I let myself into my apartment, then held open the door to Roarke. I couldn’t help but scowl as he entered. He just grinned.

“You’re a pain in the ass.” I wearily dragged a hand through my hair.

He grinned wider, then winced when his side nudged the doorknob.

“How’s the wound in your side?” I asked.

“Delightful. But really, I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself. I’m going to take a shower.” I nodded toward the kitchen. “Food’s in there. Help yourself. Don’t go in the bedroom.”

He nodded, then headed toward the kitchen, looking far too big in my tiny apartment. I watched him disappear into the small space, then turned and headed toward the bathroom. On my way there, I pulled the bedroom door shut. He wouldn’t be able to find my trove because there was no visible door, but no reason to invite his curiosity.

I flinched at the sight of myself in the mirror. Burns on my neck and the side of my face stood out starkly against my pale skin. Fortunately, they looked to be just first degree. They’d fade soon enough. The rest of me was filthy. Dirt in my hair and all over my clothes. Demon blood speckled over my shirt and jacket and a bit on my neck.

Ew.

At least my face was mostly clean. And it really had been a good thing that pub in Dartmoor had been run by supernaturals. Walking into a human pub like this wouldn’t have gone well for me.

As I turned toward the shower, I caught sight of a weird lump on my head right under my hair. I reached up and poked it, then almost yelped.

A horn.

I was starting to grow horns. And my face wasn’t just pale from exhaustion. It was turning slightly gray.

My stomach dropped to the floor and a cold sweat broke out over my skin. No, no, no, no, no.

My heart started to thud, pounding in my ears like drums. With a shaking hand, I dug into my pocket for one of the vials of potion that Connor had given me. The one I pulled out was dark green, but I squinted at the tiny, handwritten label to make sure.

Temp. Ubilaz Antidote.

Bottoms up.

I knocked on my head, avoiding my horns, and drank the foul-tasting stuff. Please work, please work, please work.

I stared hard at myself in the mirror, almost collapsing with relief when the bumps on my head receded. I poked them, grateful to find only my normal scalp. My skin even looked a tiny bit pink.

Oh, thank fates. A reprieve.

My muscles were shaky as I turned on the water to the shower. I made quick work of cleaning up, because frankly, it felt like hell. Hot water was too warm on my burns, and cold just felt miserable on the rest of me. By the time I made it out of the shower, I was aching and starving.

With the towel wrapped around me, I darted from the bathroom to the bedroom and changed into PJs decorated with penguins, then made my way to the kitchen.

The sight inside made my jaw drop.

Roarke stood in front of the stove, a spatula in his hand, looking as domestic as June Cleaver.

He turned to look at me. “Nice pants.”

I glanced down at the dancing penguins. “I’m not all black leather.” In fact, I had a serious fondness for cartoon pajamas. “What are you doing?”

He turned. “Making dinner.”

“I just figured you’d pop a frozen pizza in the oven or something.”

He shrugged. “You looked pretty beat. I thought you could use a decent meal.”

He was making me dinner? While wounded?

Huh.

That was really nice of him. But the guy was gonna give me whiplash. One second, it was all I’m going to drag you back to hell, and the next it was like Here’s a nice, home-cooked meal.

He was strong, deadly, mostly silent, and… domestic? He’d make sure I followed the rules of the Underworld, but he’d take care of me while doing it.

“Thanks,” I said. “What is it?”

“Stir-fry.”

“Like, with vegetables? Where’d you find those?” I was a beige vegetarian, sticking primarily to the easier, less healthy veggie options like cheese pizza and pasta.

“Back of the freezer. A mixed bag.”

Huh. Who knew? Not my usual thing, but I’d been on a few failed health kicks over the last few years.

I sniffed, getting a hint of soy sauce and garlic. I hadn’t expected that whatever he scavenged from my kitchen could smell so good.

“So, you’re kind of a good cook?” I asked.

“Not bad. I needed a hobby. Life can’t be all managing the Underworld.” He picked up a sweating brown beer bottle that had been sitting near the stove and took a sip.

