It was with heavy footsteps that I made my way back up to my place. Would Roarke still be there? Did I owe him an apology?

Maybe. Probably.

Ah, hell, I’d have to figure it out.

When I opened the door and heard the shower running, my shoulders relaxed.

A reprieve.

I would take it.

I hurried into my bedroom, then into my trove. The piles of books, gleam of gold, and scatter of lucky charms calmed me. I ran my fingertips over a book that teetered on top of a pile as I went to a small chest that contained some of my favorite lucky charms.

It didn’t take long to pick out a variety of lucky talismans. Four, to be precise. Two necklaces, a belt, and a bracelet. All were gold, which gave them a bit of extra lucky something, as far as I was concerned. It was more than I normally wore, but less than I wanted to, so I called it a victory. Semi-self-control for the win.

Wearing my battle gear, I returned to my bedroom just as the water shut off.

Whew. I planned to tell Roarke what I was, but I didn’t want him catching me walking out of the wall as I exited my trove. Better to do it on my terms—not by being caught.

I gave him a moment to get dressed, then went out into the living room. He standing near the couch, tugging his shirt on as I entered.

His head popped over the top. “Hey.”

“Hey.” I stood awkwardly on my side of the room, not quite sure how I wanted to admit that I was wrong. To say it wasn’t my favorite activity would be an understatement. “So, uh, maybe you have a point that there are some things I haven’t been telling you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I have good reasons.”

“I know.”

And the thing was, he looked like he really did know. It made this easier.

“Well, anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I will tell you…stuff. That stuff I haven’t been telling you, that is.” Oh boy, I was handling this super well. This was why I normally stayed away from real relationships. “But let’s just get this demon thing under control first, okay? I’m worried that the longer I hang out in one place, the more I’ll attract. So I’d like to get a move on. That is, if you’re still helping me.”

His gaze softened, and he approached me. “I’m still helping you.”

“Thank you.” My heart thudded. “Really.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. I closed my eyes, savoring the touch.

When he pulled away, I couldn’t make eye contact, so I walked to the window and peered out, unsurprised to see a demon out on the sidewalk, staring up at my window. He was muscular and tall, with pale yellow skin that made him look like a fit Minion. He was even bald. He just needed funny goggles and blue overalls.

Too bad he had a big old sword in his hand.

Great. This was just great.

“Another one?” Roarke asked.

“Yep.”

Roarke came to join me at the window, standing far enough away that we didn’t touch. But I could still feel the heat of him. I ignored it—tried to, at least—and focused on the fight below.

The green door that led to our apartments burst open, and Nix ran out, leaping up to deliver a flying kick to the demon’s chest. The demon was so preoccupied with staring at my window that she landed the blow solidly. She’d always been best with hand-to-hand. A legacy of defending the shop from burglars for years.

The demon jumped to his feet, far more quickly than I’d have expected for a demon his size. Nix was unarmed, but I wasn’t worried. She had this guy in the bag.

As expected, she ducked his sword blow, then kicked out and swept his legs out from under him. She was on him before he’d fully hit the ground, landing a mean punch to his jaw. She nailed him again, this time from the other side, and he passed out cold.

Nix jumped to her feet and dusted off her hands, then picked up the demon’s blade and plunged it through his chest. She left the sword sticking upright, then leaned against Cass’s old black car and watched the demon slowly disappear.

“You three are tough as nails,” Roarke said.

“Yeah.” Pride warmed my chest. “We are.”

* * *

The closest Underpath portal to Cwm Y Ddraig was located about ten miles away near the walled castle town of Caernarfon. I followed Roarke out into a graveyard in the shadows of the castle wall, stumbling over a fallen headstone. Threatening clouds hung low overhead, crowding around the surrounding mountains and promising snow at any moment. Chill winter air froze my lungs and made my cheeks sting.

“At least it’s daylight,” Roarke said.

“No kidding.” Because of the time change, we’d arrived here in daylight, thank fates.

I followed him through the tombstones toward the wrought iron fence. Just as we stepped out of the gate, a big black car pulled up, and a demon popped out. He’d pass for human among most people, but my new demon-savvy senses picked up his demonic nature from the strange gleam in his eyes.

“Just in time. Thank you, Florus,” Roarke said.

Florus walked around the vehicle and handed Roarke the keys, his gaze glued on me.

