 
# Tithes

### Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #3

## Claire Farrell

### Contents

Introduction

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Claire Farrell

# Introduction

Tithes

Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #3

* * *

By Claire Farrell

Edited by Red Adept Editing

* * *

Ava's been trying to help her past and her future co-exist, but when it all goes wrong, she's barely able to take a breath when the next drama begins, and she begins to wonder about her string of bad luck.

Tensions are already running high when evidence of slavery appears on Ava's doorstep, quickly followed by an unwelcome blast from the past with news that forces her to rethink where her trust lies.

The only thing Ava knows for sure is that it's time to finish cleaning up the mess that started with Fionnuala because bad luck is catching, and everyone she cares about is affected.
**Copyright © Claire Farrell**

Claire_farrell@live.ie

* * *

Cover by Yocla Designs

* * *

_All Rights Reserved._

 Created with Vellum 

# 1

Sun filtered through the curtains, highlighting the CDs on the floor. I pushed another stack toward Emmett's piles. "You can check those, too."

He made a face but continued to open boxes to make sure that the right CD was inside and wasn't irreparably scratched. "Why are we even doing this?"

I blew dust off my hands. Most of the boxes had been stuck under the stairs since I'd moved in. "I want to sort them out before I send them over to the children's home. I don't need them anymore, so I might as well donate them."

He frowned. "But why?"

I switched two CDs into the right boxes. For someone as OCD as I could be, I was terrible at keeping things organised or, more likely, at keeping Carl out of my stuff. "Alanii's taste in music is so bad that I want the kids to at least have a chance to listen to something decent." I nudged him. "I'm such a good person, right?"

"I meant why do you not need them?" He pushed the CDs away and stared at his hands. "Don't you like them anymore?"

The room darkened as a cloud covered the sun, and I had the sense we weren't really talking about CDs. "Not needing something doesn't mean I don't like it anymore," I said carefully. "Anyway, these are just taking up space because I have all the songs on my computer anyway."

Emmett glanced at the computer, unable to keep a suspicious look from marring his features. "Everything's so complicated. Even that thing seems like magic."

"Not magic. Just technology." I shrugged. "Which makes everything seem like magic, I suppose."

"There's a kid at school who can make computers do anything he likes," he said after a moment. "Before... he wasn't valuable because _they_ didn't realise what he could do. They didn't test him with a computer, or he would have been sold. Where would he be now?"

_Before_ meant when he lived in a slave market. "I don't know," I said. "But when somebody pays a lot of money for something, they usually treat it extra carefully." That was a lie, but there was no point dwelling on the dark possibilities. To Emmett, little could be worse than living as a slave in Hell. He didn't need new nightmares. "I had half-forgotten you knew some of the kids already."

"Only a few." He went back to work on the CDs. "We weren't supposed to make friends, and I didn't like most of them."

I thought of a certain teen witch and nodded. "I'm not surprised."

"At least Ari's around," he said brightly. "School's not so bad with her there."

That floored me. "Ari? The witch? You... like her?"

"We all love Ari," he said, sounding surprised. "She took care of us, of _me_ , back then. Protected us from... stuff. She still does."

"You must know Noah then."

"Oh, I hate him." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm glad he's not at the school."

Weirdly, I had the opposite reactions to that particular couple.

A car beeped outside, and I jumped to my feet. "Here they are."

Emmett lingered by the coffee table. "Should I put these with the others in the hall?"

"I'll do it later." I realised he wasn't looking forward to seeing the visitors. "Hey, you'll have fun today. It's good to make friends, remember?"

"But he's so _weird_ ," he whined.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. "Trust me. So are we. Come on. It's not his fault he's different."

"Nobody likes the werewolves," he complained, but he followed me to the front door. "And the fur balls hate everyone else."

"Give the fur ball a chance." I shoved him outside.

I blinked rapidly in the sudden light. Ireland was going through an unprecedented heat wave. The last thing I wanted to do was stand outside to watch three sulky kids eye each other with suspicion, but I had agreed to the weird playdate thing—I had even gone out of my way to persuade the reluctant parents—and couldn't back out now. And maybe there was a teeny, tiny chance that I just didn't want to disappoint Phoenix.

The fae prince stepped out of his car and smiled at me. I grinned back, my heart skipping a little at the sight of him. Ever since he had almost died in front of me—and since he'd kissed me, too—I hadn't been able to ignore my fondness for him. I had fed him my blood to save his life, and he hadn't been repulsed. He was one of the few people who accepted me just the way I was, without being initially freaked out by my heritage. The warmth from that acceptance hadn't faded.

I glanced at Emmett and noticed he was staring at me. "What?"

"Nothing," he said sullenly.

My neighbour's preteen daughter was already skipping out of her garden to greet Phoenix and the obviously reluctant werewolf cub. The boy took a couple of steps back as Dita approached, her pale-blond hair glistening in the sunlight, and I was pretty sure that Phoenix's hand gripping his shoulder was the only reason he didn't run.

Nick was maybe twelve, and in his human form, tall and scrawny. Roughly cut sandy-coloured hair curled around the nape of his neck, and his hooded green eyes made him look suspicious of everything. The young werewolf's gaze darted in every direction as though he were expecting an attack. That wasn't surprising. He had been shot by a drunk human nearly three months ago, so I couldn't blame him for being skittish. And I felt sorry for him. He looked like a victim, and it sounded as though he were having a hard time in school still.

Anka was walking slowly toward Phoenix when we reached the group, her bare arms crossed over her chest. "And this is safe," she said, frowning at the boy.

"They'll be fine," I said. "They're just kids, Anka. Look at him."

She gave me a noncommittal grunt. "I'll be inside. They can come for snacks and drinks, if they wish." She left us alone.

The children stood in an awkward disconnected triangle. Dita narrowed her eyes at Emmett. When he didn't move, she grumbled under her breath then reached out to Nick. He flinched.

She ignored that. "We could play football."

I sensed rather than saw Emmett open his mouth, and for fear he was going to repeat the stupid joke about playing fetch he had cracked that morning, I clamped my hand over his mouth and lowered my mouth to his ear. "Be nice, kid."

He shrugged me off and folded his arms, but his glare was focused on Phoenix, who had moved to my side.

At Dita's beckoning command, the boys shuffled a few steps closer to her then stopped, looking stubborn.

Phoenix stood silently by my side, his hands in his pockets and his thin lips pressed together. "What's wrong with them?"

"They take time to warm up."

Dita reached out to the werewolf and said something I missed. Nick gave Phoenix a panicked look. Phoenix nodded at him, and the boy went with the others to Dita's front garden to play.

"He wasn't looking forward to this," Phoenix said.

"Neither was Emmett. But Dita's been out of her mind with excitement. She reckons she hasn't had a chance to get to know him properly at school." I shuffled my feet in discomfort. "Because, um..."

"He keeps shifting."

I winced. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"There's talk of removing him from the school." He sighed. "But he's the one who needs it the most."

"Maybe this will help." If it didn't, Dita was going to be really disappointed. She was absolutely dying to earn herself a werewolf friend.

I wiped my brow then held up my hand to shield my eyes.

"You look uncomfortable," Phoenix remarked.

"The sun isn't my friend."

"Oh." He looked at me with surprise. "I should have realised."

"I'm fine. It's just..." I didn't need to finish the sentence. The vampire taint in me couldn't stand the sun. Most sunny days were a minor irritation, but the rare scorchers made me feel ill.

He touched my bare arm, his skin somehow cool in the heat. I looked at his hand, and a shiver of anticipation shuddered through my body.

"Let's go inside." His voice had lowered huskily. "The children are, as you say, warming up."

I blinked at him; the sun appeared to reflect against his skin. "Maybe we should..." I cast a glance at the children. Nick looked scared of his own shadow, and I couldn't imagine anything going wrong. Besides, if he'd intended to hurt anyone, he wouldn't have gained entry into the cul-de-sac in the first place, thanks to the old magic protecting the houses.

"Go inside?" Phoenix offered.

"Well..."

Phoenix took my hand, and I shut up, following him into my house. As soon as I stepped over the threshold, he pressed me against the wall, knocking over a pile of CDs that Emmett had so carefully stacked. Phoenix and I had kissed for the first time while hunting a rare enemy, and ever since then, the kisses had been few and far between, never becoming anything more. Perhaps the lack of progress was part of the draw.

He clasped my waist with one hand while the other reached into my hair to loosen my ponytail. I gasped when he dipped his head to kiss my collarbone, his lips pleasantly cool against my skin. I slid my hands around his shoulders and drew him to my mouth instead. Phoenix kissed me as though I were a puzzle he was trying to unravel. And I liked it.

I forgot about everything but the calm amidst the heat. The rush made _sense_ —akin to the way counting numbers had for so long. It seemed ridiculous that I could find tranquillity while my heart raced, my breathing deepened, and my skin felt unable to contain my body, but a certain kind of peace was there for the taking.

His scent filled my nostrils, his fingers dug into my skin as his breaths grew shaky, and nothing was enough anymore. I pressed my body against his, signalling my willingness for more, but his kisses, while not exactly chaste, didn't go anywhere. And I felt like a hormonal teenager again, frustrated and turned on at the same time.

I bit on his lower lip, and his resulting hiss made me tremble. His kiss roughened, and I pushed him back.

He gazed down at me, waiting, his green eyes predatory even when he let me take the lead. But his calm exterior had been rocked; I sensed the darkness and violence simmering under the surface. Something inside me was drawn to that, too.

I peeled off my top, took his hand, and laid it against my heart. His calloused fingertips rough against my bare skin, he trailed his fingers across my breast. Something about the motion was teasing.

" _Phoenix_."

He bent to touch his forehead to mine, then his lips drifted down in light kisses. He lingered at my throat before lifting me in one swift movement. He pinned me against the wall, hesitating for a moment as he held my gaze, his lips barely curving upward at the corners. Then his mouth was on mine, and we kissed until I saw a rainbow of colours behind my eyelids.

A scream interrupted us. _Again_.

He practically dropped me and ran. I scrambled to yank my top over my head then raced outside after him.

In the middle of the road, Dita was between the boys, her hands out in a desperate attempt to stop them fighting. His cheeks deep red with his anger, Emmett pointed at Nick. Nick's eyes had gone dead, and as I raced over, I realised his fingernails had turned to claws.

"He's going to shift!" I shouted.

"Get the others out of the way," Phoenix commanded.

Phoenix reached Nick before I got to the others. I caught a glimpse of fur thrown to the ground, but not before a set of claws sliced Dita's face in the tussle. She fell back into Emmett, her head smashing against his nose. I managed to stop the worst of their fall, but the scent of blood already filled the air. I breathed through my mouth—just in case.

I changed my position to protect the pair, but Phoenix had his arms around Nick, holding him back. The boy was just a cub, but his claws and teeth were dangerous, and Phoenix struggled to hold on without hurting him.

Anka muttered in Polish as she carried over her bag of tricks so she could tend to Dita, who was crying, and Emmett, who had gone silent. I took one look at his bloody nose and the accusing look in his hazel eyes that matched his father's so well, and I had to turn away.

Phoenix was forced to keep his head back to avoid being clawed in the face—that only loosened his hold on the wild cub.

"What can I do?" I asked, needing the distraction.

"Help me pin him." Phoenix narrowly avoided another swipe. The boy wasn't trying to hurt anyone, but he desperately wanted to escape. "I need to calm him, and I can't like this."

With my help, we pinned Nick on the ground. I scented his fear and felt terribly sorry for him. I knelt by the boy's head, holding down his arms. The boy raged at me, snapping with teeth that looked far too big for his mouth, but Phoenix drew his attention.

"Peace," Phoenix said quietly. "It's just me, Nick."

But the boy's eyes rolled, and he focused on me again. A weak, terrified snarl erupted from his lips.

"Friend," Phoenix said firmly. "We are all friends here, Nick."

Finally, the cub's breathing eased, and he slowly calmed down enough for us to release him. But he refused to shift back into human form.

Phoenix sat on the ground and gathered the shaking werewolf onto his lap while he whispered to him.

I glanced over at the others. Emmett was holding a bloody hanky to his nose, his eyes still narrowed with anger. Dita had stopped crying and was allowing Anka to put pressure on her wound to assess the damage.

"Is he all right?" Dita asked. Anka tutted next to her.

"He'll be fine," Phoenix said, his hand caressing the werewolf's ears in a soothing gesture.

I shook my head. "What the hell happened?"

"He's an animal. That's what," Emmett mumbled against the hanky.

"You started it." Dita pulled her mother's hand away from her face. Four thin lines of blood sliced her cheek. One, just under her eye, was far deeper than the rest.

"That'll need stitches," I said.

"And whose fault is that?" Anka said sharply. "You said it would be safe, Ava."

"I—"

I groaned as Peter Brannigan's car drove into the cul-de-sac and stopped outside his house. He always had the worst timing. He got out of the car, took one look at the scene, and raced over to his son.

He checked Emmett's nose in a panic. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Emmett said grudgingly. "Nick just doesn't know how to be human."

" _Emmett_ ," Dita said. "Leave him alone already."

"Look what he did to your face!" Emmett shouted.

Nick whimpered.

"He didn't mean it," Dita said stubbornly. "Don't worry, Nick. I know it was an accident."

Anka swore in Polish. The long stream of words made me feel as though my entire bloodline was being cursed—if I had one.

"He's calm now," Phoenix said.

"Calm?" Peter said, his voice remaining level, despite the anger in his eyes. "You call _this_ calm?"

Nick was shaking badly. Unthinkingly, I reached out to touch him. He snapped at my hand, but I rested my fingers against his neck. "It's okay, Nick," I said softly. "It's going to be okay."

"You're taking _his_ side?" Emmett sounded as though he might burst into tears. "Really?"

"There's no side," I said, but Emmett and Peter both looked at me disbelievingly.

Peter looked me up and down, his anger turning to disgust.

I ducked my head and realised my T-shirt was inside out. I knew how I looked: dishevelled, hair messy and loose, with a face that was likely red and as guilty-looking as hell. Peter was never going to forgive me.

"There's very definitely a side," Peter said gruffly. "That animal isn't to come near my son again, or I'll—"

"Or you'll what?" Phoenix said coldly, an almost imperceptible chill emanating from him. He rose to his feet, and I sat next to Nick in case he tried to get involved. "If you think I'll stand by while you threaten this child, then you're sadly mistaken."

"He could have killed these kids." Peter pointed at me accusingly. _"You_ said he would be safe. Where the fuck were you when all of this happened?"

I swallowed hard. "I... in my house. You don't understand what—"

He glanced at Phoenix, and his lips curled into a sneer. "I see exactly how it is. You leave my son in danger while you go—"

"I'd think carefully about how you finish that sentence," Phoenix said calmly. "I've heard enough insults from your mouth, Brannigan. I choose to ignore them no longer."

Peter stepped toward him. "Do you think I'm scared of you? You think I don't know exactly what you are? I'm ready for you, fae. Anytime."

"That's enough," I said. "Stop acting like this in front of the kids. Both of you. Phoenix, take Nick home. He's too upset to do anything but be around his family." I avoided Phoenix's gaze. "Maybe it was too soon."

I sensed him staring at me, but I couldn't face him. I felt too guilty. Peter was right to be angry. I had screwed up and gotten distracted when I should have seen that Emmett had his father's streak of violence and would torment the wolf child into flipping. It was in their nature, and now Dita had been hurt because of it. Because of _me_.

"Fine," Phoenix said at last. He plucked Nick into his arms and strode to his car, ignoring the rest of us.

I stood and brushed the back of my jeans with my hands. "Dita, how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she said. "That was so stupid. Emmett's just a bully."

"I'm not a bully!" he shouted, flinging the bloody tissue aside. He stormed off, pausing only to give me a disgusted look. "I thought you cared about me."

"I _do_ ," I protested, but he was already leaving. I made to follow him, but Peter grabbed my arm.

"Don't you dare." His voice deepened with anger and frustration. "You don't get to comfort him when you caused this."

"I thought they would get along." I pulled my arm out of his grip. "I thought they were doing fine."

"He's a werewolf," Peter said. "I should never have agreed to this ridiculous little playdate. That cub isn't welcome here."

"I agree," Anka said. "My daughter will suffer with a scar for the rest of her life because of your experiment, Ava. This isn't what I expected from you." She led a protesting Dita away then slammed her front door behind them.

"Peter," I said, trying to remain calm, "Emmett's okay, but he needs to learn not to wind people up. Especially that kid. Hasn't he been through enough?"

"The cub?" he said, clearly exasperated. "What about what my son has been through?"

"They were both trapped for a long time," I said. "They have that in common! Maybe they could talk to each other, and—"

"This is fucking unbelievable," he said. "You actually want to try again? And you have the cheek to blame my son?"

"I'm not blaming Emmett. I'm just saying that—"

"Oh, go screw about with Phoenix and leave the rest of us out of it," he spat, angrier than I had ever seen him. "You're not the person I thought you were, and I don't want you near my son."

As he walked away, my mouth dropped open. One stupid mistake had cost me big time.

# 2

The heat wave was over. More than just the weather had turned colder. I had tried to leave a gift for Dita, but Anka had refused to even let me see the child. I had left the bag on the doorstep, but I had a feeling Dita would never see it.

There wasn't even a chance of Peter reaching anything close to forgiveness yet. I had tried calling Phoenix, but he hadn't answered or returned my calls. Relief had quickly followed that rejection; I had no idea what to say to him. I knew that he wasn't happy about the way things had gone down, but he just didn't understand that I had to keep the peace as best I could. If I hadn't asked him to leave, he would likely have come to blows with Peter. And I didn't know how I would react to that scenario.

There was so much hate and distrust in our lives, even now. I tried so hard to bring people together—to make all of my worlds join seamlessly—but my efforts kept backfiring spectacularly. There had to be a way to stop the weird feud between the Brannigans and Phoenix—I just had no idea what that was.

I half-heartedly finished the job Emmett and I had started on the CDs. My cheeks burned as I fixed the knocked-over pile in the hall. Whenever I put myself first, somebody else got hurt. The universe kept sending me the same message; maybe it was time I started heeding it.

The sound of a football smacking a wall outside drew my attention. I opened the front door and peeked out. Emmett was playing alone in the cul-de-sac, looking miserable. He looked up and noticed me. I waved hopefully, but with a stubborn set to his mouth, Emmett turned his back on me, picked up the ball, and went back into his house. He might as well have kicked the ball right at my gut—that would have been less painful.

Leaning against the doorway, I looked out at the cul-de-sac. Fourteen quaint cottages, and too many of the occupants had reason to be mad at me. My gaze fell on an empty cottage, and my mood dropped even further. Margie had left the cul-de-sac, abandoning her business with Anka, when my feud with the shifters bled out into her apothecary shop. After everything that had happened to us, _that_ was what had made her move on and leave us. Anka had been working so hard to keep on top of things and had even hired Leah part-time, but the number of customers the shop drew had been rapidly dwindling lately, and I was starting to suspect the business that had put her back on her feet was about to fail.

For weeks, an awful feeling in my chest had been telling me something terrible was coming my way. It squirmed again. I couldn't explain it, but I didn't want to be alone anymore.

I headed over to Carl's house and knocked on the door. I heard the television blaring and knocked impatiently a second time when he didn't answer. When he finally came to the door, his blond hair was tousled as though he had just woken up. "What?" he said hoarsely.

I brushed past him. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you in days."

"Here," he said, following me into his kitchen.

"Why aren't you at work?"

He mumbled something as I stuck on the kettle. "What was that?"

"I said, I got sacked."

I whirled around to face him. "What do you mean, you got sacked?"

He rolled his eyes. "I mean, I lost my job, got let go, was—"

"All right, I get it, Carl." I laid my hands on my hips. " _Why_ were you sacked?"

He shrugged then sat at the kitchen table. "No clue. Something about a lack of funding or some shit."

"Are you serious?" I took cups out of the press and slammed them on the counter with a little more force than necessary. "That's total bull."

"Yeah, well, maybe they decided they don't like non-special humans working with special kids."

I fumed silently while the kettle boiled. "Maybe I could talk to—"

"No," he said firmly. "It's done. It's over. I'll figure something else out."

"Breslin was talking about needing a bookkeeper," I said.

"I don't need any more of your charity," Carl snapped.

"It's not charity. It's—"

"Just make the bloody coffee, Ava."

I turned back to the counter. I needed to talk, but Carl didn't seem particularly inclined to listen. I made the coffee then sat across from him and studied his face. He toyed with the cup, spinning it around in a circle. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lips chapped.

"You're not taking care of yourself."

He met my gaze. "Is that what you came over to tell me?"

I squirmed in my seat. "No."

"Then why did you come here?"

I fidgeted with my sleeve. "I suppose you heard what happened."

"Nope."

"Phoenix brought the werewolf cub over, and while we... weren't looking, Nick and Emmett got into it. Dita ended up getting hurt." I realised his face was suspiciously blank. "What's _up_ with you?"

Anger flared in his eyes. "Are you serious?"

"What?" I bit on my lower lip. "Is this about Esther?"

The thunder in his expression immediately made me wish I hadn't opened my big stupid mouth. Carl had gotten close enough to Esther to believe that something was about to happen between them—until she and I had gone on a trip to meet the new shifter alpha. Esther had fallen hard for Patrick in an instantaneous, this-is-my-mate sort of way, and she'd forgotten Carl. And when I saw how happy Patrick made Esther, I encouraged her to follow her heart, despite knowing it would hurt Carl. But she would never have settled with Carl—not after meeting Patrick. The change in Esther had been phenomenal. The shifters had broken her time and time again, but it had taken another shifter to help her start to heal. To avoid hurting Carl, she had been spending time with Patrick while he helped the once-captive female shifters adjust to their new lives. I suspected her obvious avoidance had hurt Carl more.

Carl's fingers curled into fists. "No, Ava. This is about the way you run around doing your own thing then only turning up on my doorstep when you need something."

I blinked rapidly. "What are you on about? When do I ever ask you for anything?"

"Oh? Peter's my friend, and I have to listen to you harp on about Phoenix this and Phoenix that until I want to puke."

I relaxed in the chair and let him vent. Maybe we would finally get to the heart of the matter.

"And when was the last time you came over and asked how _I_ felt? Huh? When you and Esther were up north, did you even once think about how I would feel? Did you ever—"

I had stopped listening. That squirming in my chest had undone itself, spreading outward until it became a gentle but insistent tugging behind my navel. Something wanted me. Something...

"Ava! Are you even listening to me?"

I shivered. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"Is this a joke?" he blurted incredulously.

"No, it's nothing."

"See? This is what I'm talking about. You keep secrets, and you—"

"Stop," I said, a bead of sweat running down my temple. "Just... stop for a minute." I waited, trying to figure out what was agitating me. "Did you hear something?"

"I don't hear anything." He stared at me as though I had lost my mind.

"Hold on." I rose to my feet. "I have to... have to go... somewhere."

"Ava, are you all right?"

The tugging grew sickeningly uncomfortable until I took a step toward the door. With relief, I kept walking. The sensation abated with every step I took. Carl followed in my wake to loudly berate me.

"Shut up, Carl," I said. "There's something... _weird_."

Outside, a strange scent filled the air, and my mind grew confused. A fog surrounded us.

"Is somebody there?" Carl called out.

I turned left, intending to aim for the mouth of the cul-de-sac. The fog disappeared. I blinked, disoriented, then kept going, the peculiar tugging still leading my way.

"Ava." Carl gripped my arm. "Ava, you need to see this."

The urgency in his tone made me pay attention. I snapped out of my daze, and the tugging eased. Something in me felt disappointed, as though I had missed out on an important task. "What is this?"

"There's something in your garden." He sounded odd, and I followed his gaze.

There was a basket in my garden. My stomach dropped. "Is that...?"

"Yeah, I think it is." He urged me to my garden.

A sweet scent filled the air, and we hurried past my gate and to the basket on the ground.

"No freaking way," Carl whispered.

The pink blanket in the basket moved, and a tiny hand appeared.

"Holy shit," I said. "That's a real-life baby in there."

* * *

Carl and I stood over the basket we had quickly carried into my living room then glanced at each other.

"Don't look at me," he said. "It was left on your doorstep."

I frowned at the baby. When I uncovered her blanket and saw her red chubby cheeks, something inside me shifted, almost as though she were a lost soul I was supposed to help—but not quite—and I had no idea what that even meant. Being a Matriarch was confusing business, even at the best of times. I felt certain this child had something to do with my one-hundred-year task, but how, I had no idea.

"What do I do with her?"

"Again I say—your doorstep."

I thumped his arm. "Shut up, idiot. Pick her up."

"I'm not picking her up. She's tiny. I'll break her."

I knelt beside the basket. The baby was asleep, and she really was tiny. There were no nappies or bottles anywhere in the basket, no notes, hints, or how-to manuals on what to do after finding a baby in the garden.

"Why do all the weirdest things happen to me?" I mused aloud.

"You must have been really bad in a past life. Who should we call first?"

"Call?" I gazed at the baby. "Who would we call?"

"I dunno. Shay? Someone on the Senate? We have to tell somebody that a baby was left here. You can't just... keep it." He paused. "Ava?"

"Huh?" I shook myself out of the trance I had been in. The baby yawned, and I couldn't help but smile. "What is it about baby things that makes people turn to mush?"

"I can guarantee you that I'm not mush of any kind."

I waved a dismissive hand. "You're different. We're going to need supplies. Can you get some?"

"Supplies? Like what?" His panicked tone inferred I'd asked him to leave the planet.

The baby moved her head from side to side and moaned. Then her mouth opened, and a ridiculously loud wail came out of there.

Carl flinched. "Do something."

I carefully lifted the child from the basket, but she kept screaming. "Maybe she's hungry," I said over the noise.

"Then feed her!"

I scowled at him. "Yeah, hold on while I crack out the spare formula I keep lying around. Cop on, would you?"

"It's hard to think when something's screaming in your face like that!"

I adjusted my hold. "Could she be hurt?" I manoeuvred the baby in my arms so that I could rub her back. Her screams died down to a whimper, and I smiled triumphantly. "Look at that. Magic. Now we just need to figure out how she ended up on my doorstep."

"Uh." Carl pointed at the child. "I think I have an idea why. Look at the back of her neck."

My insides swirled as I checked the back of the baby's neck. And there it was—a slave brand, stark against her skin.

"No," I whispered. "It can't be."

"Fionnuala's dead," Carl said. "The slave market is done. But this tiny baby has a fresh mark. It looks so sore."

The skin around the tattooed mark was red and raised. Two diagonal black lines cut through an inverted triangle. The thought of somebody putting a baby through such unnecessary pain sickened me.

"So she was marked into slavery," I said. "But she ended up on my doorstep instead."

"Maybe somebody knew she would be safe here," he said, frowning. "But why not speak to you?"

"Maybe they were scared. Maybe they thought they were beyond saving." A thought occurred to me: maybe the child would lead me to my next lost soul. "Maybe she's the only one—some kind of ages-old deal somebody made. They left her here to circumvent the deal."

He sat down. I joined him on the sofa, careful to keep the baby upright.

He looked at me. "What if she's not the only one?"

That was the kind of thought that kept me up at night. "Then I'll have to find the others."

"We have to tell the Senate about this." A note of doubt marked Carl's words.

"Unless one of them is involved. It wouldn't be the first time someone in power got involved with slavery." I squeezed my eyes shut. "I really thought I helped people when I ended the slave market."

"You did." Carl patted my shoulder, his previous anger toward me apparently forgotten. "You're not responsible for another one popping up."

"Is this my life then?" I blew out a shaky breath. "Will I spend the rest of my life looking for slavers? Fixing things I thought I already fixed?"

"I don't know." He took a closer look at the baby. "So what are you going to do?"

"Keep this quiet," I said after a moment. "You won't say anything, right?"

"If you don't want me to."

I bounced her gently in my arms. I had no idea why. It just felt right. "Whoever left her here might come back for her. Maybe I can help them both."

"Yeah, maybe." The baby snuffled, and Carl inched away. "I'll go get supplies. I'll ask for help. How hard can it be?"

"Thanks."

He rose to his feet and headed to the door.

"Carl?"

He paused at the doorway but didn't look around.

"I'm sorry about Esther."

He kept walking.

Left alone with the baby, who fell back to sleep in my arms, I had time to think. The fog could have been magic of some kind, something intended to hide the person who'd delivered the baby to my doorstep. If only they had spoken to me. Was I supposed to temporarily look after the baby or hunt down the person who'd branded her?

The thought of another slave market made me sick. I needed to find out what the baby could do. Leah could help with that. I would have to be careful whom I spoke to, though. If the child had been branded because she was powerful, then she would be desirable to a lot of nasty people in the world—no matter what our newest laws declared.

"Don't worry," I whispered to the warm bundle in my arms. "I'll take care of you." I closed my eyes and inhaled that delicious baby scent, and my insides clenched. The one thing I desired more than anything was the one thing out of my reach, and yet I'd been delivered a baby as though in a dream.

I played with what-ifs, imagining what my life would be like as a mother, until Carl returned with bottles, formula, nappies, and baby wipes.

"She smiled in her sleep," I said. "I swear she did. She's such a little noodle. Look at her."

"Yeah," Carl said drily. "A little noodle."

"We should get one of those baby bath things. And one of those, you know, mobile things that spin and make music."

He gave me a blank look.

"The things that hang over the cot." I babbled excitedly about all of the things I would need while Carl's expression grew more concerned. I ignored the worrier trying to suck the fun out of every little thing.

As I played around with the formula, filling my first bottle ever, he laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it painfully. "Ava."

I ignored him and kept talking.

"Ava."

I turned around to face him, irritated by the interruption. _"What_?"

"It's not your baby."

"I know that. I'm not stupid."

He sighed. "That's not what... look, her parents are going to come back for her. And even if they don't, you can't keep her. That's not how it works."

"What? Like you know what I'm thinking now?" I asked, my voice a little higher-pitched than usual. Carl had hit the spot, and I didn't like how that felt.

"I know you," he said. "I see that look in your eye. Emmett's not interested in you, and you think you're going to fill that space with this baby, but that's not what happens. You don't get to keep her. We have to tell someone about her eventually. You can't just... take somebody's child and think it'll fix everything that's wrong with you. I've warned you about this kind of thing before, and—"

"Shut up," I said, barely able to contain my anger.

"This is for your own good," he said firmly. "You get too attached, and when the baby goes back to her parents, you'll be devastated. Why don't we call Shay right now and—"

"Get out," I snapped. "Just go, Carl. What the hell would you know? Telling me I'll be devastated. Look at you! How many times did I warn you about Esther? You lost your job and can barely get up out of bed. The cheek of you telling me what—"

"You know what, Ava? Get fucked." His eyes narrowed. "You don't get to treat me like shit because I'm the only person who tells you the fucking truth around here."

He turned on his heel and left.

"And you can watch your mouth around the baby and all!" I screamed after him.

He slammed the front door so hard that my entire house rattled. And the baby woke back up and screamed. I hurriedly finished making a bottle and went to feed her for the first time. Carl didn't know what the hell he was talking about. I hadn't used Emmett to fix me, and I certainly wasn't trying to replace him with a baby.

I sat on the sofa and fed the bottle to the little girl. "You are a cute little noodle," I whispered. I didn't even know her name, but I felt that peace again with her in my arms. I already knew that when I set her down, my arms would feel painfully empty. And when she left, there would be little else to distract me from Emmett's sudden turn against me.

I sighed heavily. I hated to admit it, but sometimes, Carl was right.

Shortly afterward, a knock at the door sounded. Thinking it was Carl back to make things up, I carried the baby to the door and opened it, ready to apologise.

A tall, handsome, dark-skinned man I used to know so well stood on my doorstep.

"I..." I blinked a couple of times, trying to gather myself together. "Can I help you?"

A scowl twisted the features of my first boyfriend—the man I had accidentally bitten as a teenager then run away from. He was the man I had encouraged Phoenix to take memories from. So why was he on my doorstep?

"Cut the crap, Ava," Wes said sharply. "I know _everything_."

# 3

My mouth dried up as I stared at Wes. I hadn't seen him since I begged Phoenix to take Wes's memories of me. I had done my best to forget him, too. "I... I mean, __ I... _what_?"

He frowned at the baby in my arms. "Who owns the baby?"

"I do," I said automatically.

He folded his arms across his chest. "We both know that's not true."

"I... I don't know what you mean."

He tutted with frustration. "I _know_ , Ava. I know you tried to take my memories."

_Oh, holy shit._ "Then how—"

"How do I remember you? Because I asked that man not to steal my memories," he said shortly. "And he was decent enough to listen, to at least give me the choice."

I leaned against the doorway for support as the blood drained from my face. I thought I'd tied up my past with a neat bow, but everything was coming undone. And Wes remembered... _everything_. I swallowed hard, unable to think of anything to say that might make the situation less uncomfortable.

He frowned. "That's not why I'm here. Don't worry."

"Do you... want to come in?" I managed to squeak.

He walked inside, careful not to touch me. I directed him to the living room, where we both lingered while the awkward tension in the air increased.

"Uh, take a seat," I said, losing a battle against my shaking voice.

Wes sat on the sofa. I settled the baby back into her basket then perched on the arm of a chair, my insides churning. It was hard to look at him and even harder to think about the things he knew. He looked around the room, something shifting in his eyes. He had probably expected my home to resemble my teenage bedroom. The small, cosy room was full of mismatched furniture and relics disguised as ornaments. The distance between us grew.

"I need your help," he said after a moment. The words appeared to pain him. "I didn't know who else to turn to."

"What's wrong? Is it Nancy?" He had promised to take care of my grandmother in her senility, and taking her memories of me had been an easy decision. It gave her an ounce of peace that she hadn't achieved since my birth. Wes had been a harder choice, but ultimately, I'd thought it best to protect him from my world.

"Nancy's fine, relatively speaking. I thought you would have gone to see her. I don't know... to make sure she was okay."

"I didn't really want to," I admitted. I gazed at my bitten fingernails. "I figured she was being well looked after."

"She was. She _is_ , but... you really closed that door, didn't you?"

He sounded flabbergasted, and I shrank into myself.

"I'm here about the neighbourhood." He frowned again. " _Our_ neighbourhood. I know you don't think of it as home anymore, but I thought you might still care."

"What do you mean?"

"Things were supposed to get better, right?" He stood and walked around the room, looking at photos on my mantelpiece. All were strangers to him, signs of the new life I had made when I left him behind. A lump in my throat ached. "But they didn't," he continued. "For a while, our place was pretty much untouched." He shrugged. "I thought I had you to thank for that. But then, it started."

"What started, Wes?" My voice was thin and small, an infuriating reminder of the old days.

His gaze fell to my hands, and I realised I had been tapping my fingers on my knees in sets of fourteen. I sat on my hands and pretended nothing had happened.

"People came," he said after a moment. "Gangs. I think most of them are human. But they're making people pay." He finally looked at me. "Protection money. If we pay, we're safe. From _them_. From anyone else who might come along. Some people didn't pay. Our homes were vandalised when they realised we would never pay. Every now and then, they'd show up again, and things would grow a little more intense."

"It got worse," I guessed. "Something's happened."

He sucked in a shaking breath. "Yeah, it did. Remember Mr. O'Brien at the corner? Next to the old corner shop where we used to buy those fizzy sticks you liked?"

My cheeks burned at the memory. Even as a teenager, I'd had an uncontrollable sweet tooth. As for Mr. O'Brien, I remembered an impossibly old man who was too blind to see that I was different from the other kids. He would occasionally slip me sweets when my grandmother wasn't looking. "He was always nice to me."

"Well, he was beaten to death last night." He rubbed his face, clearly exhausted. "He didn't pay, and they killed him. It's possible they didn't mean to, that he had a heart attack during the beating, but they didn't call an ambulance or anything. And nobody heard a thing. Nobody helped him. His home-help found him this morning. He died alone because of these people."

I had to force myself not to rock to and fro. The past was chasing me again, catching up in ways I didn't like. "I can't believe it," I said shakily. "He didn't deserve that."

"Nobody does," he snapped. "So what happens next time they come back? People are angry now, think they have to protect their families any way they can. This won't end well. There's no trust out there, Ava. We all keep reading the newspapers, keep hearing how bad things have gotten, and we can't help but believe it all. The police have been no help, and most people have been too afraid to talk to them anyway. I didn't know what else to do." He took in the room one last time. "This was a mistake. I should never have come here."

I got in his way to stop him leaving. "No, I'll help. I'm glad you came."

" _Glad_?" He gripped my upper arms tightly. "You never wanted to see me again! You ran away from me without a word, made me think you were dead, and then you popped back into my life only to try to steal my memories away!"

"I'm sorry." It sounded pathetic, even to me.

"Sorry isn't good enough!" he bellowed. "What the hell were you thinking? You can't just make decisions like that, Ava. Who gave you the right?"

"I thought..." I swallowed hard. "I thought it would be for the best."

"Best for you!" He dropped my arms and turned his back on me. "You can't do that to people, take a piece of them away. How could you even consider it? Stealing my past like it was nothing. Like everything we had been through meant nothing."

I reached out to touch his arm. "Wes," I said softly.

He whirled around, backing away from me. "I don't even know you," he said bitterly. "I can't even imagine what's happened to you to make you so heartless. I was right. This really was a mistake."

He left, refusing to turn back when I called his name. I couldn't leave the baby to chase him. And I wasn't sure what that would achieve in any case.

My hands were shaking. I had never meant to hurt Wes. I had intended to protect him from me. But Phoenix hadn't taken his memories. Wes could have turned up at any time. And Phoenix had never said a word.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I picked up the phone then called Wes's family home to leave a message, letting him know he could call me if the gang turned up again. Poor Mr. O'Brien. He had been kind, and his death had been senseless.

A fury ran through me. Where were the police when all of this was happening? Wes obviously hated me, but I could still help. I called Shay, head of the Integration Agents who dealt with supernatural matters that crossed over into human territory. There had to be something he could do.

When Shay answered the phone, his tone was brusque. "I don't have much time to talk today."

"I need your help with something," I said. "An old friend came to see me, said his neighbourhood was being targeted by some kind of protection racket. Apparently, an elderly man was beaten to death last night."

He paused as someone else spoke to him. "Ava, if you give me the location, I'll have somebody check it out." I gave him the details, but something in my voice must have given me away, because his tone became concerned. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah, it's just—"

Loud voices in the background interrupted us.

"Sorry," Shay said hurriedly. "I have to go. I'll have someone check it out as soon as I can." He hung up before I could say goodbye.

Deflated, I sat on my armchair and stared at the empty sofa, recalling Wes's form as he'd sat there. He didn't fit, not in my home, not in my life, but I hated that he was angry with me.

I went to my front door, wishing I could go to Peter to talk, but I knew he was still too angry. Phoenix brought out the inner rage in Peter, and I couldn't push him too hard. Anka was probably still furious with me, too. And it _was_ my fault. Carl's anger was just as fresh; I didn't have the energy for another confrontation.

As I gazed out at the cul-de-sac, thinking of just how many people were angry with me, I wondered if people ever got over their issues. Or did they just bury them, the way I had with Wes. His return had shaken me, and yet again, I was to blame. But my guilt swiftly turned to anger. Phoenix had lied to me. And I was going to find out why.

* * *

When I considered the people in my life, I knew I could count on one person when it came to protecting the little girl while I sought out Phoenix. She was one of the few people who weren't pissed off at me.

When Val arrived, she soundlessly brushed past me to find the baby. "You were serious," she said when I followed her into the living room.

"I'd hardly make it up."

She glanced at me. "I hoped you did." She sighed. "Another slave. I feel..." Her fists closed then opened again. "How _disappointing_ this is."

"Can you watch over her while I go do something?"

"She's safe with me," she said, taking a seat. The half-hellhound gazed at the basket, her honey-coloured eyes softening. "Nobody can touch her now."

"Think Leah can help figure out what she can do?"

"That won't be a problem. Are you assuming the child is especially valuable?"

"I've no idea." I flopped into a chair. "It doesn't even matter. The point is—we failed. We didn't save all of the children."

"This child is barely more than a couple of days old," Val pointed out. "She wasn't even alive back then."

"We thought we were making a better world." I rested my chin in my hands, feeling glum. "And here we are again—back where we began."

"Not where we began," she said. "We know so much more now."

"And yet I've no idea who's doing this." I stood and paced. "I don't know who I can even trust anymore."

"You can trust me."

"That's why I called you." I faced her. "You saved Leah from the kind of life this child was destined for. Somebody brought her to me. How did they know to bring her here? What did they even want from me? They could have stayed. I would have helped them."

"We'll find them," she said confidently.

The baby squirmed and whimpered. Before I could reach the basket, Val had the infant in her arms, cooing as she rocked her. She caught my eye and scowled. " _What_?"

"It's just... you're more of a heavy-weapon person. Didn't really think you'd fall to pieces over a baby."

"I haven't fallen to pieces," she said snidely. But when she looked down at the child, she smiled. "You've forgotten I raised Leah. I was the one who took care of her, and this little one reminds me of those days. I was tasked to protect Leah, and I did, but there were times when I had to mother her, too. She was all I had for so long." Her lips turned down. "She's still all I have."

"Problems with Lucia?"

She pursed her lips before answering. "She couldn't relax at home. Lorcan was on her thoughts a lot. There was something bothering her, so she left. I'm not so sure she's coming back." She sucked in her lower lip. "I'm... not sure I want her to."

"If things get too weird, you and Leah are welcome to come here. You know that, right?"

"Leah likes Phoenix." She made it sound as though that were a fatal flaw of personal character. "I'll wait and see. Get me a bottle for this little one. She seems hungry."

I warmed a bottle and gave it to Val, who fed the baby like an expert.

"She's sweet, isn't she?" I said. "I keep calling her Noodle."

"Poor baby," she said scornfully.

"I don't know her name."

Val pursed her lips. "I wonder if she even has one."

"So," I said nervously. "Exactly how mad at me is Peter right now?"

She snorted softly through her nose. "Do you really want the answer to that question? What were you thinking, Ava?"

"I was thinking that we have enough bad blood between us all. That maybe the kids would be different. I don't know, Val. I wanted something... more."

"You wanted to please Phoenix." She shook her head. "What hold does that man have over you?"

