I eased my sword down a notch, keeping it at the ready. Trusting no one in the room but myself.

As the inspector, Jayne had once taken it, leaving me in a trash-filled street, badly wounded, on the verge of bleeding out. Was I supposed to believe he’d now sifted in to prevent me from losing it? I narrowed my eyes and assessed AOZ. I’d drawn conclusions while we’d talked. Not Fae, not human, but magical, and smelling of earth, blood, and bones.

There was an old Earth god in my bedroom and he’d cast a spell on me.

And now there was a Fae prince in my bedroom, too, carefully muted at the moment, for which I was grateful. But who could say how long that would last?

AOZ despised Jayne and, apparently, the entire Fae race.

I said to AOZ’s back, “You want my sword so you can use it to kill Fae.”

He whirled on me, eyes narrowing to slits of green fire. “Better us than them. Give it to me now, you fool!”

In spite of myself, my hand arced upward.

“Dani, don’t,” Jayne murmured.

My hand dropped again.

I’d have nearly liked Jayne at that instant, if he hadn’t added in a voice of coercion, “You will give it to me instead.”

My hand went back up and my feet began a traitor’s walk toward him.

A puppet. I was their bloody puppet. It incensed me. Enough to want to stab them both with the weapon they coveted.

AOZ said coldly, gaze fixed hungrily on my sword, “My spell was first. Hand it to me now, child, or I will raze your motherfucking world.”

Torn between commands, my hand went still and I pondered its motionless state. Spell to my left, voice of power to my right. If they kept tugging at me, what might happen, not to me, but them? Especially if I added my left hand into the mix.

I eased black fingers around the hilt of the sword and laced my hands together.

Jayne’s gaze fixed on the subtle coupling then shot to my face, searchingly.

Still, he continued to work at my will, as did AOZ. I could feel ancient, inimical power rolling off them and knew, though neither was speaking, both were furtively attempting to bend my hand their way. Excruciating pressure escalated inside my head, so I tucked the bulk of my brain into one of my boxes and braced myself. I’d learned long ago how to distance myself from pain.

Two very different forms of power crept over my flesh, slithering under and around, seeking control: one brilliant and summery, one dark and earthy. Two arcane arts met on my hands, mingling perhaps with something of the Hunter’s ancient power, and mixed as badly as oil and water with an undercurrent of dynamite.

There was a swirling tornado of magic-gone-bad building, growing larger and more flawed with each passing moment, then abruptly power exploded from my hands and slammed back into them. Jayne roared and flinched. AOZ shrieked and clawed at his face.

Both turned to snarl at me.

I shrugged, flexing my fingers to make sure they were under my control again. “You shouldn’t try to take a woman’s sword.”

Jayne said sternly, “Dani, that weapon is far more dangerous than you know. Only a Fae can handle its power now.”

AOZ snorted. “Don’t listen to him. The Faerie seduce and lie.”

“But gods don’t?” I said derisively.

His eyes narrowed and he gave me an appraising look. “Perhaps not entirely a fool.”

“Neither yours nor his,” I warned.

Jayne said, “Dani, what happened to your hand?”

“Yes, what?” AOZ asked, eyes narrowing.

“No clue.” That was the truth. But I was done answering questions. I’d formed theories and I wanted answers. “Let me guess; the gods are back, awakened by the Song. Long ago you warred with the Fae. You’ve decided to start that war up again and, to do so, you need my sword.”

“Pretty much,” Jayne said flatly.

“And how long have you known this without bothering to tell any of us?” I fired at Jayne.

“Not very,” he said, bristling at my tone. “They returned weak and hid, biding time until they regained power. Only recently have they begun to show themselves.”

“We were weak because of what you did to us!” AOZ hissed at him then snarled at me, “We didn’t start the war. They did, turning your race against us. Once, your race prayed to us and we listened. We were good to you. Once.”

“Try to take my sword again, you’ll die.”

