“Someone was stolen, but not her.” Patrick straightened up and turned to face them. He looked tired, green eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. “Tell me there’s coffee.”
“I made tea.”
“Ugh. This is America. We threw your tea in the Boston Harbor for a reason.”
“I’ll make coffee,” Wade said through a yawn as he stumbled out of the guest bedroom. His brown hair stuck up in different directions, and it looked as if he’d slept in his clothes rather than pajamas.
Sage crossed her slim arms over her chest, the large diamond engagement ring on her left ring finger glittering in the light. She wore a gray wool sheath dress with three-quarter-length sleeves and knee-high boots with high heels. Her boots put her at eye level with Patrick, though Jono was still taller than both of them. While Patrick looked knackered, Sage looked ready for a full day in court.
“We are not taking custody of a changeling. She is fae, and if the Sluagh are after her, then none of us are safe,” Sage said.
“I hate dealing with the fae,” Patrick muttered. “And I’m not arguing with you about that, because yeah, none of us are safe from the Sluagh.”
He conjured up a mageglobe and the sphere flickered a bit from whatever spell he cast through it. The ball of magic floated closer to the baby, and she seemed to settle more deeply into sleep. Jono figured Patrick had cast a silence ward.
“One of you mind telling me what’s going on?” Jono asked.
Patrick dragged both hands down his face. Jono knew he must have been up for over twenty-four hours now, and it showed. What little sleep Patrick had managed to get over the last few days dealing with the kappas didn’t seem like it was enough. Jono wanted to put him to bed and follow him there.
“The family who reported their child missing had theirs replaced with a changeling whose glamour finally faded enough for them to realize she wasn’t their beautiful baby girl,” Patrick said.
“How long did that take?”
“I don’t know, but I’d bet my next paycheck they were swapped a couple of weeks after the real Wisteria baby was born. It’s easiest to do when they’re both young.”
“You said the home’s threshold banished the Sluagh from the premises. So how did any fae get inside that home to make the switch?” Sage wanted to know.
Patrick shrugged. “Didn’t have to happen at home. Could’ve happened outside somewhere. New York City has a hawthorn path in Central Park. Pretty sure lots of nannies for the rich walk kids in that park.”
“Kids aren’t animals, Patrick. They don’t get walked.”
Patrick waved off her words. “All I’m saying is that’s how changelings usually come into this world. When babies are newborns. The glamour that changelings are wrapped in is supposed to make the families love them and not question any differences they might see.”
“I’m guessing it didn’t work this time because the family were magic users?” Jono asked.
Patrick groaned, knuckling at one eye. “The faehadto choose one of the most conservative witch families in the country to fuck with this time around. The Wisterias had their suspicions apparently, but the changeling’s glamour was really good, I guess. Until this week.”
“What changed?”
“Who the fuck knows? Fae magic is temperamental in big cities. The iron everywhere eats away at the foundation of whatever spells and wards are cast by them.”
“Which is why I think we should bring her to my firm. Tiarnán would know how to keep her safe,” Sage said.
“We’re not taking her to your firm. I don’t trust the fae, this is an SOA matter, and—” Patrick dug out his mobile to get the time. “—the DC agent who handles changeling cases should be here soon to take custody of the baby. She took the first flight out today, but morning rush hour in the rain is a headache.”
Sage frowned. “You’re not keeping the case?”
“I’m keeping the case. I’m not keeping her.” Patrick jerked his thumb in the direction of the sofa with the sleeping baby on it. “Especially not with Sluagh on the hunt.”
Wade came out of the kitchen carrying two mugs of coffee and Jono’s mug of tea, with a silver foil packet of Pop-Tarts clenched between his teeth. Jono took his mug first and watched as Wade offered Patrick one of the other two.
“I put whiskey in it,” Wade mumbled around the wrapper in his mouth.
“You’re my favorite,” Patrick said, taking the mug and downing half of it, wincing all the while.
“Should let it cool,” Jono said.
“Cold coffee is disgusting.”