"He doesn't have a 'hold' over me. I have my own brain, you know." I shrugged. "Maybe I wanted to make him happy then. I don't know. But if you had seen Nick. He has this withdrawn look about him, like he's afraid of everything. I'm tired of scared children, Val. I thought maybe we could make a difference."

"Peter's fuming," she said. "He won't talk about it unless he's swearing about Phoenix. He may seem angry at you, but it's Phoenix he really blames."

"That's just stupid. I organised it. I was the one who wasn't there when the kids acted up."

"They're old enough to play without being watched every second of the day." She caught my eye. "What's going on between you and Phoenix? Should I be worried?"

"Why would you worry? It's nothing."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Really, it's not. I haven't slept with him. He's not my boyfriend. It's just... I like him. Actually, I'm kind of mad at him right now, but most of the time, I like him. It doesn't have to be a big deal."

"Isn't it weird that you knew his wife?" She gave a little shudder. "I remember an old woman. It's odd to me to think they were married."

"I try not to think about it," I admitted. "I should head on. Will you be okay here for a while? If you have work, then I can—"

"No," she said, but she sounded disappointed. "Work has dried up lately."

"Again?" I shoved my hands in my pockets. "How does this keep happening? It doesn't make sense. You do great work. Everyone knows it. How is the work not coming to you? Didn't you sign up to the Senate's program?"

"We did." She sat the baby up to wind her. "They haven't given us anything. We know they're giving out missions... just none to us. Peter thinks it's Phoenix's influence."

"That doesn't sound like Phoenix." Then again, I wouldn't have guessed Phoenix would lie about Wes, either. I tried to think back. Had he ever actually claimed to have taken Wes's memories?

"It does sometimes feel as though we've been blacklisted," Val said, vigorously rubbing the child's back. The baby let out an enormous belch. "Ah, there's a good girl."

I smothered my amusement. "You look like you have everything in hand. I'll try to find out if Phoenix is blocking you. Don't worry about that."

She nodded, more concerned with the baby than anything else. Val was the queen of single-minded focus.

I left her and headed straight for Phoenix's place. The buildings were empty, so I sat on the doorstep and waited, thinking of Folsom, the previous owner of the converted garage. The garage was just a cover for the sanctuary beneath, a well-protected hiding place that Phoenix had created before his memories were stolen. The idea that the man who had helped so many vulnerable people could be petty enough to take work from Peter was ridiculous—but maybe Phoenix had changed during his long life.

I was starting to feel chilled by the time Phoenix returned. I got out of his way so he could open the front door. But when he invited me in, I hesitated, unable to even look him in the eye. I had trusted him. When everyone—even his own son—said not to, I had trusted him.

"Has something happened?" he asked when he realised I wasn't going to follow him inside.

"Yes." I couldn't find the words, though. "Have you blacklisted Peter and Val?" I met his confused gaze. "Have you stopped them from getting work from the Senate?"

"Why would I do that?"

"That's not an answer."

His lips thinned, and his gaze grew cold. "I haven't done anything to either of them."

I wanted to cry, and I wasn't even sure why. "Am I supposed to believe you?"

He folded his arms, retreating behind a wall of ice. "Why wouldn't you believe me, Ava?"

I held my hands behind my back to hide the trembling. I felt let down in a way that scared me. Maybe I liked him more than I'd thought. "You lied to me before."

"What is this?" he asked, sounding exasperated. "What exactly are you accusing me of now?"

"Wes turned up today," I said in a low voice. "And he remembered me, remembered everything. Said you were decent enough to let him keep his memories."

He stilled. "Is that all he said?"

"Is there more?"

He looked away, a strained expression on his face. "What do you want from me, Ava?"

"The truth might be nice! You said you would take his memories. You said you'd do that."

"And he asked me not to. I know what it's like to have missing pieces, to feel as though there's nowhere you belong because you don't fully understand everything anymore. There's no going back from that, Ava. You knew this. You knew my struggle, and yet you still asked me the unthinkable. The unforgivable. Yes, I gave him the chance to keep his memories, and I don't regret it."

I shook my head in disbelief. "You had no right to—"

"No! _You_ had no right."

Then he slammed the door in my face. I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before I walked away. Everything I touched was falling apart.

# 4

I got back to the cul-de-sac in time to witness the tail end of an argument between Dita and Emmett.

"I'll never forgive you," she said right before she slammed the door in his face.

Obviously dejected, he trudged across the road to his house. I felt his pain. Slamming doors was catching.

"Doesn't feel good, does it?" I said as he crossed in front of me.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "What do you care?"

"I care about you."

He turned to look at me, his gaze somehow fiercer because of the bruise around his eye. A tiny cut marred the bridge of his nose. "Funny way of showing it."

"I was trying to do a good thing. You know I would never purposely hurt you. I'm so sorry you got hurt."

"Dita's the one who got hurt. She was just trying to stop it, and he hurt her face."

"I think that was an accident," I said softly, just grateful he was talking to me. "He panicked, couldn't control the shift."

"Then they should lock him back up in that cage," he said viciously. "Never let him out."

I took a step toward him. "You can't mean that, Emmett. You know what it's like."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "All I know is that you picked Phoenix over my dad, and now you like his werewolf kids better than me."

"That's so not true!"

But he was already gone into his garden. I stood by the gate and called his name. He opened the door then turned to look at me one last time, his face wan. "I hate you!" was his final rejoinder before slamming the door after him.

Shaken, I made my way to my own house. Emmett had the power to truly hurt me, and he had used it well. I had never meant for him to feel as though I had chosen someone else before him. Maybe I'd been selfish to think I could have anything for myself with so many people relying on me for one thing or another. I had thought that my connection with Emmett was unbreakable, but I had been the one to screw it up without even realising.

Miserable, I let myself into my house, having half-forgotten about Val and the baby. The hellhound was asleep on the sofa, the baby resting on her chest. I picked up the infant, and Val gripped my arm before realising it was me.

"Sorry," she said, releasing me. "Habit."

"No worries. Nothing unusual while I was gone then?"

"Nothing." She sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Did you speak to Phoenix about the baby?"

"No," I said. "I don't want anyone to know about her yet. Not until I learn more."

"You can't take care of her and search for her mother at the same time." Val yawned. "How did it go, in any case? Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Not really." I sat down with the baby. "I asked him about blacklisting your business. He said he didn't, but can we trust him?"

She arched a brow. "You suddenly don't trust Phoenix?"

"As it turns out... he hasn't always been so honest with me."

"Are you all right?"

I shrugged, concentrating on the baby in my arms rather than the look in Val's eyes. "I asked him to take Wes's memories away once. Same as my grandmother. I thought he did. Turns out, not so much. Wes is having trouble with some kind of protection racket, so he came to me for help, but he's pissed off with me. So he should be."

"How odd," she murmured. "Would you like me to look into his problem?"

"If he contacts me again, I'll let you know. Not sure he wants me digging into his affairs now that he's seen my face again and realised he hates my guts. I'm not the most popular person in the world right now."

"It'll pass," she said. "I'll head on. I want to walk Leah home from work. We've had no more trouble from the shifters, but I don't want them to think I've stopped watching."

I smiled. "Go on then. And thanks for today."

"Anytime." She hesitated at the doorway. "I think I can speak for Leah on this. If we can help you stop whoever branded that baby, we will."

"I appreciate that."

She left, and I snuggled the baby to feel a little less alone. The child slept, as she had most of the time since her arrival on my doorstep. I wished I could safely take her to a doctor to make sure she was healthy, but I wasn't sure if somebody was waiting to steal her back.

I switched on the television and watched the evening news. More protests were happening outside the Senate's public meeting place. The nuts were multiplying on a weekly basis, growing in arrogance and stature with every news report on them. The group had taken to calling themselves Humans First and were even muttering about starting an official political party—the interests of humans being their only priority. Their slogans ran more along the lines of "Death to anyone who doesn't agree with me" than "Equal rights for humans." People were only paying attention to them because certain reputations had been destroyed over the last few months, what with shifters kidnapping each other and the wendigos killing innocents on behalf of a higher power.

A middle-aged woman stared into the camera, a smug smile on her face as she rattled off the usual grievances her group had against supernaturals and anyone who didn't hate us. I vaguely recognised her as one of the regulars who not only thought the sudden appearance of supernatural creatures were a sign of end times—conveniently forgetting that we had always existed, just not as openly—but also that children with human and supernatural parents were abominations who shouldn't have been born. Someone had written up a piece about the woman recently, mentioning that she used to campaign as a pro-lifer. Hypocrisy at its finest. I was pretty sure the professional protester just liked how her face looked on her television.

The next report was more positive. James, a human representative on the Senate, was pictured shaking the hand of a local businessman, Declan Egan, who had just financed yet another project with the Senate. The good vibes were all over the report, and I assumed the Senate were clocking up bonus points by the boatload. They definitely needed good publicity.

I narrowed my eyes at Declan Egan. His obvious comb-over was annoyingly unstable in the wind in the well-timed shot the media were using. I wondered what he'd gotten from his association with the Senate. God, being so suspicious all of the time was getting tiring.

I switched off the television and relaxed with the baby, wondering what my life would have been like if I'd been human or if I'd stuck things out with Peter. Maybe I wouldn't have felt as lonely. Maybe everything would be different.

"Maybe it would be worse," a small voice whispered. But that seemed almost impossible.

I settled the baby into her basket—the brand on the back of her neck was a symbol of my obvious failures—wishing I could go over to Anka and resolve things. But maybe I had been naive to think my friends were the family I needed. Friends could turn their backs on one another—just like anyone else.

* * *

Val agreed to babysit again the next day. "You could always ask Anka," she remarked when she arrived.

"That would involve her actually talking to me again," I said. "Besides, I can't let the first thing I say to her be, 'Oh, by the way, I need a favour.'"

"Just talk to her. Anka doesn't hold grudges. You know this."

"I'm a wimp," I said. "Leave me be."

She frowned. "This isn't like you."

"It's just..." I sighed. "I seem to keep making everything worse. My judgement is way off lately. Maybe it's for the best if I stay alone for a while."

"It's not." She sat on a chair and shook her head. "You know it's not."

"Yeah, well, it'll sort itself out in the end."

"Promise me you'll try."

I looked at her in surprise. "Since when do you care?"

"I know Anka. She needs to see you make reparations. She needs you to know how she feels and to be remorseful."

I wondered if that was why she'd stayed with Dita's father for so long—because he had managed to act remorseful. I didn't like the comparison.

"Okay," I said. "I'll try. Let me know if anything weird happens around here while I'm gone. I keep waiting for someone to come for the baby, but it's been suspiciously quiet out there."

Val shrugged. "I have nothing better to do than babysit, and nobody is going to get past me. The silver lining to this, perhaps."

"Sorry about the business. It sucks, but maybe it's a bad time of year or something. Anyway, I'll be back as soon as I can." I left, confident the infant would be safe while I was gone.

Outside, I spotted Anka and Dita heading into their house. I waved, and although Anka urged Dita to go inside, the child refused and stubbornly waited at the front gate for me.

"Hey," she said. "Look at my stitches. I'm going to have the most epic scar."

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I never meant for you to get hurt."

"I know that," she said, sounding surprised. "Neither did Nick. He just gets scared easily."

Anka snorted. "Scared? A werewolf?"

Dita turned to face her mother, her hands on her hips. "Yes, scared. He got shot by a human, he's been trapped in a cage for most of his life, and he's terrified. That's why he shifts, to feel safer. And everyone at school knows it, so they pick on him and pick on him and wait for him to freak out. I won't have anyone bullying him. Not even Emmett."

I stepped back, impressed.

Anka pressed her lips together in a thin line before nodding. "I'm glad you know how to treat people then."

"Didn't I learn it from you?" Dita asked faux innocently.

The corners of Anka's mouth twitched. "Careful now."

I decided to step in before Dita managed to ruin her heroic speech with a smart remark. "Dita, Val's in my house, minding a... surprise. You should pop in and see what it is."

She rubbed her hands together with glee, immediately distracted. "Is it a puppy?"

I laughed. "Not this time. Only one way to find out for sure, though, right?"

"Put your things away first," Anka said sternly before Dita could run off.

Dita sprinted inside without another word. Anka stood there for a moment, studying me. She lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply while I gave her what I hoped was a pleading look.

"I made cookies," she said. "If you want to come in."

"Later?" I said hopefully.

She shrugged and took another drag of the cigarette. "I know you're sorry, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be angry. I want to pull the hair out of your head for the scar on my daughter's face." She licked her lower lip. "But that doesn't mean I don't know you feel guilty enough for both of us."

"I would never hurt Dita on purpose," I said. "I made a mistake, and I'm sorry for it, but I don't want you to hate me forever."

Dita came running out of the house. "Come on, Mama. Let's go see."

Anka stubbed out the cigarette and shook her head. "It had better be good."

"I think you'll be surprised," I said. "I know I was."

They headed to my house while I left the cul-de-sac, feeling a little better since Anka had spoken to me. I knew she would forgive me. At least one relationship would go back to normal. I wished the Brannigans were as forgiving. If I mentioned the baby, Peter might direct his anger elsewhere—then again, the news could also fuel his thirst for revenge.

I had spent most of the night thinking about loose ends and what I might have missed. I knew a couple of people who could answer a few of my questions, but I was starting with nothing. Nobody had come for the child, and that was telling enough.

I headed across town to Dave's garage. I knew Nate was still working there because I had been keeping tabs. He was one of many hybrids augmented by magical tattoos who'd once worked for Fionnuala. If anyone knew about her surviving cronies, it was him.

The garage was quiet. I made for the office to find Dave.

He groaned when he saw me. "Take it you're looking for Nate," he said resignedly.

"Where is he?"

"In the back, having his lunch. Not exactly busy around here lately."

"Sounds like that's been making the rounds all over the place."

"Not for my competitors. Somebody set those bloody religious nuts on me, and my customers abandoned ship. Can't give my services away for free, even though those protesters got bored and moved on two weeks ago."

"Ah, sorry."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, shit happens. Listen, go easy on Nate. He gets stressed after these little chats of yours. If, by some miracle, I do find myself some customers, I'd like him to be useful."

I bared my teeth. "I'll try my best." I left the office and found the back door. Stepping outside, I spotted Nate sitting on an old junker, eating a breakfast roll.

He watched me approach, his expression completely blank. "Can I at least finish this first?" he asked. For an assassin, he was pretty meek most of the time, but I refused to let that fool me.

"You can eat and talk at the same time." I sat on a crate. "Tell me everything you know about the slave trade in Ireland."

That made him sit up straight. "You ended it with Fionnuala," he said slowly. "Right?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Hypothetical situation. Imagine somebody found a newborn baby with a slave brand, fresh, still seeping. Where would they go to find the mother?" I scowled. "Or the owner."

He wrapped up his roll and set it down, a sickened look on his face. "A baby with a slave brand—and you come to me for answers. Do you think my brothers are behind this? That's not... I can't see any of them having interest in that kind of... business."

"You all seemed pretty interested before."

The skin around his eyes creased. "Not interested. Ordered. We obeyed our orders. We had no choice."

"And yet there you sit, having made your own choices."

"You know what I had to do to make this life. I wouldn't give this up—not now, if that's what you're trying to say."

I leaned back and studied Nate. I doubted he had made a good assassin, but I could never fully trust him. Still, if he was involved with the slave trade, he certainly wouldn't be stuck in an apprenticeship, of all things.

"All right," I said. "What if somebody else is giving the orders?"

He shook his head. "They would have come for me, too. I'm still useful."

"Then why can't you be useful for the right side?"

He snorted softly. "Maybe when I find the right side, I will be."

I could see I needed to ask the right questions. "What about money? Think these brothers of yours need an income? 'Cause the way I see it, the slave trade is a fairly lucrative business."

"Because it's so easy to fall into?" He let out a short, harsh laugh. "Mother..." He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before correcting himself. " _Fionnuala_ had centuries of connections and influence behind her. She didn't just wake up one day with the notion. If anyone has taken over her business, it must be someone ancient, because who else could get away with it?"

"Know of any ancients?"

"My best guess would be her son," he said.

I tried to look relaxed. "The son who killed her. The son whose children were kept in the slave markets. Nope. Not buying it."

"Maybe he killed her to take over the family business. I've heard about young, wild fae, the way they play at a different life for a century or three. Maybe this one finally grew up and decided it was time to be a fae prince again." He shrugged again. "Or not. I'm just saying it has to be someone who's a big deal to pull this off unnoticed. Although..." He frowned. "If a baby was found, then maybe they're not getting away with it, after all. If you're digging into it, then it's not worth the money. You're like a dog with a bone. You'll never let it go. Maybe somebody knows that, too."

I frowned as I processed that. "You think this is a distraction from something bigger?"

"Why not? What better way to push your buttons?"

"What's bigger than the slave trade?" I shook my head. "I don't care anyhow. I want to find out who's responsible for this baby. If any of Fionnuala's cohorts survived the war, we need to find them before children start being abducted again on the off chance that they're special!"

"What?" a young male voice said from behind me. "They're slave trading again?"

I winced before turning to face the speaker. "Noah, you shouldn't eavesdrop."

"I wouldn't have to if you told me the important things!"

I lowered my voice. "I found a baby with a slave brand, but I'm dealing with it, okay?"

His freshly tanned cheeks turned bright red. "Why didn't you say anything to me?"

"Because I don't know anything for sure yet," I said. "Take it easy, kid. I'm still trying to work this out."

His fingers tightened around the wrench in his hand, his knuckles turning white. "You don't understand what it was like. We have to stop this."

"I'm going to," I said.

"I can help you. So can Ari. There are plenty of us who can help!"

I exchanged a glance with Nate, who shrugged.

"Look," I said. "I don't want this getting out. We know somebody's trading in people, and we don't want them to suspect we're after them. We don't want to give them a chance to run. This is my fight, and I'll deal with it, Noah, the best way I know how. I was the one who started this, and I have to finish it. If I'd done more before, then maybe this wouldn't be happening right now."

"But, Ava," he all but whined.

"If I find a job for you, I'll call you; I swear," I said. "But right now, I'm just asking questions. If you really want to help, pick Nate's brains and see if you two can come up with a lead for me. All right?"

Nate lifted his shoulders into a nonchalant shrug, and Noah looked pissed, but I didn't want him getting too involved, not when he was finally earning himself some freedom.

"And Nate," I said, "whoever's involved in this is automatically my enemy. Don't go making yourself my enemy, too."

A flash of anger flared in his eyes. He picked up his food again. "I'm not interested in making enemies. I just want a quiet life."

"So do we all. Doesn't mean we get it." I got up and faced Noah. "Can I trust you?"

"You know you can!"

"You once worked in the slave market."

"I didn't have a choice!" He ran his hands through his floppy black hair. "Fine. I get it. I won't go off on one. I won't tell anyone except Ari."

"Oh, come on."

"I trust her," he said. "And she might have ideas. Ari always had the best ideas. She could help us find out where the baby came from."

"If I get really desperate, I'll ask Ari for help," I said sardonically. "Until then, keep quiet. Don't let on that you know anything about this. Not even to Alanii or Phoenix."

"No problem," Noah said, looking older for a moment. "I won't let you down."

My phone buzzed in my pocket. "Hold on," I said, seeing the name on the phone. I answered. "Wes?"

Shouting in the background set my teeth on edge. "Ava, they're back. It's getting heated, and one is waving a gun around. We called the emergency hotline twenty minutes ago, and there's been no sign of help coming our way."

"I'll be right there," I said. "Try to calm the situation until I get there. I'll bring help."

"Thanks," he said, then the phone call was abruptly cut off.

"Shit," I muttered, still staring at my phone.

"Trouble?" Nate asked.

"Probably just human problems. I have to run. Remember what I said!" I called out over my shoulder as I hurried to catch a taxi to help my ex-boyfriend.

# 5

On my way to my old neighbourhood, the taxi got severely stuck in traffic. I called Shay, silently praying he would pick up.

He did, but again, the background noise was ridiculous. "Ava, I don't have—"

"Shay, this is serious! Those thugs looking for protection money are back, and this time, they're armed. As in, with bullets. Emergency services hasn't turned up, so I'm heading there now. You need to send someone to help."

"I... All right," he said. "I'll do what I can. Be careful, Ava."

I hung up.

"You don't expect me to drive into a gun fight, do you, love?" the taxi driver said worriedly.

"Nope. You can let me out here."

I paid, left the taxi, then sprinted away. I wasn't too far from Wes, and I was faster than a car stuck in traffic anyway. By the time I reached my old neighbourhood, sweat was dripping down my back. The place looked deserted. I hazarded a guess and headed for Mr. O'Brien's home, and on the way, I came across a large group of people, several of them blasts from the past, facing off against the gang who had likely murdered Mr. O'Brien.

Wes was in the centre, desperately trying to calm the situation, but even at a distance, I could see how riled up everyone was. Some of my old neighbours looked ready to burst as the gang taunted them. I just hoped Shay's people arrived soon.

I raced over and reached Wes, who automatically tried to push me behind him.

"Supernatural, remember?" I murmured.

"I don't care, remember?" he said under his breath.

"The police are on their way," I said loudly. "You need to leave." I looked over my shoulder at my old neighbours. "Get out of here before something goes wrong."

A couple of them obeyed, but most kept staring at the gang. I faced forward again, ready to talk down the gang. The group of eight idiots consisted of two women and six men. None of them looked older than I was, and most of the males could have passed for teens. That deflated my temper somewhat.

The brunette with the gun was still waving it around. "There's no police coming here," she scoffed. "They don't come here anymore."

"Is that why you keep coming back?" I asked. "Because you think the police won't be here to stop you?"

Her smile turned cunning. "No, that's not why." And then she aimed the gun at me and pulled the trigger.

I was already toppling over because Wes had blindsided me, shoving me out of the way amidst screams of fear and fleeing footsteps. I scented his spicy blood and made a concentrated effort not to do so again. Nine years later, I still remembered how he tasted.

The shooter looked mildly shocked for a second, wringing her hand as though it hurt. I took advantage of that, tackling her and managing to knock the gun out of her hand—thankfully, it didn't go off when it landed and skidded a few feet away. A couple of the shooter's friends tried to help by gripping my arms and pulling me back. My attempts to fight back knocked us all to the ground. The brunette ran, and I just knew she was going to make a second attempt to use the gun on me. Then she froze to the spot and held up her hands.

"Get away from her, or I'll shoot," Wes shouted, having reached the weapon first.

"Come on," the brunette said as sirens wailed close by. "It's time to go."

The men ran, splitting up into different directions. I looked up. Wes, bleeding at the shoulder, was just about managing to aim the gun at the retreating gang.

"Screw it." I made chase. The young woman was slow, already breathing heavily and clutching at her side. I skidded into her—probably harder than necessary, but the gun situation warranted a little payback—knocking her off her feet. I pinned her, and she made like a ragdoll and stopped fighting back. But she gave me a knowing grin when I flipped her onto her back. "What's the matter?" I said. "Enjoy getting locked up that much?"

"Won't be for long," she sneered. "I'll never let you hurt—"

A car pulled up beside us, and the brunette promptly shut up. Quinn and her human partner hopped out of the vehicle. "Getting into trouble again?" she asked me with a smile.

"Just your typical Wednesday," I said. "This is the shooter." I got to my feet and let them take care of her while I stopped Shay from arresting Wes, who still hadn't let go of the gun.

"Wes," I said, waving my hand in front of his face. "It's over."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"So give me the gun then."

He looked down at his hand as though seeing the gun for the first time. "Oh," he said. "Take it."

I grabbed the gun then handed it to Shay. "About seven others got away."

Shay directed a pair of IAs to make chase.

"That was stupid," I told Wes as one of the IAs checked out his injury.

"Just skinned it," the agent said. "No worries."

"I think the shock might get him first," Shay said. "Ava, what the hell happened here?"

"I just arrived, told the gang to leave, then Brains over there pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger. No warning."

"None?" He raised his brow. "Did you happen to antagonise her with a smart remark first?"

I sighed. My reputation wasn't amazing.

"No, she didn't." Wes managed to sound extremely offended. "They were stalling, making threats, dragging out the scene, then when Ava appeared, they just... shot at her. Like it was nothing."

Like she had been waiting for me.

"But they missed," Shay said coaxingly as Wes's gaze went distant.

"Uh, yeah. I pushed her out of the way and managed to get hit myself."

"Which was stupid." I laid my hands on my hips. "Nobody thanks the hero, Wes."

"It was just a reaction," he said. "What else was I supposed to do?"

"Run, like everyone else, you doughnut. Jesus, you could have been killed."

"It doesn't even hurt," he said, glancing at his shoulder. "Is it supposed to hurt?"

"An ambulance is on its way," Shay told me. "Get him checked over, and then I expect a statement from you later. Sir, you'll be visited for your own statement when you're in a better condition."

"I'm fine," Wes said impatiently. "And where were ambulances when Mr. O'Brien was beaten to death? Where were the Integration Agents all of the other times we've called the emergency numbers?"

"I will absolutely look into that," Shay said calmly. "But I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the situation and can't get you any answers right now."

Shay continued to talk to Wes, charming him into shutting up. That gift of his had to be magical. I didn't care what anyone said.

The ambulance arrived, and while the paramedics were bundling Wes into the van, Shay pulled me aside. "You and I need to talk, Delaney."

"Big time," I said. "When are you free?"

"I'll be in my office for the rest of the day. I'll wait for you. I know you'll be in the hospital with him for a while. You must be good friends if he was prepared to take a bullet for you."

I pretended my cheeks weren't burning. "Long story. See you later." I hopped into the ambulance with Wes and held his hand as the shock finally kicked in. He trembled all the way to the hospital, and I figured he had just realised how close he had come to death.

"It's going to be okay," I said, trying to sound reassuring.

"The world's gone to hell," he muttered.

"And it's all my fault."

He squeezed my hand. "Nah. Bad things existed before you showed your face. Were they human or... other?"

I thought back. I had barely been aware of it, but I had reached out momentarily with my senses while most of the gang members were escaping. The brunette was definitely human, as were two or three of the others, but the rest all had at least a trace of something other. "Both," I said. "I don't know how that'll shake out."

"I've never even seen a gun before," he said. "Apart from television."

"I was shot once," I said.

The paramedic shook his head as though in disbelief.

"Seriously?" Wes stopped shaking.

"Yeah." I laughed softly. "A vampire wanted to see what would happen."

"You've had a strange life since you left us."

I pursed my lips. "I had a stranger one before I left, Wes."

After that, we were silent for the rest of the journey to the hospital. As his injury wasn't particularly significant, and he had been treated by the paramedics, Wes had to wait to be seen. We sat side by side in uncomfortable chairs in a room full of people in various degrees of distress. I spent most of the time trying to come up with harmless subjects to discuss. I was pretty sure he was doing the same.

"Hurting yet?" I asked at last.

"Like a bitch," he said. "You don't have to wait, you know."

"Kind of feel responsible."

"Something was going to happen, no matter what. If there hadn't been a gun, there would have already been violence. Everyone's sick of being pushed around. And Mr. O'Brien was a part of the neighbourhood. His death was like... an attack on all of us." He shook his head. "Things are changing. People are talking about stocking up on weapons like it's nothing." He gestured toward his shoulder. "Maybe I should be doing the same."

"I'm sorry," I said. "Nobody should have to go through things like this." I met his gaze. "Look, I'm really sorry about everything, Wes. You're right. I know you're right. I should never have tried to make that decision on your behalf back then. It was wrong, and I understand if you hate me forever. But I'd really like to explain myself. I wasn't being cold. I swear to you, I wasn't. In part, I was trying to stop things like this from happening. I failed, but I tried."

"You really think today was about you?"

"What else am I supposed to think? It turned bad when I showed up." I flexed my fingers. "I will always care about you, and I'll always be grateful for the way you treated me when I lived... back home. But there are things I want to forget and people I want to protect. Knowing me can be a curse. I'm a magnet for bad shit. And if you know me, if people know I care about you, then you're vulnerable. The quickest way to hurt me is to hurt the people I care about, and most of them are already safe. They live in... safe buildings."

"So make my building safe," he said.

"It's not that easy. There are rules, and... it's too hard to explain in one conversation, but you were the most vulnerable person, and I had to do something. But I was being selfish, too."

"How so?"

"The thing with Nancy... I just wanted to stop spending my life being defined by the way she treated me. I wanted to move on, and at the time, I thought the quickest route was a clean slate."

"And she was suffering from her memories of you."

I sucked in a shaky breath. "That, too. But with you... I don't know what it is, Wes, but when I'm around you, I become this scared teenage girl again, someone who needs to be protected. Even today, you basically took a bullet for me."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"I need to be able to take care of myself. I need it so badly. The girl you knew died years ago. She doesn't exist in this world—she _can't_ exist. She would never survive. And I want to do more than just survive. I want to live and experience and not have to worry so much. I'm so sorry for what I tried to do to you. I just didn't want to be that girl again, and I thought maybe your life would be better if it wasn't tangled up in anything to do with me. You deserve so much more than that."

After a moment, he said, "I see. I'm not sure what I was expecting you to say."

"I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. But it's all the truth."

"You don't need me anymore," he said. "That's basically what you're trying to say. Why does that hurt so much?"

A lump in my throat ached. "I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that," he said. "But I don't think you need to. Not anymore. But I'd like to remember that girl, the one who doesn't exist anymore, because for a long while, she was the most important person in my life."

His name was called. "Want company?" I dared ask.

"I'd love some," he said.

I was pretty sure that meant something good had come of me baring my soul to him.

An orderly brought us to a tiny room three corridors away, where a nurse inspected his injury. He exchanged pleasantries while I sat in the corner, trying to make myself invisible. Without even trying, I had dragged Wes into drama. That gun had been for me only; I was certain of it. Something odd was going on, and I couldn't make sense of any of it. The incident with the gun could have been a way to get rid of me and steal back a baby—except the protection racket had started way before the baby showed up on my doorstep.

We had been in the room for a few minutes when the door burst open, and a tall, willowy blonde came in like a whirlwind. "Oh, my God," she said, sinking against the doorway with relief. "You're okay. I got a phone call saying you were shot? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Wes said, unable to stop a huge smile from crossing his lips. "Come here."

She went to him, and he kissed her. "I was so scared."

"I promise you, I'm fine. We had trouble, but my friend Ava came to help us. It could have been worse."

My cheeks burned as the woman looked at me. "Thank you," she gushed.

"Actually, I didn't do anything," I said. "Wes was responsible for the heroics today."

She turned to him and grinned.

"Ava, this is my girlfriend, Diane," Wes said gently.

"It's so nice to meet you," she said, and I could tell she was completely unaware of who I was—in relation to Wes and the supernatural.

"Well, I should head on," I said. "You seem like you're in good hands. If you have any more trouble, you know where I am, but I think Shay will be on top of the situation in future. Nice to meet you, Diane. Good luck, Wes. No more stopping bullets with your body."

Laughter followed me out the door. I experienced the weird sensation of floating on air; I checked to make sure I was actually walking on solid ground. I was over Wes, and over the past, but a part of me mourned for the girl who had loved him, the one who would have been heartbroken to meet his girlfriend.

I walked home slowly, trying to make sense of the last couple of days. I was missing something. I had to be. The shooter was too well-spoken— _posh_ as Moses would say—and the rest of her wimpy little gang had been wearing clothing from brands I couldn't even afford to say, never mind buy. If they were hassling people for money all over the city, somebody out there had to notice. And the gun had to have come from somewhere. Too much of it was bothering me, so I called Moses.

"What's up?" he answered.

"I have questions." The ex-scumbag was in the know about a lot that went down on the streets of Dublin, and I hoped he could give me some ideas—and a distraction from the niggling details that didn't fit together in my brain.

"Ask away, darlin'."

"Seriously, don't make me vomit."

His husky laughter forced me to hold the phone away from my ear for a moment. "All right, _love_. What's going on?"

I ignored his teasing mood. "Somebody tried to shoot me today," I said. "Contrary to popular belief, it's not an everyday occurrence for me."

"Jesus fucking Christ. Are you all right?"

"Friend of mine got in the way instead. He's okay, though."

"Carl?"

That made me sad. I doubted Carl would be inclined to stop bullets for me. "No, not Carl," I said. "This protection racket thing has been going on in my old neighbourhood. They're looking for money to protect the community from any gangs who might pop up. But this place isn't exactly crime central. And if it wasn't for the gun, this group wouldn't exactly have come across as hardy criminals. Any ideas?"

He blew out what was likely a puff of smoke. "Nah, but we've having our own trouble here, so I haven't been clued in to what's going on elsewhere."

"What's going on in the flats?"

"Ah, we're inundated with loan sharks. They're like rats, invading every corner of the place. Half the people around here don't understand interest rates and all that shite. A lot of people have lost their jobs around here lately, so a bit of easy money helps tide them over, ya know?"

"A _lot_ of people? That's some run of bad luck." Suspiciously so. I quickly thought of everyone else in my life who was having a string of bad luck. Could it be something more?

"But these sharks are fucking pricks," Moses continued, "tricking them into taking more than they can pay back, letting them have the first loan cheap and all. Suckering them in to bigger loans that'll never get paid."

"What happens when they don't pay?" I asked.

"I'm waiting to find out. I haven't seen any of these scummers myself, but they came to the door, wouldn't leave me ma alone until she signed off on a loan. And the thing is, my ma's not that foolish. Knows what's up, does my ma, and she signed up? Doesn't make sense. I'm warning her not to pay a fucking penny because I want to see these shitheads meself."

"You could talk to Shay about it," I said.

"Ah, what can Shay do? This is my home, my problem. I don't know what's getting into people these days. Everyone's on edge, being secretive all the time. I can't get a handle on what's going on."

"You should set up a community loan thing," I said.

"What, like a credit union? Sure, we have those."

"Yeah, but you know the people in your area, the ones who are hard up and who can pay it back. The sharks might leave you alone if they're not needed."

"They've already put the shits up everyone." He coughed into the phone. "I'm not in a good mood at all about it. Did you see that write-up in today's paper about crime increasing this year? What a load of shite. No wonder there's a protection racket going on around when even the papers are scaring the crap out of everyone."

That made me pause. It wasn't completely unlikely that whoever was connected to the article had something to gain from it.

"The guns, though," he said thoughtfully. "If somebody's gun-running, I can try to find out. I still have a few contacts lying around. Here, I'll make a deal with you. You see if you can find out where these loan sharks are coming from, and I'll find out what I can about your scumbags. Somebody out there knows something, but these loan sharks are smart enough to hide their tracks. And the way me ma signed up so quick makes me think there's magic or _something_ involved. That's more your bag, yeah?"

"We need to set up something to stop shit like that from happening," I said. "Sell a house alarm along with a magical relic or two for total protection."

"I'm telling ya, that'll be a winner. So do we have a deal or what?"

"I'll do what I can," I said. "Thanks, Moses. You're right. There is something weird going on. I'll text you everything I know later on, all right?"

After the phone call, I went into the nearest shop to buy a newspaper. Standing outside, I flipped through the pages to find the article Moses had mentioned. It definitely gave a heavy spin on the crime issue, but the article didn't clearly pin the blame on supernaturals. I wondered if the reporter had been encouraged to write up the article by somebody who wanted to stir up trouble in Dublin.

As soon as life cut me some slack, I was going to find the answer to that question, too.

# 6

Back at the cul-de-sac, I spotted Peter working on his car, his sleeves rolled up and his tattoos covered with patches of oil. He glared at me as I passed, and I realised he knew something was going on, but he was too stubborn to ask what it was. If he was going to be so mad at me, then he could keep wondering. After a few steps, I decided I was being beyond childish and turned back, but he had already gone inside. Maybe it wasn't time to try with Peter yet. I had to tread carefully to avoid making things worse when he was obviously on the edge of exploding.

In my living room, I found Leah with Val, Anka, and Dita. By the looks of things, Anka had made everyone dinner. By the smell, it wasn't something she had learned to cook in Ireland.

"I left some in the oven for you," she reassured me as I relaxed on the sofa.

I made an effort to look pleased. "Great, thanks. How was Noodle?"

"Oh, you were serious about that, too." Val made a face. "Sleepy."

Anka folded her arms over her chest. " _Too_ sleepy for a baby."

"We were discussing the possibility that there may be the remnants of some kind of spell over the child," Val said. "Something that may have made it easier to take her and leave without anyone hearing her cry."

I sat up and frowned. "That sounds dangerous."

"It sounds desperate," Leah said from where she sat cross-legged in the armchair.

"There's blood on your jacket," Dita piped up.

I looked at my sleeve and ineffectually scrubbed it with the other one. "Not mine."

"What happened?" Val asked.

I leaned back and stared up at a massive web tangled around the lightshade on the ceiling. I hadn't had the heart to clean it up, and I knew the spider that had made the thing was probably laying a million eggs somewhere. But it felt rude to brush away what amounted to another living creature's life's work—pretty much what I felt was happening to me lately.

"It was weird," I said slowly. "I got the feeling that the gang were waiting on me, and I'm not sure if I'm just being paranoid."

"What made you think that?" Val asked.

"My gut is suspicious of everything right now. But they were so... bland. A couple of humans, a whiff of something extra about the others, and most of them not far off from their teens. Nothing about them screamed what team they were working on."

"Perhaps they're not on a team." Val didn't sound convinced.

"They were just hanging around, winding people up, until I arrived, then suddenly, one of them points a gun at me and shoots. No warning. I felt as though that was why they were there, using Wes and the others to lure me. Wes pushed me out of the way and got skinned by the bullet. When they heard the sirens, they just ran. I caught the shooter, but I've no idea if Shay's IAs managed to pick up any of the others." I sank my fingers into my hair and squeezed. "Shit, I forgot. I was supposed to go back to Shay to give him a statement."

"You should tell him about the baby." Anka reached out and slapped Dita's hand from her stitches without missing a beat. "I think we're all agreed that Shay is unlikely to be working for any slave trader."

"Not knowingly," I murmured.

"I can watch the baby if Val needs to leave," Anka said, "while you go to Shay and finish your business with him. Perhaps he can help find this child's family."

I stretched. "Thanks. I hadn't thought about it, but it's possible the baby was kidnapped, and the police are keeping it low-key. After all, Shay's been crazy busy every time I ring him lately. Leah, anything I can bring to Shay?"

I sat up to look at her. She was seventeen, but still as thin and childlike as when we'd first met. Her hair hung limply around her face, and her blue eyes widened as she gazed at the baby.

"There's something," she said. "But it's incredibly subtle. There may be something in the way, something putting a dampener on what she can do, but I would guess at her being descended from some kind of witch. She has that glimmer radiating from her. It's small, but I can feel it. The problem with witches is that it's impossible to know how it will manifest. They don't use their power from birth. Some don't begin to use magic until later in life. It's almost like it's hidden away until it's unlocked, and every witch has a different key, so it's something they must figure out on their own. Some never find a way to their magic."

"So she could run at either end of the power spectrum." I studied the basket as though it could give me answers. "And the person who owns this brand can't know if she's valuable to anyone else—at least not yet."

I got up and rummaged in my desk for a pen and paper to sketch the shape of the brand. It wasn't like Emmett's or Leah's, but that didn't tell me much.

"Do you think someone may recognise the brand?" Val asked.

"It's worth a try. If there are other slaves, they must be keeping them somewhere. They can't be in Hell again, so they must be above ground, and as Noodle is so young, they could be nearby. Unless she was brought in from another country." That would certainly ease my guilt. "What if it's some kind of weird adoption scheme? Selling babies to desperate parents or something."

"Then why the brand?" Anka asked. "It's no small task to tattoo a child, especially one so young."

"Something to hold over the parents in case they ever think about telling?" I frowned, thinking it through. "The parents claim they've adopted a needy child, but the brand says they've bought a slave. It could be a form of leverage, a way to keep people in line." I sighed. "Or none of the above. This is infuriating."

"Shay has the resources to help," Val said. "I agree that he should be told."

"Anyone heard from Carl?" I asked.

None of them had.

"No matter." I got up to leave. "Dinner will have to wait. I might as well get this over and done with. Call me if anything happens here."

Exhausted, I headed out again and hailed a taxi to take me to Shay's office across town. The Integration Unit's base was away from any major police stations or important government buildings, and I was pretty sure that was Shay's doing.

We drove by the Senate's public meeting place. Although there were no meetings planned for that evening, outside was lively. The woman I had noticed on television was preaching to a growing crowd of what I could only consider fanatics. I lowered the window and caught a couple of sound bites such as "threat to society" and "demonic influences on our children."

Again, Humans First were conveniently ignoring not only the fact that we had extra police on the streets, including a dedicated force to counteract supernatural threats, but also that Phoenix had worked hard at completely outlawing demonolatry. It was official—no demons allowed. And yet it was still one of the protesters' favourite lines to spout. Didn't anybody actually listen anymore? Or at least find out the facts for themselves?

"Lazy," I muttered.

"That lot will bring Hell on their heads," the taxi driver remarked. "Mark my words. They're making their beds, and they won't like lying in them. If any supernaturals organised like that, talking about how evil humans are, it'd be nipped in the bud, quick smart."

"Give it time."

"Imagine if the vampires start getting tired of this. I know I am, and I'm human. If they keep pissing off the wrong people, it'll be a bloodbath."

And then the hate could truly begin. The taxi driver might complain, but the humans were doing nothing about people like the protesters. And the government appeared to be too scared to do anything, either. Until humans saw supernaturals as people, there could be no human deaths without massive consequences, no parity amongst our species. We would always be treated on a different level and our actions perceived as threats, while theirs were above reproach. And that was how the majority wanted it, I realised. The vampires didn't want to be on the same level as humans. The fae would never see themselves as on par with the shifters, and people like me fit in nowhere at all. That was depressing.

The driver continued chatting about the state of the country while I murmured monosyllabic answers in a vain attempt to stop him. When we arrived outside the Integration Unit's main building, he chortled. "There's me banging on about supernatural rights, and you're probably one of them. Well, I wouldn't be too pissed if one of you got rid of those protesters clogging up the side streets during peak times." He laughed as though he were the funniest person in Dublin, maybe even the world.

