Chapter 17

A female servermet us just inside the back door and hustled us up some back stairs to the room we'd used earlier. Apparently, Charles didn't want us traipsing through the bar covered in shifter blood. As I'd noticed some shifters in the crowd downstairs, it seemed like a good decision.

I washed my bloody clothes by hand in the sink with detergent provided by Lucy, and showered while she got our bags from the locked storage closet. I scrubbed myself from head to toe and rinsed with cold water to help wake up.

As I washed, my thoughts about the Broken World versions of Charles and Hawthorne's forced me to contemplate something I'd deliberately avoided thinking or talking about since I'd found out I would travel to another world. The moment Adam explained this world was very like our own, other than the fractured boundaries between the mundane and supernatural realms, I'd immediately wondered if an Ava Selene Murphy, granddaughter of Moses Murphy, existed here—and just as quickly banished those thoughts. If she did, she was not me.

As we prepared the spellwork for the mirror travel, Malcolm had wondered aloud whether some version of himself lived in this world, and if so, whether that Malcolm's life had been better, worse, longer, or shorter than his own. Almost immediately, he'd come to the same conclusion I had: that it would be better not to know. We'd made a pact not to try to find out, and I still believed that decision was for the best. If anyone else we knew existed here, I didn't want to find them, and I didn't want to know. I saw no version of events where that knowledge would do anyone any good.

When I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel with another around my hair, Lucy had stripped to her underwear. She was well-muscled, with no visible tattoos. She was battle-scarred from head to toe. One scar on her abdomen must have been very nearly a fatal wound.

I wondered, belatedly, if there were no healing spells here. I had a variety of healing spells with me, but I wasn't sure if they would work, given no other magic I had seemed to work right except the sorcerer power. Or maybe Lucy had kept her scars by choice. She seemed like the type who would.

Daisy was curled up on the sofa, her eyes half-lidded. "Where's Malcolm?" I asked.

Lucy grinned. "He skedaddled when I took off my pants, bless his heart. I told him I didn't care, but he muttered something about ‘the rules' and flitted out of here like his ghost ass was on fire."

"He's really careful about not spying on people. He says he knows ghosts who do that and it really bothers him. Plus, when we were first together, he and I established some rules about not coming into my room unannounced after he scared me to death once when I got out of the shower."

"I like your ghost. He's got manners and a sense of humor. Most of the ghosts I know are jerks." She collected her bloody clothes to wash and clean ones to change into. "Let me get cleaned up and then we'll get the hell out of here. Joey will be up soon with our travel pack. It's already paid for." She went into the bathroom and shut the door.

I dressed quickly, opting to wear the same clothes I'd worn when I arrived in the Broken World rather than use my last clean shirt and pants. I'd only packed two sets of clothes, since that was all the room I had left in the backpack after packing the other items I needed. My toiletry bag was decidedly minimalist: travel-sized two-in-one shampoo/conditioner, moisturizer, soap, and deodorant. I also had a first-aid kit, my Smith Wesson with silver bullets, assorted magic implements—which might or might not work here—and a photo of Sean and me.

I used my towels to wring as much water from my hand-washed clothes as I could and sniffed them. They smelled clean, thanks to the detergent. I put them in a plastic bag and reorganized and re-packed my backpack so I would be ready to leave when Lucy finished cleaning up.

With my packing done, I sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Daisy. She raised her head. "We have to learn to communicate," I told her. "We can talk to each other when you're inside me, so there has to be a way to share thoughts. Either that, or you need to return to my body so you can explain what we're doing and why you think Ronan should have come with us."

She curled her lip. Clearly, she enjoyed her newfound freedom and didn't want to give it up.

I reached for her. She growled.

"I'm not going to force you back in," I promised. "I want to try speaking to you again."

She remained still as I held her head in my hands, my fingers combing through her thick fur. I closed my eyes and reached for the golden thread I sensed between us. Unlike my strong connection to Malcolm, it was thin and insubstantial. Our bond was too new, too undeveloped to allow me to share thoughts with her. Damn it.

Maybe I could strengthen the bond. I lowered my shields and focused on that thin golden thread of shifter magic. I reached for the earth magic around me, and instantly regretted it.