Just the sight made me thirsty, so I grabbed a chipped coffee mug and headed to the fridge. I kept the beer on hand for when I visited Cass at her place, but I always had boxed red wine on hand. Cheap and tasty.

As I was filling my coffee mug from the box in the fridge, Roarke spoke. “I just want you to know, however this works out, I’m not sending you back to hell.”

I stood and glanced at him, surprised. “You’re not?”

“Not to hell.” His gaze met mine, unwavering. “But you do have to go back to the Underworld. You shouldn’t be in hell, though. You’re obviously not a bad person. There will be a decent place in one of the heavens for you.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking weary. “But I didn’t want you to worry about ending up in a shitty place like hell.”

So he was worried about me? But not enough to spare me. “Uh, that’s not exactly what I’m looking for. I belong on Earth. With my friends.”

His gaze turned dark, almost tormented. “There are rules, Del. Good rules for good reasons. Following them keeps the Underworlds in line. I can’t make exceptions.”

There was something on his face, both sad and terrible. “Did you once? Make an exception for someone you shouldn’t have?”

His face closed off, but I had him. I totally did. Roarke, the consummate rule follower, had once broken the rules for someone.

And been hurt because of it. Or hurt someone. Had it been the brother that Aidan had mentioned?

Whoever it had been, it seemed that now he wasn’t going to break the rules for anyone else. From the pain on his face, I’d guess he was bound by the rules as strictly as I was bound by my secrecy.

My stomach growled, but I ignored it and studied him as he did something chef-like with the veggies in the skillet. Roarke was stiff as a board, and not from his injury. He clearly didn’t like where this conversation had gone.

So I’d save my questions for later. I could be patient if it suited my end-goal. Though it made me twitchy.

But something had really been bothering me about where I’d ended up in the Underworld.

“Why did I end up in hell, if I’m not a bad person?” I asked.

“It wasn’t really hell. It was an abandoned part of the Underworld that’s been used to temporarily hold souls who don’t go straight to a specific Underworld. Some souls automatically go to an Underworld, particularly if they adhered to a religion on Earth.”

“So, ancient Romans go to Elysium, and the Vikings went to Valhalla? Modern Christians go to heaven or hell? That kind of thing.”

“Exactly. But if you didn’t practice a certain religion, you might end up in a holding Underworld before you’re sent to a permanent Underworld. That’s where you’d end up. There’s good parts to it as well.”

I remembered flashes of the beautiful meadow that had appeared through the haze. And his garden at his Underworld fortress. Ugh. I didn’t like this subject.

“How’s the food coming?” I asked. “I’m famished.”

Roarke turned back to the stove and poked the contents of the skillet with the spatula. “Looks about done.”

“It smells great.”

He smiled, and my stupid heart beat faster. When he turned back and started dishing up the food, I pinched myself.

Get it together. This guy was dangerous. No liking his food. No getting swoony over his smile or his muscles. Definitely no falling for him.

When he turned to me and handed me a bowl, I tried to smile like a normal person. I think it came out pretty weird, but my voice sounded mostly normal at least. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Hope it’s decent.”

“I have a feeling it will be.”

The smell made my mouth water. I went to the tiny table pushed into the corner of the kitchen nook. Roarke sat across from me, his legs bumping mine. I ignored the awareness that prickled along my skin. But there was no way to ignore him. He was way too big for my place.

I tucked into the food, shoving a giant bite of broccoli and carrots into my mouth.

“This is great,” I mumbled around the mouthful.

“Glad you like it.”

“Love it.” I spent the next several minutes scarfing down the food. When I finished, I took a sip of beer and met his gaze. It dropped to my bowl and then back up to me.

“Impressed?” I asked.

“Very.”

“I’m even faster with ice cream.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Um.” Did he mean, like, we go on a date and get ice cream? Because that was real date material. Nah, I was probably reaching. “So, how did you end up as Warden of the Underworld? And I hear you’re rich as Croesus?”

Nicely done. Distract him with rudeness. I might not remember my past, but I would bet big money it hadn’t involved any kind of finishing school.

“Worked my way up, like any job.”