"If something like that happened, Humans First would multiply overnight." I paid him and got out before he dragged me into another conversation.

The building was quiet but well lit. It was made up of mostly offices, but I knew it had been built on a section of the city that was hidden underneath the surface. I hadn't yet discovered what exactly was down there.

Inside, I spoke to a cheery receptionist, who directed me up two flights of stairs. I went upstairs, bypassed yet another receptionist, and finally came to Shay's door. I rapped sharply until he called out for me to come in.

"I've a couple of things to talk about," I said before realising Phoenix was sitting in the chair across from Shay's desk. "Ah, shit." I hadn't wanted to tell Phoenix about the baby for the exact same reason I was reluctant to share the information with Peter.

Phoenix raised his eyebrows, but he didn't say a word.

"Sorry I'm late," I told Shay. "I got... caught up in a few things. Do you still need my statement?"

"Just give me something informal for now," he said. "I'll have someone type up one for you, and you can take a look at it and make changes some other time. My assistant's gone home, but I'll have him send it over to your house tomorrow."

"All right." There were no chairs, so I sat on a countertop by the wall where I could see both men at once. I rattled off my side of the story as quickly as possible. "Wes is fine," I ended. "He'll be able for an interview, I should think."

"We already spoke to him," Shay said, but he was frowning.

"Catch any of the others?" I asked hopefully.

"No," he said. "A vehicle must have been waiting for them."

"They were waiting for me," I said.

"That's how the other witnesses make it sound," Shay said. "Who have you pissed off lately?"

I couldn't resist a glance at Phoenix. "Who haven't I pissed off might be easier to manage. Something's going on. Not just to me. To everyone around me." I held up my hand to tick things off with my fingers. "My old, quiet neighbourhood is targeted by a protection racket. Emergency services never show up. Not once. Not until I called you directly, Shay."

"The calls were never processed," he said. "We're investigating how that happened. It's a blind spot on our end, obviously, and we will fix it."

"But it only happens in _my_ old neighbourhood," I continued. "And one of the few people who were ever nice to me gets murdered."

Shay cleared his throat. "The beating didn't kill him. A stroke did. Granted, it was likely brought on by the stress of the attack."

"Bull," I said. "Mr. O'Brien was old as dirt. You don't hurt somebody that old without knowing that they could die from it. They _murdered_ him, and they deserve to pay for that. Get me in with that bitch who shot Wes, and I'll get her to talk."

"Absolutely not," he murmured.

"Get back to your theory," Phoenix said, relaxing into his chair.

I glared at him. "Fine. Take Moses, for example. People are losing their jobs all over the place in the flats. Conveniently, loan sharks turn up, and even smart people are having a hard time turning down their offers. A _magically_ hard time. Another connection to me, another anomaly."

"That's not much to go on," Shay said. "It's not exactly related."

"There's more," I said. "You'll see what I mean at the end. So there are other things. Bad luck, you might say. Carl lost his job at the school."

Both men exchanged surprised glances.

"Anka's apothecary shop was keeping her busy. Now the customers are drying up. Same for Val and Peter, for Dave's garage, and—"

"Hold on," Phoenix said. "You're saying that poor business is connected to everything else." He allowed himself a small smile. "Have you ever considered that—"

"Shay, have there been any kidnappings lately?" I said, ignoring Phoenix. "Specifically children."

Shay exchanged a glance with Phoenix. "Not that I've heard."

I fished in my pocket for the sketch I made of Noodle's brand. I held up the paper. "Does this look familiar?"

Phoenix frowned. "There is something... I can't place."

"Ava, what is this?" Shay asked. "What's going on?"

"A baby was left on my doorstep," I said. "A baby with a fresh slave brand on its neck. _This_ brand."

I gave them a moment to process.

"What?" Shay said. "A baby? And you never said anything?"

"How was I supposed to know who I could trust? The baby, combined with this bad luck stuff, gives me a sick feeling that something big is going on."

"There are still slavers," Phoenix said in a quiet voice. "They're still out there. My mother—"

"Is dead," I said firmly. "But somebody's been trying to take her place. The person who left the baby made it clear they didn't want to be found themselves. I'm not sure if the baby is the first, one of many, or what. All I know is that I have to protect her from anyone who might come for her. And I need to find out who that is."

Phoenix jumped to his feet. "That assassin of my mother's. I'm going to take him in and—" The violence in his voice astounded me.

"You think I haven't already talked to him? I did. He has no clue what's going on."

"And you believed him?" The volume of his voice didn't rise, but the tone sent shivers down my back.

"Yes, I believed him. I do that, remember?"

That stopped him in his tracks.

I was aware that Shay was watching us both closely, and I took a deep, calming breath. "Nate gave me his theories, and I went away happy that he wasn't in the official know."

"And what were these theories?" Phoenix gestured toward me in a scornful manner. "Were they as brilliant as you make them sound?"

"Phoenix," Shay said warningly.

We both ignored the human. My face grew hot, and I forgot to be wary and careful. "Yeah, they were pretty good, Phoenix. Nate reckons it would have to be someone with connections, someone ancient, someone who could wield favours like weapons, probably."

"Such as?" His mask was back. I couldn't tell if he was about to laugh or murder me.

"You, actually!"

"I'm no ancient," he scoffed.

"As opposed to? It wouldn't be hard for the son of a slaver to take the reins. Carry on the business. Have access to the connections and all the rest." I narrowed my eyes. "Especially one with the loyalty of the fae and the Senate behind him."

He stood and approached me. "Did _you_ agree with this theory?" He raised his voice. "Do _you_ actually believe I could be capable of running the slave trade?"

I stood, too, determined not to let him cow me for a change. "I told him it couldn't possibly be you." I held firm, my hands on my hips. "But if it did turn out to be you, I would rip you apart limb from limb myself for being such a traitor."

I readied myself for... I wasn't sure what. Phoenix loomed over me, bent down, and touched his nose to mine, somewhat affectionately. I was so disturbed and surprised that I took a couple of steps back. He did smile then, but when he straightened and faced Shay, his professional manner had returned. Shay looked as unsettled as I felt. Phoenix just wasn't predictable.

"We need to deal with this ourselves," Phoenix said in a bland tone. "We can't reveal anything to the Senate. Not yet. Not until we find out what is going on."

Shay cleared his throat and busied himself with rearranging pages on his desk. "Well, my agents can take a look into the protection racket and the loan sharks. I'll find out what's going on with Carl myself. There'll be an investigation into the emergency services and how the calls are processed."

"And I'll figure out who blacklisted the businesses, if anyone did." Phoenix shot me a wry glance. "But we'll all have to work on the slavery aspect."

"I'll ask questions," I said. "There are a few people who could be useful. If anyone comes up with answers, I'll let you two know."

"Where is the child now?" Phoenix asked, his voice neutral, as though we hadn't just been basically shouting at each other a minute before. How could he look so relaxed when my hands refused to stop shaking?

"Val and Anka are watching over the baby. Leah came over and gave her take. She reckons the child has some kind of magic, like a witch or something, but that it's impossible to tell at this stage how much power is there or even if it will ever manifest. It's not an exact science."

"Magic," Phoenix murmured. He looked at Shay. "There is Clementine."

"You trust her with this?"

"She may know if a baby witch has gone missing. The witches can be secretive. Who knows? She could be able to track the bloodline—if we're lucky."

"Who's Clementine?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Someone who wants Mac's seat on the Senate," Shay said. "She'll likely do whatever she has to, Phoenix, just to earn her place."

"I don't trust witches," I said.

"We have very little to go on," Phoenix said. "I feel we are left with no choice. We must speak to her about this. In confidence, of course."

I was too tired to argue. "If we're done here, I'm going to head home," I said. "I'm exhausted."

"I'll give you a lift," Shay offered.

"Nah, I'm good." I hesitated. "How's Nick?"

Phoenix met my gaze, a guarded look in his eyes. "Better, but he refuses to go back to the school. The pack is mostly in agreement that the cubs' time with the school has ended."

"Giving up already?" I shoved my hands deep in my pockets. "Tell Nick that Dita said she can't wait to show him her epic scar. She's taken it upon herself to be his champion, I think."

Something unrecognisable flickered in his gaze. "I'll let him know."

I left the pair to figure out what they were planning to do next. All I knew was how I wanted to approach everything. I began the walk home, watching out for a taxi. I left a message for Jessica. My fellow tainted nephal had made contacts of her own while hiding in Dublin, and I hoped she could get me in touch with one of them. The man had organised a sanctuary for refugees and exiles, and it was possible he would know of any current slaves on the run. And if anyone knew about slave-running in the UK, it would be Jessica and her friends. But I was pinning my hopes on the child being a one-off circumstance, because the alternative was just too awful to consider.

# 7

I was busy making a list of people I could talk to when someone knocked at my front door. Noodle stirred slightly, but she didn't wake, so I got up to answer the door. Phoenix stood there with a woman I had never met before. She was tall and curvy, with light toffee-coloured skin, freckles, and coarse red curls that she made no attempt to contain.

"Ava, this is Clementine," Phoenix said. "She's the witch we discussed. I've brought her here to take a look at the baby and see what she thinks."

I hesitated. "I don't know if—"

"If she's a witch, then my coven wish to protect her." Clementine's accent had a trace of something French. "We protect our own."

I shot Phoenix a glare, but he brushed past me without invitation. I scowled. "Come in then."

The pair headed into the living room, where the baby was resting in her basket.

"Ah," Clementine said. She lifted Noodle into the air, well away from her body, and peered at the baby as though she were an object rather than a person.

"Careful," I said, automatically reaching out to take her.

Phoenix shook his head and pushed my hand back down.

"I hope you know what you're doing," I whispered.

His hand moved to my lower back. "So do I. Now, watch."

A golden glow emitted from Clementine and shrouded Noodle. Then it dispersed as though a puff of wind had blown it away.

"Interesting," she muttered before putting the baby back into the basket.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

Clementine lifted the basket onto the coffee table and peered at the child. "There is something there." She looked up at Phoenix, and I could have sworn her brown eyes momentarily contained red and gold flecks. "There's a spell surrounding her. If it hasn't worn off by now, then we'll have to strip it away."

"What do you mean 'strip it'?" I asked, suddenly on edge.

Phoenix's fingertips applied pressure.

"We'll clarify the magic and start over. It's the only way to truly see what we have here."

"But you won't know what kind of power she has," I said.

She looked at me. "Not until she's older. That's not important. If somebody is enslaving witches, then we must find them. There have been instances in history when witches were enslaved and their magic used for deadly purpose. None of us want those kinds of horrors inflicted here."

"What can you do for me?" Phoenix asked. "Can you find out where the baby came from or who branded her?"

Clementine tapped her chin as she considered the possibility. "If my entire coven can work on this, we should be able to form some kind of tracking spell, one that works backward, retracing her path, as it were. We may be able to discover where she was born."

"How long will that take?" Phoenix asked.

"Oh, at least a week," she said. "No more than ten days, provided we're all a part of the circle and maintain prolonged contact with the child. The supplies will cost you, but it will be worth it."

"You guarantee you'll find the child's origin?" he asked.

"Wait! What do you mean 'maintain prolonged contact'?" I demanded.

She ignored me. "I give you my word we'll find where she came from."

Phoenix nodded. "There's a building on the grounds of the children's home where you can hide her."

"What? No!" I said. "You can't take her from here. They gave her to me to protect. I have to keep her here, where it's safe."

"You're not a witch," Clementine said brusquely.

"Fuck witches. Nobody left her on your bloody doorstep, did they?"

"Perhaps they didn't have time," she said coldly.

Phoenix dug his fingers into my shoulders and made me look at him. "She'll be safe in the children's home. Nobody will know, not even Alanii."

"She's safe _here_. People can't come in here to cause us harm."

"What if they don't intend to? What if they come to take the baby, and a fight ensues? Does your protection reach that far? The protection did nothing when Nick was here."

"You don't understand," I whispered, my panic rising. "I have a job to do, a duty to uphold, and I can't let you take her. I... I feel it." I felt more than duty or a job. I wanted to keep Noodle safe myself. I didn't trust anyone else to do it. And I would miss her.

"Is she a lost soul?" he murmured under his breath.

I hesitated too long.

"Well, then," he said with finality.

"She's a connection to it," I snapped. "I have to find the one who left her here. _That's_ my lost soul, and I... stop it!"

Clementine was walking out the door with Noodle's basket.

I made to grab the basket, but Phoenix pinned me against his chest. "We need her, Ava. She can find the baby's origin, lead us to the slavers. She can help us fix everything. It'll take a week, and then we'll know."

"But the _baby_!"

"It's more important to find the slavers," he said firmly.

I kicked him, scrambled out of his arms, and raced outside, screaming at the witch to stop. She kept walking, apparently unconcerned.

Peter rushed out of his house as Phoenix grabbed me again.

"You don't understand!" I screamed. "You have to stop!" The panic was suffocating me, and I wasn't even sure if I was afraid that Noodle was leaving or that she leaving with the witch.

Peter took one look at the situation and made a choice. He ran for the witch. I broke free again and raced after him. The witch held up one hand, and Peter ran straight into an invisible barrier and fell back on the ground, his head smacking against the concrete with a sickening crack.

A fury rose up inside me—one I had to quickly contain. The protection around the buildings came to life, whistling in my ears as it reached for Clementine. The magic there was ancient, older than any living witch, and ready to punish the one who had harmed a protected occupant of the cul-de-sac.

But she was holding the baby, and if Noodle got hurt, I would never forgive myself. I gathered the violence to me, sucking it back just in time. I wasn't sure how, but the protection felt sentient, as if it had reluctantly obeyed me. Clementine shivered as though she sensed something brush against her, but she kept walking, and glimmers of magic followed in her wake.

Phoenix reached me and took my arm as I almost fell to my knees from the weight of the magic I had just disarmed. "What just happened?" he asked.

I jerked away from him, focusing my anger on him. "That was a mistake," I hissed, and this time, I spoke with the power of the Eleven behind me. They spoke with me, displeased that he had interfered in my mission, and I knew then with certainty that the baby had been the key to something _I_ needed to do.

For the first time, I saw true fear in the fae prince's eyes. I shot him one last look of disgust before hurrying over to Peter.

"Are you okay?" I asked, helping him sit up.

"Hit my head. I'll be fine." He wiped a trickle of blood from behind his ear. "What the hell just happened? Was that a _baby_?"

"Quick version is that somebody left a newborn on my doorstep. She was marked with a slave brand, and now Phoenix has let the witches take her to the children's home."

Phoenix reached us. "They can find out where she comes from," he tried again.

"No," I said harshly. "She took her from where it was safe. That woman hurt Peter, and you let her. Noodle is my responsibility, and—"

"Noodle?" both men said as one.

"If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive you."

"Nothing will happen," Phoenix said. "I promise you."

"I don't believe you anymore." I turned my back on him. "Just go, Phoenix. Do whatever you want—just don't get in my way."

After a moment, Phoenix left, but I refused to look at him. I helped Peter into his house to clean up his wound.

"You should have told me what was going on," he said as I dabbed his head.

"Yeah, well, you were already pissed at me. I didn't need the mention of slavery to completely blow your mind."

"A warning would have been nice." He gripped my wrists to stop me poking at the wound. "Are you okay? You looked pretty devastated back there."

I gave up on playing nurse and sat on one of his kitchen chairs. "I was supposed to take care of her, and they just walked in and took her. I couldn't do anything. They think they know better. I hate when I feel so... powerless."

"And you got attached," he guessed.

"She was my little noodle," I said, pouting when he laughed. "And that was the second time Phoenix... never mind. This just feels so wrong. I don't know this witch. She said her coven can find out where the baby was born in a week or so. And maybe she can, but that's plenty of time for the place to find itself suddenly abandoned."

"The children's home is pretty safe."

"That's because of the children. They won't even know she's there. Maybe I should ask Noah to keep an eye out."

"He would do that." He paused, his searching gaze studying my face. "When the witch knocked me down with magic, you did something, right?"

"More like I stopped something." I blew hair off my face. "The magic here wanted to punish her, and I stopped it just in time in case the baby got hurt. I'm not even sure how. Maybe they're right. Maybe the baby is safer with them."

"Seems like I've missed a lot."

I gave him a sheepish look. "I'm sorry about everything with Emmett and Nick and that stuff," I said. "I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. You know I love the kid. I just wanted to help another kid, too."

"I do get that. But I came home to see one of the people I hate most next to my bleeding kid. I about lost my mind." He pressed his lips together as he considered his words. "If the cul-de-sac didn't try to punish Nick that day... look, I know Emmett probably had his side of the blame, too. He's been going around with a big guilty head on him."

"That's because Dita's mad at him." I kicked his shoe. "You still mad at me?"

"Don't have time to be. Tell me everything that's happened."

So I did. I talked about everything I could think of. Every time I went through the list, I felt as if I were missing something.

"So you think somebody's been slyly targeting the people you know?"

"It's more like a subtle headfuck," I said. "I mean, I don't know if it has anything to do with the baby at all, and it likely doesn't, but I feel like we've had this invisible enemy for a while now. Somebody who isn't ready to show themselves. And I'm not sure if I want to wait around for that." I sighed. "Keeping the baby here was probably the selfish thing to do."

He reached out and touched my arm. "If you say that the baby was meant to be here, then I believe you. I'm on your side." He let go. "What now?"

"Now?"

"You're not giving up, are you?" He smiled. "That's pretty unlike you."

I stared at my hands and thought about it. "I can't stop the government from taking a baby. Legally, the child has nothing to do with us." I looked up and held his gaze. "But there are more important things in the world than the rules. I'm supposed to watch out for that child, and if the witches will take at least a week to figure out one stupid spell, then I'm going to have to be faster. Whoever lost that child will be looking for her."

"And where better to look than the children's home," he said. "If I had lost an important child, someone who could draw attention to a business I want kept secret, then I would do whatever I could to get them back. And I would start by watching the important players. Phoenix, the rest of the Senate, the school, the home, and this place."

"Here?"

"Like it or not, you're important. Remember, we all of us helped fight back against the slave market. We're all linked to that event. If anyone is going to stop a slave trader, it's likely to be someone who did it before."

"So they could have been watching us all along," I said. "All this time, though? Why not attack us, get rid of us altogether?"

"Playing it smart." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Taking it slow."

"Like an ancient would."

He nodded. "This is a long play, right? Maybe this notion you have about our bad luck being manufactured is a long play, too. Yeah, seriously, if I was going to take over Fionnuala's business, I'd be a fool if I wasn't watching the people who stopped her in the first place."

"So Phoenix could have just sent out a Bat Signal, you mean." I hesitated. "Think he did that on purpose? He wants the slave trader more than he wants to protect the baby, I think."

"His children were taken from him for a long time," Peter said, and I heard the tightness in his voice. "I can't say I'm not on the same page. Emmett was taken from me, too. I want to destroy whoever has taken over the business. But we need to be smarter than last time."

"No loose ends," I said. "I don't suppose VBI is free to take up a job for me."

He grinned. "On this, we'll even work for free." He took my hand. "Listen, things are awkward, and I know that, but this... this is bigger than us. Bigger than most things."

"We screwed up somewhere," I said. "Let someone get away."

"And now we can't trust anybody," he said. "But we can trust each other, right?"

I held his gaze. "On this, we're all we can trust. I need to find the baby's mother. Anything that could lead me to her is worth following. We have a week before the witch gets her way. If she succeeds, she'll find her way to Mac's seat on the Senate. I think we can safely say we're not going to be her allies. Even when you hate me, I still don't want anyone to hurt you. That witch is not welcome here." And I meant it, felt the notion travelling outward as though it were a command. I shivered at the sensation. It made me feel powerful.

"Then we had better get moving," Peter said. "This was always our battle. We just didn't realise we hadn't finished it."

* * *

I loitered outside Daimhín's home, hesitant to meet with the vampire queen. She was on the Senate and couldn't be trusted for a multitude of reasons, but she was ancient. She could be involved. It would make sense. She didn't exactly have morals or scruples.

A shifter greeted me at the front door. I'd learned her name was Lorna, and that she was a likely candidate for alpha should the seemingly cursed position come open again.

"You're not expected," she said.

"Something popped up. Didn't expect to see you still working around here."

She shrugged. "It's a job."

"How do you find the new alpha?"

"He'll do." She cocked her head to the side. "For now."

"He's not like Mac."

"That's never a bad thing." A growl emitted from her throat. "Keeping captives was a lowly, despicable act."

"Because they were shifters."

"Because they were _people_ ," she said, looking disgusted. Then the cunning returned to her gaze. "Why do I feel as though I just answered a question you were afraid to ask?"

I grinned. If the shifter knew that Daimhín was running a slave trade, she would be the first to jump ship. "Thanks for the help." I let myself into the house, much to the chagrin of a pale human volunteer running to greet me.

"This isn't a good time," he said breathlessly, following me as I strode toward the living room.

"Never is."

But when I stepped into the room, a noticeable charge of tension surged. Daimhín looked rattled, and when she saw me, she repeatedly smoothed her trousers with hands that I could have sworn were shaking. Eloise, the vampire child, was curled up on the sofa, smiling as she stroked Jules's hair. He lay next to her, his eyes half-closed.

"Am I interrupting something?" I asked.

"Storytime," Eloise said brightly before jumping to her feet. "Race you, Jules." The pair ran away like children, and Eloise's unsettling giggles echoed through the room.

"Can I help you?" Daimhín asked sharply. "You weren't invited. You can't just barge in here like... what is it, Miss Delaney? Can't you see I'm busy?"

She didn't look particularly busy. I cleared my throat. "Are there any ancients in the country that I should be worried about? Ones like Fionnuala, maybe? Ambitious and greedy, for example."

Her gaze widened, and her lower lip trembled. "An ancient? Why... why would you ask that? What have you heard?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Looks like you're the one with a story."

She waved a hand, hurriedly regaining her composure. "I merely thought... it is nothing. Eloise's stories are often without context or logic. More often than not, her words are meaningless. Perhaps her powers are waning as she ages."

"On the lookout for another psychic?" I asked coldly. "Another slave?"

"Eloise is not my slave." She bared her fangs. "She's my subject. Why do you ask of ancients? What have you heard? People talk to you, do they not?"

"Not as much as they should. I was just feeling as though somebody might be... interfering in my life." I couldn't let her know exactly what I worried about. "I'm thinking only an ancient would be that crazy."

"I know nothing of new feuds against you, if that's your query," she said, relaxing a little. Something was most definitely up with the vampires. "If I hear anything, I'll pass word on to you, and I expect you to do the same." She glared at me. "Are we understood?"

"Is somebody messing about with you, too?" I asked.

"Not yet," she said. "One must never be too careful."

She had retreated behind her carefully prim mask. I wouldn't get anything else out of her. Then I thought of a question I could safely ask.

"Hey," I said. "There's still an empty seat on the Senate, right?"

She snorted softly. "If you think you have a chance of claiming it, you are sadly misinformed."

"You're probably right. It wouldn't be smart to sit next to so many enemies. Will it be filled?"

"We need to fill it soon. There are a number of candidates. Few interest me."

I moved to the doorway then hesitated. "I heard a rumour that a witch might be next in line."

She released an undignified sound. "Witches again. Some on the Senate are pushing. There is a coven headed by a pushy, arrogant witch. She's made some friends, I believe."

"Her name wouldn't happen to be Clementine, would it?"

She sat up straight. "Have you crossed paths?"

" _Crossed_ is one word for it." I scowled. "I don't like her much. Has she offered you anything?"

"Nothing I want," she said slowly, taking care with her words. "She did what she had to do for her ambition. She has no love of my kind." Few did.

"I haven't had any good experiences with witches," I said. "If there's anything I can do to get in the way of her taking that seat, let me know."

"A bid for it yourself would be the only obvious option," she said.

I turned my back and left. That was a step too far.

# 8

I stood at the back of a church I had once promised myself I would never again step inside. The old priest was gone, but my memories lingered. Worrying about attending Mr. O'Brien's funeral had kept me awake all night, but sometimes, facing the past wasn't as scary once I stopped running from it. I forced myself to walk into the church, to look directly at familiar faces, and to remember the things that had gone before.

My stomach didn't turn; my breath didn't catch. The accusations made under that roof when I was barely old enough to understand them could no longer touch me. I was _okay_ , and it wasn't a lie. I made mistakes—everyone did—but I liked the person I had become. Accepting myself for who I was dimmed the memories and made the opinions of others matter a little less.

The funeral should have made me sad, but it was more of a revelation than anything else. Halfway through the mass, Wes glanced over his shoulder and caught my eye. He looked surprised to see me.

Afterward, he found me in the crowd and looked me over with concern. "I didn't think you'd come," he said. "How was it for you? Are you all right?"

I smiled. He had changed so little. "I'm fine. How's the shoulder?"

He rotated it. "Itchy. Better than the alternative, though, right?"

I looked from side to side. "Where's Diane?"

"With my mother."

"Ah." I grinned. "I probably shouldn't say hi."

He smiled back. "Only if you're brave."

"She seems nice." I ducked my head. "And you look happy. I'm glad."

"What about you?" he asked, guiding me out of the church. "Anyone nice hanging around? Are you happy?"

We paused at the gates outside the church. "I'm happy, Wes. I—"

"Ava!"

I looked around and noticed Shay jogging toward us. I did not need to speak to him when I was still pissed about Noodle. "Shay," I said coldly. "Wes, you might not remember Shay from the other day, but he's in charge of investigating what's happening around here. If you have any questions, he'd love to answer them. It'd be useful if you could come up with any info on the gang, by the way. Times they appeared, when it started, how many people would turn up, that sort of thing. You never know what might be helpful."

"Yeah, sure," Wes said.

"Great. I'll be in touch."

I turned to leave, but Shay called my name again. "Ava, wait," he said. "I know you're concerned about the—"

"Don't." I held up my hand and clenched my fingers into a fist. "I do not want to talk about that."

"If you'd let me explain..."

"There's absolutely nothing you can say to make what Phoenix did okay. Nothing."

"She got out," he blurted when I turned away again.

"What?" I snapped over my shoulder.

"The shooter. She got out. Before I got a chance to interview her properly. Something went wrong; somebody made a mistake. Her file was mixed up with somebody else. I don't know yet. Bail was posted. Big numbers. Somebody paid it, and now she's gone."

"Of all the..." I glared at him. "Tell me you know who paid."

"Not a clue," he said. "There was some kind of clerical mix-up, and—"

"You mean like the mix-up when people's calls for help went unheard?"

Wes folded his arms. "Maybe the papers need to hear about this."

Distracted, Shay turned to placate Wes. I gave Wes a grateful smile and made my escape. Peter was waiting in his car for me around the corner.

"Everything okay?" he asked when I jumped in next to him.

"Peachy. Can you give me a lift to the offices? I need to speak to Breslin."

"Of course. What's going on?"

"The shooter vanished."

"Wasn't she arrested?" He started the car. "Did she escape?"

"There was some mix-up, and she was bailed out. Lots of money. Nobody knows who bailed her out or where she is now. They hadn't even managed to ID her yet. So that's bloody fantastic."

He drove away, a muscle in his cheek twitching. "Think Breslin can find out?"

"Here's hoping. It just proves that whoever she works for is wealthy. Or her parents are trying to avoid a scandal. And now she has the chance to go after Wes again."

"Val and I can check in with the neighbourhood," he said. "And I'm sure Wes has IAs patrolling the streets."

"Quinn might know more." I aggressively pressed buttons on the radio to change the station. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. Any time I feel like I'm getting somewhere on something, it all goes up in flames."

"Somebody will spot her," he said. "There's no need to worry about her. She's more likely to go after you than Wes."

"Yeah, well, next time she comes at me, I won't be calling Shay for backup. I'll tie her up in my kitchen and make her talk."

He grinned. "She really got under your skin."

"You know I hate smug people. And trust me, this girl was smug." I sighed. "I hope Noodle's okay."

"I hope they give her a better name."

I smacked his arm. "It was just a nickname. Are you busy this afternoon?"

"Not really. What do you need?"

"After Breslin, I want to go back to Dave's garage. While I talk to Noah, can you have a chat with Dave and see if you can get anything out of him, like when his business started to fail?"

"I can try."

And if Moses came up with something on where the gang got their guns, it might give us something else to work on.

My solicitor, Martin Breslin, was in the office when I arrived. His secretary was on maternity leave, and I had organised for a young man named Alex to take over. I had met Alex when he was an unwilling volunteer to a sleazy vampire coven, and he had found trouble with potential employers after his picture was used in a newspaper article discussing "disenfranchised youths turning to the dark side," which was a pile of crap. Surprisingly, Alex was turning out to be an eager and efficient worker who had a tendency to idol-worship everyone he met.

He opened the door, seemingly overjoyed to see us. The broody facade was long gone.

"How's Crystal?" I asked him as he led us to Breslin's office. His girlfriend had been a victim of the same vampires he'd lived with, and he had remained with them to ensure they didn't kill her. I blamed at least a portion of his stupidity on how anaemic he had been at the time.

"She's doing great." He shot me a hopeful look. "Maybe you could help her with a job this summer, too."

I grunted noncommittally. I had to stop organising work for people before that turned into my full-time occupation.

In Breslin's office, Peter and I each took a seat across from the old man whose sole employer had only ever been the Matriarch of the Eleven, regardless of who held the position. I had sort of inherited him, but I was grateful for him.

"Alex has been doing wonderful work," he said. "May he sit in for this visit?"

That surprised me. "Sure. There was a shooting the other day, and the culprit managed to run after her bail was paid. Which wasn't supposed to happen at all, by the way. Is there any way you can find out who paid the bail? Or by some miracle, who the shooter actually is?"

"I'll have a look into it. Do you have the details for me?"

"No, but if you call Shay, he should be able to give you whatever you need." I glanced at Alex. "You need to shut your mouth about this next bit, okay? No pillow talk."

Alex looked mightily offended. "Crystal and I don't—"

"Don't want to hear it," I said. "Not even a little bit." I glanced at Peter. "And you can stop grinning, too." I sighed. "Here's the thing. A baby was left on my doorstep recently. The government took her, but the problem is that she had a slave mark tattooed onto the back of her neck. We've no clues, but we've been talking about the possibility that she could be the result of some ancient deal or an ancient creature trying to step into Fionnuala's shoes. I know there are a ton of books lying around, but I was wondering if any of them might have references to slaves."

"Anything in particular?" Breslin asked as though I had just made an ordinary request.

"Maybe if one type of species is more inclined to own slaves, or run them, if there were old slave markets that were public that might have reopened—anything at all."

"Val and I can help if there are too many books," Peter said. "We don't mind getting into this."

"Actually, Alex has been slowly inputting information from the books into a computer program," Breslin said. "He's become quite familiar with many of the books."

"I will totally look into it," Alex said.

"Are you making a database?" I asked.

"Trying," he said. "In case something happens to the books. I'm scanning them all, taking what information I can, creating case studies. It'll take decades to finish, but paper's unreliable."

"That's cool," I said. "Maybe we'll have to keep you even when the maternity leave is over."

He beamed. "I'll start sorting through the books again," he said before hurrying out of the room.

"Alex might be better off going back to school," Breslin said. "He could do well in my field. As a researcher, he's been superb. He has a knack. And that's basically my primary role."

"Wait. You want _him_ to be a solicitor?" Peter asked.

"I won't be around to intimidate Senates forever, you know." Breslin's brown eyes twinkled. "Is that all you needed?"

"For now. Baba Yaga was so old that she must have known a lot about things like this." I frowned. "It's a pity we can't ask her."

"She kept excellent records," the old man said. "Perhaps you should think about starting, too."

"What do you mean?"

Breslin glanced at Peter warningly. He couldn't talk freely. "Merely that you may find value from writing down your experiences."

I was pretty sure he meant writing about my lost souls. "So Mrs. Yaga did that? Can I see it?"

"There's an entire safe full of her diaries," he said with a smile. "Perhaps it's time you saw them. They might be helpful. In truth, I had forgotten about them all until Alex began rooting around in storage. There's so much more than I ever remember."

"Send some over to me when you get the chance," I said. "And thanks for helping with this."

"That's my job," he said with a smile. "Good luck finding your criminals."

* * *

On the way to the garage, Peter glanced at me. "Don't you find Breslin a little creepy?"

"Creepy?" I shrugged. "Not particularly. Why?"

"Even Alex has gotten weird since he started working there. I always feel like he's sitting on a secret."

"He's sitting on lots of them. Mrs. Yaga was really old."

"I wonder if she's owed any favours," he said thoughtfully. "There has to be some kind of tally somewhere."

"Wouldn't they end with her death?"

"Depends on the favour. And somebody that old must have dealt with everyone. Maybe even a slaver or two."

I shot him a glare.

"What?" he said. "Different times."

I thought about that on the way. Phoenix had lived in different times.

We reached the garage. Dave appeared disappointed to see that Peter's car was running properly. While Peter distracted him, I found Noah half-heartedly working on a car.

"You don't need to eavesdrop," I said. "I'll tell you what they're talking about."

His smile was more of a grimace.

"I need your help," I whispered.

That immediately changed his expression to something hopeful. "Anything."

"Seen anything weird at the children's home? Heard a baby crying, perhaps?"

"A baby? Nah. No new kids at the home. There's been a lot of people hanging around the groundskeeper's house, though."

"Witches?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. The way is cordoned off. Alanii said there's some kind of construction going on, that it's too dangerous to go that way for a while."

"Maybe that's just what she's been told."

"Ari's desperate to find out."

"Maybe she should be careful." I looked over my shoulder then lowered my voice. "Phoenix and a witch took the baby I was telling you about to the home. It's a secret, and the witches are supposed to protect her, but I don't trust them."

"I can watch out for trouble," he said. "But the place is safe."

"Good. But I'm supposed to take care of her, so I can't help worrying."

"I get it." He wiped his hands on a dirty cloth. "These witches are a coven then?"

I frowned at his interest. "Yeah, so?"

"Think they'd take on Ari?"

"I'm not sure that's how it works."

He stepped away from the car and sat on a crate. "She needs something to do. Somebody to help her control her magic."

"She can't control it?"

He frowned. "It's not that. I mean, it's not like she's accidentally blowing things up or anything."

"Then what is it?" I asked softly.

"It's more like, she doesn't seem to know how much power is going to come out. She'll do a spell, and it'll be small. Next time, it'll go farther. She blacks out the corridors if she wants to meet up at night. Usually works perfectly, but sometimes, she blacks out the whole building and then some. And she's so surprised by it—I can tell—but then she acts like it's all a funny joke. Maybe a coven would help her... perfect what she does."

"You should talk to Phoenix about this. I'm not friendly with any witches. But yeah, I agree she should have some help."

He hesitated. "Any word on that halfway house you were talking about?"

I shook my head, and his face fell. "I promise you I'm working on it."

"If I could just prove myself..." His insta-enthusiasm faded. "Doubt they'd even care anyway."

I squeezed his shoulder. "It'll happen." It had better.

* * *

I went to Finn's bar alone that evening, expecting to blend in with a crowd. A couple of customers were scattered around the room, and even the band was playing half-heartedly. I noticed Finn behind the bar and waved. He had a drink in front of me before I even took my seat.

"Quiet night?"

He grimaced. "Lots of quiet nights around here lately."

"Trust me when I say you're not the only one to be having that experience."

"So is this a social or business visit?"

"I'm on a quest for information." I eyed the drink suspiciously. "I was going to ask you—"

A petite woman clambered onto the counter and sat cross-legged to study me. "Is this her?"

I stared back. She looked young, and her pixie cut was the same shade as Finn's red. Watercolour tattoos crawled from her wrist to her inner elbow, where they disappeared under a black crop top. Black kohl outlined blue eyes that refused to look away from my face.

"Yep." Finn sighed. "Ava, meet Ember. She's... family, apparently."

She grinned, revealing teeth a little too sharp to be human. "Us half-fae relations aren't so shameful anymore. Not since the prince took over." She leaned forward to sniff me. "She smells interesting, but I thought she'd be... flashier."

I leaned to the side to look around her. "Finn. Seriously."

"I've told her a million times not to sniff people. She has no manners. Little feral thing," he said affectionately. "So what can I do for you, Red?"

I tried to ignore the unsettling half-fae staring at me. "I was wondering if you've heard any rumours about the fae, enemies of Phoenix, anyone ready to go up against him to get back to the old ways."

Ember gasped then thumped Finn. "I thought you were joking!"

He rubbed his chest. "I'm well known to be on Phoenix's team. People aren't exactly speaking at all around here."

"From before then," I said. "Is there anyone who would have been likely to stand in Fionnuala's shoes when she fell?"

He frowned. "I'm sure there were a few, but..."

I stopped listening because I scented something familiar. Turning, I spotted Carl walking across the room to sit next to a succubus. "Oh, hell, no." I forgot about the fae and followed Carl, my glare firmly fixed on the succubus.

"Didn't I warn you bitches before?" I demanded.

"Jesus," Carl muttered. "Give it a rest, Ava."

"What is this?" I asked. "Has she—"

"She hasn't done anything but listen to me." He scowled. "Maybe you should get some tips sometime. You don't own me. You can't run off anyone who comes near me."

I wilted. "That's not what I meant. It's just... before. A succubus almost killed you."

"We were all warned," the succubus said snippily. "Not that most of us needed the warning. We're not animals, you know."

Finn called my name. "I'll be back," I said. "I just have to—"

"Go," Carl said. "It's obviously important."

I hesitated before heading back to Finn and Ember.

"It's rude to walk off in the middle of a conversation," Finn said, but there was no malice in his tone.

"Sorry," I said, attempting to quickly gather my thoughts. "Can you think of anyone specifically who might be interested in a reappearance of the slave trade?"

Finn and Ember exchanged a look. "Plenty of them," he said. "What's this about? Slaves or Phoenix?"

"Does it matter?"

"I play on Phoenix's team." Finn folded his arms. "So if you know something..."

"The problem is I know very little. Phoenix won't accept slavery as an option," I said. "So if somebody did trade in slaves, they'd be directly opposed to Phoenix, right?"

"He's in a strong position," Finn said. "Yeah, there's always talk, but for the moment, most of us are pretty satisfied with our lot. Not enough time has passed since Fionnuala for any of us to get ratty about the changes."

"It's been a while," I reminded him.

He pointed at his chest. "Fae. _Old_."

"Still," Ember said thoughtfully. "Your fae customer base went down when I started working here."

He waved a hand. "My entire customer base went down when you started working here, Ember."

"That's another thing," I said. "Is bad luck a thing?"

"It can be," he said. "Or the appearance of it can be a cover for something else. A curse of some kind. But business... who would want to put me out of business?"

Ember reached out and slapped Finn's shoulder. "An enemy of Phoenix, duh."

"Or an enemy of mine," I said. "Nobody I know has a booming business lately."

"Fuck slaves," Finn said. "If anyone is targeting my business, I want to know about it. Gabe didn't give me this place just so I could run it into the ground." He held my gaze. "I'll find out anything I can. If there are any rumblings amongst the fae, you'll be the first to know. You'll deal with it, right?"

I nodded my agreement then looked over my shoulder. Carl and the succubus were gone.

# 9

I spent most of the following morning on the phone. So many things were happening, so many hints and clues were right out of our reach, and nobody could tell me anything for sure. There was nothing like a bout of helplessness to keep my rising self-esteem in check.

Moses had an update. The loan sharks hadn't returned yet, but he had been asking around about the protection racket.

"It doesn't make sense," he said. "Nobody knows anything. Nobody's heard anything. Nobody's fighting over territory. Nobody's sold guns to any new players."

"So they're not new."

"Then why haven't I heard anything about them?" He sighed heavily over the phone. "And I got one big dog's back up about it. He's off on the hunt himself now, trying to find whoever's getting in his way. Not that he noticed until I gave him a heads-up about it."

"Wait." I switched the phone to my other ear. "He runs the same kind of thing?"

"Nah, but if anyone needs protection, it'd be from his gang, yeah? So whoever's running this is automatically his opposition. That's the way he thinks. He's going after whoever it is, and we'll see if he finds them."

I really hoped we hadn't just kicked off even more trouble. "So no news at all from the loan sharks? Shay's taking a look into it, too."

"Nah, nothing much. The place is rattling, though. Even me ma. I'm definitely leaning toward the non-human species for this. The brethni haven't picked up anything, but there has to be magic involved. Or something."

"I agree. Someone with power must be behind this, so be careful. We've no idea what we're dealing with. Could just be an ancient player needing to get back in business."

"They might find there's no room for them." I heard him light a cigarette in the background. "How's your man who got shot?"

"He's fine, but the shooter is gone. Some mix-up got her out on bail. I don't know. Turns out they never even had her actual name."

He let out a low whistle. "Jaysus, I wish I'd had a mix-up like that once or twice."

"Only once or twice?" I said wryly.

"Sometimes you _want_ to get inside." He followed that with a husky laugh. "And on that note, I'll let you go. Keep your phone on. I'll be calling you first if anything happens."

After the phone call, I sat at my computer and scrolled through newspaper articles. A week never went by without some crappy clickbait article designed to whip people up into a frenzy. The reporter's name was the same every time: Áine O'Neill. A terrible black-and-white photo of a meek-looking young woman appeared next to her name.

I spent the next two hours reading Áine O'Neill's old articles. She had begun her career at that particular newspaper with non-biased, carefully balanced articles that were engaging and fact-checked—the latter alone made her stand out from the crowd. And then one week—boom! Somebody else seemed to be doing her writing. Anti-supernatural rhetoric, angry accusations of corruption, and embellished crime rates—even the bylines were ridiculously over the top. If Áine O'Neill had a point to make, it wasn't designed to help anyone sleep at night.

I called the newspaper's offices and asked to speak to Áine. The receptionist put me through to her line, but there was no answer. After a couple more tries that afternoon, I finally left a message, asking her to call me. It was probably nothing. Maybe a particular incident had caused her to change her focus, or perhaps her boss was leaning on her to be more sensationalist. But I saw no harm in following it up.

Jessica called me while I was eating a sad little dinner for one. As my first lost soul, she had helped me close a door on an unpleasant chapter of my life. The teenager had been a mess in a lot of ways, but freeing her of a shadow that had haunted both of us since birth had been good for her. After our time together, she moved with her father to settle in England, but we'd kept in touch. We were the only tainted nephal either of us knew.