The pain was like falling into a dumpster full of cheese graters. Everything hurt. My skin, my bones, every nerve and cell sent out distress calls to my brain. My earth magic—my body, even—was on a different frequency than the magic here, so much so that even using it as ambient energy was agonizing.

My instinct was to slam my shields back in place and end the pain, but I refused to give up. Magic was magic. I sensed it pulsing all around me with potential and power, and that meant I could learn to use it.

Until then, I couldn't just funnel it into my tenuous bond with Daisy; it would do nothing to help, and might hurt her. Instead, I drew on the magic within me I knew I could use and tried to strengthen our bond.

Daisy snarled and moved out of my reach.

I raised my shields, blinked until I could focus, and frowned. "What's wrong?"

She chomped the air between us, her eyes glowing.

"Alice? You okay?" Malcolm asked from near the door. He'd apparently returned while I was focused on Daisy.

I got to my feet with a grimace, using the couch to stand. "I'm trying to strengthen our bond, but I haven't learned to use the magic here yet. And when I tried to use my own magic, she wouldn't let me."

"Could be a couple of reasons for that." He walked over to the sofa. "Maybe she wants you to conserve the magic and power you do have." He glanced at the closed bathroom door and lowered his voice. "Or she's worried about that dark magic you've got and doesn't want it transferring to her."

"She has physical form because of that magic," I pointed out, also in an undertone. Lucy was singing quietly to herself in the bathroom as she got dressed, but I didn't want to risk being overheard. "She was born of it."

He shook his head. "She has none of that black magic in her aura like you do. The power you absorbed from Mira? gave her a physical form, but she's unaffected by the dark magic. I think that little chomp means she doesn't want it. You'd best learn how to use the ambient power here if you want to strengthen your bond. Your magic is tainted."

At my expression, his eyes widened. "I didn't mean that. Wait—"

The bathroom door swung open. Lucy came out in a clean black T-shirt, BDU pants, and boots, her Guardian seal around her neck and damp hair in a ponytail. Her wet clothes were in a plastic bag. She eyed us. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Actually—" Malcolm began.

"No, we were done," I cut in. "I'm ready to go if you are." I picked up my backpack. Malcolm hovered near the sofa, looking stricken.

Lucy went to her duffel bag. "Okay, then. They come by with our food and drinks yet?"

"Not yet. I guess I'll go downstairs and check on that. Meet you out back." I headed for the door with Daisy on my heels.

I opened the door and came face-to-face with Charles. He stood in the hallway holding three drawstring cloth bags in one hand, his fist raised to knock. He'd traded in his T-shirt for a clean button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves and combed his hair. Music, shouts, and laughter drifted upstairs from the bar.

"Were you listening outside the door?" I demanded.

"Not at all. I only just arrived." He smiled. "Forgive the delay in delivering your supplies. Our kitchen is short-staffed tonight."

"It's fine." I reached for the bags.

He held them out of reach. "May I escort you to your vehicle?"

I had no desire to be alone with him, but I was stung by Malcolm's comment and wanted to take a walk. I shrugged. "It's your roadhouse, Charles. Lead the way."

He tilted his head. "You look at me as though we know one another and speak with such familiarity. I would swear I have never set eyes upon you before tonight."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I apologize, Mr. Vaughan. It's been a long day and I'm tired."

"I am not offended, only intrigued." He offered me his arm. "Allow me to have a word in private."

This wasn't the Charles Vaughan I knew, but he was a vampire and I'd be foolish to let my guard down around him. I figured my new bodyguard would like the taste of vampire just fine if he got any funny ideas.

After a hesitation, I tucked my hand into the crook of his elbow. "Sure. Come on, Daisy."

As my wolf joined us in the hall, Lucy looked up from packing her duffel. "We'll be along in a few minutes." Her voice held a note of warning, presumably directed at Charles.

Malcolm was clearly unhappy to be left behind. I shut the door of the room.

Charles led me down the hall toward the back stairs. Daisy followed. "Any trouble with the rest of the band when you told them their drummer was deceased?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Initially, they were very angry. I showed them their comrade's wanted poster, and their anger turned to shock and horror. They had no idea he was a predator. They believed he was, and I quote, ‘a very laid-back dude, for a shifter.' His only failing, as far as they knew, was a penchant for leaving a trail of broken hearts."

