My mind glazed over as my eyes skimmed down the list again, not really registering the contents. Not that I needed to; I already had them memorized. The Aery delegate required the summit to take place in a building at least five stories high with access to a landing pad on the roof. The Church council insisted iron screens should separate each attendee as a precaution against the use of magic, while the Lord of Enchantment wanted to create a ritual circle around the room that would prevent the attending humans from lying. The UN chairman needed to live stream the negotiations to the leaders of every represented nation, while the Lord of Illusion believed the entire summit should take place behind closed doors. One group demanded meat be served with every meal, while another called for an entirely vegan menu. And on and on. . . . I felt like a crisis negotiator in a room where every person was both hostage and gunman, trying to decipher which concessions I could get away with and which might make someone snap and start shooting.

I set the paper back on its stack and rubbed my eyes. Between days spent at the Paranatural Task Force headquarters helping David sort out the details of the largest interspecies conference ever attempted and nights spent trying to imbue amulets that would protect vampires from sunlight, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept for more than two consecutive hours.

“Yes!” David, seated on the other side of his desk, thrust his fist into the air, exposing the Mediterranean tan of his forearm. Dark curls bounced around his ears and forehead, emphasizing his enthusiasm. He grinned, showing off straight teeth that couldn’t have gotten that white without help and brown eyes that crinkled at the corners along well-established laugh lines.

“Good news?” I sat up a little straighter, shaking off my stupor.

He set down his phone and brushed imaginary dust off his security chief uniform, looking remarkably pleased with himself. “I just secured a viable location for the summit.”

“Seriously?” I asked. “You found something that meets all the parameters? Where?”

“A new resort that’s being renovated just outside of Colorado Springs. It’s owned by Cole Barlowe.”

“Why does that name sound familiar?”

“He’s an entrepreneur who does a lot of philanthropic work for One Earth. He’s sort of become their unofficial spokesperson.”

“Right.” I could picture him now—a stocky, compact man with dark hair, a square jaw, rectangular glasses, and custom-tailored business suits. I’d last seen him shaking hands with Ann Hayworth, one of the founders of the One Earth movement, on the evening news. He’d donated a sizable amount to the organization’s global outreach project to promote interspecies tolerance. He was exactly the kind of public figure we needed to back this conference. “Good work.”

“Actually, he contacted me,” David said.

I frowned. “Let me guess. He wants One Earth to have a seat at the table?” I looked at the pile of request forms in front of me and sighed. One Earth members tended to have open minds, which could improve our chances of securing the peace I was hoping for, but my head was already threatening to explode from trying to manage all the attendees’ conflicting requirements.

“That puts us at six confirmed fae in attendance, representing Illusion, Shadows, Enchantment, the Undine, the Aery, and the Shifters.” I raised one finger for each. “Four seats for the humans—the Paranatural Task Force, the United Nations, the Unified Church, and now One Earth.” I stared at the last finger I’d raised. “Shit. If we let One Earth attend, Purity is sure to demand a seat as well.”

“Relax,” David said. “One Earth doesn’t want a seat. Barlowe gets a PR boost for his new resort, and we get a location at which to conduct our business. Win-win.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s the deal.” David returned my glare. “Speaking of seats . . .”

Uh oh.

“All the major fae realms are confirmed,” he continued, “as are the significant human players. We have the practitioners and werewolves covered.” His eyes softened with sympathy. “We can’t wait forever, Alex. If the vampires want to be included, they’ll need to make themselves known.”

I looked away.

Last month, my boyfriend, James, and I were whisked away by representatives of the vampire council to stand trial for crimes against their species. I’d bought forgiveness with the promise of induction into the Paranatural Alliance and a seat at the summit where the fate of all paranaturals in the Mortal Realm would be decided. The fact that most humans didn’t realize vampires were real presented a problem. The fact that the fae were all too aware of vampires and objected to their very existence presented another. But neither issue was why I was dragging my feet on making the necessary introductions.

I bit the inside of my lower lip and twisted the woven fabric ring on my left hand. Images of James danced through my head—memories of our time together bound to the ring by magic to make the distance between us more bearable. I strummed the silver thread anchored to my soul and felt a whisper of response from half a world away—too far for words, or even feelings, but enough to know he was still alive—a cold comfort that highlighted the terrible ache in my heart caused by his absence.

I released the ring, and the memories faded. In their place I pictured the towering pile of scrap metal stacked at the end of my workbench at home—my failed attempts to free James from his current imprisonment. So long as James was the only vampire capable of walking in daylight, he would be the council’s figurehead, their puppet, and their prisoner. He’d also have a target the size of Texas painted on his back for every Purist vigilante with a grudge against magical beings and every fae who wanted to prevent vampires from being seen as more than monsters. Our dream of a quiet life together would go up in smoke.

