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Dylan set down his tea and spread his hands. “An Abrahamic angel gave it to St. Patrick when he was still a missionary. He told Patrick to use it to drive all the snakes out of Ireland. The creator of the thing wanted the Irish peasants to work in their fields safely. History says St. Patrick successfully drove all the serpents out of Ireland.”

I shrugged. “Everyone knows it happened, but few know the details of how it came about.”

Dylan shrugged too. “My family got involved after the deed was done. The Church with a capital C wanted to use the relic’s power. They promoted missionary Patrick to bishop as a reward. Later, when he died, they made Patrick a saint. One of his new bosses—I don’t know all their fancy titles—decided to rent the relic out and make some extra moola. The angel who guarded it instructed my great-grandfather to steal it and then charged him with keeping it safe. Before he died, my great-grandfather insisted we guard it until the angel returned for it. So that’s what we’ve done—until now.”

I snorted at how often humans betrayed their moral ideals for the sake of money. “Let me guess. It didn’t work for those that paid to rent it.”

Dylan made a gun sign with his finger and thumb, pointed it at me, and said, “Bang on.”

I rolled my eyes. “Holy relics made by angels are made sentient enough to choose those they want to serve. Ya can’t force them. I’ve experienced that personally.”

Dylan snorted. “So you’ve had run-ins with angels as well.”

I shook my head. “No, I’ve only worked with demons. My father was the one who worked with angels.” Or so I still believed. My daughter was probably going to end up working with angels as well, but that was information Dylan didn’t need to know.

“My team and I recently went after a troll animal breeder, who moonlighted as a troll shaman. His magickal creations were eating domestic pets which is why we had to go after him. He sent a giant snake out to fight us that turned into a hydra when I sliced off its head. More interesting was that it went after me specifically. Yer relic might have been used to alter the snake.”

Dylan stopped drumming his fingers. “This is worse than my parents thought.”

I nodded. “If it was the shamanistic animal breeder who used yer relic, it still might be among his things. We confiscated all the items in his lair when we collected him and his animals. Those are being held at the office I work out of for now. Once he’s been counseled and released—a process that takes several months—the items determined not to be stolen goods will be returned to him. Would ya like to come look for yer relic before that happens?”

Dylan stared at me. “Is this your tricky way of arresting me?”

I laughed. “Not today. Today, I just want answers. I will probably have to talk my temporary boss—a very powerful fairy—out of arresting ya, though, but we’ll cross that bridge when we have to.”

Dylan crossed his arms. “What happens if I refuse to directly help?”

I grinned as I shrugged. “Well, I suppose I would let ya leave my property and get a head start on running since I’m a good sport. Eventually, I’d track ya down and arrest ya for the bounty they’ve promised me. As ya can from these chairs, I need money to buy smaller furniture so my feet don’t dangle.”

Dylan chuckled at her story and sipped his tea.

“After I did all that, I would look for the relic among the troll’s things myself. If I found it, I would get Conn to lock it away in our storage facility until ya made restitution to the people who brought those charges against ya—rightful or not. If that relic wants to stay in yer family, I’ll not be the one moving it elsewhere. Once ya were released, I’d hand it over.”

“Those options aren’t actual choices,” Dylan said.

I finished my tea and set the empty cup back on the cart. “I told ya I was worse than ya heard. But I’m not completely unreasonable. It’s simply in yer best interests to help me and not become one more problem I have to solve.”

His resigned sigh was loud. “Fine, let’s do this then. I guess I should thank you for the tea.”

“Wait to make sure ya don’t drop dead before we leave the house. I don’t know what kind of demon my new caretaker is yet. Some of them hold a grudge when ya annoy them.”

Dylan smirked. “So next time, I should probably ring the gate console and wait to be let in.”

I laughed. “I can see ya’re one of the more intelligent members of yer kind.”

“I’m a Harvard graduate,” Dylan said, sliding from the chair. “So what now, Aran?”

I stood and stretched my limbs. I was still sore from my fight with the troll. “If my demon put a sleepy potion in our tea, I’m going to get pissed and use my sword on him. Let’s give it a good minute or two to see.”

Dylan snickered before finally laughing. “I’m not feeling sleepy. Do you mind if I change into my human form while we wait? It will prevent the looks that my shorter stature gets from most humans.”

“Whatever pleases ya,” I said.

Dylan slowly morphed into a six-foot-blonde male wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and a man-bun. Fiona would have melted at the sight of him. I was suddenly very glad she wasn’t around. I’d felt that a lot lately.

The far darrig’s human form also reminded me of a skinnier and less golden version of Orlin. I wouldn’t be telling him that story, though. I wanted to like him, but still didn’t trust him.

“Ya look very handsome as a human, Dylan. I bet ya get a lot of looks because of it.”