“Your cat waits for you outside, Morgana. Go to him, calm down, and return when you have remembered your diplomacy.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I scoffed as I unfolded myself and started down the stairs away from him. “It’s always good to know that while you were never there for me, no matter how many times my aunt almost murdered me, that you’ll be just as unconcerned with my survival in your own house.”

I stormed out, and he knew better than to call me back. It was really a variation of every talk we'd had since my arrival, and he knew I wouldn't turn back, just as I knew he wouldn't admit he wanted me to leave.

Why I hadn’t left, was beyond me. I only knew I had to conquer it, walk through Fairy using my magic, accepted by the wild magic that protected the fae within. Until I stopped being a coward and just let my magic out, I would never know if I was fae enough. I didn’t care about the duels. I would fight them every day forever if I had to. But if I wasn’t fae enough to use magic in Fairy, then my death would prove everyone around me right, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Just as he said, Grayson was waiting outside the manor door. The entrance to Fairy, circa the twentieth century, had reformed itself into a mansion, complete with gardens and paths and a pond full of fish that sometimes-looked like koi, but sometimes appeared as trout, their silver scales flashing in the sun.

“Hey, I survived my dual this morning, are you excited to see me?” I chuckled as I joined him on the steps.

He looked out over the circular gravel apron where the only car parked was his rented SUV. “Penelope’s in Helena talking to some people Orson has helped before. You guys were right not to head to the East Coast. He was sighted in Butte and then in Idaho. Orson’s sure he’s coming back this way again.”

I stretched and sighed. "Thank the Goddess, my opponent, this morning was not a fighter."

“Someone who can’t fight challenged you to a duel?” I nodded as he rubbed the small of my back until I started making helpless happy noises.

"My cousin bespelled a blade for her. He probably told her it could miss or some nonsense. When I knocked it out of her hand, she about wet herself." Grayson's hand stopped moving, and I cracked an eyelid to stare up at him sideways. "What?"

He made the face that told me he was counting to ten. I tend to have that effect on people, so I waited for him to continue without speaking. “Your cousin is trying to kill you, and that’s all you have to say?”

“If he really wanted me dead, I’m sure he could have just used his magic. Apparently, he has the ability to bring back old wounds from battle. Can you even imagine what that would do to me?”

"That's why he's encouraging the duels, so he has more wounds to pull from," Grayson gasped, and I pressed my finger to the end of my nose.

“Nailed it.”

"The sooner you are finished here, and we can get you home, the better I'll feel. "He took my hand, and I let him, but his words rankled. I understood that my power made the pack stronger, but the more time I spent with them, the less independence I had.

“You know, I could’ve met you at the campsite.”

“I couldn’t wait. If you hadn’t shown, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

I sighed and did a little ten-count of my own. “If I hadn’t come out, what would you have done? The fae are known for letting humans rot outside the mound, never letting them in, remember?”

He didn’t have a reply, and I added another win to my mental checklist. I hated that I was keeping score on so many fronts lately, but the petty part of me needed the reminder that I wasn’t crazy, and that sometimes, I was even right. Because no one around me wanted to admit it.

The pack was spending the hottest part of summer in a yearly retreat. It was something that interested Grayson enough that when I told him I was coming back east to Montana to help Penelope with her skip, he jumped at the chance to come along. Of course, like the fiscally minded troll he is, Orson worked out a consulting fee in the process so he could claim all our travel expenses for his taxes.

The campground was lovely, and there were even some cabins for use, mostly by those with young families and the very elderly that weren’t into sleeping in tents anymore. But the Montana alpha, a giant of a man named Carl Dunston, had given Grayson use of a cabin that slept four and had running water, so even Penelope couldn’t complain.

Carl was waiting for us when we arrived at the camp, too, as he had been every other trip. I knew he had guards posted, especially since the skip we were chasing was a former member of the pack, but I hadn’t figured out how they communicated yet, since I hadn’t heard any howling, and my cell phone had no bars since we left the highway and turned down the utility road to the backside of the camp.

"You did it again, Carl," I laughed as he opened my door for me. I'd tried to stop him, but he'd just chewed out Grayson for not teaching me to accept chivalry. They were old-fashioned, but I liked Carl and Sheryl immediately. They didn't rule their pack by force, but by vote. They were the most democratic pack in the country, and Grayson wanted to know if it was a system that would work on a pack as diverse as ours.

