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Furious, I took off after him, plunging back into the melee of the marketplace at the same spot where he’d disappeared. I paused for a split second, scouring the mass of people for the kidnapper. Then, up ahead, I saw familiar dark curls bouncing as a man raced through the throngs, weaving and twisting through the now-disgruntled shoppers. Only the guilty run…

Or those pursuing justice. I broke into a sprint, chasing him through the crowded aisles, shouting back apologies to the people I bumped into. There was no way I was going to let him escape again. Digging deep for the running stamina I knew I had in me somewhere, I kept my eyes on my quarry. My feet had never felt so light as I raced along, feinting around browsers and ducking beneath awnings, following every sharp turn my kidnapper took through the labyrinth of the market. I had no idea what I would do with him once I caught up, but I could cross that bridge when I came to it. One thing was for sure: it would start with a swift kick to the crown jewels.

Darting down a narrow path to the right, I lost sight of him. I slowed my pace to a jog, listening for any unusual sound that might reveal his location. He had to be here somewhere. I’d just seen him come this way, and people didn’t just disappear. The front of the stalls had given way to a storage area, with crates and carts and boxes piled high. The perfect place for a coward to hide.

Halfway down the row, I heard a thud as something fell to my left. Whirling around, I squinted into the gloom behind one of the stalls, where fresh produce lay in wait for a restock. Slowly, I crept toward the shadows, certain he had to be lurking somewhere within. If only I had glanced back—just once—I would’ve seen that the shadow I was looking for was behind me.

Before I had the chance to scream, a strong arm circled my waist and yanked me backward while a hand slithered over my mouth. I tried to bite down, only to get a mouthful of fabric soaked in something sweet. I smelled the sweetness, too, like almonds or marzipan. I tried to fight back, struggling to get a proper breath through the doused material.

The world went hazy, dark spots dancing in my field of vision. I attempted to blink them away, but that only invited more to the party. A few seconds later, my eyelids grew heavy, my breaths slowed, and my limbs felt carved out of lead.

I tried to call for help, but the words didn’t come.I was losing consciousness, and there was nothing I could do about it.

* * *

I awoke, disoriented and foggy, to unfamiliar surroundings. Chintzy wallpaper and throwback upholstery, in garish, clashing patterns made me want to squeeze my eyes shut again. My hands were tied in front of me. A musty scent filled the air, a smell a million miles away from the delicious aromas of the marketplace. Glancing over at the nearest window, I saw the backend of a trailer and realized I must be inside one. I’d seen a few of them parked on the outskirts of the market—home to the sellers who made their living by traveling from food fair to food fair, through huge chalk-doors that could accommodate these bulky structures.

That means I’m still inside the market bubble. The thought comforted me, but only slightly. I knew who’d brought me here and, judging by our last two encounters, I sensed it wouldn’t be a friendly affair.

A spark of inspiration fired in my skull as I pulled myself up to a sitting position. I took in the eyesore of a sofa that I was seated on, which felt sticky to the touch. I didn’t even want to know what was responsible for that. Instead, I patted frantically at my pockets, searching for my phone. By now, Nathan would be wondering where I’d gotten to. I knew he might even sound the alarm if he went to the jewelry stall and found me missing. But I wasn’t sure if I had the luxury of waiting that long, considering who’d snatched me for the second time. Still, if I could just call him, maybe I’d get out of this unscathed.

“Ye needn’t bother. I’ve got yer phone.” A figure stepped into the light. My kidnapper, again devoid of a bandana. Up close, I could see that he had a more youthful face than I’d first thought, despite the five o’clock shadow around his jaw. He seemed taller, too, without shadows distorting his shape, and as he came nearer, I noticed that his eyes were actually a warm shade of umber—not nearly as dark as I’d thought—while his hair reflected copper when the anemic lightbulb hit his hair at the right angle. He was what I would’ve described as ruggedly masculine, and though a lot of women might have gone gaga over him, it didn’t matter to me how good-looking he was—I couldn’t stand the sight of him.

“Looks like you’ve picked up some new kidnapping skills since last time,” I pointed out, itching to punch him in the face again. He still bore some of the bruises and scrapes of our last encounter, with a particularly angry shiner over his right eye. Annoyingly, it only made him look more rugged and handsome.

He sighed and sank onto the opposite sofa, keeping one eye on the door. “I know I’m askin’ somethin’ I’ve no right te, but can we start over? I didn’t swipe ye this time te cause any harm. I just want ye te listen, and I knew ye wouldn’t if I just walked up te ye and started chattin’.” I drew in a shaky breath. “I really didn’t mean te hurt yer friend. If I could take it back, I would.”

