"He's what?"

"In the store," Roland repeated, flipping the covers back, pivoting Allie around until her legs were out of the bed, then pulling her up into a sitting position. "Right at this very moment, there's a Dragon Lord in the store. Get dressed and get downstairs."

"What about...?" She twisted around until she could see Graham. With the heavy drapes still shut and the only light spilling in the open door, she couldn't tell if he looked any better.

Roland tossed a pair of clean underwear at her head. "I'll keep an eye on him."

"You're not coming down?"

He stared at her for a long moment. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. "No," he said at last as she shimmied into her jeans, "I'd just be a distraction."

Even barely awake, Allie knew distraction was not his first choice. She'd have called him on it, but right at the moment, Roland being a bit weird was far enough down her list of things to worry about that she could, essentially, not worry about it. She grabbed the bra she'd taken off a depressingly short time before, dug out a T-shirt, and threw on a hoodie, turning back toward the bed as she zipped it. Graham had his face turned away from her, but she could see the shallow rise and fall of his chest. "I'm worried about him, Rol. The painkillers should have worn off by now."

"It's barely been eight hours," Roland reminded her, handing over her shoes as she left the bedroom and pulled the door almost all the way closed behind her. "And you may have messed with timing when you charmed him. But it's possible he's just catching up on his sleep. Tabloid reporter by day, ninja by night-working two jobs'll really take it out of you."

"If he wakes up..." The sudden fear of returning to the apartment and finding him gone had her heart pounding in her throat. "Don't let him leave."

"Fine. Now move.You don't want to leave Charlie alone with a Dragon Lord any longer than necessary."

The mirror showed her reflection in a full suit of armor.

Allie patted the frame as she passed. "Thanks. I'll be fine."

As it happened, Charlie wasn't alone with the Dragon Lord. She was standing behind the counter, one hand clutching what looked like a gold-colored book, watching something at the opposite end of the store-Three guesses to what, the first two don't count, Allie told herself silently-and Joe was by the door either wiping up a spill or rubbing it into the floor. The dark patch of wood offered no clues, but the mop seemed to be anchoring him in place. Keeping him from running. She could feel the terror come off him in waves.

It had to be instinct. Joe was full-blood Fey, sure, but he was a changeling; he'd been in the MidRealm since he was a baby, so he didn't actually know anything more about the Dragon Lords than they did. Allie suspected that a smart person would use his fear as a cue to how they should be feeling, but it only made her sad.

"Joe?"

He jerked around to face her and gasped, "I thought you knew."

She had no idea what he was talking about and no time to figure it out. "Michael could probably use a hand in the loft. He's got tradesmen coming in to lay the floor today."

"There's, I mean... Coffee!"

Given the accompanying movement of the mop, she assumed that was what he'd spilled. "I think you've got it."

"I could..."

"You could help Michael? Yeah, that'd be great." She stepped forward, giving him a clear route to the back hall.

Knuckles white where he gripped the mop handle, he shot a panicked look at Charlie.

"We'll be fine," she said and hopefully only Allie heard she was speaking through clenched teeth.

"Customers..."

"Dude, there's two of us and a Lord of the UnderRealm." Without shifting her gaze, she jerked her head toward Allie. "I think we can figure out how to sell a yoyo. Go on."

He managed an eye roll and walked with exaggerated bravado to Allie's side.

She touched his shoulder as he passed. "Keep Michael from coming in here. He's..."

"A distraction?"

"Yeah, that, too." Second time in as many conversations she'd essentially been warned about getting distracted. Given the whole facing-a-Dragon-Lord thing, she actually planned on paying attention.

Joe squared his shoulders. "I can do that."

"Good."

She waited until she heard the back door close before she moved to stand across the counter from Charlie. From there, she could see the Dragon Lord in front of the bookshelves that covered the far wall. The shoulders of his black trench coat were spotted with rain, and Allie wasn't at all surprised when the coat made a sound like the rustle of wings as he turned to face her.

Then she stopped thinking about wings and tails and talons and conservation of mass and high school physics.

"Whoa."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed. "Kind of too distracted to appreciate it last night, but he's a hottie. Be careful. I'm staying back here so I don't embarrass myself by humping his leg."

Skin the color of burnished mahogany, the Dragon Lord had black hair cut short, a black goatee, and cheekbones that weren't so much chiseled as sculpted. He wore a pale gray suit under the trench coat with a darker open-necked shirt that framed the strong column of his throat. He was very tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips and hands so large and powerful looking Allie had trouble focusing on what they were holding.

"This," he said, raising a tattered, leather-bound book, "should not be available to anyone able to see through the charm."

She could feel the sizzle of attraction across her skin, but she didn't seem about to succumb. Which, all things considered, was good, but the power coming off a Dragon Lord should have had her too attracted to concentrate on anything but him.

Where attracted pretty much meant: Oh, baby, here and now!

It hadn't been a problem on the street last night either.

Maybe, she thought, realizing he was waiting for her to respond, it has something to do with the whole patronizing Prince of the UnderRealm tone. He sounded a bit like Auntie Jane, and that was just creepy enough to put her right off.

"That's a complex charm," she pointed out. "There's not going to be a lot of people who can see through it."

"One is too many. There's enough knowledge contained in these pages to do serious harm. When we have finished our conversation, I'll take it somewhere less..." A glance around the store. "... flammable and burn it."

"The price is inside the front cover."

Charlie made a sound halfway between a gasp and snicker, but Allie refused to look away, holding the Dragon Lord's gaze determinedly if not entirely fearlessly. The whole do me thing aside, he could still rend, devour, and-oh, yeah-fry her where she stood. He raised a dark brow, and the temperature rose. Allie felt a drop of sweat run along her spine.

"Really?" He offered her a chance to back down. To apologize. To throw herself on his mercy.

Allie bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and squared her shoulders. "Really. We can handle whatever currency you're carrying."

