Any chance of romance nixed by the ‘three's a crowd' rule, Niall retrieved beers for us, and we convened what Grayson called a war table. Penelope was our primary concern, then our skip, then my family issues.

“I have to call Orson and tell him about Pen. I can’t believe I haven’t done it yet.”

Gray tipped the remainder of his bottle down his throat and handed it to Niall, who had a replacement ready. "If he gives you crap, just blame me. I dragged you out here to keep you safe."

"Yeah, except I have great reception out here. I'm going to step outside and call him okay? Leave me a beer, and I'll bring back some food too." Neither Grayson or I had eaten much, and if there was a chance we'd be fighting someone tonight, he'd need something to fuel his change.

Before Orson could pick up on his end, Sheryl and two she-wolves stepped into the circle of light cast by the cabin’s small porch light. I hung up quickly and hoped he wasn’t mad when I called him back. “Hey Sheryl, my goodness, I didn’t know there was room service here.”

"We bring peace offerings. I'm sorry Devon hit your wolf. He and Sandy have been having issues lately, and he's become stupidly jealous."

"It's no big deal, Sheryl, I get it. Most packs have more fighting than ours, to begin with, so we should have been prepared. But Niall loves a party more than just about anything. He simply didn't think of the consequences, because Goddess knows if they'd fought, Niall would have damaged that kid."

I held the door for them so they could put the extra-large plates of food down on the table inside. There was enough beer and barbeque for ten mundane humans, but it was about right for my guys if I didn't try to eat too much. But Sheryl had thought of me also, and on her way back out, she handed me a regular sized plate stacked with ribs and pasta salad.

“Devon’s on lockdown, so please join us whenever you want,” she murmured, leaning in close. “Please don’t judge us all based on his stupidity.”

“My offer to try to help Prescott was never taken off the table, Sheryl.” I lifted the plate in both hands. “Thanks for the food. Maybe we shouldn’t raise power like that while the feral is out there. I’m sure it’s making everyone extra tense.”

Niall ducked out the door and took my plate, only grinning at me when I growled a warning. “I won’t eat your food, Mo, sheesh.” He was still chuckling when I turned my attention back to my phone with a sigh. I sat on the tiny wood porch and called Orson again, holding my breath until he picked up.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got Farley already.”

"I won't," I began, my throat tightening as I tried to find the right words to tell him what had happened. "Orson, Pen's hurt. She's in Fairy, and they won't let me see her."

There was a long silence, and I wondered if he was holding his breath too. Penelope was his first skip trace and his silent partner. She was his only family. "Who did it?"

We're a paranoid bunch, but that's because an injury to one of us was almost always caused by someone who didn't want to be caught…my cousin included. "I think it was Fortunato, but I can't be sure without examining her myself. She tripped a ward of some kind in my room, and my father has healers taking care of her."

"Find me that skip, and I'll give you all the time off you need to kill the son of a bitch, okay?" It wasn't the response I'd expected until he gave it, then it became the only logical choice.

“That was my priority too,” I told him, without mentioning that murdering my cousin hadn’t exactly been part of my plan. “Things got a little sticky here tonight, so I figured between my worrying about Pen and the pack here worrying about Farley, I should keep my magic under wraps.”

He made a grunt of agreement and said something to someone on his end. "Do what you have to do, but be diplomatic okay? I want to have the freedom to move through Montana in the future, and Pen's not there to make people more amenable to your, ah, frank honesty."

I scoffed and felt the corners of my mouth tweak upward. “I promise to be diplomatic as long as I have to, Orson. You can still count on me.”

“I know, kiddo. I’ll see what I can get you for help while Pen’s down, and you make sure she comes back to us, whatever shape she’s in. I won’t have her becoming beholden to the fae and kept in Fairy forever.”

I nodded and caught myself. “I know. I thought the same thing. I’ll need to find help with the fae, though.”

"Call on the Crone, McDonough, I believe. She can tell you how to get around fae law and even give you magic to help get Pen out of there if you can pay her price."

“Got it. I’ll ask around and find out where she is.”

He sniffed, and I waited for the bad news that always followed. "Tryst is out there, I can't imagine why, unless he thinks you can get him back into Fairy. He'll know where to find her though if you don't mind talking to him."

I knew Orson had tried to shield me from the fae power broker after I told him of my last encounter with Tryst, former demi-god, now outcast and magicless. He’d told me my father had commanded him to watch over me, but no one in Fairy had mentioned him, even in passing, and it was hard to know if he’d ever told me the whole truth.

For Tryst, it was as likely that he’d gossip that my father was looking for someone to keep an eye on me as it was he’d been asked. While it wouldn’t be an outright lie, it was close enough that it could mean additional punishment if he were caught.

I relayed the information to Grayson, who clenched his jaw at the mention of Tryst's name but said nothing to dissuade me from speaking to him. It was Tryst who had tried to con me out of some of my power back home, and as we discovered how much more powerful I was, it seemed more apparent that he'd held back that information (along with other vital tidbits, like the name of the man who'd framed me for a murder) and could never be trusted.

