Sam sneezed a quick agreement—or maybe it was just dust. I was worried it was just dust.

“Did he know they were coming and call Tad to warn me?” I asked. “Or did they make him call Tad, and he managed to leave a vague warning instead? Either way, isn’t it interesting that he didn’t say what it was I’d borrowed?”

I tapped my fingers on a bookcase that was still upright. “So maybe they don’t know it was a book, and he was afraid they could hear him—or they could read Tad’s message.”

Sam sneezed again. I glanced at him and saw the intelligent gleam that told me he was listening—and made me realize that he hadn’t been just a few minutes ago.

“Maybe they really are after something entirely different. It could even be that Phin got clever and sent them after me to throw them off the trail. He does know that I have more protection than most people.”

I let go of the bookcase so I could start pacing. “And this is where I’m going to be adding one and one and getting fifty—but bear with me.” I walked twice around the shop and came to a halt where I’d started in the first place.

“Assume that at some point yesterday, Phin breaks down and tells them exactly who I am: things like who I’m dating and how many people would be angry if they just came after me. This next part is the weakest part of my story, Sam, but my instincts are screaming at me that the incident with Kelly Heart this morning and what happened to Phin are connected—it’s that fae waiting up on the roof that makes me certain of it. I just don’t know exactly why they wanted me dead.”

Sam growled.

“Think about it,” I told him, as if I were sure that he was growling at the threat to me. “This isn’t the work of the Gray Lords. If it were, I’d be dead. We know there are at least three of the fae. Four if the woman on the roof of the storage building wasn’t Giant One . . . Five if the old woman I saw here earlier today, who may or may not be Phin’s grandmother, is one of them. But still, I don’t think it’s a huge group. It wouldn’t be a happy thing for them if the werewolves went out hunting them. So they set up an incident, and Kelly Heart’s producer is encouraged—by charm or by harm, as Zee would say—to send Kelly to my garage to find Adam.”

I stopped and looked out past the parking lot to the headlights of the cars driving by.

“If they were after Adam, there are better ways to find him than coming to my garage. He’s not hard to find. He goes to work six days a week, and his home address is a matter of public record. I had put it down to Heart’s producer looking for the best drama . . .”

I took a deep breath and gauged Sam for his reaction.

Sam’s stance—intent on my words—told me that he was making the leap with me. Or at least his wolf was. Just how smart was the wolf half of the werewolf?

“But things didn’t go quite as they planned. I disarmed Heart right off the bat. They could hardly shoot me while I held the gun I was supposed to be shot with, right? But when Adam showed up, then the police, they decided to try to create a little chaos: a feeding frenzy fueled by magic. But Zee took care of that—and spotted their shooter. They had to run from Ben and leave the field.”

I rubbed my damp palms on my thighs. “It sounds far-fetched, I know. But there is the book and the phone call to Tad that ties me to the fae who came into Phin’s bookshop and destroyed it. They beat Phin until he bled, then took off with him. Violence and fae—just like this morning. And the only common factor is me. Coincidences happen, I know. Maybe I’m just egocentric, thinking it’s all about me.”

I waited in the bookstore until I realized I was waiting for Samuel to say something. But Samuel wasn’t here: it was just Sam and me.

“Okay, that’s enough make-believe for me.” I dusted off my jeans. I’d have been hoping that I was wrong, but the way my life had been going the past year—this almost sounded tame. No vampires or ghosts, right? No Gray Lords who terrified even other fae. If I was wrong, I was afraid that it was only because the reality was even worse. “Let’s keep looking. I’d feel really dumb if Phin turns out to be hidden in the basement.”

Sam found a door behind about three bookcases. Happily, it opened away from us, so we just had to scramble over the top to drop to a landing. Straight ahead was a brick wall; to the right of the door we’d entered through was a set of narrow and steep stairs that led down into a pit of inky blackness: the bookstore had a basement.

I didn’t think that anyone would notice if I turned on the lights here because I was pretty sure that there weren’t any windows in the basement. I’d have noticed.

It took me a minute to find the light switch. Sam, apparently unfazed by the darkness, had already continued down on his own when my hand found the right place.

With light to guide my way, I could see that the basement was mostly a storage facility with cardboard boxes set in piles. It reminded me of the hospital’s X-ray storage room in that there was obvious order to the stacks. The ceiling height was deeper than usual for basements this near the river, but I could detect no trace of dampness.

Just to the right of the stairway, a section had been used as an office. A Persian rug delineated the space and stretched out beneath an old-fashioned oak desk complete with clamp-on desk lamp. There was a large framed oil painting of an English-type garden placed just in front of the desk, where someone sitting might use it as a mock window.

At one time the desk had held a computer monitor. I could tell because the monitor was lying in pieces on the cement floor next to the rug. There were more broken things on the ground—what looked to be the remains of a scentless jar candle, a mug that might have held the pens and pencils that had scattered when they hit the cement, and an office chair minus a wheel and the backrest.

“Be careful,” I told Sam. “You’ll end up with glass in your paws.”

The stack of boxes nearest the desk was the only one that had been disturbed. Five or six boxes had been knocked around, spilling their contents on the floor.

“No blood here,” I told him, and tried not to be relieved. I did not want to discover Phin’s body. Not while I was alone with Sam, the wolf. “They were just looking—and not very seriously at that. Maybe they were interrupted, or this is how far they got when Phin finally broke down and started to talk.”

“Fee fie foe feral,” said a man’s voice, hitting my ears like the blast of a barge’s horn. “I smell the blood of a little girl.” He rhymed “girl” with “feral,” something only possible because of his cockney-accented English. “Be she hot, be she cold, I’ll wager this, me lads—she won’t get more old.”

All I could see was two feet on the stairs. I’d had no warning that the man was in the building at all—and from Sam’s sudden movement, he hadn’t heard or smelled anything either. I had no idea that fae could hide themselves like that. No telling whether he’d been there all the time, or if he’d followed us in.

The fae was wearing big, black boots, the kind that should go clomp-clomp-clomp. And he was in no hurry to come down and kill us—which told me that he was one of the kind that enjoyed the hunt.

He wasn’t a giant, despite my facetious naming of the two forest fae, because the giants were beast-minded, more instinct than intelligent. The beast-minded fae who had survived the rise of metal-wielding humans had died at the hands of the Gray Lords. Instinctive behaviors weren’t good enough to make sure you’d hide your nature from the humans, and for centuries the fae had tried to pretend that they had never existed outside of folklore and fairy tales. But from the size of those feet, he was big enough.

Sam caught my attention by bumping his head against my hip—then ducked under the desk. He planned on taking the fae by surprise. Good to know Sam was still with me.