There were three and a half months until the agreed-upon date for the summit. I had to provide the council with an alternative before then, but all the sleepless nights in my studio had proven fruitless so far. By the terms of our deal, I needed seven functional daywalking amulets to buy James’s freedom. I had yet to make a single one.

“I just need a little more time,” I said. “Once I get James out of the hot seat, we can bring the vampires’ petition to the Paranatural Alliance and let them take it from there.”

David frowned. “You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends like this, Alex.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do. You’re running yourself ragged.”

My cell phone rang and I swiped to answer, grateful for the interruption. I knew I couldn’t defer the moment of revealing the vampires’ desire to join the summit forever, but once I kicked that first stone it would become an avalanche that I couldn’t stop. I had to get James clear first. I lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Maggie!” My spirits lifted, as they always did when I heard Maggie’s London accent. “How are you?”

“I’m home.”

“Wait, what?” My mind stuttered. Maggie, her husband, and my fae court tutor had taken on the task of weening a group of goblin fruit-addicted children off the deadly faerie drug and returning them to their families. I knew they were wrapping up, but . . . “I thought you weren’t getting back until next week.” I frantically tried to map the past month in my head. Had I lost a whole week somewhere amid all those long hours and sleepless nights?

“We moved up our timetable.”

“Why?” I asked, suddenly panicked. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you at dinner. My place. One hour. Bring David.”

I glanced at David. “How did you—”

“I need to get back to cooking,” Maggie said. “One hour. We’ll talk then.”

* * *

Despite driving separately, David and I walked side-by-side up the concrete path to Maggie’s narrow, three-story townhouse. The orange glow of half a dozen streetlamps spaced evenly along the road pushed back the vast purple twilight of the star-studded sky. The moon had yet to make an appearance. A cool breeze brushed my face and ruffled my hair. I tucked the wayward strands behind my ear and stepped onto the stamp-sized porch, raising my hand to knock.

The Tardis-blue door swung open before my knuckles made contact.

Maggie stood two inches shorter than me, though the bouncy halo of her black curls more than made up the difference. The warm tones of her dark skin conspired with the rosy light of her hall lamp to give her a reddish glow. She wore white slippers, gray sweatpants with an elastic panel at the top, and a pink shirt stretched tight across a belly that looked ready to burst. She glanced at her watch. “Only three minutes late. I’m impressed.”

“A whole week early,” I reminded her.

She grinned and pulled me into a tight embrace, made all the tighter by the bulge of her pregnant belly.

I accepted the crushing hug, receiving with it a faceful of hair that carried a strong floral scent. “It’s good to see you, Mags.”

She stepped back and said to David, “Charlie could use a hand in the kitchen.”

“Yes, ma’am.” David gestured as though tipping an invisible hat, a habit he’d picked up from his latest boyfriend, and slipped past us.

Maggie pulled me inside and closed the door. “You look knackered,” she said.

I arched an eyebrow. “And you look ready to pop. How are you feeling?”

She chuckled. “My ankles are swollen, my hips hurt, and I have to pee every five minutes, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Maggie jerked. “Oh!” She grabbed my hand and pressed it flat to her swollen stomach. “You have to feel this.”

I tensed, uncomfortable with the strangely intimate contact, but before I could pull my hand away, a wave of motion rippled under my palm. I froze, staring at my splayed fingers. The rippling motion happened again. My gaze snapped to Maggie’s.

She beamed at me. “We’ve decided to name him Alexander, after his Auntie Alex, who’s doing her best to make the world a better place for the next generation.”

My throat constricted. Tears pricked my eyes. I shook my head. “I don’t deserve that.”

“Bollocks,” she said. “You’re the kindest, bravest person I know.”

I snorted. “Funny. I could say the same thing about you. I got dragged into this mess, but you. . . . You voluntarily put your life on hold to take care of other people’s sick kids.” I shook my head. “You’re amazing.”

“Well, it wasn’t entirely altruistic. As you may recall, my life here had already hit a bit of a dead end, what with Purists vandalizing my bookstore every other day and Charlie losing his job for being a One Earth supporter.”

“A weaker person would have taken that as a sign to cut ties with paranaturals, not jump in deeper.”

Maggie shrugged. “No one gets to decide who I care about but me.”

An overwhelming sense of gratitude swept over me. I hugged her again, hunching to avoid pressing too hard against the precious cargo sandwiched between us. “Thanks for being my friend, Maggie.”

She returned the hug, then stepped to arm’s length. “You’re not a friend, Alex.”

