The words gave voice to my own doubts, yet hearing them infuriated me. The kitchen dimmed as white-hot anger zeroed in on the falcon. I tensed, ready to lunge at the stupid bird. I’d wring its neck and toss its broken body aside like a limp rag. I’d—

“Victory.” Mab’s voice cut through the haze of anger. “Remember yourself.”

I closed my eyes. The vision persisted—I could feel the bird’s neck crack under my fingers, see the lifeless heap of feathers. No. Stop. Not Dad. I inhaled slowly, counting to five, feeling the air expand my lungs. I held it there, counting to five again. In my mind, my hands were still tight around the falcon’s neck, but the edges of the vision blurred. I exhaled to another five counts, making an effort to empty my lungs. As I inhaled again, the vision dissolved.

In my mind’s eye, my hands were empty. My father perched, unharmed, on the back of a chair. I kept my eyes closed, holding those images in place.

A few more rounds of focusing on my breathing drained away the anger. The demon mark’s heat diminished to the level of a bad sunburn. I opened my eyes.

Where was Dad? The chair where he’d been perching was empty. Then I saw him on top of the fridge. He’d flown out of my reach. Yesterday I’d nearly gone after Mab with a sword. Today I’d been ready to wring my father’s neck.

“You need to work on anger management, Vic.”

“You’re not the first to say so. But that doesn’t make what you said okay.”

The falcon ducked his head. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need protection. Not like that.” Deep breath, Vicky. “My love life is my own business. Kane and I will work things out for ourselves.”

“You really love him?”

“Yeah. I do.” The effort of pushing away the anger collapsed my knees, and I sat down at the table.

“You can’t argue with that, Evan.” Mab came over with her mug of tea. “I understand your concern with Vicky’s future. However, you’d do well to remember your own past. You may not be a werewolf, but I seem to recall that you once persuaded a skilled Cerddorion demon fighter to give up her career for you.”

That ruffled Dad’s feathers. “I didn’t persuade Anne. It was her decision. Anyway, that was different. Vicky has a role to play.”

“Only if she accepts it. And that’s not a decision you—or I—can make for her.” Mab glanced at me sidelong, and I wondered whether she was thinking about the Lady of the Cerddorion again. Because if it really was my choice, I could tell her right now: I didn’t want the job. Nope. Mab was the Lady, not me. Not in a million years.

“All right,” Dad said. He left his refrigerator perch and glided to a chair. “You’re right, Vic. I was wrong. I’ll apologize to the werewolf the next time I see him.”

“The werewolf has a name, Dad. It’s Kane.” I reached out and scratched the falcon’s head. He cooed and leaned into my hand, closing his rainbow-colored eyes. “I think you’ll like him once you get to know him.”

The falcon straightened, clucking. “We’ll see. I mean, I’ll give it a shot. If he’s important to you, I’ll give him a chance. In the meantime, do you have any of those little cheeseburgers Juliet makes for me?”

I microwaved a package of sliders and put some bread in the toaster for Mab. I hadn’t had time to pick up her favorite marmalade, but she graciously made do with strawberry jam.

By the time I brought everything over to the table, Dad and Mab had reached an agreement: As soon as the sun went down, the three of us would be at the Granary Burying Ground, the place where I’d imprisoned the Morfran Pryce had brought to Boston. Mab would release the Morfran from the old slate headstones, and Dad would kill it. I’d stand by to capture any Morfran that tried to escape. It was a good plan, and the sooner we could put it into action, the better.

Dad attacked the mini-cheeseburgers fiercely, devouring each in two bites. When he was finished, he stretched his wings and cleared his throat.

“I have an announcement,” he said. “I’m going to take the plunge.”

“You mean you’re finally going to tell Mom?”

“Yes. Today. I don’t want to put it off any longer.”

“That’s great, Dad. She’ll be thrilled.”

“You think so? I’ve been worried the whole situation will upset her.”

“She’s missed you for a long time.” I knew how that felt. When Dad died, I thought I’d never get over my grief and guilt. When I found him again in the Darklands, it was clear things had changed, but I still had the essence of my father back. That’s what counted.

“Ten years. But that’s just it. By now, she’s accepted that I’m dead. Gone. She’s adjusted to the idea. We always told each other that if anything happened to one of us, we’d want the other to move on.” His voice suddenly sounded small. “What if she has?”

“She’s not dating anyone, if that’s what you mean. She told me so.”