Carl and Sheryl's pack was mostly wolves, but they had shifters I'd never seen before, including a mated pair of black swans and an honest-to-god Leo, who in his human form was a quiet, bookish guy with naturally golden skin, hair, and eyes. He'd taken one look at Penelope in her leather and lace gear and had practically run to his cabin. I hoped to see him again, his kind were relatively rare in North America, and it was strange to see him in the middle of the woods in Montana. Both because of the animal I saw lurking beneath his skin, and because he looked like the stereotypical city professor lost in the woods.

Penelope’s ring tone chirped the old song. “Barbie Girl” from my pocket and I picked up before anyone else heard it. “What’s up, Pen?”

“I got a call from my guy in Pocatello. Farley’s been bouncing back and forth between his cousin’s farm and an old girlfriend in Butte.”

I huffed to myself. Must be nice having family that protects you, instead of putting you in the line of fire. "Okay, what's the plan, boss-lady?" She chuckled at my reply, and I suspected she'd followed my line of thinking. Like many fae-hybrids, Pen would have been happy to see the witch-supremacists (as she called them) all turned into werewolves just to watch them implode from self-hate.

“Well, the girlfriend could be a problem, if he’s loyal.”

“I’ve seen his record. He’ll fall for your song in a split second. The bigger problem will be making sure there are enough of us to stop him from actually getting to you.”

Penelope agreed and outlined the extra bodies Orson was sending in, as well as a few of the local guys she'd been in contact with to set up their snare. Dragonflies hummed in the air around me as I sat by the pond talking to her, and I had to force myself to pay attention.

Flies skipped on the water and were snapped up by fish, not the magical, ever-changing variety, but plain Jane, run of the mill, beautiful little pond fish that were exactly as the Goddess intended them, without the unnecessary vanity magic of the high fae.

“Morgan?” I shook myself and blinked fast to clear the daze that had settled on me.

“Sorry Pen, I got distracted by the sunlight.”

She clucked at me. “I totally get it, Morgan. I felt the magic of Fairy when it let you and I in, and I prefer the natural splendor of the woods too.”

“Carl and Sheryl are expecting you back today, Pen. Don’t forget, there’s a party for us, and Niall will be there.”

“Remember? I’ve just got done buying graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallow vodka.” I caught myself shaking my head and smiling along with her chuckling even though no one could see me. “It’ll be amazing, I promise.”

She signed off and hung up after promising to get to us before the moon rose too high. I walked back to the main camp t find Grayson had already left to retrieve Niall and a couple other shifters for talks with Carl and company.

My phone rang again, but it played a death march. It was the boss man himself, Orson Tells, the troll who had let me start as a receptionist at Tell’s Bail Bonds when I was still in school. I hesitated before answering, my hands shaking. I’d taken my final set of certification exams before I left and hadn’t heard if I was a bonded bounty hunter yet.

"Hey-o, Bossman, how goes it?" I chuckled, my voice too loud in the quiet forest.

“You let it ring a minute, I catch you in the middle of something?” He said it like he’d interrupted me making out with Grayson. I rolled my eyes but bit my tongue to keep from saying something rude. “I was just lost on thought. I finally got some time by myself while I wait for Pen and Grayson to both return.”

“Well, you should be out there hunting the skip, Morgan. What the hell kind of bounty hunter are you?”

My heart pounded, and my mouth went dry. I'd passed. Even with the trouble, Detective Mills had caused for me back home, I'd been cleared to be a skip trace. "You're right, Boss. I'll borrow a truck and see if Penelope can use some help setting up the sting. When she called, she had word he was headed this way."

“Oh now, untwist those panties, girl. If you’re alone, you stay with those wolves. I can’t afford to lose you on your first day as an official hunter if you get yourself killed.” I let the silence stand long enough that he knew I was thinking rude things at him, and he laughed aloud. “Right. I almost forgot who I was talking to. Go get ‘em, girl. Just don’t let some dumb convict do what better supernaturals have failed for all these years.”

I paused before answering, tempted to tell him about the duals I'd been fighting but stopped myself. For all his gruffness and tough talk, Orson cared about all his people. Without ever going out on a hunt, I'd been to countless meetings where he reminded us all of the safety procedures he had in place, from no solo hunts to the magical-defense packs he made us carry.