“What’s she?” Florus asked Roarke.

“None of your business, is what she is,” Roarke said.

I eyed Florus warily, waiting to see what he would do. All demons weren’t evil. So this one shouldn’t necessarily attack me on sight. But I was so used to the other demons—the ones who usually served as mercenaries or who’d just recently escaped the Underworld. They were trouble.

Florus’s nose twitched, as if he smelled something weird, then he turned to Roarke. “That all you need?”

“That’s it for now, thanks. Give my best to your family.”

Florus nodded and ambled off down the road, disappearing in a poof of gray smoke when he was about ten feet away.

“He’s another one of your minions?”

“I prefer to think of them as staff,” Roarke said as he climbed behind the wheel of the car.

I jumped in and sighed gratefully as warm air blasted from the heaters. “So how does it work? With the demons. He seemed much more…benign.”

“I told you not all demons are evil.”

“Yeah, I know.” I’d literally just been thinking about it, but given my line of work, it was sometimes hard to remember. “But what’s the deal with the ones who work for you? Do they live on Earth?”

He nodded as he pulled onto the narrow road and punched Cwm Y Ddraig into the GPS on the dash. “They do. They’re demons who’ve proven to be trustworthy and valuable members of society. So I allow them to live on Earth with their families, scattered all over the globe, in return for their help in situations like this.”

“Whoa.” I turned to look at him as we drove out of the town surrounding the castle and into the woods. “So you bend the rules for them? Because demons aren’t supposed to live on Earth. If they were, I’d be out of a job.”

“You could still hunt treasure.”

“True. But don’t change the subject.”

He grinned. “No. I don’t break the rules. I have a special dispensation from the Order of the Magica. They agree that it’s good to have some demons on our side.”

Roarke slowed the car as the GPS told him to turn in twenty meters.

“Turn here,” the dulcet tones of the GPS commanded.

But there was no road, just more trees.

Roarke turned anyway.

“Wait!” I pressed myself back into the seat.

Instead of plowing into a tree, the car bumped onto a tiny dirt road, and the vision of forest turned into a narrow lane, barely wide enough for our car.

“I’m going to guess the town of Cwm Y Ddraig isn’t visible to humans.” I glanced at the GPS unit in the dash. “So I assume the GPS lady is a supernatural.”

Roarke grinned. We followed the tiny lane for about fifteen minutes before pretty slate buildings appeared ahead of us. Light glowed warmly in their windows, and snow sparkled on the bushes in front of the houses.

The sound of a band of some kind—more the marching sort of band than the head-banging kind—echoed through the trees.

The houses that we passed were quiet, their dark slate roofs speckled with snow, but as we neared the center of town, the sound of revelers joined the music of the band.

“I think they’re having a festival,” I said as Roarke slowed the car to a crawl. We were near the center of town. Every inch of space around us was taken up by houses and gardens.

“What does your map say you’re looking for?” Roarke asked.

I pulled the copy of the map that Nix had made for me out of my pocket and unfolded it. I didn’t want to hurt the original. Nix’s crazy good gift for conjuring meant that the replica was an exact match—perfect in every way. The best photocopier a girl could ask for.

I peered at the faded map for a moment, waiting for the letters to make sense.

“We’re looking for the Eastern Rail,” I said.

“Does it say where it’s located? Or show a picture?”

“Nothing on the map. Give me a moment.” I closed my eyes and called upon my dragon sense, hoping to catch something. But nothing tugged at my middle. No familiar feeling of direction. I just didn’t know enough about the place. I tried to imagine what the old railway might have looked like and worked up every ounce of desire to find it that I could muster.

Still, I got nothing. Maybe I should have brought Cass or Nix along. Their stronger dragon sense would have helped.

“I have no idea,” I said. “Though this town seems really small to have a train station.”

We caught sight of the town square where colorful stalls were set up. In the middle, a band of about six played a jaunty tune. Dozens of people flocked between the stalls while thousands of twinkle lights glittered in the trees. The clouds were heavy enough overhead that the day was fairly dark, letting the twinkle lights really glow.

The mountains on the other side of town were daunting—black slate covered with patches of scrubby grass. Since most of the buildings were made of the same dark slate that formed the mountain, the place would be very bleak if it weren’t for the colorful tents and sparkling lights.

