I’d already taken a shower—and I’d been shocked to find my clothes clean and folded and my boots buffed when I got out—but I still wasn’t fully awake, so I headed for the kitchen while I waited for the car to arrive. I was on the hunt for coffee when a cabinet door smashed open behind me.

“Outta there. Outta there,” Osier yelled, charging out from under the sink. He swatted my calf with his spoon hard enough to sting through the thick leather of my boots. “My kitchen.”

I jumped back. “I was looking for coffee.”

“Little girls shouldn’t drink coffee. It’ll stunt your growth.”

I wasn’t sure which I should object to more: that he thought I was a girl or that he thought I’d be growing any taller. “Point me in the right direction and I’ll be out of your kitchen in a minute.”

“Sit,” he said, using the spoon to gesture toward the white table by the window. “Suppose you want grilled cheese. Always did like grilled cheese best.”

What I wanted was coffee, but now that he mentioned it, real food would be good too. “What do you mean, always?” I asked as he shooed me to the table.

“Boy would say hamburgers or spaghetti. But, no, you’d cry grilled cheese, grilled cheese. Cried more than the baby. Always had to leave to get more cheese.”

I gaped at the little man. I did have an older brother and a younger sister. “Have I met you before, Osier?”

“Helped raise you, didn’t I?” He waved his spoon, and a tub of butter and a chunk of cheese floated out of the fridge, a pan jumped down from a cabinet over the stove, and the bread took itself out of the bread box.

Osier marched along the counter like a general overseeing his troops as he directed the grilled cheese sandwich to assemble itself. A moment before, I would have been mystified and intrigued by the magic required for a sandwich to cook itself, but now, with his words still ringing in the air, it was his statement that left me speechless.

I had absolutely no memory of the brownie. Hell, I would have sworn I’d never seen a brownie before I met Ms. B less than a week ago. If Osier had “helped raise” me, as he put it, I must have been young. Really young. I’d spent most of my time at academy after I turned eight, and my brother, Brad, had disappeared a year after that.

The sandwich, lightly browned on the outside with a runnel of cheese escaping between the thick pieces of bread, floated out of the pan and hovered as it crossed the room. A plate followed, a tall glass of milk right behind it.

“So you knew my family when I was a kid?” I asked. Osier jumped onto the table and sat cross-legged in front of me as first the plate, then the sandwich, and finally the glass settled between us. “Still know the family, don’t I? Though I’ve never seen much of the baby and I’ve been told the boy is gone. Sad, that. He was a good boy. Liked more than just grilled cheese.” As he spoke, he looked from the mentioned meal to me, his gaze asking why I wasn’t eating.

“It’s not faerie food, is it?” I thought it was a perfectly legitimate question; after all, it had just prepared itself.

Osier jumped to his feet and slammed the butt of his spoon against the tabletop. “Ungrateful. Selfish. Spoiled—”

“Look, look, I’m eating,” I said, and true to my word, I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. “It’s good.” And it was. I mean, it was grilled cheese, so it didn’t exactly take refined tastes to enjoy it, but it was crispy on the outside and gooey in the center, which pretty much classified it as perfect.

As I ate, a car stopped out front and honked its horn. I crammed the rest of the sandwich in my mouth and jumped to my feet. “That’s my taxi.”

“Taxi? It’s the middle of the night. Girl should be sleeping.”

I didn’t disagree, but unfortunately, going back to bed wasn’t an option. I whistled for PC, and Osier bristled as the small dog pranced into the room.

“Outta my kitchen,” he yelled, charging forward with the spoon.

I scooped up PC before the brownie could reach him. “He’ll be out in a second,” I said, and then looked around for my purse. I’d left it in the bedroom. The taxi horn honked a second time as I dropped PC on the bed before opening my purse and encouraging him to crawl inside. I didn’t like the idea of taking PC with me to meet the kidnapper and make the exchange—even if I would have police backup—but leaving him alone with Osier wasn’t an option.

The brownie was muttering about good girls, curfews, and bedtimes when I walked out the door. I left him to it, and I actually hoped to see the grumpy little guy again—more so because if I didn’t see him again, it would probably mean I was in jail. And headed for Faerie.

Or dead.

The cabdriver wasn’t happy when I told him where we were going, but at least he didn’t grumble too loudly as I slid into the backseat. I was headed to the bridge almost an hour early, but I was hoping for time to prepare before Holly’s kidnapper arrived. I hadn’t decided if I would wait inside a magic circle or if I’d just have one ready, but I definitely wanted to have enough time to draw one.