To her surprise, he laughed, and it got significantly easier to breathe. "You've got fire, Gale girl. Very well." A quick glance at the flyleaf and he pulled his wallet from his pocket as he walked toward the counter.

Wallet?

"Don't worry, it's not illusionary." He pulled out a pair of fifties. "I have no interest in spending all my time on a rocky cliff eviscerating..."

"Virgins?" Charlie offered.

"Cattle," he said. "They're easier to find." The book disappeared inside the folds of the trench coat. "And cash is easier to obtain than a credit rating. Now then..."

Allie didn't remember him taking her hand. Actually, she didn't remember moving close enough to him that he could take her hand, but apparently she had. In direct contrast to the expensive suit, his fingers had a working man's calluses. What did Dragon Lords work at? she wondered.

He stroked his thumb over her palm, the rough pad leaving a path of warmth behind it. "You may call me Adam. It isn't my actual name, of course, but it has relevant symbolic value. And you are?"

"Alysha."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Alysha Gale."

His lips burned against the back of her hand. The almost pain made her knees weak. She locked them and tried to banish the ringing in her ears.

Not her ears.

"My phone is ringing."

Adam blinked, the motion the least human seeming thing he'd done. "I beg your pardon?"

"My phone." Allie tugged her fingers free. "I have to get it." She shoved her hand into the pocket of her hoodie, closed it around the phone, and left it there for a moment while her fingers stopped trembling. When it rang again, and Adam's brows rose, she pulled it out, and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Why are we hearing about this man you've met from your cousin?"

This time, it was her ears ringing. Ear. She moved the phone out about six centimeters from her head. "I'm kind of busy right now, Auntie Ruby."

"Too busy to talk to a dying old woman?"

She sighed and gave some serious thought to beating her head against the counter as Charlie made a noise that was mostly a snicker and even Adam looked amused. "You're not dying, Auntie Ruby."

"Don't sass me, girl! What's wrong with this man that you're hiding him?"

"I'm not hiding him."

"Then bring him for dinner. And stop by your Uncle Gerald's on the way home and get milk."

Uncle Gerald had been dead for ten years. Most of the time Auntie Ruby remembered. Sometimes, she didn't bother. Allie gentled her voice as she said good-bye and hung up.

"Family," she explained, shoving the phone back into her pocket.

Adam snorted, puffing two white streams of smoke. "Tell me about it." "Ryan?" she asked, given the interactions she'd seen.

"My youngest brother."

Which implied: "You have more than one?"

"I have eleven. And a sister."

Twelve Dragon Lords. And a... female Dragon Lord. A baker's dozen of Dragon Lords. She could practically hear Charlie thinking it. "They're all... here?"

"No, not all. Just my brothers."

Twelve Dragon Lords. Allie couldn't see how the word just applied any more than the word merely that Roland had objected to. "Why?"

Adam shrugged, the movement as elegant as every other movement he'd made. "I think you know why. The man who wears your mark also wears the mark of sorcery.You have spoken to his master."

Not a question, but she answered it anyway. "Yes."

"He has probably told you we are hunting him. But that is no concern of yours. A family matter. I'm sure you understand."

If there was one thing a Gale understood, it was how family matters were no concern of anyone outside the family. Allie didn't much like being on the other side of the fence.

Twitching a cuff into place, Adam met her gaze. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me where he is?"

"No."

"I could force you."

"And bring my family into this? If you were going to do that, you'd have done it last night."

"True. You are correct in assuming we do not want your... aunties involved." His expression was almost fond and Allie had no intention of asking why.

"The sorcerer says you're hunting him to stop him from preventing one of his enemies from coming through. So this enemy must be some kind of 'big bad'..."

He narrowed his eyes at the air quotes.

"... to be giving you orders."

"Some kind of big bad?" His chuckle lifted the hair on the back of her neck. "Oh, Gale girl, hope the big bad never decides to visit. It would take more than sorcery to prevent disaster. What is on its way is, in comparison, a little bad." A pause to remove nonexistent lint from his lapel, and when he looked up again, his eyes were hooded, alien, and his voice had picked up the hint of a hiss. "The sorcerer's painful death is the one thing all my brothers and I agree on. However, although each of us would happily roast his organs within his living body, if he swears to stay hidden in his coward's lair, we are willing to ignore his very existence until after the 'little bad' is dealt with."

A Dragon Lord sketching air quotes back at her was fairly close to being entirely too weird.

"And the little bad is?"

"Not commanding us, that much I will tell you. The rest, Gale girl, is as I said, a family matter."

Whatever the family matter was, it was important enough for them to agree to ignore an enemy-Stanley Kalynchuk-in order to deal with it. Allie frowned. If Kalynchuk was the one thing the Dragon Lords agreed on and their enmity was also a family matter...

The same family matter?

"I can almost smell you thinking." The hiss moved toward a growl. "Do not be too clever, Alysha Gale."

Auntie Elsa liked to use that warning. And that tone.

"Tell the sorcerer what I have told you. He will live a little longer if he continues to cower. Or tell the man you have borrowed from him and have him pass on the word. But for now," he added before she could take issue with the word borrowed, "shall we deal with the actual reason for my visit?" And once again, he became more Lord than Dragon. "I am here to discover exactly why you got my attention so charmingly last night."

"Last night?" Right. Before Graham. Chalk on pavement. Ebony and gold. Charmingly? Right. "I wanted to ask you to stop burning buildings down."

"Why?"

"Why did I want to ask you or why did I want you to stop burning buildings down?"

"Yes." His smile was wicked. Behind her, Charlie murmured, "Holy fuck," and Allie had to agree. The longer she remained in close proximity, the stronger the attraction. Still managing not to hump his leg, though.