"It was a trail of ruined lives, not just broken hearts. The bastard."

"Indeed."

We descended the back stairs and went out the back door. Someone had soaked the gravel area where the werewolves had died with water mixed with some kind of chemical to remove all traces of the carnage. Daisy sniffed the wet gravel and curled her lip.

When we reached the jeep, Charles put the bags on the hood, turned his back to the building, and lowered his voice. "You must be cautious. There are those, even among the unbound, who would send you back to your mistress, hoping for a reward."

I frowned. "I have no mistress."

"I sense your binding. She who bound you has great power and dark magic, and must have enormous influence. You cannot outrun her for long. She will send people to bring you back. They may well kill your companions and anyone they believe gave you shelter."

"Then why give us rooms?"

"I am a gambler." He flashed a hint of fang. "And I am curious about you and your beautiful wolf."

Daisy showed him her own sharp teeth, but didn't put her ears back.

"Not much to tell you about us, other than we're traveling with Lieutenant Stone for a while. And no one will be coming after me," I added. "The binding you sense…it's not what you think. I'm not running from her; I'm investigating on her behalf."

"Interesting." His lips brushed my ear. "How have we met before, Alice? You must tell me." His words were accompanied by a nudge of vampire suggestion. Through my shields, it was nothing more than a tickle.

He smelled of cigarettes and beer. Under that odor I recognized the familiar scent of wine I knew so well. This Charles had never betrayed, bitten, or hurt me, but anger and grief for what the other Charles had done left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"I've never met you before tonight," I said. If he could sense deception like Charles back home, he'd sense the truth in my words. "I was much too familiar with you earlier, and I apologize. All I can say is that I've had a long day and I forgot my manners."

"I have enjoyed your familiarity and hope for more." His eyes silvered. There was the Charles I knew, or thought I'd known: wealthy bar owner and seducer of dangerous brunettes. "I caught the scent of a shifter on your things. You must have encountered one on your travels. Surely you do not have a brute as a lover."

Though I knew shifters here were much different than back home, I still didn't like hearing Sean called a brute when he was anything but.

I stepped back. "Who I choose to sleep with is hardly your business, Mr. Vaughan."

Several emotions flashed in his eyes: surprise, dismay, even a hint of revulsion. Resentful of his judgment, I opened my mouth, then closed it. I didn't owe this Charles—or any version of him—an explanation for anything, least of all for who I loved.

The back door opened. "You two look cozy," Lucy said. She headed in our direction with Malcolm at her side, her duffel over her shoulder and several small cloth bags in her hand. "I ordered two travel bags of food and water. What's in the third bag?"

"Food for Alice's magnificent wolf companion, compliments of the house." He gave her a smile, again flashing his fangs. "In hopes you may find your way back here again and indulge in another full night's stay under my roof."

"Much appreciated. I never know where work might take me, and your rooms are much better than a lot of other places I've stayed." She tossed her duffel and the smaller bags into the back seat. "Let's roll, Alice. We have a long drive ahead of us, and the road is dangerous at night."

"If you are heading south toward Oakdale, travelers tell me Donestre are hunting along the highway," Charles warned. "Have care."

"Always. See you next time, Charles." She climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. The jeep started with a rumble.

Charles opened the passenger door for me. "I wish you safe travels." His voice was decidedly chilly. Apparently, knowing I had slept—or was sleeping—with a shifter unnerved him a great deal. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did, though I wasn't exactly sure why.

"Thanks for the hospitality," I told him. "Hawthorne's is quite a place."

"Indeed it is. Farewell."

I got into the jeep, put the bags of food and my backpack on the floor at my feet, and shut my door. He stepped back and lit a cigarette, his expression thoughtful.

Daisy sat in the back seat behind Lucy. Malcolm floated behind me, his uneasiness and unhappiness buzzing on the edge of my senses. I knew we needed to talk, but not in front of Lucy—and not until I was less angry and hurt.

Lucy shifted into gear and headed in the direction of the front parking lot. She gave Charles a wave. He raised his hand and watched as we drove away into the night.

