"What is it?"

"Alex Craft? Why are you whispering?" Lusa's amiable voice asked on the other side of the line.

"That's complicated. Did you contact Corrie? Were you able to learn anything about the runes?"

"You better believe I did. I took the runes to Dr. Corrie, like you suggested. We had to search back, way back, in his old tomes to find mentions of these runes and we still haven't identified most. Even his library gets a little spotty once you go back a few centuries, but it looks like none of these were in use as late as four centuries ago, and if you're looking for when they would have been common, you have to search back at least six centuries. Though remember, that wasn't exactly an age of sharing for witches, so the variation among pract.i.tioners and covens was pretty vast."

So either someone had dug up a really old grimoire or we were dealing with a witch who had been around a long time. I thought about the glamour-coated constructs. I knew a place where a witch could live long enough for magic to revolutionize around her more than once. Faerie.

I asked about what spells the runes might have been used for, but Lusa and Corrie were still in the identification stage of research, so I wrapped up the call in several hurried whispers. Lusa wasn't happy, but I couldn't afford to keep playing twenty questions with a reporter when it might get me caught crouching in the dining room by the FIB.

Now to get out of here. As I turned toward the door, a dog started barking upstairs. PC.

I stopped, stuck in indecision. I was on the run. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know if I'd even be okay in the end. But Caleb was in Faerie by now, and Holly was missing, so there was no one here to take care of PC if I didn't make it back soon.

I couldn't leave my dog. I took the stairs as quietly as possible. When I reached the top, I cracked the inner door and PC barreled out.

"Hey, buddy," I said, dropping my purse on the top step so I could pick him up. "I'm going to put you in my purse, and then we are going to be really, really quiet and sneak out of here, okay?"

He yipped, just happy to see me, and I sighed. It was times like this when I wished someone had invented a charm that made dogs understand English. Well, here goes nothing.

I slipped the dog inside my purse. He was a small dog, but it wasn't that big of a purse, and his front legs and head popped out the top. I placed the strap of the purse across my chest, and PC didn't squirm, so he seemed to feel secure. Still, I kept a tight arm on the purse as I crept down the steps and out the back door.

"Two steps sideways to one step forward. When the world decays, you must do what is against your nature to do or the knights will fall."

I startled at the voice in my head, and whirled around. "Fred?"

The large stone gargoyle crouched down on the side of the porch, its wings curled tight around its body. If I hadn't been able to see the slight blue tint of the soul, I would have thought the gargoyle nothing more than a small stone boulder.

"What does that mean?" I whispered, but the gargoyle didn't answer. I waited several moments, but I couldn't stand there waiting for an explanation of the cryptic . . . premonition? Riddle? I had to get away from the house and out of sight.

It wasn't until I reached the street where the cabbie had dropped me off that I really considered where I was going. Or really, realized that I had nowhere to go. If I called a friend, I might put him in danger either from the constructs hunting me or the fae trying to drag me to Faerie. Not to mention the fact that the FIB probably had fabricated some sort of warrant for my arrest by now, and most of my friends were in some branch of law enforcement.

Where could a girl with a newfound tendency to merge realities, a ghost, and a small dog go to hide? Well, there was one option, though I hated considering it. There was one place no one in his right mind would ever look for me. I pulled out my phone and called my father.

I huddled under the sheltering wings of the granite angel that had stood overlooking a cemetery three blocks from Caleb's house for the last forty years. The statue protected me from the casual onlooker, but I could peek out to see the gate and a bit of the road beyond. It seemed to take a lifetime before I heard gravel crunch under tires and saw a black Porsche with mirrored windows roll to a stop outside the small cemetery gate.

I wished I could have sent Roy to check out the driver and make sure it wasn't the FIB or one of the skimmers, but he hadn't been able to enter the cemetery. The gates of a cemetery were meant to keep the dead inside, which also effectively kept ghosts trapped if they entered. He'd headed out to check on Bell's activities-and maybe actually get an address this time-so I was on my own. Well, let's hope for the best.

I hopped down from my perch, my legs protesting after being curled against my body so long. I ignored the pins and needles as I turned and collected my purse-and the dog currently sleeping in it. Then I made my way around the grave markers toward the car.