Drawing her tongue over dry lips, she tried not to notice that his eyes followed the movement. "I live here-that's why I wanted to ask you. Whatever you think you're doing, in the end it's nothing more than mindless destruction. Okay, maybe not mindless," she corrected when his brows lifted, "but it's petty."

"Did you just call me petty?"

"No." The air around him smelled slightly singed. "I'm calling your actions petty."

"Petty seems a bit..."

Stupid? Allie's brain supplied during the pause.

"... harsh." He twitched the other cuff into place. "But you're right; we had no reason for the destruction. We were bored and spreading fire only to see if we could flush the coward from his den. My apologies if we destroyed property your family claims."

"You didn't."

"Then I take back my apology. Particularly as our efforts had such unexpectedly pleasant results. I must say, I'm well on the way to being no longer bored." He shifted his weight back on his heels. Allie braced herself, but he only folded his arms. "Now tell me, Alysha Gale, why we should we stop burning this city-which is not yet yours-just because you ask?"

"Because I ask."

"That's it?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Yes, that's it."

"Really?"

"Really."

Adam leaned closer, and his nostrils flared. Holding her ground with everything she had, Allie saw a flash of gold in his eyes. "It's like that," he said thoughtfully. "Very well. Although not all my brothers are likely to listen to me."

She let out a long breath as he leaned away again and managed a fairly steady, "Family."

"Indeed. And speaking of family..." Adam's nostrils flared again as he looked past her, at Charlie. "I smell the wild lands on this one.You'll never quite tame her."

Allie turned and grinned at Charlie's affronted expression. "I'll never quite want to."

"Wise. Well, I think we have reached the end of the second measure. I thank you for the dance." He was at the door before she saw him move. A glance at Charlie's face reassured her she wasn't the only one taken by surprise. "Stay out of this, Alysha Gale. The man is not worth your family and mine coming to blows. Although..." This smile was almost speculative. "... I would like a chance to watch you burn."

He opened the door, devolved into a flash of ebony and gold and a wind that flipped a passing SUV onto its side where it lay with horn honking and wheels turning, intermittently visible through the steam rising off the wet sidewalk.

Graham woke alone in an unfamiliar bed, but the sheets beside him retained enough warmth he assumed he'd had company until recently. He felt slightly divorced from his body, like his thoughts were isolated in a bubble in his head-the lingering effects of some serious painkillers. He remembered the Dragon Lords, the hospital, and his last clear memory involved arguing with Allie's assumption that her home was safer than his.

Evidence suggested he'd lost the argument by losing consciousness. Or, given all the red paint and draped velvet he could just barely make out in the diffuse light coming through lace-covered French doors, Allie'd split the difference and rented the bordello room at a fantasy suites hotel.

One of the doors had been left open about ten centimeters. He held his breath, and listened. Paper rustling-quietly, so as not to wake him. The faint smell of toast and coffee. Allie. Probably reading the newspaper while waiting for him to wake up and call out.

Lying back and letting a beautiful woman take care of him was a significantly more attractive proposition than admitting he'd made a stupid, rookie mistake and let his heart rule his head, but unless he wanted to hide out here for the rest of his natural life, it would be best to get it over with. The longer his boss spent waiting for the details, the worse the debrief would be.

He wasn't wearing his watch-he wasn't wearing anything but yesterday's boxers and a torso wrap. Movement reminded him of why. Cracked ribs came with distinct pain wrapped around every breath. Experience reminded him that sitting up would a bad idea, so he rolled to the edge of the mattress-not a great idea in and of itself-and let gravity take his feet to the floor. With his legs spread for stability, he used the bed to haul himself erect.

Some of his clothes had been tossed onto an ancient overstuffed red velvet chair. No sign of his weapons, but his watch and phone were on the corner of the dresser. He slid the former on and powered up the latter. Ten forty-three. No signal.

Not likely.

But it raised the odds that he was in Allie's apartment. He'd never been able to get a signal in the store although he'd seen both Allie and her grandmother use their phones.

Teeth clenched, he dragged on his jeans. His T-shirt and sweater were missing, so he shrugged his shirt on over the bandages and, after getting it more or less buttoned, settled his jacket over that. Socks might just kill him, so he shoved bare feet into his boots, then held his breath and sweated as he tied them off tightly enough to support the swelling.

"There's impact damage to your ankles, your right knee's swollen but functional..."

Allie's voice in memory, listing his injuries.

He wouldn't be dancing out of here, but hobbling out beat the alternative.

Ten fifty-four.

Not bad, all things considered.

Right arm tucked tight against his body, he pushed open the nearer door and stepped into what seemed to be living room, dining room, and kitchen combined. The area looked more like a loft conversion than a historic property. Rain spattered against the windows, reflected light making the day look grim and unappealing. A brown-haired man in a striped sweater vest sat with his back to him at an enormous table covered in papers.

When he stumbled over a duffel bag and clutched at the back of the nearer sofa to keep from slamming to the floor, the man turned. Looked surprised to see him.

"What are you doing out of bed?"

Ah. Not surprised to see him. Surprised to see him up.

Sweater Vest stood, frowning. "Seriously, you're lucky to be alive. Dragon Lords aren't known for their restraint. I'm amazed you came out of the experience with nothing worse than a couple of cracked ribs."

"And a punctured lung."

"You have a punctured lung?"

"Had. Allie fixed it." The expression on Sweater Vest's face spoke volumes. "Guess she didn't mention that."

"She said she took you to the hospital."

"Yeah, after." After he'd lost consciousness. "Where is she?"

"She's uh..." Sweater Vest glanced down at his hands and up again. "... busy."

She had a life. She had a business. She had her nose stuck into things that didn't concern her. But, that said, there was a whole lot of subtext Graham didn't like in that word. He doubted she was in the bathroom. "Busy?"

"I'm her cousin," Sweater Vest continued. "Roland."

"The lawyer?"

"That's right."