* * *

The bright lights, loud voices, and full parking lot of Hawthorne's were an oasis of relative safety. As Lucy turned onto the highway and accelerated away from the roadhouse, the pitch black of night closed in on our jeep. All kinds of potential dangers, most of which were entirely unknown to me, filled the darkness around us. Lucy remained on high alert, as did Daisy.

Once the roadhouse disappeared from view in the rearview mirror, Lucy switched from standard headlights to a different set. They were brighter than the standard lights, with a bluish tint, and they illuminated not just the road in front of us, but the sides of the road as well.

"What are those lights?" I asked.

She kept her eyes on the road and our surroundings. Her caution upped my anxiety level considerably. "We call them supe lights. You'll see a lot of them around buildings and in towns, but they're not common on civilian vehicles."

"What do they do?"

"You'll see for yourself soon," she told me. "Just watch."

I didn't have to wait long to get my answer. Ahead, on our right, the silhouette of a man appeared alongside the road. He glowed in the supe lights. "A ghost," Malcolm said in wonder. We passed the ghost so closely he could reach out and touch the jeep as we went by.

Something large and dark moved in the trees on the other side of the road. I didn't get a good look at it, but I thought it might have been one of the raccoon-bears that had tried to attack us the previous night.

"The supe lights make it easier to spot supernatural creatures," I said.

She nodded. "During the day, too. Some things can change shape or use glamour to look like something else. The supe lights let you see beyond the glamour in most cases and reflect different wavelengths and colors if something is supernatural."

"Ghosts glow white?" Malcolm asked.

"It's more of an opalescent glow," Lucy told him. "With the supe lights on, we'll see all kinds of spirits. I kind of tune them out, since I'm keeping an eye out for bigger, nastier things."

"Like the Donestre?" I asked. "What are those?"

"Definitely something you want to avoid. They prey on travelers, especially people traveling alone. Their natural form looks like a human male with long hair, green eyes, and furry ears, though they've been known to cut their hair short and hide their ears with hats."

"You said they prey on travelers," Malcolm said. "What do they do?"

"Eat them," Lucy said matter-of-factly. "Everything but the head. They leave that behind. That's how you know it was a Donestre kill."

"Yikes," Malcolm said.

"Yup." She glanced at me. "So, obviously I have some questions. I'm sure you do too."

"So many, it's difficult to pick which ones to ask. I'll start with maybe an easy one: can I have a magical invisible sword?"

"Do you know how to fight with a sword?"

"Sure. The pointy end goes in the bad guy."

Lucy chuckled. "You're not wrong, though sometimes it's harder than you might think to know who the bad guys are." She sobered. "Then again, if you're a mage, you probably knew that. Actually, the sword itself isn't magical. My ability to hide my sword is part of my Guardian heritage."

"I wondered if there was more to being a Guardian than just joining up," Malcolm said. "Can you tell us more about the League?"

"The origin of the Guardians is rooted in myth. The legend says that Cadmus, founder of the city of Thebes, slayed a water dragon that killed many of his soldiers. On the goddess Athena's advice, he planted the dragon's teeth. From the earth rose a legion of fierce and bloodthirsty warriors, the Spartoi. They were vicious—so much so that Cadmus supposedly attempted to wipe them out by setting them against each other. Those who could better control their bloodlust survived. They were faster and stronger than humans, able to go long periods without food or water, and train for days without tiring."

"Sounds like a scary bunch," Malcolm said. "If all that's true."

She shrugged. "No one has ever come up with an alternate explanation for the Spartoi's existence—and by extension, the existence of the Guardians. Their children, both male and female, inherited the Spartoi's physical strength and abilities. Their most sacred law forbade them to marry or have children with anyone who did not have Spartoi blood. They wanted to prevent their abilities from disappearing through intermarriage with humans. The penalty for breaking that law was death—for the Spartoi, their lover, and their lover's entire family. It was ruthlessly enforced. That, as much as their reputation for slaughtering not only their enemies but anyone who got in the way, led to their well-deserved reputation for cruelty."

"So where do the Guardians come into play?" I asked.