“Okay, so this, crone person. She can get Penelope back for us?” Niall and Pen had struck an immediate friendship based solely on their love of partying and their innate sex appeal to everyone around them. I didn’t care how it worked, I was just happy that it did, strengthening the bond Gray and I had with our respective people as they bonded with each other.

I shrugged, wishing I had more faith in a fae or a witch who might help us. “Orson thinks she can.” I picked at the food on my plate, only missing a couple choice pieces of meat when I’d claimed it. “But he warned me that she do compassionate service.”

“Which is probably why he knows her,” Niall scoffed.

"And why he trusts her," Gray added, finally speaking up. His face was thoughtful, but he seemed heartened by the addition of someone other than Tryst to help us. "She'll ask for payment, we'll give it to her, and we'll get a straight deal." He leveled his gaze at me across the table. "We can't say that about everyone who would offer to help."

Yup. He still had a big mad about Tryst. There was nothing I could do to change his mind, and I wasn’t sure I would want to if I could, so I let it go. Niall offered to make peace with the young guys of the pack and find out if Carl knew the crone, and Gray knelt at my side, putting his head in my lap, wrapping one muscular arm around me.

“Are you going to be okay, Morgan?”

I laughed, the sound coming out harsh and grating. "Yeah, I'll be okay, Gray. But I'll be damned if I'm leaving here without either a full understanding of my power or the safe passage granted by a royal title." I ran my fingers through his hair, as soft as down despite how thick and wavy it was. "We're getting Pen back, and I'll heal her myself if I have to, and I'm not putting up with any more death threats, or assassination attempts, or fucking murder frame-ups. I'm done letting the witches, letting my aunt get away with it.”

He planted a kiss in my palm and let me stroke his hair without speaking. Gray was a diplomat, like Orson, like Penelope. I needed them to keep me grounded and stop me from acting too rashly. But sometimes, they needed someone like me too, a fighter who wouldn’t back down no matter how big my opponent. After all, I was used to being one of the smallest and considered the weakest in every arena of my life. But just like the story the Christians loved to tell, I’d learned that just because you were fighting a giant, didn’t mean he couldn’t be put down.

Niall returned with a girl on each arm and an address, and Gray gave him the night off to keep the local pack company (with a stern warning to keep his hosts happy). I changed into clothes more befitting my station…as a bounty hunter, not a fae princess. The crone needed to see me as I was, and if she was a witch or fae, I wanted her to see I was all business, no coven or crown.

Grayson added the address to the navigational system in the rental car and pulled out as I sent a prayer up to the nearly full moon, for the Goddess to guide my words, so I didn't get myself in even more trouble.

When he pulled up to the house, I gaped for a moment before double checking the address Niall had given us. “Does this look like a crone’s house to you?” Gray asked quietly, bending to stare out my window at the modern architecture standing just past the neatly manicured lawn.

“Not really,” I muttered, “no garden, no…feel of magic. I think the pack decided to get Niall back for flirting with their wolf.”

The words had barely left my mouth when power flooded over me, slammed into my body like a runaway train and left me breathless. Gray’s eyes grew impossibly wide. He swallowed hard and managed a shaky chuckle.

“Never mind.”

I gave him a small nod and muttered a spell to protect us from a second wave. So, she’s a witch. Great. When I finally prove Fortunato is behind this, I really am going to kill him, on principle alone. “Maybe I should go in alone. If she eats were-cats and fae princesses, I’d rather you make it back in one piece.”

Oh, stop cowering in that Jeep and get in here, girl. If I wanted to harm you, you’d be dead already. The voice in my head wasn't my own, but it was warm, and it was laughing at me, much like my own internal voice tends to, and managed to make me feel like an idiot while it slowed my heart rate and dried my palms.

That, of course, was another spell. Witches and fae, I thought back at her, they’re never happy unless they’re screwing with reality to appear hotter, or smarter, or scarier than they are. I felt her smirk as clearly as if I’d seen it. It was still better than the reception I usually got at the home of a witch. I kissed Gray and told him to wait for me, then made my way to the frosted glass panel front door.

The door opened silently, but a ward kept me from stepping inside. “Hold on a second, I’ll come out to you,” a gravelly voice called from inside. “I’m just putting together a tea-tray.” A moment later a wizened, sweet face appeared in the doorway. “Would it have killed you to call first?”

My face heated and I stammered before admitting we had assumed she wouldn’t have a phone. “I hate to admit it, but I had a different mental image of our meeting.”

She cackled, her eyes twinkling at me as she set the tray down and I poured her a cup before pouring my own, out of habit. “I’m sure I can scrounge up a cauldron if it would make you feel better.”

“Nah, I’m good. Should I call my friend up here?”

She sniffed at me, glancing at the car. "No, your boyfriend can wait right where he is. I can't imagine he really understands witchcraft since you hide that part of yourself."