"Well, okay, Roland..." Who clearly had no intention of telling him what Allie was busy doing. "... tell her thanks for getting me patched up, that I'm sorry I missed her, and I'll call. Right now," he added, shuffling along the back of the sofa as he moved at his fastest pace toward the door. "I have things I have to do."

Roland cut him off. But, in all fairness, since his right knee looked like a rotting melon, his fastest pace was shit.

"Get out of my way."

"Sorry." And damn if Roland didn't fold his arms. "But Allie doesn't want you to leave."

"And I appreciate that she's probably worried, but..." The guy didn't look like much-like most lawyers, he probably spent most of his time at a desk-but he couldn't be moved. Graham shoved a little harder. Roland lowered his head, kind of tucked it between his shoulders, and rocked in place. "Get the fuck out of my way."

"You're already injured. I don't want to fight you." A bit of his steel in his voice, and something else. Frustration, maybe.

"Good. Because I don't intend to fight you." Graham took most of his weight on his left leg, shifted, and threw himself over the back of the sofa. Rolled. Came up fast but careful, protecting his injured side, left foot back on the floor first. Took two steps toward the door and found himself facing the immovable object again.

Damn if Roland didn't have some unexpected moves under the sweater vest. But so did he. His left arm still worked. Get him in close enough. Elbow to the side of the head. Make it to the door while he was down. Except Roland wouldn't move in close enough. Like he knew.

"How much do you actually know about our family?"

Hello, non sequitur. "What?"

"Seriously, if you're involved with Allie, there are things you should know."

"Involved?"

He shrugged. "I'm not married to the word. What would you call it?"

Bewitched? Bothered? Bewildered? Even to his own ears his laugh sounded off, and Graham glanced up in time to see the flash of sympathy in Roland's eyes. Fuck that, he wasn't going there with her cousin. "Involved will do." He sighed. "All right, I take your quiz and I get the hell out of here. The women in your family are dangerous in groups-and they get more dangerous as they get older. The men... Well, there aren't as many of you, and you've clearly got hidden depths."

"We choose."

"What?"

"We choose."

"Yeah, I heard you. What do you choose."

This had to be the first time he'd seen a lawyer blush. "Sorry. The women. We choose the women."

"For what?"

The blush deepened.

"Oh. Well, good for you. What happens if they don't like your choice?"

"That never happens."

"Never?"

Roland shook his head-looking a little smug, the bastard. "The aunties keep the lines from getting too close and..."

Graham cut him off with a raised hand. "Way more about your family than I need to know. Seriously. I'll just finish up my Gale family 101 and book it, shall I? The whole family's pretty much unable to cope with anyone else having power. And when I say, unable to cope, I mean viciously unable."

"Not having. Holding."

"Yeah, whatever. Potato, potahto." Interesting he wasn't arguing about the vicious part. "Thanks for playing, I'll see myself out."

Roland sighed. "Allie doesn't want you to leave."

"Look, Allie..." And then the lightbulb went off. "You do what the women tell you."

"No. Yes. If we haven't chosen." He rubbed at the faint scar along the edge of his jaw. "It's complicated."

"Seems simple enough to me."

"Why did you take that shot last night?" When Graham didn't answer immediately, he spread his hands. "Complicated."

Fucking Christ, he couldn't believe this was happening. "I'm not getting past you, am I?"

"In your condition, no. If you were healthy..."

"I'd knock you on your ass."

"Maybe."

The bastard's smile had turned distinctly speculative.

His boss knew he was alive-the glyphs provided basic information that couldn't be shut off-and he probably had a damned good idea of where he was given that the only other place in the city able to isolate him so completely was inside Catherine Gale's wards. Not that it mattered since Stanley Kalynchuk would not ride to the rescue of the man he paid to rescue him-for a broad definition of rescue. His boss believed in a distinct adherence to job descriptions. And that was ignoring the certainty that if he left the office, he was dragon chow. If he was lucky. "How long is Allie going to be busy?"

"Hard to say. There's a Dragon Lord in the store."

Graham glanced down. He couldn't stop himself. The floor remained opaque. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It's not what you think."

"You don't know what I think."

"You're concerned about the possibility of Allie making a deal with your employer's enemy. Perhaps agreeing to turn your employer over to them. She isn't. She just wants them to stop burning the city down while they're waiting for the inevitable confrontation. That was what she intended to speak to them about last night, but you interrupted. I don't know why he's here, but I do know that's what she's telling him."

"She's dictating terms to a Dragon Lord?" Why not? She'd clearly dealt with both Dragon Lords out on the street last night, armed with a piece of sidewalk chalk, his dumbass heroics unnecessary. He rubbed his temples. "Meds?"

Roland shook his head as he walked over to the table and picked up a prescription bottle of pills. "You shouldn't be up and walking around."

"That's not what gave me the headache," Graham muttered. He thought about making a run for the door but figured he'd had enough futility for one morning.

"You're supposed take these with food.You want some breakfast?"

"I want to get out of here."

"How about some toast?"

"I don't want any fucking t..."

"What?"

"Nothing." How hard had he hit his head? As Allie's cousin passed the mirror over the sink, Graham could have sworn he'd caught a glimpse of antlers branching out above his reflection.

"He'd like a chance to watch you burn?"

"I think it was a compliment. Man, those pigeons are never going to come out from under that newspaper box."

"Allie..."

"I mean dragons flying over are one thing-but a Dragon Lord landing, that's something else again. I wonder what the people who saw him are telling themselves? Denial, right; more than just a river in Egypt. And those marks on the outside of the door? He could have made them, couldn't he? Spacing seems right although I have to admit, I wasn't exactly measuring his claws last night. Or if not him, one of his brothers."

"Allie!"

She turned away from the window and the lights and sirens and the guy from the tipped SUV screaming at someone to see that Charlie hadn't moved from her place behind the counter. And was frowning somewhat egregiously.