The Porsche's doors clicked, unlocking as I approached. I still couldn't see who was inside, which made my hair stand on end and my scalp feel a little too tight. If it was in fact my ride, I'd be happy about the heavy tinting, but if it wasn't . . .

The pa.s.senger door popped open. "Get in the car, Alexis," a crisp voice said.

I blinked in surprise, recognizing the voice. I hadn't thought my father would come himself.

My father and I didn't exactly get along. I'd like to say it was nothing personal, but that would have been a lie. It was very, very personal.

I'd spent most of my life believing he hated me because I'd been born a wyrd witch, and wyrd witches, especially wyrd children, can't hide what they are. I didn't fit his image of the perfect norm family he'd built. Then a month ago I'd learned he was one of the Sleagh Maith, the n.o.bles of Faerie, and it made me reevaluate everything I knew about him. The end result? I'd decided he was playing at something bigger and further stretching than I even wanted to know, and I wasn't interested in being a p.a.w.n in his game. Continuing with the status quo of ignoring each other's existence had seemed like a good plan. Until the fae forced me to go home crying "daddy."

"I thought you'd just send someone," I said as I slid into the plush leather seat and pulled the door closed behind me.

"Not for this."

What's that supposed to mean?

"How are you, Alexis?" he asked as he pulled the car away from the curb.

I didn't answer, but just sat studying his profile. My psyche was apparently now touching both a plane that accepted glamour and one that didn't because I could see both the glamour that made him look like the clean-cut, just past fifty, respectable politician who walked around Nekros as governor and a leader in the Humans First Party and the face he hid under that glamour that appeared only a few years older than me and featured the striking bone structure of the ruling cla.s.s of fae.

But from which court?

There weren't many Sleagh Maiths in the mortal realm. They were the royal blood of Faerie. Oh, they'd been front and center when the fae came out during the Magical Awakening, as they were humanlike and beautiful-at least by human standards-but of the openly fae, aside from some figureheads and some movie stars, it was rare to see Sleagh Maith. Unglamoured, at least. I guess there was no telling how many were in hiding. But now that I thought about it, I didn't know any independent Sleagh Maith-except, hopefully, my father.

Okay, way to think myself nervous. "You are independent, aren't you?"

My father looked over at me. "No."

c.r.a.p. Why hadn't I thought of asking him that before I asked for his help? I hadn't been paying attention to where we were headed, but now that I glanced outside, I realized we weren't going toward the mansion he called a house.

"Let me out of this car."

"Sit down, Alexis, before you dump that poor dog on the floorboard," he said, and I noticed that the purse, with dog, in my lap was teetering. A lot. "I am not winter court, nor do I care what that impetuous and selfish queenling has to say."

"Oh?" Tell me how you really feel, Dad. But he couldn't lie, and there hadn't been much wiggle room in that statement. I sank lower in my seat and clutched PC to my chest. "What court are you, then? And if you aren't winter court but you are aligned, how are you here? I thought court fae had to move with their courts."

"Typically," he said, but didn't expound on the answer.

I frowned at his profile. I admittedly didn't know enough about fae, but it really irritated me that people kept breaking the rules I had heard. I noticed he also didn't tell me which court he belonged to-which theoretically, I also belonged to. Except Faerie acknowledges me as unaligned. I knew the fae inside Faerie were born into courts. They could change, but initially they belonged to the same court as their parents. So did Faerie not realize I was his daughter? Is he that deep in hiding?

"Does your court know where you are?"

"Alexis, I do believe that is the most intelligent question you've asked all night."

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

I was surprised when that statement earned a smile, and not the one he gave to voters, but a grin that made his hidden fae face look mischievous. "Very good, Alexis."

Deep hiding it is. "So how do I hide what I am?" "Right now? You don't. Your fae mien is undergoing a kind of metamorphosis."

Great. I guess I should be happy I hadn't woken as a c.o.c.kroach.

"Tell me, Alexis, did you inherit in Faerie?"

The question switched gears so fast it caught me off guard. "Should I have?"

"It is a simple enough question. You destroyed the body thief. Did you inherit his holdings?"

