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He stood too close, within striking distance, making her aware of his size. Funny… at her house, in the car, standing alongside him on the sidewalk, the obvious signs of his strength hadn’t bothered her. She’d barely noticed. Under threat, however, all she saw was the wide set of his shoulders, the enormous curve of his black wings, the hugeness of his hands. He could kill her without breaking a sweat.

It wouldn’t take much.

Just a flick of his wrist, and she’d be dead at his feet. A broken neck. A snapped spine. A fractured skull. Anything was a possibility. Which made the idea of running look more attractive by the second.

She shifted sideways, sliding along the wall.

Westvane hemmed her in, leaving no room for escape. “I gave you my word, Truly.”

“I remember.” And she did. The problem was, could she trust it?

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. My word stands.”

“Right,” she said, starting to sweat. “We leave now and the Wendigo goes unchecked. We can’t —”

“Sure we can,” Montrose said, his bias showing. “Who gives a shit about this place?”

“I do! Along with the people in it.” The snap in her voice bounced around the shop. What sounded like a heavy truck rumbled up to and stop just outside the front door. Trying to ignore the likelihood of imminent attack, she scowled at her boss. “They don’t deserve to die just because you’re pissed off that you haven’t been able to go home, Rosy.”

“Shame,” he murmured.

Westvane sighed. “We’ll come back right after.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, still scowling at Montrose.

Montrose shrugged. “You open a door. We walk through it into Azlandia. You open another, you and Westvane circle back into the city from a different location. Hunt the Wendigo from there.”

“Oh, really?” She had to give him credit. Her snotty tone didn’t faze him. “That easy?”

“You’re a Door Master, Triple,” Montrose said, attitude just as snarly as hers. “So yeah, that simple.”

Truly swallowed. “But the queen and her guard are there.”

Understanding dawned in Westvane’s eyes. “There and gone, Truly. She’ll know we landed. Your magic is powerful. The ripple effect of your presence won’t go unnoticed, but Lyonesse won’t be able to pinpoint our location that fast. Before she does, we’ll already be moving back through theEcotoneinto Earth Realm.”

“And those guys?” She pointed toward the front door.

“The Yeomanry?”

“Is that what they’re called?”

“Yes.” His expression sharpened, taking on lethal edges. “Don’t worry about them. I’ll deal with the Yeomanry once we’re back.”

“Who are they?” she asked.

“The queen has allies on this side of theEcotone,” Montrose murmured. “The Yeomanry are one of them, a human militia. They have existed for centuries. Their hatred of magic folk is absolute. Their sole purpose is to hunt and kill us. You’ve heard of the Salem witch trials?”

“Of course.”

A muscle twitched along Montrose’s jaw. “Orchestrated by the Yeomanry.”

“Zealots.”

“Fanatics lead by a charismatic sociopath. That is who stands outside.” The fur on his snout twitched, making him look like a feral, oversized bat. “You’re one of us, Triple, the most powerful of our kind. I understand your fear, but stalling is no longer safe. Let Westvane help. Let him spark you. The sooner we’re through a door and out the other side, the better.”

Freaking Montrose. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he knew her well.

Shewasstalling. Putting off the evitable. Looking for a way out, instead of finding the way through. She kept telling herself she needed more time to prepare, but that was a lie. Nothing and no one could prepare her for what was to come. Maybe her mother might have done, but…