Roarke parked the car on the street near the square and cut the engine. “We’ll do the rest on foot. Poke around, ask the locals. It’ll probably be faster than driving aimlessly.”

I shoved the map back into my pocket and climbed out of the car, grateful for my warm hat and puffy coat. Though I hated to give up my black leather, Roarke had been right in suggesting the warmer alternative. North Wales in the winter was chilly.

We made our way toward the village square, passing warm pubs and closed teashops. The few people we passed were clearly supernaturals, though which type I couldn’t determine. They looked human, except for their jewel-toned eyes and the magical signatures that hung heavy in the air.

We passed a few stalls before Roarke stopped at one selling hot cocoa out of a gleaming silver carafe. The chocolatey scent made my mouth water. A woman with rosy cheeks and a colorful patchwork coat smiled at us. She was about sixty, with the look that everyone recognized as friendly mom. I might not have had one of those, but even I knew what they looked like.

“From out of town, are you?” Her accent was thick as butter, and it took me a moment to figure out what the heck she had said.

“We are.” Roarke grinned his most charming smile. “It’s a lovely village.”

The woman grinned back, and I had to admit, his smile worked on me too.

“It is, isn’t it?” she said. “What can I get you?”

“Could we have two, please?” Roarke asked, nodding toward the gleaming silver carafe.

I glanced at him. The hot chocolate sounded divine—even now, my nose was freezing into an ice cube—but we were here to work.

“But of course you could, you handsome devil.” The woman laid the flirt on thick as she prepared two takeaway cups, then passed them to us.

Roarke handed over the money and asked, “I don’t suppose you know where the Eastern Railway is?”

The woman’s gaze turned thoughtful. “No, dear. I’m sorry to say that the railway closed down about seventy years ago, so you’re a bit late to catch a train.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. And anyhow, it didn’t carry people. It carried slate from that mountain over there.” She pointed toward the massive black mountain that crouched over the village like a dragon.

Maybe that’s why I couldn’t find the station. I’d been imagining a train full of people, not a train full of slate.

“But say we were interested just in seeing it,” Roarke said. “Historical inquiry. How would we get there?”

He sold it so well that I totally bought it. We were definitely here on historical inquiry. Why wouldn’t we be? Who wouldn’t come to this lovely town to search for an old railway?

“Well now, that’s an interesting subject. After the quarry closed down, so did the rail. Though you could find the remnants of the old track by the gin distillery. Very popular, that stuff. Making a real comeback. Artisanal gins.” She nodded knowingly. “Just go around the building to the back, and you might be able to find remnants of the track. But be careful of the pixies, dear. They’re liable to steal your hat.”

“Which way is the distillery?” Roarke asked.

She pointed down the street. “Three blocks down, one over.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled. “You come back when you’re done. Another chocolate on the house.”

“Thank you,” he repeated.

I grinned bemusedly at her, then up at Roarke.

He pointed down the street, the way the woman had directed, and said, “This way, then.”

We hurried off, the warm cup of chocolate heating my hands. I took a sip and almost groaned at the chocolatey goodness.

“You bought the chocolate to make her friendlier, didn’t you?” I asked.

“And because it smelled good.” Roarke took a sip. “But yes. We didn’t want to have to poke around too much, and you never know with tiny towns like these. Sometimes they don’t like outsiders.”

“True.” We passed stalls selling savory meat pies, sausages, cakes, cookies, nuts, crafts, wooly hats, jewelry, and books. Everything you would want at a local fair.

“Do you have any idea what kind of supernaturals these are?” I whispered as we passed a group of shrieking schoolchildren who all had distinct jewel-toned eyes.

“No idea,” Roarke said. “Strong magic, though.”

We turned at the third block and went down one. The distillery was a small building with an artfully designed logo. It was quiet for the day no doubt the distillers having gone to join the party in the square.

We hurried around the building to the back. It butted up right to the woods. In the distance, the mountain glowered.

I almost groaned.

I’d bet big money that we’d be climbing that mountain before the day was over. I chucked my empty paper cup in the rubbish bin near the distillery’s back door and set off toward the woods.

Roarke and I searched through the trees and bushes, our eyes glued to the ground. Finally, I caught sight of a burnished orange color. I leaned closer.

