ONCE MOST EVERYONE ELSE WAS GONE, ADAM TOSSED the fae’s rifle into the backseat of his truck.

“I’ll see if I can’t find out something from the serial numbers,” he said. “The way she just left it probably means that she doesn’t think we can trace it to her anyway, but it would be stupid not to check.”

“You will be careful,” I told him.

“Sweetheart”—he bent down and kissed me—“I am always careful.”

“What’ll you give me if I watch out for him?” It wasn’t what Ben said; it was the way he’d said it. I have no idea how he made those words sound suggestive, but he managed it.

Adam shot him a look. Ben grinned unrepentantly and ducked around the side of the truck and hopped in.

“I was on the way to a job site when I got the call that something was up,” Adam told me. “I’ve got to get back.”

“No worries,” I said. “I’ll lock up. I don’t think I’ll be doing anything more here today.”

He opened his door, and stopped with his head turned away from me. “I’m sorry about your counter.”

I took a couple of steps forward until my nose pressed against his back and wrapped my arms around him. “I’m sorry about a lot of things. But I’m glad I have you.”

He hugged my arms. “Me, too.”

“Get a room,” said Ben from inside the truck.

“Stuff it.” Adam turned around, kissed me, and hopped in the truck.

Sam and I watched him drive away.

I STOPPED AT A SANDWICH SHOP AND BOUGHT TEN subs with double meat and cheese. Then I drove the Rabbit to the park on the Kennewick side of the river to eat. There wasn’t any snow yet, but it was a cold and dreary day so, other than some distant joggers and a serious-looking biker, we had the place to ourselves. I ate half a sandwich and drank a bottle of water. Sam ate the rest.

“Well, Sam,” I asked, when we were both finished, “what do you want to do today?”

He looked at me with interest, which didn’t help much.

“We could go run,” I told him as I threw our garbage into a can next to where I’d parked the Rabbit.

He shook his head with emphasis.

“Hunting not a good idea?” I asked. “I’d think it would help you to relax.”

He lifted his lips to display his fangs, then snapped his teeth five times, each snap faster, more savage, than the one previous to it. When he stopped, he was perfectly calm—except that I could see that he was breathing harder, and there was a deep hunger in his eyes even though he’d just eaten nine and a half feet of loaded submarine sandwiches.

“Okay,” I said after a pause to make sure my voice wasn’t shaking, “hunting is a bad idea. I get it. Something peaceful.”

I opened the passenger door to let him in and saw the towel-wrapped bundle on the backseat.

“Want to help me return a book?” I asked.

THE UPTOWN WAS BUSTLING WITH SATURDAY SHOPPERS, and I had to park a good distance away from the bookstore. I opened the door for Sam. He hopped out, then froze. After a second, he dropped his nose to the ground—but whatever he was looking for he didn’t find because he stopped and drew in a deep breath of air.

My nose is better than a normal human’s, if not as good as it is in my coyote shape. I took in a deep breath, too, but there were too many people, too many cars, for me to figure out what had set Sam off.

He shook himself, gave me a look I couldn’t fathom, and hopped back into the Rabbit. He flattened himself on the seat, stretching across the gap between and lowered his muzzle to the driver’s side seat.

“You’re staying here, I take it?” I asked. It must not be anything dangerous, or he wouldn’t let me go on my own—Sam with his wolf ascendant had always been even more protective of me than Samuel himself had.

Maybe one of the other werewolves was nearby. It would make sense for Sam to avoid them. I took another deep breath. I still didn’t scent anyone I recognized, but Samuel’s nose was better than mine outside of coyote shape.

I moved his tail out of danger and shut his car door. I opened the back door to get the book—and reconsidered. Phin’s neighbor might have been fae and faintly creepy, but that didn’t mean there was anything wrong. But there could be, and with Sam in the car, the book was just as safe here. If Phin was at the bookstore, I’d just come back and get it. If his neighbor or someone other than Phin was around instead, I’d regroup.

“I’m going to leave the book in the backseat,” I told Sam. “I should be right back.”

In the short time since we’d left the park, the temperature had dropped, and the wind had picked up. My light jacket wasn’t quite up to the wind and the damp. I gave the gray skies a good look—if it rained tonight and the temperature dropped much from here, we might have a good, hard freezing rain. Montana may have steep, windy roads that are nasty when covered with snow and ice, but those are nothing compared to the Tri-Cities when the freezing rain turns the pavement into a polished ice-skating rink.

I trotted through the parking lot and narrowly avoided getting run over by a Subaru that was backing out without looking. I kept an eye out for other idiots, and so it wasn’t until I stepped onto the sidewalk and looked up into the window of the bookstore that I saw a gray-haired woman behind the counter. I felt a frizzle of relief: she wasn’t the creepy neighbor.

I reached for the door and saw that the closed sign was still up—with an addition. Someone had taped a piece of white paper with UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE printed in thick black Sharpie.

While I hesitated, the woman inside gave me a cheery smile and walked up to the door, turning the dead bolt so she could open it. Her movements were surprisingly brisk and sprightly for a woman of her grandmotherly roundness and wrinkles.

“Hello, dear,” she said. “I’m afraid we’re closed today. Did you need something?”

She was fae. I could smell it on her—earth and forest and magic with a touch of something burning, air and salt water. I’d never smelled the like, and I’ve met two of the Gray Lords who rule the fae.

Most fae smell to me like one of the elements the old alchemists claimed made up the universe—earth, air, fire, and water. Never more than one. Not until this woman.

Her faded hazel eyes smiled into mine.

“Is Phin around?” I said. “Who are you? I haven’t seen you here before.” I wasn’t a regular customer; maybe she worked with Phin all the time. But I was betting she didn’t. If she’d helped often, I’d have smelled her in the store the first time I’d come here. I would have remembered if I’d caught her scent.

Lots of things scare me—like vampires, for instance. Since I’ve become more intimately acquainted with them, they scare me even more than they used to. I know that they can kill me. But I’ve killed one and helped to kill two others.

The fae . . .

In the most terrifying horror films, you never see what is killing people. I know that’s because the unknown is far scarier than anything some makeup or special-effects person can come up with. The fae are like that, their true faces concealed behind other forms—and designed to blend in with the human race and hide what they truly are.

This sweet-faced person who looked like someone’s grandmother might be one of those who ate children who were lost in the woods, or drowned young men who trespassed in her forest. Of course, it was possible that she might be one of the lesser or gentler fae—just as she looked. But I didn’t think so.

I’m smarter than Snow White: I wouldn’t be eating any apples she gave me.

She ignored my questions—fae don’t give out their true names—and said, “Are you a friend of his? You’re shivering. I don’t suppose it would hurt anything if you came in and sat down a bit to warm up. I’m just helping straighten out the books while Phin is gone.”