The tricky part, and the reason I needed a vampire, was getting into the locked cottage. We stood in front of it now, inspecting the door. It was secured by three deadbolts, each with a different key. I’d watched from the helicopter as three Goons stepped forward, each opening one lock. The keys belonged to the authorities who’d stuck me here—I doubted they kept duplicates at the retreat.
“So,” I said, putting a hand on the door, “this is my temporary home, and I’d like to invite you inside.”
Juliet grinned. Her fangs glowed a little in the moonlight. She pointed at the locks—one, two, three—and each clicked open.
“The door is open,” she said, bowing low with a flourish. “There lies your way.”
Everyone knows that if you invite a vampire into your dwelling, nothing, not even a locked door, can keep that vampire out.
“‘There lies your way’? That sounds like Shakespeare.”
“The Taming of the Shrew. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t come inside. Tonight, it’s the taming of the Goon for me.” She winked and disappeared.
I went inside and closed the door. When the locks clicked back into place, it was like I’d never left.
AN HOUR LATER, I WAS LYING ON THE LUMPY PLAID SOFA reading a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream that I’d found in the bookcase, hoping to pick up a couple of new Shakespeare quotes I could use in conversation with Juliet. A weird way to say thanks, but she’d love it. The going was slow, though, and my eyelids kept drooping.
A mosquito buzzed around my head. I waved it off, but it was back in a minute, whining in my ear. Wait—this was April. April is too early for mosquitoes.
“That better not be you, Butterfly.”
The whine turned into words. “Now, I could say how badly you screwed things up in the Darklands. Or I could say how disappointed your niece was when you blew off family day. But notice I’m not saying those things. So don’t kill me. Like, I might add, you tried to do very brutally on top of that mountain.”
“Go away.” I put the book over my face.
“Wow, what a welcome. And when I’m here to keep a promise.”
“What promise?”
“News from the demon plane. Boy, do you have a short memory. But never mind. I’ll go. I’m sure you’re not interested in knowing what happened after the Hellion and the demi-demon went over that cliff.”
I sat up. The book dropped in my lap. “Tell me.”
“Oh, now she wants to know. Well, maybe I don’t want to tell you anymore. Not after you hurt my feelings.”
“You’re not making me feel guilty, Butterfly. Just annoyed.”
“I don’t like annoyance. Tastes bitter.” That annoyed me even more. “Okay, okay. They both survived. Winked out halfway to the ground, then winked back in elsewhere in Uffern. Magic—the demi-demon’s got a wizard who’s helping him.” So Mab was right about Myrddin. “But they’re not exactly getting along,” Butterfly continued. “They’re fighting each other for control. Difethwr is powerful, even more than before, and it doesn’t like being bound, but the demi-demon has the wizard on his side. It’s a toss-up who’ll win.”
Neither, I hoped. Best-case scenario: They’d both perish in a battle to their mutual deaths. I knew the worst-case scenario, that they’d start cooperating and Pryce would push forward with his goal of expanding Hell, was far more likely. But with the Destroyer’s rage and Pryce’s arrogance, cooperation wouldn’t happen any time soon.
Mab was right that time was short, but it hadn’t run out yet. A small blessing, but I’d take it.
“Thanks, Butterfly.” I couldn’t believe I was saying thank you to a guilt-demon.
“No problemo. See you around.”
“Don’t count on it!” But the demon had gone. Really gone, it seemed, from the lack of gnawing in my gut. Make that two small blessings.
I gave up on Shakespeare and went to bed. Usually I was awake at this time of night, but my trip to the Darklands had thrown me off schedule. Otherworldly jet lag.
Clearing my mind, I let myself drift off. Butterfly stayed away. Either Tina’s trick had finally worked, or else the rage and violence I’d felt on that mountaintop had been too much for it. Hah. There was a new trick for Tina: Get rid of your demons by scaring them away. I’d have to tell her about that one. I let the thought fade and settled into sleep.
In my dreamscape, I drifted through a blue sky, riding on a fluffy pink cloud. Wait—pink cloud? Not exactly typical in my dreamscape. Then I recognized the colors: Pink and blue meant Maria. My niece was calling me on the dream phone.
I imagined her sitting beside me on the cloud, her legs folded, her pale blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. A minute later, there she was.
“Sorry about missing family day,” I said.
She shrugged. “It’s okay. Aunt Mab called. She said you couldn’t make it.”
