“I will. Good luck, Seth.”

I hoped there was enough to go around.

• • •

My grandfather was waiting in his car when we came back, engine running and heater blasting against the cold.

“Report?” he asked, rolling the window down with its old-fashioned hand crank.

“Winston seems quite normal,” Ethan said. “Whatever delusions he was experiencing, he doesn’t hear them now.”

“The doctors suspect the sedation may have ‘reset’ his brain,” my grandfather said. “And besides that, the building is sealed from magic, thanks to the Order. So the magic won’t affect him while he’s here.”

“What if he stepped outside again?” I asked. “Do we think the effect just fades after time?”

“We don’t know,” my grandfather said. “We haven’t tried it yet.”

That wasn’t an answer I liked. Fading magic meant we just needed to keep the victims from hurting themselves or others until the magic wore off of its own accord. If it didn’t wear off, we’d have to keep them separated and safe—and figure out a way to make it stop. That sounded much, much harder.

Our phones—all three of them—began squealing at once. We pulled them out, checked the screens.

“Well,” my grandfather said, looking up at us, “I guess you’ll be going now.”

“Two dozen fairies on my front lawn?” Ethan said, gaze narrowed dangerously. “Yes. I believe that’s something we’ll need to address.” He glanced at me. “It seems you may get your chance to talk to Claudia after all.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE SHADOWED GIRL

Mercenary fairies had once been allies of Cadogan House—or close enough. They were fearsome and fearless warriors, and they’d been the first to guard the House’s gate while we slept. But fairies liked gold, and they’d been lured away by the Greenwich Presidium, our previous British masters, and had turned against us. So it wasn’t good news to learn they were camped out in the yard.

On the other hand, given the week we’d had so far, it was somehow not entirely surprising.

Brody hauled ass back to the House. He piped in the Ops Room through the vehicle’s audio system, so we could commiserate with Luc and Malik.

“What do they want?” Ethan asked, brow furrowed, arms crossed, one leg over the other. He’d switched from investigation to Master mode pretty quickly.

“We haven’t even opened the door yet,” Malik said. “We called as soon as the gate alerted us. They were allowed into the yard for the sake of supernatural comity.”

“Weapons?”

“None,” Luc said. “That’s reason number two they were allowed into the yard. They’ve said nothing. They’re standing in formation. She’s standing in front of them. Waiting, as they all are.”

“Suggestions?” Ethan asked.

“I think we hear them out,” Luc said. “They aren’t allies, but they’re also not being aggressive, at least right now. They came to us without weapons, and although she probably won’t deign to talk to anyone but you, they do seem very interested in a conversation.”

“Malik?” Ethan asked.

“Agreed.”

He glanced at me. “Sentinel?”

“Agreed. Odds are, she wants to talk about the same things the rest of us want to talk about.”

“The weather,” Malik said, without irony.

“The weather,” I said.

“I concur,” Ethan said. “Lock down the House. I want everyone on full alert, just in case. We’ll be there in—”

“Two minutes,” Brody supplied, meeting Ethan’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Two minutes,” Ethan said with a nod. “Let’s be on our toes.”

• • •

Tires squealed as Brody pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of the House.

“Ready?” Ethan asked Luc.

“Ready as we’ll ever be when a few dozen mercenary fairies come to the door.”

“Then, let’s go,” Ethan said, and the audio went quiet.

Brody opened Ethan’s door, and we walked to the gate, nodded at the guards, who stepped aside to let us enter the grounds. At the same time, Malik opened the House’s door, walked out first, Luc and Lindsey behind him, then Kelley and Juliet.

The fairies, uniformly lean, with sculpted cheekbones and long, dark hair, all of them clad in identical head-to-toe black, stood in a wide triangle, the point facing the gate, the broad side facing the House. They were a striking, graphic contrast to the inch of snow that covered the lawn.

They parted as we approached, splitting with mathematical precision along the sidewalk. And when the last line of them split, she turned to face us.

She stood in front of that line of fairies, an absolute vision. Her skin was milk white, her hair long and wavy and strawberry blond and topped by a delicate ring of white flowers. Lily of the valley, just like the ones in my bouquet. She wore her usually diaphanous white gown, her voluptuous body easily visible beneath it.

But there was a difference. Claudia had always been beautiful, but millennia trapped in a tower had begun to take their toll. Tonight, the age and fatigue that had pulled at her skin had been brushed away, as if by an artist with a very skilled hand.

She was stunningly beautiful. And very, very dangerous.

“Claudia,” Ethan said.

“Bloodletter.” She slid her gaze, full of peril and old magic, at me. “Consort.”

“Wife,” Ethan corrected.

She looked dubious at the distinction. Fairies didn’t believe in love, or so they said.

“Why are you here?” Ethan asked.

“The world is changing.” There was a hint of Ireland in her voice, a trill that hadn’t been there before. She held out a hand, watched the snowflakes that settled on her palm, then blew them away. The flakes sparked, dissipated.

“So we are aware,” Ethan said. “I’ve allowed you onto my grounds, Claudia, despite your previous treachery. Tell me what you want, or be on your way.”

I wasn’t sure that was the best tone to take with a dangerous woman who’d brought her dangerous army. I put a hand on my katana, just in case.

“There is no need for threats,” she said, and flicked a hand in the air.

Something brushed across my hand. A thin green vine had bloomed from my katana’s lacquered sheath and slunk toward the sword’s handle, twining around it to keep it in place. Leaves, small and brilliantly green, split from the vine and uncurled, sending the scents of new spring leaves and powdery flowers into the air.

This was old magic, fairy magic. Magic she’d been able to access before she’d voluntarily given it up. She’d loved Dominic, Seth’s literal evil twin, and had given up her magic to save him, even while maintaining that fairies were above such base emotions.

She wasn’t supposed to have this magic anymore.

That’s new, I said silently to Ethan.

And concerning.

For several reasons, I thought, and glanced up, saw the challenge in her eyes. “Get your magic off my sword.”

Claudia’s gaze shifted to Ethan as if to confirm I had any authority in the House—or to assess whether getting married had softened his edge. He smiled back at her.

“She stands Sentinel of this House, Claudia, and you know she can fight. For that reason alone, I’d suggest you heed her advice.”

Claudia watched him for a moment. Her expression didn’t change, but I caught the light flick of her fingers, the rustle of her long red locks. And I didn’t need to look down to know the vine was retreating. The tingle of magic receded along with it.

“You’ve regained power,” Ethan said.

Her smile looked pleasant, but there was something behind it. Something old and powerful and treacherous.

The air filled with buzzing magic so quickly I barely had time to recognize the attack before we were somewhere else . . . and somewhen else.

I stood in a meadow, green and lush, and as misty as an Irish shore. A lark sang somewhere in the distance, its voice a melody against the low thrush of waving grass, the faraway sound of a beating ocean. I looked down, found myself in a long skirt of soft, nubby fabric, a tunic over it in the same shade of pale blue.