Sophie lifted one shoulder. “I’m not sure what you said there, but I have a feeling it was not complimentary. Let’s clear up a few things for you old-timey folks—not that this is likely to come up again anytime soon. Don’t touch me without my permission. Don’t order anything for me again. Don’t speak for me when I can speak for myself. Don’t open doors for me, and don’t take that patronizing, lord-of-all-you-survey tone with me. Not if you want me to do a goddamn thing for you. You still owe me for the attack from two weeks ago—and for this.” She indicated the bruises appearing on her wrist. “Understood?”

Nikolas curled a nostril and didn’t deign to reply. Gawain coughed again. “I, for one, understood that perfectly.”

She gave Gawain a tight smile. “I’ll go get my vial. Be right back.”

Gawain nodded. “Thank you.”

As she stood, she tried to put Robin down in her seat, but the dog let out a sudden ki-yi that was so loud all conversation paused as everybody looked at them.

“Oh fine,” she snapped. She tucked him under her arm, and together they left.

When they were alone again, Nikolas and Gawain looked at each other. Gawain said, “What is the matter with you? You grabbed her and shoved her into the wall, and all because she stopped to help an injured creature?”

The edged note in the other man’s quiet voice rankled. Nikolas snapped, “There’s more going on than that.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you act this way.” The other man studied him keenly. “What did she mean when she said you attacked her?”

“You remember when I killed four Hounds a fortnight ago, just before the summer solstice gathering?”

Gawain frowned. “Yes.”

“The fog rolled over the park within seconds, and the Hounds attacked. Just as I killed the last one, I felt a presence. When I turned around, she was there. Not physically. It was more like a vision. I thought she was part of the ambush, possibly responsible for the fog, and I threw a morningstar at her.” Nikolas set his teeth. “And we still don’t know if she was involved or not. All we really know is that Robin seems attached to her, so it’s unlikely she was involved in torturing him.”

Gawain’s frown deepened as he considered that. “The pub keeper said she just arrived in England.”

“He said she just arrived in England today.” Nikolas stressed the last word. “That has nothing to do with where she was two weeks ago. She could have been here, left, and come back again. Or she could have been involved while in a different location. We never connected physically. It was all psychic, all magical.”

“Damn. Okay.” Gawain blew out a breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. “If she was involved in the attack, she might try to make a run for it.”

“We’ll know if she tries to leave,” Nikolas said. “And I’m sure she has figured that out.”

A pause, as they both listened to the normal sounds in the pub, and Nikolas listened with more than just his ears. He could sense her presence above them, on the second floor, and hear her light, decisive footsteps.

“I don’t think she’s going to try to leave,” Gawain said suddenly. “She’s become too immersed in what’s happening. And she wouldn’t let go of the dog when she thought we might want to hurt it. That doesn’t sound like someone who would cast a blanket of fog to cover up a murder.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it?” Nikolas murmured. He tilted his head. “She wouldn’t even put Robin down just now when he didn’t want her to leave him.”

He still didn’t like how she had shown up at the same time Robin had reappeared, but that could have been a coincidence. What had happened a fortnight ago could have been a coincidence too—but that was a hell of a lot of coincidence. It made him uneasy.

In any case, he had to give credit where credit was due. She might be irritating and mouthy, and she seemed to embody more than one contradiction, but she also appeared to have a streak of genuine kindness.

The woman might end up having more soul than he did.

* * *

“What I wouldn’t give for my Glock,” Sophie said under her breath to the dog who wasn’t a dog riding in the curve of her arm. To the puck. Whatever a puck was. “You have no idea. I know a gun isn’t the answer to everything. I know I have many other skills I can rely upon, but a gun is ready, you see, when spells might not be. It can lie under your pillow while you sleep, standing sentinel as you dream, all the bullets nicely nested and just waiting to be fired.”

Robin blinked up at her, looking as if he was trying to comprehend what she was saying. Really, he was playing the dog very well.

She muttered, “I know it’s not attractive to constantly complain about something you can do nothing about, but as long as you’re riding with me, I guess you’re going to have to put up with it.”

While she talked, she unlocked the door to her room, opened her bigger suitcase, and rummaged through the contents until she found the correct royal blue, stoppered bottle along with the small, thin brush she had attached to it with a rubber band. After locking her room again, she loped down the stairs.

Ignoring the sidelong looks from the patrons they’d not yet managed to scare off, she crossed the front room quickly to slide back into her seat. The two men had been conversing in low voices. As she joined them, they sat back and turned their attention to her.