I stiffened.

“Auntie, remember?” She squeezed my shoulders. “You’re family.” She folded her arms and leveled her “no-arguments” stare at me. “I fully expect you to spoil this baby.”

I laughed. “I’ll remind you of that when he becomes an unholy terror.”

Shaking my head, I gazed at Maggie’s abdomen and imagined the baby inside. I’d known Maggie was pregnant for months now, but seeing her ready to burst like this, feeling the baby move, knowing his name, it finally felt real. Knowing Alexander would be opening his eyes soon filled me with a rush of joy, protectiveness, and . . . envy.

James and I had never discussed having children. From my forays into his memories, I knew he’d had children as a human—children who’d died before his transformation. Maybe he didn’t want any more. I wasn’t sure if vampires could even have children in the traditional sense. If he could, would I want that?

I imagined trying to protect a child throughout everything that had happened in the past year: being hunted then hired by the PTF; deadly parties and secret prisons; large-scale battles and quiet betrayals. Even a purely human child would face dangers. For someone like me to have a child, well . . . What would that child even be?

I shook my head, trying to shake off my spiraling thoughts. The point is moot unless I can get James away from the council.

The clink of porcelain drew my attention through a doorway that led to the dining room at the back of the house, where I spotted my one remaining roommate, Emma. She wore a tie-dyed hoodie with the sleeves pushed up. Her short black hair had grown out enough to drape her forehead in a mohawk-like swoosh that stopped just short of her clouded eyes. A quiet smile curved her lips as she circled the oak table, laying out plates as confidently as any sighted person.

“So . . . all the kids have been returned to their families?” I asked.

Maggie followed my gaze. “We dropped the last one off this afternoon,” she said quietly.

“Emma was there?”

Maggie nodded.

The last child . . . Emma’s sister, May. I recalled the anguish in Loni’s expression when she told us her daughter was missing. Yeah, having kids was terrifying.

“How did it go?”

Maggie gave me a small shove in Emma’s direction. “Ask her.”

She waddled into the kitchen, where I could hear David and Charlie talking. I headed for the dining room.

“Hey, Alex,” Emma said without looking up. She set a fork on a napkin. “How goes the summit prep?”

“David may have secured a location,” I said.

“That’s great!”

I nodded, knowing her otherworldly awareness would convey the gesture despite her lack of conventional sight. She and her practitioner-mentor Luke were still trying to figure out how Emma’s new abilities actually worked, but she seemed to be able to sense patterns in the Rift—the chaotic realm of energy from which magic was channeled.

I grabbed a pile of knives from the center of the table and started laying one beside each fork. “How’s May?”

Emma hesitated, fork halfway to a napkin, then she completed the motion. “She’s good. Healthy. Maggie and Hortense did a great job purging the goblin fruit.”

“And Loni?” I asked more quietly.

Emma set the last fork down and straightened, looking straight at me with her distant, unfocused gaze. “Mom was . . . okay. She’s relieved to have May home.”

“You didn’t stay,” I noted carefully. When May went missing, Emma’s mother had blamed Emma, claiming that by taking and passing the practitioner test, Emma had painted a target on their whole family. Loni wasn’t wrong about magic-users being persecuted, but in that case it had been Emma’s connection to me that put May in the crosshairs, not magic in general. And since magic also saved her daughter, Loni had seemed a little less hateful the last time we spoke. I hoped, now that May was home, Emma and her mom could mend that bridge.

“Mom and May have a lot to catch up on, and some important decisions to make. They need time.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself. “But Mom suggested I should come back in a day or two. Once May is settled.”

I smiled. “That’s progress.”

I finished the final setting, then I frowned and counted the plates. Six. “Who’s the extra seat for?”

“That would be mine.” Hortense swept into the room behind me and settled herself at the head of the table.

Even fully glamoured to look like a harmless old lady, the river hag Hortense made an imposing sight. She sat ramrod straight with her bony fingers folded neatly on her lap. Her pointed chin and high cheekbones hinted at the true shape of her face, but her pale, age-spotted complexion was nothing like the leathery green skin I knew hid under the shimmer of her magic. Long steel-gray hair was twisted into a complex collection of pinned braids atop her head, showing off the magically rounded tips of her ears. Dark eyes, devoid of their natural red hue, found mine, and when she spoke, the tips of her teeth were blunted. If not for the brocade Victorian dress she wore, the fae tutor would have fit right in at any human town.

I smoothed my hands self-consciously over my wrinkled T-shirt, glad I was at least wearing jeans without holes in them. “I thought you went back to Enchantment through the Appalachian Reservation as soon as the kids were clear of their goblin fruit addictions.”

