CHAPTER THIRTY

I hit the button on the remote for Ioan’s gate, and we drove through. As I pulled off my helmet, Ricky looked at me and said, “You might want to pop your collar.”

“Hey, if the biker doesn’t pop his, I’m not popping mine. Also? We’re thirty years past that fashion faux pas.”

“Yeah, but it still comes in handy when you’re sporting a hickey.”

“What?” My hands flew to my neck, and I found the tender spot. “Shit. No, that’s not— I burned it. My hair wasn’t cooperating, so I dragged out the curling iron.”

“Gabriel has a curling iron?”

“No, I meant— Damn it.” I rooted through my bag for concealer. “I’m sorry. If I’d noticed, I’d have hidden it.”

“I know.” His lips twitched. “It is kinda funny, though, watching you guys scramble with excuses. Gabriel told me you weren’t answering my calls because you forgot your phone in the car. Which is about as likely as you leaving your arm behind. He dried his hair so fast the back was sticking up. And then he scarfed down half the food I brought for lunch. I’ve never seen him eat like that.” He smiled. “But I do appreciate he’s being circumspect.”

“He’s not going to wave it in your face.”

“No, but we are talking about Gabriel, who never goes out of his way to cushion anyone’s feelings but yours. He’s being very thoughtful. It’s sweet. Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.” I finished applying the concealer. “Better?”

“Yep.” He leaned over for a better look and then stopped. “Is that a bite on your collarbone?”

“Shit! No. Damn it.”

Ricky laughed as I frantically applied more makeup.

“I’m sorry. I’m really—”

“Stop. If it’s not obvious, teasing you is my way of dealing with it. Honestly? I was afraid that part might be a disappointment for you. Because, well, it’s Gabriel. In the four years he’s been the Saints’ lawyer, I’ve never known him to as much as date. But bad sex isn’t going to make you come running back to me. It’d just make you less than totally happy with him. Happy is good. Hickeys are good. Even bite marks…” He shook his head. “Nope, not commenting on the bite mark. But at least now I know where that cut on his lip came from.” He exhaled. “Can we change the conversation now?”

“Pretty sure I didn’t start it. Or prolong it.”

“Yeah, like I said, I’m trying to deal. But that’s enough. Now, before we go in, let’s take a minute, so you can tell me how you really feel about what your dad said.”

Apparently, my makeup fix didn’t hide the bruise enough to escape fae detection. Ioan’s gaze went to it almost the second we were seated. He smiled. I was in his living room with Ricky, who’d been home from Miami less than twenty-four hours, and I show up bearing a sign that sex had been had. Obviously, we’d come to our senses and reconciled.

Fortunately, Ricky didn’t notice. He was too busy giving Ioan shit for not telling me Todd had been the one to summon them. As my Cŵn Annwn parent, though, Todd was their secondary champion, and Ioan had wanted to do nothing that might strain our relationship. I understood that.

Ricky told Ioan that if he wanted to win my favor, he should be a little more concerned with positioning himself as the side I could trust. And Ioan said nothing. Because Ricky was right. Even Brenin came in to watch, the alpha hound’s gaze swiveling between Ioan and Ricky, watching and assessing.

Lloergan lay at Ricky’s feet, giving Brenin a look that warned Ricky was hers. I smiled at that. There was no chance Brenin was considering a change of allegiance. He was just processing the fact that “his” alpha was listening to Ricky, which boosted the newcomer higher in the pack hierarchy.

After Ricky finished, I said to Ioan, “So who’d you make the deal with?” When Ioan didn’t answer, I said, “The deal to cure me. You made it with the sluagh, didn’t you?”

More silence.

Ricky looked at Ioan. “Did I just waste my breath? ’Cause I really feel like—”

“No, you didn’t,” Ioan said. “I’m framing my response in a way that explains, without seeming as if I’m attempting to dodge responsibility. Also, preferably, in a way that doesn’t make me look like a complete idiot.”

“You didn’t know it was the sluagh,” I said.

“In modern times, such deals are almost unheard-of. I had only been asked once before Todd, and in a situation I rejected without further investigation. Todd was different.”

“When you heard I had spina bifida, you knew it was one of the possible side effects of fae blood. That’s why you asked about my mother. You realized she was from a fae family in Cainsville. Add that to Todd’s Cŵn Annwn blood and I fit the criteria for Matilda.”

“I’d heard rumors that a Matilda had been born, disabled. Which meant if I could help, I would. While a physical disability would not prevent you from playing your role, it would be easier if you weren’t dealing with that challenge on top of the others. You would be safer having the full use of your legs.”

“So, to make the deal, you contacted…?”

“That was the problem. Having never seriously considered such a deal, for me it was theoretical. Like a story passed down through generations. In that, I fear, I was little different from your father, who only knew he had our blood through family legend. These deals are typically made with what human folklore calls Celtic deities and the Christian invaders labeled demons. They’re more aptly called forces of nature. The Cŵn Annwn work in their service—yet, like humans and their gods, it’s a distant relationship of faith and service rather than a personal relationship.”

“You can’t just summon them for a chat.”

“Exactly. If we wish to make contact, we must do so through a messenger. An ancient fae with a deep connection to the natural world—one so close to the end of life that he or she is already merging with nature and attuned to the will of those forces. I performed the ritual of contact. The next day, a fae answered my summons. I explained what I needed. She told me four sacrifices were required. She gave me their names, and when we visited them, we knew they would be righteous deaths.”

“That’s how you do it, then? How you determine guilt? It’s a sense?”

“Not a sense, but a certainty. What’s the saying? To see guilt written on a face? Sometimes we can access their memories, which is a power you seem to have inherited. Even when those memories are closed to us, guilt is as obvious as the color of their skin. In the case of the Tysons, we saw memories of their crime. With Hilton and Pasolini, we only knew they were guilty.”

“Whatever they did, it’s linked to the Tysons.” I told him about the vision in the fun house. “Gabriel and I haven’t had time to even begin investigating that. But it seems as if the Tysons, Hilton, and Pasolini were part of some group, some…”

“Cult?” Ricky said.

I made a face. “All the research I did into my parents’ crimes taught me that ritual murderers and cultists are just idiots who’ve seen too many movies.”

“Liv’s right,” Ioan said. “If these four thought they could summon dark forces with their sacrifices, it’s just an excuse to exercise very dark and very twisted desires. They wanted to kill. Doing it in a ritual seemed more acceptable to them. A form of mob mentality, if you like.”

“So Pamela was asked to execute four killers pursuing a single goal,” I said. “The issue here, though, is who brought you that deal. The ancient fae. You presumed she was the messenger you’d summoned.”

“Yes. I should have made certain.”

His mistake was understandable. He put out a summons. Someone answered and gave him what he expected. Having never done such a deal, he’d have no way to test the messenger, no cause for doubt.

“So we’re now thinking it was a sluagh in manifested form,” I said. “Probably the same one who contacted my father, telling him how to summon you.”

Ricky nodded. “A setup from the start. The sluagh prod Todd to ask for the deal. Then they intercept the message and negotiate the terms.”

“Which gives them power over me,” I said. “That’s what the sluagh meant, isn’t it? That it was the one who cured my spina bifida. That puts me in its debt. In its power.”

“It shouldn’t,” Ioan said. “The price was paid. Four souls. The sluagh accepted its reward and should have no further claim on you.”

“ ‘Should’ being the operative word.”