"Allie, what the hell is going on?"

Allie frowned back at her. Charlie wasn't usually this dense. "Whatever's coming through, the Dragon Lords consider it a family matter and are here to attend to it."

"No shit, I got that part."

"And Kal... the sorcerer..." Sorcerers weren't named. She knew better than that. Adam must have left her more distracted than she'd thought. "... he's a part of it. I mean, more than just 'this is an enemy of his' part of it. He's part of the whole family matter that Adam wants us to stay out of. Graham's involved as long as he works for him, and I don't think I can get him to quit in the next couple of days unless I change his mind for him."

Charlie's eyes narrowed. "So change it."

"No." She wouldn't for Michael. She wouldn't for Graham.

"That's what I thought." Charlie sighed and rubbed at a red welt across her palm, probably made by that case she'd been holding so tightly while Adam was in the store. "You barely reacted when Adam touched you, and I bet the sorcerer barely got your panties damp. Which leads me back to my original question: what the hell is going on here?"

"With me and Graham?"

"He's got the family involved with a sorcerer and a dozen Dragon Lords, so yeah, with you and Graham."

Allie moved away from the front of the store, in behind the first set of shelves. She picked at a tangle of power cords, poked a finger into a bowl of lanyards, and finally said, "I don't know."

"Well, does anyone? Because I'm willing to ask around."

"Charlie..."

"Twelve Dragon Lords, Allie." She slapped her hand down on the counter. Allie jumped. "All twelve of them right here in River City with a capital D that rhymes with T that stands for fucked. Plus a sorcerer. Who you're hiding from the Dragon Lords. And something dangerous coming through from the UnderRealm."

"But just a little bad."

"To a Dragon Lord!"

Who'd put their egg in something that looked like an open mouth? she wondered, straightening a row of novelty egg cups. "He plans on having Graham shoot them."

Charlie took a moment to connect the dots. "The sorcerer plans on having Graham shoot the Dragon Lords?"

"Yeah."

"Ignoring the fact he's too out of it to shoot a water pistol right now, what are your plans?"

She shoved the offending egg cup to the back of the shelf and turned to face her cousin. Maybe it was time to actually have plans. "I plan to have Graham get through this in one piece, I plan to keep the city from burning down, I plan to do what I can to keep David from being tied down because some people are afraid of him, and I plan to keep the aunties out of things as long as possible because they've never gone along with any plan but their own."

Charlie smiled. "There we go."

"Interesting desk."

Michael had paperwork spread out over the car and was bent at an awkward angle trying to get a good look at it. He straightened, one hand against his lower back when Allie came into the garage. "Are you kidding? With seven tradesmen and a leprechaun in the loft..." He paused as the constant banging got temporarily louder. "... there's no room to spread out a paint chip let alone deal with subcontracts."

"Well, it won't free up much room, but I need Joe back. Charlie's decided to get her hair dyed red." She glanced back over her shoulder, twisting so she could see the second-floor windows. "And I have to check on Graham."

"The loft's coming along great, Allie, we'll be ready for the furniture tomorrow. Thanks for asking."

Michael wasn't smiling when she turned to face him again. He didn't look angry or hurt, but he did look uncharacteristically serious.

"I'm sorry. I'm just..." When she couldn't finish, he rolled his eyes, and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her. Allie laid her head against his shirt and listened to his heart beat. If there was a place she felt safer, she hadn't found it.

Except...

Something was off.

She thought at first maybe he'd added a little more muscle, but that wasn't it. Her charm, her mom's charm, Charlie's charm-all there. And he smelled the same, although the drywall dust made her sneeze.

"Allie, did you just wipe your nose on my pocket?"

"Hey, you should be thrilled to get my snot on your plaid."

And then she realized: it didn't hurt anymore.

The pain of not having Michael, of knowing she would never have Michael-no happily ever after and never having enough room in the bed and ridiculously tall children with slanted fox eyes-had been with her for so long its absence should have left some kind of a void.

The total absence of void was a bit unsettling.

When she looked up, he was smiling down at her. "Does he make you happy?"

"Who?"

"The short violent dude you're having a little mental freak about."

"Can't think who you mean."

He squeezed her hard enough to make her squeak, and when he released her, she laughed-tried to laugh, it didn't actually work that well-and said, "We have a dozen Dragon Lords hanging around, something even they believe is dangerous coming through from the UnderRealm although they're just a little short of sharing details, and there's a sorcerer in town I haven't told the aunties about. And you think Graham's on the top of my list of things to freak about?"

"I know you," he said quietly against her hair, his breath warm and comforting. "I know you better than anyone knows you. Even Charlie. I watched you with him last night.You're going to present him to the aunties."

"Okay, there's something there, sure, but I haven't even known him for a week!"

"Doesn't matter."

"Michael that's..." When muscles flexed in his arms, she stopped. Thought about it for a moment. Closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Realized why there was absence of void. Thought about a future without Graham in it. Sneezed again. "Oh, my God, I am going to present him to the aunties. How could you know that?You haven't even met him when he's conscious!"

"I know you," he said again. "Also my people are wise in matters of the heart." She felt him stiffen. "Okay, wise in the matters of other people's hearts. People we aren't expecting to be faithful to us."

Allie wanted to suggest that maybe he should give Brian a chance to explain except... "Did he know you were coming by? Because, everything else aside, if he thought he was going to get caught, he'd have never done something so stupid."

"Didn't look like he cared."

"Maybe the light reflecting off the moons of Jupiter got in his eyes, and he thought it was you." She could understand why Michael couldn't put everything else aside, but Brian had been either stupid or unbelievably cruel and neither quite fit.

"Allie."

"Sorry."

"Besides, we're not talking about the wreck of my love life, we're talking about the start of yours. When'll you take him home?"

Home. The thought of Graham and home, together, made it hard to think clearly. "Well, he has to choose, of course."