I laughed. “It’s not exactly any job. You’re like the boss of millions of people.”

“Dead people. And demons.” He ate a bit of stir-fry, much more elegantly than I had. “At this point, it doesn’t involve much work. I laid the groundwork with intimidation, and now everyone pretty much follows the rules.”

“You love rules.”

“I do. Keeps things running smoothly. Most people like rules, or at least, the calm that they provide. Except for Rogue demons like the Ubilaz and his fire-throwing friends. That’s one loophole I’m working on closing.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Hang on—let me get this straight. The only folks in the Underworld who don’t follow your rules are the Rogues? Even the Kings of Hell do what you say?”

“Pretty much.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “When I figured out what my powers were, I realized two things. One was that I could use them for good. Ten years ago, many of the Underworlds were at war. The hells primarily, which is no surprise.”

“But you didn’t like that.”

“Not particularly.” He looked around my apartment, but I had a feeling he was seeing more than the tiny space. “I like Earth. But I don’t fit here. I also don’t really fit in the Underworlds.”

“Because you’re half demon, half Were.”

“Exactly. An anomaly. I needed to find a place for myself. Given my half-demon parentage and my ability to cross between the Underworlds and Earth, I realized there was a space for me there to do good.”

Huh. Roarke was a good guy. Who would throw me back in the Underworld. Just like he’d turned his brother in. I wanted to ask about that, but it wasn’t the time. “You said you realized two things. What was the other?”

“The Order of the Magica and the Alpha Council don’t like anomalies. Not powerful ones, at least. We’re wildcards who could wreak havoc or alert humans to our presence.”

“I never thought you’d be at risk.”

“Of course I was. No one has ever seen a Were-demon before. I’ve seen how the government treats the unknown.”

Like FireSouls. They tossed us right into the Prison for Magical Miscreants. “So what’d you do?”

“I realized that if there was nowhere I fit, I had no choice but to make a place…try to straddle the bridge between the afterlife and this one. But I needed a position of power so strong that the Order of the Magica and the Alpha Council couldn’t threaten me. They had to need me.”

“So you stopped the wars in the Underworld.”

“Pretty much. It took me a few years, but the result was worth it.”

“Just peace for peace’s sake?”

“That’s a worthy goal. But no. What’s valuable to the Order and the Council is that I keep the Kings of Hell in line. The hells aren’t great places. There are revolts. People and demons try to escape and return to Earth through portals or magic.”

“How can you keep a handle on that?”

“I don’t have to keep an eye on everyone. Just the Kings of Hell. I stopped the wars by going to each king individually and scaring the shit out of them. My ability to access the Underpath meant that I could get straight into their inner chambers.”

“Even though they might not be built on graveyards or haunted places.”

“Yeah. It just takes more power.”

Like I’d thought. He had been weakened by creating the new portal earlier tonight. “Then what?”

“It took me a few years to visit each king of each hell—there are a lot. And with some well-placed threats, they all agreed to stop their wars and keep a better eye on the dead and demons in their realms who were trying to get to Earth.”

“Just like that?”

“I made it clear that I could tear through space, enter their bedroom, and rip their heads off any time I liked.”

“Fair point. But I can’t imagine the Order or Council like knowing that you can do that.”

“No, and they don’t know exactly how I keep the peace. Just that I do. And they pay me well for it.”

I put down the mug of wine I’d been holding, suddenly dumbfounded. “So with all that on your plate, why did you come after me, specifically? I’m no big deal.”

His gaze turned serious. “But you are, Del. You’re a very big deal. I don’t know why, but you are.”

* * *

Of course I couldn’t sleep.

Not after what Roarke had said. Or after the weirdness with the blue cloud thing that had swept me away.

I spent the night tossing and turning, only getting an hour of sleep here and there. By 6:00 a.m., I was going out of my mind. Roarke was out in my living room, sleeping on a too-short couch while my brain did the whole dog-chasing-its-tail routine.

I had answers about Roarke, but not very many. I had almost no answers about myself and even more questions than before. Why had the Phantoms turned me and no one else? Why had I liked it? And why had the blue cloud swept me away instead of Roarke?