"After Cadmus's death, the Spartoi and their descendants split into different groups. Some became mercenaries, protecting kingdoms and wealthy families. Others joined the Knights Templar. One group dedicated itself to protecting humans from various supernatural threats and became the League of Guardians."

"A-ha," I said. "Now it makes sense."

"The modern League operates like a branch of the military and serves as law enforcement for nonhumans. Our jurisdiction is the entire United States. We go when and where we're needed, usually either in pairs or teams, to deal with supernatural beings and creatures who cause problems."

"And the Spartoi?" Malcolm wanted to know. "Are they still around?"

"Unfortunately, yes. They work as individual operatives or mercenaries, generally. Some of them belong to a guild called the Brotherhood of Cadmus. When they're hired to deal with a supernatural problem, they tend to kill first and not bother to ask questions later. Collateral damage doesn't bother them. The end always justifies the means. Sometimes we're forced to work together, but the League and the Spartoi despise each other."

"I can see why," I said. "They sound just as nasty as the creatures you have to deal with."

"You're not wrong. With any luck, you won't cross paths with any while you're here."

"So that's why you looked at me funny when I asked how you became a Guardian," Malcolm said suddenly. "No one joins the Guardians—you either have Spartoi blood, or you don't."

"Guardian blood," she corrected. "Not Spartoi."

"Sorry. No offense."

She blew out a breath. "I wanted nothing to do with the Guardians, and I sure as hell don't want to be lumped in with the Spartoi. I'm only half Guardian. My father was a Guardian. My mother isn't."

"Do the Guardians not have the same policy as the Spartoi about children?" I asked.

"They had the exact same policy, up until the last few years, when the League underwent some major changes. Before that, it didn't matter what a Guardian wanted, or who they loved. They wanted to protect the Guardian abilities at all costs, and they were a bunch of elitist assholes to boot. I was never supposed to be born. The Guardians made my life a living hell because of it. But my father loved my mother, and they wanted a baby, and here I am." She smiled—a real, genuine smile. "I got my Guardian abilities from my dad, my connection to the afterlife from my mom, and my stubbornness from both of them."

"You said you joined up after someone you knew was murdered," I said. "Was it your father?"

Her hands flexed on the wheel. "I'd rather not talk about that, if it's all the same to you. Those wounds are still pretty raw."

"No problem." I knew all about those kinds of wounds. I spotted several more ghosts along the road in front of us, glowing in the jeep's supe lights. "I'm used to sensing ghosts, but not to seeing them everywhere."

"Welcome to my world," Lucy said with a chuckle. "I mean, literally, welcome to my world. We're got a three-hour drive to Oakdale. It's easier for me to drive and listen than talk. What are things like where you're from?"

"A lot less crazy," I admitted. "For starters, we don't have dragons."

"Weeeeeeird," she breathed. "I can't imagine…really? No dragons at all?"

"Oh, it gets weirder than that," Malcolm said. "No Donestre, no spider-people, no trolls, no talking bats, and no witch territories. And Alice is shacked up with an alpha werewolf."

"He's cute, though," I added. "He owns a security company and he almost never kills anyone."

Lucy drove for a few beats in silence.

"Your world sounds kind of broken, to be honest," she said finally.

Malcolm snorted. "Funny you should say that."

* * *

For two hours Lucy drove, on high alert for roadside dangers, while Malcolm and I told her what life was like back home.

We encountered numerous ghosts, more of the raccoon-things, which Lucy said were called lotoru, and a number of shadowy creatures that eluded the vehicle's bright supe lights. We saw no men with long hair and furry ears—and no other vehicles except a convoy of trucks guarded by armed soldiers in jeeps, heading back the way we'd come. Lucy identified the trucks as belonging to a shipping company.

Of all the differences between her world and ours, she marveled most at the ease of travel, especially air travel, and how little the existence of supernatural beings impacted the daily life of most humans. Clearly, she had as much difficulty picturing such a world as I'd had visualizing hers when Adam first described it to me.

"Imagine not being able to travel by airplane because of dragons," Malcolm said, shaking his head.

