“And you know better?”

“Parts of the world are great; parts of the world are garbage. I can’t abide optimism.”

I pointed down. “Those are Snoopy sheets.”

“Snoopy was a realist. Much respect for Snoopy. Woodstock was the asshole.”

I had no response to that.

“You still a T-shirt sleeper?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She gestured me to follow her, and we walked to the other bedroom. Unlike the rest of the space, it was nearly colorless. The walls were pale gray, and there was a low platform bed, the bedspread white with dots of a slightly paler gray. A nightstand held a windup clock, water glass, and magazine. The only thing on the walls was a large painting of the curvy women I realized was her signature style, this time in shades of white, black, and gray.

“Very different look in here,” I said.

“Need it quiet when I sleep, loud when I’m awake.” She slipped around the bed to a gray chest of drawers, pulled one open.

She pulled a bright pink “Magnificent Mile” T-shirt from a drawer and tossed it to me. The tags were still attached.

“Haven’t gotten around to wearing this yet?” I asked, holding it up by the little plastic tie.

She shrugged. “It was in a gift bag, I think, from some deal my mom talked at.”

I walked to the painted canvas. Up close, I could see textures in the paint. Ridges from the brushstrokes. A grid from some sort of plastic embedded in the acrylic. Tiny spikes I really wanted to test with a fingertip. But I knew better than to smear my fingerprints all over her work.

“I like the layers in this one,” I said. “You’re really good.”

“I’m . . . determined,” she said. “I think sometimes that’s more important. Just putting a little bit out there, every day. You do the work or you don’t. The externalities don’t really matter.” She yawned. “The fight wore me out. I’m going to crash hard. I’ll be around tomorrow. I have a commission to finish up before I can go back to the mural. It’s for the Near North library branch.”

“You’re famous.”

“In a very different way than I figured,” she said gravely. “Anyway, I’ll be around.”

I nodded. “I’ll probably go to Cadogan tomorrow. Tell them about the French Houses if they haven’t already heard, see if they’ve got any more information.”

“And you’re cool with doing that on your own?”

“I mean, you’re welcome to be my sidekick anytime. But, yeah, I can manage. You have a painting to finish.”

She seemed relieved. “If you learn anything, let me know.”

“I will.” I walked to the doorway, Eleanor of Aquitaine moving into the bedroom as I headed into the hall. “I really appreciate this, Lulu.”

“Damn right you do.”

SIXTEEN

I was not murdered in my sleep. I couldn’t be sure Steve hadn’t moved in the night—had he been turned toward the bed?—but he hadn’t pushed me into the loft to face the sun, so I wouldn’t complain.

I got dressed and found Lulu with arms and legs akimbo on the bed, her hair spread like a dark halo. I considered waking her up, but figured she could use the rest. She’d fought hard.

And then there was her guard. Eleanor of Aquitaine eyed me suspiciously from the end of the bed. “We don’t have to be friends,” I whispered. “It’s good enough that you’re a friend of hers.”

One tail swish, then she closed her eyes.

I guessed I’d gotten all the time and attention she’d been willing to give.

* * *

• • •

I took an Auto back to the hotel, jumped out half a block before the entrance, and slid into the lobby before the paparazzi realized who I was. I showered and changed clothes, pulling on a green V-neck T-shirt, skinny jeans, and boots, and repacked my one and only suitcase again. Twenty minutes later I was in another Auto, headed to Cadogan House.

I’d done the right thing, asked my parents and Theo to meet me at the House to discuss what had happened the night before, what we’d learned from it, and why I hadn’t violated the Ombuds’ deal.

It was going to be ugly all around. I’d left the hotel early, hoping I could get some time with my parents to warn them about my theory. They’d be angry enough about the fairy visit. Telling them I didn’t consider myself a Cadogan Novitiate wasn’t going to help things.

“It can’t be helped,” I murmured, trying to reassure myself.

“Please repeat command,” the Auto said, in a stiff female voice that tried to thread the needle between comforting and authoritative.

“I didn’t give a command. I was having an emotion out loud.”

“Increase motion sensitivity?”

“No. Do not increase motion sensitivity.” I didn’t even know what that was, but it proved Autos weren’t all created equal. “Continue to destination, please.”

“Continuing to destination.”

I thought about applauding her, but didn’t want to risk it.

* * *

• • •

The House was quiet. There were vampires in the foyer and front parlor, whispering as I walked through. They smiled or offered nods but didn’t speak.

I could feel the Egregore as I got closer to my father’s office, and knew my mother’s sword was there. The monster called to it, trying to push through me to move closer to the magic contained there.

When I stepped into the doorway, the throbbing of power was nearly loud enough to drown out my heartbeat.

It doesn’t matter, I told myself. It can’t matter.

My mother leaned over the conference table and a spread of paper, katana belted at her side over jeans and a black top. My father was at his desk in his typical suit.

“Hey,” she said, standing straight. The word was an echo behind the pulse of magic, and I made myself concentrate on the lingering buzz of power my parents put into the room, which was lighter and brighter than the sword’s.

The monster wasn’t interested in that, so it receded. For now.

“I was just looking over the proposed security updates,” she said, but her smile faded as she squinted, looked at my face. “What happened?” She strode toward me, steel in her eyes. Not just my mother, but Sentinel of Cadogan House.

My father frowned and moved around his desk. “What happened to your face?”

“My face?”

When he reached me, he brushed fingers over my cheek.

Damn. The bruise hadn’t faded completely, and I’d totally forgotten about it. “We’ll get to that.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Will we?”

There was a knock at the threshold. Theo stood in the doorway, Yuen behind him. Yuen wore a dark suit; Theo, jeans and a fitted button-down shirt in pale blue gingham.

I gave Theo a hard look. He was supposed to show up alone, then report back to the Ombuds and save me the trouble of having to face them directly.

And I still hadn’t briefed my father. I opened my mouth to ask them to give us a minute, but Yuen strode inside with fury etched into his face.

“Ruadan called the Ombudsman’s office,” he said, settling angry eyes on my father. “Complained that Elisa visited them, attacked, instigated violence among the fairies.”

My first reaction was fury at the lie, but my father’s gaze—cold and icy—kept me silent. And the seconds that elapsed while he turned that gaze on me seemed to take a lifetime.

“Are you out of your mind?” His words were chilly and as sharp as his gaze. It wasn’t the first time that I’d angered him, and might not be the last. But even at twenty-three, I didn’t care for the feeling.

Then Gabriel stepped into the room, Connor behind him.

“And she was joined by Connor Keene,” Yuen said.

“I guess we’ve come at just the right moment,” Gabriel said, but my father’s eyes stayed on me.

“We didn’t attack the fairies,” I said. “Lulu and I went to the castle to talk to them—just to talk.” I pointed to the fading bruise on my face. “They took a different position.”

“Why did you need to talk to the fairies?” My mother’s eyes had silvered with emotion.

“Because of this.” I pulled out the handkerchief and the pin and handed them to my father. His eyes widened.