We’d just reached the south side of the city where the tall skyscrapers vanished in favor of sprawling and dimly lit warehouses when Roy popped into the car.

“Uh, Alex, bad news,” he said.

I had time to turn, my mouth falling open in preparation for a question. Then a car pulled out of a side street directly ahead of us, the glare of its headlights flooding the interior of the cab. The new car skidded to a halt in the middle of the intersection, and the cabbie stood on the brakes.

If the brakes had been powered by cursing, the cab would have frozen in space. As it was, they squealed loudly, and the car skidded to one side. I grabbed PC as the momentum threw us forward. My forehead bounced off the seat in front of me and the seat belt cut tight, bruising my hips and chest. But the cab stopped.

What the hell? I jerked my head up, squinting into the headlights that still washed us in a blinding glare. “Bell?” I asked, twisting to look at Roy.

He nodded as two more cars jetted to a stop behind the cab.

Crap. I had to get out of here. The warehouse district wasn’t big on traffic at one in the morning, so no chance the cars belonged to tourists.

“When I said warn me, I meant before they were to the point of setting up roadblocks,” I hissed, struggling with the seat belt. The cabbie must have still had his foot on the brake, because the belt was locked around me with not an inch of give.

“Bell’s been in hiding. I didn’t know until his men emerged,” Roy said, his gaze riveted on the back window. The light filling the cab dimmed for a moment, as if something—or someone—had passed in front of the headlights. “Alex, you need to get out of here.”

No shit. The seat belt finally gave way and I tugged the strap of my purse over my shoulder as I slid across the seat.

“Your company has my card information,” I yelled to the cabdriver, who’d thrown the cab into park and was climbing out of the driver’s seat. I didn’t try to stop him but wrenched my own door open.

Too late. Skimmers were already descending on the cab. Now what?

“Find Falin,” I whispered to Roy as I jumped out.

“But he can’t—” the ghost began.

Yeah, Falin couldn’t see Roy. I knew that. Still, someone had to know the skimmers had come for me, and my phone was in my purse, under the dog, so I didn’t exactly have time to call 911.

“Just find him. Tell him what happened.” Somehow.

I hit the pavement running and darted around the closest skimmer. I dashed for the sprawling warehouse across the street—not that I had a plan for once I reached it. The purse in my arms shook as PC trembled, but I didn’t have time to comfort him.

Behind me, the cabbie cursed, yelling at the car blocking the road. I didn’t see the spell that sent him to the pavement, but I sensed it: a medicinal-grade sleeping charm. I also sensed a couple of tracking charms—probably the best that money could buy. No wonder they found me so fast.

I had one foot of the sidewalk when a guy who spent way too much time in the gym grabbed my arm. He jerked me back, shoving me toward the rear bumper of the cab.

“Hey!”

“Boss wants to see you,” he said. Then he pushed my pelvis against the side panel of the cab and wrenched my arm behind my back. No sleep charm for me. He snapped a handcuff around my wrist, locking it tight with a click. The cold metal instantly heated against my skin and began to itch and a wave of nausea rolled through me. Crap. High iron content. Asshole.

“I think there’s been some mistake,” I said, struggling in his grasp as I tried to twist free. My efforts might as well have been those of a child. Without missing a beat, he grabbed my other arm and jerked it behind me.

“Watch the dog!”

His hands actually hesitated, and I think he realized for the first time that PC was there. The dog’s presence seemed to stump him. What, he’s never seen a dog in a purse before? That or he thought PC was some sort of hairless rat—that happened. Either way, I used his distraction to my advantage and slammed the heel of my boot into his foot.

“Bitch.” He grabbed my hair and shoved my face against the car. Pain exploded across my cheek, my vision blaring red for a moment. By the time I could feel anything other than the sting, my hands were both cuffed. The goon hauled me back, dragging me away from the taxi.

Goon Two—I’d wondered where he was—opened the door to an ancient square monstrosity of a car as I was shoved toward it. The other skimmers just stood and watched, or ran to their own cars as I was forcibly abducted. PC ducked low in my purse.

I was a foot from the car when the raver chick popped into the space in front of me, blocking the door.

“Okay, we’ve reached a consensus,” she said, hands on her hips and nails boring into the plastic of her pants.

“But for the record, I’m still opposed.” The gray man popped into the space beside me.