“Barely,” I said. “It was a near thing. And what I said to Persephone . . . I meant it.” I shuddered. “It was hard.”

“I know, baby girl. I know it was. But you did it.” Lurine gave me another squeeze, then released me. “Let’s go home.”

      Fifty-six

The next day, I reported to Chief Bryant.

In addition to the casualties on the battlefield, three mercenaries—and seven head of cattle—had been found dead, run ragged until their hearts stopped. At least there were no human civilian casualties. For once, people had heeded my advice and stayed indoors, avoiding the Wild Hunt.

“I don’t quite know what I’m supposed to do about this, Daisy,” the chief said when I’d finished, drumming his thick fingers on his desk. “How do I even begin to investigate?”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t think you do,” I said quietly. “These weren’t homicides. They were casualties of war.”

Chief Bryant regarded me. “I’m not sure the law appreciates that distinction.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what else to tell you, sir.”

In the end, he let it go.

I don’t think it was easy for him, and I’m pretty sure it involved a call from the private security company that Persephone had contracted. I felt guilty knowing that the families of the men who’d died would never know the truth; but then again, maybe it was better that they didn’t. Especially the men who died in terror and exhaustion beneath the onslaught of the Wild Hunt.

It’s hard to say.

One thing was for sure—those deaths were on my head, and I knew it. I’d done my best to prevent this war from happening, but I’d given the Oak King the go-ahead to summon the Wild Hunt. And if I had it to do over again, I’d make the same decision. Those mercenaries had been ruthless and efficient. If the Wild Hunt hadn’t thrown them into chaos at the outset, the battle might have been over before it began.

And there was always that chance that the entirety of existence would have unraveled if they hadn’t. So yeah, I was willing to bear that burden.

The mood in town was one of cautious relief. After our debriefing, the chief released a statement announcing that all paranormal hostilities in Pemkowet had ceased and that Persephone had had a change of heart and decided to donate the property back to the city.

Of course there were rumors and gossip—and the issue of whether or not to appeal the settlement was renewed—but for the most part, everyone was glad to have things back to normal.

Well, as normal as they ever got in Pemkowet.

Although that wasn’t entirely true. Word got out about a convoy of Fairfaxes and Outcast converging on Doc Howard’s clinic after the battle. Between that, Cody’s challenge to Persephone at the town meeting, and generations’ worth of mysterious wolf howls in the wilderness, enough people finally put two and two together that the Fairfax clan was officially outed.

It went over surprisingly well. Despite their clannish ways, the Fairfaxes were well liked, considered to be solid citizens and good neighbors, so if they were werewolves, werewolves must be okay.

And of course everything had changed for the Outcast.

I had dinner with Stefan at the Market Bistro a few days after the epic battle. It felt strange to sit across from an ordinary—well, not ordinary, a formerly immortal Bohemian knight was never going to be ordinary—mortal man instead of a supernatural predator. Strange to know that Stefan could no longer read my emotions like a book, strange not to be able to gauge the extent of his hunger in the waxing and waning of his pupils.

Hell, speaking of hunger, it was even strange to see him eating and drinking with genuine relish.

Stefan even looked different. The pale sheen of otherness was gone from his skin. He looked younger and more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, laughing at my account of how peeved the vampires at the House of Shadows, especially Bethany Cassopolis, were to have missed the entire battle.

“So how is it?” I asked him when we were lingering over after-dinner drinks. “Being mortal again?”

“It is difficult to put into words,” Stefan said slowly. “Every day, I feel as though I am discovering the world anew.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?” I asked.

“For the most part, yes.” He inclined his head. “I regret that I can no longer provide solace to those in need, such as the residents of the Open Hearth home, but to be free of the endless hunger . . .” Stefan took a deep breath and released it. “It is as though a great weight has been lifted from my soul.” His expression turned grave. “Forgive me for not trusting you atop the dune, Daisy. I was wrong to attempt to stop you.”

Yeah, we hadn’t talked about that yet.

I shook my head. “No, you were right. You didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You did, though,” he said.

“Not until I saw your face,” I said. “That’s when I understood. If you hadn’t tried to stop me . . . I don’t know.”

Stefan’s brows rose. “If you had not yet thought to attempt to bargain with God, why did you begin the ritual?”

“The Norn told me to trust my heart,” I murmured. “And all my heart was telling me was that I had to stop what was happening.”

We sat in silence with that for a moment. I thought about the fact that now that Stefan was mortal, we could actually have a normal relationship. I could fall asleep in his arms. We could raise a family. We could grow old together.