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Despite Roger’s secret attempt to curse the café’s first birthday party, the final thirty minutes went off without a hitch. There was cake. Kids drank lemonade. Gifts were opened. No rodents met their gruesome end by tooth or claw.

And, most importantly, it ended.

After Andi had wrapped her arms around my waist, squeezed, and said, “That was the best party ever,” and Julia told me she was thrilled with how everything had gone—despite the cool look she gave my apron—I walked them to the door, locking up once they had gotten into their car.

I could not deal with one more hiccup. Not even a small one. The café was going to be closed for the rest of the day so I could decompress and also work on packing up that glitter bomb for Roger.

I traipsed back into the cat area and collapsed on the couch near the rat cage, stretching my legs out in front of me. Horst had hung back when I led the kids to the café for cake and presents, and he remained in front of the rat cage, studying the lock closely.

“How did this door end up open?” he asked.

The cats drifted in, clearly optimistic about persuading me to open the last of the treats. “I don’t know,” I said, petting little Cecil, a one-eyed cat with a stumpy tail. “I assume one of the kids opened it without understanding why it was closed.”

“But it was locked,” Horst pointed out.

“Maybe I forgot to lock it.”

He turned and leveled his honeyed gaze at me. “You? Glory O’Bryan, you double-check every lock you come across.” He jabbed one finger toward the lock. “I guarantee you didn’t forget to lock this before a group of kids came through.”

I tried to suppress the feeling of unease that ran through me. “But I was distracted. My princess showed up sick, so I had to find an emergency replacement.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Resourceful. Who’d you rope into that?”

“Ah, puppy. You made it. I was afraid you might miss the party.”

I looked up to see Quill had managed to once again sneak up on us.

She’d changed back into her own silvery blue dress and removed the wig and tiara, although she still had traces of cream blush on her cheeks and her pale eyes looked even paler thanks to a thick coating of mascara on her spidery lashes.

Oomy slipped back into Horst’s shirt pocket, tucking herself away as the color drained from his face. “Glory O’Bryan,” he said, “tell me you didn’t ask Quill to play a princess at a kids’ party.”

I got to my feet. “I know it seems like a terrible idea, but it turned out really well. She was actually a fantastic princess.”

Quill’s small face glowed. “Do you hear that, puppy? I was fantastic.”

But Horst didn’t look like he was happy for me. “You asked Quill for a favor?”

“She was the only one here,” I said, starting to get annoyed. “And she agreed to do it.”

“I was very obliging.” Quill slipped past me to plop down on the couch. The cats who’d been so interested in seeing if I had any more treats quickly retreated to the other rooms.

Horst grabbed my elbow and pulled me after them. “You can’t ask for favors from Quill,” he said in a low voice, darting glances over my head as if to ensure that the Unseelie queen hadn’t followed us.

“Why not?”

“Because now you owe her something. You can’t ask the fae for favors.”

It struck me that Horst was also fae, bound by the same laws that Quill was. “I asked you for a favor and you didn’t warn me not to do that.”

“Yes, because the things I’ll ask of you in return are things like blowjobs or dressing up like Mimi from the Drew Carey Show in bed. I won’t—”

“Hold on.” I held up one hand. “Mimi?”

He froze. “This is a judgment-free zone,” he said stiffly.

“Sure, sure.” I laced my fingers together in front of me. “But how big is this zone? Can I walk to the door over there and make fun of you? Because I really, really want to.”

He threw his hands up. “Hey, I like her eyeshadow and her confidence.” Then he shook his head. “But that’s not the point. The point is that now you owe Quill a favor, and she’s going to collect. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. And you’re obligated to do what she asks.”

I moved past him, walking through the doorway until I could see Quill perched on the couch, swinging her legs back and forth and humming a jaunty little tune to herself. She reminded me more of the kids from the birthday party than some villainous creature I should be afraid of.

“What could she possibly ask of me that would be so terrible?” I asked Horst quietly.

“Don’t let her fool you—she’s capable of terrible things. You never, ever ask a favor of Quill. I would rather die than owe her something.”

At that moment, the Unseelie queen turned her head and smiled at us, revealing a mouthful of pointy teeth. “I’m sorry you don’t find me helpful, puppy,” she said. Then, in a singsong voice, she added, “But you will soon.”

Horst brought his hands to his hips. “If she was here, that explains how the rats wound up loose. It would be easy for a member of the fae to get that lock open while you weren’t paying attention.”

That made Quill laugh. “Oh, puppy. Do you think I would stoop to simple pranks? No, this was not my doing. Though you’re right about one thing—it is easy for the fae to get locks open.”

I wasn’t sure what exactly did it, but everything about Horst’s demeanor changed.

What sparkle remained in his eyes through our conversation about Quill faded away as he hunched his shoulders forward, his hands closing into fists at his sides.

Something passed between him and Quill, some kind of fairy communication that was, as a bystander, kind of annoying.

Finally, he said, “Why are you here, Quill?”

She leaned back against the cushions, stretching her arms out along the back of the couch. “You know why.”

It appeared he did because, without taking his eyes from Quill, he said, “Glory, I want you to head over to the Enchanted Forest.”

I blinked. He was kicking me out of my own café? “What—?”

“Now.”

I’d never heard his voice so harsh before, and a chill washed over me. I wished he would tell me what was going on.

Hell, I wished he would even look at me.

But he refused to meet my eyes.

It was Quill who finally broke the silence.

“I fear, puppy, that you are already too late.”

Horst shook his head. “No, I can—”

“She’s right, Piper,” a deep voice said from the door to the café. “You’re out of time.”