The drive to Pleasant Hill seemed to take forever. Quentin sat in the passenger seat glowering and refusing to look at me, while Spike had decided to ride in my lap rather than in its usual spot on the dashboard. I don’t know whether it was trying to comfort me or be comforted, but between that and my skirt, it was pretty hard to shift. My thoughts kept creeping back to Karen. I wanted to believe she’d wake up on her own. Somehow, I just couldn’t.

Especially, said a nagging voice at the back of my mind, if Quentin’s girlfriend and the Cait Sidhe kids vanished the same way Andy and Jessica did. I shivered. Something was starting that I didn’t like at all and, by the root and branch, I didn’t see any way to stay out of it.

The sun was descending into afternoon as we pulled into the parking lot at Paso Nogal. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Quentin looked at me solemnly. “Please change your mind. I want to help.”

“I’m not getting you hurt again. Now get out of the car.”

Quentin glared but opened his door, obviously intending to stalk away. One problem: I didn’t trust him to actually stalk back into the knowe. I got out of the car and walked around the car to meet him, offering a sunny smile as I grabbed his elbow.

“Let me walk you home.”

“That isn’t—” He tried to pull himself loose and scowled. “That isn’t necessary.”

“Funny thing is I think it is. Now come on.”

It was a good thing the park was basically empty, because anyone who saw our progression up the hill would have had good reason to call the police and report me for kidnapping. Quentin didn’t struggle, but he didn’t help, either; he just let himself be half led, half dragged through the complex series of steps that opens the door to Shadowed Hills. Completing the steps with him in tow took most of my attention. There was no way to keep my skirt from getting torn. I gave up trying after the third time it snagged on the hawthorn bushes. It wasn’t like I paid for the damn thing.

Quentin tried to jerk free again as the door into the knowe finally swung open. This time, I let him go. I wasn’t willing to let him risk his neck if I had any say in the matter, but there was no reason to embarrass him on top of everything else.

Spike darted past us as we stepped into the entrance hall, nearly sweeping me off my feet. Its ears were pressed flat against its head, and it was running fast enough that it was out of sight around the corner almost before I realized it was moving. Visions of its strange behavior at Mitch and Stacy’s place flashed through my mind. “Quentin, stay here!” I snapped, and took off after it.

It’s hard to get purchase on a marble floor while wearing sneakers. I careened around the corner in the direction Spike had gone, already stumbling as I pursued it into the next hall.

The hall was already occupied. Luna was sitting on a low velvet couch about twenty feet away, expression distant as she arranged dried roses in a vase atop a cherry-wood table. Spike raced ahead of me and jumped into her lap. She looked down at it for a moment before she raised her head, taking note of my approach. Twitching one silver-furred ear, she tucked her feet beneath her body, letting go of the vase.

“Hello, October,” she said mildly.

“Uh . . .” I tried to bow and stop running at the same time. The skirt snarled my legs, my feet slid out from under me, and I landed flat on my back.

Luna watched my descent, apparently unperturbed. It’s hard to fluster Luna. She’s a three-tailed Kitsune who voluntarily married into one of the most frustrating noble families I’ve ever dealt with. Someone like that is either crazy or patient as a rock. I sometimes suspect that Luna might be both.

She waited for me to slide to a stop before asking calmly, “New dress?”

“Lily,” I said, by way of explanation. Sitting up, I rubbed the back of my head with one hand. “Well, that was a little overdramatic.”

“But funny, which forgives many sins.” She stood, cradling Spike against her chest. “The return of Quentin is appreciated. He’ll need to be spoken to, of course. I’m sure Etienne will cherish the opportunity.”

“Better him than me.”

Luna laughed, offering her hand. “Come on. Sylvester will want to speak with you.”

“I do so love meeting with my liege when I’m dressed like an idiot and just concussed myself on the floor,” I grumbled, letting her pull me up. “Still, that’s a good thing, because I want to speak with him, too.”

Her laughter died, taking the light in her eyes with it. “I rather thought you might,” she said, quietly. “I’d hoped that someone else would . . . but it’s no matter. Come along.”

Still holding Spike against her chest, she turned and walked away down the hall, clearly trusting me to follow. Perplexed by her change in moods, I did exactly that. Sylvester needed to know what was going on.

SEVEN

SHADOWED HILLS IS THE BIGGEST KNOWE I’ve ever seen and it’s easy to get lost there. I’m not sure whether it actually rearranges itself when no one’s looking, but I wouldn’t be surprised. After all, we’re talking about a sprawling Summerlands estate large enough to hold Sylvester, Luna, their daughter and her husband, their fosters, the staff, an entire Court, and all of Luna’s gardens. It’s a wonder the place isn’t bigger than it is.

Luna led me down the hall into a room with walls made of falling water. She didn’t say a word, cradling Spike against her chest and looking fixedly ahead, like she was afraid her head would fall off if she turned it. Even Spike seemed subdued, lying passively in her arms with its head down and its thorns slicked flat against its back. That didn’t strike me as a good sign.

“Luna . . . ?”

“Please, October.” She glanced back over her shoulder, expression pained. “Just give me a moment. Please. Everything will be explained.”

That answer just worried me more. Still, I quieted, following her out of the waterfall room and into a vast hall filled with darkness. There was no visible floor. Doors hung suspended in the air, scattered with no regard for where the room’s walls might have logically fallen. Luna walked to the nearest door, opened it, and stepped through, vanishing into the nothingness on the other side. Swell. I swear, if anything will eventually condemn Faerie to becoming nothing but a world of fantasy and kitsch, it’s the pureblood obsession with special effects. Hoisting my skirt around my knees, I followed her.