I looked at Claudia, considered the glow of her skin, her new green-land visitation rights. “You’ve been affected by that magic.”

   She didn’t bother to look at me, but kept her gaze on Mallory. “My tower is magicked; it’s how I stay here, and alive. I suspect it has absorbed that power, and I have reaped the benefits.”

   “And the delusions?” Ethan asked.

   “Maybe the magic settled in pockets,” Catcher said. “Jeff has confirmed all the humans who fought us last night were near Towerline when the battle went down. And two dozen more—humans and sups—have been arrested in sporadic outbreaks, most of which have been downtown.”

   “This land is poised at a precipice,” Claudia said. “Whether it falls or not I cannot see; that will be for you to determine, your battle to win.

   “Win it,” she said, and with that final demand, she turned and walked through her lines of fairies, who’d stood motionless in the snow for so long that flakes had gathered on their shoulders. They gathered behind her like a train, then disappeared down the walk and through the gate, steps fading into silence.

   “Take the House off alert,” Ethan said. “For now.”

   Luc nodded to Juliet, who headed to the basement to make the arrangements.

   “Was it real?” he asked quietly, stepping beside Ethan. Luc wasn’t the type to have reservations. “Were we there?”

   “She took us to the green land,” Ethan explained.

   Mallory’s brow lifted with interest. “Really.”

   “The green land isn’t part of our world,” Ethan told Luc, putting a supportive hand on his shoulder. “But it’s as real as anything in it.”

   Luc ran a hand through his hair. “I’d have stayed forever. She could have dropped me off and walked away, and I would have stayed a million years and never wanted anything else.”

   “That is the power of fairy,” Ethan said. “There’s a reason fairy tales exist. They are not love stories; they are warnings.”

   “If she keeps enough magic to visit the green land,” Catcher said, “she’ll change supernatural power dynamics across the world.”

   “If she gets the opportunity, she’ll use it against us,” Ethan agreed. “But for now, we must deal with the present.” He cocked his head at Catcher. “Did you come here to help?”

   “And to research,” Mallory said. “I wanted to borrow your library, do some research on the magic we’re seeing. Maybe it will ring some historical bell.”

   I couldn’t help but smile. “Or historical Bell?”

   “Naming pun,” Catcher said dryly. “Very clever.”

   “And here’s something else clever,” I said. Seth’s suggestion—and Claudia’s visit—had given me an idea. “I think we should go to the source.”

   “Meaning?” Ethan asked.

   I looked at Mallory. “This started with a voice. I think it’s time we take a listen of our own.”

   Ironic silence followed that suggestion.

   “To clarify,” Catcher said. “There’s a voice powerful enough to drive humans literally crazy. And Merit thinks we should tune in to it.”

   But I kept my gaze on Mallory, watched the interest spark in her eyes.

   “If we heard it, we’d learn more about it.” She nodded. “Maybe try to figure out where it was coming from—or who.”

   “That’s the idea,” I said.

   “Could it be done?” Ethan asked.

   “It’s certainly possible,” she said. “It’s magical in origin, so theoretically we should be able to use magic to listen in. But I’d have to work out the details, get my kit together. That will take time. This isn’t OTC magic.”

   “Over the counter?” Ethan asked.

   “I was thinking ‘off the cuff,’” Mallory said with a smile, “but I like yours, too.”

   “How much time will you need?” Ethan asked.

   “Couple of hours, maybe.” Mallory grinned. “I suspect you newlyweds can occupy yourselves in the meantime.”

   “I bet we can,” I said. But the gleam in my eye wasn’t romantic. It was strategic. “I want to break into Sorcha’s house.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

B TO THE E

“You’re just full of interesting plans tonight,” Catcher said. But I kept my gaze on Ethan, watching emotions and considerations move across his face.

   “She has to have a workroom, an office,” I said. “A place where she preps her magic. I want to see it. Maybe we’ll find something that explains what the hell is happening in Chicago.”

   “And maybe we won’t,” Ethan said, “and we’ll be arrested for breaking and entering.” He looked at Catcher. “Didn’t you look through the house after she was arrested?”

   “We were allotted ten minutes by the crime scene folks,” Catcher said, voice as dry as toast. “That didn’t give us time to get through the entire house—just the center wing.”

   “And we didn’t get anything out of that,” Mallory said, “other than a sense of their atrocious taste.”

   She had it right. There wasn’t much in the Reed house that hadn’t been covered in screaming red velvet or gleaming gilt, every nook filled with furniture and statuary.

   “Can we even get in?” Ethan asked.

   “Reed’s estate is in probate,” Catcher said, running fingers over his shorn hair. “Since Sorcha’s accused of his murder and is still on the lam, the house is being monitored by a security outfit hired by the executor.”