I clenched my jaw and counted to ten in my head before answering. "I've lived as a witch my entire life. I came here to learn about being a fae. I won't apologize for not being a witch since the witches seem to be intent on my demise."

“But until you accept both your halves together, you will never achieve your potential.”

I held out the small pitcher of cream, and she let me pour some into her teacup. "What potential could I unlock by being a witch and fae at the same time? I mean, I assume you're talking about magic, since I'm always both physically." I set the pitcher down with a clatter, a fine tremor running through my hands. "Why is everyone so obsessed with power?"

“Ah, but you are too, or you wouldn’t be here.”

I clenched my fists in my lap, all thought of diplomacy gone. “No. Your kind dream of being more powerful than anyone else. All I want is the power to keep myself and my family safe.”

“But witches are your family.”

“No. Orson is my family, and Pen, and the hunters, and the lesser fae that everyone turns their noses up at, and the shifters. They have magic, good, strong, natural magic that the Goddess loves, and the covens turn up their noses at them like they’re garbage.”

Her eyes twinkled at me again. “So much passion for the underdog, Morgana.”

“Morgan.” I snapped my reply before I had a chance to reach for diplomacy.

“Oh, I like Morgana. She was a lovely woman and a good friend. She would have enjoyed you so very much.”

I didn't answer, and she motioned at my cup, urging me to drink. I sipped it, savoring the fresh herbs and rose hips. "This is my favorite flavor."

"It was your great-grandmother's too. I took a chance that you might be like her since you decided to visit."

I sighed and set the cup down again. “But I didn’t. I came to ask you for wisdom, for a friend in need, possibly in danger.”

"Your hunter friend, the one who cannot be wakened." She made it a statement, but I still nodded my agreement.

“Penelope. She’s a siren.”

“Oh of course. That’s why she sleeps, you know. Her fae half is silenced, but she survived because mermaids are an entirely different fae.”

“She’s never grown a tail, I think there’s human in there too.”

She nodded and sipped some more. “I haven’t been to Fairy in so many years, but it still aches to be away. I hear they use the pit of mortality to hold fae now, anyone who disagrees with the nobles simply vanishes.”

“I’d like to make a few people vanish, so I understand the urge, but all I expect is to get my friend out of that manufacture magical hell and make her better.”

“Manufactured…magical…hell…” the crone sniggered and then laughed harder as her tea sloshed over the cup. “Oh, your Unseelie cousin is in for a world of hurt once you get him cornered.”

“So…it was Fortunato.”

She shrugged and wrinkled her little pug nose. "Not personally, no. I've been watching him, and he keeps those slug-white hands of his clean…ish."

“But his people, he has them do these things?”

"Of course. I've always kept an eye on you, making whips a little too heavy to lift for another blow, warming the water, so you didn't freeze on the winter solstice…" she shook her head. "Us hybrid witches need to stick together."

“You’ve been to fairy because you’re fae, and you prove the prophecy wrong.”

“Oh no, dearest heart. It will be a half-breed who takes down the witches, and I dearly hope it’s you when the time comes.”

I didn't tell her that my heart sang when she said it and that for at least that moment, I hoped it was me too. "I was told you have a price for your wisdom, Crone McDonough. What do I owe you for our visit?"

“From the heir to the fae throne and the progeny of my truest friend? Since we can’t take down that malicious aunt of yours, I would say more visits would be an acceptable price. I have no need for your magic, and I know you have no riches, what else could you offer?”

I coughed and thought for a moment, trying to remember some of that fae etiquette I’d been learning, but her comment about my aunt made me grin. “You have a place at my table, now and always. A bed if you are in need, a copper if your pocket is empty, and food if you hunger.”

“That’s very good for a mutt who doesn’t speak Gaelic.”

I belly laughed and rocked back in my seat. "I know I forgot something, but the covens don't have any kind of vow of friendship." I paused, feeling her eyes on me. "It's sort of sad if you think about it. To a witch, the coven is everything, but, but when have we ever pledged just to take care of one another?"

“And that is why you will prevail, beautiful girl. I am so glad to have met you.”

"I would've come if I'd known too."

"Oh, I know, lass. I know. Morgana kept my existence a secret just as she wished yours to be when the time came."

“But Mother died.”

The old woman’s face hardened. “Untimely, wasn’t it?”

It was the first time anyone had openly spoken my own secret fear and suspicion, that my mother had died not giving birth to me, but because she had chosen to have me at all. I left with a heavy heart, but for a different reason than I’d started out into rural Montana that night. Fortunato was behind the kill ward that had put Penelope in her magical sleep. Thankfully, the coven had just the magic to heal a coma like that, even if the fae couldn’t.

But they could if they were willing to admit what had happened. To get to the source, they'd merely have to examine her magically. For whatever reason, possibly even orders from my father, they refused to find the source, and that meant no cure.

I had what I needed, at a price I was only too happy to pay. But other tolls were coming in my near future, and if the price was the people I'd grown to love, there had to be another way to pay.