When I started yawning, I stifled it, but eventually Gabriel noticed.

“We should think about getting back,” he said.

I nodded, and we did nothing more about it for at least an hour, talking instead about college, which subjects we’d liked and those we’d gritted our teeth through. Finally, yawning wasn’t enough. My eyelids were flagging.

“Let’s get you back,” he said. “You spent last night in my office. You shouldn’t spend this one on the beach.”

I wanted to say I’d be fine with that, but as the alcohol slid from my bloodstream, I knew I shouldn’t. If I’d come to the realization that something needed to change, I couldn’t start by spending the night with Gabriel, however innocently.

We started out, still light-headed, joking about who was in better condition to drive, making each other walk straight lines and recite Sherlock Holmes quotes.

“The fact that you’re admitting you can recite Holmes quotes proves you’re in no shape to drive,” I said as we crested the last rise.

“I’ve read the comics.”

I laughed. “And that’s better than admitting you read novels? How—?”

Gabriel grabbed my arm, and the next thing I knew I was staring at his back.

“Take three steps backward,” he said.

It took a second to realize he was talking to someone else. I peeked around him to see a thin man, brown-haired, not much older than me. Or looking not much older than me, though I suspected he was many times my age.

Tristan raised a hand. “I come in peace.”

“Bullshit.” I sidestepped around Gabriel. “The last time we had contact with you, it was through your flunky, Macy Shaw, when she tried to kill us.”

“In opposition to my explicit directions. I made it very clear you weren’t to be harmed. Either of you. That’s the problem dealing with humans. Petty grievances and jealousies flare, and they ignore orders. Logic, too, as it seems. If one has to deal with them, one is better choosing sìol. They’re usually able to rise above that.”

“Sìol?” I tried to move closer, but Gabriel gripped my arm, and he was right. Maintain distance.

“Descendants,” Tristan said. “For us, it means those descended from our kind. Disgynyddion in Welsh, but that’s a mouthful. In my language, it’s diyskynnyas, which is just as bad, so we’ll stick to Gaelic. I’m not Gaelic. Or Welsh. But you are. Both of you. Part Tylwyth Teg, part human, part . . . other things. Cwn Annwn among them for you, Eden. That’s the thing about sìol. They’re terribly attractive to fae, at least as breeding stock. Keep hitting the same lineage over and over, and eventually you get quite an interesting mix.”

I glanced at Gabriel. “So that’s where we get it from. The hyperverbal gene. Fae do love to talk.”

“True . . .” Tristan said. “But in this case, I believe you’re the one who wanted to talk to me. You left an invitation.” He held out a scrap of notepaper. On it I could see my phone number . . . in my own handwriting.

“You’re Jon Childs,” I said.

“Among others. But you’ve invited me to talk, so I’m taking you up on the offer, though this might be a somewhat one-sided conversation. It appears you have a problem I may have caused.”

“Besides the fact that your psycho assistant tried to murder us?”

“Yes, besides that.”

Gabriel’s hand moved to my shoulder. “We have nothing to say to you, whatever you are.”

“Spriggan,” Tristan said. “I’ll give that information freely as a token of my goodwill. As for what a spriggan is—”

“You murdered Ciara Conway,” I said.

“Mmm, no. Macy did, attempting to restrain her. I will admit, however, that I did utilize her corpse in ways you might have found disturbing.”

“You left her head in my bed.”

“Her spirit had long fled. I was simply using the shell to encourage you to discover your own heritage. I was being helpful. If you look at it in the right light.”

I couldn’t even respond to that.

“Why did Edgar Chandler ask me to kill you?” Gabriel said.

“That’s . . . complicated.”

“You have one minute to find an uncomplicated answer. If you do so, you will earn five minutes of our time.”

“You’re very cute,” Tristan said. “Both of you. You act as if you have a say in the matter. As if you could, indeed, just push me out of the way and go about your evening.”

“Is that an invitation to try?” Gabriel said.

“Not particularly. I lack your fondness for confrontations.”

“Chandler,” I said. “He wanted us to kill you.”

“No, I don’t think he did. He wanted you to find me. I’d gone to him once before, when he was working on his brainwashing techniques with the merry Huntsman. I’d made him an offer. He refused. I believe he was reconsidering, namely because he realized he was in deep trouble. He sent you after me. He thought I would use my abilities to overpower you and learn who sent you, and then I’d go and speak to him. He was overcomplicating things, as usual. I wouldn’t have bothered with him. He was damaged goods by that point. There’s your answer, so I’ll take my five minutes.” He gave us no time to object. “I’m the one who started the business with James Morgan. Making him think Eden was in danger from you, Mr. Walsh.”