I stared straight ahead, not making a sound. After a couple of moments, my father chuckled under his breath.

"You have finally learned the value of silence." He sounded strangely pleased by that fact. "Now I must decide if I know you well enough to decipher your silence. Perhaps you are silent because you are so uncomfortable with your fae nature that you do not wish to admit it. Or perhaps you didn't inherit and you still possess the desire to earn paternal approval so you do not wish to tell me. Or perhaps you simply do not trust me."

That almost got a reaction from me. Almost. I did not seek George Caine's approval. But I managed to keep my face completely clear as I stared out the window at the world flying past. We were in a part of the city I didn't venture to often. You can't have a truly old portion of town with a city that has existed for only fifty or so years, but we were now in what was left of the original norm homes built after the s.p.a.ce unfolded.

"What are we doing here?"

"I am here to drop you off. You are here to get some rest."

He turned onto a street filled with narrow, one-story houses built so close together you could reach out your window and touch your neighbor's flower box. The whole neighborhood was in need of a refresh-and-repair charm-or at least some paint. My grave-sight didn't even make the houses look that much worse than reality. We turned into the driveway of a dingy gray house, and my father cut the engine.

A Porsche is really going to stand out in this neighborhood. I could imagine the neighbors looking out windows, but when I climbed out of the car, I found myself staring at a double image. A Porsche was underneath, but a boxy monstrosity with two different colors of dull paint was what the rest of the world was seeing. Glamour. When did he do that?

I looked up and found myself staring at a stranger. I was no longer with the governor of Nekros, but an older man in his mid-seventies with a bent back and a limp as he walked. Of course, under that image was the fae. My mouth went dry. How did I know this fae even really was my father?

Actually, I did know he was. He acted just like him. But still, it was creepy to see him turn into someone different.

"Don't dawdle," he said, limping his way up the drive to the front door.

I wonder if he changed what I look like, too?

I expected him to drop the glamour once the door closed behind us, but he remained an old man. "Here is a key in case you decide to leave-though I don't suggest that course of action. The wards on the house will prevent tracking spells from locating you as long as you are inside. I'll stop by in the next few days to check on you. In the meantime, I have a brownie who tends the house. He'll provide you with anything you need." He stopped and turned his head toward the back of the house. It was built shotgun style, the front door leading to the kitchen, then a combo den/living room, then a hall with a couple of doors along the walls and a back door at the end exactly parallel to the front door. "You heard that, Osier-whatever she needs."

No response came from the old house, but that didn't seem to surprise or upset him. He turned back to me, and I looked around the kitchen. All the appliances looked like they'd been new in the same decade as the now decrepit house.

"Have you owned this house all these years?" I knew from the face he hid that my father had once gone by the name Greggory Delane, and had been the governor of Nekros back when it was first named a state. He'd been openly fae then, one of Nekros's few fae governors. Fifty years later he was part of the Humans First Party-the thorn in the side of witches and fae everywhere. Go figure.

My father shrugged. "On paper? No. I'll check in on you."

The ancient hinges of the front door squealed as he let himself out. I caught the door before it could close.

"Can you get a message to Falin Andrews for me?"

His face darkened. "No. Have a good night, Alexis."

Chapter 26.

"Well, PC, looks like this is our temporary home base."

I set my purse on the floor, letting PC hop out onto the worn s.h.a.g carpet that I was guessing had once been red.

"Oh, no," a voice yelled from somewhere to my right. One of the cabinet doors under the sink opened and out stormed a little man. He wore a green suit, a pair of green suede shoes, and a small green hat. White hair escaped from under the hat on all sides. "He says take care of the girl, so I'll take care of the girl. Wipe her snotty nose if I have to. But I will not have that"-he pointed a large wooden spoon at PC-"in my house. Won't have it. Won't have it!" The brownie swung the wooden spoon like a lacrosse stick, and I scooped PC off the floor before the little man managed to hurt my dog.

"You must be Osier."

"Must be? Might be."

I frowned at the small creature. "Okay, then who are you?"

He crossed short arms over his chest, the spoon tucked under one armpit. "I am much put out."

Right. "Can he stay one night?"

"Hmph."