She looked down her nose at me. A neat trick since I was standing and she wasn’t. “I’ve agreed to stay in the Mortal Realm a while longer to help Margaret write her book.”

I blinked. “Her what now?”

“Surprise,” Maggie chimed as she led Charlie and David into the dining room, each carrying a tray of food. The smells—sweet, savory, and a little tart—made my mouth water.

Maggie’s husband, who was my height but quite a bit softer around the middle, set an earthenware bowl of garlicky sauteed Brussels sprouts and onions on the table. He patted me on the back. “It’s good to see you, Alex.”

“You too, Charlie,” I mumbled, but my attention stayed fixed on Maggie.

“Remember how I told you I was starting a new project?” she said.

I nodded.

“I’m compiling a survival guide for humans interacting with fae flora and fauna.”

I stared at her for a moment, then swung my gaze back to Hortense. “And you’re helping her?” From what I’d experienced, fae were extremely protective of their secrets. I couldn’t imagine a project like this would go over well with the courts and their lords.

The fae tutor smiled. “I won’t be giving away any military secrets,” she said. “And it’s refreshing to share my knowledge with a student who actually wants to learn.”

Ouch.

“Okay, but is that really a good idea right now? I know you never had a proper visa to begin with, but since the PTF revoked all fae rights in the Mortal Realm, Purity has gotten a lot more ballsy. If they find you, it could not only cost you your life but lead to trouble for Maggie and her family as well.”

“I have permission and protection from the PTF,” Hortense said. “Mr. Nolan here was kind enough to procure paperwork for a special dispensation.”

My jaw dropped. I snapped my teeth closed and turned to “Mr. Nolan.” “I thought special dispensations were only for diplomatic liaisons integral to planning the summit.”

David set a platter of cherry-glazed pork chops beside Charlie’s sprouts and took a seat, motioning for me to do likewise. “Technically, a special dispensation can be granted to anyone who is doing work that the PTF deems ‘invaluable.’”

I settled into a chair, giving him a shrewd look. “Maggie’s book—”

“Is something the PTF is very interested in seeing published,” he confirmed. “Director Harris approved the paperwork last week.”

Having first-hand accounts of some of the dangers of the faerie realms would be invaluable. I certainly could have benefited from a guidebook on the occasions I’d found myself bumbling through other realms. I still couldn’t believe Hortense had agreed to share information like that with a human.

I turned to Charlie as he slid a juicy pork chop onto his plate. He’d lost some weight and gotten some sun since the last time I’d seen him. His pale skin had burned rather than tanned, making his freckled cheeks redder than his orange hair. “Where do you fit into all this?”

He smiled, crinkling the corners of his sky-blue eyes. “My corporate job paid well, but I’m looking forward to being a stay-at-home dad for a while. I have enough squirreled away to last a few years.”

I clamped my mouth shut, trapping my opinion about his “corporate job” behind clenched teeth.

A few months ago, Charlie’s architectural firm had been trying to secure a lucrative government contract. Since the governor of Colorado was a Purist, having a lead engineer whose wife employed paranaturals was a deal-breaker. The firm chose to cut Charlie loose rather than lose the contract. I hoped the greedy bastards went bankrupt.

“Emma mentioned Chase isn’t living with you anymore.” Maggie dropped a steaming biscuit onto her plate and passed me the basket. “Something about keeping an eye on his sister?”

I inhaled the buttery aroma, took two rolls, and sent the rest down the line. “Chase is helping Targe rebuild Crossroads.”

Hortense’s eyebrows pinched together. “And you were worried about me drawing Purist attention?”

“I didn’t say I approved,” I grumbled. Hiding at my cabin in the woods was one thing, but opening a fae bar in the middle of Boulder? That was just asking for trouble. “I tried to talk them out of it, but Targe is . . . determined. Ava’s sticking with her uncle, and Jynx is sticking with her wife, so Chase moved in to make sure his little sister doesn’t end up in some Purist’s trophy case.” I slid a juicy pork chop onto my plate. It smelled heavenly, but a cold, hard knot at my center stole my appetite. So many of the people I cared about were beyond my reach right now.

“What about Malakai?” Hortense asked. “Has he returned from Enchantment?”

Another knife through my heart. Thanks Hortense.

“Not yet,” I said, keeping my voice carefully neutral.

In all honesty, I’d expected Kai to come back by now, permission or no. Or at least send word. His complete silence since leaving the Mortal Realm had me worried.

“He’s probably waiting until the visa program is reinstated,” Maggie said.

