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“Oh, aye. I couldn’t get the cursed animal into the stable.

Thinks he’s too good to associate with the royal horses, much less the Wild Hunt horses, which are the finest in all faerie.

Whenever Evie tried to pop him into a nice, heated stall with oats and barley, he’d strike down the doors and give the staff a fine chase through the castle until he’d again found his way to our chambers.

Uncanny behavior that. We had little choice but to let him stay for now.

Evie gave him a fine talk about house manners, though.

Can no’ say if he understood her, but he gave every appearance of payin’ attention.

She was alarmed when he insisted on gettin’ close enough to Rhiannon to give her a good sniff.

Damndest thing. He nodded his head over and over like he was sayin’ he approved.

Evie says your workin’ theory might have merit.

The horse may think he belongs to the baby.

” The king chuckled. “Or the other way ‘round.”

“Well, if Rhiannon wants him, she can keep him,” I mused. “And, if you ask me, even with the lack of housetraining, he makes a better gift than that blasted dragon.”

While Diarmuid was adding way too much sugar to his cup, I filled him in on the scant facts thus far established.

“All we know is that Esme was taken by two females with shaved heads, dressed like Buddhist nuns in saffron robes.” I let my voice trail off, knowing that the rest was fashion minutia. But it needed to be said, even if no one else thought it relevant. “Saffron robes with baby pink panels.”

“Baby pink, like for girl babies?” Diarmuid asked.

“Well, it does sound like a coincidence, but I don’t think Esme’s abduction is related to Rhiannon. If that’s what you were thinking.” The king shrugged. “It was a good thought, though.”

I dialed Olivia, but got no answer. I tried Fie.

“Magistrate. What a nice surprise to get a call in the middle of the night,” he said. It was a polite way of leaving no room for doubt that he’d prefer daytime phone calls.

“Fie. I’m looking for Olivia. Well, actually, I need to get hold of Dolan, but he doesn’t have a phone.”

“I believe I can relay a message to Olivia. What does Dolan need to know?”

“The horse that was in The Hallows’ display window isn’t there anymore. I don’t know if that means the window is broken or not because I’m still at John David’s. But perhaps someone needs to see to it?”

What a marvel it was to live in a place where people don’t question such things. Without missing a beat, he said, “Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Mayor. I owe you one.” I’d paused for no longer than a millisecond before remembering that, as magistrate, I’m ethically and procedurally obligated to avoid favors. Uh-oh. “Wait. I didn’t mean that.”

He chuckled, said, “I know,” and ended the call.

I rose to pour myself a coffee, wishing I had one of Evie’s special Americanos. As I gripped the handle of the silver pot, Jarvis appeared like magic.

“Allow me, madam,” he said.

I took my cup, sat, and looked around at the small gathering: Keir, Kagan, John David, Diarmuid, Jarvis, and me. Since no one seemed to have anything constructive to offer, I decided to jump in.

“I need to reach Max.”

“Maxfield Pteron?” Diarmuid asked.

“Yes. He has direct connections with people who might know something.”

“Aye,” Diarmuid said. “’Tis true.”

“Who knows how to reach him?”

“Lochlan,” Keir said.

“Of course,” I said. “I don’t like the idea of disturbing people in the middle of the night. But it’s Esme.”

Kagan released the hair he’d been trying to pull out by the roots and got to his feet. “I’ve no issue with wakin’ the bloody blaggard.”

Like most males, he functioned best with something to do, but Keir reached out to stop him. “Let Rita see if she can raise the clerk by phone. If not, I’ll go. We’ve been acquainted for a long time at work, and now as neighbors. He’ll take a late-night visit better coming from me.”

Kagan didn’t argue, but took up pacing in the back of the room. It was a vast improvement over hairpulling.

I was both surprised and relieved when Lochlan answered my call. He sounded sleepy. Given the lateness of the hour that was to be expected. Even magic kind like to check out once a cycle.

“Magistrate?” he said with a thick tongue in need of hydration.

“Lochlan. I know it’s late, but we have a situation.”

I did a fairly good job of condensing events, if I do say so myself.

“I see.” During my retelling of events, he’d come considerably more awake. “Contacting the Bureau’s chief representative isn’t normally done on a moment’s notice. But I’ll certainly try. Poor Esme.”

“You know as well as I that she’d object to being referred to as ‘poor Esme’.”

“Indeed. We’re all fond of her eccentricities.”

