The florist had carried rosemary sprigs as well, in bloom. Their spiky leaves and tiny, pale blue flowers would also look good in the arrangement. The pungent scent of rosemary mixed with the heady odor of roses as Misty worked.

She laid the flowers out in a swirling pattern, leaving enough room in the middle of it for herself and her companions. Then she stripped the rosemary from its stems, as the book told her, and sprinkled the little leaves over the rest of the flowers.

“Now the circles?” Misty asked, thumbing to the page in the book.

“The blessing of the Goddess first,” Ben said. “That’s the most important thing. The other stuff is . . . pizzazz.”

Misty held the book closed, her finger on the spell. “How do I call the Goddess? I’ve never done that before.”

“I know how,” Dougal said. He handed the cubs to Ben and stepped to Misty in the circle. Matt and Kyle settled down in Ben’s big arms, having decided he was a friend.

Dougal took Misty’s hands. His were more rawboned than Graham’s, but just as large and strong. “Think of deepest moonlight,” Dougal said. “Close your eyes, and picture it.”

As soon as Misty shut her eyes, she saw moonlight as it had poured into her backyard last night when Graham had lain over her, his weight warming. His eyes had filled with reflected moonlight as he’d thrust into her, his lovemaking rough, but his hands so gentle.

Misty thought she could feel the cool light here in this dim storeroom. A calm stole over her, one sweetly peaceful.

“The Goddess,” Dougal said in a soft voice. “Be with us.” He twined his fingers more tightly with Misty’s. “I ask your blessings to be upon Misty, as she walks the dangerous path.”

More peace. A breeze touched her cheek, one so tender Misty wanted to melt. “And on Dougal,” Misty said softly. “And the cubs, and Ben.”

A sigh, a breath, perhaps a faint laugh. Misty opened her eyes. The sense of the moonlight evaporated, and she stood again in the dingy storeroom, its fluorescent lights flickering.

“Well done,” Ben said. He handed the cubs to Dougal. “Now the turning and the chanting. Has to happen. Dougal, stay close to her, so that when she goes through, you do too.”

Misty stopped. “No, no, Dougal is staying here. With the cubs. I thought you’d be coming with me,” she said to Ben.

Ben shook his head. “The way to Faerie is sealed for me and my kind. Was ages ago. Dougal can protect you—he’s stronger than he knows.”

“Not the cubs,” Misty said firmly. “You can cub-sit.”

“Yeah,” Dougal agreed, and tried to shove the wolves back at Ben.

Ben took a step back and raised his hands. “Oh, no, you’ll need those little guys. Trust me. They’re essential.”

Dougal and Misty looked at each other. “Graham will take my head off for bringing them,” Dougal said, worried.

The two wolves stared up at Misty with perfect confidence. She reached out and petted each of their heads in turn. “Why do you want me to take them?” Misty asked Ben.

Except Ben wasn’t there. He was gone, the half-empty shelves in the stockroom silent.

“Crap,” Xav said, looking around wildly. “I don’t like that guy.”

Misty took a cub, Kyle, and cuddled him into the circle of her arm. “Doesn’t matter. We might as well take these two,” she said, heaving a sigh. “They’d probably just find a way to follow us.”

Matt and Kyle wagged tails and squirmed in delight.

Dougal moved his head as Matt started licking his chin. “Why do we have to use this spell? When you went through the basement, and when the cubs did, you didn’t have to use flowers and rituals.”

“Don’t ask me.” Misty rubbed the top of Kyle’s head. “But if this works, I don’t care.”

“Crazy Fae shit,” Dougal said. “How about we worry about it after we find Graham? Start twirling.”

“Clockwise.” Misty held Kyle more firmly and turned to her right. Once, twice, three times. “Y-T-S-I-M.”

She stopped. The air conditioner clicked on with a rattle. Another light flickered. But they remained in place, flowers scattered around them.

“Is that all?” Dougal asked.

Misty checked the book. “Yes.” No. Names, those were important, the book said—the difference between what a person was called, and her true name.

Misty closed the book and did the turning again. “A-S-S-I-L-E-Mmm . . . Holy crap.”

She’d stopped moving but seemed to be still spinning in place. The flowers lifted around her, circling her, petals leading stems. Yellow, blue, violet, yellow, blue, violet. Faster and faster, making her dizzy.

In the blaze of petals and scent—rose, violet, rosemary, forget-me-not—Misty reached out and latched her hand around Dougal’s wrist. Xav shouted. Misty felt Xav’s warm fingers on her arm, and then they slipped away, disappearing.

The whirlwind increased, the vortex sucking them somewhere. Misty couldn’t think or see, hear or smell anymore. She could only feel the steel strength of Dougal’s arm under her hand, and the warm body of Kyle against her chest.

The whirling dropped away, the flowers falling at once. Dead, petals and leaves brown.

But scents and color lingered. Misty was in a cave with a smooth black floor, covered in vines of colorful flowers, their scents so strong they were sickening. The fountain she remembered burbled enticingly in the center of the cave.

Other than that, all was quiet. No one was there, not Oison, not Graham. Xav was gone too, left behind. Misty’s hand remained on Dougal’s arm. He moved closer to her, Matt whimpering.

“Where is he?” Dougal’s whisper was loud in the relative silence.

Misty looked around the cave. It was dark, but again lit from above, as though cracks opened to sunlight. If she found the entrance to the cave, would she emerge in the hot Nevada desert? Or someplace strange to her?

“Matt,” Dougal said frantically. “Son of a bitch.”

Matt had wriggled hard out of Dougal’s arms. Kyle kicked free of Misty at the same time and landed on his paws, running as soon as he hit the ground.

“Kyle, Matt!” Misty yelled. “Wait!”

She ran after the two cubs, who were loping off into the darker part of the cave. She jumped over ropes of flowers she swore reached up to grab her as she passed. Dougal came behind, his human snarls changing to wolf’s.