“You mean Danny?”

“Yes, Danny. Who has, by the way, called twice to say that he hasn’t found anything, but he wants to help. Poor guy’s going to show up and start offering to get things down from high shelves if we don’t give him something to do soon.” May shrugged. “Interrogating a box of rocks is probably about right.”

“Okay. Good. That’s a good idea.” I leaned over again, gingerly removing the needles and vial from the box of papers. “I need you to start sorting through these scraps. Try to put them in order by the writing on the backs, not whatever happens to be on the front.”

She gave the box an uneasy glance. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s Raysel’s diary. Sort of.”

“Of course it is.” May shuddered, jostling Jazz. Jazz made a sleepy sound of protest and snuggled closer, eyes still shut. “What’s that you’re holding?”

“I don’t know yet, but these are going to Walther.” I ducked into the kitchen, returning with Raysel’s potential poisoning gear in a sealed Ziploc baggie. “I found them in Raysel’s bathroom.”

“Charming.” May wrinkled her nose. “How did things go with the Luidaeg?”

“She’s contacting the Lordens to arrange a meeting, and she made this for me.” Opening my jacket, I displayed the pin shoved through the lining. “This will let me visit the Undersea, somehow. I’m a little fuzzy on the details. That’s probably intentional. The Luidaeg likes to keep me guessing.”

“That’s because she knows you well enough to know that you wouldn’t go through with things if you knew what you were getting into,” said May, in an irritatingly logical tone. “I mean, really, if I wanted you to go underwater for an extended period of time, I’d want you to do as little thinking as possible before you went under. You’d be less likely to freak out that way.”

“Oh, that’s real nice,” I said, wrinkling my nose at her. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side here? A little support would be—”

The sound of the doorbell cut me off mid-sentence. Jazz sat up with a squeak, while Raj arched his back and hissed. Even Quentin jumped, hand going to his belt where—through the glitter of his human disguise—I could just see the outline of a scabbard.

I stalked to the door, wrenching it open. “What?!”

Connor didn’t flinch. Putting his hands against the sides of my face, he stepped close and kissed me deeply. I grabbed his wrists, using the added leverage to pull myself closer to him. For a moment—a brief, sweet moment—I forgot we were on the verge of war. His skin was damp, and his lips tasted even more like salt than they usually did. He’d been in the water recently. Connor was the only one who could make that thought appealing to me.

He broke the kiss but didn’t let go. Pressing his forehead to mine, he asked, “Are you all right?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I laughed unsteadily. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He kissed me again. This one didn’t last as long, but what it lacked in length, it made up for in sheer knee-weakening need. Finally, he pulled away, and said, “I’m also here on business. The Duchess wants you. Can you come?”

It took me a moment to realize he meant Duchess Lorden, not Luna. I stared at him before looking back to the others. Quentin was looking at the wall, cheeks and ears burning red.

May shook her head. “Never a moment’s peace around here, is there? Go. Do your job. Also, hi, Connor. I’m glad I’m not the one who opened the door.”

“Hi, May.” Connor smiled at her, letting go of me. “Don’t worry, I can tell the two of you apart.”

“You have no idea what a relief that is. Now make sure she comes home.” May turned her attention to Jazz, who was looking sleepily around the room. Dating a day-dweller isn’t easy. I did it when I was with Cliff, and I didn’t envy May the challenge.

The situation was getting away from me again. “I’ve got time,” I said. “The Queen doesn’t expect me until dusk tomorrow. Let’s go.”

“I’m coming,” announced Quentin. “I’m her squire.”

Connor blinked. “Okay, wow, I missed that memo. Sure, whatever. No one’s going to separate you from your knight.” He offered me a quick smile. “I brought a car.”

“Great. We’re definitely going to die.” I stepped onto the front porch, adding, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” May waved after us, and Quentin closed the door behind himself as he followed us outside.

Connor’s car was a boxy white rental, the sort of thing even the tourists try to avoid. Even better, it was illegally parked in front of a fire hydrant. He unlocked the doors with a click of the keys, and all three of us got in.

I fastened my seat belt, checking it to make sure it was tight. Connor’s not the world’s worst driver—that honor’s reserved for May—but that doesn’t make him good. “Where are we going?” I asked, once I was sure I wouldn’t fly out of the moving car.

“Ghirardelli Square.”

I stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“We’re meeting Duchess Lorden at a secure location just down the street,” he said, and started the engine.

San Francisco is a city full of people who like it when our desserts come with a floorshow, and that makes Ghirardelli Square a San Francisco institution. Where else can you get expensive chocolate and the amusement of watching tourists try to eat sundaes bigger than their heads? Unfortunately, that means the Square gets filled to capacity with people who think it’s “quaint.” Driving in that area is a nightmare. It wasn’t likely to be as bad at four in the morning, but after living in the city as long as I have, I’ve developed a natural aversion.

I got increasingly tense as we drove toward the wharf area where Ghirardelli Square is located. Connor’s driving wasn’t helping. I closed my eyes after the third time he turned the wrong way on a one-way street. That was when Quentin started popping his knuckles, producing a nerve-grinding sound that made my teeth itch. Every time I thought he was finished, he started over again, as Connor drove us jerkily toward our destination.

I was starting to think there’d be a homicide before we got there, and I wasn’t sure which one of us was going to be the killer.