I glanced around, but there weren’t many other hiding places in the immediate vicinity. The palm trio was still smoking, despite the downpour, and was no longer in a position to hide much of anything. The graveled path to the front was clear, and the nearest vineyard didn’t start for a couple dozen yards.

I saw something move among the vines, a black ripple that darted between rows, silent and dangerous. Slipping quietly on the wet earth, I moved out of the ring of lights circling the house and into the darker reaches beyond. It wasn’t as dark as I would have liked—the lightning had grown worse, flashing silver strobes across the landscape—but it was better than remaining silhouetted against the floodlit stucco, practically begging to be attacked.

The air quivered like something stretched beyond bearable tension as I slowly crossed the yard, closing in on whatever was hiding in the vines. These weren’t nearly as large as the venerable specimens in the arbor, which looked like the conquistadores themselves might have planted them. But they were mature enough to give decent cover. It wasn’t until I was almost on top of my prey that I realized what it was.

A figure stepped out of the vines, wreathed in shadow, its face only a pale smudge through sheets of rain. My hair was plastered to my skin, my tunic heavy and waterlogged, but around the newcomer a bright pennant of hair lifted on a gust of breeze. Eyes clear as water met mine. I gripped my sword tighter and thought some very rude things. Fey. Perfect, just perfect. Then the attack came, blindingly fast and unbelievably strong, and I didn’t have time to think at all.

My sword was struck aside in the first rush, and went spinning off across the vineyard. It had to have gone fifty yards, and in the dark among the dense planting, I’d never find it. Something slashed through my sleeve and I jumped back, behind a vine that suddenly leapt off its row to slither around my feet, dumping me in the mud. I rolled aside and something silver flashed down, quick as the lightning and just as deadly, missing me by maybe a millimeter.

And then everything stopped. “Heidar!” The voice was shrill. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop it right now!”

I sat up, and although mud and blood and a few bird entrails that I must have missed fell into my eyes, I didn’t need sight to recognize that voice. “Claire!”

“Dory—where are you? Freaking rain! It’s after nine in the morning and I can’t see shit.”

I got to my feet and eyed the very abashed-looking Fey in front of me. Lightning flashed, showing me blond hair and pale blue eyes. Not the one I’d been dreading, then. Claire burst through a gap in the vines and reinforced that impression by smacking him on the shoulder. He had to be six feet five and was surprisingly well muscled for a Fey, but he cringed slightly.

“What did I tell you?” Claire was furious, and in characteristic fashion, she decided to set him straight before bothering with the pleasantries. I leaned back against a fence post and waited it out. Luckily for Radu’s future harvest, the vine kept its leaves to itself.

A few minutes later she wound down enough that I managed to insert a sentence into the tirade. “I’ve been looking for you,” I offered mildly.

Claire’s forehead unknotted slightly. “I knew you would. I was only gone a couple of days, but the damned Fey timeline isn’t in sync with ours and… anyway, I hope you didn’t worry.”

I thought back over the last month, to the sleepless nights and the restless days, to the fights and the calls and the threats and the beatings, and I smiled. “A little.”

“I’m really sorry, Dory, but you won’t believe everything that’s—” She caught me peering at her face and grabbed her nose, looking mortified. “Oh, God! Am I morphing? Tell me I’m not morphing!”

“Uh. No. Are you supposed to be?”

“Only in Faerie, so far.” Claire looked relieved. “Don’t stare at me like that! It freaks me out.”

“Sorry. I just… aren’t you supposed to have pointy ears or something?”

“Vulcans! Vulcans have pointy ears. Do I look like an alien to you?”

“No, but you never looked much like a Fey, either.”

“I would like to apologize for my mistake, lady,” Heidar said, jumping in during the nanosecond pause in the conversation. He’d obviously been around Claire for a while. “I was under the impression that you were a vampire.”

“I get that a lot,” I said kindly. “I’m Dory.”

The Fey brightened. “Is this where I introduce myself?” he whispered in a loud aside to Claire, who looked horrified.

“Oh, God.”

“I have been practicing,” Heidar informed me proudly, then launched into a recital of what had to be fifty names, most with explanations.

“Never ask them their names,” Claire advised as Heidar rattled on. “Just. Don’t.”

“Okay. It seems you’ve been busy.” I poked her in the middle. “Anything in there I should know about?”

She blanched. It made her freckles stand out like spots on white paper. “How did you hear about that?”

“Are you kidding me? So far, I had that runt Kyle—”

“I hate him. I hate all vamps. That complete toad, Michael—”

“—tell me you were pregnant by a vamp—”

“—kidnapped me and—Kyle said what?”

“—and then a member of the Domi shows up and informs me—”

“The Domi sent someone here?”

“—that you’re actually pregnant by the late king of the Fey.”

“Late?!” Heidar squeaked.

I stopped and looked at him. His hair was miraculously still mostly dry, despite the downpour. Claire’s, on the other hand, was as wet as mine, frizzing and straggling around her face like a dead animal pelt. It was hard to believe they were both half-Fey.

“Let me guess, you’re Alarr?”

“It means Elven general,” Heidar enlightened me automatically. “But, please, lady, I beg of you, tell us what you know of my father.”

“I’m sorry, not a lot. Only that he’s missing and presumed dead.”

“That is impossible,” Heidar said with conviction.

I didn’t feel like arguing the point, especially when I suspected he might be right. “Okay.” I looked at Claire sternly. “You want to tell me what’s been going on?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Hit the highlights.”

“Well, Heidar and I met at work—he’d come to bid on something—only my boss—you remember Matt, the gorilla in a suit?” I nodded. Her former boss at Gerald’s did look frighteningly like a shaved ape. “He’d decided to sell me to Sebastian, who’d finally tracked me down, only it didn’t work out quite like they’d planned. Heidar and I escaped into Faerie, but the damned Svarestri attacked us. We got away—you don’t even want to know how—and made it back to New York, but when I stopped by the house, Michael grabbed me for the bounty—” She stopped suddenly, looking stricken.

“Which you failed to mention to me.”

Claire rallied quickly. “I knew how you’d react, Dory! And you don’t know what the family is like. They’re… they can be very bad news.”

“So can I.”

“See!” Claire screeched. “See, I knew that’s what you’d say! You’d have gone stomping off—”

“I don’t stomp.”

“—to see Sebastian, and my slimy excuse for a cousin would have had you killed! He was surrounded by body-guards all the time, the little shit, and most of them were mages. With some of their spells, well, they can take down vamps, you know?”

“And we’re talking about him in the past tense because?”

“Oh, Heidar killed him,” she said, as an afterthought. I decided not to ask or we’d be here all night.

“So Michael kidnapped you and took you where?” I prompted.

“To Sebastian, for the bounty. Only of course Seb was dead and the family was busy fighting over the inheritance and couldn’t be bothered. Michael was actually pissed at me, like I’d asked him to kidnap me or something. But I told him I was carrying a half-Fey child and that its father was the king, and he couldn’t kill me then because the Fey would—”