"Formality. He's nuts about you."

"You could tell that by the way his bruises were rising?" Allie snorted.

"I can tell because of how he got those bruises." He kissed the top of her head. "It's a guy thing."

"So he chooses, and I take him to the aunties just as soon as he's not working for a sorcerer or that sorcerer is redeemed by stopping the something dangerous in a way I can make look altruistic."

"Or the sorcerer gets killed by the Dragon Lords for trying to stop the something dangerous."

"That could happen. But it wouldn't necessarily be a good thing since Graham's likely to feel he has to avenge him."

She felt his chuckle more than she heard it. A deep rumble in his chest that made her think of tigers purring. "I'll sit on him for you. He's not so tough without that big gun and the small gun and the knife and the other knife and whatever that thing in his pocket was. Also, he's got two broken ribs and he's shrimpy. I can take him."

There was really only one thing she could say to that. "Thank you."

Graham was dressed when Allie got up to the apartment and sitting in one of the brown velvet armchairs. He brushed pale crumbs off his dark shirt when he saw her and heaved himself up onto his feet. He'd gotten most of his color back although the easy grace that used to define his movements would be a longer time coming. His eyes were half closed. His hair was a little greasy. He really wasn't very tall.

But she wanted to walk into the circle of his arms and stay there.

She wanted him to say something because she couldn't get enough of the way his voice stroked against her skin.

She wanted to fillet a Dragon Lord for having injured him.

She wanted to bake him pie.

And she was going to present him to the aunties.

They didn't always let outside lines breed in, and she wasn't sure if her father's blood made another outsider a better or worse proposition.

"The man is not worth your family and mine coming to blows."

Except he was.

"You didn't want me to leave. All right, fine, I'm here." He hobbled over to face her. "And you've proved you can keep me here. You're badass; if I didn't pick that up last night, I get it now."

It took her a moment to find her voice and she didn't manage anything close to articulate. "What?"

Graham shook his head, like he couldn't believe her response, like he couldn't believe she didn't understand exactly what his problem was. She had no idea what his problem was. "You told your cousin not to let me leave."

Why was that a problem? "You're hurt..."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not!"

"All right, I'm not." A muscle jumped in his jaw at the edge of a bruise. "But that's not your call to make. You don't get to run my life. For God's sake, Allie, I've known you for less than a week!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Maybe his meds had him confused. Or the pain. He was probably still in a fair bit of pain. "We're good together."

"You had me held prisoner in your fucking apartment!" A half gesture with his left arm, like maybe she'd forgotten where they were standing. "That's not good. That's not even some weird ass codependent definition of good."

"But we..."

"There is no we!"

"But last night..."

"Was a mistake."

Allie stared down at her hand. She'd reached for Graham's arm, but he'd jerked back and now her hand was just there. Between them. Curling her fingers in, she pulled it back to her side, wet her lips, and looked up. "A mistake?"

"You don't need me to protect you." He threw the words at her.

This was all going wrong, but she wasn't sure how. "Well, no, but if you choose..."

"To leave."

"What?"

"I chose to leave, Allie. Found out I couldn't. How about now?"

"Now?"

"If I choose to leave now, do you stop me?"

"Well, he has to choose, of course."

"Formality. He's nuts about you."

Wow. When Michael was wrong, he was really, really wrong. "No." She laced her fingers together to stop them from trembling. Stupid fingers. "I don't want you to go, but if that's your choice, I won't stop you."

"That's my choice."

"Your truck is parked in the alley." Allie could barely hear Roland's voice although he was suddenly standing beside her. "Charlie drove it home. Drove it here." Because here wasn't his home. Allie clamped down hard on the thought. "Your weapons are in the car. In the garage.You sure you're fit to drive?"

The breath he took wasn't exactly steady, but he didn't look back as he grabbed his jacket up off the chair and headed for the door. "I've driven in worse shape."

Allie stopped herself from going after him, but only just.

As he left Michael sidled past him and came into the apartment. He looked at Graham's back, at Allie's face, and said, "That's it. He's a dead man."

Roland grabbed his sleeve. "He made his choice. You know how it works."

"Does he?" Hope made it hard for her to breathe.

"Allie?"

"Does he know how it works?" There was a chance. He'd said the words, but how could it count as ritual if he didn't understand? "Does he know?"

"We talked," Roland sighed, an apology in the exhale. "He knows the men choose."

"Oh." She could feel the ritual wrap around her like Auntie Jane's fingers wrapped around her wrist-unbreakable and uncaring. "Well, that's that, then." She waved off Michael's reaching hand and headed for the kitchen.

"Allie? You okay?"

"I'm fine."

She had a house full of family, and pies didn't make themselves.

Charlie moved closer to the wall as Graham stomped off the bottom step and hauled ass toward the back door. Still shaking off the lingering effects of the Dragon Lord's power, she took a moment to appreciate the view. He was taller when he was conscious and Allie was right, those eyes were an amazingly attractive blue even when surrounded by bruising and narrowed in a distinctly pissy scowl. "What climbed up your butt and died?"

"Ask your cousin," he growled, yanking the door open, velvet voice rough.

"You knew she was a Gale when you started seeing her," Charlie snorted at his back. "Don't blame her if you're not tall enough for the ride. Okay, fine," she added as the door slammed and the mirror showed her standing with her elbow resting on the top of Graham's head. "The height comment might have been a little tactless."

Anger kept him moving across the courtyard, out into the garage for his gear, and, with his weapons wrapped in his vest, out into the alley for his truck. If she'd started with an apology. If she'd even realized how much she'd overreacted by locking him up like a... like a pet not trusted in traffic. Like one of those little lap dogs that needed to be protected. He didn't realize just how angry he'd been until she didn't seem to understand why he should have a problem with it.

