Louis turns back to us and claps his hands. “Now. Unless I am greatly mistaken, good vampire blood has healed what I can assume were bad injuries after your accident. I would be remiss if I did not ask after any lingering issues?”
Among other things, Louis is a medical doctor. He mostly cares for vampire, but I’m living proof that his skill with human medicine isn’t lacking a thing. When we all just shake our heads at him, he smiles. “Wonderful. In that case, why don’t the four of us get off of this plane, stretch our legs and catch up a bit?”

I frown at him. Catch up? I thought he said we wouldn’t have any privacy unless we here were on the plane. What are you up to? He doesn’t react to my directed thought. At this point it’s 50/50 whether he’s ignoring me or simply not listening to me. I glance at Emma and Kate. Emma catches my eye and shrugs. After days of serious hiking, my body is screaming to move. I jump to my feet. “I’m game. I could use a little exercise.”

Emma and Kate readily echo my sentiment so I’m sure they feel the same. I start to set the box down, but something tells me to put the dagger on. I don’t know if it’s what Louis said or just the fact that there is too much danger around us, but when I clip the sheath onto my waistband I feel degrees calmer. 

When I step down to the concrete hangar floor, my jaw almost drops open. I had no idea of the scale when I was sitting on the plane, but this place is huge. At one end are the doors the jet came in through. The opposite end houses row after row of huge shipping boxes packed uniformly all the way to the ceiling. The ceiling stretches far overhead, several stories. The facing wall has three doors. A regular width doorway right in front of us, and a set of wide double doors at either end. On the other side of the warehouse are four stories of partitioned rooms for various uses. The hangar is so well lit that even though they’re darkened, I can see most of the upper levels are equipped with office technology, while those on the first floor are all walled in. The hangar is so wide it could easily fit 4 of Jo’s jets. I try to remember how Jo’s compares. I wasn’t paying that much attention this morning. There were two of her planes in there, and still plenty of room for that many again, I think. What is that retail listing like? Rather than “detached four car garage” it’s “detached four airplane hangar”? My musings make me chuckle and Emma elbows me. 

“Whatcha thinking about that’s so funny?”

I shake my head at her. “Don’t ask. It’s a dangerous place in this head.”

“Lord, I know that’s the truth,” Kate says. “I feel for you vampire, Louis. It must be hell listening to the inane thoughts of people all the time.”

Louis nods. “Oui. This is why we learn to block, so that we cannot listen,” he winks at me, “unless we need to. And we cannot in turn be listened to.”

I roll my eyes. “Must be nice. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to block.”

Louis tuts. “You do not give yourself enough credit. I’ve seen an improvement. Where once you all but yelled your thoughts, they have become more whisper. Your work is paying off.”

I’m so surprised I stop walking. “Are you serious? I’m improving?”

“Mais oui, mademoiselle. Of course you are! All this work you have put into your lessons with Nicolette. Did you think she kept going out of sheer determination? No, our Nicolette is far too practical for such a waste of time.”

Pain squeezes my chest and I rub my sternum. He hasn’t heard. Oh, no. Oh, Nicolette. I lift my eyes to Louis and whether he reads my grief or just sees it in my eyes, he knows.

“Oh. Forgive me. I knew we had lost many, but I did not know Nicolette was one of them. I only spoke to Dex briefly.”

Emma, nearest the wall, turns and starts walking again. She doesn’t wait for us to fall in beside her, but we do with Louis nearest the plane. She says, “She sacrificed herself to try to land the plane. She saved us all, Louis.”

He nods, his eyes misty with red liquid, which I realize must be his tears. I’ve never seen a vampire cry. I wonder if Jo would cry red, too? My musing is cut off with his words. “That sounds like our Nicolette.” He reaches out and lays a hand on my shoulder. “We will remember her, non?” 

“Oui, nous nous souviendrons,” I say. Always. I will always remember Nicolette. Jo taught me the words last November on Armistice Day, but she said that in France, they were words often said by vampire when one of them passed. Those three words have been on my mind a lot lately.

We finish our first lap in silence. Partway through the second, Louis says, “Kate, if I may be so blunt, when did you last manifest fire?”

I widen my eyes at him, but he takes no notice of me. I’d already noticed how the acoustics in this hangar make even small sounds bounce around. I can’t believe he just came out with that in a normal voice. Aren’t there supposed to be like cameras everywhere, listening and watching us? As if we can contain it, we all stop walking and move closer together.
Kate’s eyebrows climb to her hairline. “Ah, I guess it’s been a day or so.”

Emma sucks in her breath. “Oh, no. I forgot. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Do you need to make a flame? You need to make a flame, right?”

