“What is it you have against the phone?” There was a noticeable hint of desperation in my voice.

“I’m not doing this to be cruel,” he responded, his tone turning gentle. “The telephone is an inadequate medium for negotiations. It is too … impersonal. I promise that you will be safe with me, and that I will use no coercion, magical or otherwise, to bend you to my will.”

And what, exactly, was the Erlking’s promise worth? I had no clue. Lots of the old legends of Faerie claim that the Fae are incapable of lying, but I’d seen more than enough evidence that that wasn’t true.

“How can I believe you will offer me anything of worth if you are not willing to come face-to-face with me to talk?” he asked.

Damn it! I hated to admit it, but he was right. Any deal I made would require me to face him one way or another. Shivering in superstitious dread, I said, “All right. You win this round. I’ll come meet you.” Oh, God. How big a mistake was I making? “You said you would send me a charm. How exactly are you planning to do that? It’s not like the postal service delivers down here.” My mail theoretically went through my dad’s address, though it wasn’t like I had any mail to speak of. I rather doubted my dad was going to give me anything that came from the Erlking.

“You will see,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “I will see you soon, Dana Faeriewalker.”

He hung up without saying good-bye.

*   *   *

I had a hard time falling asleep that night. Go figure.

I kept replaying my conversation with the Erlking over and over, wondering if there would have been some way I could have reached a different outcome. I doubted it. He held all the cards.

Of course, I also wondered just how crazy I had to be to even consider sneaking out of my safe house to go meet the very enemy I was supposed to be hiding from. Well, one of them, anyway. But the alternative was to turn my back on Ethan, and I couldn’t do it. I might not want Ethan for a boyfriend—the jury was still out on that—but I couldn’t deny I cared about him. Not to mention that little detail of how he’d risked his life to save mine. If I had to put myself in danger to save him, then I was just going to have to suck it up and do it.

I tossed and turned for hours, not getting to sleep until after three. I figured that meant I would sleep in—I wasn’t expecting Keane this morning—but despite my exhaustion, I woke up at a little after six. I groaned.

My alarm clock glowed at about half strength, which meant we were somewhere in the vicinity of dawn. Not an hour I’m very fond of even at my most well-rested. I flopped over and closed my eyes, hoping to sink right back into sleep. But the moment I settled down, I heard it: a soft tap, tap, tap. It was that sound that had woken me up.

I was still tempted to go back to sleep, but the sound made a chill go down my spine. I had no idea what it could be, but it was way too close to me for comfort.

Telling myself it had to be something completely innocuous, I turned toward the sound and opened my eyes.

At first, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I’m not the neatest person in the world, so my nightstand was covered with crap, only the little space in front of the clock uncluttered so I could see the time.

Tap, tap, tap.

I blinked. The sound was coming from my nightstand, I was sure of it. I sat up, my eyes scanning the piled books, papers, hair bands, and other junk that lay discarded on the table. And that’s when I saw something among the clutter that definitely wasn’t mine.

It was a small silver statue of a stag, maybe about three inches high. Its body was sleek and curved, almost like a greyhound, and its antlers, almost as big as its body, were sharp enough to draw blood.

My heart went ka-thump, and another chill traveled down my spine. I remembered the antlers on the Erlking’s mask and his helmet, and I remembered the tattoo he and his Huntsmen wore. No chance in hell this stag didn’t belong to him. But how on earth had it gotten here?

Tap, tap, tap.

I blinked, wondering if maybe I was having a bad dream. But no, the stag did it again, lifted one delicate leg and tapped its hoof against the wooden table. It then tilted its head up as if to look at me, then looked over its shoulder at the door to my bedroom.

“Holy crap,” I said in a choked whisper.

The stag repeated the gesture, tapping on the table, looking at me, then looking at the door. Call me crazy, but I think it wanted me to get moving. My heart hammering, my palms clammy, I slid my feet out of bed. The stag nodded, then leapt from my nightstand to the floor, its hooves making an almost crystalline ringing sound when it landed. It trotted a few steps toward the door, then once again looked over its shoulder at me.

I sucked in a deep breath and tried to get a grip on myself. The Erlking had said he’d send a charm. I guessed I was looking at it. He’d said the charm would lead me to him while keeping anyone from seeing me. If I was really planning to go through with our meeting, I would have to follow the creepy little statue.

“Hold on a minute,” I said, feeling ridiculous talking to what should be an inanimate object. “I’m not going out in my jammies.”

It cocked its head to the side, then nodded as if it understood. Maybe it did, but I wasn’t sure how long it would wait. As soon as I got out of bed and headed for my closet, it started the little tap-tap-tap routine again.

I was scared and creeped out, but I was still tired enough that I couldn’t stop myself from yawning hugely. I wondered if the Erlking had decided to lead me to him at this ungodly hour because he thought it would give him the edge in his negotiations. I also wondered if he might be right.