick shook his head. “This isn’t about having one kind of magic. It’s about stripping you of anything you’d hide from us.”

Well, that explained why Alan had been barfed out of my bag.

I spread my hands wide and the magic circled around them, settling into my palms before dispersing back to the desks.

Roderick just stared at me. “You look a little different, but not much. The glamor was slight, and it was old. A spell from a long time ago. Perhaps from Celia?”

I shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I didn’t do anything to hide from anyone.”

He turned his back on me and snapped his fingers. The air in front of him shimmered and the room opened as if a curtain had been lifted.

Thirteen desks circled a room much larger than it had looked, and a male in a long dark cloak sat behind each one. Not a single woman on the council, but really, was that any surprise?

“Bunch of peeping Toms,” I said, not caring they could hear me.

Roderick left me there and went to sit where an open desk awaited him. Six to the left, six to the right, and one smack dab in the center, facing me from across the room.

I kept my eyes on that one. Long gray hair flowed down over his shoulders, offsetting the dark robe. He had a long white beard that was braided into two pieces, bright bits of jewels and metal woven into those strands. His eyes were dark, and I don’t mean dark brown. I mean dark as in black, bottomless eyes.

“At least they aren’t pink,” I muttered, and I felt the room stiffen around me. “Oh, get over yourselves. You know I dealt with the O’Seans. Which, by the way, you’re welcome for.”