Mab had called Maria on the dream phone? Gwen would freak. Thanks to the old enmity between her and Mab, she’d forbidden contact. “You know you’re only allowed to talk to your mom and me on the dream phone.”
“Grandma, too. Mom said.” She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “Anyway, Aunt Mab didn’t call on the dream phone. She called on the phone phone. Grandma talked to her. She told us you were sick and couldn’t go out. Are you feeling better?”
Mab must have gone into the village to call from the phone at the pub. And I’d thought she didn’t pay attention to things like family day.
“I’m fine. I’ll be good as new in a few days.”
“Good, because we decided to wait on family day until next Saturday so you could be there.”
“Really?” The lump in my throat surprised me.
Another shrug. “It wouldn’t be any fun without you.”
It took a minute to get the lump down to a manageable size. “So how are things going?” I asked.
“Okay. Mom and I aren’t fighting as much. And I like having Grandma here. But I miss you.” Her smile was almost shy. “You really think you can come this weekend?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Cool. I won’t make you promise this time, ’cause I know that sometimes, you know, things happen.”
“Yes, things do happen.” And all you could do was try and be ready for them.
Maria yawned, and I suggested she get some rest. The same thing Mab had said to me. For some reason, that made me smile.
THE WORST THING ABOUT QUARANTINE WAS THE BOREDOM. One day blurred into the next as I slept, read, and ate food out of cans. Over and over I did those things, all the while trying not to think about Kane.
I wasn’t very good at that last part—not thinking about him.
All day long, I imagined where he was and what he was doing. I didn’t understand the details of his work as a lawyer, but I could picture him in his office, surrounded by books and papers, or standing in the hallway talking to Iris or one of the younger partners. I could see him sitting in his favorite lunch spot, hamburger in hand, eyes on his laptop screen. I knew so well how he looked sitting on his sofa, holding the remote, loosening his tie by maybe half an inch as he watched the news. How he slept on his right side, face pressed into the pillow.
And I could see him as a wolf—graceful, strong, majestic. His fur silver, his alert gray eyes glowing like moonlight.
So many times, he’d come for me. He’d traveled to Wales to tell me I was important to him. He’d gone up against Myrddin to save me. He’d attacked the Destroyer when I couldn’t raise my sword. And he’d traded his freedom for the chance to bring me back from the dead.
Mallt-y-Nos would try to break him. He’d resist—of course he would—but all that burning pain, all the humiliation and bending to a hostile will—it would take a terrible toll. What would he lose? His confidence? His easy smile? His belief in justice and higher ideals?
I didn’t want him to lose anything.
And so the days passed, and Kane was always in my thoughts. The Kane I’d had. The Kane I’d lost. And the giant question mark of what he would become.
* * *
THE SUN HAD BARELY SET ON MY LAST NIGHT IN THE COTTAGE when I heard a howling in the distance. I looked up from my book. Wolves? I listened. No, not wolves. Baying hounds.
Two minutes later, when the fiery steed of Mallt-y-Nos burst through the wall, I stood in a hastily-made sphere of magical protection, ready to confront her.
Hellhounds surged into the room. They snapped and lunged, held back by the magic. I counted them. Six. Kane wasn’t part of the pack. Of course he wasn’t—the next full moon was three weeks away.
The horse pawed the floor, its iron hooves striking sparks. A skull peered around its neck. Mallt-y-Nos pointed a bony finger at me. As her youth returned, her face twisted in fury.
“I will not be cheated!” she shrieked. “Where is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It took an effort to keep my voice steady as I looked into her shifting, terrifying face.
“My falcon! It’s gone.”
“I don’t have it.” But inwardly I cheered the falcon’s escape. I’d rather picture it soaring over Hellsmoor than kept captive by this hag. “Maybe it’s returned to the Darklands, back to its nest.”
“No! I’d know if it crossed the border.” Her middle-aged face frowned. “The bird flew to you before—it alighted on your arm. It’s come back to you now.”
“Look around,” I said. “You won’t find it here.”
At their hag’s command, the hounds tore through the cottage. On the hunt, they sniffed and searched everywhere. It didn’t take long. The cottage was small, and I hadn’t seen the falcon since I left the Darklands. The hounds returned to their mistress, heads low with shame at their failure, and cringed at her feet. She waved a hand and they yelped in pain.