Dora whirled around, her eyes flashing with anger as she zeroed in on me. She raised a trembling finger and waggled it in my face. “I had my doubts about her as soon as she showed up here. And now she’s got you involved in this horrid dark magic. I’m afraid for the sanctity of your souls.”
“I didn’t do this to you, Dora.”
“I see what you are,” Dora hissed at me, spittle collecting at the corners of her mouth. “I see the sin and depravity youhave brought with you into this house. You have turned these boys from the glory of the Lord and enticed them into practising satanic witchcraft. I saw the spell books you left open in the library. I saw the libations you poured in this room. Isawthe disgusting?—”
“Dora, that’s enough.” Corbin placed a hand on her shoulder. “Maeve is not a Satanist, and you need to get over this animosity because she’s going to be staying at Briarwood with us.”
Dora smoothed down the front of her charred dress, and rushed to the door. “I will not come back to this house again until it is no longer a house of sin.”
With that, she spun on her heel again and stomped from the hall, slamming the door to the courtyard behind her.
Rowan slumped on the couch, rubbing his temples. “Ireallyneed a cup of tea.”
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Flynn said brightly, picking up the babies and heading to the kitchen.
“You know…” Blake munched on the last of the leg of roast. “The fae who was compelling Dora would have seen and heard everything in this room. He’ll go straight back to Daigh and tell him we’re still alive.”
“It could have been ashefae.” I rubbed my eyes. Why my inner feminist chose that moment to flare to life, I had no idea.
“No, it couldn’t. Feminism hasn’t exactly reached the fae realm. Only males are allowed to wield powers like compulsion.”
I slumped down beside Rowan, brushing his cheek with my hand. He jumped at my touch but didn’t flinch away. His gaze was hollow, unfocused.
“Hey,” I stroked his soft skin, trying to pull him back from that dark place in his mind. “It’s going to be okay. We made it out of the fae realm, we got the babies back. Dora woke up from the spell. Everything more or less has turned out okay.”
He shook his head, his dreadlocks falling over his shoulders.
“If you’re worried about the weapon, don’t be. We know they’re talking about the Slaugh. We’ll stop them, the same way we stopped them from using the babies.”
Rowan nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. He took my hand in his and squeezed.
Sirens sounded in the drive. Rowan stiffened. Corbin ran to the window, watching the courtyard for signs of life. “I’ll do the talking. You guys just corroborate everything I said.”
“Fine with me,” Blake shrugged. “I’m going to see what else is in the kitchen.”
Rowan turned to me, fixing me with a haunting gaze. He shook his head slowly, sadly, and a deep sense of unease settled in my gut. “I have a terrible feeling this nightmare has only just begun.”
CHAPTER THREE
MAEVE
“I’m never letting you go ever again, baby boy.” Jane wrapped her arms around Connor and squeezed him so hard he screeched in protest.
I didn’t blame her for holding him so tight. I met Jane a couple of days ago at her absolute worst. The fae had stolen Connor from his crib and she thought she’d lost her child forever, and because she’d seen the sprites just as they carried Connor through the nursery window, she believed she was going insane.
Despite the acerbic way she treated me on our first meeting, I couldn’t help but like her. Jane had a sharp tongue and a dry humor – so dry it was tough to tell when she was joking at all but for the hint of a sparkle in her light brown eyes. She had a kind of stoic practicality, which meant that she didn’t spend a lot of time having an existential crisis that the fae existed (like I did) or that the guys and I were witches – she took it all in stride. None of it mattered as long as it helped her get Connor back.
And now here he was, wrapped in her arms, his tiny little fists flailing in the air. Jane’s face collapsed into a silly grin. She’d never looked happier.
Detective Sergeant Judge, who’d driven Connor and I from Briarwood over to Jane’s cottage to deliver her son, leaned her stocky body against the crooked frame of the front door. She grinned. I guessed she didn’t get too many happy endings in cases like this.
Behind Inspector Judge the night sky loomed, dark and oppressive. It was already past midnight. The police spent hours questioning us, going over every detail of our relationship with Jane and how Flynn found the babies. A SOCO team (that’s the British version of CSI, but I forgot what all the letters stood for) pawed over the area now, measuring tire tracks on the driveway and photographing every snapped twig. Nervous energy poured off all of us, but not because we were guilty – every moment we spent lying to the police was one more moment the gateway was open and vulnerable to egress by the fae.
Who knew what Daigh’s soldiers might attempt in order to recapture me?
Finally, the police dismissed us and allowed me to ride along to return Connor. Hopefully by the time I returned to Briarwood the guys would have come up with a spell to shut off the gateway and prevent more fae entering our world.
“What happens now?” Jane asked, bouncing Connor in her arms. I’d texted her from the police car to tell her the story we were using, so she knew not to say anything about where we’d really been today.