Kagan, who apparently could hear both sides of the conversation without benefit of amplification, stopped his pacing to say, “What eccentricities?”

No one bothered to answer. I’m sure our silent, but collective response was to think that love truly is blind. At least that answered my question about Keir hearing both sides of a cell phone convo.

While I still had Lochlan on the phone, I said, “Just on the off chance that he’s available and wants to get in touch… I’m still at John David’s.”

“Well. Let’s manage expectations,” Lochlan cautioned.

“Yes. Right. Well. Before you go, any other suggestions? We’re brainstorming.”

We hadn’t really been brainstorming, but I’d been about to suggest it.

“If I think of something else…”

“Thanks, Lochlan.” I was about to end the call, but… “WAIT!”

“Yes?”

“The people who took her… I know I don’t have much in the way of description, but bald, saffron-wearing women is somewhat descriptive. Ring any bells?” He didn’t answer immediately. “Anything at all?”

“I may’ve encountered a tale or two about something similar, but I wouldn’t venture to speculate at the moment.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my phone was snatched out of my hand. By Kagan.

“What do you know?” He demanded of Lochlan.

I watched as my phone was, in turn, snatched out of Kagan’s hand by Keir. “Sorry, old man. My brother is especially fond of Esmerelda and not himself.”

When Kagan attempted to reclaim my phone, the two sephalia quickly shed all semblance of civility.

Within seconds, they’d taken to the ground and ended up wrestling on John David’s priceless Venetian carpet like kids.

In the midst of that spectacle, Keir managed to toss the phone in my direction.

Thankfully, the reflexes developed playing junior high softball kicked in, and I caught it.

“Lochlan?”

“Yes.”

“Let us know if you feel moved to speculate. Meanwhile, I’ll let you get on with running Max down.”

“You know you really shouldn’t refer to the Bureau’s lead counsel so casually. People might suspect bias.”

“You’re right. Not the best time for lectures though.”

“Right you are. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Even though I’d taken possession of my phone and had no intention of relinquishing it anytime soon, Keir and Kagan were still wrestling on the floor.

There’s no sugarcoating the fact that both of them had sacrificed all semblance of dignity.

Still, I suspected that Keir was using the opportunity for Kagan to vent physically.

Though it might not appear so at the moment, Keir is one smart sephalian.

Nodding his head toward the best two out of three falls taking place at our feet, Diarmuid said, “Do you want me to, em…?”

Glancing down at the pair of wrestlers, my eyes flew wide in horror when I happened to catch Kagan trying to take a bite out of Keir’s thigh. I bit my tongue, but wanted to say out loud what I was thinking which was, Stop that! I need that thigh in working condition!

Desperately hoping nobody saw that but me, I shook my head in reply to Diarmuid.

I won the son-in-law lottery when I got Diarmuid.

He really was a great guy who, thankfully, got all his genes from his father.

Though he was the mighty king of Irish fae, he was no match for a sephalian.

Much less two. His mother had designed them to be practically invincible.

“Thanks, Diarmuid. But no. Let’s give the children time to work off some excess energy.” I’d like to think that if Keir and Kagan could see themselves objectively they’d be mortified. But I feared not.

Diarmuid shrugged, then chugged his coffee heroically. To watch, no one would guess it was ninety percent sugar and ten percent java.

An occasion to hear John David’s doorbell had never before presented itself.

And I admit that I went into what must’ve looked like a comedic fight or flight when it “rang”.

I jumped, perhaps as much as three inches off the chair where I was seated.

It sounded like the London Philharmonic was in the living room playing “God Save the King”.

The good news was that it was startling enough to cause Keir and Kagan to stop and take a breath.

“Good grief, John David!” I said. “I can’t decide which best describes that experience. Too loud, pretentious, or ostentatious.”

There was no time for the vampire to reply to my utterly rude accusation before Jarvis entered with Max close behind.

“The magistrate has a visitor, sir,” Jarvis announced.

Not one to overlook the needs of guests, John David played host without missing a beat. “Mr. Pteron, come in. Please help yourself to coffee or tea service. If you’re hungry, we still have fresh offerings from dinner earlier.”

Max held up his hand. “Very kind. Just tea. With cream, please.”

“Max,” I began, but remembered Lochlan’s admonishment. “I mean, um, Counselor Pteron, did my clerk fill you in?”

“I believe so.”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to get your input on how to proceed. Do you know who the kidnappers are? And, I guess most importantly, how can we get Esme back?”