“I found it!” I poked the old iron track with my toe.

Roarke came to my side, and I pointed into the woods. “It leads that way. The map says it joins the Lake-So-Deep.”

“Oh, good. Doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

I laughed, and we set off down the tracks, having to push our way through the bush occasionally. I could hear the chattering of the pixies in the forest around us, a high-pitched noise that was almost pleasant but wasn’t. Warily, I reached up and held on to my hat. Tiny glowing eyes peered at me from the trees.

“I sure hope these are friendly pixies,” I said.

“I’ll scare ‘em off.” Roarke glowered at them, giving them his best scary face.

I laughed. “That was terrifying!”

We stepped through the trees a half second later to see something that actually was pretty terrifying. A mirror black lake with the black mountain looming behind it.

“Oh boy,” I breathed. “You were right. It is ominous.”

We made our way quickly across the clearing to the edge of the lake and looked out at the water. Snow began to fall, white and pure until it was swallowed by the lake, which looked a heck of a lot like oil. A hazy gray mist rose from the surface, floating high into the air.

I pulled the map from my pocket and peered at it.

“It says that a boat will take us across.” I looked up, searching for a boat of any kind.

Roarke did the same. “I see nothing.”

“It would have been seventy years ago. Or longer. It looks like we’re too late.”

On the other side of the lake, massive piles of discarded slate slid off the mountain, cutting off access to the strip of shore we needed. Walking around the lake and crossing the discarded slate would be too dangerous—there could be a rockslide. I didn’t want to be crushed.

The mountain possessed the strangest topography I’d ever seen. Quarrying activities had turned it into a huge step pyramid, each level several hundred feet high. It was almost entirely black because the earth had been quarried straight down to the slate. Much of it had just been tossed aside, unused garbage. The only path up the mountain was between the two enormous piles of discarded slate, and the only way to get there was to cross the water somehow.

“I could fly us over,” Roarke said.

“No.” I glanced down at the map to confirm, then back at the lake, taking note of the black mist rising off of it. Birds circled the lake, but never flew over. Just like the map said. “We have to take a boat. There’s a warning on the map. The lake is enchanted. The black mist that comes off the surface keeps anything from flying over. Look at the birds. Whatever is at the top of the mountain, they’re determined to make you follow the map’s directions to get there. No shortcuts.”

Which was probably the real reason my dragon sense didn’t work. Magic blocked it.

Roarke craned his neck, eventually finding the birds that I pointed to. None of them flew over the lake.

“There was more than just a slate quarry on that mountain,” Roarke said.

I peered into the dark water of the lake. “And more than just fish in that water.”

We needed a boat. I’d raised one before. I could do it again. If there was one in there. “I’ve got an idea. Give me a sec.”

I shoved the map back in my pocket and closed my eyes. I didn’t know what period of boat might be sunk in that lake, but I hoped it didn’t matter. With a deep breath, I called upon my magic, trying to ignore the block that was supposed to be placed upon my mind. I couldn’t feel it, but the knowledge that it was there was unpleasant.

I could totally do this. Practice, practice, practice, like Draka had said in my dream. Just because it was unreliable didn’t mean it was impossible.

Magic sparked inside of me, a bright light that I tried to reach. I strained, desperate to catch it, as I envisioned a boat rising from the depths of the black lake. Power vibrated on the air. My power.

I wasn’t going to let some damned curse stop me. I didn’t want to live like this—only able to use my magic occasionally and if I got lucky.

“Whoa.” Roarke’s soft exhalation made me open my eyes.

A dirty wooden boat was rising out of the water, its decks covered in seaweed. The middle was broken apart, the wood splintered. I envisioned the timbers knitting themselves back together and the weeds sinking back below the surface of the lake.

Slowly, the boat did as I requested, then floated toward the shore. When it beached, the air over the deck began to shimmer. A man’s hazy outline formed.

Shit.

I didn’t want to have to deal with some miner from 1910.

I reeled my magic in, shoving it back inside of me. The man’s outline disappeared, leaving only the boat.

“Not bad,” Roarke said.

“Let’s just hope it lasts.”

I approached the boat, which was about twenty feet long with a wide, flat deck. Perfect for stacking cargo. A ragged sail hung from the mast, but four massive paddles were stacked against the side of the hull. For low-wind situations. Or for when you brought the ship up from the bottom of the lake and the sail was still in crap condition.