My pack was back at the mansion with my things. I'd split my time between the shifters' summer camp and Fairy, but I felt safe among the shifters, so the pack was in the pink bedroom that had been set aside for me, decorated for a young child. To be fair, I was barely out of infancy in terms of fae years. But it was a sign of how out of touch many fae were, that they hadn't realized I was an adult, just because I was under a hundred years old.

“I’ll head back to the mansion and grab my pack and meet Penelope there. We’ll be home before you know it.”

“Well, go tell your boy that you’re gun and handcuff qualified. And please, don’t tell me what happens next.”

I sighed loudly into the phone, making him laugh again. “You guys are gross, you know that? A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“Could you remind Pen about that?” he replied. “Look I’ve got to go. Get your pack, keep it on you, stay with the others, bring home Farley.”

I promised I would, and he hung up without saying goodbye, which had long since stopped offending me. I'd even caught myself doing the same thing, but it made Grayson irritable. I texted Penelope and told her I needed to grab my pack at the mansion, and she offered to meet me there since it was closer to her than the pack.

The woods called to me told me to stay and commune instead of going back to the mansion, where the magic of nature was forced to bend to the will of the arrogant high fae. It was a reality I hadn't expected and didn't understand.

As if Dana herself felt my frustration new shoots licked at my ankles, tugging at my heavy khakis. I rolled up my pants-leg a little to let the tender sproutlings touch my skin. At first, they tickled as they wrapped and unwrapped around my ankle and calf, then they bit in with thorns I hadn’t seen. I gasped in pain and ordered them away, but they clung tighter, folding around my leg and squeezing ever tighter like a boa constrictor.

I muttered a spell to burn away the painfully tight bindings, and they flashed and burned, searing the skin underneath and leaving my skin painted in ashes. My peaceful moment ruined, I limped back to Grayson’s cabin and grabbed the first aid kit from the shelf over the toilet.

Sitting on the tub, I washed my ankle with witch hazel, cursing aloud at the burn. When the stinging faded enough for me to open my eyes, I blinked back my tears and stared at the place on my ankle that should have been red and raw.

Instead, my ankle and calf were covered in an intricate tattoo of an ash tree, with vines climbing the trunk. On the largest lower branch of the tree lay a wolf staring out at me, and balancing it on the other branch was the symbol of my wiccan talisman, the triple moon.

My irritation was replaced by a flood of shame and gratitude. I’d never heard of the Goddess marking a fae or a witch before, but she’d not only given me a mark of her favor, but it included everything that was important to me, the tree of the fae, the body of a shifter, and my talisman. Even though both sides of my family had not accepted me, she did, all of me, my sacrifices and my power.

“Thank you, Lady,” I whispered in prayer, and quickly hid the tattoo. I didn’t know what it meant, but I could only imagine what such a sign of favor would mean to the fae if they knew. My life was already in the light side of the balance for them, any further offense could push them to more drastic efforts to be rid of me.

I took the last rental car back to the mansion, my head still spinning from the sign from the Goddess to her. The garden was quiet, but Penelope’s truck was already parked. Grateful I could just grab my pack and leave with her, I rushed through the halls, barely noticing the extra green climbing the walls around me.

“Hey, Millie, I like all the new plants growing, but does fairy redecorate like that often?” I chuckled as I bumped into her in my room. “I’m just leaving again, so don’t worry about me tonight, but whoever is in charge of the way the mansion looks, tell them I love it.”

Millie didn’t answer, her head hanging, shoulders shaking like she was crying. I tipped her face up to mine, but it wasn’t tears I saw in her eyes, but fear… of me. “Miss, I, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened, or how someone got in here, I was summoned to the kitchens, I swear it…”

I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “What happened, Millie? Did someone break in here and steal something from me?”

Then she sobbed and covered her face with her hands until I shook her again. “Not stealing, my lady, they hurt her. They hurt your siren.”

Penelope. Someone hurt Penelope.

"Is she dead, Millie?" My heart pounded in my ears, and my stomach turned to liquid as I dropped onto the end of the bed.

“No, Miss. I came in and saw her and got help straight away, I promise.”

I took her hands and held them tightly, demanding her full attention. “Start from the beginning, Millie. Tell me everything, right now.”