“So where do we go now?” I asked, looking back to the car.

The rose goblin was gone, and the fog it brought with it was already thinning. I bit back a curse and bit my tongue at the same time, hissing to keep myself from shouting. The goblin was my one potential link to the lock that fit the key, and I’d been dumb enough to take my eyes off it. It was probably gone the second I looked away. Just great. Leaning against the car, I closed my eyes. The metal was freezing on my back and shoulders, but at least it stood a shot at easing my headache. I hoped so, anyway.

The key was the last piece I needed to make the situation perfectly frustrating: a murder without a motive, a curse without a cure, and now a key without a lock. If I could fit them together somehow, I would be in business. Fighting to focus past my headache, I opened my eyes and climbed back into the car, where the dome light would let me see the key more clearly and the heater would keep me from freezing.

There seemed to be no logic to the twisted brambles making up the key’s head and handle; they were tangled like real vines, and looked like they’d keep on growing if left alone. For all I knew, they would. I narrowed my eyes, looking for the place where the briars began. There were differences in the lines of metalwork if I looked closely enough. Some of the tangles were picked out in darker metals—copper, bronze, or gold—while others blended back into the silver handle. I chose a vine outlined in gold, following it through an overhang of carved ivy and rose branches until it faded behind a triple-twist of interlocked thorns. Jackpot.

Threes are sacred in Faerie. We have three Courts and three rulers, the absent King and Queens that par ented our myriad races. Most of our legends say there are three roads to any destination: the hard way, the easy way, and the long way. Evening was a traditionalist. Even when she played human, part of her wasn’t willing to fully hide what she was, and so her human name was Evelyn Winters, and the name of her human business was Third Road Enterprises. She brokered her faerie gold and natural skills through the doors of Third Road, and no one ever looked twice, even though the name announced what she was hiding.

Third Road Enterprises, whose offices were coincidentally just a short drive from where I was studying the key she’d been so anxious to protect. I don’t believe in coincidence. Everything happens for a reason in this world. I had a destination again. Now . . . well, now I just needed a lock to go with my key.

NINE

THIRD ROAD ENTERPRISES WAS DARK when I arrived. According to the clock on the dashboard, it was a little less than an hour to dawn, when the janito rial staff would probably start to arrive. The rest of the staff wouldn’t show up for a few hours after that, if they came to work at all. It was two days before Christmas, after all. If there was any time when I’d be reasonably able to get in and out undetected, it was now.

Despite my best efforts, I found myself wondering how many of the people who worked there would spend the next few days feigning sorrow before suddenly finding work a lot more pleasant. Evening was even worse with people than I am; she froze them out, while I just let them pass me by. Most folks would forget me if I disappeared again, but they’d remember Evening. They always remembered Evening: she was too wild and strange and fair to forget.

The people in that building would never have believed in Evening’s true face. They thought they knew her, but they were wrong. They knew a woman as human as they were, and I was willing to bet none of them ever looked for anything deeper. They’d never needed to, because in their world, you put Faerie away when you turned off the nursery lights. There’s no place for us in the human world these days, and still we can’t let go.

And when the hell did it go back to being “we”?

I walked toward the building, grateful for the lack of security guards. Considering my stained and increasingly grimy gown, no one was going to believe I had a good reason to be entering an upscale office building in the middle of the night. There’s pushing the bounds of credibility, and then there’s just getting silly.

The taste of roses faded as I walked. It was like playing a game of Hot or Cold with the rules reversed: the closer I got to my goal, the harder it got to know where I was going. If I caught Evening’s killer, the curse would snap and the roses would fade altogether, leaving me free to live or die as I chose. My fingers continued tracing the outline of the key cupped in my palm, trying to puzzle out its secrets. Evening had been more worried about it than she was about her own life. Why? Borrowed memories moved in the back of my mind, hissing, The key will open the way in Goldengreen, in her voice. I stopped where I was, almost stumbling.

Riding the blood isn’t an exact art: bits and pieces of the person you travel with can linger for days afterward, their secrets shaking loose like sand through a sieve. I hadn’t thought of the key in conjunction with Goldengreen before. It made perfect sense. I didn’t want it to.

Goldengreen was Evening’s knowe, and the gateway to her small holdings in the Summerlands. It was locked and sealed to her desires, and the idea of going in didn’t appeal. Once I set foot inside the boundaries of Goldengreen, the odds of being caught would go through the roof. I hadn’t considered that. What would someone who’d been able to kill Evening do to me? Probably nothing I’d enjoy. Not that I had any choice—not with Evening’s curse egging me on. If the key unlocked something in Goldengreen, Goldengreen was my next destination.

The front door wasn’t locked, despite the lateness of the hour. I hesitated with my hand on the handle, then walked inside and crossed to the elevator. There were no security guards. I still didn’t relax until the elevator doors closed between me and the lobby, and I was headed upward, toward the administrative offices on the ninth floor. The last thing I wanted was to be questioned about what I was doing there, but my luck was holding.

It couldn’t last. The door from the elevator lobby on the ninth floor was locked. Worse, it was one of those new keycard locks, which meant I couldn’t even try picking it. I rattled the handle a few times before I gave up, scowling. “Great,” I said, “now what am I supposed to do?”

Sometimes reality stops being subtle in favor of smacking you upside the head. Standing in front of a locked door with a magic key in your hand probably counts. I lifted the key. Somehow, not even the dimly flickering safety lights could make it look like the tacky stage prop it should have been.

“Will you let me in?” Hoping that I wasn’t completely insane, I pressed it against the lock, and said, “I’m here by leave of the Countess of Goldengreen.”