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I trail off. It’s a strange thing to say aloud. Everyone knows that, once turned, witches lose access to their magic. It is why so few of them become vampires.

Maurice gives me a sidelong look. “Use magic?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.” He huffs as though I am being the foolish one in this situation. “I already told you I could.”

“Because you’re part of the Hunt?”

“I suppose.”

I frown, but he pauses again, this time looking at the entrance to a small pub. The Goodfellow, the sign above the door reads. I hear heartbeats within, but I am not especially useful at picking out species without looking at them.

Maurice heaves a sigh and turns to me.

“Listen,” he says, “I am only bringing you along because it seems the easiest way to keep you safe. So in the interest of that… I need you to remain calm, no matter what you see or hear.”

“All right.”

“I mean it. If you show even a hint of weakness, they’ll be all over you. If they realise there’s something you don’t know, they’ll use that to their advantage.”

“We’re meeting more fae?”

“Yes. Contacts, apparently, so I can’t just kill them.”

“Because that is something you do.”

Maurice narrows his eyes. “Yes.”

“Very well.”

He stares at me for a long time, and when I say nothing else, he sighs again. “Come along, then. Let’s get this over with.”

I follow him into the pub, where the air is hazy.

It cannot be from smoke, and from the way Maurice’s gaze darts back to me, I suspect that, instead, magic is involved.

I spot a pair of humans and a lone werewolf, but the other people in here—and there are not many of them—appear to all be fae, including the woman standing behind the bar.

She glares at Maurice when he approaches. “You are not welcome here.”

“Funny, that,” Maurice replies sardonically. “Vlad seems to be.”

Her expression softens but only a little. “He prefers to live and let live.”

“So do I.”

“That’s not what I heard,” another fae says. He’s sitting further down the bar, perched on one of the stools. And I mean perched . He must only be five and a half feet tall, and I don’t know what he’s wearing beneath it, but he’s covered from neck to toe in a white fur coat.

“Fucking selkies,” Maurice mutters. Is it supposed to be under his breath? The fae raises an eyebrow in response—he definitely heard.

“And here I thought you might be here to see me ,” the fae replies. “Vlad has far better manners.”

“You’re Reijo?”

“Of course.” Reijo closes his hand around his glass and takes a sip. His eyes never leave Maurice. They’re terribly dark, watchful as though he can see right through both of us.

“There is a matter I need to speak with you about.”

“Here? Now?” Reijo looks pointedly around the room. His teeth flash against his dark skin when he gives Maurice a not-at-all-friendly smile. “You have no head for discretion, then.”

Maurice growls again. How does he get anything done at all, when he seems to have so much trouble with these fae?

Well, I know how. He seems to kill them—but this doesn’t seem like the place to use that as a good solution.

Even though he’s told me to be silent and not give anything away, I can’t help myself. I need to help him. “Is there somewhere private that we can talk?”

Reijo looks at me as though he is only just noticing I am there at all, although I doubt that is the case. His eyes sweep me from head to toe, and now his smile is almost gleeful when he looks at Maurice again.

“Really?”

“Not here,” Maurice growls. He is furious, I can tell. “Can we talk?”

“Why not?” Reijo says and slides gracefully from the stool. He’s wearing strappy heels, I see when he stands, and I was right about his height—he’s much shorter than either of us. “Let’s take this outside, shall we?”

The bartender eyes us warily, but I follow Reijo when Maurice signals for me to move. I don’t like turning my back on anyone in this pub. Still, we make it outside without incident and walk silently down the street, to the corner.

It is unusually quiet, not a soul outside save for us. Maurice crosses his arms over his chest when Reijo stops. “Well, hunter?” Reijo asks, voice cooler than it was in the pub. “What do you want?”

“I want to know why so many fae are crossing over,” Maurice says.

Reijo looks at him with a puzzled frown. “Why would they not?”

“No, not like this. You know something else is going on. Why are they all coming here ? Modern cities are no good for you.”

“I don’t know,” Reijo says with an elegant shrug. “I find I thrive in places like this.”

“Maybe you do.”

Reijo studies his face, then mine. “What happened?”

“We…” Maurice blows out a breath. “We were attacked last night.”

“By fae?”

“By a selkie and a dryad,” Maurice says. “Do you know her?”

“Who?”

“The selkie.”

“There are many of my kind I do not know. Do you know all vampires?”

It’s a reasonable answer, but Maurice’s eyes narrow. “Answer the question.”

“I do not know if I know the selkie who attacked you.” Reijo glares back at Maurice. He’s holding himself stiffly now, though, and tugs the front of his coat more tightly closed.

“You think you might,” Maurice says. “You can’t lie.”

“Everyone knows that about the fae.”

“So tell me—I met a selkie last night. She likes a pretty glamour; a white woman, with dark hair and a white streak through it. Her sealskin is brown and has that same streak. She—”

“Stop it,” Reijo all but spits. “I don’t know why she would attack you, but—”

“You do know her.”

Reijo shakes his head, but I get the impression he’s not denying the accusation. He can’t .

“She was with a dryad,” Maurice continues. “She drew me away, and the dryad tried to kill him.” He jerks his head in my direction, and Reijo looks at me for a second before he turns his attention back to Maurice.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” Reijo says. “I won’t.”

Maurice growls. He clenches a fist, and I can’t feel anything, but from the way Reijo’s eyes widen, I wonder if he’s pulling on the magic he somehow possesses.

“You will ,” he says.

Reijo still looks frightened, and I want to reassure him, want to try to de-escalate the situation, but I’m not sure how.

“Maurice,” I begin.

He throws out a hand, but Reijo is faster. Maybe I distracted him. Maybe Reijo is more prepared than he seems.

Whatever it is, pain judders through me, and I fall to my knees. Maurice whirls on me in an instant, Reijo all but forgotten, and I watch, vision hazy, as the selkie disappears into the night.