“What?” I said.

“I had a plan,” he said, with a combination of nonchalance and smugness that left me staring.

They aren’t human. You need to remember that. Don’t expect them to think, to act like humans.

Tristan continued, “I want peace, Eden, and you could start a war that will make this entire corner of the world a very uncomfortable place for those like me. So I’m going to help you make the right choices. If you don’t . . .” He shrugged. “I’ll have to kill you. Which would be regrettable.”

“All right,” Gabriel said. “We’ve heard enough—”

“I still have four minutes. The point is that I ruffled Mr. Morgan’s feathers for the same reason I toyed with Ciara Conway’s unfortunate shell. All part of my plan. Mr. Morgan was a pest. Pests need to be eradicated.”

I lunged forward. “You killed—?”

His hands shot up. “An unfortunate choice of words. Please allow me to finish. He was a nuisance because he was distracting you from discovering your identity and your role. I expected Mr. Walsh would stomp him, and in the process the bond between you and Mr. Walsh would strengthen. That bond is important, as I’m sure you know by now.”

I glanced uneasily at Gabriel, but he only watched Tristan with the same wary look he’d had since we’d been waylaid.

I answered quickly. “So you made James think Gabriel was a danger to me. You compelled him—”

“Which was only possible because he was quite willing to be persuaded,” Tristan cut in, as if that made a difference.

“You got Gabriel arrested for assault and trespassing—”

“That I didn’t expect. Morgan was more committed to you than I anticipated. The situation escalated.”

“No shit it escalated.” I stepped toward him. “You escalated it. You sent cult deprogrammers after me, in James’s name.”

“No, I presume Morgan was behind that. And now our Mr. Walsh has been falsely charged with his murder.”

“Do you know who did it?”

“Well, no. Not yet. I believe if we pool our resources—”

I laughed.

“I realize you haven’t seen me as an ally,” Tristan said. “Though I’d argue I am. In fact, I’m the only one who doesn’t seek the destruction of either side. I want peace.”

“Is that an option?” I said. “Because according to everything I’ve heard, I have three choices: I choose to align myself with one side and let the other die out. Or I choose neither and both die. I’m not hearing an alternative.”

“I haven’t exactly worked out the logistics—”

I groaned and turned to Gabriel. “Can we go now?”

“The Cwn Annwn,” Tristan said. “They’re the most likely suspects. They want to get rid of Gwynn so Arawn controls the playing field.”

“We need to go,” I said, reaching for Gabriel’s arm. He lifted it out of my reach without even looking over.

“Gwynn?” Gabriel said. “Arawn?”

“You do know who they are, I presume?” Tristan said.

“Of course,” I broke in. “Matilda, Gwynn, Arawn. The myth or history or whatever it is. Gabriel, can we—?”

“In a moment. This could be important.” He turned to Tristan. “Explain what you mean—”

“Gabriel, please.” I gripped his elbow.

He seemed to catch the growing desperation in my voice. He nodded. “All right.” Then, to Tristan, “We’ll speak—”

“Investigate the Cwn Annwn. I haven’t been able to prove they’re behind Morgan’s murder, but it’s the solution that makes sense. If you’re arrested, that removes Gwynn from the equation, and leaves the biker boy, Arawn.”

“Gabriel,” I said loudly, trying to distract him from Tristan’s last sentence, but it did no good. Gabriel stared at him so intently he could have read his lips.

“Biker boy?” he said.

“Richard Gallagher.”

“You’re saying Ricky is Arawn? And I’m . . .”

“Gwynn, of course. Gwynn ap Nudd. King of the Tylwyth Teg.”

Gabriel pivoted on his heel, so slowly I swear it took ten seconds before he was facing me, and still it wasn’t enough time to plaster on a look of confusion.

“Olivia,” he said. “You knew . . . ?”

“We aren’t them,” I blurted. “Not reincarnations. It’s a role. You have Tylwyth Teg blood and Ricky has Cwn Annwn, and I have both, and we know one another, so we’ve been thrust into these roles—”

“Not exactly,” Tristan said. “True, it isn’t reincarnation, but it’s not happenstance. There couldn’t be another Gwynn to your Matilda. It’s all preordained. He is the Gwynn—”

“Enough.” Gabriel’s voice was so low we both turned, as if uncertain we’d heard it. “That’s enough,” he said, articulating each syllable. “We are going to leave now. If you wish to speak to us, you know where we are.”

Tristan thrust business cards at both of us. “Or you can call me. Anytime. I really do think we can solve—”

Gabriel had already walked away, leaving the card in Tristan’s outstretched hand. Tristan tucked mine into my pocket.

“It’s not the Cwn Annwn,” I said to Tristan. “Unless James has murdered someone with fae blood, they can’t kill him.”