I had expected him to use some magical Fae ruse to get us out of here, not the tried-and-true chair-under-the-doorknob trick. I was actually kind of disappointed at the simplicity of it all.

“Hurry,” Keane hissed as he jerked open the front door. “That won’t hold him long.”

With a spike of adrenaline that was half excitement, half fear, I followed Keane out into Avalon’s massive tunnel system. We started down the tunnel at a brisk jog, Keane lighting our way with a flashlight. I hoped like hell he knew where he was going. I’d gotten lost in these tunnels once before, and it hadn’t been any fun.

We turned a corner at the first intersection we came to. I heard a faint pounding sound in the distance that might have been Finn hammering on the door, and a little shiver ran down my spine. I’d never seen Finn mad before, but I had a feeling that was going to change before the night was out. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

We took another couple of turns, and I started to slow down, running out of gas. Keane grabbed my arm and pulled me along.

“Keep moving,” he urged me. “If my dad guesses right and stays on our tail, he’ll catch up to us in no time.”

I didn’t have the breath to argue, so I forced my legs to keep moving. Our footsteps sounded frighteningly loud as we ran, but the stone walls of the tunnels bounced the sound around so much I knew it would be hard to judge which direction it came from.

My safe house is pretty deep in the mountain, far off the beaten path—the better to defend it, naturally. I wasn’t sure how we managed to get electricity and running water down there—the tunnels themselves weren’t lighted this deep in the mountain—but I’d never wondered enough to ask. Well-defended it might be, but it also made it quite a hike to get to the surface.

The Deep is relatively close to the surface, in an underground commercial district that was usually packed on a Friday night. The presence of the Wild Hunt had inspired a lot of people to stay home behind locked doors. You could definitely tell there was a pall on the city, and the news was full of reports about tourists cutting their visits short and fleeing to the relative safety of England.

Keane and I slowed to a casual walk as soon as we stepped into the first lighted tunnel. As usual, he looked fresh and ready to run some wind sprints, while I was gasping for breath and dripping with sweat, my muscles burning with the exertion. I really hoped Kimber would appreciate the effort it took for me to show up tonight.

We stopped briefly at a little tea shop, where I ducked into the restroom to change into my dress and wash the sweat from my face. I’d never heard of a teen’s birthday party where you had to wear a dress, but Kimber had been adamant: her party, her rules. (Never mind that her dad had kinda usurped her party by inviting bunches of people she didn’t know.)

The dress I wore was one Kimber and I had picked out together. It was a gorgeous deep blue silk that brought out the color of my eyes, and I instantly felt older and more sophisticated when I pulled it on over my head. The neckline was low enough to be sexy on a girl who actually had anything up top. On me, it looked a little more like wishful thinking.

I finished the outfit off with dangly earrings and thick, rhinestone-studded flip-flops. I’d let Kimber talk me into wearing a dress for this thing, but no way was I wearing heels!

I felt surprisingly self-conscious and shy when I stepped out of the bathroom. Keane had never seen me dressed in anything but workout clothes, and though it had never occurred to me that I’d care what he thought, I found myself holding my breath as he turned away from sniffing a cannister of loose tea and caught sight of me.

His eyes widened just a bit, and I watched him give me the once-over. Then he nodded at me. “You clean up nice.”

I remembered to breathe and resisted the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my fancy silk dress. I guessed that was as much of a compliment as I was going to get out of Keane. I was unpleasantly surprised to find I wanted more. Could I be any more pathetically in search of approval?

“That makes one of us,” I muttered, and Keane laughed. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his sparring clothes, but since he didn’t exactly have to work up a sweat to beat me, he was at least presentable.

Okay, he was more than presentable. Those emerald green eyes of his could take the breath right out of my lungs no matter how he was dressed, especially with that one lock of jet-black hair that curled right over his eyebrow. And let’s not even talk about his body, which he liked to show off beneath tight jeans and even tighter T-shirts. I doubted very much that Kimber would mind his failure to dress up.

Keane held out his elbow to me. “Ready?”

I raised my eyebrows. What, was he going to escort me in like some matron at a wedding? The gesture seemed quaintly old-fashioned, especially on a self-proclaimed bad boy like Keane.

I found myself snaking my hand through the crook of his elbow without having consciously decided to do so. Blood warmed my cheeks as he led me out of the tea shop toward the stairway that led down into The Deep.

Despite my dad’s fear that the party would represent a “security risk,” Keane and I were stopped by a couple of bouncers demanding to see my invitation before we even got to the doorway at the club. I was glad I’d brought it with me, but even when I produced it—for Dana Hathaway “and guest”—the bouncers wouldn’t let us through because I wasn’t on “the list.”

I let out a little groan of frustration. I guess when I’d told Kimber I wouldn’t be able to make it, my name had gotten crossed off the list. Luckily, the bouncers weren’t total assholes. One of them stayed out in the hall with Keane and me, while the other ducked into the club with my invitation in hand to check with Kimber.