The bad news was that they’d signed a binding agreement with penalties that would send the town and the tri-community area straight back into crippling bankruptcy if they tried to get out of it. That’s what comes of letting a hell-spawn lawyer with powers of persuasion handle the paperwork.

“It would destroy the entire community, Daisy.” Jason Hallifax looked sick. “Literally. And I’m sorry, but I’m not convinced that isn’t a worse outcome. I mean this war . . . it only affects the eldritch, right?”

“I can’t say that for sure. Definitely not if Persephone brings in her own private militia,” I said. “If Hel’s right, we’re talking about ordinary human mortals. Do you want their deaths on your hands?”

Marian Warner, one of the council members, shook her head. “No one wants anyone’s death on their hands, Daisy, but we have to act in the interest of the community, not the members of some hypothetical militia.”

The discussion went on a lot longer, but in the end, the result was the same. It still wasn’t a battle I was ever going to win.

The galling thing was that if I’d had powers of persuasion, I could have gotten them to change their minds in a heartbeat. Actually, if I’d had powers of persuasion, none of this would have happened in the first place. I tried not to think about that, but it was hard. God, I was just so sick of being so fucking helpless! It didn’t seem fair that Persephone or Hades, whichever one had done it, could basically commission a surrogate mother to get knocked up by a demon to breed the living embodiment of every lawyer joke ever written, and that Dufreyne could claim his birthright and wield power with impunity, when all I was trying to do was keep the peace and protect my community.

And it didn’t seem fair that I had to live with the knowledge that power was mine for the asking when I needed it the most. Power; El Mano in my mom’s reading. My greatest desire . . . and my greatest fear.

All I had to do was break the world to get it.

Needless to say, my nightmare returned during the days leading up to the vernal equinox. More often than not, I woke up sweating with terror, the crack of doom ringing in my ears.

Meanwhile, the deal went through, and Elysian Fields officially claimed ownership of Hel’s territory.

But at least my recruitment efforts were paying off.

When I paid a visit to the House of Shadows, for the first time in our acquaintance, Lady Eris treated me as an equal, possibly because she was well and truly pissed off at the notion that her vampire brood would have to find a new haven.

“We have made our home here for more than fifty years,” she said grimly, holding audience in the ballroom. “Abiding by Hel’s order and dwelling in peace alongside mortals and immortals alike. We will not be forced out of our home at the whim of some obsolete goddess.”

Dwelling in peace might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I wasn’t in a mood to argue with her.

“Of course, any aid we might provide must be given by stealth under the cover of night.” Lady Eris gave me a cunning sidelong look. “Hel’s liaison, you speculate that Persephone’s army will be composed of mortal humans. Do we have your mistress’s permission to treat them as lawful prey?”

A soft sigh of indrawn breath went around the perimeter of the ballroom, where the members of her brood were watching and listening.

“Ooh, I’ve never had the chance to drink a mortal dry!” Jen’s sister, Bethany, whispered with creepy delight.

“No.” I held up my rune-marked left hand. El Mano. I pushed that thought away. “Sucking blood and enthralling mercenaries against their will, yes. But they probably have no idea what they signed up for. So no drinking dry, not unless your own lives are, um, at stake. Agreed?”

Lady Eris—I still had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that Eris was actually her real name—rolled her eyes. “Agreed.”

The same sentiments were echoed throughout the eldritch community. No one wanted to be unhomed.

“I’ve got nowhere else to go, mamacita!” Skrrzzzt said in a plaintive tone when I brought a six-pack out to the abandoned Presbyterian camp to talk with him. He gestured around with one thorny, long-fingered hand. “I mean, look at this. A bogle needs a proper haunt. I’ve got over a hundred acres here! You think I’m going to find a hundred-acre haunt in a major metropolitan area?”

“There’s Central Park in New York,” I said. “That’s huge, right?”

The bogle snorted. “If you think there’s an acre of Central Park that hasn’t already been claimed, you’re kidding yourself.”

“I just want to be sure you’re making the right choice,” I said. “I don’t want you to feel pressured because we’re friends.”

“Friends.” Skrrzzzt mulled over the word, then spread his leathery lips in a gaping smile. “Hell yes, we are!” He chugged a beer. “You can count on good ole Skrrzzzt. I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll put you down for the night brigade.”

He shot me an offended look with his molten-lava gaze. “What, you think I’m not good enough to fight in the light of day?”

I was confused. “I thought bogles only came out at night.”

Skrrzzzt waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, that’s a personal choice. I’m not a freaking vampire, mamacita! Hey, if you’ll give me a lift, I’ll introduce you to a couple of trolls who live under a bluff down on the lakeshore.”