“Cat got your tongue?” Dufreyne inquired.

I pointed to the cross on his palm. “That’s got to hurt.”

“Not yet, but it will. Soon, if I don’t do something about it.” He bared his unnaturally white teeth in another feral smile. “I bet it didn’t bother you one bit to hold this little charm, did it? Born of an innocent and all. But you’re not so innocent, are you, Daisy?” He tsk-tsked me again, this time without the finger wag. “Calling in a bomb threat? That’s a federal offense. Do you know what kind of sentence it carries?”

“No,” I said. “Why would I?”

Dufreyne ignored me. “Ten years and a quarter of a million dollars.” He paused, frowning. “I’ll admit, I can’t quite figure that part out yet. You had to have had help, and very sophisticated help at that. But no matter.” He shrugged. “I’ll save that for later. At the moment, I’ve far bigger fish to fry.” His voice took on a low, velvety, reverberating note. “Once Pemkowet’s affairs are settled, I’ll make it a point to find out who your friends and connections are and persuade them to talk.”

A wave of fury washed over me, lifting my hair, making it crackle with static electricity. “What the hell do you want?”

“From you, cousin?” Dufreyne asked, sliding his other hand from his coat pocket. “Nothing you’re willing to give. Not yet, anyway. But here’s what I think of your little town’s magic.” Stripping off his glove, he transferred the silver cross into his bare left hand and closed his fingers over it, closing his eyes with a slight wince. That sense of wrongness intensified as he concentrated hard. An acrid scent of hot metal arose, and molten silver dripped from his clenched fist, hissing as it puddled and cooled on the wet concrete.

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, staring at him with hatred, filled with helpless rage.

“Ah, that’s better.” Dufreyne sighed with pleasure and opened his eyes, opened his hand to show me his unmarked palm. “See? All gone.”

“Fuck you!” I said with impotent fury, tears stinging. “Fuck you and everything you stand for!”

“Do you know what’s funny?” Daniel Dufreyne leaned toward me, his reek surrounding me. “What I just did? That’s nothing to the power you stand to inherit.” He snapped his fingers. “Nothing. You could reign over what’s left of this mortal plane. All these petty pagan gods in their twilight years would bow to your will. And all you have to do is ask for it.”

My right hand came up hard and fast, and I planted dauda-dagr’s tip in the hollow of his throat. If we hadn’t been in public . . . I don’t know what I would have done. I honestly don’t. Fear flickered in Dufreyne’s eyes, a wisp of frost rising from his skin where the dagger’s point dented it.

“Get out,” I whispered. “Tell your master Hades that Hel’s territory is not for sale, not at any price. And if he tries to take it, Hel intends to defend it with every weapon she has.”

Backing away, Dufreyne raised his hands. “Oh, we’ll see about that,” he said smoothly. “And I told you, Hades has no interest in Pemkowet. By the time this is over, you’ll wish he did. At least Hades is reasonable.”

“Well, who does, then?” I shouted at him. “Goddammit! Who’s behind Elysian Fields?”

Reaching behind him, Dufreyne opened the door of his Jaguar and eased himself into the driver’s seat. “I’ll be seeing you, cousin,” he said before closing the door between us.

Seething with helpless anger, I watched him drive away.

Then I went inside and called Casimir. “We’re in trouble.”

      Forty-five

Two days later, the trial concluded. According to reports, the jury took all of about ten minutes to find in favor of the plaintiffs and award them the entire forty-five-million-dollar settlement.

Judge Martingale approved the settlement in record time, and gave the Pemkowet tri-community governments a hundred and eighty days to pay the entirety of this impossible sum.

It’s not like the writing hadn’t been on the wall for most of the trial’s duration, but the verdict unleashed a firestorm of acrimony and recrimination. Residents of Pemkowet Township complained bitterly about the unfairness of being dragged into the lawsuit in the first place, and officials from Pemkowet and East Pemkowet pointed fingers at one another. Chief Bryant got his fair share of criticism, but the worst vitriol was reserved for Amanda Brooks, who in turn blamed her daughter.

Of course, everyone knew the entire trial was a farce and that in a sane world, the verdict would be overturned on appeal. But that’s not what happened.

The town hall meeting—actually a tri-community meeting—that turned our lives upside down was scheduled on short notice to discuss the situation. If it hadn’t been for Lurine, I’d have been in a state of near despair, but she remained surprisingly upbeat about the state of affairs, even after I confessed the whole fake-bomb-threat-slash-protection-charm caper to her.

“No offense, cupcake, but I really think your little coven could have come up with a less, um, dangerously illegal plan,” she said mildly. “Don’t worry about this Dufreyne and his threat. One way or another, I’ll take care of him.”

I eyed her. “Not that I’m entirely opposed to the notion, but is there a way that doesn’t involve squishing him?”