“It’s there,” I said peevishly. “At the bottom of the lake. But I have to swim all the way down to get to it. It’s in a black cavern, on a pedestal. Closed.” I glared at him. “For good reason.” I’d closed it that afternoon, months ago with Barrons. Whumped it firmly shut.

“Have you gone inside your head and looked at it recently,” said Ryodan.

“Nope.” Not about to either. Knowing my luck, it would be open to an extremely useful spell that I’d begin to think I might want, or need, or possibly not be able to live without.

“I want you to,” Ryodan said.

“Are you on board with this?” I fired at Barrons.

His dark eyes flashed. We all have our inner beasts.

And you think you can manage mine? I shot back.

I think I do a damn fine job. Images of what we’d just done surfaced in his eyes.

That’s different.

We control ours. It took time.

How much time?

We made mistakes, was all he said.

You want me to look.

I want this world. I want you. It may be the only way. I see no other alternatives at present. If there’s a way inside you to stop the black holes from destroying Earth, we need it.

I want you. Those three simple words. They undo me. Melt me. Forge me into steel stronger than I am. Barrons’s belief in me is pure titanium.

Over millennia, searching for the spell to free my son, I never once caught wind of anything reputed to contain part of the Song of Making aside from the Book I hunted.

Millennia, he’d said. Barrons had lived for thousands of years. It was one thing to suspect it, another to hear him admit it. My lover was thousands of years old. I was twenty-three. No wonder we had issues.

I frowned, recalling something else I knew about that might be of use to us now. A thing I’d seen in the White Mansion when I was hunting with Darroc for the Silver back to Dublin.

But I’d been stoically refusing to think about it ever since I realized what I had inside me, unwilling to let my inner beast catch wind of it, if it hadn’t already.

I sighed. “I’ll take a look. But if I go batshit crazy down there, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Go?” Ryodan said, his inflection clearly implying he thought I was already there.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “If I’m going to do this, I need a drink first.”

“I’ll have one sent up,” Ryodan said. “Name your poison.”

“I want to get it myself,” I said coolly, aware I was only trying to stave off the inevitable. But I wanted to walk somewhere of my own volition, feel alive and free for a few more minutes before I risked body and soul.

“We’ll all get one,” he said, pushing up from behind his desk.

When I walked down the chrome and glass stairs with Barrons on my left, Ryodan on my right, I could have been slain by the daggers of envy shot my way, from every subclub below.

If only they knew.

—

I would have opted for the Sinatra club but Ryodan saw Christian looming darkly at the bar and steered us away.

To the kiddie subclub where Jo worked, wearing a short, kicky plaid skirt, white blouse, and baby doll heels, looking pretty, her short dark hair highlighted with gold and blond. She came to wait on us with a wary look when Ryodan gestured, but he only ordered three glasses of Macallan, Rare Cask, with the blandest of expressions. As she hurried away to fill the order, I sensed a stir in the crowd on the dance floor.

I looked around, trying to decide what was causing it, and realized the crowd was parting for some reason, allowing someone or something’s passage.

Jo deposited two fingers of rare cask scotch in front of me. I picked it up, swirled it and sipped appreciatively. I watched, waiting, and finally a woman came into view, heads turning as she passed.

Jada.

Abso-frigging-lutely stunning in a red dress and heels. Bare-legged, hair scraped back high from that beautiful face, ponytail nearly brushing her ass as she walked. Her skin was smooth and creamy, her face smoother, her eyes flashing banked heat. I could make out Dancer’s head behind her, taller than her, even with her wearing heels. Unlike one of the Nine, he wasn’t shadowing her every move, using his body to lead and block. He merely walked with her.

Dani was all grown up, wearing a dress that fit her like a second skin. And that walk! Graceful, long-legged power and heat. Awareness that she was gorgeous.

Dani didn’t swagger anymore.

She strutted. She prowled. She stalked, owning the ground she walked on.

And she was setting the men on fire as she passed. Humans and Fae alike watched her go, coveting, lusting. She shined. Even though she wasn’t our Dani anymore, there was something utterly brilliant about her, almost luminous. Oh, there was still fire within. I’d bet my sanity on it. Well, wait, that wasn’t necessarily a solid bet. I’d bet my right arm.

She wasn’t oblivious to the attention. She simply didn’t care.

I glanced at Ryodan. I don’t know why. I guess I’m always mining for gold where there is none. His face was as smooth as Jada’s.

But those eyes, those cool silver eyes, were flashing with a similar banked heat. He looked up. Down. Up again. Lingered. Then sharply away.

I thought for a moment Jada and Dancer were coming to see us but they detoured and went right instead of straight.

“Odd way to dress for an investigation,” Barrons murmured.

“She’s not Dani anymore,” Ryodan clipped.

“Would you rather she had on jeans and sneakers?” I said.