“You killed someone! Do you think you can just apologize for that?” I spat. Genie might have been brought back to life by the grace of Nathan, but this guy didn’t deserve to know that. I wanted him to sit with what he’d done and stew over it.

He put his head in his hands, scratching restlessly at his curls. “Ye think that hasn’t kept me up every night since? Ye think I haven’t seen her face every wakin’ minute, knowin’ she suffered because of me? I know what this curse made me do, and I hate it.” He peered up at me. “I hurt a lass, and it’s tearin’ me insides up. I know I can’t make it better, and I know I can’t apologize for it, but… I just wanted ye te hear me out. I wanted ye te know that I didn’t mean te, and I want te rip this curse out for what it’s doin’ te people.” He brushed his cheek aggressively, and I saw tears clinging to his finger. His voice was tight with misery.

No! I will not feel a shred of sympathy for this man! He killed my friend! This was precisely why good-looking people got lesser sentences in court. Handsome guys and beautiful girls made people believe they had some redeeming qualities, to match their exterior. Ironically, it was Davin Doncaster who’d taught me that the insides didn’t always match the outsides. I’d seen pictures of him and, sure, he was a looker, but he was also as evil and self-serving as they came.

“Oh, boohoo,” I snapped. “That must have sucked for you, while I was mourning my dead friend! If you’re looking for forgiveness, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

He flinched as though I’d hit him again. “I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. I ain’t stupid. I ain’t askin’ for it, either. I just want ye te know that I’m not this curse. I can’t control what happens when it strikes, and it’s drivin’ me insane. It ain’t just yer friend that suffered because of it. There are others… people who are close te me, and I don’t know what te do.” He turned his face away, chewing the inside of his cheek. “And I know I’m late in sayin’ this, but… ye were right, what ye said when I took ye the first time. I should’ve asked for yer help, person te person, instead of usin’ threats and violence. Believe it or not, I ain’t a violent person. It hurts te see what I’ve become. This curse has made me… desperate. This ain’t who I am.”

“And yet here I am, bound and kidnapped again.”

He nodded slowly. “I knew ye wouldn’t come voluntarily, so I had te resort te this. But I’m goin’ te set ye loose again soon, and I’ll give yer phone back and all.” He leaned forward, making me instinctively sink back into the velvet sofa. “I just need yer help, and I hope ye’ll agree. Not for me, but for the other people who are gettin’ hurt because of this curse.”

I had no idea what to say to that. Was this some sort of tactic to butter me up? He clearly knew that if he asked for help for himself, I would laugh in his face. Maybe this was just a trick to get me to help him.

But maybe he really meant it. After all, it was the same thing he’d said during my first kidnapping, before the incident with Genie had even taken place. And now I’d felt firsthand what that curse could do. The panic. The terror.

He shuffled closer, producing a switchblade from the pocket of his black jeans. The air rushed out of my lungs as he leaned in, the blade glinting in the light. Had he decided that I wouldn’t be a willing participant after all? And he’d have to resort to threats and violence again? Even if he claimed he wasn’t usually that sort of person.

“Here.” He tucked the blade under the ropes that bound my hands together and tugged upward, the ties coming loose. “I only tied ye up ‘cause I didn’t know if ye’d—” He didn’t get to finish the sentence as I lunged forward and socked him in the jaw. I grimaced at the impact, a splintering pain shooting up my arm from my already battered knuckles. I knew I wouldn’t be able to land another hit without injuring my hand further, but that one shot had felt unbelievably satisfying.

He massaged his jaw, wiggling it from side to side to make sure there wasn’t any proper damage. “I was goin’ te say, I only tied ye up ‘cause I didn’t know if ye’d punch me again. I deserved all of the blows ye landed the other day, so I ain’t goin’ te complain about it. If someone I cared about got hurt like that, there’d be nothin’ in this world that could stop me trying te punish whoever did it.”

I cradled my hand, urging the throbbing pain to go away. “I don’t know who you are or what you really want, but you can’t fool me. You can talk all you like; it doesn’t change what you did. You’re just lucky my hand is killing me, otherwise, there’d be more where that came from.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied with a pained smile. Still rubbing his jaw, he stood and wandered off into the trailer’s kitchenette. A moment later, he came back with a bag of frozen peas bundled in a kitsch tea towel that said, “What’s the only owl with boobs? A teet-owl.” He glanced down at it and made an apologetic face. “Sorry about the bad humor. It were the only one I could find, and I don’t want ye addin’ freezer burn to yer bruises.” He passed me the icy package, which I took reluctantly and laid over my hand.