"How are you and your dad?" I asked. "And Parker, of course."

"Everyone's doing great. I spoke to Gerard. He definitely wants to talk to you. He just needed the right time. Your face is well-known, after all."

"When can we meet?"

"How does this evening sound?" she asked. "I'll text you directions, but he wants to meet at a restaurant after dark. He won't be able to stay long."

"Busy man?"

"More like a paranoid one. But you know how it is."

I did. It was easy to feel paranoid when everyone really was out to get you.

"I don't have anything else on," I said. "I'll be there. Thanks for setting this up, Jess."

"After everything you've done for me, it was the least I could do. You should come over to see me this summer."

"How is it over there? Anything strange?"

She laughed. "There's always something strange."

"But not strange like slave markets or human games, right?"

"Not that we've heard." She paused. "We can dig deeper."

"Stay out of trouble, but if you hear anything, let me know."

We caught up on personal gossip for a bit before hanging up. I was excited to meet with Gerard. As far as I could tell, he was the person people went to when they wanted to make new lives. He had to have come across ex-slaves with stories to tell.

After dark, I headed into the city centre to meet with Gerard. Following Jess's instructions, I ended up on a tiny side-street full of quaint cafes and restaurants that could fit no more than ten people at a time. I found the right restaurant—a dimly lit Italian place that smelled like heaven.

Inside, Gerard was already waiting. He waved me over, and I sat across from him. We were the only customers, so we could talk freely, which was good, considering how close together the tables were positioned.

"I've booked the place," he explained as the hostess shut the door and turned the open sign to closed. "Old favours."

Gerard was human, as far as I could tell. His grey hair was long around the ears and the nape of his neck, but he was balding on top. He had a pleasant, bland face that was easily forgettable. He was soft-spoken, but bulky, built more like a boxer than anything else.

"I'm glad you could make it," he continued. "Jessica told me you have concerns about the slave trade."

"There's been evidence," I said carefully. "I just need to know if it's a one-off."

"A one-off?"

I fidgeted with the salt mill. "As in, if somebody made a deal to exchange their great-great-great-grandchild for something."

"Ah. It's been years since I've come across that kind of situation."

I looked at him. "So it's possible?"

"Anything is possible. Tithes were common at one stage."

"What, like a tax?"

"Of sorts." He frowned. "Not much is known about how it began, but certain families would control regions of the country. As the poor handed their crops to landowners, others handed over their children to appease those more powerful. Churches would take in children in lieu of donations, although that quickly died. I'm convinced tithing began as a positive, actually."

"Children tax is positive?" I shivered. "Not with you there."

"Think about it," he said. "We were once a dreadfully poor country. Families were larger than could be sustained. All of those mouths had to be fed. So the rich and powerful would take a child to ease the household's burden. The child would become an unpaid servant, destined to live out their years at the beck and call of a rich household. Now, occasionally, they were taken to be adopted, sometimes to be the playmate of a child, a nurse to a sickly one. Later, families would exchange a child for a period of time to cover a debt when the harvest failed. As time moved on, the tithed children most certainly grew into slaves, and brands were used as though they were cattle. Families in which magic ran in the blood were particularly susceptible. A number of children might be taken if they showed talent."

"So that's how the slave trade began here? As tithes?"

"From the little we know for sure, it's what I personally believe. I hear a lot of stories, spoken history passed down through generations. Sometimes, the stories connect in ways I cannot ignore. And some debts are long-lasting, even in a modern world." He looked up and smiled as the hostess brought us a rectangular pizza dripping with toppings. "House special," he said. "I hope you don't mind."

The server cut us each a massive slab. Gerard picked up his knife and fork and dug in enthusiastically. "I don't often eat out," he explained when the woman left us alone. "But when I do, it's at the best little places."

"It's good." I took a sip of water, keeping my focus on his reaction. "Have you heard anything recently about slavery?"

"There was one that might interest you," he said. "Not exactly recently, but it got me thinking about your situation. There was a woman, older than you, tired. The life had been drained out of her. She came to me in the dead of night and cried for three days straight. I saw her brands, thought she was scared, but it wasn't that."

"So what was it?"

"She wasn't a slave any longer. She had been indentured to work off a debt belonging to a relative, I believe." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "There was a time when women were the ones used to pay off the debts of males because the men were more likely to be needed in the fields. Some traditions take longer to die than others."

"Shocking," I said wryly.

He smiled. "It will always be the bad acts of a few that history remembers. Now, this woman was a child when she was sent away. Generally, an indentured slave was taken until they no longer served their purpose. Old age or illness would end the deal, and the slave may or may not have been replaced. In any case, some were sent away before their time was up."

The pizza tasted like cardboard all of a sudden. My deal with the Eleven was an indentured servitude of sorts. I wondered what would get me cut off before my one hundred years were up. "So she got old and was kicked out. That's why she was crying?"

"Not in this case." He shrugged. "Although some don't know how to live without being told what to do. In this woman's case, she was able to earn years off her... sentence."

My fork froze in mid-air. "How?"

His gaze turned sad. "By giving them her baby instead. She purposely got pregnant to free herself. The child took twenty years off her sentence, and she earned her freedom. The child, on the other hand, wasn't bound by the same deal so would likely be used up until death, despite the years of service the mother had already invested."

That took a moment to sink in. "She gave her child to the people who enslaved her in order to free herself? Despite knowing the child had no hope of freedom?" I shuddered.

"She was tired," he said. "She couldn't take it anymore."

"Wait," I said. "What happens to children who are born to slaves if their mothers don't trade them?"

"They're sent away," he said. "Who knows what happens next?"

"Meaning they could be slaves anyway," I said slowly. "So what's the point?"

"To encourage breeding, perhaps. To a young woman, twenty years wouldn't free her, most likely. It would take a number of births, a number of children. It's a trade-off. One temporary slave for three born in the business."

"That's sick."

"Don't underestimate desperation. Anyhow, her story came to me after I spoke to Jess. The only way a newborn child would be branded with a slave mark is if they were born into a house of slavery. It takes time and planning to kidnap a child, and even a child owed would need to be older than a couple of days."

"So the mother is..." I hesitated. "Or _was_ a slave. What happens to the slaves who are no longer indentured?"

"They attempt to adjust. Some make it. Some... don't."

"Can I speak to her?" I asked. "The woman in your story."

He shook his head. "She killed herself less than a year later."

"So it was all for nothing," I said in disgust.

"As you yourself said, it's possible the children would be used as slaves elsewhere, either way. She earned herself some freedom and found she couldn't enjoy the taste of it."

"I don't know how this helps me."

"Neither do I, but I thought I would share it anyway. I used to make lists that might be more useful."

I continued eating. "What kinds of lists?"

"Whenever slaves came to me for help, I would document where they came from, if we could figure it out. Out of all of the names and addresses, there may be one you're looking for. I have the books in safekeeping, but I could share them with you, if you're interested."

"Anything I can get, I'll take," I said. "Thank you."

"I'm glad to help, but..." He reached out and patted my hand. "Don't think too badly of people like the woman in my story. When a person grows up the captive of another, they have to learn from scratch upon their freedom. Sometimes, that insight comes too late. For some, it brings more regret than they could bear."

As we finished eating, Gerard gave me insight into how the government could more properly help people who had been exiled or held captive in one way or another. So many people were still in hiding, unable to trust even the new world we had created.

I walked home slowly that night, my mind full of information. Somebody had tried to get Noodle away from slavery—somebody I had been supposed to meet. Sometimes I worried that an unknown entity was pulling all of the strings, and none of us were thinking for ourselves.

Back at the cul-de-sac, Phoenix was waiting on my doorstep, at the front door for a change. He sat there, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and watched me approach.

"Don't bother apologising," I said, leaning over him to open the front door. I stepped aside to let him in.

"I wasn't going to."

I instantly regretted letting him in. "Why the hell did you come here then?"

He blinked and leaned against the wall in my hallway. "You just told me not to bother apologising."

I slammed the front door shut and stormed into the kitchen, throwing my jacket on a chair. He followed me, and it took everything not to pick up the kettle and throw it at him. "You're aggravating as hell. I hope you know that."

"I did come here to explain. And to ask you something, but mostly to explain." He sat at the table. "I did the right thing, taking the child to the home."

"Why, because the witches said so?" Blowing out an irritated breath, I started making coffee just to give my hands something to do that didn't involve punching fae princes right in the nose.

"No, because we can't have any distractions. Sit down, please."

I slammed the door of the press and sat at the table, just to see his face as he spoke. But my blood still hummed in my veins. "Right thing to do," I echoed. "So why do I feel like you betrayed me? _Twice_."

"You know me better than anyone," he said. I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to stop me. "It's true. I am more myself around you than others, and I thought that would help you understand why the child is no longer here."

"It doesn't," I said sharply.

"I can see that." He studied my face. "But you're not so angry that you're unable to listen to me." He cocked his head to the side. "No, you're hurt."

"Just get on with your story," I said. "I'm not interested in a diagnosis of my emotional state, thanks."

"My children were slaves," he said. "My wife ended up amongst slaves. But for the grace of some higher power, you may have ended up there yourself. And I know what it's like to wish for freedom. Leah, Val, Emmett, so many people in her life share the same experience—or narrowly avoided it."

"Then you understand why the people here would never let anything happen to the baby."

He laid a hand on his chest. "But _I've_ been there, too, just in a different set of circumstances. And the thought of slavery existing in my country, after everything we've worked for, sickens me."

"Join the club," I said sardonically.

He licked his lips, biding his time in a way that made me shift in my seat. "I haven't let it go, you know. My mother's actions. She was the one in charge of it all, and I am her blood. It's my responsibility to clean up after her crimes. _I_ have a responsibility to ensure nothing of her is left behind. I have to do whatever it takes to stop my mother's reign from being repeated. It's the only thing I really have, Ava. The only thing that can't be taken from me."

"What? Revenge?" I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms. "That's not a thing to have. It's a shield sometimes, maybe even a weapon, but it's not something you _have_. It has you. And if you keep letting it lead you around by the nose, then you'll never be happy. I want to stop this crap, too. You're right about one thing: half the people I know were either slaves or potential slaves. I mean, how ridiculous is that? I heard a story tonight about a woman earning her freedom by giving her owner a baby. If you think I wouldn't do whatever it takes to stop this shit, then you're off your head."

"I know you understand what's at stake," he said. "But this is something more for me. A sort of tradition I'm bonded to."

"You judged your mother," I said slowly, remembering her death. "That's what you said, right? You were her blood, and you got to judge her."

He looked relieved. "Exactly. I made a kind of oath. Almost like a deal with my ancestors, and it's what drives me. That and finding out what happened during the periods of time when my memories fail me. I must clear off all evidence of my mother's crimes from the earth, and if this new slaver is one of her cohorts, then I must find out what he knows about me and my mother. Don't you see? I'll never be whole until I find out what I lost." He stretched his arm across the table as though reaching for me. "I need you by my side while I do this, Ava, not caring for an infant. I need you to help me. I need... I just need you."

A lump formed in my throat. I had been so stupid to ask him to take Wes's memories. I cleared my throat. "What if the people we're looking for aren't anything to do with you or your mother?"

He deflated. "Then I'll have learned nothing. I'm used to that, Ava. Far too used to that."

"What if it's a paragon?" I asked. Those particular high powers had caused us trouble before.

"The thought had occurred to me," he admitted. "But it doesn't fit. Too many things are happening at once. I'm starting to consider your bad-luck theory as being a viable one." He paused. "I heard you questioned the fae about me."

"The fae." I snorted. "I asked one and a half fae about slavery, not you. And if they went running to tell you, then they're the biggest—"

"It was merely by chance that I heard," he said with a smile. "They were concerned for my safety, and your name popped into the conversation."

"I'm sure it did," I said wryly.

"Do you understand why the baby is better off elsewhere? And why I let your friend have a choice about his memories?"

"I understand... why you made those choices." I shook my head. "I don't have to like it, though. Do you get why I can't trust you now?"

"But you can trust me," he said. "I will never tell another soul everything, but that doesn't mean I would attempt to cause you harm."

"Peter never really intended to cause me harm, either," I said gruffly. "Yet somehow, his secrets and lies managed it all the same."

He studied my face. "I'm not Peter. I'm not as angry or reckless or foolish. I consider my actions carefully, Ava."

"Until you don't." I narrowed my gaze. "You both let vengeance get the better of you to the detriment of everyone else."

He held out his palm. "Do you wish to make a deal?"

My lips quirked upward. "You know I'm not allowed make deals."

"And yet you continue to do so." He smiled, and a flood of warmth ran through me.

_Sucker_.

"If I make a deal with you never to cause you harm by my actions, would that help?"

"No." I lightly slapped his palm with mine. "But thanks for the thought."

He leaned back in his seat, looking genuinely surprised. But I didn't want to tie anyone else to deals. It seemed like a cheat somehow.

"I suppose we've come to my question," he said after a moment. "I want you to go somewhere with me on Friday."

"Where?"

"A... charity event."

"What kind of event?"

He drummed his fingers against the table for a moment before answering. "I suppose it could be called a ball."

"No, thank you."

"You didn't even consider it."

"I don't do... balls. Or dresses. Or uncomfortable shoes."

"Wear what you like," he said. "But it might be beneficial for us to attend. Important people, both supernatural and human, will be there, including the press."

That caught my attention. "You want me to spy on people?"

"I want you to mingle," he said. "As will I. If there's anything we can pick up, then so be it. If not, then we did our bit to contribute to a charitable endeavour."

"I don't think I'm the best person for this," I said. "Callista would be perfect."

"She'll be there," he said. "All of the Senate will. And you'll be able to observe them, who they talk to, that sort of thing."

"You think one of them is involved in our mess?"

He shrugged. "I haven't ruled it out. By Sunday, the witches will likely have found out where the child came from. If, in the meantime, we can pick up any other information, then I look forward to it."

"What if the witches fail?"

He reached across the table for my hand. _"Then_ , I will apologise. And we'll figure out an alternative."

I observed him with suspicion, holding my hands out of his reach. He was being entirely too nice for my liking. "I don't have to wear a dress," I said. "Or heels."

He grinned. "Not wearing a dress will make you stand out more."

I made a face. "There had better be food."

"There'll be lots of food. But also lots of cameras."

"Even Carl would be better at this than me."

He was definitely laughing at me. "Would it help if I said you might have fun? It might be useful for you to network with people who aren't victims for a change."

The glint in his eye dared me to say yes.

"Fine," I said at last. "But I'm definitely not wearing a dress."

# 10

On Friday, Breslin woke me early with a phone call about the shooter. "Alex thinks he's found her," he told me. "The police hadn't even managed to get a real name out of her, but Alex believes he's discovered the truth."

"How on earth did she manage to get out on bail?"

"From the documentation Shay sent me over, her case—and identity—was mixed with another's. Out of curiosity, I've asked him to send over that person's details, too."

"Think they know something?"

"It's possible," he said. "If this other person was due to be released, surely she would have put up a fuss when the time came and she was still stuck inside. The only reason the snafu with the shooter came to light is because Shay turned up to interview her himself."

"I'm on my way," I said. "If none of this is connected, at least we'll have crossed a few points of interest off the list."

"There's a list?"

"Sort of." I smiled. "So what do you really think of Alex?"

I could sense his amusement over the phone. "I think he's trying very hard to be irreplaceable. I respect his enthusiasm. Given his past, it's admirable how he's picked himself back up. He's certainly been useful to me."

"Tell him to look out for mentions of tithes in the books he's researching," I said. "In relation to slavery, I mean. I heard a few stories that make me curious."

"I'll pass it on. Will you be here this morning?"

"Yeah. I need to go clothes shopping later. I'm going to a charity event to spy on people."

"Well," he said. "You certainly lead an interesting life."

"Go me." I sighed. "Give me an hour or two."

I quickly dressed and decided a visit to Carl was overdue. He answered the door after I persisted in knocking for about ten minutes.

"Jesus Christ, what do you want?" he said, running his hands through his hair.

"You look like crap. Haven't you heard of a shower?" I brushed past him. "Get ready. We're going on a field trip today."

"Like hell I am."

I turned to look at him. "I have shit to do, and you're going to do it with me because we don't have time to sit around here, feeling sorry for ourselves while we talk things out. Go get ready. I'll make coffee."

Grumbling, he trotted off to clean himself up. By the time I had made some coffee and a sausage sandwich, he was looking ten times better. But he was still grumpy.

"I don't get what you need me for."

"Moral support," I said.

"You just want to keep an eye on me."

"No, I just miss you."

He rolled his eyes.

I pulled the crust off my bread and threw it at him. It landed in his coffee cup with a satisfying plop.

"Oh, very mature," he said.

"Will you just talk to me? Look, I'm sorry I've been preoccupied, but there's been a lot going on around here."

"You weren't preoccupied when Esther needed you."

I exhaled heavily. "Carl, what was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" He shoved his cup away. "But it really seems like you two made plans for me without even asking. Oh, it's grand. Carl will be okay. Maybe I'm not okay!"

"I can see you're not okay. Now tell me why."

"I thought I'd found my place in the world, Ava." He stretched his hands out on the table, looking as though he couldn't sit still in his own skin. "I was starting to feel like I had a life of my own. I had a job, and Esther made me think... she made me think I was over Maria for good. She leaves, letting me think we're going to try to be together when she returns. Then she comes back with a freaking soul mate or some shit, and she doesn't even bother telling me about it. And there you are, all matter-of-fact about my feelings, how I should be happy that Esther's okay. Well, I'm not fucking happy, Ava."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Carl."

"I loved that job," he said bitterly. "And now I've lost it, lost any sense of hope that things were actually getting better, and then a slave baby shows up. Of all things." He frowned. "Where's the baby?"

"Phoenix and some witch took her away," I said. "They reckon she's safer with them." I shrugged. "The baby might have magic, so the coven think she's their responsibility. And they're trying some spell to see if they can figure out where she came from."

"Oh. That's shit. But it still doesn't excuse you at the bar. Acting like you own me. I'm not yours, Ava. You can't keep getting possessive all of the time."

"You realise what it looked like," I said. "I felt like I was back in the past... I've been feeling that a lot lately."

"Because of Wes?"

"Wes, slaves, even you. I feel like I'm totally out of control, like there's no safety net anymore."

"Me, too." He leaned forward to rest his chin in his palm. "Stop making me feel sorry for you."

"I'm sorry for acting the way I have been." I took his free hand in mine. "You know you're my best friend. I just thought if I explained how it was for Esther that you'd understand. This mate thing is crazy. It's like love at first sight or something. She'll always be a shifter. She needed to come to terms with what that means, and Patrick helped her do it. I'm sorry if you feel I took her side or wasn't there for you. That wasn't my intention. Ever. And I'm especially sorry I made a holy show of you in the bar in front of your succubus friend."

"That last bit might come across better if you didn't sound so sarcastic."

"Oh, come on. Cut me a little slack. I've been stressed, too."

"Fine." He waved a hand and sat back in his chair. "What have I missed?"

I caught him up on everything, including the ball, which made him laugh hysterically for five minutes. "Okay," he said at last. "I'll keep you company today. If only to make jokes at your expense when you try on dresses."

I let him have that because I was glad he was no longer mad at me. I was used to Carl's mood swings, but the highs and lows had grown so dangerously disparate that I feared he would up and leave someday.

When we stood to leave, I drew him in for a bear hug. "I missed you, you big oaf."

"Let's not get soppy." But he kissed the top of my head, and I knew I was forgiven.

He drove us to the offices to see Breslin. Alex was waiting, hopping from one foot to the other in his apparent excitement.

"I found her!" He held out the door for us and followed us to Breslin's office. "I took the mugshot and did a reverse image search until I found some profiles online that could have matched. I have, like, three possibilities, but I'm leaning towards one of them. You can see what you think. Or we could—"

"That'll be fine," I said, exchanging an amused glance with Carl.

Breslin's office was absolutely covered in books and papers. I stepped gingerly around piles, unable to find a seat.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, turning a laptop around for me to see. "Alex has three profiles here for you to look at."

I took a quick look before choosing the final one. "This is her. Jennifer Boyle. That guy in the background was with her little gang. Can we print this out, too?"

"On it," Alex said, quickly retrieving the laptop and leaving the room.

Breslin breathed a sigh of relief. "He'll only be a few moments. That sealed box in the corner is for you, if you wish to take it. Some information you might find interesting, if not pertinent to your questions."

"Thanks."

Alex returned in record time with photos and directions. "I don't know her exact address, but you could knock around doors and ask. Or I could—"

"We'll handle it," Carl said, taking the information from Alex, who looked mildly disappointed.

I grabbed the box, and we returned to the car with what we needed.

"This is going to be awkward," Carl said. "Knocking on doors and asking if anybody has seen this girl."

"You're charming. It'll be fine. Besides, we can just ask where her family lives."

"What if her family is involved?" he said as he pulled away from the offices. "Might get dangerous. Shouldn't you be giving this information to Shay?"

"I will. _After_." I folded my arms across my chest. "This bitch tried to shoot me."

He snorted before stopping for coffee at a nearby garage. Back on the road again, we tried to make sense of the things I had learned along the way. When said out loud, it really wasn't much.

The shooter lived in an affluent part of Dublin. "Smells like money," Carl joked.

"This could all be a couple of rich kids playing games," I said. "But I doubt it." I dug into the box that Breslin had given me. The books included a few diaries I'd kept out of Carl's sight, a ledger book, and a couple of random items that I wasn't sure would be of any use. I flipped through the ledger then paused and skimmed the page I was on.

It was a list of items, trades or deals of some sort, all written in tiny, faded writing. And amongst the names, right after each other, were Phoenix and Helena. After Phoenix's name was a design of some sort, kind of like a family crest, and after Helena, a word had been written and scribbled out until it was no longer legible. And across the page, after Phoenix, it said "to be confirmed." After Helena, it said "traded."

I slammed the book shut. What the hell did that mean? What dealings did Phoenix and Helena have with Mrs. Yaga?

"What's up?" Carl asked.

"Nothing," I lied. "Just tired of squinting at bad handwriting."

I moved on to another book. It was even harder to read, but there were no familiar names within. The newest book was more of a diary. Mrs. Yaga had gotten slack in her old age. I came across an entry that said: "Found the tainted nephal. It will work." I immediately assumed she meant me, but then I caught the date—half a century before I was born. This was getting weirder.

"You sure you're okay?" Carl asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just weird. I found an entry in Mrs. Yaga's diary about a tainted nephal."

"She recorded meeting you?"

"No, it was before I was born. So it's somebody else."

He glanced at me. "I thought you were supposed to be rare."

"Yeah, me, too. I wonder what happened to this one?"

"They lived happily ever after."

I looked at him askance.

"I'm serious," he said. "Let's just assume they had a great life somewhere." He frowned. "Think they're still alive?"

"I've no idea. They must be old. Maybe we do that—live long lives, I mean. When we're not hunted down and killed."

"Oh." He shot me a worried look. "You're going to outlive me."

"Why would you even say something like that?"

"I wouldn't like to outlive you," he said. "That would be boring."

"Seriously, stop talking."

"We're here now anyway." He pulled off the road sharply, giving me a minor heart attack. "Give me a photo."

When I wasn't fast enough to separate the photo from the rest of the pages in my hands, he whipped it away himself. Maybe I wasn't completely forgiven then.

"Right," he said, taking one last look at the shooter's photo. "I'll start on the other side of the road while you take this one. We'll meet up at the end."

He was out of the car before I could reluctantly agree. I wasn't looking forward to knocking on doors and asking questions. The first couple of houses were empty—realising nobody was going to answer was a strangely delicious relief—and the next was occupied by a suspicious old woman who didn't like my hair and wasn't afraid to repeatedly tell me so.

I was starting to think I should have stayed in bed when Carl whistled to catch my attention. I said goodbye to the old woman, who muttered under her breath, then I ran across the road to where Carl was waiting outside a house.

"Got an address," he said. "Nice lady knew exactly who I was looking for. The Boyles are not a popular family, apparently. Bad attitude. Definitely human though."

"She told you all that?" I looked at the house in surprise. "I could barely get anyone to answer the door."

"I have the magic touch," he said. "Come on. It's around the corner."

We found the right house. A middle-aged man answered the door and refused to let us in when we mentioned his daughter.

"She ran away," he said. "I've no idea where she is."

"Mr. Boyle, you do know she was arrested, right?" I said. "For shooting someone."

"Ridiculous," he said, but he looked a little frightened. "Jenny could never... where would she even get a gun?"

"That's what we'd like to know, sir," Carl said. "Did you pay the bail money?"

The man folded his arms, looking haughty. "I did not pay for anything. She's caused me enough trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Carl asked.

"Never you mind." Mr. Boyle shook his head. "It's nothing. She's not..."

He made to close the door, but I blocked his way.

"She's disappeared," I said. "There's going to be a very public investigation into this. The newspapers will find out and ream your family because of it."

"I don't know where she is," he insisted. "I haven't given her any money."

"Do you have access to any of her bank accounts or savings?" Carl asked.

"I can get it," the man said, looking relieved to be helpful. "I can freeze them. They're all connected to my account."

"That would be a good idea." I pushed a photo in front of him. "Do you recognise this young man?"

He made a face. "That's her boyfriend. What's his name? Something Foley, I think. An annoying little prick if ever I met one." He nodded. "You know what? I bet he got the gun." He lowered his voice. "He's not even human."

"Yeah?" I said. "Neither am I."

He stuttered an apology before handing over every scrap of information he could remember about Jennifer's boyfriend. "His family are tough," he warned. "I'd be careful if I were you."

I bared my fangs. "I'm always careful."

He had slammed the door before I finished the sentence.

"You have to stop intimidating people," Carl said. "He could have had more information."

"Stop trying to spoil all my fun." I checked my watch. "Shit, the time it is. I have to head into town to pick something up to wear. Will you _please_ come with me?"

"Yes, I'll come with you." He led the way back to the car. "What about the boyfriend? Think he's hiding the shooter?"

"Maybe. He didn't expect the bit about the gun, but he sounded kind of resigned to the fact she might be in trouble. Maybe he's right, and this Foley family are in charge. Should we take a quick look before passing this on to Shay?"

"Might as well follow through," he said. "And if they're as tough as Mr. Boyle reckons, I'll even let you off your leash." He grinned at my pained expression. "Come on then."

We drove across town to the boyfriend's home. His neighbourhood wasn't half as posh as Jennifer's. The Foley family lived over a corner shop that had been closed down. We knocked at the door, and a woman answered it, flour all over her hands. She recognised me and took a step back.

"Foley, right?" Carl said.

The woman nodded, her eyes darting from Carl back to me.

"Where is he?" I asked. "Is the girl here, too?"

"What girl?" she said, recovering. "I'm confused. Are you looking for my son or my husband?"

"Your son's girlfriend is a wanted criminal," Carl said. "Is Jennifer Boyle hiding here?"

"Absolutely not." The woman stiffened. "We keep to ourselves, keep our noses clean. Austin causes no trouble."

"Austin's your son?" Carl said.

She nodded. "He's a good boy. _No trouble_."

"Then why was your son involved with a gun-wielding gang who were running a protection racket across town?" I asked.

She swallowed hard then called her husband, who seemed just as shocked as she was. I couldn't tell what kind of supernatural creature they were, but it hadn't brought them any prosperity. And they certainly weren't "rough."

"The police will be back to ask you more questions," I said more kindly as it became apparent that both parents were scared out of their wits. "Be prepared for that. Jennifer is the one we're looking for specifically right now, but Austin is a witness. He'll have information we need, too."

"What will they do to him?" the father asked.

"Ask him questions," I said. "What happens next depends on his answers. If you see him, I'd advise him to cooperate."

We left them there, clinging to each other, and I felt sorry for them both.

"You're strict," Carl whispered as we walked away.

"Not even gonna smile, never mind laugh. I still have to buy something to wear. This is the worst day ever."

"So is this event thing a date or what?" Carl asked.

"I think it's a job," I said. "Phoenix wants me to mingle, see if there's anything I can find out."

"But you're his date to this thing, right?"

"No, I'm..." I had no idea what I was in relation to Phoenix, charity events or otherwise. "A friend?"

"You don't sound convinced." He guided me to the car then patted my head as though contemplating something.

Frowning, I waited for him to unlock the car. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Phoenix is pretty tall. How do you even—"

"Do not finish that sentence if you value your life," I said as fiercely as I could manage in public without drawing attention to us.

He grinned, but he piped down until we got into the car. "Who's going to be at this thing anyway?"

"All of the Senate, reporters, I don't know, important people?"

"And little old Delaney is going to be joining them." He rubbed his hands together before starting the car. "That settles it."

"Settles what?"

"We're going to make them all notice you."

I tutted and looked out the window. "I think you've forgotten that I don't actually want to be noticed."

"I know you like Phoenix. You're going _shopping_ for him." He started the car. "He's seen you all grubby and normal. Now we need him to see you when you're done up like a little cracker."

I gave him an are-you-serious look.

"Hey," he said. "I've only seen you look grubby, too, so I don't even know if it's possible that you scrub up well, but we might as well try."

I thumped his arm as hard as I dared, but he was too busy laughing to notice.

"Does this mean we're best friends again?" I demanded. "Because otherwise, there will be payback for this conversation."

He grinned. "You know you're my favourite person."

The mischievous glint in his eye said I still had some punishment to undergo.

# 11

On Saturday morning, I called Shay to fill him in on everything.

"Does this mean I'm no longer in the bad books?" he asked.

I was about to laugh, but he actually sounded serious. "If the witches pull off their spell, then I'll be glad for the help," I said. "But I still feel screwed over. You could have at least warned me."

"Would that have made it easier or harder?" he asked.

"I don't know, but I'm not a big fan of surprises."

"Speaking of surprises." He cleared his throat, and his tone grew wary. "I've heard a rumour that I'll be seeing you later."

"Oh," I said. "At the charity thing? Don't worry. I'm just there undercover. I won't get in the way."

He chuckled. "Undercover? If you're Phoenix's date, I'm pretty sure you'll be the main topic of conversation."

"Shut up," I said, ignoring the unspoken question. "Have you talked to Moses yet?"

"No, should I?"

"Probably. He's been doing some undercover work of his own. Oh, and thanks for the stuff you sent over to Breslin."

"Just don't spread the word," he said. "I break rules these days. It's not something I want getting out."

"Any updates on the emergency number failure?"

"Soon," he said. "I'm getting close."

* * *

That afternoon, Carl and Anka dragged me over to her place to get ready. Carl distracted me while Anka curled my hair and did my makeup. Afterward, I admired myself in the mirror. "Wow," I said. "You almost made me look like a girl."

Dita giggled in the corner, while Anka said some very bad words in Polish. "You are a woman," she added in English. "Stop making fun of yourself."

I made a duck-lips face at Dita, who laughed all over again.

Carl had helped me pick out a dressy trouser suit that likely wouldn't draw too much attention. Due to his encouragement, I had caved on the shoes and fallen for a pair of heels that I would never be able to walk in. As I stumbled around Anka's kitchen, I brushed off her concerns. "I'll just sidestep around the walls. It's no big deal. It's not like I'll need to move very fast."

She muttered under her breath. I caught Carl staring at me.

"What?"

"My little girl's growing up," he said with a faux sniff.

"Shut _up_." I glanced out the window and saw Emmet playing on his own. "Come on, you," I said to Dita.

"Where are we going?"

"Outside to make friends again."

She moaned but let me drag her outside to Emmett. I started by dragging then eventually needed to lean on her for support. Emmett stood there, looking embarrassed, as I shoved her toward him.

"You're best friends," I said. "Stop being stubborn, and make things up."

Dita folded her arms, while Emmett scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground.

"Emmett," I said warningly, "you know what to do."

"I'm sorry," he said at last. "I didn't think you were going to get hurt, or I would never have—"

"You think I'm mad because I got hurt?" She put her hands on her hips, and he immediately looked as though he wanted to be anywhere else. "I'm mad because you're a bully, Emmett Brannigan. Nick's my friend, and you made everything awful, and now you're going to say sorry for the one thing that happened by accident? Are you kidding me?"

He mumbled something under his breath.

"I can't hear you," she said, sounding a lot like her mother all of a sudden.

"I said I'm sorry I was mean to Nick. I won't do it again. If he comes back... I'll be nice— _nicer_ —to him."

"Well, good," she huffed.

A limo pulled into the cul-de-sac, and Dita forgot all about her anger. "Emmett, look at the car! Come on!"

She ran over, but Emmett lingered, a sullen look on his face.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Why do you like _him_ better than my dad? He's so weird and creepy. I don't like him. Why would you?"

I wobbled over to him. "I don't like him better than your dad. But I'm allowed to have more than one friend. And plenty of people think I'm weird, so how can I judge somebody else for the same thing?"

He shrugged.

Peter came to the gate. "You look really nice," he said, his jaw clenched and twitchy. "I hope you have fun."

That was for Emmett's benefit, but I was still impressed. "Thank you," I said, meaning it.

He smiled a sad, resigned smile that didn't wipe the harshness from his expression, then Carl had my hand and was helping me to the limo.

Phoenix had gotten out of the backseat to greet me. He smiled at my appearance. "No dress, but those are certainly heels."

"I went shopping with someone who wanted to punish me, and I bowed to peer pressure," I said. "Let's get this over with then."

He held out the car door—obviously having taken lessons in unnecessary chivalry from Shay at some stage—then got in beside me. I waved at the others as the car drove out of the cul-de-sac.

"Overdoing it a tad?" I remarked when Phoenix offered me a glass of champagne.

"This car will be a junker compared to the others," he said, relaxing in his seat.

An uncomfortable feeling wormed its way up my chest. "Phoenix, exactly how much were the tickets to this thing? I mean, what do I owe you?"

He waved a hand. "I bought them months ago. I can't even remember now. Besides, I invited you. You don't owe me a thing."

"Who were you going to bring with you?"

"What?"

"You said you bought the tickets months ago. You asked me to go a couple of days ago. Who had you planned on taking with you?"

"Lucia." He shrugged, his mouth downturned. "I didn't expect her to leave again."

"No sign of Lorcan coming home then?"

"Not yet," he said. "Although Elathan is making plans to return, I believe."

I already wanted to kick off the shoes. "So what exactly do you want me to do tonight then?"

"Enjoy yourself."

"I mean really."

"Mingle. Listen to conversations. Observe. It'll be good for you to see how certain people tick in this kind of situation." He reached out and touched my knee. "Sit with me at dinner." He squeezed. "And know that the child is safe and the witches are almost done with their spell."

I thought about how fearful Emmett had looked when Phoenix arrived. It made the guilt twist inside me. Between that and the reminder of Phoenix taking away Noodle, I inched away, just out of his reach. I felt him looking at me, but I gazed out the window as the car made the relatively short journey across the Liffey to a hotel so posh that it took a concentrated effort on my behalf just to walk by the place on an average day.

We ended up in a queue outside. I hadn't expected many people. Between protesters, reporters, and curious passersby, the pathway was packed out.

"What's going on?" I blinked as lights flashed around the car. "Why are there cameras?"

"I told you the media would be represented."

"I thought you meant inside as guests!"

"That, too." He still looked completely relaxed.

I peered out the window. "There are so many of them. And the protesters look like they've brought everyone they've ever met. Don't you think somebody should deal with Humans First _before_ they get into politics?"

"They're harmless," he said.

"What's this event for anyway?"

"The opening of a new clinic, I think. I forgot to check. Some businessman agreed to double the funds raised tonight."

"You don't sound very interested."

He shrugged. "It'll end up privatised, and he's bound to have a stake in it. Not exactly charitable. The old clinic will be completely public. They need the funds more."

"Then why go to this thing?"

"There's more than one reason to attend something like this," he said cryptically.

The driver opened the door, and Phoenix got out. He helped me out and held out his arm for me to hold on.

"I couldn't let you fall on the red carpet," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"The _what_ carpet?" And there it was, complete with Z-list wannabe celebrities. "I'm going to kill you," I whispered as menacingly as I could manage. "I'm going to rip out your heart and feed it to the werewolves."

He patted my hand on his arm. "You mean you're not going to smile for the cameras, Ava?"

"Oh, you're a dead man," I said with my best smile.

We strolled up to the doors, as I tried my best not to trip over my own heels.

"You are the worst person of all time," I said when the cameras were behind us. "And I'm never, _ever_ going to... oh, wow."

Inside the hotel was stunning. Staff lined the foyer, wearing freshly pressed uniforms and serving alcoholic drinks. Bouquets of fresh blossoming flowers were everywhere. The floor was marble, and the largest chandelier I'd ever seen hung below a beautiful ceiling mural of seraphim watching over a nursing mother. I wondered what my mother had looked like before she was sent to earth to play at being human.

"Does this mean you like it?" Phoenix asked, sounding amused.

"It's... something else." I looked up and noticed he was staring at me intently. "What?"

"I find it refreshing to see the world through your eyes." He nodded ahead of us. "This is just the beginning."

He led me through the massive doors and into the event room before I could protest. My sensory system immediately went into overload. Candles hung from the walls, and the flames reflected against dozens upon dozens of crystal vases in various sizes lined up beneath them. Glasses chinked together almost constantly, a violin quartet played at the other end of the room, and the swishing of hundreds of dresses brushing against each other drowned out my increasing heart rate.

"I should probably stake out the kitchen," I said, completely overwhelmed.

"Or I could introduce you to people," Phoenix said, refusing to stop and give me a chance to panic completely.

As we drifted from group to group, I stopped trying to remember people's names. It was all too glamorous for me. I finally managed to escape and find a waiter serving portions of food so small, it was an insult to call them bite-sized. I had discovered I could walk without falling if I took short, quick strides that probably made me look as though I were walking on tightrope, but I didn't care. I stole half the waiter's tray onto a napkin and hobbled over to a pillar to lean on.

I recognised very few faces. I had spotted Shay, looking very dapper in a tuxedo, but he was surrounded by admirers, and I didn't have the heart to get in the middle of that. Most of the Senate were around, charming the room, or at least trying to. I wondered what the ratio of human to supernatural was, but the results of any attempts I made to reach out with my other senses were too overwhelming to be of any use.

I spotted Phoenix in the crowd at the other side of the room. Being so tall, he stood out. His black-and-platinum hair gleamed in the light. It was slicked back into a bun, revealing the angular lines of his face. He looked tired. I hadn't noticed before. Callista was by his side, her hand on his arm as she relayed a story to the group of people around them. I couldn't help watching them. Callista was a siren and possessed that natural magnetism she wasn't scared to overuse. Most of the room was looking at her. She was so tall, blond, curvy, and charismatic—even I had to admit she and Phoenix looked good together.

"It drives her crazy," a woman said.

I looked and saw Layla, Senate representative of the succubi, standing next to me. "What?"

She stole a morsel from my napkin. "Trying to figure him out. I can tell it's slowly driving her insane."

"Okay?"

"We don't like each other." She popped the food into her mouth then spoke around it. "The attention-seeking gets tiring."

"You literally feed on the attention of men," I said.

"Exactly." She stole a teeny meatball. I fought the urge to slap her hand away. "For me, it's feed or die. She just enjoys it. And as you know we don't have a choice, you would think you could cut my people a little slack every now and then."

I rolled my eyes. "If this is about Carl, then don't bother. I've earned the right to be suspicious."

"While it's true that one of ours harmed you, that won't happen again. We're in a good position. We would never do anything to jeopardise that, and I'd prefer it if you wouldn't take your prejudices out on innocent succubi. You don't have the right to judge us as a group, and I don't appreciate the constant attitude."

I looked at her. "I'll do anything to protect my friends, whether they like it or not. I admit I have... an opinion on your kind, but as long as you keep to your brothels, I won't cause you any trouble."

"Not every man who comes to us is looking for sex. Too many of them are lonely, just wishing somebody out there will listen to them. Don't you think _that's_ a valuable service?" She grimaced. "Of course not. You think you're better than us."

"I just care about protecting my friend." I glanced over the crowd. "It's not that I think I'm better. But we all know what happens when people take what they believe they're owed. If I have to make a few enemies to preempt a problem, then so be it."

"So you consider us enemies?"

I managed a smile. "Trust me when I say I can probably trust my enemies more than my friends sometimes. At least your crowd doesn't hide the fact they can't stand me."

To my surprise, she smiled back. "Then trust _me_ when I say I know exactly what you mean."

Somebody beckoned her, and I was left alone again. Bored, I wandered around the room, half-listening to conversations. They were all dull, or rather, no deadly secrets were revealed.

"Ava!" Willow approached me and took my hands, knocking the rest of my food to the floor. She ignored it, a beaming smile on her face. She might have been a little drunk. "I never thought I would persuade you to come to one of these things."

"Oh, well, I—"

"I have a schedule," she said brightly. "I'll send you a copy. We can share a car next time. I believe it's next weekend. James will know." She waved energetically. "Oh, James! James!"

While she was distracted, I made my escape. I didn't get far before tripping and bumping into a young woman, who dropped her bag. Some of the contents spilled out, revealing a disturbing amount of items that could have been used as weapons. She scurried to pick them up, knocking my hands away when I tried to help her. Somebody with that much holy water, stakes, pepper spray, and who knew what else had to be scared of something.

"Are you all right?" I asked her. "Do you need help?"

She looked up at me, her chest rapidly rising and falling. "What?"

I recognised her from the newspaper articles.

"You're a reporter," I said under my breath. "Áine O'Neill, right?"

She froze, her lips shaking as she muttered something incomprehensible. The bell for dinner rang, catching my attention, and the reporter made her escape into the crowd. I got to my feet, grumbling under my breath, and Phoenix came out of nowhere.

"Why were you on the floor?" he asked.

"I needed a rest," I said, nodding at Callista. "Dinner, I suppose."

"You look so nice," Callista said in a friendly manner. I avoided her gaze so I wouldn't get sucked into her vortex of charm. I often wondered if Shay had a great-great-great-grandmother who was also a siren.

"Go on ahead," Phoenix told Callista. "We'll follow you."

Looking a bit miffed, she left us, and he took my arm. "Some women bring flats with them," he said. "To save their feet during the night."