There was another little spurt of anger when he found his keys dangling in the ignition. But hey, the Gales probably didn't have to worry about car theft. Probably had charms that sent potential car thieves straight to the police babbling confessions in the hope that a raving gang of little old ladies didn't suddenly appear and force pie on them.

Pain kept the anger hot as he drove. Too goddamned many potholes. Shifting was a bitch.

It faded a little when he took a moment to pull his thoughts together parked in his spot behind the office.

This was going to be a killer debrief.

Hard to justify what he'd done to the boss. How he'd reacted.

Roland rubbed the faint scar along the edge of his jaw."It's complicated."

Yeah. No shit.

If the Dragon Lord had killed Allie, the old women would have flocked to the city. It had been established beyond a doubt that old women in the city before the emergence, at the same time as the Dragon Lords, would most likely be fatal. He took the shot thinking he was preventing that.

Except...

He hadn't been thinking at all.

Not thinking of consequences. Or responsibilities. Not thinking of anything but keeping Allie safe.

And, God help him, it didn't matter that he'd known her for less than a week, he'd make the same choice again.

Complicated.

"The men choose."

"I don't want you to go, but if that's your choice, I won't stop you."

That wasn't...

He hadn't...

He fumbled his phone out of his pocket. "I had every goddamned right to be angry," he muttered.

"You knew she was a Gale when you started seeing her."

What if he chose to change his mind?

The number he had for her connected him with a library in Kamloops.

And a bar in Hamilton.

And a grocery store in St. Johns.

"You idiot!" The overhead lights flickered and the air in Kalynchuk's office smelled of copper and ash. "If I'd wanted them to know of your existence, I'd have had you taking potshots at them as they arrived!"

Graham kept his eyes on the desk. Experience had taught him that meeting a sorcerer's gaze when he was angry was painfully stupid. "At least we know for certain they have to trace the shot to find me. I'll have one free shot, then I'll start firing at anything that comes too close."

"You'll take as many shots as you need to destroy the creature!"

"I'll only need one."

"You missed last night."

"He changed as I pulled the trigger. I know how to compensate for that now." Which was a damned good thing since there was no way to tell what shape the boss' enemy would be wearing when he emerged. The dragon would be easier to hit but harder to kill.

Just at the edge of his vision, blunt fingers drummed on an open copy of The Western Star. "So you're saying last night was a trial run?"

"I'm saying we can apply what I learned last night to raise our chance of success at the emergence."

"Can we?"

There were dark stains up under the two fingernails Graham could see. It was likely another pigeon had come too close to the trap on the window while he was gone. "Yes."

"Then it's convenient you decided to betray me for that Gale girl."

"If she'd been killed, her family would have arrived to investigate."

"So you did it to protect me from old women?"

The sarcasm pulled his head up although he locked his gaze on the calendar the Oriental House Restaurant & Lounge over on 8th had sent to the paper last Christmas. "No. I did it to protect her." In all the years he'd worked for Kalynchuk, he'd never lied to him; he wasn't about to start now. "But it also protected you."

The sorcerer snorted. "Convenient. The question becomes, how do I know I can depend on you? The odds are good that the next time you do something stupid for her, it won't benefit me."

"Why are you smiling?"

"You did something stupid for me." Bending forward, she kissed him gently.

Both his ankles throbbed in time to his pulse. The support from his boots was all that kept him standing. "I ended it this morning."

"Ended it? I don't think so. If you'll recall, your relationship with her is my insurance policy."

"It wasn't a relationship, you said so yourself."

"And you're not a thirteen-year-old girl!" Kalynchuk snapped. "Keep her interested in what you can do with your dick, don't take her shopping for curtains! She's a Gale; they don't believe in hearts and flowers unless the heart's on a plate and the flowers have thorns! Go back there and apologize. I want her under surveillance."

"It's not that simple."

"It is if I tell you it is."

Graham noted the warning, but he'd already worked out how to make it simple enough for his boss to accept. "The Dragon Lords have her under surveillance. One of them was in the store this morning."

"In the store? While you were in the apartment?"

"She was asking them not to burn down the city while we're all waiting for the inevitable confrontation."

"You're certain of that?"

He only had Roland's word for it, but... "Yes."

"Interesting." Kalynchuk started drumming out a new rhythm, a little slower. A lot more speculative. "In the store today after she chased them off you last night. They're clearly amused by her."

The smile in his voice drew Graham's gaze off the calendar to see a matching expression.

"Dragon Lords are like cats, easily bored; amuse them and they're all over you. Catch the attention of one, and the others want to know why. The Gale girl has pulled at least some of their attention off the hunt.You..."

The smile disappeared as a blunt finger stabbed toward Graham. Even with nearly a meter between them, he felt it connect with one of the larger bruises on his collarbone.

"... stay away from the store. Stay away from her. I don't want them noticing you any more than they already have. If they take you out, there's nothing between me and death." Frowning, he gestured at Graham's forehead. "You're still wearing her mark."

He clenched his hands and kept his fists by his side. "I walked out before she could remove it."

"Did you? What happens if she calls and begs you to come back?"

Not likely to happen; she'd honor his choice, but Graham didn't feel like sharing that with his boss. And if he'd known what it meant, could he have walked away from a man who'd given him the world and the skills to make his way in it? The man who'd been there for him when his family had died and... and he never thought about his family. What the hell was up with that?

"I'll make my own decisions," he said at last. "The way I always have."

One dark brow rose. "You've always done what you were told."

"I've always chosen to."

The silence that followed extended long enough, Graham nearly opened his mouth to explain. Nearly. He'd learned that lesson early on, too.

Finally, after what seemed like half a lifetime, Kalynchuk walked to the inner door and paused, hand holding it open about five centimeters. "Well, come on, then," he growled, "you're no good to me hobbling about like an old man. At the very least, I'll need to fix your legs. Should hardly hurt at all."

"That," Graham muttered, reluctantly following, "is what you always say."