"Just one night. We'll leave in the morning." I was being run out of a house by a man who didn't even reach my knees. How sad was that?

The wooden spoon lowered, and I got a begrudging nod from the small fae. "One night only," he said. Then he turned and marched across the kitchen, climbed back under the sink, and slammed the cabinet door shut.

"Well, it's good to be welcomed," I said, setting PC back on the floor.

"Heard that," Osier's voice cried, but thankfully he didn't venture back out from under the sink.

I took a few moments to explore the house-and it took only a few. The rooms off the hall proved to be a master bedroom just big enough for a full-sized bed, a dresser, and a couple of lamps, and on the other side of the hall, a second, smaller bedroom that was used as storage and a dated bathroom. PC and I headed to the master bedroom, and I dropped my purse on the bed. Sleep sounded awfully tempting; after all, I had used a whole lot of magic in the last twelve or so hours. But there was still too much to do.

Digging through my purse, I pulled out the letter I'd picked up at Caleb's house. It was a little the worse for wear after having been in the purse with PC. I flipped it over. At one point it had been sealed with crimson wax, but Caleb must have broken that when he read the letter. A small clump of crimson remained, and I frowned at the buzz of a spell locked in the dark wax. Reaching with my senses, I immediately recognized the magical signature-no surprise that it was the same as the constructs. The spell itself was a simple alarm spell meant to alert the caster when the seal was broken. So they know it's been read. But not by me yet. I hoped it wasn't too time sensitive.

I pulled the letter out of the envelope and unfolded the parchment. c.r.a.p. I still wasn't actually seeing with my eyes, and what my psyche saw was badly weathered. I squinted, struggling to read the neat but small letters. A lot of staring, looking away, and moving closer to and farther from the paper was involved before I finally pieced together the message. Not that it was long.

Alex Craft, Your friend, while useful, does not have your abilities. If you would like her returned safely to her home, come to the old bridge. Two a.m. Tonight.

There was no signature, but what did I expect, the bad guy to leave a forwarding address? I paced around the small room, PC following at my heels. "The old bridge" had to refer to the stone bridge below town. And how exactly am I supposed to get there?

My head was pounding. Probably from the mix of exhaustion, expending too much magic too many days in a row, and the frequent rushes of adrenaline that had been flooding my system. I dipped my head, burying my face in my hands as I rubbed my eyes and temples.

If I went to the bridge, I'd be walking into a trap. But what happens to Holly if I don't? I needed some sort of backup. An edge. But what did I have? A dagger and a six-pound dog. Maybe a ghost if he popped around.

I wished I knew how to contact Falin. Not that he was likely to agree to my going to that bridge. Digging my phone out of my purse, I called Information, but, of course, Falin had no listed number. I briefly considered trying to call the local FIB branch. If anyone knew how to reach him, it would be the FIB. But, one, they probably wouldn't give me a number even if they had one, and two, with my luck they'd figure out who was asking and trace the call. Wards that protected me from being tracked did little good if I let technology pinpoint my location.

I continued to pace. If I went to that bridge alone, there was no guarantee that whoever had Holly would release her. I had to go to the police. I called John.

He answered on the second ring. "Alex? Girl, where are you? Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know. Did you know the FIB has a warrant out for your arrest?"

"Yeah. It's . . . complicated."

"You keep using that word. What the h.e.l.l is going on? You're working for the FIB. Then Andrews shows up, causes a scene, drags you out of the station, and an hour later I find out a warrant's been issued."

I cringed. John was my friend, but he was a cop first, and I knew I wasn't instilling a lot of confidence. I could almost hear him thinking that he was going to have to report the fact that I'd contacted him. I took a deep breath. "I wasn't ever working for the FIB, but I think I'm sort of, accidentally, involved with Falin. I had no authority to be on your crime scene."

The line was silent a moment longer. Then a low chuckle rumbled over the phone. "Accidentally involved? Only you, Al," he said, apparently forgiving me for the trespa.s.sing without a word. "You have broken more of my boys' hearts after a one-night stand than I can even guess, and then you end up 'accidentally' dating the biggest a.s.shole to ever walk through this place. You're right. That's complicated."