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but it sure as hell beat the alternative. Judging by the secrecy of the townhouse, and the sudden burst of voices I’d heard while talking to the butler, I was willing to bet there was a portal to that world beyond the threshold.

I clicked the cylinder of my revolver home and scanned the street in front of the townhouse. I just needed someone to show up who could give me some damned answers.

“Well, what do we have here?” I whispered.

A Clydesdale clopped into view from down the street, pulling a dark carriage. In front of the townhouse, the horse slowed to a stop. A man in a black top hat and cape climbed down from the driver’s bench and opened the carriage door. Laughter bubbled out as a well-heeled man and woman appeared on the carriage’s far side. Their formal dress and the woman’s blatant show of jewelry, coupled with their being out so late, screamed “fae.”

I climbed over the sedan’s center console and exited on the passenger side. Using the cars parked curbside as cover, I slinked along the sidewalk until I was across the street from the carriage.

The man handed something to the driver, who bowed, climbed back onto the carriage, and snapped the reins. The horse and carriage moved away, leaving the frosted-haired couple giggling on the sidewalk. The woman took the man’s arm in an exaggerated stumble, and the two broke into louder laughter.

Drunk fae. Even better.

I waited for the sound of the horse to diminish before jogging across the street. I pulled up behind the couple and drew my revolver.

“Stop right there,” I said.

The couple looked at one another, then wheeled clumsily.

“This thing’s loaded with cold iron,” I said, “so I want you to listen.”

“And who are you?” the man asked in a vaguely English accent.

“I’m looking for someone. I’ll release you as soon as you can tell me where she is.”

Their drunkenness seemed to have subdued their magic as much as their reaction times. They continued to blink at one another and at my revolver, their faces a blend of surprise and amusement.

“Well, are you going to tell us who you’re looking for?” the man asked.

“Caroline Reid.”

The woman’s face brightened. “Caroline Reid?”

“You know her?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. A lovely, lovely young woman.” She turned to the man. “You remember her, honey? She came over to interview you about your time in Mayor Alito’s administration.”

“What?” I said.

“For a book she was writing,” the woman said, wavering on her feet. “We have a signed copy on our…” She hiccupped and circled a hand as she tried to come up with the word. “…our mantel.”

I looked from the woman to the man. Were they fae?

“Who are you?” I asked.

At that moment, the door to the townhouse opened, and a pale rectangle of light spilled into the street. I squinted at the slight figure bisecting the doorway. “Mr. and Mrs. Darby? Is everything all right?”

I couldn’t make out his face, but I recognized his voice. The butler.

“Oh, fine, Jasper,” the woman slurred. “We were just chatting with our new friend here.”

“Hey!” I called, swinging my revolver toward the butler. “Stay right there!”

“I suggest you come inside,” the butler said to the couple. “It is late after all.”

The well-dressed man staggered as he turned to me and bowed. “Very nice to meet you.”

“Yes,” the woman called over a shoulder. “And please tell Caroline hello for us. Such a dear.”

I tried to climb after them, but I couldn’t seem to lift my feet, which had suddenly taken on weight. The same leaden weight forced my revolver arm down until the weapon clicked against a stone step. I watched the couple disappear through the light and into the fae townhouse. The oppressive weight dropped me to both hands and knees, and I tried to crawl. Soon, I couldn’t even do that.

“Good evening, Mr. Croft,” the butler said with stern finality.

“Wait…” My lungs could barely fill the word. I strained to breathe against the growing pressure.

The butler receded into the townhouse, the light narrowing until the door clicked closed. Whatever enchantment he had cast released me, and I could inhale a full breath again.

I stood from the steps and whispered an incantation to test my magic. The barest force rippled through me. My powers were in remission again. Fan-flipping-tastic.

“Thought we might find you here,” a stuffy voice said.

I wheeled to see Floyd and Whitey stalking up the sidewalk, Floyd with a triangular cast over his busted nose. Both were wielding their vintage Colts. I backed away, wondering how in the hell they had known to come here, when I remembered my conversation with Mr. Reid in the Escalade. I’d given him the street.

“That was some stunt you pulled on the pier,” Floyd said. “And getting your buddies to jump in?”

I glanced around as Moretti’s men strode nearer, but something told me Arnaud’s blood slaves wouldn’t be bailing me out this time. Once Vega received her transfusion, she would be able to connect the final dot, find out who the mother was. Arnaud didn’t need me anymore.

“This is the house,” I said, pointing up the steps. “This is where that guy took Caroline.”

“You’re wasting your breath.” Floyd raised his gun.

“Why the hell else would I be standing out here at three in the morning?”

“The hell should I know? To make yourself look innocent? Anyway, I don’t know what house you’re even talking about.”

I glanced over. Damn. The veiling spell.

“Drop the gun,” Whitey said in his raspy voice.

“Sorry, guys. I’m not leaving here until I find Caroline.”

“Drop the gun,” Whitey repeated, cocking his hammer.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. But I’m pretty sure Mr. Reid doesn’t want a dead body attached to his name.”

“Yeah, but Mr. Moretti does,” Floyd said. “You just popped up on our list.”

“Mr. Moretti?”

“Shut it,” Whitey said to his partner. I read the narrow look he shot Floyd. They were planning to collect twice on me. First from Mr. Reid for extracting the information on his daughter’s whereabouts, and

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