“Am I going to get my luggage back?” I asked, too nervous to sit there and be quiet.

“Of course, dear,” she said with another of those insincere smiles.

Just then, the door to the office opened. The guy in the coverall who’d taken my luggage popped his head in and waited for Grace’s attention. She looked up at him with an arched eyebrow.

“It’s confirmed,” he said.

For the first time, Grace’s smile looked entirely genuine.

“What’s confirmed?” I asked, the genuine smile for some reason freaking me out even more than the fake one.

“Why, your identity, dear. It seems you really are Seamus Stuart’s daughter.”

My jaw dropped. “How did you confirm that?”

“Allow me to introduce myself properly,” she said instead of answering. “My full name is Grace Stuart.” Her smile turned positively impish. “But you may call me Aunt Grace.”

I’m sure I was sitting there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open. Grace laughed at the expression on my face as I tried to pull myself together and think.

For the first time since I’d laid eyes on her, I looked past her uniform and her imposing manner to really see her. She was tall and model-thin, her body almost boyish in its lack of curves. Sort of like mine. My hopes that I would one day fill out were dwindling. Her pale blond hair was thick and lustrous, pulled back from her angular face into a braid that trailed down almost to the small of her back. Blue eyes just like mine, except hers had more of an upward tilt. A Fae tilt.

“You’re my dad’s sister,” I said, the words somewhere between a question and a statement.

Grace clapped her hands like I’d just performed a back flip. I felt my face steadily heating.

“Very good, my dear,” she said in a tone of voice that suggested I was just a bit on the slow side. “Seamus is, shall we say, indisposed at the moment. But he charged me with taking care of you until he is able to do so himself.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “If this is your idea of taking care of me, I’m probably better off taking care of myself.” I’m not usually that rude—certainly not to authority figures—but jet lag, stress, and confusion had combined to make my temper brittle at best. “You could have just introduced yourself from the start instead of scaring me half to death with your Gestapo routine.”

Grace blinked a couple of times. I doubted she was used to having anyone talk back to her, much less teenage human girls. The smile faded from her lips, and an arctic chill entered her eyes.

“A girl no one’s ever heard of comes marching into Avalon claiming to be the half-blood daughter of one of the great Seelie lords, and we’re just supposed to accept you with no questions asked?” she said, her voice as frosty as her eyes. “Seamus had no idea he’d sired a child on your mother, and while he might have been quick to accept you into his bosom as one of his own, it was certainly conceivable that you were an imposter.”

One of the great Seelie lords? My mom had said Dad was a big-deal Fae, but this sounded like more of a big deal than I’d imagined.

“While you and I chatted, my staff searched your bag for your hairbrush. They were able to determine that you truly are who you say you are.”

The violation of my privacy pissed me off, but I was also puzzled. “You were able to do a DNA test in, like, fifteen minutes?” I asked incredulously.

Grace gave me another of those looks that said I was obviously a little simpleminded. “Not a DNA test, dear.”

Oh. Magic. I’d kind of forgotten about that. My face heated with another blush. Grace was really good at making me feel like an idiot, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t by accident. I didn’t know what she had against me, but it was obviously something. My brain felt all fuzzy around the edges, and once again I longed for that cozy bed to curl up in. Despite my stress—and annoyance—a yawn forced its way out of my mouth.

Grace’s expression softened into something concerned and almost sweet-looking. I didn’t believe it.

“You poor thing,” she said. “You must be exhausted after your long trip.” She stood up, the movement inexplicably graceful. “Come.” I wondered if she knew she said it like she was talking to her favorite pet. “We must get you settled in so you can get some rest.”

I stayed seated, not sure what she meant. “So I’m free to go now?”

“I will arrange for another officer to fill in for me for a couple of hours,” she said in another one of her non-answers. “I’ll take you home. If you’d like to stop and grab something to eat first, just let me know. There are a number of lovely cafés very near my house.”

My stomach gurgled, but I wasn’t sure it was from hunger. One thing I knew for sure was I didn’t want to go home with Grace.

“Can you just drop me off at my dad’s house?” I asked, already knowing the answer would be no.

Grace made a sad face. “I’m afraid not, dear. He isn’t home at the moment, and I don’t have a key. But have no fear—you need only stay with me a day or two. Then your father will be ready to take you in.”

It sounded like I wasn’t going to have a choice in the matter, so I tried to resign myself to the idea. “Okay,” I said, standing up and hoping I didn’t sound too pouty.

“Splendid!” she said with false cheer.

Splendid? Who says “splendid” in this day and age? Of course, since Aunt Grace was Fae, I supposed she could be a zillion years old, even though she looked like she was in her mid twenties.

I followed Grace through a dizzying set of mazelike corridors. I couldn’t help noticing the security cameras that spied on our every move.

She stopped by what I think was a break room, based on the microwave and vending machines. A small group of uniformed officers sat around a table. Grace barked some orders at them—arranging for someone to cover for her during her field trip—and then we were wending our way through the corridors again.

Eventually, we came to a key-carded door. Aunt Grace swiped her card, and the door opened onto the parking lot that I had spotted when I’d been standing in line. She guided me to an elegant black Mercedes. The car was so pristine she could have driven it off the lot five minutes ago. It had that lovely new car scent, somewhat spoiled by the tacky, rose-shaped car freshener that hung from the rearview mirror. At least it wasn’t one of those pine-tree taxi-cab specials.

“Your bag is in the trunk,” Aunt Grace told me before I had a chance to ask. Then she started the car and we were on our way.

The bridge over the moat was a narrow, two-lane affair, and the guard rails on the side looked kind of flimsy to me. Maybe that was just because the moat’s murky, nasty water gave me the creeps.

Trying to ignore the water, I glanced over my shoulder—a bit wistfully—at the gatehouse that marked the border between Avalon and the mortal world. A part of me was already wishing I’d never set foot out of my mom’s house. Yeah, it majorly sucked living with her, taking care of her, lying to all my friends about her. But at least she was the devil I knew.

A wave of nausea rolled over me, and my vision went momentarily blurry. I turned back around to face front.

“Is something wrong?” Grace asked.

I shook my head and swallowed past the nausea. “I’m just jet-lagged and stressed out and maybe even a little motion sick.” I wondered if she’d mind me barfing in her shiny new car. I bet the answer was yes.

“What did you mean when you said my father was ‘indisposed’?” I asked her as my stomach—luckily—settled down.

“He’s had a spot of … legal trouble, I suppose you’d call it.” The Mercedes began its smooth, effortless ascent of the steep two-lane road that spiraled up the mountain. “But don’t worry. Everything should be cleared up in a day or two. And I’ll take good care of you until he’s home.”