I climbed aboard, my feet squishing on the wood, which was still partially water-logged. Weeds scattered the deck here and there. “Not exactly in mint condition.”

Roarke stepped aboard. “It’s got a bit of Davy Jones clinging to it, but it’ll do.”

“I don’t think that sail is going to pick up any wind.” I eyed the massive holes in the fabric, then went and picked up two of the heavy paddles. I handed one to Roarke. “This might take a while.”

The lake was pretty wide. At least four hundred yards across.

We took up position on either side of the boat and began to paddle. There was no sun because of the snow clouds, but the water gleamed all the same. It was eerie.

The going was slow, and by the time we were halfway across, my muscles ached. I was glad he was here. I’d never have managed to row across by myself.

I stopped rowing and wheezed, “Break time.”

Roarke stopped paddling, and we sat dead still on the lake as I heaved to catch my breath.

Around us, the black water began to ripple, little waves that popped up out of nowhere. Magic sparked on the air, smelling like dead seaweed.

Roarke eyed the waves. “There’s no wind.”

“Yeah.” I plunged my oar back into the water, my heart starting to pound from more than just exhaustion. “This is weird. Let’s go.”

We’d barely taken a stroke before something massive plunged into the side of the boat. I stumbled, falling to my knees.

“Del! Look--” Roarke’s shout was cut off by another massive crash.

Something pushed the boat from underneath, flipping it up and over.

I crashed into the water, the freezing cold stealing my breath and sending an icepick of pain through my head. I flailed, trying to determine up and down. I opened my eyes, only able to see the tiniest glow of light. I followed the bubbles that escaped my mouth, kicking upward and stretching for the surface, only to crash into the wooden boat above.

It had capsized and was sinking! The heavy wood pushed me deeper into the water. Frantic, I kicked to the side, trying to escape the heavy press of the boat. I’d nearly reached the edge when something grabbed my ankle and pulled me deeper.

Water monster!

I screamed, losing the last of my precious air. The grip tightened as I kicked and thrashed. At best, I had a minute before I lost consciousness.

Fighting instinct kicked in, driving away the panic. I called on my Phantom form. No icy chill raced through me like it usually did. The water made me too cold for that. But my skin turned blue and transparent, lighting up the water with a glow.

A bubbly shrieking sound tore through the water, and the grip on my ankle loosened. The water monster was affected by my Phantom touch!

But my lungs still burned from lack of air. Even as a Phantom, I needed to breathe. Weakening, I kicked for the surface, wishing I was a fish shifter or something.

I’d only made it a few feet when the monster grabbed me again. It hissed, but held on, clearly desperate for this catch if he was willing to grab me.

I kicked and fought for the surface, but its grip was too strong. Panic squeezed my throat as I reached for the sword strapped to my back. The smooth, familiar grip of the hilt calmed me as I yanked it free and doubled over.

I couldn’t kill the thing while touching it. I didn’t want to inherit a water monster’s power. What if I developed an unquenchable desire to drown people? But I could try to wound it until it let me go.

My blue Phantom glow lit up the water below, shining upon the horrifying, gilled face of the water monster that had grabbed me. It was vaguely human shaped, with spindly limbs and a face like some kind of fish. Weeds waved in the water behind the monster, right in front of the gaping black mouth of a cave.

We were almost to its lair.

I swallowed my panic and swept out with my blade, my strike slow because of the water. I aimed for the arm that grabbed me. Just before the blade connected with the monster, I turned corporeal, allowing the blade to connect. The water turned dark without the blue glow of my Phantom form, but I felt the steel slice through flesh.

The grip on my ankle loosened.

I kicked for the surface, but it grabbed me again. With my lungs burning, I returned to Phantom form. Though my glow lit the water, blackness crept in at the edges of my vision.

I was nearly out of air.

Only seconds left.

I called upon my ice magic, praying it would work, and sent an icicle spear at the monster’s stomach. Magic sparked in the water as it shot forth and pierced the monster. The grip around my ankle loosened, and I kicked for the surface.

But I was too weak. The water felt like quicksand. No matter how hard I tried, my lungs and muscles burning, I only sank deeper into the water. When I hit the hard, flat bottom of the lake, my vision was almost entirely blacked out.