It had a voice that she heard. Unlike when she rode another’s steed, hers was in her mind, a part of her.

Of course, I am. The voice was genderless. I am yours. You will not ride any other now.

“Never again. Just you.” She stroked the long sleek lines of the hood. It was everything a classic should be: power and beauty, strong lines and a great engine.

It shifted under her hand, becoming a black Ducati Monster with chrome-spoked rims.

“Daaamn.” Ani felt it laughing as she all but drooled on motorcycle.

Then it was a horse, a skeletal steed capable of trampling every creature in their path. It lifted and lowered one leg, cracking the already-broken asphalt under a steel-sharp hoof. Like the most perfect Dark Court denizens, it was beautiful in its horror. “You’re gorgeous.”

And lethal, Ani.

“Yeah. That’s what I said. Lethal is gorgeous.” She stroked its neck. After the terror of facing Bananach, there was little that could ease her anxiety. This could. This did.

You needed me.

“I did,” she whispered.

I felt your need to run and so I’m here. It closed its eyes and rested its head against her shoulder. We can go from here.

It had selected her, chosen her. She had her own steed, not Chela’s, but her own. Halflings didn’t have steeds; unclaimed steeds didn’t roam in the mortal realm. Yet, it was here.

Come, Ani. The steed became a car again. It opened a door. Ride with me. Away from here.

Ani slid into the driver’s seat. The engine turned over with a satisfying growl.

“Oh.” She breathed the word, and the car tore out of the alley with speed that made her heart race.

Take the wheel. I trust you, it assured her.

“Take it back if I fail you.” She’d driven an actual car a couple of times, but not enough to be certain she could handle it.

Always. I’ll keep you safe, Ani. Always. You’re mine now.

“And you…” She couldn’t say the sentence.

So her steed did. I am yours. Always.

After a few dizzying hours, Ani directed her steed into an alley near the tattoo shop. The riding had helped her settle her emotions, given her space to calm down, but Bananach’s demands weren’t something she could make sense of on her own. She couldn’t kill her king, even if she wanted to. She had no desire to give Bananach her strength or her blood. And, despite her dislike of Seth, she wasn’t sure she could kill him.

Would one of the three acts be enough to appease War?

Ani didn’t know, but what she was certain of was that Niall, her king, would not be forgiving of Seth’s murder. But if he didn’t know… The possibilities were there. Ignoring Bananach wasn’t a viable plan; she was crazy, dangerous, and powerful.

Could I kill Seth?

He didn’t really belong in the Dark Court. If he mattered to Irial, it would be different. On the other hand, he was of the High Court and loved by the Summer Queen. Angering them wasn’t a great idea.

Neither is angering Bananach.

The engine stilled, and Ani slipped out of the driver’s seat of the Barracuda and gently closed the door. It was a beautiful beast, but it was safe in the alley. The biggest risk was that it would eat some foolish mortal who tried to strip it or leaned on it, but the steed seemed tired enough that she didn’t really expect any blood on the grill when she returned.

She leaned down to the hood of car and whispered, “Be back soon.”

Its engine rumbled briefly, and then the interior lights shut off.

Ani walked up the sidewalk to Pins and Needles. She paused there. Once she crossed the threshold, there’d be questions. If she answered, there would be a lecture. Her brother hadn’t survived on the borderland between Dark Court and mortals without a spine of steel. He’d taught her what she needed to survive—and not flinched at the inhumanity in her or at the mortal sweetness in Tish. Somehow, he’d loved them both, despite their differences.

“You going to come in?” Rabbit stood on the other side of the front window. His goatee was a braid in black and a garish shade of orange. The bone plugs she’d carved for him after one of her first hunts were in his ears. His clothes were his standard thrift-store fare: dark trousers and a mechanic’s button-up falsely proclaiming him an employee of Joe’s Stop and Go.

Home.

She put her palms on the glass pane of the door, covering the hours he was supposedly open for business.

Rabbit watched her with his usual taciturn expression. He’d ask her too many questions later, but just then, he saw what she didn’t admit: she was afraid. Her brother had been the one to croon comforting words when she came home sobbing or raging; he’d taught her to cope with a world that confused her. He’d helped her come to the realization that the things that set her apart were strengths as much as weaknesses.

She opened the shop door and went into his arms.

He held her as carefully as he had when she was a little girl, and they’d thought she might turn out to be more mortal than not.

Like Tish did.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Maybe.” She stepped away and wandered over to the red vinyl chair in the far corner.

Rabbit flipped the sign on the door to closed and threw the bolt. “Well?”

“I saw Bananach.” She picked at a loose thread caught under a piece of black electrical tape Rabbit had used in lieu of stitching one of the rips in the chair. “She wants some things from me.”