“I’m not the only one who will come seeking it. Others won’t be as generous as I. You don’t want him to come after it. You never want him to come. It won’t be only your sword he takes. Do yourself a favor and hand it over to me. You’ll be glad you did. If he comes for you, you’ll discover the true meaning of Hell.”

I let my eyes go empty and cold. “I’m not afraid of Hell. I lived there once. And if I have to go back again, I’ll swagger through those gates with fire in my blood and war in my heart. And I’ll. Take. No. Prisoners.”

I meant it. I have little fear. I have a great deal of fury. Inequity, injustice, incites a slow burn inside me that consumes me with deference for neither self-injury nor casualties. I sometimes think I’m a hair trigger away from becoming something…else. A thing I don’t understand.

AOZ said sneeringly, “Good luck with that. His Hell is a place you can’t begin to imagine. Eternal. No escape.”

“Or,” I said with acid sweetness, “I could give my sword to Jayne and you could try to take it from a prince. But, oh, wait, if that were possible you would have taken it the last time your races warred. Seems to me, giving it to Jayne would pretty much shut the old gods down.”

“Yes, Dani,” Jayne said quietly, “it would.”

AOZ hissed, “You’re so certain you prefer the human race answer to the Faerie over us? We guided you. We didn’t turn our backs on you until you betrayed us.”

“I prefer the human race answer to no one but itself. We don’t need, or want, either of you. I’m standing here with two alien races, both vying for control over man—”

“We’re native to this world, not alien,” AOZ growled at the same time Jayne cut me off with, “That’s not true, Dani, and you know it. I once was human. I still hold the same hopes and fears for our race as you do, and adhere to the same priorities I once did.”

AOZ said derisively, “You’re Fae. You don’t feel and you don’t belong on our world.”

“This is our world,” I said coolly. “And as far as I’m concerned, neither of you belong here. And I don’t care if you were human once, Jayne. You’re not now.”

“Dani, I’ll take the sword to the queen,” Jayne said.

“For which I have only your word. No thanks. I’ll be keeping it. Or,” I fished, dying to see Mac again, “you could bring the queen to me and I’d consider handing it over.” Jayne was a mostly good man. With a fatal flaw. Well, two. One, he was a Fae prince now. Two, he’d not been able to resist taking my sword once before for the sake of the “common good.” Pretty much every phrase that begins with the word “common” instills unease in me. Common knowledge, common good, common welfare. Somehow, “common man” never seems to have much of a say in those “common” definitions. Politicians and kings make those decisions and it’s the “common” man who dies when kings go to war.

“It seems we have an impasse,” AOZ said with silky menace. “Two of us don’t require sleep. You do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “It’s only a matter of time and we’ve an infinity of it. Once you’ve wearied, one of us will take the sword. Or you may choose your successor.”

I glanced at Jayne and knew instantly he wasn’t willing to wait that long. He was already changing, no longer concealing his power, but allowing the facade he’d adopted in order to shield me drop away infinitesimal bit by bit, permitting me time to cave before he turned the full, mind-numbing beauty and horror of a Prince of the Court of Seasons on me.

I shivered. Fae princes are sexual beyond human tolerance. They can instill desire in us, amplify it, feed off it, and throw it back at us a thousand times more potent than it began. It’s too much for us. It chars a woman down to ash inside her own mind, leaving nothing but a willing slave.

I might have run Jayne through with the sword—if he hadn’t already begun letting his glamour fall. Now, if I were to lunge for him, he’d simply blast me with the full strength of it, and I’d be on the floor with no thought left of killing him in my smashed mind.

“You wouldn’t,” I said icily.

“I’m sorry, Dani, but I don’t dare let it fall into their hands. This isn’t personal.”

He’d said the same thing to me years ago when he left me lying in that trash-filled street. “Spell check,” I growled, “when you do something to a person, it’s personal. That’s the funny thing about us persons.” I laid down my mental grid and kicked up into the slipstream.