“Who are you?” he said.

“Turn around,” Ricky said.

As Ciro did, I circled him in case he went after Ricky.

Ciro’s forehead wrinkled. “Do I know you?”

Ricky walked farther into the moonlight. “Is that better?” Ciro’s expression said it wasn’t.

“You don’t know him?” I said.

Ciro shook his head slowly, his gaze fixed on Ricky.

“His photos were found in your condo,” I said. “Surveillance photos you’d taken.”

“Surveillance photos?”

“He’s Rick Gallagher,” I said, watching for any glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Of the Satan’s Saints.”

“Satan’s …?”

“You sent him a letter.”

“E-mail, you mean? I didn’t. If someone used my address—”

“And you don’t know me, either.”

He took a better look at me, and that’s when I got a glimmer of recognition, though the spark didn’t ignite.

“Olivia Taylor-Jones,” I said. “Also known as Eden Larsen.”

“Eden …” He stared at me. “You’re …”

“Daughter of serial killers. Well, at least you read the papers.”

“No, I mean you’re …” He swallowed. “Right. The papers. That’s where I’ve seen you.”

“Which isn’t what you were going to say at all,” Ricky said, advancing slowly. “I’ll ask you to finish that sentence.”

“I didn’t—”

“I’ll insist you finish that sentence.”

Ciro’s mouth worked. I got a better look at him then, this killer of fae. He wasn’t tall, maybe only an inch or so over my five-eight. Narrow face, thin build, hands at his sides, clenching into fists and then quickly unclenching, as if realizing the nervous gesture could be taken for an aggressive one.

As Ricky moved closer, Ciro seemed to fight the urge to run. His posture was downright submissive, gaze lowered, chin tucked down, like a little boy in the schoolyard, watching the bully bear down on him and fighting not to flinch.

“Here are a few more words for you,” I said. “Cŵn Annwn. Tylwyth Teg.”

His gaze shot to me. “You … you know? It’s true, then?” He blanched. “No, tell me it’s not true. Tell me I didn’t lose my opportunity …” He swayed, as if his knees were about to give way. “No, no, please. It’s not true. He lied. He must have lied. Otherwise … Lucy. Oh God, Lucy.”

“What’s not true?” Ricky said. “Something about Olivia?”

“Your parents,” Ciro said, talking to me. “The Cŵn Annwn fixed you because of what your parents did. Their crimes.”

I glanced at Ricky. His lips tightened, and he said, “Tell us what you heard.”

“That she—Eden—was sick. Dying. The Cŵn Annwn made her parents a deal. If they committed murders the Cŵn Annwn could not, they would be repaid with their daughter’s life. And they were. She—you—Eden died before all the lives were taken, but with the sacrifices, they were able to bring you back from the afterlife. The Cŵn Annwn returned you. That was the deal.”

“I didn’t …” I trailed off as the pieces clunked into place. “Lucy. He promised you Lucy.”

Ciro’s eyes closed and he swayed, face paling. “I didn’t have faith. I thought he was lying. When he first came to me, I was angry. So damned angry. I blamed them, and it all seemed easy.”

“You blamed the lamiae for Lucy’s death.”

“That’s the only reason she’d go to that neighborhood. For them. Her family … My family …”

“They’re samhail,” I said. “We know.”

“My family broke away from the pact. They didn’t see the point in it. The Hallorans kept some contact with fae, and they’d help for adequate compensation. Fae don’t have the power they once did. We’ve learned so much as humans that petty fae magics and healing are all but useless. At least, that’s what my family believed. To the Madoles, though, it was an ancient obligation, and they still wanted to help.”

“By setting up a drop-in center for the lamiae.”

He nodded. “That was their mother’s mission. Then Aunika’s. But Lucy … Lucy wanted more. She couldn’t break away completely, though. She still cared. That was the part I hated. If the lamiae needed her, she went, any time of the day or night. I said they didn’t appreciate it. They treated her help like it was their due, resented her for not giving as much as Aunika did. Ungrateful little—” He bit the word off, his voice snapping with old anger.

“So Lucy went to help the lamiae and she was killed, and you blamed them.”

“I was crazy with grief, so when he said that the lamiae actually killed her …”

“What?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I was out of my mind, and I hated—hated—them so much. He said the lamiae murdered Lucy, that they summoned her there, pretending they were hurt, and then demanded money, claiming she owed them for abandoning her duty. When she threatened to tell Aunika, they killed her. The Huntsman couldn’t touch the lamiae because Lucy isn’t fae, so he came to me. He said that if I killed four lamiae, I’d get Lucy back, just like your parents got you back.”