"Now he tells me."

"Anything interesting going on?" he asked under his breath as we walked.

"Nope," I said. "It's as dull as I expected. People are talking about the best side of themselves rather than their secrets."

"At least the dinner should be decent," he said, sounding amused.

"I hope it's better than those teeny-tiny morsels of God knows what they were handing out earlier," I complained.

"For someone so small, you are highly concerned with food."

"Number one: you're the one who's tall. I'm perfectly sized, thank you. And two: food keeps the, er, blood cravings at bay."

"Are they bad?" he asked, sounding more interested than grossed out.

"Not anymore," I said. "Mostly depends on my head space."

"And do you ever... crave mine?"

I shot him an askance glance. "No. And please stop asking questions now."

He grinned and led me to our table. Most people hadn't taken their seats yet. Phoenix sat me to his left then handed me a glass of wine.

I declined. "Wasted on me."

"This is fae wine," he said. "I had them open it for our table."

"Fae wine makes me sleepy in an I-have-to-fall-on-my-face-right-now kind of way," I explained.

"Does it really?" He put down the glass. "How intriguing."

Callista sat to his right. "What's intriguing?"

"A woman's tolerance of pain for the right pair of shoes," he said without hesitation.

Shay took the empty chair to my left. "Where have you been hiding then?"

"Around. Where did your admirers go?" I teased.

"Hopefully, to the other side of the planet." He grinned. "Didn't think you'd make it this long."

"And miss the food? Pfft."

James, the human representative on the Senate, led a vaguely familiar man to the table. "Declan wanted to say hello," he explained.

I recognised the comb-over from the news.

"Oh," Phoenix said coolly. "Hello then."

Declan leaned over the table to shake Phoenix's hand. His comb-over moved with him. My fingers itched to fix it.

"It's been a great night," he said. "I wanted to thank you for your donations, forces me to up mine." His bleached, toothy smile was dazzling. "All in the name of a good cause."

"There are so many good causes," Phoenix demurred.

Declan looked at me and nodded. "That there are." He held out his hand to me. "And you must be the infamous Ava Delaney. How nice to finally meet you."

I shook his hand reluctantly. His palm felt clammy.

He looked far too amused. "Have a great evening, all."

He and James left to sit at their own table.

"Do you think he looks in the mirror and imagines that people can't see his hair?" I whispered to Shay, who nudged me.

"Don't be mean," he said.

Phoenix draped his arm over the back of my chair to get closer to Shay. They spoke about something dull while I surveyed the room, seeking out the timid reporter again. She was sitting at a table by the kitchen doors, her cardigan wrapped over her shoulders. I wondered if the paper had bought her ticket.

She and I were the odd ones out in a room full of people willing to put on a mask. Miss O'Neill didn't disguise how miserable she felt. I found her more intriguing than anyone else. What was with the weapons? Had she been attacked? Was that why her articles had become so vitriolic?

As I mused on her circumstances, noises outside the room caught my attention. Shay stood as his phone beeped, but the kitchen doors burst open, and a crowd of protesters tumbled into the room, tackled by Integration Agents, Gardaí, kitchen staff, and hotel security. They shouted words like _boycott_ and _peaceful protest_ , but there was nothing peaceful about the way they pushed and elbowed their way into the room.

"What the hell is going on?" Shay said.

In the mayhem, another disturbance attracted my attention. Over at Áine's table, a man had jumped to his feet and smashed a bottle of wine. He grabbed a young woman who looked like a glamour model out of her seat. She screamed as the broken glass bottle went to her throat, and that corner of the room appeared to freeze.

The man ripped her dress, revealing fang marks on her bare neck. "The only ones sicker than the monsters in God's eyes are the deviants who allow themselves to be defiled!" He held up the bottle as though in prayer, pulling the girl after him by the hair. One or two Integration Agents stalked him, waiting for their chance to move in, but they also had to deal with the overwhelming number of protesters who had barged in and caused their own ruckus. "The only salvation is to cleanse the dirty from the earth!"

# 12

The room descended into mayhem. Almost everyone who realised what was happening stood at once, and the sound of screeching or falling chairs joined the panicked screams and shouting.

In the wave of movement, the IAs were pushed farther back from the man with the hostage.

"Try to get behind him," Shay murmured. "I'll confront him while the others get that mob out of here." He gestured to a couple of his people then moved on.

I nodded at Phoenix and slipped off my shoes. We separated. I crept around tables to the left of the protester, ducking behind the crowd trying to leave.

Cameras flashed around the room. Half the room seemed too confused to understand what was happening, while others were desperate to leave. Nobody appeared to want to help the girl caught up in the violence. I spotted Phoenix across the room, reaching into his pocket as though for a weapon.

With a rush of clarity, I realised how bad that would be. The cameras were watching our reaction, and if we harmed a human, we would only fuel the hate. There was only one solution: disarming the glass-wielding idiot without harming him or the woman. Easier said than done.

I signalled at Phoenix to wait. He frowned, but his hand dropped. We both continued to force our way through. Phoenix's path wasn't as clear as mine because the scuffles were drawn in his direction.

As though sensing our approach, the lone attacker backed away slowly, finding his way toward the kitchen doors as the Humans First group interfered with security, giving him a clear path. On bare feet, I hurried across the cold, sticky floor. Ducking, I managed to run across the room unnoticed until I came up behind the attacker and his hostage, narrowly avoiding being drawn into the scuffles.

Spotting a shocked-looking Áine O'Neill still seated at the closest table, I picked up her bag, which was heavier than I'd expected, then swung it at the back of the man's head while he had his bottle safely in the air away from anyone's neck. He went down like lead, falling face-first onto the floor.

The woman screamed and ran, and I looked over my shoulder at the reporter. "Seriously, what the hell is in that thing?"

Her eyes widened. "Look out!"

At that second, I was rugby-tackled by a group of protesters who had broken free from security. We all piled into the nearest table, upending the contents so that most of them landed on us. Something wet and sticky slid down my jacket as I squirmed out of the reach of grasping hands. The people sitting at the table were long gone, and a serenade of camera flashes almost blinded me. I managed to crawl away as Shay's team helped sort out the brawlers.

Phoenix helped me to my feet. "Nice work." His lips twitched.

"Not a word," I said, shrugging off my jacket. "That's never coming out, is it?"

I looked around and grabbed a cloth from a passing waiter to help wipe filth off my trousers.

A large man came at me—my presence apparently drove the supernatural haters wild. I sidestepped out of the way as the cameras flashed again. Phoenix dealt with him, shoving him toward a pair of red-faced, extremely pissed-off IAs. Shay and Mick were busy shepherding innocent guests away from the mayhem. James was comforting the weeping model, while Callista spoke loudly, trying to calm the rest of the guests.

The following hour was spent dealing with the madness while I mostly stayed out of the way in case my presence caused more drama. Many of the guests managed to leave while the protesters were being arrested. The more vocal ones swore blind that they had nothing to do with the still-unconscious attacker, but it was a funny coincidence that they had showed up as a distraction right before he attacked.

The female hostage appeared to be completely unharmed, and the worst injuries elsewhere were a couple of bruises. The reporter escaped before I could ask her more questions. The management seemed horrified by my appearance and offered to pay for my dry-cleaning, but I asked for dessert instead.

* * *

The place was almost empty. The last of the protesters were being transported to a cell for the night for public disturbance or something equally benign. Shay didn't seem too concerned, figuring that the protesters had just been riled up past their limits and gone into foolish mode. I wasn't sure if the girl who had a glass bottle held to her throat would be as blithe about the whole thing, but then I spotted her posing for the cameras. It was all part of the entertainment in the end.

The drama was unfolding in the foyer and outside, so I went back to my dinner table for some peace. The clean-up crew were the only ones in the room. With a heavy sigh, I sat on a chair, stretched out my legs on a second seat to rest my aching feet, and settled down with my dessert. I had lost my shoes, and my jacket had been murdered by an indistinguishable creamy sauce, but at least I had ice cream to console me.

Phoenix came over, lifted my feet, and sat down under my legs. He watched me eat, his gaze drifting to my mouth and back.

"Would you like some?" I asked pointedly.

He shook his head and smiled, looking away. "Shay's almost done. It's been an interesting evening, no? And you thought you would be bored."

"Remind me not to say stupid things like that again," I said, wincing. "The woman seemed to recover quickly enough."

He shrugged. "She'll tell herself it was nothing so that it's not so scary to deal with."

I held up my bowl. "She should have had the ice cream instead. So what happens to the protesters now?"

"They'll get warnings, most likely," he said. "It would be bad publicity if they all ended up in prison. There are mothers and fathers amongst the group."

"You'd think they'd have better sense then."

"Witnesses outside claim that a couple of people in the crowd riled up the rest," he said.

"I heard one of the IAs say the fool with the bottle had a ticket," I said. "Is he okay? He went down pretty heavy. Stayed down for a while."

"Concussion. He'll spend the night in the clinic. You hit him with a handbag, Ava."

"It was a heavy handbag."

His lips twitched. "My point is that you could have dealt with him... more harshly."

"In front of the cameras?" I said with a snort. "Giving those protesters exactly the reaction they want to prove? No, thanks. There's no going back from that, and I don't want to turn more people onto the side of fanatics."

"Interesting," he said. "I wouldn't have expected you to take that stance."

"Because I'm tainted?" I said sharply.

"Because the alternative is easier. Are you all right?" There went that twitch again. "They hit you pretty hard."

"Don't laugh. I'm fine. The management have offered me pretty much everything as an apology. Hence the ice cream."

He did laugh then. "You saved the day, and all you got was an ice cream."

"I'm happy." I yawned. "And wrecked. I can't wait to get home and into the shower. I'm pretty sure there's wine in my hair."

He reached out and pulled my chair closer to him. He twisted a stray curl around his finger. "Definitely wine." He rested his other hand on my thigh. "You don't have to go home for a shower."

I stared at him.

"We could always stay here tonight," he continued, putting pressure on my leg. "I'm sure they'll find us a place after everything that's happened."

I set down the bowl just to break away from his gaze. I wanted to spend the night with him, but if I didn't go home, everyone in the cul-de-sac would know. Emmett would know. Peter would know. And it would hurt them both. Swallowing hard, I sat up straight, trying to come up with words that didn't sound as lame in my mouth as they did in my head.

"I don't think I can."

"You're not thinking of you, are you?" he said in a low voice.

I met his gaze. "Things I do affect other people, whether I like it or not."

"People aren't supposed to carry their pasts around to berate them when they try to step into the future, Ava. They make choices, and they make mistakes, but they're not supposed to drag their baggage around forever."

"Emmett's important to me."

"And when he's grown and has a life of his own? Are you allowed to have a life of your own _then_ , or is your past still allowed to punish you? When do you get to stop paying for caring about him and his father?"

"It's not like that." My cheeks burned. "And for the record, I'm not saying no."

He leaned closer, a smile creeping across his lips. "Then what are you saying?"

"What are we doing here, Phoenix? What even is this? I mean, where does this end up?"

His smile died. "I'm not looking for another wife, if that's what you mean."

I shoved his chest, but he didn't budge. "I'm not looking for a husband, either, your highness."

He held my gaze. "We're friends, and I like spending time with you."

"I'm glad we're friends," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But do you have a lot of friends that you like to spend time with in hotel rooms?"

He grinned. "Not so many, no. Would it bother you if I did?"

"It's just..." I stared at his hand on my leg. "I do care about you, and the twins, and if things get weird..."

"Why should they get weird?" He tipped my chin to make me look at him. "We've been through many things together since we've met. We're still capable of holding conversations, aren't we?"

"That's true." Still, I had a habit of falling hard for men who were wrong for me.

"Ava, I like... experiencing things with you. Tonight, I know I'd enjoy your company. I don't know where it ends up. I can't see the future." He leaned in and brushed his mouth against my ear. "Will you keep me company tonight?"

He held my gaze, and I wasn't sure if my imagination was particularly vivid or if he had a similar gift to Lucia, but I suddenly saw a flash of us both together, naked and sweating, and it was hard to concentrate on much else.

"I—"

His phone rang before I figured out my answer. He ignored it, but when my phone beeped less than five seconds later, I got worried.

"This could be something." I checked my phone. "It's Noah," I said. "They need help at the children's home."

Phoenix checked his phone, and the colour drained from his face.

"What?" I said. "What is it?"

"The baby," he said. "I'm so sorry, Ava. She's gone."

# 13

"You blame me," he said. Phoenix had kicked the driver out of the limo to drive us himself.

"I'm not blaming anyone," I said, gritting my teeth. Except myself. "Let's just hurry up and find out what exactly happened."

"This could be a good thing," he said after a few minutes. "Whoever took her must have left clues. It makes it clear that—"

"Shut up," I said, clutching the seat. "Just shut up talking about good things until we get her back."

He glanced at me. "You care more about the welfare of the child than the person who took her."

"So?"

"Just an observation."

I glared at him. "I really hope you're not judging me right now, Phoenix."

He murmured something under his breath. I didn't care to work out what it was.

I was still in my bare feet. My jacket was gone—and so was the baby. The baby I was supposed to somehow take care of. The baby who was a slave. The baby who meant _something_. My head went to places I wasn't ready for, and my gut churned at the thought of her fate.

I punched the glove box. It popped open, and I slammed it shut. "For fuck's sake! She was at the children's home. How the hell did somebody take her?"

"That's what we're going to find out," he said calmly. "And we will find out."

"We've found out nothing so far," I said impatiently. "Everything just slips out of my grasp before I can make bloody sense of it. Somebody brought her to me for a reason. All of the things that have been happening have been for a reason, and I feel like I'm the one to blame. I'm cursed."

"Cursed?"

"How else can I explain the bad mojo? Lately, everything I touch fails. It goes wrong, things get twisted, and I..." I blew out a heavy breath. "I try to fix things, to do the right things, and it just blows up in my face."

"This is not your fault," he said. "Calm yourself, or you'll be no help to me when we start searching for her."

"The werewolves," I said. "Can we use them to help?"

"If they can, they will." He reached out and touched my hand, his quiet calm spilling over to my side of the car. "This child will be found."

But what if she wasn't? What if she was harmed because of me? My thoughts spiralled, and numbers threatened to spill off my lips. I had to draw back, rein in my panic, and regain my control. My fangs had even protruded. I made an effort to retract them then concentrated on breathing deeply. I was no use to Noodle if I couldn't even think straight. I had to _think_.

"I don't like the timing," I said after a few minutes of silence. "We're off getting distracted by drama, and somebody snatches the baby."

"Coincidence," he said, but he didn't sound convinced.

Maybe he was thinking along the same lines I was: we'd had plenty of distractions lately. What if even the baby was one?

The journey felt endless, but we finally pulled through the gates of the children's home then took a road away from the main building. "The witches and the child were holed up out here," he said. "Far away from the children's home. In hindsight, she would have been better off with the other children."

"If whoever took her got past a working coven of witches, then maybe it was for the best that the kids didn't get in their way."

Clementine was waiting for us outside a cottage. The windows flickered as though lit by candlelight. "You're here," she said nervously when we got out of the car.

"What happened?" Phoenix demanded.

"We're not sure," she said. "We saw nothing, heard nothing. We were finishing off the spell, then the child was gone. Without a trace."

"How is that even possible?" I demanded.

She looked exhausted. "We were so consumed with the spell that we missed something."

"Is the spell complete?"

"Almost," she said. "In less than an hour, we'll find out where the child was born. Whoever took the child was too late to stop that spell, at least."

"I'm going to check in with the kids," I said. "Just in case any of them heard anything weird."

Phoenix nodded. "I'll take a look around here."

I jogged back to the main building, where Noah and Ari were already waiting for me at the side doors.

"The baby's gone," I whispered under my breath. "Did you see anything?"

"Ari did," Noah said, nudging her.

She looked bored, as though she didn't care, but an excited gleam in her eyes made it past the surliness. "There was smoke. Some kind of distraction spell, I think, but it wasn't like... normal magic."

"How did you see it?"

"I woke up and felt weird. I've been catching bits of magic from the caretaker's cottage, but this felt different. I went to the window, saw the smoke. So I woke Noah, and he missed the smoke, but he heard the car and went to check it out."

"Car?"

Noah nodded. "A black hatchback lingered at the gates with the engine running, then it was gone. When we saw the witches running around, looking freaked out, I texted you. We knew something was wrong, but we weren't sure what happened."

"Aren't there guards on patrol?"

"Not anymore," Noah said. "Not for a while now."

I clenched my fingers into fists. "Of all the... okay, thanks, you two." I heard footsteps and shoved the kids through the doorway and into the kitchen, where I hid with them.

Phoenix and Clementine walked by just in time for me to hear Phoenix say, "Ava believes she's been cursed. Is that something you can help with?"

"After this is over," Clementine said. "I promise I'll—"

Then they were gone. I looked at the others, about to tell them to go to their rooms.

Ari took a step toward me. "I did _not_ curse you."

"I never said you did. I'm not talking about childish pranks, Ari. This is real. Serious. Now, you two, get back upstairs before anyone realises you were gone. If you notice anything else, let me know."

"I can help," Noah said.

"Not with the witches around," I whispered. "I don't trust them."

I left and found Phoenix and Clementine. "Anything?" I asked.

"No trace of anything," Phoenix said.

"Not even magic?" I asked.

Clementine narrowed her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing yet."

The three of us walked back toward the cottage. A young witch with vibrant blue and purple hues to her hair came running toward us, a gleeful look in her eyes.

"We did it! We found the birth place."

"You have an address?" Phoenix asked.

The woman glanced at Clementine, who nodded. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "This is it," she said. "This is where the child was born."

* * *

Phoenix and I drove alone to the address Clementine had given us.

"Do we trust this?" I asked, my voice still sharp with anger. I blamed Phoenix and the witches for taking the baby in the first place—and myself for letting them. I could have stopped them or done more, and if it had been anyone other than Phoenix, maybe I would have. I'd been blinded. That couldn't happen again.

"We don't have a choice." He glanced at me. "What weren't you saying earlier? Did the children notice something?"

"Noah and Ari. She said she was woken up by some unusual magic. She saw smoke of some kind, and Noah heard and saw a car waiting outside."

"They contacted you first?"

"Noah overheard me talk about the baby," I explained. "I asked him to watch out for anything weird. Tonight counted as weird."

"It surely did," he said. "I find it interesting that magic was used here tonight. Perhaps another coven decided the child belonged to them."

"A stronger coven, obviously," I muttered.

"We don't need a witch war." Phoenix turned a corner as sharply as possible in a limo. "We should have stolen a car."

"Yeah, that will do the Senate's reputation so much good." I frowned. "Did you know there haven't been any guard patrols at night for ages?"

"I didn't." He shook his head. "Something's very wrong with all of this."

"We should get help."

"When we find out what's at that address," he said. "We don't have time to wait. I sent Shay a text, telling him to be ready, but I don't want anybody else getting in the way tonight."

"How should we handle it?"

"The way we handle everything," he said with a cold smile. "Everything gets what it deserves."

I shivered with anticipation. Whoever had stolen the baby was not in my good books. I didn't care that darkness lurked in Phoenix's expression. I was sure I had it, too.

We travelled past Citywest, away from the businesses, until we ended up on a poorly lit road filled with potholes. Our destination was an old house, more of an estate, on a narrow patch of land. The area was dark and deserted. Conspicuously tall walls kept out prying eyes, but the metal gates were wide open and inviting. Nothing to hide. Or a trap.

"This is where she was born," Phoenix said. "But it doesn't mean it's where she is now."

"Can't witches do tracking spells or something?" I got out of the car and slammed the door.

"There's no need to take your bad mood out on the car," Phoenix murmured as he followed me.

I stood outside the gates and looked at the house, reaching out with my other senses. "Doesn't seem like anyone's home."

"The front door is ajar. Perhaps there was a burglary."

I glanced at him. "Is that an excuse for you to go inside?"

His upper lip curled. "I need no excuses."

Side by side, we passed through the gates and strode along a short, well-kept path to the front door. The massive brass knocker had been recently polished.

"You may wait outside, if you wish," Phoenix said.

"Yeah, right." I pushed open the door and stepped inside, holding my breath, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

Inside, the building was slightly more modern than it first appeared, but it still didn't look like a home. There were no paintings or pictures on the walls, rugs on the floors, or decorations of any kind. The hallway felt soundless, full of shadowy corners.

Phoenix's shoes echoed as he took a step toward the looming staircase. Wary, I again reached out with my other senses, but there was only Phoenix. My first impressions were correct. The baby, and whoever had taken her, was gone.

"They knew we were coming," I said bitterly. "They must have known. Somebody told them, Phoenix. They had to."

"They may have moved on as soon as the child was left on your doorstep," he said. "I'll look upstairs. You search these rooms. There may be a sign, some clue left behind."

I nodded, pressing my lips together to stop me from losing all control. I headed into the main room—and found nothing comforting there. The building was too large to be a house and too old-fashioned to be a business. I saw no sofas, televisions, computers, or books. But the carpets were well-worn, and the lack of cobwebs made me think the place was regularly used.

The kitchen held some contents, all basics. There were meat and frozen vegetables in the freezer and a carton of sour milk in the fridge. No luxuries.

I searched everywhere, confused by the house, until I found a staircase leading down. I hesitated at the top. I never found anything good at the end of surprise stairwells. Carefully, because my feet were bare, I stepped down into the darkness. I felt the walls for a light switch and thankfully found one. I switched it on, and the place flooded with light. I was at the start of a narrow corridor with doors on either side. Perhaps the house was old enough to have servants' quarters.

I checked each room. They all had four narrow bunks, small shelves, and a tiny wardrobe, but I found no clothes. Some of the rooms were musty, as though they had been closed up for a long time, but others still held traces of scents. People had lived there, and only recently.

I heard Phoenix calling and went back up the stairs to find him. I startled him in the kitchen. "I need you to take a look at something," he said. "What do you make of this place?"

"I'm not sure. There are bunks downstairs, some of them definitely used recently, but the place has been cleaned out almost completely."

He opened the freezer. "There's some food here."

"There's no chocolate or ice cream," I said. "And the freezer is restaurant sized. A lot of people could stay in this place, but as a place to live, it would be extremely dreary."

"Take a look upstairs," he said. "There's a room I need your thoughts on."

I followed him up the creaking wooden stairs. The bannisters smelled like furniture polish, and the carpet runner looked clean but well-worn. The building should have felt like the perfect example of a haunted house, but it was so empty and lifeless that it felt more like a show building, even if things were well-used. It made no sense.

A couple of bedrooms were far more luxurious than anything else in the house. Oddly, though, there were no forms of entertainment. Phoenix pointed me toward a plainer room with a large bed in the middle and a sink to the side.

"Can you smell something?" he asked.

I sniffed. "Bleach, maybe. Cleaning materials. Wait." Frowning, I moved closer to the bed. "There is something." Something metallic and familiar. Not faded. Covered up. "Blood."

I ripped the white sheets off the bed. The mattress was stained with a rusty colour. I blew out a shaky breath. It could have been a death bed or a birthing bed. It was too hard to tell. Not that it mattered. Noodle could be anywhere, on her way out of the country even. I was too many steps behind to help her.

A lump formed in my throat. I had failed her, and I had no clue how to make that right.

To my surprise, Phoenix wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. "We'll find the child, and we'll find who's responsible." He looked down at me. "Finding her is more important, though."

I tried to smile. "You aren't completely hopeless, Phoenix."

He leaned down to brush a light kiss against my lips. We would find the baby together.

"Did you look everywhere?" I asked.

"I think so," he said. "I found very little. Either this place wasn't used frequently, or it was cleared out completely."

We went back out into the hall. I glanced at the rooms when I passed the open doors, but something didn't make sense.

"I feel like there's a room missing," I said. "Compared to downstairs."

"One bedroom is noticeably smaller than the rest. Perhaps I missed something."

I followed him into the box room. There was no window, but a draft came from the back of the room. There was little in the room to search, but we discovered a false back on the wardrobe, which hid a door.

"Ready?" Phoenix whispered.

I nodded and pushed open the door. My breath hitched when it opened into an office. We stepped through, and all of the coldness from the house disappeared. There was life in that room—warmth and sound, too.

Books had been ripped from the shelves, mostly clearing out the room. Remains of burned books smoked in the embers of a fire. While Phoenix explored the shelves, looking through the little that remained, I searched the desk.

It appeared to be empty, but lying under the desk was a book that had been missed, opened on a very specific page.

The ledger mentioned tithes, and amongst lists of bloodlines and names was Helena's. Even Lorcan and Lucia were mentioned. And across the page, linked by a number of relatives, was another entry on their maternal family tree—the recent birth of an unnamed baby girl. Someone in the family had traded away far too many years of their descendants' lives.

Chilled, I shoved the book away from me. The twins' names were circled as important, just like Helena and the baby's mother, Lavinia. Phoenix took one look at my face and grabbed the ledger. He read the pages, his expression hardening. And I knew then that the baby wasn't as important as the person who'd stolen her. The person who knew all about Phoenix's family. He would never let this go.

I opened an envelope that had fallen out from the back of the book, and a pile of photographs slipped out onto the desk. I saw my face a number of times, along with the faces of my friends, including Phoenix and the twins. A couple of sheets of paper listed our regular comings and goings, times, places, and even the people we spoke to. Whoever the slaver was, this person was obsessed with _us_.

# 14

Phoenix dropped me home then went to fetch Icarus. He wanted to be alone with the werewolf, to do anything to find a trace of scents at the abandoned home where the baby had been born. He was angry, but I suspected that at least some of the anger was because somebody had ruined his neat little plans. Control was important to him, and a pair of invisible hands had taken all control from us. Worse, those invisible hands came with eyes that had been watching all of us when we hadn't suspected a thing. We didn't even know what to do next.

At home, I couldn't sleep, so I sat up reading through ledgers, making notes on everything that was weird and everything we had discovered. Maybe nothing was connected. Maybe I was trying to convince myself of something that didn't even exist.

There was a slave trader. There was a protection racket. There were loan sharks. There were protesters. Emergency services and the judicial system weren't working as they ought to have. The newspapers were stirring up trouble on a regular basis. Bad luck was following around almost everyone I knew.

Magic was involved in almost everything, being the one thread that linked different acts together. The random events were possibly the acts of someone trying to shine a spotlight on what magic could do. Shifters were the current public enemy number one, but how long would that last? Perhaps witches would be next.

I didn't know who was behind any of it—the shooting, the mischief, the little things that kept getting in the way and making every process more difficult. Why had nobody come to the aid of Wesley and the others when they rang for help? Why had so many people suddenly lost their jobs? Everything was a question. It was about time we started finding answers.

And then I remembered something—something I should have recalled sooner. Once, back when we were seeking out Emmett's fate, Peter and I had done a terrible job of questioning the brethni who lived next to Moses's flats. They had said Emmett was in Hell, and we hadn't believed them. We couldn't—not then. But they had turned into allies of sorts, and I had never liked to bring up that first day because of the way Peter and I had behaved. But I had been digging into the past a lot lately. I had to keep going. If they knew anything at all that could lead me to Noodle, then it was worth offending them again.

I persuaded Moses to set it up the next morning after I had grabbed a couple of hours of sleep. I met him outside the warehouse where the brethni lived.

He wrinkled his nose at the smell. "I hate coming over here. I don't know what that smell is, and I don't want to know. I'm just glad we don't get a bang of it in the flats on hot days."

"Think they'll talk to me?"

"They can be a bit off sometimes, but they don't lie. If they do tell you anything, you'll know it's the truth." He screwed up his face. "You have to ask the right questions. And they like... I don't know, riddles or something."

I shrugged and followed him to the doors. "They're not my biggest fans."

He looked at me in surprise. "What are you on about? They have a lot of respect for you. I don't know why you think everyone hates you."

"Not everyone."

He sucked in a breath as we reached the door. "Right. We should get this over and done with."

He opened the door and let me in. The brethni were one of those hive mind species who all communicated directly, shared the same thoughts and experiences, and basically lived as an actual community. The succubi were similar, but while the women could easily pass as human, the brethni appeared distinctly alien, when they revealed their true selves. The succubi created a welcoming aura in order to feed, but anyone who wandered into the warehouse would see squatters and junkies and feel as though they should leave. To us, the brethni were slinky, reptilian looking creatures who didn't die easily and were a great help in a battle.

"All right, lads," Moses said, and I could tell he was dying to light up a cigarette. "Ava has her questions ready."

"And will she listen to the answers this time?" the leader asked, walking toward us with half a dozen of his people at his back.

I felt uneasy all of a sudden. "I did listen the first time," I said. "Just maybe not as well as I should have until it was too late."

"And we're back full-circle," he said. "Another missing child."

"This one is a newborn," Moses said. "Not quite the same thing, am I right?"

The brethni leader nodded. It occurred to me that I didn't know if they had individual names. I knew very little about them, and I hadn't attempted to learn more. That might have been foolish.

"Do you know if there's a slave trade running in Ireland right now?" I asked. "Or tithes. Do you know anything about tithes?"

"The world knows plenty of tithes. They are older than most beings on this island."

I bit my lip. "Are there any big rollers who might want to step into Fionnuala's shoes—and have the means to do it?"

"There are plenty of beings who could step into those shoes if they wished," he said after a moment. "We know too much about tithes, and the time is ripe for slaves. Then again, it often is."

"Tell me about the tithes, _please_ ," I said.

"Why do you ask about it? Is it valuable to you?"

"Because I keep hearing it being mentioned. How should I know if it's of value until I know more?"

"That's your downfall—you who pays tithes of your own." He glanced around the room, his eyes gleaming pinkish-red. "We were once caught up in a tug-of-war. Our young were taken, our history broken. They died, those young, until somebody realised they needed all of us or none of us."

"By whom? Why did you have to pay a tithe?" And was my tithe my service to the Matriarch, or was he being only semi-literal? I wasn't sure I was smart enough to endure a conversation with the brethni leader.

"We owed because our ancestors owed. We were owned because their ancestors owned. And our debt was bought, one we hadn't earned and couldn't clear, and for a favour, we paid in blood and secrecy. We hear whispers, but it is not our place to interfere." He gave me a knowing look. "You should know that better than anyone."

But I didn't. I never knew enough. "I don't think I know anything I need to know."

"And I don't know who is responsible for the child you seek," he said more kindly. "I only know that we are left alone. And tithes have long been used as a way to control the weak and grow in power. You cut some threads—that is true—but there are still gaps in the tapestries, and gaps are always meant to be filled. You will never clear away the dark patches, no matter how hard you try. That is not your purpose."

"Then what's my purpose?" I asked.

He paused for a beat. "To clean up the mess that is left behind."

I took a step back. "Where do you even get this stuff from?"

"That's our business," they all said as one, scaring the ever-living crap out of me.

Moses's phone rang, and by his concerned responses, I could tell something was up. All of the brethni had gone on high alert.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked the leader, who had begun swaying.

"Trouble," he said, his voice morphing until it was hard to make out the word.

Moses hung up. "Loan sharks are back."

"Now?" I said.

He nodded. "I have to get back to the flats."

I was more than happy to end the unsettling conversation in the midst of the brethni's eye-wateringly smelly lair. "I'll come with you."

"As will we," the brethni leader said.

I didn't have time to process the conversation. We raced back to the flats, where trouble was certainly brewing. I sent Shay a quick text to let him know he might want to make an appearance.

"Ah, shit," Moses said when we got close enough to see the trouble.

Spread along the road and the concrete between a two blocks of flats, two groups of a dozen people were facing off, at least one heavily armed.

Moses pointed at the latter group. "They belong to the bellend I told you about. He must have been watching out for the loan sharks. Or some idiot let him know."

"This can't be good," I said as a couple of men from each group squared up to one another.

Children hung from monkey bars in the playground, staring at the gangs in fascination. I couldn't make out if the loan sharks were armed, but some of them looked too confident to be unprepared.

"They stink of magic," one of the brethni said. "It clouds minds."

"Doesn't cloud yours," I said.

"It's not so powerful. But it is strangely obvious. Wanting to be seen. Perhaps to intimidate."

"That explains some of your questions," I told Moses. "Why people are so fooled. But it doesn't explain why so many of them need the money."

"The factory," he said. "Sacked anyone from around here. Said they didn't have the hours. But I've heard they have new people in."

"Maybe we should talk to the owner."

"I've tried. He's out of the country—indefinitely—and the manager is scared shitless. Something's up."

We drew close enough to the arseholes to hear the exact nature of insults being thrown from one side to the other. Both sides seemed hesitant to get drawn into actual violence, so that was a plus. People had congregated in the stairwells to watch, gesturing at the children in the playground to run. The kids paid no heed, and I wondered if that magic the brethni mentioned was at play.

"Get this shit out of here," Moses demanded in his best scary voice.

"Mind your business," a short stout man said, coming to the fore of the criminal gang. "This has nothing to do with you."

"You're in my fucking flats, Jay," Moses spat. "It's my business."

Jay looked at him with flat eyes. "Think you're in charge here, _Benny_?"

"That much hasn't changed." Moses shifted his stance, using his weight to his full advantage. "And I'm telling the lot of ye to fuck right off."

"Magic, but not a witch," the brethni leader murmured.

I followed his gaze. One of the loan sharks was muttering under her breath, holding something out in her hands.

"Hey," I said. "Cut that shit out!"

She disappeared into the back of her crowd.

"Who do you work for?" I asked the loan sharks.

"That's what _we're_ trying to find out," Jay said with a sharp laugh. "They're not talking." He lifted his arm and aimed a handgun at the loan sharks. "I'll just have to make them."

"Where the hell are all of the guns coming from?" I said tensely.

Moses didn't look worried. "Can't you see how old that thing is? He's just showing off the size of his dick. Fucker best be jogging on before I haul him out of here myself."

The loan sharks looked even less worried. One unrecognisable word was shouted, and the gun flew out of Jay's hand in a spark of light and heat. He fell back and wrung his hand, swearing loudly.

"Where'd the gun go?" I whispered.

Moses pointed at the loan sharks. "Take your magic and get the fuck out!"

The criminals took a step back. Apparently, they hadn't realised that magic had disarmed Jay.

A young man with red hair nudged Jay. "See, I told you he's in bed with all of the weirdos. Them lads aren't human. I'm telling you."

"And what?" I began.

Jay held up his hand, still panting. "We're not here about that. This is about money. If anyone's going to be offering loans—"

"It won't be you," Moses said coolly. "Now get this straight with your boss. I don't give two fucks who he is or what he is, but he doesn't bring his crap to my door. These cretins are nothing to do with me, and neither are you."

"You've changed your story," Jay said with a laugh, recovering from the magical attack. "When you're looking for favours, you're a lot nicer, Benny."

"They call me Moses, you fuckwit," Moses said. "Now fuck off."

The loan sharks had been slowly backing up, but the brethni moved behind them to stop them. Unfortunately, the criminal gang took that as a sign of help and advanced on the loan sharks.

The woman who had been whispering words of magic apparently ran out of spells and came out of the crowd, pointing Jay's gun at him. She fired, missed completely, and hit a painted sign in the playground. In her panic, she dropped the gun. One of the brethni swooped in and kicked it away as Jay dove for it. Both sides took that as a signal to attack.

That was about when Moses lost his mind. "Ye little..." With flaming red cheeks, he threw himself into the scuffle. I heard a siren in the distance and decided it was better to keep Moses out of trouble. I followed and found him pounding Jay in the face with his fists.

I hauled him off with great difficulty. "What!" he roared before realising it was me.

"The police are here," I said calmly. "Let them deal with this."

"They could have shot a kid!"

"The brethni have the gun. Now let's help the IAs."

Tyres squealed, and a large group of Integration Agents swarmed the scene. The brethni had been slyly disarming criminals while keeping out of the scuffle. As men and women fled the scene, they followed, leaving the IAs to deal with the injured or those too stupid and slow to run.

Shay directed the arrests, but by the sullen looks in the loan sharks' gazes, they weren't going to be talking. An ambulance arrived for Jay, and the children finally fled the playground as though they'd been freed from a spell. People from the flats descended from the stairs and threw things at those who had been arrested, which caused more drama that had to be calmed.

"I have a bad feeling this isn't going to go anywhere," Shay said when he finally reached us.

"I have a bad feeling it's going to go too many places," Moses said. "I'm tired of this crap. Back in the day, that little upstart couldn't even look me in the eye."

"What?" Shay said.

"He's mad because an underling back-chatted him," I teased.

"Leave it out," Moses said. "If they weren't shitting themselves over what the brethni might be, that would have been a lot worse."

"Look on the bright side," I said. "If your pal Jay hadn't turned up, the loan sharks would have been able to vanish before Shay got here."

"We'll try to get something out of the sharks," Shay said. "But the way things have been going lately..."

"This is going to get messy," Moses said. "If they meet elsewhere, you'll have more than a few dodgy arrests on your hands."

"My arrests aren't dodgy. They were breaking the law."

"So were the others who ran," Moses said, lighting up a cigarette. "Didn't see any of your pigs chasing them."

Shay yanked the cigarette out of Moses's mouth and flung it away. "Watch your mouth."

Moses picked it up and popped it back in his mouth. "Jesus," he said around the cigarette. "There was no need for that. Everyone's so touchy lately."

"Any news?" I asked Shay to interrupt whatever the hell was going on between them.

"A few things," he said, shooting Moses a wary look. "I'll give you a lift, and we can talk."

"Ah, yeah," Moses said. "Don't let me stop you. I have my own problems to sort out. Jay's going to cause me some grief if I don't nip this in the bud. See you in the ring this week." He lifted his shoulder into an exaggerated shrug. "If you don't bitch out first."

"What's that about?" I asked as Moses walked away.

Shay grinned. "He's mad because he thought he was going to teach the kids a few things about sparring and got knocked out. He's been touchy ever since. I'm going to have to let him knock me out just to make him feel better about himself."

"Boys," I muttered under my breath.

# 15

"I'm taking you back to the office," Shay said when we got into his car. "I want to show you a few pictures."

"I have time," I said. "I take it Phoenix has been keeping you updated."

"Yeah, I heard about the baby. We have people looking into this. There's been no evidence of anyone selling slaves in Dublin right now." He caught sight of my pained expression and cleared his throat. "But she's safe, I'm sure. She's valuable, right? Otherwise, they would have just left her. And if she's valuable, she'll be treated well."

"And her mother?" I shrugged. "She was probably punished for losing the baby in the first place."

"Phoenix has been telling me about tithes and indentured servitude," Shay said. "What if the mother is free already?"

That thought made me shiver. The idea that she was free while her child was being held captive was unsettling. Did she even know where her child was? Did she care?

"Life is so much more complicated than anyone warns you about," I said. "Have you seen Phoenix?"

"No," he said. "I spoke to him on the phone." He glanced at me. "He sounds... stressed."

"That's one word for it. We found ledgers with Lorcan and Lucia's names on it. Photos of everyone. Details. I'm pretty sure the twins are related to the baby, which is beyond weird. Everything is connected to something else. I think Phoenix is afraid for the twins."

"He was searching with one of the werewolves," Shay said slowly. "But he picked up nothing. A suspicious lack of something. He's still looking, as far as I know."

"Has he even slept?"

"I doubt it. When he sets his mind to something... just be careful with him, Ava. He gives off a certain appearance, but behind it all, he's not in a good headspace."

"I know he's struggling. All of this has really brought it out of him. You need to find a way to get him to sleep before he loses his mind."

"Do you think the twins are in danger?"

"They're not here." I paused. "Maybe that was on purpose. I mean, Lucia seemed like she was settling back in, and then she left so abruptly again. I wonder if she saw something that made her leave. She doesn't always let people in on what's going on in her head. I wish Lorcan would call me. He never does."

"Do you think he's a bit miffed about, you know, you and Phoenix?"

I gave him a sharp look. "Excuse me, Shay?"

He smiled. "Oh, come on. You were his date the other night."

"No, I was a last-minute replacement." I looked out the window to hide my burning cheeks. "And I'm sure Lorcan doesn't believe otherwise."

"You were Lorcan's friend first. He might be a bit... creeped out by it all. I know I would be if you started going out with my dad."

I turned on him, only to find him grinning. "Shut up," I said, tempted to lamp him instead. "It's not fair to torment me this week."

"I'd rather you were angry than upset," he said softly. "I know you're feeling this more than most would."

"I don't know what to feel anymore," I said. "It's like everything I've ever accomplished is being undone. The amount of information in that building the other night. Me, my friends, even our businesses. It's like finding out you have a stalker."

"We'll catch up to them," Shay said. "It's just a matter of time."

We arrived at the Integration Offices, and in Shay's room, I looked through photos of strangers.

"I don't recognise anyone here," I said. "Was it important?"

"Depends." He sat in a chair and steepled his fingers together. "I've found somebody who works in emergency services who I believe is betraying the system for their own gains. There are a couple of others who are still suspected, but this woman"—he held up a photo of a young brunette—"is being paid an exorbitant amount of money to ignore emergency calls from a blacklist."

"A blacklist? There's an actual list?"

"Yep." He sighed. "When I confronted her, she was extremely forthcoming. She has no idea who has been paying her. She had a lot of debt from living beyond her means, and she was contacted months ago. She refused at first, but the money was too tempting. She handed over a list of names and addresses she was supposed to ignore. The calls would come in, she would be expected to pass them along the chain, but instead, she made them disappear, even going as far as to delete the recordings."

"What a little bitch," I muttered. "Who's on the list?"

"A lot of people and places," he said. "I don't think it's all about you, Ava. Of course, your home and associated business are all there. There are a lot of connections to you, like Wes, but there are others, too. Connections to other supernaturals who are seen as important."

"So what's the link? Why are we all on that list?"

"Influence? The potential for power, maybe. Possible opponents when it comes to re-establishing old laws, even," he said. "Some are names who were considered for the Senate; others were involved in taking down the Council and reestablishing a new order. More are simply relatively powerful or rich people. Some are the heads of families; others have recently come into money. It's an odd mix. If we look at the list as possible enemies of this person, we might find a connection to all of them. That's what we're working on."

"Most of my enemies are dead," I said smartly.

He held out his palms. "Exactly! Which is why this person needs to keep an eye on you."

That made sense. "Is there anything any of us can do?"

