The door on the left opened before we could knock. A male fairy in black fatigues looked through. His hair was dark and straight; his body tall and lean. His eyes were dark jewels among his pale, angular features.

“You are a bloodletter,” he said.

“I am,” I said. “She is not.” No need to get into the details about Lulu’s magic if she wasn’t using it. “We’d like to speak to Claudia.”

“Claudia does not commune with bloodletters.”

“Okay,” Lulu said, “then how about you answer a few questions?”

The fairy shifted his gaze to her, his movements methodical and his face expressionless. “You do not have permission to encroach upon our land. And yet you seek to ask us questions.”

“We have come peacefully to your door, and we have questions to ask,” I said. “If you don’t want to answer them, we’ll leave. It’s that simple.”

He looked at me for a moment, and then the door slammed with enough force to blow the hair back from Lulu’s face.

“Friendly,” she murmured, but didn’t take so much as a step backward.

Magic began to pepper the air and my heart began pounding in response, adrenaline beginning to flow. I could feel the monster stirring, a moth drawn to flame.

Not going to happen, I warned it, and pushed down against it. It was like trying to ignore an ache, trying to flex a muscle in spite of it. You could still move, but the pain didn’t go away. And the monster didn’t, either.

“If I’m mortally wounded,” she whispered, “you have my permission to change me. But make sure I get a good room in Cadogan House.”

“Third floor has the best views,” I said, flipping the thumb guard on my katana.

Ten seconds later, both doors opened, and we were beckoned inside.

* * *

• • •

The gatehouse’s walls were as high as a two-story building. The ceiling was open to the sky, to moonlight that speared through to illuminate the stone floor. A second set of double doors mirrored the first and led through the wall.

Torches hung from the walls, sending flickering firelight across the space. But for the snap and sputter of the torches, the room was utterly silent—despite holding nearly a dozen black-clad fairies who stared back at us, all of them holding staffs or straight swords.

They stood in a perfect semicircle, Ruadan in front of them. He wore a tunic today in gleaming emerald, locks of his long, straight hair knotted into complicated braids. Gold filigree gleamed along the edges of his tunic, gold thread had been braided into his hair, and his fingers glowed with rings.

This wasn’t the subdued Ruadan from the reception, the man whose purpose had seemingly been to complement his queen. This looked like a man who’d taken control. And I wondered if it was a coincidence that Claudia wasn’t among the fairies.

“Bloodletter,” he said, in a tone that was equally insulting and curious. But not surprised. He’d either watched our approach or had been informed of it.

He shifted his gaze to Lulu. “And . . . not human.”

“Human enough,” she said, but her voice was quiet.

I moved incrementally closer, so my shoulder bumped hers in a show of support and solidarity.

“Ruadan,” I said. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

“About?”

No point in screwing around, I thought. “About Tomas Cardona. The vampire killed at Cadogan House. Do you know anything about his death?”

“Why would we? He was a bloodletter. Our involvement with bloodletters has been minimal.” But his lips curled into a smile. “You have come into our castle, so perhaps that will change.”

“Our friend was wrongly accused of his murder,” I said. “We’re trying to help him.”

His gaze darkened to storm clouds, and there were quiet murmurs around him in a language I didn’t understand.

“You believe we have information regarding the murder of a bloodletter. Or information that would acquit a shapeshifter.”

“We don’t know. Do you?”

“Be careful you do not put your trust in those who shift and change. Their inconsistency proves they are untrustworthy.”

“Riley didn’t kill Tomas.” Lulu’s voice was hard and certain.

Like a well-oiled gear, Ruadan’s head turned slowly toward Lulu. “Are you making an accusation?”

“No,” she said, and I felt her trembling beside me.

I shouldn’t have let her come, I thought, regret and guilt twisting in my gut. That I shouldn’t have come, either, wasn’t the point. I was immortal, had a biological shield against my own stupidity. She didn’t have the same protection.

The murmurs rose to mutterings, to shifting feet and irritation. The curiosity that had gleamed in Ruadan’s eyes evaporated, and they went hard as stone. Frankly, I preferred the anger to the creepy interest.

Lean jaw clenched, he took a step forward, the scent of astringent herbs lifting into the air around him. “You come into our territory without our permission to inquire if we have committed a crime.”

I took a step forward, trying to draw his attention back to me. “We didn’t ask if you’d committed a crime. But now that you’ve brought it up—did a fairy kill Tomas?”

“You are rude and presumptuous, not that we would expect more of the Others.”

“You’re right,” I said. “It was rude and presumptuous to come here. Murder is also rude. I’ll ask again—did a fairy kill Tomas?”

His eyes flashed and his voice went low. “We killed no one.”

I noted the pin at the neck of his tunic. “Did any of your fairies lose a gold pin, by chance, at Cadogan House?”

He jerked. Covered it quickly, but I’d seen the movement. He might not have known the pin had been lost, but he knew what it meant that it had been found.

“You didn’t know they were sloppy, did you? That they didn’t just kill the vampire, throw magic over Riley, escape over the wall. They left a little something behind.”

“You will return it.”

I shrugged. “Don’t have it,” I said, and was glad I’d thought to leave it in the car, just in case they tried to take it back. “It’s locked safely away.”

“You dare threaten us.”

“No threats. Just questions. And the only way questions could be a threat is if you’re hiding something.”

Ruadan’s jaw worked, as if chewing back angry words. Magic lifted again, this time cold and dark and angry. The mood had changed, and I knew there’d be no more conversation.

I caught movement to my right. The semicircle of fairies was stretching, attempting to surround us. I stood a step backward, and pulled Lulu back with me, just a little closer to the door.

Someone screamed words that were more song than battle cry. They were all fighters, and they all wanted their turn.

My heart began to pound like a war drum, too eager for battle. I wrapped my right hand around the corded handle, ready to draw.

“You’ve gotten more vampirey in my absence,” Lulu murmured behind me.

“Yeah,” I said with a sunny smile. “I’m a regular Dracula. I’m going to distract them, and you’re going to run back to the car.”

“Fuck that,” Lulu said, stepping beside me, rotating her wrist to spin her own blade. “I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

“All right,” I said. “But be careful.”

“No promises.”

I looked back at the fairy in front of me. He was thin like the others, tall and willowy, with dark skin and eyes. The blade of his sword gleamed in the moonlight.

He stepped forward, and I met him. I unsheathed my katana and used it to push his away, then spun it back to slash horizontally across his chest, but didn’t break skin. He jumped back, as spry as he was strong, then came in again with another overhead blow.

I stopped it, but felt the impact echo through my arms.

He lunged. I went low, kicked in a sweep that dropped him to the ground and sent a ripple of disappointment through the crowd of fairies who watched.

He managed to hold on to the sword, flipped onto his feet again. He swung the sword, stepping into it to increase the power. I rotated at the last second, and his blade still whooshed closely enough that I could feel the breeze on my face.

I stayed in the spin, kicked his leg, sent him forward. The fairy pulled his sword up sharply, sent the blade singing against my shin.