Fake Rhys roared and pushed forward, arms outstretched as he chased me. Up ahead, Real Rhys was whispering furiously at the tattoos I’d given him, willing them to form into three dimensional weapons. The knives Fake Rhys had claimed were gone suddenly sprang to life and found their way into Real Rhys’s hands as he ran for us. I gathered my own magic faster than I ever had before, and the ropes I’d tattooed on my own skin sprang forth. I whispered the phrase I knew would activate the magic, nothing more than a few broken words paired with my own strength of intention, and the ropes spun out into the air, wrapping themselves almost instantly around Fake Rhys’ ankles. They tightened into a lasso and then yanked hard.

He went down with a loud grunt.

Real Rhys reached me and pulled me against him in a fierce hug. He ran a hand over my hair and down my neck then pulled back long enough to search my face. “You’re all right?”

“I’m good.”

“How did you know it was me?” he asked while Fake Rhys thrashed on the ground nearby.

I rolled my eyes. “You weren’t nearly as paranoid with worry for me as usual. And when I told you to follow me, you did it without question. That was a dead giveaway.”

Real Rhys grinned and planted a hard kiss on my mouth. “Don’t ever change.”

It was all we had time for before Fake Rhys was groaning and pushing up on his hands. When he raised his head, his eyes were ringed in a bright yellow that was definitely not a trait he’d stolen from Rhys.

“Gwen, get back,” Rhys said, already shoving me aside as he brandished his knives.

Fake Rhys was already working at untangling the ropes, but my magic held them in place. Still, it wasn’t enough to stand against whatever he had. When his hands couldn’t untie them, he wrapped his fingers around the rope and whispered words I didn’t understand. The ropes slipped free, their spell broken.

He sprang to his feet as the ropes melted into thin air, the spellwork having run its course. Real Rhys was ready. In a move too fast for me to see, Fake Rhys drew his own set of knives, and the two men launched themselves into a violent dance accompanied by the sound of clanking metal and soft grunts.

They moved almost too fast for me to keep up with, and I knew if a human happened along, we were all going to be in a world of trouble for it. The only glamour left was the magic that held our human disguise in place. But reflexes, strength, speed, magic—it was all out there. And it was only a matter of time before the police or Elsmed or someone came along and noticed.

The longer they fought, the more I realized what an even match they were. Leaps, stabs, and parries—they moved like carbon copies of one another. Probably because they were. My anxiety left my palms clammy and Ethan practically wringing his wings in helplessness.

I had to end this. Now.

The first specks of magic on my arm sprang to life at my coaxing. Translucent images of knives and bindings, more rope like the coil I’d already unleashed and even zip ties. I kept concentrating, my impatience threatening to weaken the whole thing. But Rhys needed me, and I finally understood—and gave myself permission to use—what was really available to me. For so long, I’d held back on this part of myself, because I’d been terrified it would be used to hurt others, but I couldn’t hold back anymore. It was time to use all of it.

I kept calling on the magic that was laced into the ink I wore. The weapons materialized in my hands, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

Before my eyes, Fake Rhys began to change form. First, his skin tone darkened until his hands and face were a darker brown than they’d been before.

While they fought, the rest of the dark fae’s features changed until he no longer looked like Rhys at all. His big eyes glowed that same strange yellow as I’d seen before. His nose grew longer, and his lips thinned. His cheeks sank in, revealing a much leaner form than he’d had as Fake Rhys. His ears elongated until they came to a point, and he rose in height until he towered over the real Rhys.

I gasped as the rest of the dark fae’s glamour dropped and his magic filled the air around me. It felt like invisible hands grabbing at my throat and choking me until I couldn’t breathe. I coughed, then dropped to my knees as the invisible hands tightened to cut off my air completely. Dark spots danced in front of my eyes, but no matter how hard I pried, I couldn’t pull the pressure away. I couldn’t even get a hold on the invisible force.

Rhys heard my wheezing and turned, but the dark fae used the distraction to his advantage, and I watched in silent horror as the dark fae’s knife sliced a gash in Rhys’s cheek. Blood rose to the surface and then began to drip down Rhys’s face.

I tried to scream but no sound came.

Rhys stumbled back, wincing and trying to regain his focus as he pressed his free hand to his cheek. The dark fae didn’t chase him, and instead, he stared intently at where I knelt on the snow. His forehead creased in concentration, and I knew he was putting all his effort into attacking me now.

Desperate, I fought harder against the invisible hands at my throat, but it was no use. I waited for the moment the hands would tighten and I’d suffocate completely, but the pressure remained the same.