"Just keep doing what you're doing and updating me as you go. I'm more worried about the atmosphere. Even in this building, people are nervous. There's no trust right now. And this woman isn't the only who got paid lately. The woman who was supposed to be released instead of Jennifer Boyle had a pretty big payday."

"And let me guess. She's not talking."

"Nobody's talking." He grimaced. "I'm losing my touch."

Something occurred to me. "Emmett can't talk about things that have happened to him. Do you reckon it's possible that something like that is happening here? That people literally _can't_ talk?"

He rubbed his chin. "It's a possibility. I'll look into it." He gestured toward his desk, covered in paperwork. "Eventually."

"Does the Senate know anything about what's going on?"

"Not yet," Shay said. "Or as little as possible. You should try to get some rest. Things could go bad quick. We all need to be ready."

"I hate this waiting game," I said. "It's beyond frustrating to not even know where to look for a clue. There's no real trail to follow."

"Sometimes, it's all on paper," he said. "Which will work for us if we want to make an arrest."

"What if it doesn't get that far?" I asked.

"It has to," he said sternly. "If we really want to change things, the deaths have to end. We need to be civilised."

I didn't disagree. I left him with promises to keep in touch, and he assured me he would stay connected with Breslin on the paperwork front.

On my way home, Esther called me. "What the hell is going on?" she demanded. "Should I come home?"

"No, you have things to do," I said. "Maybe keep out of the way until this dies down anyway. You don't want to get dragged into this mess."

"Yeah, I read the paper already today."

"What paper?"

"Uh, just pick up a newspaper." She hung up scarily quick.

I stopped in at the closest shop to buy a newspaper. I should have guessed—my picture was in the paper again. Of course, not when I had my hair and makeup done while wearing freaking high heels. That wouldn't have been interesting enough. No, this picture was of me sprawled on my back, legs akimbo, with a broken table beneath me, food in my hair, and a bunch of protesters about to flatten me. If Carl cut out and framed that picture, I was going to kill him, best friend or not.

I scanned the article. A pro-protester slant. Great. And Áine O'Neill again. I was really going to have to get on to her. The article was ridiculous, claiming that the "supernatural-heavy" police force had instigated the whole incident by provoking a protester known to be mentally unstable. It even finished with a few words from the victim claiming to completely understand why the protesters had barged in how they did. My day was _not_ improving.

* * *

The following morning, Anka woke me from a nap on the sofa by banging my door down.

"What's wrong?" I asked sleepily when I answered.

"The school!" She tugged on her hair, her fingers wide and clawing. "I just got a call. Something's happening. The children aren't safe. They're supposed to be safe, but they're—"

"Slow down," I said. "What exactly is happening?"

"I'm not sure! They called to warn me not to go near the school, that they're trying to control the situation. People are threatening to hurt the children, I think. We need to do something!"

Carl came out of his house. "What's going on?" he asked.

While Anka told him, I called Peter.

"I'm on my way there now," he said, his voice gruff. "I don't know what's happening, but I heard something on the radio about a protest, so I'm heading over to help. If any protester even thinks about spewing hate at my son, they'll be sorry."

"Come get me," I said. "I need to be there. This has the potential to get nasty. If the kids get hurt—or if they try to fight back—it could get even nastier."

"I'm on my way with Val," he said. "Be ready. I'm not waiting."

He hung up abruptly. I ran out of my gate to the others. "Peter's coming to get me," I said. "He should be a few minutes. He thinks the protesters are at the school, but I'll get Dita home safely, I promise."

"I'm going with you," Carl said. "I know the teachers and the kids. I could help."

"We don't know what's going on."

"I don't care," he said. "If they're calling parents, something really fucked is going on."

"I should come," Anka said, her voice trembling. She scratched at her forearms.

I grabbed her hands to stop her. "You'll only distract me, Anka. Let me find a way to deal with this. I swear I can get Dita out of there without getting her hurt. But you have to stay here. You're too upset to be useful right now."

She nodded, her eyes glistening with tears. "You'll call me if there's news?"

"We promise," Carl said reassuringly. "It's probably nothing, but we'll let you know."

Peter soon arrived. Carl and I hopped into the backseat.

"Is Anka all right?" Val asked.

"Not until we get Dita home," I said.

"Call Shay," Carl said. "He has to know more."

Peter called Shay and put him on speakerphone. He was already at the school, and the shouting in the background didn't fill me with confidence.

"What's happening?" Peter asked.

"There was a protest outside the school this afternoon," Shay said. "It's gotten a little heated. The school has decided that it would be for the best if parents don't turn up and make things worse."

"We're on our way anyway," Peter said. "Val, Carl, and Ava are with me. Carl knows the school, Ava knows plenty of the kids, and Val—" He glanced at his partner. "Val's a walking weapon. You might need our help."

"I do not want to see any violence from you lot," Shay said.

"Our presence might dissuade the protesters from growing violent," Val said.

"There are enough people here already winding them up." Shay sighed. "We could probably use your help with the parents, never mind the protesters."

By the time we got to the school, the crowds outside had turned nasty. A group of protesters had tried to picket the building with ugly signs, and some parents had gotten angry. As news spread, the number of people grew. Keeping both groups separated and away from the school gates was all the police could manage.

"Shay's by the gates," Carl said, gripping my arm. "Let's go."

Protesters got in our way, trying to stop us from passing. I spotted Phoenix in the distance, but I couldn't reach him. We squeezed our way to the front gates, despite the pinching hands trying to push us back, and caught up to Shay, who looked stressed.

"It's gotten worse," he said, leading us behind his IAs, who were just about managing to keep the crowd back. "I didn't want to mention it over the phone, but we have a new problem. Emergency services got a call about a bomb at the school."

"What?" Carl said.

"I don't believe it," Shay said, "but we have to treat this kind of threat seriously. Any hint of a bomb threat, and protocol demands we evacuate. But we can't bring the kids through the crowds, or there will be mayhem. We decided to lead them through the back way and into the next property. We organised ladders to get them over the walls, and the Gardaí have quietly been moving people from the neighbourhood for the last hour. It's going to take everyone here to manage this crowd, and the teachers are still evacuating from inside the building, but they're understaffed, and we're afraid children will be left inside."

"Some of them will be scared enough by the noise out here to hide," Carl said. "I can think of at least four with sensory issues who will freak if somebody doesn't control the situation before they have a chance to lose it."

"That's not all." Shay glared at the crowd. "There's a chance that somebody already got into the building while we were distracted with this bunch. My real concern is that we'll have another situation like the charity event, and a child will be held hostage. We're stretched to the limit, and I need people to do another sweep of the building to check for stragglers." He gestured toward the heaving group to the left. "But if the parents realise we're letting people in, they might try to storm in themselves."

"I'll go in," Carl said. "I know the building. The parents will think I'm there as a teacher, and Ava's short. She can come with me. With her hood up, nobody will even notice her. It won't cause any drama if we go in."

"Peter and I can go the long way around and sneak in then patrol outside to make sure the children aren't attacked as they leave," Val said.

"No," Shay said. "Someone could follow and find the children's escape route. You two may as well go in with Carl. We're going to get started trying to shift this lot away from the building. That should be a good distraction. There are still buses waiting to move the rest of the children to the home in the meantime. Some have already left, mostly the younger children. They were the hardest to sneak out. No idea how to be quiet and half of them thought this was the biggest adventure of their lives. Okay, let's get you in. Watch out. This crowd will make an effort to follow."

"The protesters won't get past us," Peter said.

"I'm more worried about the parents." Shay managed a sardonic smile. "Ava, Carl, if I'm wrong, and you happen to find a bomb, please run."

The IAs opened the gates, and the crowd surged toward us. The four of us hurried through, then the gates were barricaded again. I glanced over my shoulder. Phoenix was extremely close to coming to blows with someone, and even Shay was losing his cool.

"We prepared for situations like this," Carl said. "The route is marked out. This shouldn't be a problem."

"Good," Peter said. "I just hope Emmett's already gone in the first buses."

"If he isn't, we'll get him out," I said.

We separated, and Carl and I went inside the building. I followed him, and we methodically checked out each room. We passed a few stragglers leaving with an adult, and the rooms downstairs were empty, but I heard footsteps upstairs.

"This is good," Carl said. "We're in the final stages of evacuation. This should be a breeze."

We hurried up the stairs, and a large smashing sound drew our attention. We rushed toward the noise and burst into the music room, where a group of children, including Emmett, were hiding behind Ari, who was magically flinging instruments at a balaclava-clad man with a knife.

Carl tackled him without hesitation. I managed to reach the attacker and kick the dagger out of his hand before he could stab Carl. My friend pinned the man, his forearm against his throat. The man immediately stopped fighting.

Emmett raced over to me. "There's more than one," he cried. "And I can't find Dita anywhere. Leah went to look for her, and she never came back."

My heart threatened to stop. "They probably left already," I said, trying to sound reassuring. The stranger was limp under Carl, his eyes eerily blank. "Carl, can you take care of them while I go look?"

Carl pulled the man to his feet. He didn't resist. "I can handle this until we get outside. Peter and Val will be happy to take over."

Ari bundled the kids together and directed them calmly. Maybe she wasn't as terrible as I liked to think.

I left the room and raced around the rest of the floor, looking through each door until I heard a scream from somewhere upstairs. I found a staircase and ran, but I came out onto the roof. Outside, I could clearly see the mob, which had gone silent, many of them looking up in horror.

A man was advancing on Leah and Dita, who had their arms wrapped around each other. Their only defence was a scrawny wolf cub who couldn't stay in his human form. But the attacker didn't have a knife to threaten them with. This one had a gun. When I found out who was responsible for every second person suddenly threatening people with guns, then they were going to pay.

I swallowed my terror and suspicion and raced for him. Nick, despite being terrified of guns, charged simultaneously. The girls ran for cover, and I skidded in low while Nick jumped at the attacker's arm. The man tried to switch his aim, but he was already buckling on top of me, and although the gun went off, I smelled no blood but the man's when Nick's fangs dug into his flesh.

The man shouted in pain and dropped the gun. I could have sworn I heard clapping outside. I grappled with the attacker while Nick growled ferociously next to us. I kneed the man in the groin as Leah darted in and kicked the gun away from his reaching hands. Moaning, he rolled over, and Nick shivered like a puppy, close to losing control.

"Leah," I shouted. "Get Nick and Dita outside. Now! Find Carl and follow his instructions."

I left the gun because I was scared to touch it. I didn't like guns, either, and they had been a too-frequent presence in my life of late. I hauled the man to his feet, ignoring his protests. "Is there a bomb?" I demanded when the children had fled.

He laughed instead of answering me. I resisted the urge to punch him. I wanted to tear him apart, but people were watching outside, watching how supernaturals reacted to attacks from humans. I wouldn't give them anything to think about, no excuse to want to tear us down.

He pulled back, his eyes wide with panic, when I pushed him toward the door, but once we were inside the building, he became strangely easy to manage. Too easy. An unsettling sense of foreboding wrapped around me.

I led the man all the way through the school and outside without any more trouble and passed him to Val, who was probably the most dangerous person in the world when it came to people attacking Leah or Dita.

"Try not to kill him," I said. "I don't want to clean up his blood."

The man urinated himself. I looked away in disgust. He had been brave with a gun in his hand and children in his crosshairs.

Carl and I went back inside, but there were no more children.

"Wait!" he said. "I forgot somebody."

I waited as he darted into a nearby classroom and came out with a hamster cage. He shrugged sheepishly. "Nobody gets left behind, right?"

"You're a hero," I teased, but he _had_ been. All of the children were safe, and while there had likely never been a bomb, at least nobody had gotten hurt.

Outside, I spotted Val dragging the now-unconscious gunman behind her across the concrete. Well, _almost_ nobody had gotten hurt.

# 16

The incident at the school did nothing to calm human-supernatural relations in the city. The media outlets were taking part in a battle of their own as two very opposing stories of the incident surfaced.

"All we need now is for the Senate to turn on each other," I said, frustrated as I flipped through the evening newspapers.

Carl was driving us both to Shay's office to sign statements about what happened. I still had to sign the statement about Wes getting shot, even though there had been no sign of Jennifer Boyle since.

"They're always turning on each other," Carl said. "I'd be surprised if they _didn't_."

"They haven't publicly." I frowned at the paper on my lap. "If they did, that would be the end of the Senate."

"Maybe that's what somebody wants."

I shivered. "What if all they want is chaos?"

"People without a plan are far scarier than people with one," he replied. "Think they'll open the school again soon?"

"As soon as they're sure the kids aren't at risk. Who fakes a bomb anyhow?"

"Scum, usually."

The Integration Offices were in chaos when we arrived. "Great," I said. "Something else must have happened."

"Let's just find Shay and get this over with," Carl said.

Shay was in the midst of a discussion with Moses.

"Did something happen at the flats?" Carl asked.

"Not exactly." Shay handed us both our statements to sign.

"Did you get anything out of the people who attacked the school?" I said.

Shay leaned back in his seat. "Both men were inmates of a mental institution that happened to lose a few patients a couple of days ago. It's a private organisation, and they decided to keep the incident private. As it turns out, a third patient happened to be at the charity event."

" _No_." I shared a surprised look with Carl. "The man with the bottle?"

"The very same. He went catatonic as soon as we put him in a cell for the night, and we've been trying to track down his identity ever since." Shay gestured toward the statement in my hand. "Those two helped us make the connection, although neither man was lucid enough to tell us how they got the weapons. And now for the final kicker. When the gun was tested"—he rubbed his temples—"we discovered it was the same gun that Jennifer Foley used, the one that we didn't notice was stolen from our evidence room. So, no, there won't be any charges because these men are..." He shook his head. "If you could see them now. I'm not sure how they managed to walk around that school without help, never mind organise any of the rest of it."

"You're kidding me." I found a seat and collapsed into it. "I mean..."

"I know," Shay said. "And according to Moses here, we don't have time to worry about that anyway."

"What else is going on?" Carl sat on the floor next to me and held up the pages in his hand. "It must be big if you can afford to ignore this mess."

"It could be huge." Moses cracked his knuckles. "So the gang who came into the flats to confront the loan sharks... well, their boss happened to have gotten himself assassinated last night, and Jay has stepped up to the plate. That boy is a loose cannon, and he's already decided he knows who killed his boss."

I groaned. "He's blaming it on the sharks."

"Yep. I don't know if they did it or not, but if he catches up to those loan sharks, there _will_ be blood spilled. There's no new guns floating around, and nobody's selling. I don't know where these people sprouted from. Somebody's in control, and Jay's all set on finding out who. If he doesn't get himself killed, he'll get everyone else around him killed. And if he decides that it's my fault—that the loan sharks actually belong to me—then things will get hairy in the flats." He pointed at Shay. "And we won't back down, no matter what you say, so you can give it a rest."

Shay stared at him, his left eye twitching slightly. "Don't make me lock you up right now."

Moses let out a sharp laugh. "Sure, odds are I'll be out in an hour on somebody else's name. Give me a break, Shay. _You've_ lost control, and it's going to get worse before it gets better. Let me go after Jay, and you won't have to."

"I can't sanction crime," Shay said impatiently. "I'm not that desperate."

Moses pursed his lips. "Sure about that?"

"What if Moses pretended to help Jay?" I suggested. "Kept him out of trouble that way. In the meantime, you could look into everything else."

"I could do that," Moses said with a shrug. "If nothing else, I might pick up a few new contacts along the way."

"You're supposed to be keeping out of trouble," Shay said.

"Yet trouble keeps knocking on all of our doors." Moses leaned forward in his seat. "Come on, man. It'll only get worse if we ignore it. That's what people did for years. We have to make a stand if we don't want to get walked all over for the rest of our lives."

Shay looked at his hands for a long time before answering. "Fine. Get on it." He shot a glance my way. "One more thing. This hospital I mentioned? Jennifer Boyle's boyfriend worked there."

"Austin Foley?" Carl said, brightening. "That's good. Another connection. Once we find one of these people, we get them all. Great work, Shay."

Shay stared at him as though trying to figure out if Carl was being sarcastic or not.

"He's serious," I said, trying to be helpful. "And we've both signed our statements. There has to be something you can do about Humans First. They've gotten into everything, and if they are being manipulated, they're a danger to themselves, never mind anyone else."

"The Senate are putting pressure on me," Shay admitted. "James and Mick, in particular. They're hoping it all goes away because we can't afford to go up against them. This whole political party scheme is going to go ahead. They've gotten some important backers already. We have to be careful how we react to them. If we give them enough rope, they might hang themselves for us."

"I don't like them," Moses said. "They're the kind of people who go around brainwashing and all that."

"They're not a cult," Shay said.

"Yet," Carl said.

I stood. "The Senate is going to have to agree on this. The protesters are a nuisance at best. They've gotten away with too much."

"We're building something against them," Shay said. "We'll deal with them when the time is right."

I shrugged. "We'll head on. Let us know if you need help, Moses. I'd rather not see a gang war on the streets."

We left them and headed back to the car. "What do you think?" I asked.

"Shay's getting secretive," he said. "I don't like it. The protesters shouldn't be getting the benefit of the doubt all of the time. It's making my skin crawl. The kids could have been hurt at the school, and I blame the protesters."

"But if the men escaped from a hospital—"

"Or were busted out."

I nodded. "Or were busted out, then maybe the protest just drew them along. Who knows what happened to them? Or how they got that gun?"

"Somebody set it up," he said. "How else? But is some ancient using the protesters as a cover, or are the protesters using the vulnerable to pull the trigger?"

"Like everything else lately, I don't have a bloody clue."

Carl and I dropped into Finn's bar on the way home to see how the mood was in the supernatural world. We already knew the human side was screwed.

Finn waved us over when we walked in.

"Come on," I said. "He must have heard something."

Finn set drinks in front of us then pretended to clean the bar. "Ember's been listening in. Heard a couple of things that made sense," he said in a lowered voice.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Agitators," he said, looking around surreptitiously. "Ages-old tactic."

"I've heard about that," Carl said. "People stirring up shit, right?"

Finn nodded.

"But why?" I said.

Finn shrugged. "Lots of reasons. Distractions, takeovers, sabotage. Agitators are useful if you want to get in people's way."

"Or turn them on each other," Carl said.

"So where are they? Who are they?"

"I don't have names," Finn scoffed. "That's the point. Agitators are invisible. Nobody remembers who came up with the idea to storm a school and take hostages, yet they followed along anyway."

"Magic?" I mused.

"Sometimes," he said. "In this case, I've no idea. But I've heard whispers, too. Odd things that can be put down to bad feeling, or a big mouth, but with everything else going on..."

"So we know people are causing trouble, but we'll never find them because there's nothing tangible to go on. Great. Story of my life."

"The question isn't _why_ ," Finn said. "But _who_. Who would have something to gain?"

"It keeps pointing to a takeover," I said. "I have no clue who it could be. The vampires have been acting weird, but not in an it's-time-to-take-over-the-world sort of way."

"None of the big players have made a move," Finn said. "Everyone's watching, waiting. It's like we're holding our breaths, ready for the next thing to come along. Nobody trusts anybody else. You should know: the fae are preparing themselves."

"For what?" Carl asked.

"War, maybe? We just want to be ready this time. Phoenix hasn't told us anything, but we all feel he's being targeted. All we can do is observe and listen and watch history repeat itself."

"Another takeover would destroy us," I said. "We're not ready. We're just getting back on track."

"Some grow on the chaos," Finn said with a shrug. "Anyway, just thought you should know the vibes we've been getting. It's not idle. Ember's sure of it, and she... has a knack for finding trouble."

I glanced at Carl. "Don't we all?"

Finn moved on to deal with a customer.

Carl sipped his drink. "This just confirms what we already know. Trouble's been brewing. The attack on the school is going to fuel anti-human hate, and we're going to get stuck in the middle."

"Us?"

"Look around. Dirty looks abound."

I scanned the room. He was right. A lot of irritation was being directed toward us. But Carl had helped the children. Why was he a target? Maybe it was me. Even the protesters had pinpointed me on occasion. I had changed everything just by shining a light on the underworld.

"Let's get out of here." I considered something. "And let's walk by the newspaper building. It's nearby, right?"

"Applying for a job?"

We headed out of the bar. "Maybe you should."

"I have a job," he said, preening. "It's called being a hero."

I was about to laugh, but a tall, bulky man I didn't recognise got in our way and refused to budge. Great. More trouble.

"Humans aren't welcome here," he said. I wasn't sure what manner of species he belonged to, but there was a void behind his eyes that I didn't like.

"Neither are Neanderthals, and yet here you stand," I said. "Back off. We're not your enemy."

"My kind used to snack on the bones of humans," he declared, puffing out his chest.

Carl bristled, but he kept his tone lighthearted. "That's adorable."

The man lashed out at Carl, who narrowly avoided the strike. I grabbed the man's arm and twisted it behind his back. "Nope," I said. "Not going to happen. Now get back inside and tell your beer how much you hate us." I pushed him away from me.

He rubbed his shoulder, eyeing us warily, but he didn't come after us when we crossed the road.

"Did you see that?" Carl asked, making ridiculous chopping actions with his hands. "I moved out of the way like a ninja."

"Yes, dear."

He sobered. "This isn't good. All of the idiots in the world are getting brave."

"Agitated," I murmured. We reached the newspaper building. The lights were still on. "Wait here for a minute. I want to see somebody." I called the reporter's phone, but she didn't answer. Then I saw her form pass one of the windows, so I waited for her to leave.

"Who are we stalking?"

"Reporter who's been agitating matters," I said. "I just need to know if it's on purpose or not."

About ten minutes later, Áine left the building, and we followed her. She held her bag tightly, and I felt bad for scaring her. I called her name. She hesitated then walked a little faster.

"I just want to talk," I said. "It's about a story."

"Look, I don't—" She turned, recognised me, then backed up, almost falling over. She dropped her bag, which Carl politely picked up.

"We're not going to hurt you," he said softly.

She looked at him, and I thought she relaxed a little.

I decided to be blunt. "Are you an agitator?"

She blinked behind her glasses. She hadn't been wearing them at the charity event. "Excuse me?"

"An agitator, a person who stirs up trouble, provoking people to act out," I said. "Because there's been a lot of acting out lately."

"I know," she said in a low voice. "I was at the school."

"And then you wrote about it," I said. "And somehow managed to blame it all on the supernaturals."

She gave me a pleading look. "You don't understand."

"You're right," Carl said. "We don't. Why don't we buy you a coffee and you can tell us all about it?"

She followed him as though she didn't have a choice. I made a mental note to bring Carl with me more often. He was better with people than I could ever hope to be.

We stopped in at a half-empty cafe two streets away. I got the coffees, leaving Carl to butter up the reporter. She looked calmer, but when I sat, she grew nervous again.

"I don't go around hurting people," I said. "You don't have anything to fear from me."

"I could be seen with you," she whispered. "That might be... dangerous."

"You used to write great articles," I said. "What happened to you?"

She bit her lip. A rush of pink ran to her cheeks. "Maybe I grew up. People don't want to read the truth. They want sensationalist garbage with misleading titles that they can share on social media."

"That's not new," Carl said. "So what really changed you?"

"I did something stupid." She lowered her voice. "And then the blackmail started. I said no—of course I said no—but money started flooding my bank account. I mean, ridiculous amounts. If anyone saw, it would look... awful. So I tried to minimise the damage, but I got caught in a web of... I'm in too deep to stop now."

"What exactly were you bribed to do?" I asked.

"My job," she said bitterly. "Report on whatever I was told to report on. Take the side of whoever I was told to take the side of. But... it's different now. Tonight, I was told to switch sides from now on, to write glowing reports on people like you, the Senate, the school, anything publicly supernatural. And the biggest payment yet came today."

"I have a funny feeling that Áine's bank balance is going to go public very soon," Carl said. "Don't write it," he added. "Don't do anything more for this person."

"I don't have a choice!"

"We can help," I said. "Shay Whelan would love to help you. If you put it on record that you're being blackmailed, then whatever comes out can't touch you."

"Except the truth," she said in a small voice. "I'm going to lose my job. I haven't touched that money. I have nothing else."

"Be brave." Carl took her phone to type in his phone number. "I'll go with you to see Shay. We'll fix this for you."

"Please, just go," she said with teary eyes. "Before anyone sees us together."

"Then promise to call me," he said.

"When I'm ready," she said after a moment. "It's... difficult."

"It'll get worse if you don't," he said, rising to his feet.

I hesitated as he headed for the door. "What did you do?" I asked quietly. "The blackmail. What did you do to deserve that?"

She winced. "Fell in love with the wrong person."

* * *

I poured tea while Carl opened a tin of biscuits. Shay, Phoenix, Val, and Peter were sitting in my living room, trying to piece together everything we knew.

"Agitators," Phoenix said as he took a sip of his drink. "That makes so much sense."

"Most of what's going on can be blamed on agitators," Peter said. "It's all so disconnected that this is the only answer that fits. The school, the loan sharks, protection rackets, blackmail, _et cetera_. None of it is a perfect picture, but with the agitators, we can discount a chunk of it."

The bumps on Val's forehead sharpened a little. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I knew she hadn't been able to relax since the incident at the school. "What if we discount the wrong thing?"

"We're looking into the reporter now," Shay said.

"She's terrified of losing her job," I said. "I pity her. You know, she's great at the spin. Somebody should snap her up to do some good PR for a change. Any news on the guns?"

"Nothing new," Shay said. "We've heard of a sighting of Jennifer Boyle in Spain. Relations with Spain haven't been good since we accused them of being the source of that vampire formula. Boyle is out of our reach. We still haven't tracked down the person who assassinated the gang leader, and according to Moses, the streets are uneasy because of it. Blame's flying in all directions."

"Which works out perfectly for somebody who wants to make trouble." I sat on the arm of Phoenix's chair. "What about traitors in the government?"

"A civil service worker in my building was being bribed into making emergency calls disappear," Shay said. "And while it's mildly possible she could have had a part in the gun disappearing from evidence, she couldn't have had any influence into the number of guards at the children's home. Or the lack of support at the school." He nodded at Carl. "He's not the only one who lost his job there."

"So they were purposely understaffed," Val said. "In preparation for the attack?"

"The protesters can't be working for a supernatural," Peter said. "It doesn't fit."

"Maybe they don't know who they're working for," Phoenix said.

"Or more likely, most of them don't know that they're being played." I reached for a biscuit. "They're so full of their agenda that they'll accept anything that feeds into it."

"I'm almost certain that they're responsible for trashing a church because it opened its doors to supernaturals," Shay said. "The succubi brothels were also targeted, but the human customers ran them off. We're stretched too tight to follow up on every incident."

"The school has closed down for the foreseeable future," Phoenix said. "It's safer for the children that way."

Peter cleared his throat. "The werewolf cub, Nick... he did a good job during the incident. Maybe..." He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Phoenix's gaze. "Maybe we should give it another go with the kids."

Everyone in the room looked at Peter in surprise. My phone rang before Phoenix could reply, but I gave Peter an impressed smile as I answered.

"Breslin, I have you on speaker," I said. "Do you have it?"

"We tracked the bank account that paid the shooter's bail to a fake company. There are a number of them, all acting as fronts for a holding company that's involved in quite a few properties."

"Such as?" Shay asked.

"Youth clubs, charities, even health clinics," Breslin said. "Everything is on the up-and-up on the surface, but dig a little deeper, and there are surprises."

"Wait. **C** linics?" I looked at Phoenix. "Wasn't the fundraiser for a clinic funded by a businessman?"

"Declan Egan," Phoenix muttered, looking sick. "You met him that night. He's the one connected to the clinic."

"That's not all," Breslin said. "I kept looking, and I found a connection to that abandoned building you searched. The baby's birth place has been bought and sold a number of times by fake companies, all of them under the control of this holding company. Whoever owns the building doesn't want anyone to know they own it. The most recent purchase was a week ago."

"How sure are you on this?" Shay asked.

"The paperwork led me on a long and winding path with plenty of dead ends and red herrings, but the evidence is there all the same—if you know where to look." Breslin paused. "Whoever is in charge of this holding company has a lot to answer for—fraud and tax evasion at the very least. If they are not responsible for the crimes you're looking into, then they are helping the person who is. I'm certain there is more dirt to be found."

"Thanks for that," I said to Breslin. "Find out whatever you can on Declan Egan. Confirm that he owns the company or is linked to it. Might be nothing." Might be everything.

"Be careful, Ava," Breslin said. "There's a lot of money involved in this, and a lot of covering of tracks. But nobody can keep their fingers completely clean if they play in the dirt." He hung up.

I looked around the room. "What do you all think?"

"That can't be right," Shay said. "Declan Egan has a hand in the funding of a lot of the Senate's enterprises."

"So the Senate will be slow to act against him," Phoenix said.

"But he's human," Carl said. "Say he personally bailed out Boyle. So what? Maybe he knows her."

"Boyle's boyfriend was likely responsible for setting inmates loose from a facility partially funded by Egan," Shay said in a strained voice. "Somehow, they're linked to a number of recent events. I find it hard to believe that the protection racket and the loan sharks are _not_ connected."

"The loan sharks used magic," I said. "Not well, so I don't know what that means, but Egan's human. Then again, so are most of the people involved."

"Whoever took the baby used magic," Phoenix murmured. "And this same company is involved with the building the witches sent us to. I don't trust in coincidences."

"It would take a lot of money and effort to find so much information on us, to come up with a blacklist, and to actually blackmail so many people," Val said. "Egan's rich enough to fund that."

"But why?" Carl said. "What does he gain from it all?"

"Maybe he's working as the face of something ancient," Peter said.

"Could be blackmail again," Val said.

"I'll dig into him," Shay said. "Find out whatever I can."

"See if you can link him to any of the others we've discovered," I said. "We're moving up the food chain."

"But where does it end?" Phoenix said.

"Give me the go-ahead to look into the finances of everyone on the Senate and in the coalition government," Shay said. "I just need clearance."

"Do it," Phoenix said. "We need to root out everyone who's involved with this."

"Is Egan associated with anyone in particular?" I asked. "Is he seen with a certain species or group? What's his agenda? Is he anti-supernatural or not?"

Carl went to my computer. "I'll look up the society pages and see if any faces come up more than most."

"The papers are going to have a field day with this," Peter said.

"Egan's about to step into politics himself," Shay said. "This could be disastrous."

"A politician is going to be a target for blackmail," Val said.

"Or bribery," Carl said. "This Egan bloke has been photographed with every important person in the Senate. The photo trail makes him look like a good friend of everyone, even you, Phoenix."

"I've barely spoken two words to him," the fae scoffed.

"But the papers make it look like more." Carl laughed. "There's even a photo of you with him, Ava, shaking his hand. But the look on your face is hilarious. You don't look best pleased, my friend." He kept clicking. "Oh, wait. There's something... let me print this out."

After a moment, he brought us a piece of paper bearing a header. "This is Declan Egan's," he said triumphantly. "From his main charity foundation."

I looked at the generic graphic in confusion. "What about it?"

He grabbed a pen off the table and highlighted some of the lines. There, within the graphic, hidden in plain sight, was the shape of Noodle's slave brand.

"No," I whispered.

"Why go to all of the trouble of hiding everything and then having this in the open?" Carl said. "Either somebody's setting this man up, or he's definitely gotten his hands dirty."

"None of this adds up," Shay said, sounding frustrated.

"Somebody's playing a long game," Peter said. "That's all we know for sure."

I shivered. Somebody was always playing a long game while we played catch-up.

# 17

While the others got on with the task of finding enough evidence to bury Declan Egan, Phoenix organised an informal meeting with the local members of the Senate, dragging me along for good measure. Our mission was simple: convince the Senate that Declan Egan was the key to the answers we sought. Of course, simple didn't mean easy.

We arrived at the restaurant first. A simpering waiter led us to a small room in the back with a rectangular table and a dozen chairs. It was after dark, so the restaurant was busy. Before we went through the back, I scoped the place, looking for a familiar face. There were none.

Phoenix paced the room while we waited. I sat on the edge of a seat, about to burst out of my skin with nervous energy.

"You should sit," I said. "You don't want them to think you're upset."

He gave me a surprised look then took the seat to my right. "No, that wouldn't do at all."

Under the table, I took his hand in mine. "It's going to be okay. The twins are safe, and we have names and evidence now. It's different than last time."

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

I held his gaze. "Because I've been worrying about the same thing. Until our country strengthens itself, there will always be people ready to take advantage. But you're not alone. Look at all of the people we already have working on this."

He looked down at our entwined hands. "I'll never have peace, Ava."

The door opened, and he instantly moved from my side to greet Callista and James. Mick, Willow, and Layla soon followed. We waited for Daimhín for a long time until one of her volunteers called to say she couldn't make it.

"Let's begin," Phoenix said impatiently. "There's a number of problems to discuss, but all of them lead back to the one man—Declan Egan."

Mick and James exchanged a bemused look.

"Why is she here again?" Callista asked. "No offence, Ava, but it seems we see your face more than our own."

"I highly doubt that," Layla murmured.

The siren shot the succubus a sharp look.

"Ava's a first-hand witness," Phoenix said.

"But surely we can discuss matters without her presence," Callista said.

"Ava's trustworthy," Willow said.

"I'm not arguing that point." Callista held up her hands in protest. "That's _not_ what I'm saying."

Layla twisted in her seat to glare at the siren. "Then what are you saying?"

I rolled my eyes as an argument began. "We don't have time for this. Look. A baby was left on my doorstep. Newborn, with a slave brand."

"A slave?" Layla sat up straight. "It can't be."

"It is." I made an effort to unclench my fists. "It was. Phoenix brought the baby to the children's home so a coven of witches could trace where she was born."

"And you didn't tell us?" Callista sounded upset.

"I didn't know who I could trust," Phoenix said coolly. "Not until I looked into it further."

"Did the witches perform the spell?" Layla asked.

I nodded. "But before they managed that, the baby was kidnapped. We followed the spell, but the building was empty."

"There were ledgers," Phoenix said. "Talking about tithes and debts and the like."

"And photos," I added. "Of me, my friends, and others."

"What has this got to do with Egan?" James asked.

"We're getting to that." Phoenix leaned forward. "But it's not just the baby."

"Yeah, there's been other things," I said. "A protection racket targeted my old neighbourhood. An old friend was shot. Calls to emergency services were ignored."

"Shay later discovered a clerk had been bribed to ignore calls from a certain blacklist," Phoenix added.

"Right," I said. "And the shooter's files were mixed up with another criminal—who was paid off and kept quiet. The shooter was let out on bail, and the bail was paid for by a holding company that owns the building we searched."

"And a number of businesses associated with Declan Egan," Phoenix said. "Also, the gun which was brandished in the school was the very same one used by the shooter. It had been stolen out of evidence, according to Shay."

"There's more weird circumstances, but we haven't made all of the connections yet," I said. "Human loan sharks using magic, for example, and the death of a renowned criminal. There are agitators out on the streets, whipping people up into a frenzy. A reporter is being blackmailed to write articles of a particular slant."

"That newspaper is also connected to Egan," Phoenix said to me. "I discovered that this morning."

"Hold on a moment," James said. "You're blaming Egan because he funnels funds into charities and businesses? He funds us, too."

"It wouldn't take much effort to find out if anyone here is being blackmailed or bribed," Phoenix said coldly.

"There's just no way," James said. "It can't be Egan. Perhaps he was fooled into bailing out this woman, or... didn't you say that there was a mix-up with her identity? Perhaps he intended to bail out the woman who was supposed to be released that day. And the building... Egan's a big name on the property market. He could easily have bought that building _after_ the child was born. Or he may have rented it out."

"You're very quick to defend him," Layla murmured.

"Shouldn't we all?" James continued. "It's in our best interest."

"He's a big supporter of the Senate," Mick said. "Financially and politically. Some of us have even discussed the possibility of Egan earning the empty seat with us."

"He has done a lot of good for the city," Willow said. "Are you certain of his connection to this?"

"We don't know if he's controlling the situation or is merely acting as a front for another person," Phoenix admitted.

"You need proof," Mick said. "Real evidence."

"We're working on that," I said. "But if we could just bring him in officially and ask him questions, then he won't get the chance to cover anything up."

"Cover anything up?" James sounded astonished. "He's a pillar of the community."

"So was Fionnuala," I said.

"Not like this," Callista said, looking uncomfortable. "He's been so helpful. He's popular with the people. When things are already so tense, accusing Egan of something would appear like an act of aggression."

"You'll do nothing," Phoenix said. "You'll let slavery continue in our city."

"We've seen no evidence of slavery," James said. "You don't even have the child! If there is a child."

"Don't you dare," Phoenix said through clenched teeth.

"Get more evidence," Layla said. "Tread carefully. That man has more connections than most of us."

"So he could be running the slave trade," I said.

"How could a human manage something so shady?" Willow said. " _Why_ would they do it? Vampires, I could understand, or maybe..." Her voice trailed away when she met my gaze.

"Maybe who?" I folded my arms across my chest. "Maybe only supernaturals can do bad things? Did you mean that to sound so obnoxious?"

Willow looked away.

"I won't agree to persecute this man," James said. "We can't afford to throw baseless accusations around."

"We're not persecuting him," Phoenix spat. "We want to ask him questions!"

"There's no evidence," Mick said, sounding uncomfortable. "It's all circumstantial. There's not even any evidence of an enslaved child. We can't burn our bridges over nothing."

"You fools," Phoenix said before storming out of the room.

I made to follow him, but Layla called my name. "Careful," she said. "Don't let old fears trip you both up."

"Too late," I said. "That happened when I found a slave on my doorstep."

I followed Phoenix outside. "Phoenix," I called out.

"Get in the car," he said, scrolling through his phone. "It's raining."

I zipped up my jacket and got into the car. Phoenix sat in the driver's seat, still searching through his phone.

"They're idiots," I said. "But in a few days, we'll have more evidence."

"In a few days, Egan could be gone," he snapped.

"So what can we do?"

He held up his phone, revealing an address. "We go get him ourselves."

* * *

On the drive to Egan's family home, Phoenix was unnervingly silent. The calm that he normally emanated was gone, and left behind was a trembling rage. He was taking it all personally. I didn't speak, either, afraid that his capacity for rage would consume me, too. One of us needed to remain calm when faced with Egan.

But if Egan was the slaver, I wanted to rip his head from his body. I wouldn't do it, but I would _want_ to, and I could already tell I would have to keep a close eye on Phoenix.

"I don't understand why he's doing all of this," I said. "If he has a hand in all of the things that have happened, I mean."

"Why? Who cares about why?" Phoenix said. "Like others, he's fuelled by power, and with power comes greed. They walk hand in hand."

"Don't you think it seems a little messy?" I tapped my fingers on my knees. "If he's aiming for a seat on the Senate, or even total control, surely there are cleaner methods."

Phoenix glanced at me. "I don't want to stare into his soul, Ava. I don't care what makes him tick. I just need him to pay. Why would he have so many pictures, so much information, if he wasn't hunting you?"

"He can't get to me."

"He could have someone walk up to you while you're shopping and shoot you in the head."

"But he hasn't." I frowned. "So what's he waiting for?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps he thinks he can still make allies of us. He lost that hope the day he focused on my children, the day he..." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "If we get a confession, then we can seek vengeance."

"You mean justice," I said softly.

"Do I?" He nodded. "It's just ahead. Be careful. We need him to talk."

Egan lived in a gated community. The gates hung wide open as if welcoming us in. I grew nervous—mostly because of the energy leaking from Phoenix. If he decided he didn't want to be good anymore, then the world was screwed.

"What do you want me to do in there?" I said as we approached the house.

"Stop him from running if he tries. Listen for lies." He glanced at me. "You don't need direction from me."

"I get the feeling you'd like to take the lead."

"I'd like the person responsible for all of this to get what they deserve." He reached out and brushed his knuckles across my cheek. "And I appreciate you being here. It would be easy to bury your head in the sand like the Senate."

"They're just being careful. Maybe you should be more careful, too. You've more to lose than I do by being here."

He pulled in outside the house and looked at me. "To stop this man, I would give up the Senate. And if we have to, we can appeal to Rosa for help."

I got out of the car to avoid answering. I absolutely did not want to owe a paragon any favours.

Egan's home was one of the largest in the community, and all of the lights were on. The front door hung open, and the garage door was open. No cars.

Phoenix got out of the car. "It looks as though nobody's home. As though somebody ran."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "As though somebody warned him."

"One of the Senate," he said. "Of all the..." He sucked in a breath. "Let's take a look around. The door is open. We're concerned citizens."

"Oh, you need legitimate excuses to do what you want now?" I said teasingly.

His smile was brief and heartbreakingly small. "If the Senate want to be so precious about everything, we, too, must at least pretend to take a little care."

We headed inside. Nobody was around.

"I'll check upstairs," Phoenix said. "But there's obviously nobody home, and this man likes to leave nothing behind."

He hadn't exactly left nothing, although the furniture was sparse for a home. I walked along the hallway alone. Music came from a study, so I decided to look there first. There was an old-fashioned record player in the corner. I stopped the music. Whoever had started it playing hadn't left too long ago.

Looking around, I noticed the desk had been cleared hurriedly, but I searched the drawers nonetheless. Nothing. On the fireplace, a couple of photo frames had been knocked down. I picked them up and looked at them all. One was a large photo of a couple of families. And amongst them, under Egan's arm, was our missing shooter.

Phoenix came into the room. "Anything?"

I held up the photo. "This. Egan knows Jennifer Boyle well enough to have her photo in his office."

"Who?"

"The girl who shot Wes with the gun that was used to threaten children at the school."

Phoenix took the photo, stared at the people, then flung it at the wall. The frame shattered. I winced at the sound of the glass cracking.

"He knows what's going on," he said under his breath. "He knows everything."

He swung his arm across the mantelpiece, sweeping everything off.

"Stop," I said, holding his arms before he damaged anything else. "You can't destroy everything!"

"What am I supposed to do?" he said pleadingly. "The shooter's been seen in Spain. Egan could be on a plane right now. He's our only link to it all. He's either in charge, or he knows exactly who is."

"So we follow him."

He dropped his arms and stared at me. "You would do that? Leave everything to follow him?"

I closed the space between us. "I went to Hell for the last slave market. The least I can do is travel to Spain for this one."