"They tend to go after planes during takeoff and landing," Lucy explained, her eyes scanning our surroundings. "Once a plane reaches a certain height, it's safe because most dragons can't fly above eight thousand feet. Below that they'll take the planes down, either trying to get at the people inside, or just for fun. All outgoing and incoming flights have to have gunship escorts, and airport command towers have to monitor radar and spotter reports about dragon activity in the area. Flights are very expensive, so most civilians drive if they need to travel—usually in convoys and during the day."

I would never take the ability to run to a convenience store at two in the morning for ice cream for granted ever again. In fact, there were a lot of things I wouldn't take for granted anymore after being here, like being able to take a near-spontaneous vacation to the Bahamas with Sean. Not that I remembered that vacation, of course, thanks to Mira? stealing my memories. Sean had promised to take me back to the Caribbean to make new ones. I wasn't sure which of us hurt more over those lost memories.

Thinking about Sean and my missing memories would do nothing but make me sad, so I focused on spotting creatures in the woods and answering Lucy's questions about our world.

Given the dangers that lurked along the road, I expected an attack on our vehicle at any moment. Lucy noticed my anxiety. "Most critters are smart enough to stay clear of League vehicles," she told us. "They wait for easier pickings to come along. We're not safe out here, but we're less likely to be attacked than civilians."

As it turned out, our route to Oakdale took us through another coven's territory. These were white witches, Lucy explained, and wouldn't mind our passage—especially since she had planned ahead and brought gifts.

Even if I hadn't seen the runes carved into the trees and painted on the road, I would have known when we crossed the coven's border because their wards flared and scraped across my skin. I winced and rubbed my arms.

About a mile past the wards, Lucy slowed. Ahead, a tiny figure in a dark hooded cloak waited near the side of the road, sitting on a tall chair inside a small shelter, with a basket on their lap. I saw no car or other structures nearby, but lights glowed deeper into the forest. Houses were hidden back in the trees.

"It's like a spooky little toll booth," Malcolm said over my shoulder. "You sure these are white witches?"

"Pretty sure," Lucy said as she pulled to the side of the road and stopped. "I've never been through here myself, but the Guardian intel says they are." She reached behind her seat for one of the small cloth bags she'd brought from the roadhouse.

The little sentinel slid down from the chair and headed for us, basket in hand, their face and body entirely hidden by the cloak and hood. I wondered who or what had come out to meet us.

My window whirred down. "Merry meet," Lucy called.

"Merry meet," a child's voice responded. She set the basket on a tree stump next to our jeep. Small hands reached up and flipped back the hood, revealing a small girl of about ten, with braided dark hair and amethyst jewelry.

Given the dangers that lurked in this world, some might be surprised to find a child—or even an adult—by herself at night. Age and size had little to do with power when it came to magic, however, as I knew very well. Multiply that by the fact her coven thought her capable of defending herself, and it was crystal clear underestimating this girl would be a very bad idea.

She climbed up on the stump so she could look in my window. "I'm Torryn. Welcome, Guardian," she said to Lucy. She inclined her head toward Daisy, sitting on the back seat. "Welcome, caretaker wolf. Welcome, earthbound spirit," she added to Malcolm.

"Merry meet," Malcolm said, very respectfully.

Torryn turned to me, her expression solemn. "You bring black magic here, Alice. While you are welcome, the darkness you carry isn't."

First Malcolm, now a witch I didn't even know. "Hey, I didn't ask to have this magic dumped on me," I said.

Her brow furrowed. "You haven't cast it out."

I started to protest that I had no idea how to do that, but she glanced back at Lucy, ignoring me. "You have something to share with my coven?"

"I do." Lucy handed me the little bag. I passed it to Torryn.

She opened the drawstring and peeked into the bag. To my surprise, she giggled and bounced up and down with glee. Then she caught herself, stilled, and assumed a more dignified expression. "Thank you, Guardian," she said formally. "This is very thoughtful." She slipped the bag into a hidden pocket in her cloak.

"How did you know to expect us?" I asked.

"I saw you in my bowl," Torryn said simply. She must have the gift of scrying.

"And how did you know my name?"

She smiled in the same way Carly did when I asked her questions. "I have gifts, same as you…and curses, same as you." Her smile faded. "My coven sisters advised me not to speak to you because of the black magic, but I don't always listen. Our High Priestess trusts my judgment. They should too." I caught the odor of burned paper—the telltale scent of angry witch.

