Ida waved him to silence, her bright eyes piercing mine. “It was Patrick, wasn’t it? Patrick and his wild stories. He likes to cause trouble—”

“Of course. That’s what hobgoblins do.” I moved closer, towering over her. “You don’t need to admit to anything, Ida. Just don’t insult me by denying it. I ran the DNA. I know the girls were switched. I know why. I know why I can see omens, too. Why Rose has the second sight. I know how the Larsens managed to lose me in the system. Another form of changeling magic. Not a switch of children, but of parents, which is the point anyway. Like a bird sneaking its eggs into another nest, hoping to give its offspring a better chance at survival, which sounds very sweet, except they’re just birds—they don’t care about their chicks, only about their blood, their lineage. Sound familiar?”

“That is not true, Olivia. Every parent cares—”

“Like Patrick? How he cares about Gabriel?”

Surprise flashed across her face. I lowered my voice again and made sure Gabriel was still talking to his aunt. “I know who Gabriel’s father is. I put the pieces together. Patrick didn’t tell me anything, so don’t blame him. I’ll blame him, though, for what he did to Gabriel. Like I blame you for nearly getting us killed tonight, and for the dead girl who’s being taken back to a morgue in Chicago, and for the dead girl I found in the Carew house—the one whose body you stole—robbing her parents even of the chance to bury her. I blame you for all of it.”

“No amount of explanation will convince you we are blameless. We aren’t. But you need to understand, even if you can’t agree with what we’ve done.” She laid her hand on my arm. “Give us a chance to explain.”

I looked into her eyes, and I felt the tug of her words. Maybe it was influence or fae charm. Maybe it was just me. I loved Cainsville. I loved my place here, my home here. I wanted an explanation that could put things right.

“Olivia?”

Gabriel’s voice made me jump. He took a step my way. Just a step. A question. Did I want him over here?

“He cares for you,” Ida murmured. “As you care for him.”

“Someone has to,” I snapped back. “God knows you didn’t.”

Did I imagine it or did she flinch?

“We tried—” she began.

“You wanted to switch him. Patrick wouldn’t allow it. That’s not what I mean. There are other ways of looking after your young, Ida. Human ways. But I guess that’s too much trouble. Pawn them off on someone else. Let them deal with the problems you inflicted, the problems your blood caused.”

“We—”

“Save the excuses. If I need answers”—I pulled the boar’s tusk from my purse and waggled it at her—“the Cŵn Annwn are more than willing to give them. That’s where I should have gone in the first place. Maybe I could have prevented all this.”

I walked away. She tried to call me back. Walter stepped into my path. That had Gabriel striding forward, clearing his throat in warning, and they backed off, settling instead for turning their pleas to him. We needed to talk. All of us. They would explain. This wasn’t what it seemed.

Gabriel steered me to Rose’s car. She stood outside the driver’s door, and I could tell this scene made her uncomfortable. She wanted us to listen to the elders. But when we got into the car, she climbed in and drove us back to Cainsville without another word.

I stood on the sidewalk outside my apartment building. Rose had retreated into her house. Gabriel was beside me, saying nothing, just letting me look up at the building in the gathering darkness.

“I can’t stay here,” I said.

“I’m sure Rose—”

“Cainsville, I mean. I can’t stay.”

Silence. I looked over, expecting him to argue, to tell me I was being foolish.

“I would agree,” he said. “For now.”

“Until we figure this out, it’s like living in enemy territory. Maybe that’s being dramatic—”

“It’s not. That’s why I suggested you quit at the diner. You are accepting their protection and their hospitality, which puts you in their debt now that you realize it.”

“I’ll take a few days off at the diner. And away from here. I’ll grab a hotel room while I sort this out.”

“You can, if you insist, but I have a better idea.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

I stood at the wall-sized window in Gabriel’s fifty-fifth-floor condo and fought the urge the press my nose against the glass. The night view was amazing. I swore I could see the entire city, lit up.

Gabriel poured drinks behind me. Two, judging by the tinkle of glasses. I suspected he might need one, and not because he could have died in a fiery crash tonight. That was, I think, easier than bringing me up here. But he’d survived both. So far.

He had suggested I stay at his place. He needed someone to check him in the night, and he’d already imposed on Rose with my fever last night. If I was willing to help him with that, he’d be happy to share his apartment for a few days.

I’m sure “happy” wasn’t quite the right word, but even as my gut had seized up, everything in me saying, “Hell, no, I won’t go through that again,” I’d seen in his expression that he was genuinely offering. More than that, he wanted me there. Which didn’t mean that I thought I’d actually make it through the door before he changed his mind. But as he’d waited for my answer, I realized it didn’t matter if he went through with it or not. This was about him, not me. I couldn’t make it about me. He wanted it. He was trying. That was enough.

So I’d agreed. I’d packed a bag while he went over to ask Rose if she’d keep TC for a few days. Gabriel drove my car so I could call Ricky, on the chance he’d hear about the crash and the shooting before I talked to him tomorrow. Then we’d arrived at Gabriel’s condo, came up the elevator, through the door, and … I was here. Looking at this amazing view while Gabriel fixed me a drink.

When he went quiet behind me, that sinking feeling started again. He was having second thoughts. Trying to think of a way to get me out, as politely as possible. I took a deep breath and lifted my gaze. I could see his reflection in the glass. He was just standing there, holding the glasses, watching me.

“Earlier,” he said as I turned. “At the crash site. You did know I was awake. That I had the gun.”

“Hmm?”

I took my drink from him. Scotch. Hard stuff, but I’d earned it.

“When you agreed to crawl back into the car. You knew I’d get the jump on her.”

It wasn’t a statement but a question, even if he didn’t phrase it that way.

“Mmm, not exactly. But I had a plan.”

A lousy plan. One that almost certainly wouldn’t have worked in my favor. But I didn’t say that because I could tell it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Good,” he said on a breath of relief, before taking a sip of his whiskey. Then he lowered the glass and caught my gaze. “Don’t put yourself at risk for anyone, Olivia. Ever. It isn’t worth it.”

That’s what he said, and while he meant it, what he was really saying was, “Don’t put yourself at risk for me.” I remembered when we’d faced Chandler’s goons, and Gabriel had wanted me to get to safety. Don’t stay for me, he’d said. I wouldn’t do it for you.

I’d believed him. And I hadn’t cared. Whether or not he’d have stayed, he’d put himself at risk for me many times since. Yet he didn’t want me doing it for him.

I’d said to myself once that Gabriel preferred a life where he felt as little responsibility for others as possible. That was true. But even more true is the fact that he preferred a life where others felt no responsibility for him.

“Quid pro quo,” Patrick had said when I first met him. You scratch my back and I scratch yours. Gabriel might have inherited that sense of fairness, of balance, but it went further with him. You stay away from me, and I’ll stay away from you. Do nothing for me, and I’ll do nothing for you. A clean slate was easier to balance than any accumulation of debts.