Slowly, my energy began to drain and my body sagged as if something or someone were siphoning my strength. One by one, the magic in the tattoos I wore began to blink out. I could feel the moment they left my body, and more than that, I could feel my own well of untapped magic growing smaller and smaller. I tried calling out to Ethan, but there was only silence where our bond had been before.

More tattoos began to appear on the dark fae, until his skin was just as covered with them as I was. Some of them glowed and some pulsed, and his eyes gleamed brighter as if the tattoos themselves were energizing him now.

Rhys roared and ran at the dark fae with his knives raised, but the dark fae parried easily and swiped the knives away. It was clear that whatever magic the dark fae was taking from me now was fueling him. If we wanted to beat him, I had to break free of his attempt to rob me of my magic

I had to take his instead.

The invisible hands around my throat remained, and the pressure was just enough to let me take small sips of air. He wanted me conscious, for now anyway. I didn’t have much time, but I was determined not to let this asshole win.

My mother had said in her letter that someday they would hide from me. Today was going to be that day.

I gave up fighting against the invisible force around my throat, and instead, I put all my energy into the magic the dark fae was sucking out of me.

The magic resisted at first, and I felt like I’d been caught in a massive game of tug of war. I was sweating with the effort of calling my magic back to me, but a moment later, the pressure around my throat eased slightly. Rhys continued to circle and stab at the dark fae, and even though he wasn’t making much progress with his weapons, I knew he was saving me by keeping the asshole distracted.

It was exactly what I needed now.

I kept pulling.

With a groan, I yanked one final time and took back the last of my magic. The tattoos remained on the dark fae’s skin, but they no longer pulsed for him, and I knew they would answer only to me.

Using every ounce of magic I had inside me, I called out loud to the tattoos that covered the dark fae’s skin. “Answer me! I am your master. Not him. Activate!”

Like I was the pied piper of ink, the tattoos peeled away from the stranger’s skin and began to take form. I held my breath, hoping like hell my magic was capable of everything I suspected.

Rhys cried out, and I almost lost my hold on the magic as I jerked my attention to the two men. Both of them were winded now, their chests heaving as they stood several feet apart and eyed each other. Rhys bent over, cradling his arm. The dark fae stood tall, eyeing the injury with a look of triumph.

Fear, more real than anything I’d experienced so far, stilled me. If anything happened to Rhys . . . it wouldn’t matter if I won. Not if I couldn’t share the victory with him.

“Your warrior is no match for me.” The dark fae sneered and then started for me.

Fear almost drowned me as I noticed how much the real Rhys was struggling to stay on his feet.

“And your magic is no match for mine,” I shot back.

“My tattoos have been inked by some of the most powerful fae in the world,” he said. “You are nothing compared to them. I took their power for my own, and I’ll do the same to you. It is time to give your magic over to me.”

The invisible hands brushed my throat again, and I scrambled back. If he was telling the truth, that meant I wasn’t the first fae he’d come across with my particular gift. If he weren’t trying to kill me for it, I might have been tempted to ask him about them, but those answers would have to wait.

Rhys lunged forward, knife out, distracting the dark fae once again. But I knew this burst of energy was temporary for him. If he was wounded . . . I didn’t want to think about that. Or whether my preparations would be enough.

“Hang on,” I called out, and then refocused everything I had back to the magic I’d called up.

Like ripping off a Band-Aid, all of the tattoos suddenly peeled away from the dark fae’s skin. Not just the ones I’d felt him steal from me, but all of them. Even the ancient ink, probably from the fae he’d mentioned, ripped away from his flesh at my command.

The dark fae screamed, and I smiled grimly in satisfaction.

One by one, the tattoos floated up into the air, and then I used my magic to snuff them out. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d imagined it to be. In fact, so much of their magic had already been poured out, they snapped like twigs against my will. When a particularly dark symbol lifted and vanished alongside the others, the dark fae stumbled. The glow in his creepy eyes dimmed.

“Whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” Rhys yelled.

I worked harder at snuffing out the magic of the tattoos he wore. With each one, he looked visibly weaker and slower, and I realized he stored everything in the ink. His ability to steal an appearance, the invisible hands he’d used to choke me, and finally, an intricate rune offering healing from any physical injury. Spells. They’d all been spells he’d stolen from other fae he’d hunted. One by one, I stripped them all until I could feel his magic waning.

When I got to the healing rune, I glanced over at Rhys and nodded.

“Now, Rhys,” I yelled as I crushed the rune’s magic with my own.

It shattered and then vanished like a dust cloud above my head.

“This is for Aelwyn,” Rhys yelled, and I shivered at the depth of feeling in his words.

A second later, Rhys sent his knife flying through the air and the blade sank into the dark fae’s stomach, sending the asshole to his knees.