The corners of his mouth rose. "I am so very glad that you're on my side."

The way he was staring at me made me embarrassed, so I turned away, pretending to study books on the bookshelf. "I think these are more ledgers," I said, pulling one free. I opened the book. Its pages were brown and faded. "It's really old. I can't even read this. Can you?"

He stood behind me, his arms around me to hold the book steady. "This is a list of debts owed to a family," he murmured. "That's a lot of debt."

"What family? Egan's?"

"In the past, perhaps. These are old debts, but they look as though they've never been paid." He shut the book. "This is evidence. If he's following up on ancient debts, then we may be able to track him down."

He let me go to keep looking on the shelves. We found other notebooks, some too old to read, but one was newer.

"This has Egan's signature on it," Phoenix said, pulling me to his side to look with him. "See this? He's _buying_ debt."

"Maybe the old books don't belong to his family."

"It's possible. He's buying debt for what purpose? Control? Power?"

"He's definitely human, right?" I said.

"I'm certain of it." He frowned. "Supernaturals haven't always been more powerful than humans. The rich families rose above the poor for a reason. Perhaps books like these are partly why."

"This is like a twisted history lesson. What do we do now?"

"Get Shay to organise people to watch over the ports and airports. If Egan's trying to leave, he can't have gone far. The computer is still warm, and the washing machine is barely halfway through a cycle. We'll find him, and we'll learn everything there is to know about what he's been up to."

# 18

We were all frustrated, so when Breslin called two days later to say he had news, I dropped everything and went straight there. I called Phoenix and asked him to meet me at the office if he wasn't busy, and he agreed immediately. He had tried and failed to find out who had warned Egan we were looking for him.

Phoenix beat me there. I found him standing outside Breslin's office, leaning against the wall, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Did you get any sleep?" I asked, pausing in front of him.

"Very little. What does Breslin want?"

"We'll find out. He must have something interesting. If you're too tired, I can call you later. You really need to catch up on your sleep."

"So do you. Let's get this done."

He made to go inside, but I caught hold of his arm and stopped him. "Wait," I said. "I'm worried about you."

His dark-green eyes glittered. "Don't waste your time worrying about me. It's Egan we need to concentrate on."

"And normally, that single-minded focus would come in handy, but you're scaring me a little, Phoenix. You were always intense, but you've cranked it up more than a few notches."

He blinked rapidly. "Don't you want to find the child?"

"Of course I do." I bit my lip. "But I don't want you to—"

He brushed some flyaway hair behind my ear. "I'm fine, Ava. Let's go." He held open the door, and we went inside.

Alex barely looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by books. "He's in the office, waiting for you," he mumbled as we passed.

"You're not the only one lacking in sleep," I said. "Poor Alex. This job was more than he expected."

"Why did you offer him work?"

I shrugged. "Felt sorry for him."

"You always seem so angry with vampire volunteers."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't help them ever."

Breslin's door was open, so we walked straight in.

He took a big gulp of his tea and beckoned us to sit across from him. "I've had an interesting morning," he said. "Declan Egan's life has had a lot of twists and turns."

"How does that help us?" Phoenix said sharply.

Breslin raised his brows.

I nudged Phoenix. "He means is there anything in his life that could help us now."

"I apologise for any abruptness," Phoenix said. "I want to find this man as quickly as possible."

"I feel the same, actually." Breslin took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I've looked into him, his acquaintances, and his family. They go back many years. He boasts of the fact he can trace his roots so far. His family were landowners, very successful, but the bloodline has almost died out a number of times. His father and mother ran a successful enterprise for many years before their deaths. They left everything to Egan's older brother, Kenneth, and he did well with the company, even expanding."

I exchanged a confused look with Phoenix. What did that have to do with anything?

"As it turns out, a bout of bad luck crippled Kenneth. It's a long story, but in the end, he was forced to hand everything over to his younger brother, who had spectacularly good luck from then on. Declan Egan went quiet for a while when the Council ended, but with the new Senate, he has come to the forefront for the first time, even dabbling in politics. His slow build of new connections is working in his favour, but he has a lot of old connections to draw upon, too."

"No offence," I said, "but I still don't get what that has to do with us."

"Ah." He held up a finger. "Kenneth Egan claims to have plenty of information that has a lot to do with us. I spoke to him earlier. He despises his brother, suspects Declan plotted his downfall. It could be the ravings of a man who failed, but he claims to possess certain family secrets that will reveal Declan's true nature."

"Then he can speak with the Senate," Phoenix said.

"Not exactly." Breslin's lips twitched suspiciously. "Kenneth Egan actually has a wish to speak to Callista."

"He doesn't have anything." I restrained a groan. "He just wants to meet the siren!"

"I think he knows _something_ ," Breslin said. "And if there is bad blood between the brothers, who better to dig up Declan's secrets?"

"I'll meet with him," Phoenix said. "And I'll drag Callista by the hair if I have to. We're getting to the bottom of this. Set this up, please. As soon as possible."

So far, all of these little meetings hadn't led us very far, but if Kenneth Egan really did have information, he could help us track down his brother. And with Callista on our side, he could at least be charmed into revealing whatever he knew, no matter how small.

* * *

I walked into the restaurant alone, embarrassed by my appearance. I had barely taken the time to brush my hair, and everyone around me was dressed to the nines. I half-expected the hostess to send me packing, but she was waiting for me. The others were already there.

Callista sat next to Phoenix, leaving me to sit across from her, next to Kenneth. I detected an odd note of tension at the table when I took my seat.

Kenneth's profile displayed a bulbous reddened nose, pockmarked skin, and tired eyes that had likely once been attractive. Kenneth looked like Declan—if the life had been drained out of him. My heart sank. It was likely the man was just a disgruntled relative.

The man took a large gulp from his glass of wine. His nails were spotless and neatly trimmed, but his shirt was frayed at the sleeves. Unlike his brother, he hadn't bothered to fight his receding hairline, and an openness in his demeanour endeared him to me.

"Shall we begin?" He spoke slowly and deliberately, and I wondered how many drinks he'd had before I arrived.

Callista laid her freshly manicured hands on the table and gave Kenneth a glowing smile. "Tell me how I can help you, Kenneth. May I call you Kenneth?"

He made a loud obnoxious sound through his nose that had everyone at nearby tables looking our way. "That crap doesn't work on me. That's why I wanted her here"—he looked at me—"to prove my point."

That was unexpected. "What point is that?"

"I have things, family heirlooms and such, that make it easier to exist in this world. People like her"—he raised his glass dismissively at Callista—"are blights to ordinary people. To me? Nah. Not even a little affected."

Callista looked mightily offended. I struggled really hard not to grin, but by Phoenix's expression, he had caught my smile. I studied my hands until I pulled myself together. I liked Callista well enough, but being in her company was exhausting. She never held back on her natural pull, and I sometimes suspected that was on purpose. I was so used to people fawning over her that I found it kind of comical that the one person we needed her to charm was basically untouchable. I made a mental note to look into the Egan family's heirlooms.

"I am no blight," Callista said haughtily.

Phoenix shot her a meaningful look. "Mr. Egan, you have means to protect yourself," he said. "So what?"

"Our family heirlooms are centuries old," Kenneth persisted. "Created for us by supernaturals as favours, debts"—he looked at me again—"and tithes. My family might be human, but we were powerful once. My grandfather used to tell us stories about how our ancestors were untouchable. I never truly believed everything he said, but my little brother would love nothing more than to go back to those days."

"What else can these heirlooms do?" I wondered aloud.

"Temporary magic, mostly," he said. "If my ancestors needed a spell, it would come in the form of something discreet and manageable. A curse, some form of protection, defensive magic in particular. My ancestors were extremely influential and powerful people."

That explained the odd use of magic back at the flats. "Exactly how powerful are we talking?" I asked.

"Things that might be illegal now were acceptable once," he said. "My ancestors ran things, were heavily involved in the produce of illegal substances, human trafficking, all kinds of things that would have you locked up. But we went straight. Until Declan got ideas into his head." He pointed at Phoenix. "It was your mother, I reckon."

"Excuse me?" the fae prince said.

"He met her, wouldn't stop talking about her. He was a waster, spent his days gambling and reading pointless old books while I worked my rear end off. But after he met her, he changed. We both did. I was hit with a string of bad luck. I let down investors; shareholders lost their confidence. My family's legacy was worthless. And Declan wheedled his way in and took it all. Then he miraculously fixed everything within months."

"So he was a good businessman," Callista said. "What does that prove?"

"He was no businessman," he scoffed. "The idiot could barely count. No." He pointed at her. "Declan used magic. Or favours. He made some kind of deal with that fae woman or someone like her. That's how it works. We all know there's a currency more valuable than coin."

"Why would she deal with him?" I asked. "What could he offer her?"

"Support, I suppose." He took another gulp of his drink. "A return to the days of old. I wanted to be different, to follow in my parents' footsteps. They were clean, kept everything legal, forgot about where we came from. I was okay with that. Declan, though, he wanted to relive the glory days that we weren't even alive for."

"Where did you come from?" I asked.

"We came from money and lies," he said bitterly. "And that's where we've ended up again. Our family built their fortunes on the blood and tears of those less fortunate. Humans, yes, but my ancestors gathered magic like gold. The things I've seen. After my grandfather died, we inherited everything, whether we liked it or not. There's no safe way for a human to dispose of magic, so we hid them."

"Do you still have many of them?" I asked, trying not to sound too interested.

He nudged me, laughing heartily. "This one is curious. I have some items of interest. Declan has more. We weren't allowed to touch them as kids. My parents were afraid we'd set off a curse or something. I forgot about it, let go of the superstitions and stories, but Declan held on." He pointed around the table at each of us in turn. "We earned our money from fights, debts, slaves, deals, gambling, prostitution, magically altered moonshine, and more like it. Anything that was immoral was our bag. They say we made deals with the devil to get our start. _That's_ my family's noble story."

I grew excited. "Are you saying your brother is into that kind of business now? Slaves and such."

"It wouldn't surprise me," he said. "He kept buying buildings, snapping up estates that needed to be refurbished. I told him it was foolish, that they'd never earn money back. It made no business sense." He waved a hand, his lips curling into a sneer. "But Declan knew best. I warned him, but he was insistent, said he had plans. We barely acknowledge each other now, but I reckon he must use those places for orgies and drug dealing and the like." He nudged me again, this time a little harder. "That's what I get for being the boring, responsible one, eh?"

Kenneth was definitely drunk, but that didn't mean he was completely wrong. He finished his drink and waved to the waiter for another.

"What do you think?" I asked Phoenix.

"It's a start," he said. "Kenneth, can you help us find your brother?"

"Find him?" He blinked rapidly. "I don't know. He's well able to keep a low profile. I could make out a list of properties he could be hiding in, but he'll run soon. He always has a backup plan." He belched. "But I'll happily testify against him."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Callista said. "He comes across as a begrudger, a bitter drunk who wants to drag his brother down with him."

"I might be a drunk, I might even be bitter, but I'm not cruel," Kenneth said passionately. "That solicitor who arranged this meeting, what's his name?"

"Breslin," I offered.

"Breslin," he said triumphantly as though he had discovered the name by himself. "He mentioned a child branded like a slave. When I heard that... it's the only reason I'm here." He ran his hands over his face, his anxiety ripe in the air.

"It means something to you," I said.

"It reminded me of things I like to forget." Another swig didn't wash away his distaste—that was plain. "When we were kids, we had a maid for a while. Anyway, Declan had been stuck in those old books all summer long, and the maid brought her daughter to the house because her child-minder let her down or something. I don't remember exactly. My mother said that we'd play with her in the garden, that I'd watch over her." He let out a long shaky breath. "We were young—I remember that—and Declan had the idea to play hide and seek. I was... I was on." He finished another drink. His trembling hands dropped the glass on the table.

I righted the overturned glass. "Doing okay there, Kenneth?"

He shook his head. "They disappeared," he said. "I looked everywhere, in the garden, in the house. And then I remembered the old room where everything... unnatural was kept. It was supposed to be locked up, but I knew Declan had been sneaking in there. So I went looking, and he'd made the place into a little study for himself. A hideaway. Fire burning in the grate even though it was sweltering outside. And the little girl, she screamed so loud, I felt it run right through me."

"Why did she scream?" I asked softly. "What happened, Kenneth?"

"He branded her with a poker from the fire," he said, sounding as though he couldn't quite believe it. "Marked her and said she was his now. I couldn't...the look on his face was just... I knew right then that my brother was capable of evil. He didn't understand what he had done wrong. My parents covered the incident up, and we never saw the maid again, but I always knew, deep down, that there was something wrong with Declan. I tried to help him, but some people can't be helped." He shivered. "My brother could destroy me, but if he's sunk so low, it's time somebody stopped him. It's time I did something. Declan was always a mean boy, a cruel little shit. I hoped he had grown up, that it was all over, but I was obviously wrong."

"I'm so sorry, Kenneth," I said. "But it's not your fault."

He looked at me, his eyes full of pain behind the belligerence. "Isn't it?"

"I'm just not sure that this is enough," Callista said, ignoring my glare. "But there's nothing stopping us from seeking Egan out." She nodded at Kenneth. "Get us a list of places, and we'll search for him. We have questions, if not about him, then about the missing shooter whose bail he paid."

"Jennifer Boyle," I said.

"Ah, his goddaughter." Kenneth nodded. "She idolises him, would do anything for him. I'm not so surprised. She's more like him than I ever was."

"So you know her?"

"Only a little." He shrugged. "Her father worked for Declan, asked him to be a godparent out of respect or something. My brother never really had friends, you see. Not like other people. Lots of acquaintances, but no..." He patted his chest over his heart. "Anyway, I thought he'd changed, because he was genuinely interested in that little girl. Only she started getting into trouble, violence and such. It's now I see that's the only reason he showed any interest in her. She was like him." He looked exhausted, mentally and physically.

"We'll need you to answer more questions," Phoenix said.

"I don't have anything better to do."

"I'll set up a tab," Phoenix said. "For as long as we need you, spend your evenings here, on me."

"Well," Egan said, "I wouldn't want to be rude." He waved at the waiter again.

I wasn't sure if we could rely on him, but he had confirmed things we weren't confident about. Declan Egan had ties to terrible things, and he was on the run for a reason. We would find him. We had to.

# 19

Phoenix set a box of papers in the centre of the table between us and the Senate. "If this isn't enough, then there's something wrong here."

"I've spoken to Declan Egan's brother," Callista said. "The man has a story or two to tell, and I've been able to verify enough of it to believe the rest." She gifted Phoenix with a smile. "Phoenix was right, as usual."

I resisted the urge to puke.

"Egan himself is responsible for many problems that currently affect us," Phoenix said. "And now he's gone."

James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a sheepish look on his face.

"Oh, my God," I blurted. "You're the one who warned him."

Everyone turned to James, who covered his face.

" _James_ ," Mick said harshly.

"All I did was ask him if he was being blackmailed," James protested. "I didn't think he'd run, and I didn't tell him anything else."

"I'm choosing to believe it was a moment of stupidity rather than a purposeful attempt to help him escape," Phoenix said coolly. "But if it happens again..."

I couldn't see Phoenix's face, but James looked terrified.

"We all know James is an idiot," I said hurriedly.

James glared at me, but Phoenix relaxed slightly.

"The only question now is what to do next," Phoenix said. "I'm told the vampire queen is willing to follow our lead on this—however we choose to act."

It was odd for Daimhín to relinquish any bit of power she could grasp.

"I think we're all agreed that we have no choice but to doubt Egan's innocence," Willow said. "How do you all wish to proceed?"

"As quietly as possible," James said.

I shook my head. "It's time to make this public. Egan's face is well-known. Somebody's seen him." I pushed the box toward him. "Look at the evidence if you're still not sure."

"I agree," Layla said. "It's time to bring him in. Secrecy only serves him. We need to make a public announcement as soon as possible."

"We'll need you at the press conference." Callista reached across the table and patted Phoenix's hand. "It's important you put on your best face for this."

I couldn't stop the scornful sound from escaping my lips. "I'm going to get back to the list of properties, see if anything pops out. Good luck with your press conference... thingy."

I left to return to my house, where my friends were waiting. I had spent way too much time on the Senate.

* * *

We watched the press conference that evening in Carl's place. He drank a beer while Dita and Emmett played cards at his feet. Anka and Val discussed Leah's future while Leah pretended not to hear them. Peter sat on the arm of my chair, uncomfortably close in a way that was familiar and cosy at the same time.

"Here it is," Carl said, raising the volume on the television. "The Senate out in all of their finery."

The members of the Senate currently in the city had gathered on a platform, surrounded by Integration Agents for protection. The audience was full of a select group of reporters. Daimhín sat at the very end of the table, her gaze preoccupied. Phoenix sat at the other end, a torn-up piece of paper in front of him.

"Poor Phoenix," Leah said. "He looks so sad."

To me, he looked angry—simmering, really. In the centre of them all was Callista, a friendly smile on her face. It looked as though she would do the talking. That was a relief. Even the Humans First protesters couldn't bring themselves to hate her.

Mick began. "We're here today to appeal to the public." He sounded embarrassed.

"Why is he acting like he doesn't want to be there?" Carl said huffily.

"Hush," Anka scolded. "We'll miss it."

"...linked to a number of incidents," Mick was saying. "Our main focus is on a well-known person of interest. We believe Declan Egan himself is involved in criminal activity, and—"

"Do you mean to tell us a local philanthropist is responsible for a crime wave?" a reporter asked.

"That... is, sadly, exactly what we are telling you today." Mick cleared his voice. "Some of the crimes are inexcusable, but—"

"I'll get this one," Callista said softly. "The evidence speaks for itself. Declan Egan is connected to a number of unpleasant incidents, and certain revelations have come to light recently that implicate him in... more serious matters."

"Such as?" another reporter asked.

Callista smiled, and I could almost feel the room react.

"There she goes," Val said.

"You owe me, Carl," Peter said triumphantly.

"Damnit." Carl pulled a ten euro note out of his pocket. "I didn't think she'd last so long without pulling the winning-smile routine."

I rolled my eyes and tried to concentrate.

"Slavery, for another," Callista said in response to a different question. "We all know how our last government fell, and we can't afford to let anyone away with—"

Phoenix rose to his feet. "We won't tolerate it. Slaves, indentured servants, human and supernatural trafficking. It's not acceptable, and if you are involved, expect the consequences. _I_ will not allow it in my city."

"Aaaaand he lost them," Carl said.

The press conference continued, but we all lost interest. Callista and Mick kept reassuring the public, asking them not to approach Egan because he was dangerous and issuing a dedicated phone line for tips.

"They're fools if they think they're going to find him this way," Peter said. "He's a hero. Even I've heard of him. He's campaigned on behalf of a number of charities, hasn't managed to offend anyone—ever—and is rich enough to pay anyone off. He's like the Pablo Escobar of Dublin. They won't touch him this way."

"He's running slaves," I said impatiently. "Nobody will stand for that."

"Except he's human," Anka said in a worried tone. "Human privilege means he has a better chance of escaping this than Fionnuala did."

That theory unsettled my stomach. It was one of those uncomfortable truths. The world was mostly human, and the rest of us had to cater to humans.

"Not even us privileged humans will accept slavery," Carl said drily.

"You know what I meant," Anka said.

Emmett looked up at his father. "If he's going to get away with it, will he come for us?"

Peter bristled. "If he does, I promise you I'll kill him."

And when Emmett reacted with a relieved smile, a tiny part of me died inside. We hadn't changed much of the world, after all.

* * *

Val, Peter, Carl, and I continued to sort through our copies of the paperwork we had passed on to the Senate.

"Breslin and Alex are still doing their bit," I said as we passed around cookies that Dita had baked for us.

"Shouldn't we let the authorities deal with this now?" Carl asked, stretching.

"Do _you_ trust them to do this properly?" Val asked.

"I'm just tired of working for free." He rubbed his eyes then set to work again. "This feels like running around in a circle."

"Short of visiting every place Egan has set foot upon, we can only hope we figure out something we missed." I shrugged. "His brother has been helpful, but even he's having trouble tracking down Declan. He's trying to decode some kind of weird diary right now, as far as I know. I haven't heard much since the press conference."

"The man's recognisable," Peter said gruffly. "How could he travel around here and not get recognised? I mean, not even an accidental picture of him on someone's personal profile online?"

"Maybe he found a way out of the country before the ports and airports got themselves set up to look for him," Val said.

I rubbed my temples. A serious headache was setting in. "I'm going to make a coffee. Anyone want one?"

They all did. In the kitchen, I tried to clear my head, but there was just so much information to sort through. Maybe that was the point. The details were slowing us down, likely giving Declan Egan time to get away.

My phone buzzed. I stopped pouring coffee long enough to check it. I swore under my breath and headed back into my living room.

"Turn on the telly," I said, stepping over Carl's long legs as he sprawled across the floor, surrounded by paper.

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"Either the answer to our prayers or a fuckton of trouble," I said.

Val had the remote. She switched on the television. Declan Egan appeared on the screen, surrounded by people.

Carl squinted. "Is that outside the Integration offices?"

"Looks like." I wrapped my arms around myself. "Egan's handing himself in."

"And he needs all of those reporters because?" Peter sucked in a breath. " _Ah_."

Declan Egan faced the screen with a concerned look plastered on his face. "I'm here today to voluntarily cooperate with the police and the Senate over the confusing accusations made yesterday evening. I've no idea where this stems from, but I intend to find out and deal with it promptly."

"The Senate said you went into hiding," a reporter shouted. "Where have you really been, Mr. Egan?"

"Recovering, actually." He laid a hand over his chest, a picture of sincerity. "I think most of you know about my heart problems. I've suffered from bouts of illness since childhood. I recently experienced another attack, and I was advised by my personal doctors to recover in a quiet, remote location." He frowned. "I've risked that recovery by coming here, but when a man's integrity is besmirched..." He shrugged. "I hope the public understands. I believed it was for the best to come here myself instead of potentially wasting government resources on vicious rumours."

"What was your reaction to last night's press conference?" a reporter asked.

He looked pained. "My friends accused me of awful crimes. I'm confused and baffled as to these allegations. I've funded charities, public works, after-school projects, even upgraded mental health facilities with my own money. I'll prove the allegations to be falsehoods—don't you worry."

"Crap," I whispered. "I almost believe him, and I _know_ he's a lying piece of shit."

"What if he's telling the truth?" Carl asked. "What if he's being set up, and we've all been tricked into helping?"

"A scapegoat?" Peter rolled up his sleeves. "Don't tell me that now."

"No," Val said quietly, still staring at the screen. "He plays a good game, but he's a little too perfect. He has the right expression, the right gestures, but look at his eyes. Completely dead. Can't fake that."

She was right. Declan had the same shape eyes as his brother, even the same shade of blue, but there was nothing else there. No expression. No emotion. Just a blankness that didn't fit with his act.

"So much for this being the work of an ancient," I said. "If you don't have power and connections, you can just buy them for the right price. And if you look human, everyone will automatically believe the best in you."

* * *

The next morning, I read the early newspaper with disgust. Declan Egan's exclusive interview took up the first nineteen pages in a special edition. He was supposed to have been in custody all night, so he had to have prepared for the interview in advance. So much for spending his time in recovery.

"Not good," I muttered as I skimmed the words. Egan's woe-is-me tale of persecution and mishaps was exactly the kind of drivel that particular paper was known for. I shouldn't have been surprised.

Every shred of evidence against the man was scrutinised by the reporter, only to be scorned by Egan. Theories were discussed then shredded apart. Oh, he admitted to knowing Jennifer Boyle all right, but her boyfriend got the blame for leading her into a life of crime. He was the one who not only gave her a gun, but then somehow retrieved it from the police and handed it over to patients in the hospital where he worked.

And the baby was described as a complete fabrication by an "informant" with a grudge. Of course he had nothing to do with loan sharks and the like. He had so much money that he was already giving it away on a regular basis. Why would he bother with crime? The attack on his character was based on nothing but politics.

I went online to see what the general consensus was on an Irish forum, but Egan's interview had just fed the conspiracy theories. What was the government hiding if they were attacking an obviously innocent man? The situation was going from bad to worse.

I watched the news as the Senate oversaw preparations to enable a force of armed Gardaí to transfer Egan from the Integration offices—where Shay confirmed he had been charged under the Offences Against the State Act—straight to the Special Criminal Court. Egan's legal team promised to make an application to appeal for bail.

The Senate had already warned us to keep out of it, saying that they would handle everything to do with Egan, but a part of me didn't feel comfortable just letting go. Still, if bail was refused—and it almost certainly would be—at least the man would be kept off the streets. And perhaps with Egan locked away, the baby would re-surface again—if she was even in the country.

I made up my mind to go to court for the pre-trial hearing to watch Egan figuratively burn. Most of Dublin had the same idea. I arrived early, but I still struggled through the crowds. There were the usual protesters—claiming human persecution as always—then there were parents whose children had been in the school and people who still believed in the Senate. Curious bystanders watched, some more invested than others, and many IAs held the crowds back from the doors.

"The hearing isn't open to the public," a well-dressed woman said from a hastily assembled podium. "But we won't let that stop us from sharing with you every accusation against an innocent man."

"Here comes the PR," a woman behind me said. "Spin, spin, spin."

The crowds were soon distracted by the very public trial going on outside in the streets. Egan's representatives were out in full force, swaying the public to the "right" point of view.

Plenty of Egan's supporters were in the crowd, but there were just as many against him. Those were the ones firing questions at the woman and her associates, who had an answer for everything.

"Where is this baby?" the woman said, a smirk dancing on her lips. "It's a lie created to tug at your heartstrings. Slavery is a myth. It's a bygone from old days when humans were not in charge. Supernatural creatures were the only ones who owned slaves."

"That's a lie!" a man shouted from the crowd. "My family owned slaves. They owned bloody everything around here. Declan just wants to follow in the family footsteps."

With a groan, I realised Kenneth Egan was drunk and making his way to the podium.

"He's dirt," he cried out. "A user, a blackmailer, a thief, and an evil bastard. I'm embarrassed to call him my brother." He tripped and fell, and the crowd laughed. "Ah, fuck off," he said, not bothering to get up. "You're just a pack of sheep anyway."

That kicked off the name-calling. I pushed my way through the crowd to reach Kenneth before the mob stampeded over his head.

"Excuse me," I said. "He's not a well man." I reached for his arm to help him up, but a rotund man shoved me out of the way.

"A sheep?" he bellowed. "Who are you calling sheep?"

Kenneth laughed too loudly. "Are you the—"

I pressed my hand over Kenneth's mouth and shook my head. "Don't listen to him," I called out loudly. "He's just—"

The man pushed me again, and I fell on top of Kenneth. The crowd surged, and the taste of adrenaline filled my mouth.

"The cheek of you!" A young woman hit the man with her ridiculously oversized handbag. "You don't put your hands on a woman!"

I helped Kenneth to his feet and tried to tow him out of the crowd, but we kept getting pushed back. The crowd was alive with some kind of madness, and I sensed trouble too late. The shover somehow found his way next to us and swung at Kenneth, who tripped in time to duck to strike. The fist hit me in the nose instead.

I wrinkled my face, my nose prickling with pain.

"She's bleeding!" somebody said.

I wiped the back of my hand across my nose. He was right.

The shover was hauled backward. I lost sight of him, but I still had Kenneth. I gripped him tight and pushed him out of harm's way. We made it beyond the worst of the crowds, and I shoved him against a wall. He could barely stand up straight.

"What the hell did you do that for?" I demanded, using my sleeve to wipe my face clean of the blood. "You caused a scrap back there."

"Did you not hear what they were saying about my brother? Making him out to be some kind of saint. I couldn't..." He raised his hands and clenched his fingers into fists. "I couldn't _listen_ anymore."

A window shattered in the distance.

"Damnit," I said. "They're out of control."

"Where's my friend?" Kenneth demanded. "Did he follow us?"

"What friend?"

"The man. Your man back there. Did you not see him? He agreed with me."

I rolled my eyes, wondering if it had been his imagination or an agitator. "Kenneth, I'm going to get you home. Where do you live?"

He waved a hand. "No chance. I'm going to face him when he walks out of those doors. I'm going to make him see me for a change."

"You can't stay here. Somebody else will take a swing at you as soon as you open your mouth."

"I do not care," he said stubbornly, exaggerating his diction.

"You are _super_ annoying." But I couldn't leave him there alone. And I wanted to face Egan, too.

A group of people lurched toward us, so I pulled Kenneth farther back. A couple of marked cars showed up soon after and made an effort at clearing the streets. Some of the group had already moved on, but was still being disruptive.

"Come on," I said. "It should be done by now. The path has cleared a little. It might be easier to keep you safe."

"Who promoted you?" he muttered.

"Just move, Kenneth. If you die now, you won't be able to testify against your brother, will you?"

He bucked up and moved along. We lingered near the courthouse for a while, and finally, the IAs cleared the way enough for the doors to be opened. Phoenix burst through the doors first, looking as though he were in a rage. He looked around, saw me waving, then jogged over.

"Where is he?" he demanded.

"Who?"

"Egan. Bail was set. He won't be detained during this. I got held up. Did you see him pass?"

"He didn't come out this way," I said. "The doors just opened. It got a bit crazy out here. Kind of a mob situation."

"Damnit." Phoenix nodded at Kenneth. "If your brother isn't at his house, then you better have somewhere else for us to look for him. I'm not letting him escape this time."

The corners of Kenneth's mouth rose into a grin. "Looks like I'm on the right team for a change."

# 20

Two days later, I watched the aftermath of what had turned out to be a mini riot after the hearing. Half the city wanted to kill the other half, and nobody appeared to notice Declan Egan's suspicious absence, mostly because his legal team claimed he was too sick to do anything but rest. I doubted he was ever going to show his face again.

I had just turned off the news in disgust when Phoenix arrived. I let him in, and he paced in my hallway, barely able to contain his anger.

"He's gone. While his agitators did their work, he got away. He can't be found, and now it sounds as though we've been persecuting a sick man all along. People are backing him, despite the fact he appears to have jumped bail."

"The truth will come out."

"It will. Because we're going to find him—him or more evidence." He stopped walking and gripped my shoulders. " _We're_ going to fix this."

Anything was better than sitting around waiting. "What's the plan?"

"We're going to break into his properties," he said. "His brother has come up with the address of a house Egan used as a summer home, a kind of escape. It would be a perfect place for him to lay low. We'll start there."

"What if he's left the country?"

His fingers pinched. "He hasn't. We've had everyone watching for him. He can't move without somebody seeing him, so he must be hiding. We have to find him."

"Breaking in doesn't sound like the opposite of persecuting him," I hedged.

"I don't care what it sounds like! Don't you want to find the child?"

My stomach curled up at the words. Of course I did. I was just trying really hard not to mess anything up. And Phoenix was close to breaking. If I didn't go with him, and he found Egan... I didn't want to think about it.

"He skipped bail," he persisted. "He's broken the law. If the system can't touch him, then we must."

"Fine," I said at last. "I'll go." And I hoped I wouldn't regret it.

The full moon was high in the sky as we drove. I called Peter to let him know what I was up to. He had planned on dropping by to look through the paperwork we had again.

"Need a hand?" he asked.

I glanced at Phoenix. "Nah, it should be nothing. I'll let you know if we run into trouble. Just let yourself into my place if you still want to go through everything."

"I might," he said. "There has to be something we've missed."

"Or lots of things," I said wryly. "Talk to you later."

The journey continued in silence.

Finally, to feel as though Phoenix knew I was there, I spoke. "What do we do if we find Egan?"

"Arrest him," he said, but a vein throbbed in his neck.

"He can't get hurt," I warned. "Not by us. The place is already wound up to the last. We can't be the ones to screw it up."

He glanced at me. "Are you trying to say something?"

"I thought I did say it. This has to go... well."

"We're breaking into a man's house," Phoenix said. "That's crossing a line we can't return from."

"So is murder," I said under my breath. I worried because Phoenix rarely lost his cool. It could be bad.

"Kenneth was sure about this place," he said. "Either we find Egan and arrest him, or we knock another place off the list. He's somewhere. We'll find him."

We drove close to the children's home along the way. "Not to tempt fate," I said, "but I wonder why the kids haven't been attacked here."

"No reason to. The school got far more coverage."

"Why would a human want to go to all these lengths?"

"Why would a supernatural?" Phoenix said. "Greed, I assume."

"I just... I feel like I understand why a vampire would do something like this. Spend enough time with Daimhín, and you'll be convinced she doesn't have a soul."

"Is that what you believe?" he asked. "That we don't have souls?"

"I don't know what I believe," I said. "It just makes more sense in my head to think that people do this because they have nothing that keeps them good. It messes up my head when humans do bad things, because they have so many reasons not to. It feels worse somehow."

He made a noncommittal sound. "I think there's something at the core of all of us, Ava, supernatural or not, that we either choose to ignore or nurture. We're all capable of terrible things, whether we choose to believe it or not."

"So what gives us more power? Knowing what we're capable of or refusing to believe it?"

"I wish I knew." He smiled. "You ask a lot of questions. Has anyone ever mentioned that?"

I grinned. "How else will I learn?"

"Exactly," he said under his breath. "Exactly."

Egan's summerhouse was a McMansion on the outskirts of Waterford. The place was empty, and by the cobwebs around the doors, nobody had been there for quite some time.

"He's not here. We could take a look at all of the properties on the list and see if—"

"No," Phoenix said. "We're here now. We might as well take a look inside."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Then wait in the car." He got a wheel brace from the car and went to the glass side door. He smashed it cleanly then stepped inside. I cringed, waiting for an alarm to go off, but nothing happened. That in itself was disturbing, but maybe we were in one of those places where everyone felt safe enough to forgo the occasional noise pollution.

I hesitated for about five seconds before following Phoenix inside. The kitchen was large and spacious—too clean to be lived in. There were a couple of bedrooms, an empty room, two living areas, and a study. In one of the living rooms, the bookshelves were covered in fantasy books, both children and adult.

I scanned the shelves.

"Anything?" Phoenix asked.

"Nothing but a fascination for anything out of the ordinary."

"I'll check out the study then."

I followed him, if only to keep him from destroying anything. The study was an eerily similar copy of the one in Egan's main abode. Phoenix looked through bookcases and glass cabinets, tossing books to the floor in his anger.

I was drawn to the desk, where I felt a tremor of something—something I wanted to touch. The only drawer was locked, but the lock was unusual in appearance and function. There was an empty space as though a coin unlocked it.

I searched the desk and found a circular piece of wood that looked like the right fit. A hole had been carved through the centre. I held up the piece to my eye and squinted, but I saw only darkness.

"Anything in the desk?" Phoenix called from the other side of the room.

"Just about to unlock the drawer," I said, hurriedly pushing the wood into the gap in the drawer.

Then I screamed as a shock of magic blasted me into a bookcase. I tried to move to protect myself, but my limbs felt separate from my body. The shelves collapsed, covering me with books.

Phoenix shouted something. I tried to sit up, to do anything, but I couldn't even blink. Some kind of magical paralysis had taken over my body. I offhandedly thought it would be a perfect addition to the house security services Moses and I had chatted about.

"Ava!" Phoenix pulled the books away and looked at me, aghast. "No," he whispered, looking back at the desk. "He killed her."

Great. The fae prince thought I was dead. I desperately tried to do... anything to show him I was okay, but nothing happened. Phoenix gathered me in his arms, his face wan with panic. He laid me on the sofa and felt for a pulse. The dawning of relief on his face was so comically over the top that I would have laughed if I could do anything.

"Not dead," he said. "Bespelled instead." He stood then hesitated. "If you can hear me, don't panic. I'll fix this."

Don't panic—like he wasn't panicking. I imagined myself rolling my eyes, since I couldn't actually do that. Phoenix dashed around the room. I couldn't see him anymore.

He was worrying for nothing anyway. Given enough time, there was always a way past magic. I tried to push against it, but it was heavy, a different kind of magic than I had ever experienced before. It wasn't just restraining my body, but my ability to fight at all. I attempted to reach out with my other senses, but that accomplished nothing, bar a serious headache. Scared people would pay _so_ much money for that kind of security system.

I heard Phoenix open a drawer, unfold something papery, and release an exclamation of satisfaction. He called somebody then.

"You wanted a second chance," he said. "Be ready." He hung up and came to me. "I can't find anything here," he said. "And I have something I must do." He looked away. "But I can't leave her here." Frowning, he lifted me into his arms. "I'll take you as far as the children's home. Alanii will take care of you."

He carefully carried me out to the car, where he left me in the backseat. In the car, the drive toward home took an age. It was only a couple of hours, but every minute that passed increased the strain in Phoenix's demeanour. My nose itched something terrible, and Phoenix kept muttering under his breath. His rapid descent into chaos was unsettling, and I couldn't do a thing to calm him. If anything, my corpse-like presence only tightened his nerves.

He brought me to the children's home and briefly explained things to Alanii. "I'll get Ari," she said, hurrying out of the room.

"I must leave." He laid his jacket over me. "I know where Egan is, and I'm going to make him confess." He brushed the hair off my face. "I swore to protect my children," he said, a hint of panic in his voice. "There can be no mistakes this time, no taking things for granted. I won't let history repeat itself. I _will_ end this once and for all."

Then he was gone. I had no choice but to wait until Alanii returned with Noah and Ari. "Can you help her?" she asked. "Phoenix thinks it's some kind of spell."

"I don't know," Ari said. "I'm not sure I know what to do."

"Try," Noah said sharply. "Ari, you have to stop acting like this."

She folded her arms across her chest. "You know what magic is like. I could accidentally kill her. What then?"

"She can't stay like this forever," Alanii said. "Try to at least figure out what's wrong with her."

With a scowl, Ari knelt next to me and touched my arm. "It's... sort of like she's suffocating in magic."

"Can you fix it?" Noah asked.

"I think so," she said softly, but I thought I heard a note of excitement in her words. Her hands hovered above my body, and she inhaled deeply. "Whoa," she whispered. "There's so much of it. How did they do this?"

"Not so important right now," Noah barked.

"Take it easy," Alanii said. "Can you help her, Ari? It's important."

"I can try to... take it from her. I'm not sure if it'll work, but I'll try." She exhaled loudly then squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers twitching.

I felt the magic being pulled away from my skin. There was so much of it, though, so many layers being peeled away. The farther down, the closer to my skin it clung. The process began to hurt, even though I couldn't feel my limbs. It hurt somewhere else, beyond my body.

Ari kept going, and I thought she would suck the life out of me, too, because she threw her head back and gasped, and her eyes turned golden for the briefest instant. The others appeared not to notice, while I had no choice but to look at her. Not for the first time, I considered the fact that Ari wasn't like other witches. But whatever she was doing was slowly working.

Finally, with the heaviest weight of magic finally off me, I was able to use my own abilities to shrug off the last of the magic. I concentrated on moving my fingers and toes.

"She's moving," Alanii said.

I tested my limbs, but it was too soon.

"There's something old," Ari said. "It sort of joined with the new magic and made it more powerful."

"She thought she was cursed," Noah said. "Maybe she really was."

"It's over now." Ari shrugged nonchalantly. "She'll be back to her annoying self soon enough."

After a while, I was able to blink and move my mouth. Talking and sitting up took longer. I felt groggy from the aftereffects of the magic. I felt it touch me still, but it no longer dulled my extra senses.

"How are you feeling?" Alanii asked when I was able to sit up unaided.

"Tired," I said. "Could you call Peter and ask him to come get me? I don't think I have the energy for a walk home right now."

"I'll get you a cup of tea, too," Alanii said. "You two, watch her and call me if anything else happens."

As soon as she left the room, I turned to Ari. "You need to find Phoenix. Right now."

# 21

"What am I, your personal assistant?" Ari folded her arms across her chest again. "Just call him."

"He's not going to answer." I pressed my fingertips against my temples, struggling with the urge to wipe that sneer off her face. "This is serious, Ari. He's... upset. You've heard the news, right? About Declan Egan."

"Yeah," Noah said. "The sleazy human is the slave trader, and nobody wants to believe it. None of us count as human to them because we're different."

"Most people are idiots," Ari said. "I bet they're jealous of us."

"Is that why Phoenix is upset?" Noah asked. "Because nobody believes you?"

"It's more than that," I said. "He had photos and information on lots of people. Me, my friends, and even Phoenix's children. Phoenix has already lost them once. He's not going to risk it again." I made to get up then thought better of it. "We went looking for Egan tonight, and that's how I ended up here. Phoenix is losing his grip on things because he's worried. This reminds him of everything he went through with his own mother, and he's terrified he's going to let everyone down. We have to stop him before he does something to Egan."

"So what's the problem?" Ari said. "Phoenix will deal with him, and the world will be better off. Why should we help out that creep instead of Phoenix?"

"That creep's human, and if Phoenix takes care of him, people will lose their minds. There's already been too much trouble. It's clear Egan's a scumbag, but as Noah said, nobody wants to believe it. Look what happened at your school, how easy it was for the papers to misdirect the blame. Now imagine if all of the humans turned against us. We're way outnumbered, and there are rules, and—"

"Rules," Ari scoffed. "Nobody has to find out who killed this man."

"Even if somebody else did it, Phoenix could get the blame. And if he finds Egan tonight, there's a good chance he'll forget about the rules himself. People will start thinking he's like his mother and want to get rid of him. Besides, it's not so easy to kill a human, Ari. It matters when they can't fight back the way a vampire might. Taking a life means something."

Her gaze turned hard. "How many lives have _you_ taken?"

" _Ari_ ," Noah said.

"Too many." I thought of them, too, sometimes and wondered if any of the faceless enemies I'd fought had families who missed them. Thinking of them as monsters was so much easier. "If Phoenix kills a human tonight, he'll regret it tomorrow. We can't let that sit on his shoulders when he's not thinking clearly. We have to stop him to help Phoenix, not Egan."

Noah looked at Ari. "Do it. She's right. It could kick off another civil war. We'll be the ones who lose out if Phoenix gets into trouble. You said it yourself—he's the only one in charge who actually cares what happens to us."

Ari considered this. "How will I find him? It took those witches a week to track down the baby."