When I’d turned into a Phantom for the first time a few months ago, I’d thought maybe it was just a cool new power. But it was more than that, and my magic was related to death in a way that I didn’t understand. The seer who’d prophesied it had said almost nothing about it. And never directly to me. Only to Cass.

I needed answers.

Unable to take it anymore, I climbed out of bed and pulled on some clothes, then debated whether to write a note for Roarke or not. But what if he was a super light sleeper?

I didn’t want him coming into my bedroom, so I settled on posting a sticky note on the outside of my bedroom door—Gone for coffee at P & P.

Hopefully he’d sleep another hour and find me at Potions & Pastilles with an espresso when he woke.

I grabbed a jacket and my borrowed sword, then searched the dresser for the keys to Scooter, my motorcycle. They peeked out from beneath a T-shirt that definitely had to go in the wash.

Jackpot.

I grabbed them, then realized my helmet was out in the living room. Dang. I couldn’t go get it with Roarke out on the couch. I’d just have to be careful.

I climbed out the window and hopped down to the ground silently. It was still dark out as I raced through the alley between the buildings and out onto the main street.

It took me a moment to remember where I’d parked Scooter. Up past Potions & Pastilles, because it’d been the only spot available. As I hurried up the street, I reached up and pressed my fingertips to the charm at my neck.

“Cass?” I asked.

“What?” Cass’s groggy voice sounded through the charm.

“I want to go see Aethelred to get some answers. Can you tell me where he lives?” Cass had been to see him a few times, but I only knew about him through her.

“In Darklane, three doors down from Aerdeca and Mordaca. Blue house.”

“Thanks. And can you call Connor or Claire for me? Tell them to stall Roarke if he shows up looking for me?”

“Yeah. Good luck with Aethelred,” Cass said. “Promise him some Cornish pasties if you have to. I’ve bribed him with those before. It works better than money.”

I grinned, thinking of the savory treats that Connor made. “Will do.”

I broke the connection with my comms charm when I reached Scooter, the Harley that I’d saved up for when we’d first moved to town. The thing was a beast, but I liked the name Scooter.

I climbed on, cranked the engine, then took off, navigating through the business district and the Historic District, both of which were still dead this time of night. The same couldn’t be said of Darklane. Like its name, the dark hours of night were usually the busiest for this neighborhood.

Ramshackle buildings rose three stories tall on either side of the street as I turned onto the main thoroughfare in Darklane. Ornate gas lamps shed a golden glow. The buildings were as old and ornate as the brightly painted ones in the Historic District, but these were coated in a layer of grime that obscured the bright paint. I’d long been convinced that the layer of dirt and soot had been there since shortly after the buildings themselves had been built.

Darklane housed those supernaturals who worked with magic’s darker side. The kind that harmed as well as helped. But it wasn’t entirely bad. It was all up to interpretation.

While a lot of these supernaturals occasionally bent the law, they weren’t total criminals. The Magica would crack down on that. They walked the line with things like blood magic—illegal if you did it without the consent of the donor, but otherwise acceptable. It was still danged creepy here, though.

I slowed the car as I passed the Apothecary’s Jungle, our friends Aerdeca and Mordaca’s shop. They were both sitting on the steps leading to their door. Aerdeca, blonde and dressed in a white silk robe, was drinking what looked to be a mug of coffee. Mordaca, dressed in a black evening gown with a midnight bouffant, was drinking a Manhattan. I waved, and they waved back. We weren’t close, but they’d had our backs when my deirfiúr and I had needed them.

When I reached Aethelred’s house, a skinny building that had once been blue, I pulled over and parked on the side of the road. I hurried up the narrow wooden steps and banged on the falcon door knocker.

“Who is it?” a cranky old voice called.

Shit. The sun hadn’t even risen. I really should have brought coffee or something, because this was seriously rude.

“Um, it’s Del Hally.” But that wasn’t even true, was it? I was Del Bellator, according to Roarke. Who I still had to grill for info about myself. After I convinced him to let me stay out of the Underworld. But that was a problem for another day. “I’m friends with Cass Clereaux. I have some questions.”