“But don’t you see? My return could mess up her life. I’m back, yes, but in this body.” He opened and closed his wings. “It’s painfully obvious that things can never be like they were between us. What if she doesn’t want to be married to a bird? Or worse, what if she squelches her own life because she feels an obligation to this freak hybrid that holds some part of her long-lost husband? Or what if—”

“Come, come, Evan.” Mab’s no-nonsense tone cut Dad off mid-rant. “Stop torturing yourself. Best let her decide.”

“Mab’s right, Dad.”

“I know. And now I realize that maybe I don’t have all the time in the world. The Night Hag wants this body, and even if I escape her, it looks like the falcon will be on the front lines when Pryce leads the demons out of Hell. It’d be a real shame if I never got the chance to speak to Anne.”

“It’s the reason you escaped the Darklands,” I said. “Sometimes you have to take risks.” That was something I was learning, myself.

Dad didn’t speak for a moment, staring into the distance. Then he blinked and puffed out his chest. “You’re right,” he said. “Let’s do it. Today, before I lose my nerve again.”

“We’ll be rooting for you, Dad.”

“You’ll be doing more than that, Vic. At least, I hope you will. I need your help.”

“What do you want us to do?”

“Set things up for me. Ring your mother, and tell her Mab is in town. Arrange a meeting in the park. Tell Anne to come alone.”

It could work. Mom would love to see Mab, and she’d understand the need to get away from Gwen’s house to do it. Gwen harbored bad feelings toward Mab, thanks to a twenty-year-old misunderstanding. Recently, Gwen had realized that past events were more complicated than she’d thought. She’d softened toward Mab, but only a little—not enough to invite her over. Now, when Dad revealed himself to Mom at the park, Mab and I would be there to offer them support. I had a feeling they’d need it.

“I would enjoy seeing your mother again, Victory.”

“Okay.” I turned to Dad. “What time do you want me to set up the meeting?”

“How soon can you drive out there?”

Wow, Dad really had made up his mind. “It depends. Let me see what the restriction code is.” If they’d raised the code back to red or orange after the zombie attack at Logan, I’d have trouble getting Mab out of Deadtown.

Dad paced back and forth on the table, pecking at cheeseburger crumbs, as I called the hotline to check.

“We’re good,” I told him. “It’s still yellow. Let me call Mom and see what she says.”

My luck held. Gwen had taken Justin, her youngest, to a swim class at the Y. Mom said she’d love to see Mab and could meet us at the park at ten.

“Okay, Dad,” I said after I hung up. “You’ve got a date with destiny in two hours.”

“Two hours?” It was hard to tell with a white falcon, but I could swear he paled a couple of shades. “Gotta go. I have to practice my speech.”

“Evan, it’s Anne,” Mab said. “Your wife. The mother of your girls. A speech is not required.”

The falcon bobbed his head in a distracted nod and took off, flying straight through the ceiling. He was off to meet his date with destiny.

22

I HALF DREADED THE DRIVE OUT TO NEEDHAM, BECAUSE I expected Mab to start up with her Lady of the Cerddorion talk again. But as soon as we got through the checkpoints, her eyes closed and her head lolled back against the seat. An occasional snore erupted from her sleeping face. Once or twice, she snorted so loudly she woke herself up, putting her hand on her chest and exclaiming, “Goodness!” before plunging immediately back into sleep.

As I drove, I thought about Dad’s remarks about werewolves. About Kane. He was wrong to jump to conclusions before he’d gotten to know Kane, but some niggling doubt deep in my gut reminded me that not long ago I’d been thinking the same thing. Face it, Vicky. It’s exactly why you’ve always held back.

It was true. The first time Kane invited me to join him at his werewolf retreat, I balked because I thought he wanted to change me. I’m a shapeshifter, not a werewolf, I’d insisted, worried he’d expect me to spend each full moon as a wolf. Worried he wanted more from me than I could give—like a family. Later, I was even ready to let him go, to end our relationship so he could pair off with a more suitable mate, only to find he wanted me.

He wanted me.

Even now, I could hardly believe it. Kane was the most eligible lone wolf in Boston. He could have his pick of sexy, smart, successful females of his own kind. Yet he wanted a shapeshifter with a stubborn personality and serious commitment issues.

I knew why the demon mark had tapped so easily into my anger at Dad: His words touched a fear I didn’t want to admit. However much Kane and I loved each other—and I could no longer doubt that we did love each other—we’d never get our happily ever after. We couldn’t. We were too different.