“He was one of the few fae who followed the rules.” David gave me a pointed look. One of the major concerns the human delegations had voiced about the upcoming summit was how to enforce a new treaty. Fae couldn’t lie, but they were very good at finding loopholes. Luckily the legal phrasing of the deal was someone else’s problem. David and I only had to make sure everyone showed up and no one died.

“Maybe you could get him one of those special thingies,” Emma said, “like you did for Hortense.”

We all stared at David.

He froze with a heaping mound of Brussels sprouts on his fork, looked back at us, and set his fork on the plate. “We’d need to make an argument that his presence is both necessary and beneficial to the PTF. I don’t think ‘because we miss him’ is going to fly with the director.”

“As a court knight, he’s interacted with tons of high-level fae,” I said. “He knows a lot about their complicated etiquette. Way more than me. His advice would be invaluable.”

David pointed to Hortense. “She originally came here to teach you court etiquette, right? So wouldn’t she know more than Kai?”

“Considerably,” Hortense said.

Emma glared at David. “Whose side are you on?”

He raised his hands in defense. “I’m just saying, it’s not a bulletproof argument.”

“Hortense will be too busy working with me to advise you on fae etiquette,” Maggie said.

“Kai can also help with security,” I pointed out. “He has experience working big events attended by lots of important fae who want to kill each other.”

“Fine,” David said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“I was planning to make a trip to Enchantment to retrieve some of my reference books,” Hortense said. “I’d be willing to impart your offer to Malakai while I’m there.”

Emma set her fork down and turned her unseeing gaze on me. “Alex, you should go with her.”

“I’m sure Hortense can deliver the message on her own.” I touched the ring on my finger, thinking of James. “I have too much going on right now.”

Emma shifted, seeming to consider her words. She pinched her lower lip between her teeth, then she exhaled and said in a rush, “I think it’s time to ask your grandfather for help.”

Hortense locked her shrewd gaze on me. “What do you need help with?”

I glared at Emma. I’d learned the hard way that keeping my friends in the dark never ended well, so when I returned from my stay with the vampire council, I told Emma and David what I could about the deal I’d made, leaving out only the most dangerous details that could get us all killed if I blabbed. Hortense was another matter.

Hortense knew my boyfriend was a vampire. That didn’t mean she approved. Given the longstanding animosity between fae and vampires—namely that the fae wanted to eradicate every vampire from the face of the Earth—even a friendly fae would likely find the idea of outfitting the vampire council with daywalking amulets reprehensible, no matter my reasons. I stared at the old tutor for a long moment before opening my mouth.

“Never mind.” She raised her hand to forestall me. “If it takes you this long to answer, it’s probably something I don’t want to know about.”

I exhaled, grateful, but my relief was short-lived. Unlike my hesitance with Hortense, it wasn’t fear of disapproval that stopped me from talking to Bael. Having produced the original daywalking amulet that James wore for decades, my fae grandfather clearly could, and would, disregard public opinion when it suited him. He was the Lord of Enchantment, after all. Still, I’d avoided seeking his aid because, while he could help me, I feared what that help might cost.

“I’m managing on my own,” I mumbled.

“No,” Emma said, “you’re not.” She crossed her arms. “Every second you’re not planning the summit with David, you’re working in your studio.”

“That’s—”

“You don’t sleep,” Emma barreled on like a playground tattletale reporting to a teacher. “You forget to eat. It’s ridiculous. Yesterday, when I brought you that snack, I found you passed out at your workbench, drooling all over your sketchbooks.”

My face warmed.

“You’ve clearly hit a dead end,” Emma said, “but you’re too stubborn to acknowledge it.”

“We’re worried about you,” David added.

“What is this, an intervention?” I looked at Maggie. “Is this why you came home early?”

She patted my arm. “We know what you’re doing is important, Alex, but you need help. Help that, as much as we love you, no one here can provide.”

I looked around the table, taking in my friends’ concerned expressions. “I’m sorry I worried you all, but asking Bael for advice isn’t something to be taken lightly. Nothing’s ever free with the fae.”

Hortense gave a curt nod. “I’m glad to see some lessons stuck.”

“You don’t think he’ll help you?” Maggie asked with a frown. “Even though you’re family?”

“If she weren’t family, he wouldn’t even speak to her,” Hortense said.

I drummed my fingers on the table. Bael would speak to me if I went to him. How helpful he’d be would depend on what I was willing to trade. But I’d been hitting my head against a wall trying to understand these amulets for months, even before my deal with the vampire council. I was clearly worrying my friends, and I was running out of time to extricate James from the vampire council before they forced him to become their poster boy for the children of the night. Perhaps it was time to negotiate.

I sighed and looked at Hortense. “When do we leave?”