"You know Phoenix," I said. "And you just sucked a truckload of magic out of me. Plus, I'm a conduit for power. You can use me to find him. He gave you books, right? Whatever it takes, let's do this. Just hurry."

"You'd let me take from you?" She tried her best not to sound interested but failed miserably.

"For this, yes," I said. "I need to catch up to Phoenix before it's too late."

"There _are_ scrying spells in the books Phoenix gave me," she said slowly. She took his jacket from the sofa. "With this, I could probably do it, but I've no idea how long it will take."

"Just find him. Before Alanii comes back and notices."

"I'll distract her," Noah said. "Ari... play nice."

Ari made a face then left to prepare.

"Am I crazy to trust that girl with this?" I asked.

Noah shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're desperate, right?" He looked at me questioningly. "Why do they have to hate us? When people found out Nate and I worked at the garage, they picketed the place. They don't even know us, but they decided to hate us because of what happened to us. We didn't choose to be born different, and we definitely didn't choose to be taken from our families, either, so why do they blame us?"

"They're scared." I patted his arm. "They don't understand why their world has to change to accommodate us. They liked it better when our problems were hidden from them. There will always be people who don't want us around, but someday, _human_ won't mean 'normal' or even 'better than.' Someday, we'll find a way to fit together."

"And people like me? Supernaturals call me a human. Humans call me a mistake. How do I fit in?"

"By proving you're more than they make of you," I said firmly. "And you're already doing that. Anyone can spout hate. It's a lot harder to live like a good person. Only you can choose how you react to the nonsense that's going on around town lately. You're the one who has to decide you're better than anything they say."

"But they—"

"Do you respect them?" I asked. "Do you admire them or want to be like any of them someday?"

He made a face. "No way."

"Then their words don't matter anyway. Most people in this country can't imagine the kind of life you've had. If anyone doesn't respect the fact that you're trying to move on from that past and make a better life, then they're not worth listening to. You're a good kid, Noah. Don't let their hate define you."

Ari returned with a spell book, a bowl of water, a map, and a basket of candles. She spread out the map on a table, using the candles to hold down the corners. She placed the bowl of water on top of the map and lit the candles.

"What does that do?" I asked.

"Mind your own business," she said sharply. She put on the jacket—I could have sworn she sniffed it first—knelt in front of the map, and chanted from a page in the book. As she recited, she dipped her finger in and out of the water and let it drip onto the map. She sprinkled some on me then swiped her thumb across my forehead.

"What... oh." I felt her magic probing at me, searching me. She curled invisible fingers around me and stole the best parts of me. She kept looking at the water, dipping her fingers in, and chanting constantly.

My strength began to drain. I had to lean back in my chair, unable to sit up straight.

"Ari, stop," Noah said. "She looks sick."

"I don't have it yet," Ari said without missing a beat in her chant.

"Keep going," I said. "I'm good. Just find him."

Sweat trickled down my temples, and I laid my head on the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling, black spots screwing with my vision.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked.

My mouth was dry, my limbs were shaky, and my head felt as though it might roll off my shoulders at any moment, but I wasn't running on empty yet.

"I'm fine," I said hoarsely.

"Maybe I should get you something to eat or—"

"No!" Ari shouted. "Get _out_ , Noah."

"I'm staying," he said firmly.

I closed my eyes and concentrated. Ari's magic felt cold and unnatural, like slimy hands roughly touching my body. My insides felt hollow from her touch, and I wasn't sure how long I could keep going. I panicked, my heart racing as a rush of adrenaline ran through me. I opened my eyes and looked at my hands. They were grey and pallid. My veins bulged as though my skin had been pulled taut by an unseen force.

"I don't..." I murmured. "I..." But the encroaching darkness surrounded me before I could figure out what I wanted to say.

* * *

When I woke, Peter and Alanii were standing over me. "Oh," I said.

"Are you all right?" Alanii said. "The kids said you were tired and passed out."

"Yeah, well, that curse was heavy," I said. "Alanii, I'd take that cup of tea now. A couple of sugars, please."

She smiled. "I'll make a fresh cup."

I looked for the teenagers as soon as she left. Noah and Ari were sitting in the corner. He looked relieved. She looked just as pissed off as usual.

"Are you all right?" Noah asked. "I thought you died for a minute there."

I sat up then clutched my head as pain shot through my skull. "I'm okay," I said after a moment. "Just a little shaky. Did you find him?"

"I did," Ari said. "I have a connection to him now. I can see where he's going, but to keep it up, I'll have to maintain a connection to you, too."

"Do it then," I said. "I'll follow him."

"What's going on?" Peter asked as I slowly got to my feet.

"Phoenix is hunting down Egan. We have to stop him before he does something he regrets."

"I can't say I'd be sorry if Egan came to harm," Peter said.

"It can't happen like that," I warned. "He needs to go to trial. And I need a lift. Can you help me?"

"Yeah, I'll do it," he said.

Ari stood. "I'll have to keep in touch with you. I can see him and follow his path, but I don't know where he'll end up."

"I'll go with them." Noah nodded at me. "I can help follow Ari's directions, and you might need me if things go bad."

I hesitated. I wasn't sure I wanted to be responsible for Noah if anything really did go wrong.

"He's strong," Peter said. "If Phoenix gets in a fight, we'll need a hand. You're too weak to be much use right now."

"Go then," Ari said. "I'll confuse Alanii." She sneered. "It won't be hard."

We snuck Noah out of the children's home. Alanii was going to hate me if I kept tricking her, but I didn't have time to wait for permission that might not come. We didn't have time to go pick up Val, either. We had to catch up to Phoenix first.

We drove for two hours. Noah kept Ari on the phone for directions. I napped in the backseat, beyond exhausted. Ari's power was dangerous and strong. I wondered if she had drained me out of necessity or just to teach me a lesson. I was too tired to truly care.

Finally, we came to a farm in Kilkenny.

"I don't think this place was on the list," I said.

"Think we took a wrong turn?" Peter asked.

"Nah, that's Phoenix's car outside."

All of the lights were on in the building, which was massive. Figures hurried past the upstairs windows.

"Come on," I said. "Noah, stay behind, just in case."

"No way," he said. "I'm going with you, remember?"

"Just... be careful."

The three of us got out of the car and kept in the shadows until we reached the front door, which had been destroyed completely. Wooden shards lay all over. With a heavy sense of foreboding, I stepped inside then froze as something blocked me from going any farther.

Great. More magic.

# 22

Peter and Noah pressed against me before I could warn them not to come inside. We were pinned together, struggling to move. We couldn't even back up.

"I can't move," Noah said.

"Don't panic. And stop pushing. You're getting nowhere but tighter against my back."

"What the hell is this?" Peter gasped.

" _Magic_." I shoved, but I kept coming up against resistance. "I'm getting really sick of this human using magic all of the time."

"It was me," a soft female voice said.

I looked to the stairs. A young woman stood there, looking nervous. Her light-brown hair hung past her shoulders in messy waves. She wore no makeup or decoration, bar a brooch pinned at the collar of her old-fashioned tea dress.

"You're a witch," I said accusingly.

"Am I?" She fidgeted with her sleeves. "I think... I think they're going to kill him. Are you here to stop that?"

"Nobody has to die tonight," I said. "Enough people have died."

"You're the one." She blinked a couple of times. "You were supposed to give her a different life. They said you wouldn't fail, but she came back. I wanted so bad for her not to come back, but he brought her home. The favour didn't cost him much, and she ended up back here."

"Who? The baby? Are you the mother?" I asked. "Did _you_ leave her on my doorstep?"

"Not I. A friend with no face and no voice. But many voices said you were the one. Were they wrong?"

I shivered. The way she spoke was creeping me out. "Just stop this magical crap, and we can talk about it. I tried to protect her, but somebody came and kidnapped her. They used magic."

"It's true," Noah said. "I saw... something."

"He likes magic. It makes everything safe."

The woman raised a hand, and the magic lifted enough for the three of us to separate from the uncomfortable position. I took two steps and found myself entwined again.

"This is getting really annoying," Peter snapped.

"Are you Lavinia?" I said as the woman turned away.

She hesitated then turned back to look at me. "Yes," she said. "Did you find... Tomas left clues, always clues, but nobody noticed. Did you find one?"

"Maybe." I had no idea what she was on about. "Where's the baby?"

"Downstairs, with Tomas," she said solemnly. "Safe. Protected from the other magic."

"What other magic?" Peter asked.

She pointed at the stairs. "Up there. My magic doesn't harm. _Hers_ does."

"Who's up there?" I said, suddenly scared. "Who's being hurt?"

She made a movement with her fingers. "Go see. But the barrier up there is not mine." She fled, but the magic stopped blocking us.

"I have to go see what's happening," I said. "Noah, go after her. See if you can get people out of here. Call Shay for help. And if she gets pointy with her magic, get out of here."

"I'm with you," Peter said.

I ran upstairs, closely followed by Peter. I half-expected to come upon a dead body. The hallway was empty. I sent out my other senses as we ran. Three people were upstairs—many more were downstairs. The barrier kept us out of the rooms we passed until we reached one at the end. It was a massive bedroom, mostly empty of furniture.

I ran into the room and immediately got stuck. _Again_.

Declan Egan laughed from where he relaxed on the bed. "Sticky, _sticky_ traps."

"Phoenix!"

"You shouldn't have come here," the fae prince said without looking at me.

Phoenix was close to the bed, his arms outstretched as though he were almost free. Clementine was on the other side, rapidly murmuring what must have been a counterspell to the magic trapping him.

"She's almost done," Phoenix said. "What will you do then, Egan?"

"Exactly as I wish," the human said. His charismatic persona was gone, and a manic look had replaced it. "You think I care what you do to me? My plans are worth more than—"

"You're done," I said, trying to sound confident. "It's over. The world knows what you are."

"What I am?" he sneered. "You don't know what I am, and _they_ don't know what I will be." He laughed at Phoenix. "You're not exactly your mother's son, are you? Or are you angry because I took what you wanted?"

"I will never be like you," Phoenix said.

"More's the pity." Egan sat up. "That daughter of yours will be a nice addition to my collection. She's been spending too much time on the beach these last few weeks. You should warn her to stay inside more often. I wouldn't like her to ruin that delicate complexion."

Phoenix let out a roar of anger just as Clementine's voice rose into a triumphant shout. We were free.

Phoenix lunged at Egan, fell back at another barrier, then pulled out the whip, a fae weapon that electrified with its touch. I stopped moving just in fear of the memory of its bite. It hurt more than anything else I had ever experienced. It was living pain, the kind that never died, not even in my dreams.

"Phoenix, don't," I whispered, feeling faint. Ari had taken too much from me. I couldn't smother my fear without any strength. "Please don't."

He lashed at Egan, whose body rocked and twisted on the bed. The human's face grew taut and red as he struggled against the pain rushing through his body. But a bizarre smile lit up his expression, even while he looked agonised.

"Thank you!" he screamed. "You've saved me precious time!"

"Madman," Phoenix snarled. "Are you the only one controlling this? Branding children and spying." He pointed in my direction. "Sending fools to shoot those getting in your way!" His voice rose as though he were working himself up into a frenzy.

"Stop it!" I cried.

"Don't get in the way," Egan shouted hoarsely. "We can't let him kill you, too. You're far too useful, dear."

I almost felt the next lick of the whip myself, flinching as Phoenix struck again. I couldn't have outlasted that pain, and I feared the life would leave Egan in front of my eyes. Phoenix's gaze was dark and malevolent, focused only on harming the man he believed was a threat to his children.

I couldn't let Phoenix turn into that person. I pushed away my own fear and ran to him. If I could at least grapple him, then perhaps Egan could run. Peter could get him away long enough for me to calm Phoenix down. If I could just—

"Stop!" Clementine's word rooted me to the spot.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, unable to move all over again.

I heard footsteps at the door. Noah was there with Lavinia, but they couldn't come in.

"I made a deal with him," Clementine said. "I won't let you ruin it for me. I can't afford it."

"Phoenix, don't!" I cried. "He's not worth it!"

"Let him," Peter said from behind me, a darkness in his voice I hadn't heard in a long time. "Egan deserves everything he gets."

"What are you talking about?" I said. "This could kick off something we can't stop!"

"You don't get it," he said. I could barely hear him over Egan's fresh screams. "My son was in that slave market. Egan didn't begin this today or this year. He was working with Fionnuala for years to get to this point. For all we know, he was responsible for taking our children from us. Let him burn. He's a monster."

I called Phoenix again, and this time, he looked at me. "You know this isn't the way."

Clementine spoke another word, and my mouth shut. I couldn't move or talk, and Phoenix was about to torture a human to death and provoke a war we couldn't win.

They were all against me, all fixed on doing something terrible in an attempt to erase something worse. Life didn't work that way. We couldn't wipe away the past, no matter how hard we tried..

Egan's agonised howls filled the air as the whip lashed against his skin again. Had I screamed that way? Phoenix had lost all sense of himself, and he almost looked as though he were enjoying himself. I wondered if we could ever get him back.

Noah murmured something, but it was lost under the screaming. Then I heard Lavinia's voice in my head as though she were right next to me—just one word.

"Speak."

I moved, gasped, and breathed all at once. My legs were still stuck, but I could talk. "Phoenix!" I screamed. "Look at me! _Please_."

He did, sweat gleaming on his face. He was wild and too far gone to respond, but something I knew well flickered in his eyes. I could get through to him. I had to. I heard Clementine's furious attempt at another spell, and I knew I needed to be quick. I wasn't sure why Lavinia had helped me, but I had to take advantage.

"Phoenix, this isn't the way," I said. "Torture doesn't make us better than him. We have to do things right. We aren't in a war anymore. The violence has to end sometime. And this man is less than nothing, but by hurting him, we just add fuel to the fire. The humans who hate us will grow in number, and the supernaturals will rise up against them in return. We have to be the ones who stop this, who stop the circle of violence."

"He deserves it," he panted, but some of the darkness had seeped from his tone.

"He deserves to be punished," I said. "But not like this. If you kill him, you'll give him exactly what he and people like him want—an excuse to do harm. Let him face justice in court. Let the world see who he really is. Show the humans that we're capable of peace and mercy. But Phoenix, most of all, don't let him ruin you. Look at yourself. Look at what you'll let yourself become. Don't give him that power. You said... you said yourself that we're all capable of darkness, but it's our choice that matters. Please don't choose this, Phoenix. Not _this_."

Phoenix looked at the writhing man on the bed, at the people trapped in the room, and at Lavinia, who was depending on us to save her and her child. His gaze returned to me, and the anger began to leech from him as though it were a fading colour in his cheeks. He took a step away from the bed, regret plastered all over his face.

"You're just like your mother, after all," Egan taunted.

Phoenix's grip on the whip tightened, then he dropped it. It fell to the ground with a loud bang that made me flinch.

"Do you really think I'll let you judge me?" Egan scoffed, his nose bloody from his trauma. "I've been working toward this my entire life, and I'll get what I deserve, get everything I want." He slipped his hand under the pillow and pulled out a jewelled dagger.

"No!" I shouted, but I couldn't reach him.

Egan uttered a word I didn't recognise then stabbed himself in the heart. He fell back on the pillow with a permanent smile etched on his face. He _welcomed_ death. But why?

# 23

"He never wanted to be human," Lavinia said softly. The magic in the room released us all.

"He's dead," Clementine said. "It's done, Phoenix."

"Good riddance," Peter said.

I shot him a sharp look, and he looked away.

Phoenix sank to his knees, the epitome of a broken man. I doubted any possible outcome could have made him feel any less destroyed.

"We need to call somebody," Noah said. He sounded calmer than anyone else did. I couldn't help but wonder about the things he had seen in his life that _this_ was no big deal.

"We have to do something," I said. "He killed himself, but..." I looked at the others. "That's all that happened, right? All of you, go downstairs and figure out who needs help. Lavinia will help with that, won't you?"

The young woman nodded, looking more curious than upset. She bade him follow her downstairs. He shot me one last glance before leaving with her.

"Great," I said. "Peter, figure out how many people are here, then call Shay and get him here."

"What should I tell him?" Peter asked.

I glanced at Phoenix and bit my lip. He hadn't moved. "Tell him we need help. We can get our stories straight before anyone arrives. I just... go on. We'll follow in a few minutes."

Clementine nodded. "Right. We have to take care of things." She stumbled out of the room as though shell-shocked.

Peter paused at the door. "I hope you know what you're doing, Ava."

"I just want to help," I said firmly. "Don't you? I mean, now that he's dead."

His jaw clenched. "I'm not sorry he's dead."

"No matter the cost?"

He gave me a pitying look. "You know the world is better off without the likes of that man. And I know I'll sleep better tonight." He left the room.

I closed the door behind him and moved to Phoenix's side.

I knelt in front of him when he didn't look at me. "Phoenix," I said softly, meeting his pained gaze.

"He wanted to die," he said. "Did you see that? He wanted us to kill him, and when we didn't, he did it himself. Why? What gift does death hold for him?"

"I've no idea," I said. "Let's hope nothing." But it niggled at me. We had come across wendigos, humans who ate the organs of their own families in exchange for the power from a demon. I had an awful feeling that Egan hadn't planned on his life ending with a permanent death.

"I failed," Phoenix said, his voice cracking with remorse. "I got nothing out of him, and now he's gone. The world will believe... what it wants to believe, and now all of this has been for nothing."

"The baby's here," I said. "We found her. And other slaves, too. They're ready to talk, to let the world know what's happened to them. And we're going to make the world listen. It hasn't been for nothing. We've changed these people's lives."

"And if he didn't work alone?" he said. "If there's more like him out there?"

"Every inch of his life will be looked into. Every contact, every deal, every favour, every debt. It might take months, but if he had a boss or a business partner, we'll find them."

"He killed himself," he said. "He took his own life to avoid justice. How can this be an ending?" He glanced at the body and shuddered. "Oh, what have I done?"

"You did the best you could in the moment," I said. "Phoenix, look at me. You aren't to blame for the things that man did. Neither am I, and neither are his victims. He chose his path, and he followed it through."

"I tortured him," he said. "I caused him pain to get what I want, and I didn't feel an ounce of regret." He stared at his hands. "Muscle memory, Ava. These hands were well-used to harming others. What did I do in the past I forgot?"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "You can't be punished for the things you might have done."

"And that man?" He held his head up high and met my gaze. "If you came here tonight, and he couldn't recall any of these deeds, would you proclaim him as innocent?"

"That's different."

"How is it different?" He gripped my arm. "How could it be different?"

I inched closer to him. "Because I know you. I know that the good outweighs the bad. You can't let the past punish you. You told me that. Whatever happened to you in the time you lost is over. It's done. Stop letting it control you now. You need to move on."

He dropped his hand. "You don't understand. You didn't see... a little town in Italy tell their children that a demon will come for them if they're bad. They're talking about _me_ , Ava. They call me a devil and other things, and most barely remember the truth, but I was there, and they saw my true face. I destroyed in my anger. I am capable of terrible things."

"Everyone is, remember? We all have the capacity inside us. We talked about this. I don't care what some kids in Italy think of you. I know you. You're the only person with power in the country right now who actually cares about people, even though it doesn't benefit you. There is so much more good in you than anything else. You let this problem touch you because you care. I've seen evil. It's not you."

He reached out and touched my cheek. "You're a good friend to me, Ava. I lost control, and you made me remember what was at stake." He glanced at the bed again. "But it was never going to be enough."

A polite knock at the door drew our attention. Lavinia peeked her head in. "Tomas made tea," she said. "That's what people do." She nodded at Phoenix. "The witch woman wants to speak to you. She makes the air shimmer in the worst way."

I helped Phoenix to his feet. "Go on. Talk to the witch. And tell her to quit using magic on me. It really pisses me off."

He managed a small smile. I hesitated at the bed while he left the room. Lavinia came to my side and gazed at Egan emotionlessly.

"Death makes him look like nothing. As though there was never anything there." Her fingers danced across the bedspread, inches away from where the blood had soaked through. "Should _I_ apologise for using magic?"

"Only if you're sorry and you aren't planning on doing it again." I moved her hands away from the bed. "Why did you help me?" I asked. "Surely you hated him."

"I don't care about him," she said. "And the boy with the hurt heart was a slave once. He showed me his brand downstairs. Not like ours, but it means the same thing, I think. When he told me to trust you, I believed him. Sometimes, I can see a lie. He has no lies; he's just waiting for the right questions."

My head hurt. "I'm sorry I didn't do a better job with the baby."

"Maybe this is how it was supposed to end."

I stared at Egan's body, seeking out signs of life. "He is really dead, right? It's not some magic trick."

She nodded. "The soul is already gone, and the body remains useless. But he was never at peace in life. I doubt death will fit him any better."

"Should I be worried?"

"I believe it takes a terminally long time to become a demon."

"That's what he wanted?" I turned to gape at her. "He wanted... to go to Hell?"

"He liked stories," she said. "Always stories about becoming a hero. But he preferred the darker creatures. He envied us, my mother said."

"Is she here?"

She shook her head. "She died. She used to tell me our blood was cursed. That we were fated to always be slaves. I saw the brand on the baby. It didn't look like it belonged, and I thought that maybe it wouldn't be true for her. But then she came back to me."

"What's the baby's name?"

"Robin," she said. "After my mother." She sighed as she looked down at the body. "When I was a child, I thought he was my father. I thought all children lived in rooms under the ground. I thought all children had magic. He used to read me stories, try to teach me magic. Mother made me careful. In secret, I called him father until I began to bleed, and Mother couldn't hide it anymore. She liked to pretend, but sometimes, it wasn't enough."

I had an eerie feeling that if Lucia talked, she would sound exactly like Lavinia. They were distant cousins, after all.

"I stopped calling him Father when he started to come into my room at night. Mother gave me special tea to drink every morning, but she died last year, and I forgot."

"Is Robin his child?" I asked, trying not to outwardly react too strongly even though I felt horrified.

"No. He brought a man with great magic to me. He wanted Robin to be powerful. Every generation, we grow stronger, Mother said. And the man who came, his brands were all over his body because he had tried to escape so many times. He said that people don't have to be slaves, that we just had to become strong enough to fight back. His words and hands were nice and quiet, and he promised to send someone to help when he finally escaped for good. But I don't want to be powerful. I just want to be free."

"You're free now," I said firmly.

"But where do I go? How do I live? Some of the others are scared."

"Have you seen many slaves then?"

"They come and go. Tomas and I are the only ones who stay." She smiled brightly, but it never reached her eyes. "Would you care for some tea?"

* * *

Downstairs, Clementine and Peter were sitting around a small wooden table with a short, curly-haired man who wore oversized glasses that made him look like a child in a man's suit.

"This is Tomas," Lavinia said. "He knows everything."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Everything?"

"I keep the deals organised." Tomas blinked. "I'm trusted."

"So you know where Egan kept his records," Peter said. "We could probably use those."

"Of course." Tomas pointed at his forehead. "In here."

I stifled a groan then caught sight of Phoenix in the corner, staring at a bassinet. I moved to his side and peered at the baby I thought I'd lost. An ache in my chest eased; the worry about her finally ended. I touched her hand, sighing as her little fingers curled around mine. It wasn't quite like the peace I felt when I'd helped a lost soul, but it was something just as good.

"Nice to see you again, Noodle," I whispered.

"If I had put her first, perhaps things would have ended differently," Phoenix said under his breath.

I cupped his cheek. "And maybe it wouldn't. She's safe, and Egan is done. We've gotten what we wanted from this."

His lips seemed to twist. "I have a couple of photos, but I don't remember holding my newborn children. I wonder if they looked like her." He heaved a sigh. "And now they're gone again."

"But this time, nobody can take your memories of them," I said. "And they will come back."

"I apologise," he said. "But I think I want to be alone."

I kissed his cheek then returned to the table, where Peter was staring at me with expressionless eyes.

I cleared my throat. "How many other people are in the building?"

"About two dozen," he said. "And few of them speak English, so I think we should let someone more experienced deal with them in case they get spooked."

"Fair enough." His gaze made me feel guilty, and I chewed the inside of my mouth. "Where's Noah?"

"Outside, watching for help to arrive." He stretched out, looking far more relaxed than I felt. "Might be a while. We shouldn't touch the body—you know, _anymore_ —until then."

Clementine shot up from her seat and left the room as though stung. I glanced at Lavinia, but she was busying herself making more tea. I followed Clementine outside and found her in the hallway.

"Happy?" I asked.

She shook her head. "You don't know me. You've no idea the things people have to do to survive. You're one of the protected bloody chosen ones."

"Chosen ones?" I scoffed. "Overstating matters just a tad, witch."

"So you weren't protected at birth and through childhood?" she snapped. "You don't currently live in a safe home protected by magic I can't even begin to figure out?"

"Maybe you're just not that good a witch." I bristled at the accusatory tone, though. Just because I had been protected from some things didn't mean my entire life had been unicorns and rainbows.

"I'm a good witch," she said. "And you have no right to judge anyone when you don't have to demean yourself just to survive."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"Look." She gritted her teeth. "I'm not happy about people dying, but I'm happy I was able to keep my end of a deal. I'm happy I'm alive. And I don't care what a little upstart like you thinks about that." She nodded at the kitchen door. "I think we both know you've muddied the waters to get ahead yourself." She stormed off.

Peter came out of the kitchen and caught sight of me standing in the hallway, my cheeks still hot.

"Everything all right?" he asked. "I heard raised voices."

"Don't you start." I folded my arms across my chest. "You could have backed me up, Peter."

"Why?" He slouched against the opposite wall, holding my gaze. "Egan didn't deserve to live."

"But we have to stop being the people who decide who gets to live!" I pointed a finger at him. "Especially if Phoenix is the one who gets blamed for the whole mess."

"You think I care what happens to _him_? I'm just waiting for the day you finally see right through him."

"Peter," I said in a softer tone, "you might not like him very much, but we both know you're not that kind of person. You didn't act like that upstairs because you hoped it would get Phoenix in trouble."

He grinned, but his eyes were creased with worry. "Would have been a bonus, though." He shrugged. "I don't care, Ava. All I know is that I can go home and tell my son that the bad man is dead and won't be coming for him. He had photos of all of us, records of our comings and goings, and we would have all been in danger as long as he was drawing breath."

"He was just a human," I whispered. "We could have fixed this in another way."

"No," he said. "We couldn't. Because it doesn't matter how we're born if we use curses and magical tricks and guns to get ahead. Tomas wasn't kidding about keeping everything in his head. He knows some shady shit about Egan. I don't know what the end game was for him, but it couldn't have been pretty."

I so very badly wanted to go home and curl up in bed.

"Ava," he said. "I know you want the world to be normal, and for everyone to treat each other equally, but it's just not bound to happen in our lifetime."

"So we should just give up?"

He held up his hands. "I'm not saying that. But you must see it for yourself. We've started things, but it'll be our great-grandchildren or something who even consider being able to finish it. The world isn't ready to fit your version of perfect yet. Stop... stressing yourself about it."

He went back into the kitchen.

I waited a while longer, trying to figure out why Peter's words made so much sense to me, and yet I still didn't regret my part in the scene upstairs. His version of events felt like giving up too much, as though we should just accept the way things were instead of trying to change them. Maybe it would take time, but so what?

I needed air. I found Noah right outside the front door, sitting on the doorstep and rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey."

He pulled up his collar. "If you're looking for the witch, she's in the car, talking to herself."

"I'm beginning to think all witches are as mad as a bag of cats." I sat next to him. "You doing okay?"

"About Egan? It's a bit screwed up, but I've seen worse."

"You look upset. Did something else happen? Lavinia freak you out?"

He smiled. "Just a little. I saw the slaves downstairs, and it just... it reminds me of the way things were for us. Sometimes I forget what it was really like."

"And you can't talk about it," I said softly.

"I'm not sure that's a bad thing." He scratched the stubble on his chin. "The ones here didn't have it as bad as we did, I don't think."

"Everyone has their own version of bad."

He looked at me. "Do you think Phoenix will get in trouble?"

"Depends on what we say, I suppose." I nudged him. "So why did _you_ help me upstairs? You hated the slave market as much as anyone else. Why did you get Lavinia to help me stop Phoenix?"

He frowned. "I trust you," he said. "And Phoenix doesn't deserve to be punished. I'm not going to tell anyone what he did, only that Egan killed himself when we got here. What's the point in anything else?"

The lie didn't sit right with me, but we had more than my conscience to worry about. No matter what happened, a prominent human had died under suspicious circumstances. If we didn't come up with enough evidence, most people would happily believe he hadn't done anything wrong.

"He was a terrible person, wasn't he?" Noah said. "As bad as Phoenix's mother."

"In his own way. But it's over. We should get the witch and go back inside to figure out what we're going to tell people about tonight."

He agreed, and we gathered everyone together to discuss the situation. Phoenix didn't speak much, but by the time Shay arrived to take over, we had all agreed on our story. And Clementine had earned her seat on the Senate.

# 24

Phoenix arrived at my doorstep with a shoebox. "To replace the ones you lost at the charity event," he explained.

I opened the box. It was the exact same pair. "Thank you." I couldn't stop my smile. "How did you know my size?" I asked, taking the box into the living room.

"Carl," he said.

"Am I the only one who thinks it's weird that he knows my measurements?" I joked.

"Not at all."

We both sat down and looked at each other. The silence quickly grew awkward. It was the first time I'd seen Phoenix in person since the night Egan died. At the press conferences on television, he'd sat in silence, a dead look in his eyes, while the rest of the Senate tried to fix the onslaught of bad press the incident had incurred. Despite knowing the truth, despite everything that had been revealed, many people refused to believe our version of the story.

There had even been a memorial service for Egan in the city centre, which was so well attended that it stopped traffic for an entire day. The Senate were scrambling to recover, but the damage had been done. Trust had been broken too many times. Even the people who believed that Egan was a criminal couldn't trust those in positions of power because so many people had been bribed or blackmailed into helping him.

The slaves, even some who were surprisingly reluctant to be freed, were all being taken care of, and a massive investigation was going on into Egan's businesses and contacts. As it turned out, Tomas was something of a savant. He could talk for hours about every deal, every slave, and every meeting Egan had ever had anything to do with. There was a good chance his memories could help track down Robin's father, and because the information went back to Fionnuala's time, I wondered if the Senate would eventually pair up more of the children with their real families.

Tomas and Lavinia had evidently been precious to Egan—always kept hidden and close to him. None of the other slaves were Irish, but Tomas was very capable of directing the Senate to their suppliers. Egan had owned a couple of slaves for a long time, but most were new additions trafficked from warring countries. He had links to major scumbags across Europe, and he had been working on setting up the slave industry in Ireland. We had stopped him before his expansion grew. I was satisfied by the conclusion, but so many threads were still hanging loose.

"How are you doing?" I asked, clearing my throat. "I haven't seen you... for a while."

"I've been busy dealing with... the aftermath."

"And Clementine's fitting in on the Senate?"

He straightened. "Yes," he said, his tone closing the book on _that_ subject.

I tapped the shoebox. "Thanks for the shoes. I'll probably never wear them, but they're the prettiest things I've ever owned."

His expression softened. "It was the least I could do. After everything."

"The protesters are having a field day." I leaned forward and hugged my knees. "But the Senate's damage control seems to be doing okay."

"So far." He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and left it on the coffee table. "A cheque for services rendered. It's made out to you, but we trust you to split it between everyone who helped."

"We're getting paid now?" I grinned. "That's new."

He shrugged. "The Senate desperately needs to keep everything aboveboard. If your people were working under our orders, then there should be no blowback on you for... anything that comes to light."

"Ah." I pushed the envelope aside. "I'll make sure everyone involved gets their fair share. Is the night Egan died going to be a problem for... anyone?"

"Me, you mean?" he said wryly. "Not so much unless the Senate decide to oust me."

That worried me. "Would they do that?"

"I've come to understand that people are capable of anything. This will blow over, but that doesn't mean it won't rise up again in the future."

"Do you think..." I bit my lip. "Do you think it's over with Egan? Or will there be any nasty surprises down the line?"

He looked faintly surprised. "He's dead. The school will reopen soon. The protesters will get bored. The newspapers will find a new story. It's over, Ava."

"And the halfway house?"

"We're pushing it forward." A sheepish laugh escaped his lips. "Noah proved to have more sense than I did. He deserves a chance to keep proving himself."

"Like Clementine, eh?"

"You know how it is, Ava." He licked his lower lip. "I've been to see Lavinia and Robin. They're related to the twins in some way, so I suppose they are family."

"Lavinia's had a weird life. She might struggle in the real world without some help."

"She told me things that make my skin crawl," he said. "But they're safe now. Tomas is well protected in case any of the criminals he's helping us find decide to get rid of him." He sighed. "And I heard from Lorcan. He told me you convinced him to return home for a visit."

"I thought you might need that, given everything that happened. But he didn't need much convincing. I think he's looking forward to it." I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering how to begin. "There's something I found that I didn't show you."

He froze. "What is it?"

"When Breslin was looking for information on tithes and such, he found some of Baba Yaga's old ledgers. She had a lot of deals and favours, too, but she also kept records on the lost souls she helped. There's an entry or two that you might be interested in."

I fetched Baba Yaga's book. I knelt by his side and showed him the page. He frowned as he skimmed the page.

"But what does it mean?" he asked.

"At some stage, you had dealings with the Matriarch," I said. "That's all I know. I could get Breslin to look into it, but he might not be able to find anything out. You could have exchanged a favour, but maybe you really were a lost soul, Phoenix."

He looked at me. "And now you're the Matriarch."

"Yeah. Does anything there make sense to you?"

"A trade." He pointed at the markings on the page. "This symbol means nothing to me." He frowned. "Do you think Helena was a slave when I met her?"

"I mean, it's possible, but—"

"The trade," he continued as though I hadn't spoken. "What if that meant some kind of trade- _off_? What if Helena and I fell in love, and then we managed to trade her place with Lavinia's mother or grandmother? What did we _do_?"

"Stop," I said softly. "You don't know. Don't start wearing the blame for things that might never have even happened."

He sighed. "All the same, I'll make sure Lavinia and her baby are taken care of." He held my gaze in silence for a couple of seconds, and goose bumps prickled my arms. "I should go."

I walked him to the front door. In the afternoon sun's haze, he lingered, looking out at the children playing in the cul-de-sac. "At least some good has come of this experience."

"A lot of good has," I said. "A lot of bad people are going to be hunted because of this. And the twins have found new family."

"Lavinia tells me their blood is cursed."

"Curses can be broken." I reached out and touched his hand. "That's if they exist at all."

He stared at my hand. "Emmett's just there."

"I know. Maybe it's time I practised what I preached. The past can't punish us forever if we don't let it."

He sagged against the doorway. "Ava, I know things have been... we've grown closer, but there's nothing I can offer you. You saw me, how badly I coped with Egan. There is no future with a man like me."

I held his gaze. "The future seems really far away right now."

He bent and dropped a brief kiss on my lips. "I can't offer you anything worth keeping, but if you ever want company, you know how to reach me." The words sounded nonchalant, but the look in his eyes said something very different.

He left before I could think of anything to say. I had never seen him so low, and yet there was something new about him that I hadn't noticed when he appeared on television—a lightness that vulnerability had given him. And I thought how very tiring it must have been for him to always put on a mask and hide the rest. If I could help him drop it, then maybe I should. I liked him, and I wanted to help him.

I watched his car drive away, saw Emmett throw a stone in its wake, and sighed. The past and the future didn't want to jell.

Carl came out of his house, waved at me, and approached. "Was that Phoenix?" he called out.

"Yeah, he brought me shoes."

He grinned and stepped into my garden. "I thought he'd chicken out. I told him you'd laugh at him. Did you laugh at him?"

"Not today. Since when do you buddy up with the fae anyway?"

He lifted his shoulders into a shrug. "He's not so bad really, and if he wants to buy you things, who am I to stop him? Is he always so mopey, though?"

"Must be your influence." I folded my arms across my chest as I watched Emmett kick a football against a wall. "Since... that night, he seems down about everything."

"Yeah, well, he's been getting a hard time in the papers." He sighed. "Everyone's ignoring the things that Shay and the Senate have discovered about Egan. They're just pretending that he's not the biggest scumbag who has ever walked the face of the planet." He shrugged. "This year."

I tried to smile. It wasn't fair how Phoenix was being treated. But maybe I could help, even a little. "You seem in good form."

"Got my job back." He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I don't know. Kind of feels like the sun came back out."

"You're super-dramatic sometimes."

"I'm trying this new thing where I'm less emotional and whingey." He laughed, but I barely managed a smile. "Hey, you okay?"

I gazed out at the cul-de-sac. "Yeah," I said. "I think I am. I have an idea, but I might need your help." I went inside.

He followed. "What is it?"

"The news, the newspapers, they're all spouting the same story all of the time. What if we get that reporter we met to write a different story? She could interview us, people at the school, IAs, supernatural business owners, kids like Noah, people like Nate. She owes us, right? So maybe she could do a positive piece, and we could give her the true story of Declan Egan." I smiled. "We'll clean up Kenneth and get him to reveal all."

"That's a sweet idea," Carl said. "But I think people have already made up their minds."

"So we should give up?" I shook my head. "We've never been ones for giving up, Carl. Why should we start now?"

# Epilogue

Weeks had passed since Egan's death, and Áine O'Neill's stories about Declan Egan's exploits, as well as her series on a different aspect of the supernatural world in Ireland every week, were being talked about as often as, if not more than, the Humans First take on the matter being a massive cover-up.

The reporter kept me updated on general public opinion of the pieces. While the pictures of the children in the school and Shay's boxing club had helped them come across as real people, something about my name reminded plenty of people that I had been the one who first brought truth to them. Some people hated that, maybe even wanted me punished for it, but to others, it meant I could be trusted.

All in all, Áine's editor had been impressed by the response, and she had been cleared to write a weekly column for the foreseeable future that would attempt to mend the disconnect between humans and everyone else.

I hadn't seen Phoenix, but Shay let me know that his life was slightly easier after Kenneth and Tomas's joint interview was published. Kenneth had cleaned up nicely, and with his brother gone, he was about to take over the legitimate company in his family's name. Tomas had less personality but more facts, and between the two, they made the interview come across as convincing. Declan Egan had been a bad man, and more people were starting to believe it.

The tide was beginning to turn, and although people like the annoying protesters would never believe anything somebody like me said, others were easily influenced. And almost everyone won something.

Carl got his job back, Noah found a permanent escape from the children's home in the form of a halfway house, and Clementine earned a spot on the Senate. Alex had a permanent job with Breslin, while Val and Peter finally started getting frequent offers of work. I was pretty sure Phoenix had something to do with that.

Nick and Emmett discovered a way to coexist, and the werewolves decided that keeping their cubs in school wasn't such a terrible thing, after all. Anka's business picked up, Dita got her werewolf friend to trust her, Wes assured me the old neighbourhood was back to normal, and Moses had cleaned up his flats again and was preparing to set up a new security business—with my help. The slaves had new lives, the blackmail and bribes had ended, the emergency services could be trusted again because Shay had been given the authority to vet the staff, and even Finn's bar went back to normal, with added security.

But there were still loose ends. Jennifer Boyle and her boyfriend still hadn't reappeared, and the culprit behind the gangland assassination wasn't found. A reckless hothead had replaced the leader, but so far, everything had been quiet on that front. Not all of Egan's suppliers had been tracked down yet because of cultural differences getting in the way of official investigations. That didn't mean the search was over, but it was all out of my hands.

I went back to business and tried to move on. And I discovered I missed Phoenix's company. When I thought about it logically, his actions weren't so different to Peter's in the past, but there were differences. Peter had never laid himself bare. He had always kept his secrets close to his chest and pretended they weren't there. Phoenix let his mask fall in my company, and in some ways, I felt as though I knew him in a way I knew nobody else.

And maybe that was why I ended up on his doorstep late at night, my heart rattling in my chest.

He opened the door, clearly surprised to see me. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Want some company?" I asked, and the words sounded as though _I_ had just laid everything bare.

He held my gaze for about three seconds before taking my hand and pulling me inside the house. He closed the door and pressed my back against it. "Yes, please," he said hoarsely.

And then he carried me upstairs.

# About the Author

Thanks for reading Tithes. If you want to read more books about Ava's Lost Souls, then please let me know you're interested. Thanks again!

* * *

For more information about me, check out my blog. For more regular updates, follow me on Twitter or Facebook. To be notified about new releases then sign up to the newsletter. Turn the page for a list of my books.

Contact Me:

  *     @doingitwritenow
  *     clairefarrellauthor

www.clairefarrellauthor.com

claire_farrell@live.ie

# Also by Claire Farrell

**B ooks by Claire Farrell:**

* * *

**C haos Series:**

One Night with the Fae (Companion Prequel)

Soul (Chaos #1)

Fade (Chaos #2)

Queen (Chaos #3)

Usurper (Chaos #4)

Blight (Chaos #5)

Kings (Chaos #5.5)

Sacrifice (Chaos #6)

* * *

**A va Delaney Series (Completed):**

Thirst (Ava Delaney #1)

Taunt (Ava Delaney #2)

Tempt (Ava Delaney #3)

Taken (Ava Delaney #4)

Taste (Ava Delaney #5)

Traitor (Ava Delaney #6)

Awakening (Ava Delaney Volume I – Books 1-3)

Uprising (Ava Delaney Volume II – Books 4-6)

* * *

**L ost Souls Series:**

Tainted (Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #1)

Tethers (Ava Delaney: Lost Souls #2)

* * *

**V BI Series:**

Demon Dog (VBI #1)

* * *

**C ursed Series (Completed):**

Verity (Cursed #1)

Clarity (Cursed #2)

Adversity (Cursed #2.5)

Purity (Cursed #3)

Cursed Omnibus (Entire Cursed Series)

* * *

**S take You Series (Completed):**

Stake You (Stake You #1)

Make You (Stake You #2)

Break You (Stake You #3)

* * *

**S hort Story Collections:**

Sixty Seconds

A Little Girl in my Room

* * *

**O ther:**

Death is a Gift (A standalone banshee novel)

Zombie Moon Rising (A Peter Brannigan Novella)

Ghost Moon Rising (A Peter Brannigan Novella)

Crucible (A Phoenix Novella)