"Why do you want to talk to me?" I asked.

"Because when I know something about someone, I don't like to keep it to myself." She frowned. "It itches if I do."

"You're clairvoyant," Lucy said. "My cousin and aunt say the same thing—usually right before they tell someone something they don't want to hear."

Torryn shrugged. "I can't control what I see. If you want to know what I saw in my cards and my bowl, I'll tell you." She held out her hand.

At first, I thought she wanted me to touch her palm. When I hesitated, she made a face. "Seeing things is hard work," she said pointedly.

Understanding dawned. I reached into my backpack and took some cash from the wallet provided by the Court. I put it in her hand carefully. Many clairvoyants received visions from skin contact, and I had no desire to let Torryn get a glimpse into my past.

The cash disappeared into a pocket. "I saw three things. Always three things," she added under her breath. "You need two others to reach your destination. The first is a man you met tonight who is not a man, who carries two swords and serves no one."

Lucy muttered a curse. "Ronan."

I turned to look at Daisy. She stared at me, as if to say, Told you so.

Damn it, and he'd ridden off on his Harley, probably never to be seen again. I turned back around. "Who's the other person we'll need?"

Torryn picked up the basket and handed it to me. "Leave the cover on. She's sleeping."

I blinked. The basket weighed only about four pounds, and its contents were hidden by a purple blanket that shimmered with silver threads and magic. From under the blanket, I heard a tiny snore. "What on earth is this?" I asked.

Torryn smiled, suddenly mischievous. "A pū?is. Don't wake her up."

I didn't know what that was, but Lucy's mouth fell open. For the first time since I'd met her, she seemed flabbergasted. "That's a treasure," she croaked.

The young witch's expression grew solemn. "Some of my coven sisters will be mad I gave her to you, but I know what I saw in my bowl."

"I can't take a treasure from you," I protested, still unsure of what I'd been given. "And I'm in no position to care for a pet."

Torryn stared at me. I smelled that burned-paper scent again. The thing in the basket moved around, settled back down, and resumed snoring.

Lucy coughed. "Just say thank you, Alice."

Malcolm poked me in the shoulder.

"Thank you," I said helplessly. "Does she have a name?"

"Not yet—that's for you to choose." Torryn folded her hands. "Give her a strand of your hair when she wakes up."

"A strand of hair. Okay. So, I'll need Ronan and this pū?is. What's the third thing?" I asked.

"You have come here with three goals. You will succeed at none of them." After a moment, Torryn added, "Sorry."

I did have three goals: stop Mariela from unleashing the Furies, return the scroll to Valas, and bring back Mariela to answer for her theft.

Malcolm's fear and fury at the prospect of being trapped here prickled on my skin. My own response was anger and denial. "I'm not going to fail," I told Torryn.

"I didn't say you would fail," she countered. "You just won't get done what you came here to do. Nothing is ever as simple as winning or losing, Alice. You should know that."

Damned if Torryn didn't sound just like Carly when she said that. She was right—I should know better.

Chastised, I pondered the basket on my lap. "Thank you," I said finally. "For the gift, the information you've shared, and meeting us here."

"You're welcome." She raised a dagger with a beautiful jeweled handle and blade etched with runes and pointed it at me. "No black magic within the borders of our territory, under any circumstances."

I didn't ask or what, because the answer was obvious. "I understand."

The blade disappeared under her cloak. "Since you've used the black magic, you'll have to cut it out to get rid of it. The longer you wait, the more you'll have to cut."

"Metaphorically speaking?" I asked.

She looked at me.

I swallowed. "I guess not."

She pulled up her hood. "Safe travels to you all, and blessed be."

"Blessed be," Lucy said. Malcolm and I repeated her words.

Torryn hopped off the stump and walked away without looking back. In seconds, she'd disappeared in the trees. The little shelter and chair vanished like mist.

"That was the witchiest thing I've ever seen," Malcolm said. "As theatrical exits go, hers was a solid ten. And I thought I was dramatic at that age."

I wrapped my arms around the basket to hold it steady as Lucy rolled up my window and shifted into gear. "So what's a pū?is?" I asked.