“Don’t they all,” the voice muttered.

But the door creaked open, thank fates. On the other side stood an old man with a long white beard that he’d tucked into the pants of his blue velour tracksuit.

I smiled. “Hi.”

“Harumph.” He stared at me through shining spectacles. “So you’re friends with Cass. And you have questions. Important ones, too, if you’re coming before dawn.”

“Yeah, important.”

He scowled. “I don’t work for free, missy.”

I winced. He was a seer, so he probably knew I was broke. Sure, I had a trove full of treasure, but that didn’t leave a lot in the old bank account to pay off seers.

“I could, ah, ask Connor to make you any kind of pasty you want. For a week.”

“Hmmm….” He considered it as I writhed inside with guilt. Connor was not going to be happy. In fact, I’d probably be the one making the pasties just to make it up to him.

Oh man, maybe this had been a bad idea. Aethelred would not like my pasties, then he’d be pissed at me. He was the only seer I knew, and I didn’t want to lose his help.

“All right,” Aethelred said. “Pasties for a month.”

My shoulders sagged in relief. I could deal with the pasty dilemma later.

“Great! Thanks.”

He stepped back and let me into the dimly-lit foyer, then led me toward a living room crowded with shelves of books and trinkets. A tiny iron hearth crouched at the side of the room with its fire burning low.

Aethelred gestured to a couch as he took the old armchair near the fire. I sat, but just as I opened my mouth, he waved a hand, cutting me off.

“Give me a moment.” He closed his eyes. “I’d like to see what I can get from you before you speak.”

I snapped my mouth shut and waited. His magic swelled on the air as he accessed his power. I got a hint of allspice and whiskey before he spoke.

“You are part of the Triumvirate. Three women who represent life, death, and magic. The three legs upon which the world stands. You were prophesied to do great things.”

“Me specifically?” I asked. A seer had once told Cass that we’d been prophesied to do something great, but me specifically?

I didn’t really feel qualified.

“Yes. You.”

“Not just the Triumvirate?” Triumvirate was Latin for three of power. I represented death, Nix life, and Cass magic. Together, we could accomplish a lot. On my own? Not so much.

“No. You have a role to play. Though I cannot see what, exactly. Not at this moment.” His brow creased as he searched for more answers in the mist of his mind. Seers could not see all, but what they did see was true. “But your power is growing. I can feel that. And you must use it to fulfill your role in the prophecy.”

“How? What does it even mean that I represent death?”

“That your powers come from the Underworld.”

Great. That sounded fantastic.

“Is that why I turned into a Phantom when they touched me three months ago?”

He nodded. “They were a trigger. And there may be more triggers. More power, possibly. You must be ready.”

Oh, that didn’t sound ominous at all. “Is that why I can see ghosts?”

“Yes. And it won’t be the last new power you develop.”

“But Phantoms are evil. They feed on misery and despair.”

“Do you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. But I don’t want to be like that. They’re awful creatures.”

He shrugged. “You do have a dark past.”

My heart raced. “Do you know anything about it? I learned that my true last name is Bellator.”

He shook his head. “No, my dear. I do not know about that.”

Dang. “The other day, a blue cloud that may have been shaped like a dragon swept me up and spit me out on Dartmoor.”

Aethelred’s brows rose, climbing all the way up to his hairline. “Dragons are dead.”

“I know.”

He frowned, then closed his eyes. His magic welled, but he continued to scowl. His eyes popped open. “I do not know. That is strange.”

“Yeah. You’re telling me.”

“Your questions are finished?”

My shoulders slumped. I had some info, but not all that I had come for. “Yeah.”

“Then a word of warning. Be wary. This is a dangerous gift. The Order of the Magica would not like you to wield it. There is too much unknown.”

“I know.”

“That is the best I can do for you, my dear.”

“Thank you. It helps. And if you think of anything else… anything at all, I’d love to know.”

“I will tell you. But be alert. Things are changing for you now. The way is unclear. It is up to you to determine your path.”