The pie should have provided the mindless familiarity Allie needed.

It hadn't.

Given the way her thoughts had been circling, she was a little afraid to have anyone eat it.

Plus, she'd definitely overworked the pastry.

She'd punched in half her mother's number when she realized she had nothing to say.

"I met someone, but he chose to leave."

Could she be any more pathetic? It was like Michael all over again, only this time even the sex hadn't been enough to hold him.

In the end, she headed downstairs to enter the egg cups into her catalog database. Michael went back to the loft, Roland went back to Gran's paperwork, and Joe went back behind the counter in the store. She needed her head to shut up for a while, to stop nattering at her about who and why and how and what she was going to tell David when he got here tomorrow.

At least she wouldn't have to explain about Graham. A sorcerer and twelve Dragon Lords and the imminent arrival of a "little bad" involving all thirteen of them was quite enough.

And she still had no idea of what Gran was up to even though that, not sorcerers, not Dragon Lords, not... reporters, was what she'd come out here for.

Had Gran seen this coming and bailed because she didn't want to deal?

Or had Gran been removed before she could send up flares to the rest of the family?

The Dragon Lords were probably strong enough to hide her death from the aunties-shoving the body through to the UnderRealm would do it. Kalynchuk was strong enough to get himself involved with Dragon Lords and assume he could win-that said power even if he hadn't been in the game very long. As unlikely as it sounded, had Gran discovered and then underestimated him?

It wasn't that Allie wanted her gran to be dead, but if she wasn't, they were going to have words. And if things continued the way they were, some of those words were going to be four letters long.

"Allie?"

She set an egg cup shaped like a panda with the top of its head unevenly trepanned back on the shelf, dusted her fingers against her sleeve, and turned.

Joe rubbed at fingerprints on the glass. "Charlie told me before she left and, well, I'm sorry about you and Graham."

"It's okay." It wasn't, but it was familiar. She stared at the mail cubbies behind his head and frowned. Most of them were full to overflowing. "Why hasn't anyone else come in and picked up their mail?"

"They don't like change. You. Your cousins. You're new. It'll take a while."

"How long is a while?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Don't know. Are you mad at me?" he asked without looking up.

"Should I be?"

"I knew they weren't dragons, that they were Dragon Lords, and I didn't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I thought you knew. It sounded like you knew, didn't it?"

"Then why would I be mad at you?" She sighed. "It's not your fault. We've all come into this, whatever this is, with assumptions."

He looked up then. "I heard your grandmother say once that assumptions makes an ass out of you and of me."

"But not her."

"What?"

"It may make an ass out of you and me, but not her. It's an auntie thing," she added when Joe stared at her in confusion. "Never mind. It doesn't matter what Gran would say because Gran's not here." Sighing again, she saved her file and looked around the store. "Gran's not, but I am."

Actually...

"Allie?"

"Gran's not here. But I am." Allie closed her laptop, set it on the shelf and walked over to the counter. "Bottom line, here and now, this place is mine."

Mine.

The word slid into empty places on the shelves, hung itself by the paintings on the walls, burrowed into boxes of odds and ends, and just generally made itself at home.

"And because this place is mine now..." She grinned, riding the rush as her sudden epiphany stuffed itself into the bleeding hole in her heart. It didn't fill it, it didn't even stop the bleeding, but it was a start. "... there's going to be some changes. Joe, pass me those salad tongs."

"These?" The ends were sticking out of a box of old silver plate. He tugged them free and passed them over.

Allie slid the back of the cabinet open, grabbed the monkey's paw with the tongs, and lifted it out, maintaining a two-handed grip, just in case. "This is not the sort of thing you just have lying around. Or, more specifically, it's not the sort of thing I just have lying around."

The paw squirmed and tried to twist out from between the tarnished silver paddles.

"So, what are you going to do with it, then?"

She stared down the length of her arms, down the length of the tongs at the grubby, gray paw. An excellent question. "You wouldn't know where there's a lead box, would you?"

"Uh..." Joe's gaze darted left and then right, as though there might be one close to hand. "No."

"That sugar bowl, then. It's silver."

"Please don't be using that thing to gesture."

"Sorry."

The sugar bowl looked big enough, but only just. The tongs and the paw wouldn't fit past the rim together, she'd have to drop it in. Joe held the lid as Allie lined things up and let go. The monkey's paw hit the edge of the sugar bowl, slid down the side, and angled off the handle as Allie grabbed for it with the tongs. It bounced once on the counter and rolled under the nearest set of shelves.

"How does something so nonsymmetrical roll like that," Allie muttered, dropping to her knees and peering under the shelves. "Joe, do we have a flashlight?"

"I think I was after seeing one in the garage."

She twisted around to look at him. Apparently he got more Irish when there was an evil, wish-granting, simian amputation rolling around loose.

It took him a moment to catch on. He flushed. "I'll go get it, then."

"Good plan."

Head resting on her outstretched arm, she fished around with the end of the tongs. The paw wasn't technically mobile, so it couldn't move anywhere under its own power. It wasn't like it was going to hide behind a box of glass doorknobs or something. Just to be on the safe side, though, she moved the box out into the aisle.

There was no mistaking the feel of it once she touched it, but there wasn't enough clearance under the shelf to open the tongs.

"Never mind the flashlight," she muttered, without looking up as footsteps stopped beside her. "Just slam that sugar bowl down over it when I knock it clear." She heard the footsteps head for the counter and when they got back she smacked the paw out toward the edge of the shelf. "Get ready!"

Once again, it moved pretty damned fast. Emphasis on damned.

"Joe!" Allie scrambled sideways as it headed straight for her...

... and was cut off and confined by a direct hit from the upturned sugar bowl. She thought she heard it scratching against the inside curve before it subsided in a sulky silence.

Releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Allie looked up.

Way up.

And smiled.

"David?"