“If we’re staying, does that mean we get to help you summon the night-haunts?”

“No.” I raised my head, giving him a stern look. “It means Connor gets to keep an eye on you while I deal with them.”

He frowned. “But if I’m here . . .”

“Quentin, look.” I sighed. “If it weren’t for the part where they’re as likely to kill and eat me as they are to answer my questions, I might say yes. But the Luidaeg said that it’s a solo summoning. If it comes from more than one person, it’s not solo.”

“Hang on.” Connor lowered his half-eaten donut, eyeing me. “Kill and eat you? No one said anything to me about killing and eating. I am not in favor of you being killed and eaten.”

“We need to talk to them, and this is the only way. Believe me, I don’t want to. I’m scared stiff.” I wasn’t exaggerating. I was terrified, but it was too late to do anything about it. I was committed to summoning the night-haunts.

“I don’t think this is a good plan,” Connor said, reaching out to grab my wrist. “Get a better plan. A plan with less inherent death.”

“Weren’t you mad at me a little while ago for crisping a Selkie skin?”

“It’ll be hard to be mad at you when you’re dead, Daye.” He tightened his grip, holding on for just a beat too long before he let me go. The warmth from his fingers lingered on my skin, reassuring me.

“Look, guys. This is going to happen, whether any of us like it or not. We may as well just try to do it right.” I rose, taking my cup as I moved to check the cupboards near the coffee machine. They were a jumbled mess, but the third one yielded an almost full container of sea salt. “Elliot was right.” I put it down on the counter before turning back to Quentin and Connor. “I’ll have all the supplies I need to make this as safe as possible. Connor, I don’t care what Sylvester says. If it looks like things are getting worse—”

“I take Quentin and run. Got it.”

I risked a smile. Maybe having him around wouldn’t be so bad after all. I’d still worry about Quentin, but Connor provided a layer of backup that I’d been missing since leaving Shadowed Hills. All I had to do was keep myself from looking into his eyes long enough to remember why it wasn’t a good idea for me to be alone with him. “Good. Are there any chocolate donuts left in that box?”

“Saved you two,” he said, and grinned.

“Excellent.”

I was halfway through the second donut when Alex came rushing back into the cafeteria, the color high in his cheeks: a man on a mission. “Toby!” he called. “Jan wants to see you.”

“What’s up?” I put my donut down on the counter, then, regretfully, put my coffee down beside it. “Connor, Quentin, wait here. Do not go anywhere alone. I mean it. If one of you needs to pee, you go together and you leave a note. You got me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Connor, mock meekly, before shooting a glare at Alex. Quentin just snorted.

“I’m taking that as agreement, Quentin,” I said. “Alex, lead the way.”

“Gladly.”

Alex led me out of the cafeteria and down the hallway to a door I didn’t recognize. Not that that meant much; I was learning some of the landmarks, but I’d given up on real navigation. He pushed it open, and I stepped through, onto a patch of lawn shaded by spreading elm trees.

I blinked, first at the lawn, then at Alex. “Where’s Jan?”

“Not here.” He grinned, sunlight slanting down through the trees and sparking highlights from his hair. Then there was no more talking, because he had his arms around my waist, pulling me close as he kissed me.

The first time I kissed Alex, it was a pleasant surprise. The second time was less surprising, if no less pleasant. The third time, it was like someone had just set my hormones on overdrive. I relaxed into his arms, plastering myself against him, returning the kiss with interest. His hands came up, snarling themselves in my hair, pulling me closer still as the smell of coffee and clover rose around us, almost overwhelming the green smells of the outdoors.

Coffee and clover. In my hotel room, I’d taken the smell to be an aftereffect of the illusion that made him look human. Here, standing on the lawn, neither of us was wearing a human disguise. Neither of us was casting any sort of spell at all. So why could I smell magic?

Startled, I pushed myself away from him so fast that I bit my lip, breaking the skin and spreading the taste of blood across my tongue. Alex stared at me, poppy-orange eyes wide in something that looked first like confusion—and then, as my shock and outrage spread across my face, like shame.

“Oh,” he said softly.

“Oh?” His arms were still around my waist. I pushed him again. He didn’t let go. I pushed harder, sending him stumbling into the nearest tree as I took a few rapid, stuttering steps backward. The smell of coffee and clover was getting thicker, hanging in the air like cheap perfume. “What are you doing, Alex?”

“Nothing! I—I’m not doing anything. Come on, Toby. Please.” He held out his hands toward me. “You just need to calm down. Come on over here.”

I wanted to. Oh, oak and ash, I wanted to. It was like a small voice in the back of my head was saying, It’s all right. He’s not a bad guy. You want this as much as he does. You’d have wanted this anyway. Don’t be silly. Just go.

I took a shaky step forward before I caught myself. Biting my lip again, I clung to the hot taste of my own blood like it was a lifeline, and hissed, “You stop that right now, Alex, or I swear you won’t be worrying about mysterious murderers anymore. What. Are. You. Doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, eyes going wide and innocent. The smell of clover was cloying, overwhelming the coffee and threatening to overwhelm even the taste of blood.

“You know what I mean. Stop it. I don’t want this.”

“Does it matter? If you feel it, does it matter?” He was almost pleading.

I didn’t care. “Yes!” I balled up my hands, digging my nails into my palms and focusing on the pain. “I refuse to be in love with you!”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He took three long steps, put his hands on my shoulders, and kissed me again.

There was a moment of bewilderment before I realized what he was doing, and by then it was too late. The smell of coffee and clover rose, stronger than ever, and I melted into him, my body refusing to let me do anything else. I was trapped. The worst of it was that I couldn’t figure out who’d betrayed me more—him, by being whatever he was, or me, for being stupid enough to get myself caught. His hands slid down to the small of my back, pulling me closer as the taste of coffee threatened to overwhelm the taste of blood.