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me, and I assume it wasn’t just for an update, since I’ve been reporting to your dad.”
    Rhiana pulled the piece of notepaper from her handbag and laid it on the bar. Jack read the notation and quirked an eyebrow inquiringly at her. “I found this in Grenier’s office,” Rhiana explained. “Since Grenier thought this Sandringham guy was important, I think we need to find him, and I want you to help me.”
    “That seems to be all I ever do for you guys. I find people for you,” Jack complained. “When do I ever get to be part of the big game?”
    “When I do,” Rhiana said. “And before that can happen I have to capture Richard.” She laid a finger on Richard’s name where it was scrawled on the paper.
    Her nail resembled a blood-tipped talon. Rhiana stared for a moment at the long acrylic nail. Thought about the optical illusion that had turned Jack’s fingers red. Thought about the news coverage of women and children trampled to death during a religious procession in Mexico when word had come that miraculous cures were happening inside the tiny shrine. Thought about the Druidic group that had decided to resurrect human sacrifice as a way to tap the power. The normally unflappable British had been shaken by that event. And these were isolated incidents. More would follow in frequency and intensity. She felt a moment of doubt, but when she weakened the bonds that held her physical body she could feel the power, flame-like, licking at the edges of thought and emotion. It was enthralling, heady, far more intoxicating than the Dubonnet she’d tried.
    “Richard is this paladin, right?” Jack asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Do you know anything about …” Jack glanced back down at the paper. “Sandringham?”
    “I did an internet search. He owns a boutique brokerage firm in New York.”
    “So if you’ve already found him you don’t need me,” Jack said.
    “I want you to go with me when I talk to him. There’s a connection to Richard. I just don’t know what it is.”
    “Why me?”
    “I’m young and a woman, so people don’t take me seriously.” Rhiana gave a humorless little smile. “At least not yet. But you’re a man. You’re famous, or at least infamous. People will talk to you.”
    “Aren’t you the Queen of the Night, or the Princess of Air and Fire, or the King of Elfland’s Daughter, or some other damn thing? Take one of …” He hesitated and nervously licked his lips. “One of
them
with you. The guy will talk, trust me.”
    Rhiana studied him and couldn’t control her amusement. “So, I guess you got a gander at my dad when he’s not in his human form.”
    “And some others.” Jack drew a hand across an upper lip suddenly shining with sweat.
    Rhiana shook her head. “I don’t want the Old Ones knowing what I’m doing until I’ve finished the job.”
    “I don’t want to piss them off,” Jack said.
    “If we succeed they’ll be very, very happy with me … and anyone who helped me.”
    “What if we don’t succeed?”
    “I’ll take all the blame,” Rhiana said.
    “Yeah, like I can take that to the bank,” Jack said.
    “I trust you,” Rhiana said simply.
    “Why?” Jack asked.
    “Because you’re smart enough not to totally trust the Old Ones. Because I have something you want, and because you’re the only human I know who doesn’t hate me.”
    The words just came tumbling out. Rhiana gasped, lifted a hand to her mouth. Her stomach clenched down tight, and her mind began whirling, playing the “
I didn’t say it. Why did I say that
?
What if I’d said something else?
” game. She wanted to cry.
    He missed the center of the cocktail coaster. The martini glass teetered between cork and wood, then fell. Rhiana watched the tendrils of gin catch the light. Small rainbows raced across the top of the bar.
    It was Jack’s arms sliding gently around her shoulders that brought her back. “Why not? I like New York. Maybe we can catch a show.”

SEVEN
    “ Y ou must have