Gabriel parked in front of Rose’s tiny Victorian. There was another car in the drive. A client’s, presumably. Rose is a psychic, though she uses her Walsh con artist skills as much as her actual second sight.

I looked at the client’s car. “Guess we should have called first.”

Gabriel checked his watch. Rose’s sessions always started on the hour, meaning she’d be tied up until ten.

“My place?” I said, and he nodded.

My landlord, Grace, was sitting on the front stoop of my three-story walk-up, right across from Rose’s house. Grace is a bogart, which is a type of fae connected to specific locations, especially homes. Or that’s the theory. I think she must be at least part troll. She perches her wizened ass on that stoop and glowers at the world, daring them to cross her threshold without paying the toll. That morning, though, she was engaged in a stare-down with a small black cat sitting on the railing post.

“Keep it up, TC,” I said to the cat as I climbed the stairs. “You’ve almost got her beat.”

Grace turned her glower on me. “I never should have let you install that cat door.”

“But you did. And you can’t change your mind now, because I have an official copy of my rental agreement stipulating that the door is permitted.”

“Only because someone”—that look swung to Gabriel—“blackmailed me into it.”

“Blackmail is a strong word,” Gabriel said. “Also slanderous.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real resentment in it. Gabriel was the Tylwyth Teg’s golden boy. While they’d prefer he didn’t turn his more ruthless talents against them, they understood and valued those talents.

“I’m guessing that’s a client?” I said, waving at the car in Rose’s drive.

“Could be a new girlfriend, but she didn’t look like Rose’s type.” Grace glanced at Gabriel. “Trouble with the boy?”

That’s what they called Ricky. The boy. The Cainsville elders rankled at the thought of a Cŵn Annwn descendant riding in and out of their town whenever he pleased. With Grace, though, there was no condescension. She liked Ricky, at least as much as she liked anyone.

“We’re fine,” I said. “He’ll probably be around later.”

“Tell him to bring me one of those lemon scones from the city.”

“He always does.”

She gave a satisfied smirk and leaned back in her chair. Gabriel and I went inside, with TC trailing along after me. Yes, I have a cat. I refused to acknowledge it for a long time, even calling him TC as a short form for “the cat.” But he’s mine, as much as Cainsville is. As might be expected in Cainsville, he’s not exactly an ordinary feline. As for what he is, I have no idea. Part of my bargain with the Tylwyth Teg is that they won’t share any of Cainsville’s secrets until they’re allowed to court me to their side. They’re hoping curiosity will break me. It won’t. TC may not be the cuddliest cat in the world, but he watches out for me and he’s not evil. Or no more evil than the average feline. That’s all I need to know.

Gabriel headed for my kitchen and started the coffee machine as the cat wound around his feet.

“Can you feed him?” I asked. “I’m going to walk over to the diner, see if I can get one of the elders to talk about what I saw last night.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I’m allowed to ask general fae questions. Just nothing Cainsville specific.”

“And you wish to do that alone.”

“Just so you can speak to Rose if I’m not back by ten. We’ll divide the work and get you back to Chicago by lunchtime. I’m sure you have better things to do with your Saturday.”

He turned, his gaze cool. “If you would prefer to investigate alone, Olivia, I’d appreciate it if you’d say so. I’m hardly going to the gym to swim laps while one of my primary clients is under threat of arrest.” He turned off the coffeemaker. “I would prefer to accompany you, but I won’t insist. And yes, I’ll feed your cat.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “He’ll just be less of a pain in the ass if you do.”

Gabriel didn’t return my smile. He just headed to the cupboard and took out a can of cat food. As I opened the front door, TC raced out and nearly tripped me. Then he sat in my path and fixed me with a baleful stare.

“The food is that way,” I said, pointing.

More staring. When I tried to walk around him, he darted into my path again and planted himself there.

I sighed. “You want me to take Gabriel.”

TC lifted a paw, cleaning it, as if to say, Whatever do you mean? I’m just a cat.

“Nice try,” I said. “But I’m not snubbing him. I’m just …”

I looked at the apartment door. Then I went back in, with TC trotting at my heels.

“Okay, I lied,” I said as I walked into the kitchen, where Gabriel was throwing out the cat food tin. I took it from the trash and rinsed it. “I want to talk to Patrick.” I tossed the can into the recycling bin. “I want to look at his books. See if I can find the answer there.”

“The books that gave you visions the last time?”

“Yes, and I didn’t want you trying to stop me. Also, the last time we did this, you decked Patrick, which I suspect is a very bad idea.”

“So is asking to use his library, which puts you in his debt. As for the visions, while it’s true that I don’t like you encouraging them, I would hope that if you plan to do so, you would take along someone who might actually help you if you collapse unconscious on the floor again. Because Patrick will not.”