The tendrils of invisible pressure vanished. I scrambled to my feet and rushed over to the dark fae now lying on the ground, my Rhys standing over him, his knife dripping with the fae’s blood.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

He remained silent.

I crushed two more of his magical tattoos, and he winced. It gave me a sense of satisfaction to know it hurt him.

“Who are you?” I repeated.

“I am Cael, warrior for the Unseelie Court.”

“You’re a thief,” Rhys spat as he wiped the blood from the cut on his cheek.

“You were sent by the Unseelie Court to steal my magic?” I asked.

Cael nodded, then winced, clutching at the wound on his stomach, which was bleeding a lot more heavily now than before I’d removed his healing rune.

“Why do you have tattoos?” I demanded.

“You are not the only fae who can bring their art to life,” he said. “The Unseelie see the value in this gift, even if your own people do not.”

“You mean you see how it can be used to hurt people,” I said.

“Yes, I am aware of the Seelie’s distaste for doing what must be done. It is why I am not here to recruit you.”

“You act like you’re doing me a favor by trying to steal my magic and then kill me,” I said.

Cael sighed, but he didn’t bother to argue. “We’ve been looking for you for a long time, but you were undetectable for years. Then Walter . . .” He broke off and started coughing.

“Walter hired you to take revenge on me because he thought I’d helped kill his sister,” I finished.

Cael nodded. “His need for vengeance brought you to me on a silver platter. It also made him weak and easy to kill when it served me.”

I resisted the urge to kick him for that. “But then you got a little carried away, didn’t you?”

He coughed again. “Your magic is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Even your mother—” He broke off, and I knelt, grabbing him by the collar. Suddenly, any hesitation I’d had over actually causing another creature harm vanished.

“What do you know about my mother?” I demanded.

“I know you’re already more powerful than her if you’ve just destroyed my healing rune.” He coughed.

Rhys looked up at me sharply, questions in his eyes, and I realized he had no idea what I’d done, because he’d been too busy fighting Cael. I ignored his confusion, my questions burning a hole right through me.

“What did you do to her?” I demanded.

“Moonlaith is well hidden. Well protected,” Cael muttered, as if he hated that fact.

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, I saw that they were no longer glowing. Probably a product of his life force draining. My shoulders sagged in quiet relief. My mother was alive. Wherever she was, she was alive.

“Her warrior was fierce,” he added. “Like yours. He gave himself up to protect her and she escaped our grasp. We have not been able to get close to her since then.”

In an instant, my relief vanished and was replaced by fury.

Rhys had said my mother’s warrior had died protecting her, and that meant—

“You killed my father,” I said through clenched teeth.

“I was following orders,” Cael said, and his dismissive tone only made me angrier.

“Gwen, someone’s coming,” Rhys warned, and I looked up to see a couple of men approaching from across the property. They were still pretty far off, but I couldn’t afford anyone to notice the amount of magic I was wielding just now. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it now,” Rhys added.

I didn’t hesitate.

Sparks flew in more ways than one. All around me, magic snapped and crackled and left tiny sparks in its wake. Like sharpened flint grating against stone, heat surged in the air between the three of us, filling the space with electricity. My fingertips tingled even before I reached for Rhys. When my hand slid into his, my body thrummed.

One by one, Cael’s tattoos shattered, and the magic was stripped from his skin. Tiny specks of light blinked on and off over our heads while I worked, and I knew it was the last of the magic snuffing out of each one of his inked spells. I could only hope those approaching were too far off to notice.

Rhys stood watching in silent wonder.

At my feet, I felt the last of Cael’s life force drain away. The remnants of his tattoos and any spells inside them drained right along with his final breath. On a gasp, he shuddered and then fell still, dead.

I waited to see if any of the familiar guilt would come, but I felt only relief, and a small sense of justice. Aelwyn’s killer was dead. I had killed him, but in doing so, I’d avenged both her and a father I would never meet. I was probably going to have nightmares from the entire thing, but I didn’t regret what I’d done.

Beside me, Rhys squeezed my hand, and I looked up at him. His cheek was still bloody, and I remembered one last magical tattoo we still needed. With a muttering of words, the bandages on my inner wrist came to life. They took shape and dimension and then landed, wrapping around Rhys’s injured arm and cheek.

He looked over at me in amusement. “Hardly important, considering.”

“You are always important,” I told him.

His eyes held mine, and I felt a thousand promises pass between us, unspoken. It should have felt new, this . . . thing between us. The way he rooted me to this spot with just a look and an unspoken commitment in his eyes. But it wasn’t new. It had existed from the moment we’d met. The only difference between then and now was that we’d decided to acknowledge it and to let it in. We’d stopped running from it.

