Mo Kaminsky, my friend and fence, looked at me as I pulled out a chair and sat down next to him. “So, kid, whatcha got for me today?”

I reached into my pocket, drew out the small stone statue of a Fenrir wolf that I’d swiped on my way to the dining hall, and set it down on the table. “And you?”

Mo grinned, reached into one of his own pockets, and drew out a crystal paperweight shaped like a tree troll.

I grinned back. “Nice.”

Felix eyed the statue and the paperweight. “Um, aren’t those supposed to be in one of the downstairs living rooms? Don’t you guys ever get tired of stealing stuff?”

Mo and I looked at each other, our grins widening. “Never,” we said in unison.

Every day, Mo and I each swiped some trinket from somewhere in the mansion, then brought it to dinner to see what our spoils were, so to speak. Last week, we’d both gone for a pair of silver bookends in the library. He’d gotten one and I’d snagged the other. Of course, since we both officially worked for the Family now, we weren’t actually stealing the items. If we had been, Mo would have been taking the pilfered goods down to the Razzle Dazzle, his pawnshop, and either fencing them to one of his shady contacts or foisting them off on some unsuspecting tourist—for twice the items’ value.

Every day after Mo and I showed off our spoils, we switched items and tried to figure out where the other person had gotten their trinket from so we could return it to its proper place. I didn’t mind putting everything back . . . too much. It was a fun game and it kept my skills sharp. But I’d been so busy helping Devon with the tree troll and other Family problems the past few days that I’d fallen behind and had a backlog of shiny knickknacks sitting on the vanity table in my bedroom.

So Mo slid the Fenrir wolf statue into his pants pocket, while I slipped the troll paperweight into mine. Then, we both resumed eating as though we hadn’t stolen anything at all. Mo and I weren’t exactly troubled by things like sticky fingers and guilty consciences.

Felix eyed my plate. “You and the bacon again—it’s like a disease or something.”

I picked up one of the bacon-wrapped dates. “How can something that tastes this good possibly be wrong?”

Felix groaned, but I grinned and popped the date into my mouth. The bacon and fruit combined for a rich, smoky-sweet flavor, while the gorgonzola cheese added a bit of creaminess. A perfect little bite and so good that I polished off the others on my plate, went back to the buffet, and got several more.

Vance Groves glared at me as I walked by, since he was sitting close to the buffet, but I ignored him and returned to my table.

Dinner was fun and boisterous, with Felix and Mo competing to see who could outtalk the other. Felix told Mo all about our tree troll problem, while Mo chattered on about all the odd items that people had pawned at his shop today. The two of them barely shut up, except to take a bite of food every now and then. As much and as fast as they talked, it was a wonder there was enough oxygen in the room for both of them at the same time.

Since I couldn’t get a word in edgewise, I concentrated on my food, which was just as delicious as it looked. The steak was perfectly cooked with a black-pepper crust, while the crispy, cool crunch of the salad offset the slow burn of the horseradish in the buttery mashed potatoes. I washed everything down with the sweet iced tea.

Every so often, I’d look up to find Devon staring at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. He’d been a little cool and distant the past few weeks, ever since I’d told him that I didn’t want to take our friendship—or whatever this thing between us was—to the next level. We’d been so busy with the troll in the square and then finding that poor, murdered monster behind the dumpster that today had been the first day things had felt somewhat normal between us. At least, until he looked at me the way he was right now.

I felt the same way about Devon that he did about me, but I didn’t plan on sticking around here forever. As soon as I figured out what Victor Draconi was plotting against the other Families and found a way to finally make him pay for my mom’s murder, I was on the next bus out of Cloudburst Falls. I didn’t know where I would go or what I would do, but I’d figure it out . . . eventually.

Besides, I already cared about Devon way too much. I didn’t want to get my heart broken when whatever was between us finally ended.

And it would end.

Every good thing in my life had so far, and there was no reason to think that Devon would be any different. Yeah, yeah. I know that folks always say that it’s better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Bullshit. Those people hadn’t loved and lost all the things that I had—my mom, my innocence, my childhood. At seventeen, I’d already had enough hurt to last a lifetime.

So I ignored Devon and focused on my food. I’d just popped the last of the bacon-wrapped dates into my mouth when Claudia Sinclair strode into the dining hall.

Claudia was Devon’s mom and the leader of the Family—the big cheese, the top dog, the head honcho. And she looked the part, with her fitted black pantsuit, stiletto heels, and expensive but understated jewelry. A silver cuff flashed on her right wrist, a bit wider, thicker, and brighter than everyone else’s, further marking her as the boss.

Claudia was quite beautiful, with auburn hair and expressive features. It was only when you looked into her green eyes that you saw the strength, determination, and coldness lurking beneath her smooth, polished surface.

Claudia ate most of her meals in the library, which doubled as her office, since she always had some sort of work to do. But even more surprising than her presence in the dining room was the wide smile stretching across her face. It made me more nervous than if she’d stormed in here snarling at everyone.

Reginald followed Claudia into the dining hall, along with Angelo Morales, Felix’s dad. Claudia took up a position at the front of the room, with Reginald and Angelo flanking her.

A pixie zipped over and handed Claudia a glass of sparkling apple cider, along with a fork. More pixies fluttered through the room, depositing a glass next to everyone’s elbow. Oscar flew over with my apple cider, grinning and leaning up against the glass, which was taller than he was.

When everyone had been served, Claudia tink-tink-tinked the fork against her glass, and the room hushed.

“What’s going on? What are we celebrating?” I asked Mo.