She pulled back onto the road, flipped on the supe lights, and accelerated. "House dragon."

"House dragon?" Malcolm squeaked.

The purple blanket rustled. A gray kitten poked her nose out and peered up at me with two emerald eyes. "Rrrrrr?" she inquired.

"That looks like a cat," Malcolm said, nonplussed.

"Now she does." Lucy chuckled. "Just wait."

Remembering Torryn's instructions, I pulled a strand of hair out and offered it to the kitten. A little paw emerged from the blanket and swiped the hair from my fingers. Magic I'd never felt before tingled on my skin. It was light violet, with threads of purple. Fae magic. The pū?is must have originated in the fae realm. I had a fae kitten-dragon in my lap. Sean was never going to believe any of this.

The kitten disappeared back under her covers. A loud purr, edged with a growl, drifted out of the basket.

"I have a house cat-dragon," I said, just so I could hear the words out loud.

"It might be more accurate to say she has you," Lucy said.

Oh, goody. The basket vibrated with the pū?is's growly purr.

"What do you think about what Torryn said, about you not succeeding?" Lucy asked me.

"I think we're still going to do our damnedest to do what we came here to do," I told her. "We've beaten the odds before. And if I've learned anything about seeing into the future, it's that nothing is set in stone. Always in motion is the future."

Malcolm snorted. "Did you just quote Yoda?"

I shrugged. "You quoted Obi-Wan Kenobi earlier, so I thought it was only fair."

Lucy frowned. "Who's Yoda?"

Malcolm flitted. "You mean you don't have Star Wars here?"

She laughed. "Relax, I was only kidding. Of course we do. This is the Broken World, not the Sad, Empty World."

I sighed. "Don't scare us like that, Lucy."

"I had you going there for a minute though, right?" She grinned.

"Not cool, dude," Malcolm said, shaking his head. "So, have you come up with a name for your new cat-dragon, Alice?"

"Not yet. I figure something will present itself. She's so tiny."

"Don't judge her by her size," Lucy advised.

"I'm not about to. What can you tell me about her?"

"Just the basics. They emerged originally in northeastern Europe, but have obviously spread, just like all the other dragons." At my expression, she waved her hand. "Yes, there are many kinds of dragons. Anyway, pū?is are fierce guardians of people, property, and treasure. They're also little tricksters, though that tends to develop more when they reach adolescence."

"So when does she turn into a dragon, then?" Malcolm asked. "When she's angry?"

Lucy smiled. "Generally, from what I understand, they are in cat form when on the ground and dragon form when they fly. Your little guardian will be quite a handful."

I blinked. "My little guardian?"

"Fierce guardian for life. She's bonded to you now."

"What? I can't—Lucy, I'm going back home when all this is done. I can't take her back with me. She'd never survive the journey."

"She's a fae creature," she reminded me. "Never underestimate a fae, or anything from that realm. Boundaries aren't the same kind of obstacle to them as they are to us."

"Even if she did survive, I can't take a cat-dragon back to my world," I argued. "We don't have cat-dragons there."

Lucy kept her eyes on the road. I hadn't seen any ominous shadows in the trees since we entered coven territory, but hyper-vigilance seemed like a necessity for nighttime driving here. "Maybe you do, maybe you don't. Just because you aren't personally aware of one existing doesn't mean they don't. Smart little creatures like pū?is are very good at hiding."

"She's got a point," Malcolm said. "Just think of all the so-called mythological and legendary creatures we've got back home. What if even a percentage of those are real?" He grinned. "What if some of those people flying high on whatever they're on aren't just hallucinating when they say they saw dragons?"

A furry creature that looked like a large, muscular beaver with two small wings on its back ran across the road in front of us. It shone greenish-black in the supe lights and had bright green eyes and big teeth. It disappeared into the trees.

I rubbed my forehead. "What on earth am I going to do with a cat-dragon?"

"Same thing you're going to do with a magic wolf: make it work," Malcolm told me. "Let's worry about one thing at a time. We've got more immediate problems, like getting out of witch territory, avoiding creatures that eat travelers, and finding a mass grave."

And proving Torryn's predictions wrong,I thought wryly. "Piece of cake."