“It’s over,” I said, my voice hushed. I knew, logically, talking aloud wouldn’t break the spell, because there was no spell. Not anymore. There was just us. The magic that was my love for him and his for me. But I whispered anyway.

Rhys watched me, eyes glittering. “You did it,” he answered, stepping closer so that there was no more space between us.

I ran my finger over his tattoo, the still-healing lines raised into ridges on his skin. “I can’t believe . . . I can’t believe it’s over.”

“You were amazing.”

I shook my head. “Not just me,” I said. “You were . . . You didn’t leave.”

His brow shot up. “You thought I’d leave you?”

“You were supposed to get Elsmed if—”

“The only thing I’m supposed to do is kiss my girl.”

“Right now? In front of all these people?” I became aware of the crowd we’d drawn, and my cheeks heated at the awareness. The figures we’d seen approaching were a few of the partygoers who had wandered far enough outside to notice the commotion we’d caused. Women in flowing gowns clutched at the arms of their dates, necks craning toward us to get a good look. No one approached, and I could only assume none of them had grown bold enough yet. But they would eventually.

“Damn straight,” Rhys shot back, tightening his arm around me. “They need to know you’re not available.” His kiss was hard and fast and full of flourish; a message—like he’d just said.

We earned a few whistles before I pulled away, laughing softly before I could stop myself. “Show-off,” I muttered.

“You just killed an Unseelie warrior without laying a finger on him, and I’m the show-off?”

“Point taken.” My half-formed smile disappeared. “Oh, God. Here comes Sheriff Kasun.”

Sure enough, a growling sheriff was shoving through the crowd. Deputy Conall was at his heels, still picking what looked like spider webs from his uniform.

I tensed, turning to face the sheriff so that Rhys and I stood shoulder to shoulder. Rhys squeezed my hand, but he didn’t say a word as the sheriff nodded curtly at us both. His sharp blue eyes were unreadable other than the glances he threw at the cleanup crew gathering to my left. The team was a mixture of witches who I knew stood ready to investigate whether any humans had witnessed the supernatural events that had taken place here tonight. If anyone had, the witches would make sure no one remembered any of it by the time they walked away.

“Thank you all for your concern here tonight, but everything’s under control,” the sheriff said authoritatively. “If you’ll all please step to the left and give a statement to someone from our team, we’d appreciate it. Once you’re done there, you’ll be free to return to the party.”

The crowd took off in pairs and small groups, marching toward the team that waited for them.

When they were out of earshot, the sheriff turned back to face us, his gaze lingering on the dead man behind us. “So, either you’ve upped your body count, Miss Facharro, or the two of you have done me a solid and caught a killer tonight.”

“Uh, definitely the second thing,” I said.

“Not bad for our first date,” Rhys said with a smile.

The sheriff eyed him, then me, noting our formalwear. “How romantic.”

I glared at him. “You’re not seriously still going to treat me like a suspect, are you?” I demanded.

“You never were a suspect, Miss Facharro. You did obstruct justice by tampering with evidence that first night, which put you at the top of my shit list for a while.”

I gaped at him, but in the end, I couldn’t argue with his claim. I’d definitely made a mess of that crime scene—unknowingly, but still.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“I thought you said—” Rhys began with a frown.

“Son, I think it’s time we had a talk about your access to confidential case information where Miss Facharro’s concerned,” Sherriff Kasun interrupted.

“I’m authorized, as her Protector, to—”

“You’re a lot more than that, though, aren’t you?” Sherriff Kasun gave him a look and he looked back at me, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Yes, sir,” he said quietly.

“Precisely. Anyway, I’ve got a team on the way to process the body you’ve brought me tonight,” the sheriff went on. “And I suspect the energy signature will match the unauthorized portal entry from a while back. While we wait, why don’t you tell me what happened here tonight.”

“Sir, you’re also going to want to send a team upstairs,” Deputy Conall said.

Sheriff Kasun followed Conall’s glance up to the balcony I’d fallen from earlier. “We got another body up there?”

“Not a body per se,” Deputy Conall said slowly.

“What the hell is it?” Sheriff Kasun demanded.

“A ghost,” Deputy Conall said on a sigh. “He’ll need to be charged with conspiracy to commit murder—among other things.”

“A . . .?” Sheriff Kasun stared at him and then finally drew a long breath, shaking his head. “Can we ever have a normal night? All right. Call in a second team.”

Deputy Conall nodded and hurried off, pulling his phone out.

At the same moment, Elsmed appeared, clearly rattled. “Well?” he demanded.

“What?” Sheriff Kasun frowned.

“Is someone here going to tell me why I received a note from a salty vampire to meet you all at the tattoo shop when you’re all clearly still here?”

Sheriff Kasun pinned me with a look. “You. Tragic Ink. Start talking.”