“This doesn’t let you off any kind of hook,” I warned, unable to hide the sweet relief of the cold peas against my aching skin.

He nodded. “I don’t doubt that, either.” With a grunt that suggested he had some major bruises under his T-shirt, as well, he sank back down onto the sofa. “I’ll say it again, I hate what I did te yer friend. But the thing is, I stuck around after, hidin’ out of sight. Mostly, I wanted te make sure ye would be okay, even though that sounds mad. How could anyone be okay after their best friend had just taken a fatal blow, y’know? I saw ye in pain, and I wanted te see that, so I’d never forget the misery I created. Then… I saw that fella bring her back te life. It don’t change the wrong I did, but I know she ain’t dead no more. And I’m glad of that. For me own sake, sure, but also for yours.” He ran his hand through his hair and a dark curl fell across his forehead, bringing my attention to his eyes. They looked at me intently, filled with a sorrow I couldn’t begin to understand. Sorrow for Genie, perhaps, but there was a deeper and darker sadness in there, too.

Don’t! It’s a trap! My mom had told me to watch out for Irish charm, and I had a feeling this guy had his turned up to eleven. But it wouldn’t work on me. As he’d said, Genie was alive and kicking, but it was no thanks to him. Had we not had a secret Necromancer in our ranks, things would have been very different.

“Is yer friend all right?” he continued. “I haven’t seen so much as a glimpse of her since yer all disappeared through one of them magic doorways, but I’d like te know if she made it?”

I folded my arms across my chest, determined not to bring any relief to his guilt until he’d answered some of my questions. “What’s your endgame here, huh? Why are you following me? You keep saying you need my help, but you haven’t actually given me a reason to provide it. I mean, I don’t even know your freaking name. So, first things first, you’re going to talk, and then I’ll decide if I want to help you.” I waited, and he nodded tightly. “I want to know what this curse does to other people that’s got you so worried,” I continued. “You mentioned it was ‘infecting’ people—were you being metaphorical? And who are the witch hunters?”

He cocked his head to one side, scrutinizing me. “Me name’s Reid Darcy, so ye can start with that.” I couldn’t help but notice his lips as he spoke. They were nice—full and cherry red, with a precise cupid’s bow.

Not that I cared.

“And I’ve been under this curse for six months, ever since ye came te that witchy place. At first, it only caused bother now and again, but it’s gettin’ worse. I weren’t bein’ metaphorical when I said it’s infectin’ folks like me. Non-witchy folks. It’s turnin’ them into what I am, and I don’t know how te stop it spreadin’ further. That’s why I need yer help, ‘cause ye’ve got magic, and I hope ye’ll have a better idea than I do about how te fix this before ye’ve got a horde of these fear dogs on yer hands.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s Fear Dearg.”

“Right, aye, I forgot.” He twisted a silver ring on the index finger of his left hand. I’d seen the design before, pinned to the lapel of a hunter. It was a claddagh, with two hands circling to cradle a crowned heart. He wore his with the point of the heart facing outward, which meant he wasn’t “attached,” so to speak. Again, not that I remotely cared whether he was or not. Frankly, considering his twinkly eyes and mysterious good looks, which thrummed with sex appeal, he probably flipped that emblem back and forth, week in, week out.

“What about my other questions?” I prompted. This entire situation felt distinctly different from the dank and foul confines of our last discussion. He’d been the one holding the reins then, but now… I had more control. All his bluster had vanished, replaced with palpable fear, and a mournful regret visible all over his face. He certainly appeared to be less intimidating this time, and he hadn’t brought any jumper cables. Not that I could see, anyway.

He focused on his ring. “I’m followin’ ye because ye might be me only hope. As for me endgame…” He trailed off, his shoulders sagging. “I don’t want anyone else goin’ through what I’ve been through. And I don’t want to be lashin’ out and killin’ people, neither. That’s why I’m askin’ now, like ye suggested. I ain’t commandin’ and I ain’t interrogatin’ anymore, and it were wrong of me te do that in the first place.” He exhaled a breath that seemed to rattle through every inch of him, whispering with despair. “No, I ain’t askin’… I’m pleadin’ with ye te help me, ‘cause I’m at a dead end here.”

I considered him. His body language was that of a man at the end of his rope: his hands twisting around each other, wrung in a fraught prayer. I tried to think of something to say, but the words wouldn’t come. He’d done wrong, yes, but he clearly needed help.

And what would I do with that information?I had no clue whatsoever.