“Then what did happen?”

It’s only when she asks for a third time that I realize I’ve picked up on some of the Bargainer’s bad habits, like withholding secrets.

I glance down at my bracelet, which is missing over a row of beads. “Can you come over?” I ask.

“Is the sky blue, bitch?”

I give a shaky smile, even though she can’t see it. “Good. I’ll tell you when you get here.”

Just like I promised myself, I fish out some comfort food and turn on a show that will rot my brain while I wait for Temper to get here.

None of it helps.

I’m disturbed by my trip to the Otherworld, I’m upset by what happened here in my house, but most of all I’m annoyed that I keep replaying every single intimate thing Des has done since he came for me.

Ten minutes later my front door opens, and I hear the click-clack of heels.

Temper stops in the entryway when she sees me, blinking rapidly. “My girl.”

The two of us close the distance between us, hugging each other tightly. When we finally break apart, Temper sniffles, her gaze moving about my place. Her eyes linger on my restored table and the unbroken windows.

“I was here this morning,” she says, brushing her braids away from her face. “Your kitchen table was broken.”

“That’s, uh, part of what I have to tell you about.”

“I’m all ears.” She sets down her stuff then plops on my couch. A tuft of cotton flutters into the air as she does so.

Missed a spot.

Temper grabs my bowl of popcorn and begins eating it. “Where’s the booze?” she asks, looking around. Usually nights like this always have a beer or a glass of wine to accompany them.

Crap, she doesn’t yet know.

“Um, I’m trying out this whole sober thing,” I say, gingerly sitting down next to her.

She swivels to fully face me, popcorn forgotten. “Okay, what is going on?”

I scrub my face. “Way, way, waaaaaay too much.”

Where to even start?

Dropping my hands, I glance down at my wrist. “You know this bracelet?” I begin, lifting my arm.

“Yessss.” She has no idea where I’m going with this.

“Each one of these beads is an IOU.” I run my thumb over them, not meeting her eyes. “I’m in a lot of debt.”

She settles into the couch. “So pay it off,” she says, and now she resumes eating my popcorn. “You have money.” She snaps her fingers as an idea comes to her. “Or, better yet, glamour that shit away.”

I clear my throat. “It’s not that simple. I can’t glamour this guy. And I am paying it off. That’s why I’ve been gone.”

Now she squints at me. “Who’s the guy?”

I give a nervous laugh. “He’s, um … he’s the Bargainer.”

It’s quiet for several beats.

Temper raises her eyebrows. “Wait, the Bargainer? The same Bargainer who nearly killed that teacher a decade ago? The same guy that’s been linked to over twenty disappearances? The same guy that’s always at the top of the Politia’s Wanted List because that same guy is always pulling mad-ass shit?”

“All that stuff is alleged,” I say.

She snorts. “Bitch, you and I both know that motherfucker ain’t innocent.”

“He’s a decent guy.” And he kisses like a rockstar.

“You’re defending him,” she says, astounded.

“It’s complicated.”

“He’s a bad guy, Callie. And this is me you’re talking to. I grew up in Oakland—I like ’em bad. But even I think he’s too naughty to tap.”

I roll my lips together and stare down at my hands.

She takes one look at my face and blows out a breath. “Oh, naw, girl, don’t tell me you like him?”

I don’t say anything.

“Shi-it. You do.” She reaches over and grabs my hand. “Let me give it to you straight, bitch—it always ends terribly with the bad ones.”

Unfortunately for me, I already know that all too well.

It’s deep night by the time I eventually go to sleep, my mind too consumed by my thoughts.

Earlier, I managed to fill Temper completely in, starting from eight years ago. She’d always known someone had broken my heart, but until tonight she’d never known the details. I’d told her about my deal with the Bargainer and the mystery I’d gotten myself involved in, and lastly, I told her about Eli coming here during one of the Sacred Seven days and shifting on me.

Poor Eli. I’m no longer the only supernatural he’s going to have a reckoning with. And personally, I’d be much more scared of Temper’s wrath than mine.

Outside, the wind whistles against my windows, shaking the glass panes against their frames. It sounds like a dying creature. The waves crash angrily against the cliffs, the whole thing so loud that once I do fall asleep, it becomes the soundtrack to one anxious dream after another.

I hear those fae children in my head.

He’s coming for you. Coming to get you.

Their hands hold me in place while something in the distance creeps closer. Closer.

The moaning wind is speaking to me. Humming.

“Fee, fye, foe, fin, I caught the scent of a sweet siren. Fey, fye, fah, fing, I’ll pluck her feathers and make my bird sing.”

I try to pull against the children’s hold, but I’m stuck. I stare out my window, and I swear I see a dark silhouette against the night.