She shucked off her shirt, slipped on a vertical shoulder holster, adjusted it, and then slipped one of the remaining blessed blades—an eight-inch partially serrated tanto blade—into the sheath that now rested on her side.

“Hold still.” Tish straightened the holster straps. “Take it all. I’ll get Iri to restock for us.”

Ani nodded. Then she grabbed a punch knife, iron filings compressed in a pepper-spray-style container, and a spring billy. She shoved them all into her bag with her clothes. No amount of weapons would give her the strength to overcome Bananach, but overaccessorizing wasn’t a bad idea when planning a road trip. And Bananach isn’t the only trouble out there. The thought of hostile solitaries, of Ly Ergs, of being alone without the Dark Court’s protection made Ani pause—but the thought of endangering her family by remaining in town outweighed any hesitation. She grabbed a bang stick.

Tish absently folded and unfolded her hands. Her nerves were getting more unsettled, but she didn’t want to add to Ani’s stress. She never did. Her emotions said everything her words didn’t. She was afraid—but so was Ani.

And neither of us need to talk about that.

The smile Tish offered was proof that she understood the impossibility of discussing those truths. Even more telling were her words: “Dad’s going to be furious once he catches you.”

“Who says he’ll catch me? He’s not the only one with a steed now.” The thought of Gabriel hearing about her steed was all that made her happy just then. He’ll be proud. She turned her back and, softly, whispered, “Love you.”

Tish grabbed her and held on as tightly as she could. “Be careful. Please?”

“You too.” Ani held her sister just as fiercely.

Tish squeezed her harder, and then stepped back.

Together, they popped the lock and hefted the window.

With her bag slung over her shoulder, Ani climbed out and to the street. Tish dropped the bang stick to her and then closed the window carefully. The curtains fell over the window, and Tish was gone.

Ani was halfway down the block within a breath of her feet touching the sidewalk. This is for the best. She knew that—especially as she wasn’t a block from the shop before she was being followed again.

Without changing her stride, she headed toward a side street that would put her near where the Barracuda was parked. Calmly, she made her way toward the steed.

Can you hear me? She thought of the car, imagined the thrill of driving with it, and the warmth of its hood when she’d walked away. Are you awake?

Yes, but this would be easier if I had a name, Ani. Its voice had the same vibrating hum as its engine did. I thought on it. I lack a name. Being a Steed With A Rider means I get a name. It rumbled the words inside her mind. It is important to be Named.

Okay, but right now? Not the best time, she thought back.

Soon, it said.

She dropped her duffle, reached down, and slid a sgian dubh from its ankle holster. Then she turned around so she was facing her pursuer—and faltered. The faery from the Crow’s Nest who’d kissed her and tasted her blood stood in the street.

“It’s you,” she said.

“It is.”

You should not speak to this one, Ani, her steed rumbled. Ani felt it ease up behind her. Right now, it was a Hummer, oversized and bulky, looking like far more steel than most any faery could stand. Being a creature not a machine, there was no actual metal, but the illusion was convincing. It should be frightening.

Pretty Boy in front of her wasn’t shying away though.

She didn’t move any closer. “I thought you left.”

“I did.” He watched her with the same unflinching stare as at the club.

She shivered. Part of her wanted to ask if he’d tracked her, but another part of her preferred not knowing. “Do you know who I am?”

He gave her a thorough looking-over. “The faery from the club… or should I know something else about you?”

She straightened her shoulders and stared at him. It certainly wasn’t a hardship to do so. “You were following me.”

“Yes. Are you going to run?”

“Should I?”

“No.” He walked past her, turning into a narrower alley that was heavy with shadows. “You should come with me.”

She hoped that he’d followed because of their kiss, but she wasn’t a fool. Everyone wanted to curry favor with Gabriel, or Irial, or Niall: he was likely here because of politics.

Or because of Bananach.

“Did… War send you here?” she asked, rather than following him.

He paused and glanced back. “No one sent me. I am here for my own interests.”

She shivered. “Interest in what?”

“You,” the faery said, his voice a whisper from within the shadows.

Ani stepped into the mouth of the alley.

He’s not prey, her steed muttered.

Just a little fun, a little nourishment before we leave, Ani told her steed. I won’t kill him… unless I need to.

The temptation to not tell the faery who she was warred with her inherent sense of good sportsmanship.

“I’m not solitary,” she hedged.

He held his body with such easy grace—no tension, but awareness of her every move. She’d watched his reactions as she stepped closer. He tracked her like one accustomed to fighting.

“I know that.” He almost smiled; one corner of his mouth quirked up. It wasn’t Dark Court cruel, High Court bland, or Summer Court sweet.