They’d found Macy’s truck—her brother’s, actually—and the smashed front end proved that she’d pushed us into the gully. The coroner supported our story that while Gabriel had shot Macy in self-defense, the fatal bullet had come from her own weapon. All this would require an autopsy and further investigation, but Gabriel had identified himself as a defense lawyer, and they didn’t seem concerned he was a flight risk. We were injured and confused and could provide full statements later.

The police were going to drive us back to Cainsville, but as we were about to leave, Rose drove up. So did a second vehicle. The Clarks’ Buick pulled over in front of Rose.

I asked Gabriel to go speak to his aunt while I talked to the Clarks.

“Olivia.” Ida hurried over faster than a seventy-odd-year-old pair of legs ought to hurry. I’d seen signs of this before—little points of evidence that the elders weren’t nearly as old as they appeared.

“What happened?” She looked genuinely concerned, as did Walter beside her. I wished they didn’t.

“Macy Shaw drove us off the road and tried to kill us.”

“Macy . . . ?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know who that is,” I said, lowering my voice as I subtly moved them away from the police. “She’s the girl you took from the Conways and swapped out for Ciara. I know she doesn’t concern you as much as Ciara did. Macy was human. A pawn. Then again, we’re all pawns, whether we have fae blood or not. I know I am.”

There are two ways of reacting to that: confused shock and alarmed shock. While the Tylwyth Teg of Cainsville were good at hiding responses, they still reacted, and it was definitely alarm, squelching any remaining doubts.

“What—?” Walter began after a moment. “Whatever are you talking about, Olivia? Have you hit your head?”

Ida waved him to silence, her bright eyes piercing mine. “It was Patrick, wasn’t it? Patrick and his wild stories. He likes to cause trouble—”

“Of course. That’s what hobgoblins do.” I moved closer, towering over her. “You don’t need to admit to anything, Ida. Just don’t insult me by denying it. I ran the DNA. I know the girls were switched. I know why. I know why I can see omens, too. Why Rose has the second sight. I know how the Larsens managed to lose me in the system. Another form of changeling magic. Not a switch of children, but of parents, which is the point anyway. Like a bird sneaking its eggs into another nest, hoping to give its offspring a better chance at survival, which sounds very sweet, except they’re just birds—they don’t care about their chicks, only about their blood, their lineage. Sound familiar?”

“That is not true, Olivia. Every parent cares—”

“Like Patrick? How he cares about Gabriel?”

Surprise flashed across her face. I lowered my voice again and made sure Gabriel was still talking to his aunt. “I know who Gabriel’s father is. I put the pieces together. Patrick didn’t tell me anything, so don’t blame him. I’ll blame him, though, for what he did to Gabriel. Like I blame you for nearly getting us killed tonight, and for the dead girl who’s being taken back to a morgue in Chicago, and for the dead girl I found in the Carew house—the one whose body you stole—robbing her parents even of the chance to bury her. I blame you for all of it.”

“No amount of explanation will convince you we are blameless. We aren’t. But you need to understand, even if you can’t agree with what we’ve done.” She laid her hand on my arm. “Give us a chance to explain.”

I looked into her eyes, and I felt the tug of her words. Maybe it was influence or fae charm. Maybe it was just me. I loved Cainsville. I loved my place here, my home here. I wanted an explanation that could put things right.

“Olivia?”

Gabriel’s voice made me jump. He took a step my way. Just a step. A question. Did I want him over here?

“He cares for you,” Ida murmured. “As you care for him.”

“Someone has to,” I snapped back. “God knows you didn’t.”

Did I imagine it or did she flinch?

“We tried—” she began.

“You wanted to switch him. Patrick wouldn’t allow it. That’s not what I mean. There are other ways of looking after your young, Ida. Human ways. But I guess that’s too much trouble. Pawn them off on someone else. Let them deal with the problems you inflicted, the problems your blood caused.”

“We—”

“Save the excuses. If I need answers”—I pulled the boar’s tusk from my purse and waggled it at her—“the Cwn Annwn are more than willing to give them. That’s where I should have gone in the first place. Maybe I could have prevented all this.”

I walked away. She tried to call me back. Walter stepped into my path. That had Gabriel striding forward, clearing his throat in warning, and they backed off, settling instead for turning their pleas to him. We needed to talk. All of us. They would explain. This wasn’t what it seemed.

Gabriel steered me to Rose’s car. She stood outside the driver’s door, and I could tell this scene made her uncomfortable. She wanted us to listen to the elders. But when we got into the car, she climbed in and drove us back to Cainsville without another word.

—

I stood on the sidewalk outside my apartment building. Rose had retreated into her house. Gabriel was beside me, saying nothing, just letting me look up at the building in the gathering darkness.

“I can’t stay here,” I said.

“I’m sure Rose—”

“Cainsville, I mean. I can’t stay.”

Silence. I looked over, expecting him to argue, to tell me I was being foolish.

“I would agree,” he said. “For now.”

“Until we figure this out, it’s like living in enemy territory. Maybe that’s being dramatic—”

“It’s not. That’s why I suggested you quit at the diner. You are accepting their protection and their hospitality, which puts you in their debt now that you realize it.”

“I’ll take a few days off at the diner. And away from here. I’ll grab a hotel room while I sort this out.”

“You can, if you insist, but I have a better idea.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

I stood at the wall-sized window in Gabriel’s fifty-fifth-floor condo and fought the urge to press my nose against the glass. The night view was amazing. I swore I could see the entire city, lit up.