Assurances aside, I still used Patrick’s vest to keep myself from touching the wood as I took it from her hands. She snorted, looking almost amused.

“I’ll ask Walther to take a look. Maybe he can figure out which recipe was used,” I said. Walther Davies is Tylwyth Teg, and possibly the only alchemist in Faerie who holds a PhD in chemistry. He cured my iron poisoning after I was rescued from the Queen’s dungeon, and was largely responsible for saving Luna’s life when Oleander poisoned her. If anyone could identify the specific spell used to craft the elf-shot, it would be him.

“Good. Now, while I was waiting for you, I got a visit from one of the Queen’s messengers.” She started peeling the electrical tape off her left pigtail, expression pensive. “Saltmist has declared war. You have to find those boys, Toby. You don’t understand just how screwed you are if you don’t.”

I frowned. “What do you mean? We’re going to war if I don’t find them. Isn’t that screwed enough?”

“He knows.” She jabbed a finger toward Connor. He looked away. She glared. “Oh, he knows. The Undersea is marshaling their forces, isn’t it, Selkie? It’s going to be a massacre, because while the land’s been getting soft, the sea’s stayed hard. The sea can’t afford to be soft, can it, Selkie?”

“No,” mumbled Connor.

“No,” repeated the Luidaeg. “Do you get that, Toby? The sea has more fighters than the land. They’re better trained, they’re better disciplined, and they’re not as politically divided. They’re going to slaughter you.”

“Us,” I said. The Luidaeg was silent. “Luidaeg? You mean they’re going to slaughter us.”

“No.” She looked at me gravely. “I mean they’re going to slaughter you.”

“Luidaeg—”

“The Undersea knows my limits.” She dropped her pigtail, standing. “There’s no one there that’s willing to come here and take me on, but they know I won’t take the fight to them. I can’t attack the children of Titania. I won’t attack the children of Maeve. This one’s up to your Queen’s army, and guess what, October? Your Queen’s army ain’t up to the task.”

Connor wasn’t saying anything. That just made the Luidaeg’s tone—a mixture of anger, fear, and resignation—all the more terrifying. I squared my shoulders, trying to ignore the fact that I was standing in the apartment of the sea witch, wearing a fairy-tale prom gown, waiting for the attack of the mermaids.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Find the boys. I assume the Queen tasked you with the same thing?”

I snorted. “More like I bullied her into allowing it, but yes.”

“Good. Now listen to me: if you find them, you must not take them to her. Bring them to me, or find a way to get them to their parents, but don’t let her near them. I don’t trust her to remember that the land can’t win this war if she thinks she has the upper hand.”

“All right.” I shifted the arrow to my other hand. “Anything else?”

“One more thing—I’ve been scrying for the boys, and I can’t find them. That’s not a good sign. You don’t have much time.”

“I figured that out on my own.”

She pointed to the door. “Then what are you still doing here?”

“We’re on our way out.” I turned to go. Connor was right beside me, looking painfully relieved to be getting out of there.

We were almost to the door when the Luidaeg called, “Oh, and Toby?”

I looked back. “Yeah?”

“You’re going to need to bring me a shapeshifter soon. Not him. Never bring a Selkie here again. They’re not welcome.” Something in her voice told me not to ask. If she said I was going to need a shapeshifter, she meant it . . . and if Selkies weren’t welcome, she wasn’t going to tell me why with Connor in the room.

“All right,” I said, and grabbed Connor’s hand, yanking him out into the night.

I didn’t have to drag him for long. He pulled his hand out of mine as soon as the door slammed behind us, starting to walk steadily faster. He was almost running by the time we reached the car. I grabbed his elbow. He whipped around to face me, eyes wide, breath coming short and panicky.

“Whoa!” I let go and took a step back, raising my hands. That probably wasn’t as reassuring as it could have been, given the poisoned arrow I was holding. “What’s wrong? What was all that about?”

“The sea witch doesn’t parley with Selkies,” he said. There was some ancient, wounded longing in his voice, like the sound of the tide rushing out. “Don’t ask me why. I can’t tell you.”

“All right,” I said. “I just . . . all right. Are you coming back to the apartment?”

“For a little while.” He sighed. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “Now get in the car.”

It took almost half an hour to fight through the traffic and get back to my place. May and Jazz were snuggled together on the couch when we came in, watching a television show featuring a lot of twenty-something actors pretending to be teens. They looked up when the door opened, initial smiles dying as they saw the expression on Connor’s face and the arrow in my hand. Even for me, that sort of thing doesn’t normally spell “hot date.”

“Bad night?” asked May.

“About like I expected. We’re going to need to call Walther.” I closed the door and stuck the arrow in the umbrella stand, point down. Connor blinked at me. “You have a better idea?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

“Didn’t think so. Guys, the arrow in the umbrella stand is elf-shot. Don’t touch it.”

“And that’s why we’re calling Walther?” asked May.

“Exactly.”

“Right.” Jazz got up. “I’m going to make some coffee.”

“Good call.” One of the cats started twining around my ankles. I bent to scoop her up. “Hello, Cagney. You don’t care that we’re going to war, do you?” She purred. “Didn’t think so.”

“Is it official?” asked May quietly.

“Yeah,” I said. I stood there stroking Cagney as I started filling May in on the events of the night so far. I was about halfway through when Jazz emerged from the kitchen and offered me a mug of coffee, which I took gratefully. Connor interjected occasionally, but was mostly silent, standing close and offering what support he could just by being there. It was surprisingly comforting.