I smelled the hot meadowy scent of Jenks before I saw him, and I straightened, sliding down to make room. Jenks set the cardboard tray with two large coffees and a weenie-sized cup of steaming water that was an odd shade of pink onto the table. Herbal tea? I thought, claiming a coffee. Since when did Jenks like herbal tea?

I looked up from trying to pry the lid off my cup when Jenks pulled it out from my fingers. "Hey!" I said, and he put the lame cup of pink water in front of me. "I don't want tea," I said indignantly. "I want coffee."

"Diuretic." Jenks sat beside Brett. "It will do more harm than good. Drink your decaf tea."

Remembering our argument and thinking this was his way of getting back at me, my eyes narrowed. "I almost died back there," I said irately. "If I want a damn coffee, I'm going to have a damn coffee." Daring him to protest, I took my coffee with a huff.

Brett watched the exchange with interest. Eyebrows high, he reached for the second coffee, and Jenks intercepted his reach. The Were hesitated, then settled into his plastic seat with nothing. "What are you going to do with me, ma'am?" he said, the light twang in his voice obvious among the midwestern accents around us.

How in hell should I know? "Oh, I've got big plans for you," I lied, surprised at the ma'am. "Jenks wants to string you up as an object lesson. I'm halfway to letting him have his wish." I leaned back, tired. "It works great when he murders garden fairies."

Brett glanced warily at Jenks—who was nodding zealously—and I felt a weary lassitude slip over me. Crap. Why did the Brimstone pick now to wear off? A chill ran through me, tight on the heels of the idle thought that taking it to get through this week might not be a bad idea.

The Were's eyes traveled over me, hesitating at my torn turtleneck before rising to my face. From there, they never moved, but his focus kept shifting as he monitored the room by the sounds behind him. It gave me the creeps.

I sent my eyebrows up—wishing yet again that I could do the one eyebrow thing—casually tearing three packets of sugar open at once and dumping them in not because I liked it but because the coffee smelled that old. "I know where it is," I said lightly.

Just the fact that Brett didn't move said volumes. Jenks scowled, clearly not liking what I was doing, but I didn't want a hostage. I wanted to send Brett back with a message that would buy me some time and space. Now that the island Weres knew we were still in Mackinaw, they would keep looking until they found us. That we had Brett for a hostage wouldn't stop them—he had screwed up royally, and unlike the fairies that Jenks was used to dealing with, I think the Weres would just as soon see him dead—but maybe a show of goodwill and a big fat lie would buy us time enough to get my con in place.

I hoped.

"Sparagmos told you where it is," Brett said, his disbelief obvious.

"Of course he did," Jenks said, breaking his silence. "We've got it, and you don't."

Na, na, na, na-a-a-a, na. "I can put my hands on it," I amended, nudging Jenks's foot. Shut up, Jenks. I liked him better quiet. This was the last time we took a hostage.

Brett looked relaxed even though his one hand was cuffed under the table. Behind him, kids were fighting, hurting my ears. "Give it to me," he said. "I'll take it to Mr. Vincent and convince him to leave you alone."

Jenks jerked into motion, reaching for Brett. The Were blocked it. Someone hit a coffee and it spilled. Gasping, I stood when it threatened to run into my lap. "Damn it, Jenks!" I swore, pulling every eye to us. "What in hell are you doing?"

The restaurant was abruptly silent. A unified, "Ooooh," rose from the ball pit, and I flushed. Clear in the silence, the person coming over the loudspeaker wanted to know if he could substitute bottled water for the pop. I winced apologetically to the offended mothers speaking in hushed voices to their soccer-mom friends. "Sorry," I muttered. I sat down, and the level of noise resumed. Crap. That had been my coffee.

"You are in no position to be making deals or demands," Jenks said nastily as people turned away. "And if you or your mange-ridden curs touch her, you'll find everyone you care about dead one morning."

Brett's face went red.

"Just stop it," I griped, thinking this wasn't the way to arrange a cease-fire. But it told me I was right that Brett had to placate Walter with something to ease his return into the pack. Brett was in trouble; it wasn't only Jenks who wanted to kill him.

The small man's expression went sour and he settled back, clearly a lot more cautious now that he knew how fast Jenks could move. Heck, it impressed me.

"Look," I said, wedging a wad of napkins out of the dispenser and mopping up my coffee. I couldn't help but wonder if Jenks had done it intentionally. "All I want is Nick free from your reprisals. You can take Walter the stinking statue as far as I'm concerned."

Brett's dark eyes went suspicious. "You still expect me to believe you aren't working for someone and that you risked your life for…for him?"

My lips curled into a sour smile. "Don't call me stupid," I warned him. Jenks pushed the tea at me, and I ignored it. "I need a day to get the statue here," I lied. "A day to get it here and tie a pretty ribbon around it for you."

The tiny clink of his cuffs made Brett's eyes twitch. "You're going to give it to me," he said flatly.

I wrapped my fingers around my foam cup to hide their trembling. "Yup. And it was your idea too."

Jenks looked at me in bewilderment, and I smiled. "I want you to back off. All of you," I added, squeezing the tea bag to make a thin rivulet of red drain into the cup. I was thirsty, and if I made for that second coffee, Jenks would probably spill it too. "I don't need to leave town to get it. I can have it here by sunset tomorrow. Watch us if you want, but one sniff I think is too close and the exchange is off and we are gone." I leaned over my tea. "Jenks and I cleaned your clocks with a pipe and some stupid sleepy-time charms. You want to risk finding out what we're really capable of when all you have to do is wait a lousy thirty-six hours?"

"An exchange?" Brett mocked, and Jenks made an odd rumble, leaving me wondering if pixies could growl. "Seems to me like it's more of a payment for getting us to leave you alone."

In a smooth, unhurried motion, Jenks reached out and slapped him. "Seems to me you should pull the brains out of your ass."

"Jenks!" I exclaimed, glancing over the fishbowl of a restaurant to see if anyone saw him.

"He's a dead wolf!" Jenks protested, gesturing sharply. "I could slice him open and leave him for the maggots, and he thinks he has some leverage."

My eyes narrowed. "But we aren't going to do that. Stop hitting him."

"It's what they did to Nick," he offered, starting our argument anew. "Why are you giving him any consideration beyond the chunk of meat that he turned himself into by letting us take him hostage?"

Under the table my knees were shaking. "Because that's how we work when we're five feet tall, unless we're ignorant animals playing in the woods."

Jenks slumped back with his coffee to look sullen.

Brett's teeth were clenched at my unflattering comparison to his pack. Remembering what they had done to Nick, it was hard not to let Jenks have his way. Frustrated, I tried to hide my shaking fingers by taking a sip of my tart tea while Jenks continued to dump every last sugar packet into his coffee. I could scent his anger over the odor of french fries and bad coffee, like burnt acorns.

"I am going to give Walter the statue you couldn't retrieve through a week of torture," I said. "In return, you are going to convince Walter to give me Nick's life and not hold me responsible for Pam's death. You will leave all of us alone and not seek any retaliation. Ever." My eyebrows rose. "You do, and I'll come right back up here and take it back."