Kate’s cheeks pinken. “It’s not your job to remind me, you know. I’m not a kid or anything. I’ve been doing just fine on my own,” she mumbles.

Emma looks taken aback and her shoulders drop, “I didn’t mean--”

Louis pats Kate’s back. “Of course you have,” he says soothingly, cutting off Emma’s apology. “You have been doing a remarkable job. But with all that has happened, is it any wonder to any of us that you might forget? Why don’t you just go ahead and manifest that flame now?”

Emma stares at me. I just shrug at her. Louis is clearly up to something. It’s really unlike him to cut Emma off like that. But what could he be trying to do? Not for the first time I scan the high ceiling for red lights or technology that indicate where cameras might be. I still don’t see a thing.

Kate’s eyes dart around. She bends toward him. “Now? Here? I thought you said they could hear and see everything?”

Louis laughs. “Well, you cannot expect to make your fire on the airplane, now can you?”

I all but shout to him, but he feigns ignorance and refuses to look at me.

Kate blusters. “Well, no, but I mean, it isn’t, I mean, I can’t. Here?”

“Oh, come now. There is plenty of room here, you won’t catch anything on fire. Libby and I will see to it. And if we cannot, Emma is here, n’est ce pas? It will be fine.” 

Louis’ eyes sparkle with something other than humor. Which confirms my suspicion. He’s up to something, though I’ve no idea what. But I do trust him. And if he thinks Kate needs to make a flame right here in front of the benefactor and whoever, so be it. I shrug at her. “I can’t argue with the facts. It’s best you do it now. There’s no telling the next time we’ll be in a place where you can safely release your fire.”

Finally, with what I can only describe as relief on her face, Kate lifts her hand, palm up and a flame leaps up as if growing from her hand. In reality, it dances a couple of millimeters above the skin. 

In a low voice he mutters. “Beautiful. Perfect. Now, shall we continue walking ladies?” 

I have a surreal sense as we all turn and start walking in a single line again. Emma closest to the wall, then Kate, then me, then Louis. I walk, feeling tense and ready for whatever is coming. After a few minutes of nothing happening, I start to relax. Maybe he was wrong?

“Emma, you really are quite remarkable. I still don’t know how you managed to turn that curse into such a beautiful gift. I believe it’s due to your genetics, oui?” 

Emma stares at Louis. I don’t blame her. She’s spent her whole life hiding who she is and here Louis is dangling her fae power in front of whoever is watching like bait. 

Bait? I spin to him. “Louis?” But with a tiny movement he shakes his head at me, his eyebrows knit for a fraction of a second. The guileless smile at Emma never changes. Okay, fine, I think at him. But if this puts my friends in danger, I’ll hold you responsible. 

His head moves slightly in what I can only take as his agreement to the message I sent him. Well okay, as long as we’re clear. Don’t know what I could possibly do to hold him responsible, but for some reason I feel better.

He raises his eyebrows at Emma and though she looks upset, she nods. “Yes, that’s what I thought, too. You do have an enviable heritage, non?” Emma’s cheeks turn red. “Not at all like the horrible beast who cursed our friend,” he gestures to Kate as if we don’t know who he’s referring to, “or the evil ones who thought they could use you to draw your father out of hiding.”

Emma rounds on him, her jaw clenched. “Well it worked, didn’t it?” She grinds out. “Years, Louis. Thousands of them. They hunted,” her voice breaks but it doesn’t deter her. Tears glisten in her eyes, but she looks furious. “They sent the Hounds. He eluded them. Still. They never. Gave. Up.” Emma’s skin starts to glow and I look around nervously. Louis, on the other hand, hasn’t changed expression at all, though his eyes flash with something like satisfaction. “For millennia Daddy hid his identity from them. Until I messed up.” Emma’s face crumples but her skin only glows more brilliantly. “It’s all my fault. It’s my fault! Because of me,” Emma’s voice catches. Her eyes appear backlit with turquoise light. “Because of me,” she wails. “Every worthless piece of fae trash in the world knows who he is now. Knows who I am. Because of me, Daddy has to watch his back constantly. It’s exhausting him. He can’t keep this up. Mommy can’t sleep. That’s what this awesome heritage has given us, Louis,” she spits. “That’s how remarkable I am.” She spins away, setting the ethereal glimmer of wings on her back fluttering.

Oh, Emma. I had no idea she felt so responsible. My heart breaks for her. I certainly had my part in making him vulnerable. Needing to comfort the pain I see in her eyes, I take a step toward her, but Kate, the fire doused, stays me with a hand on my arm. She shakes her head and nods toward the single door ahead of us, level to where Emma stands, still brilliantly lit, her shoulders shaking with sobs. 

A man stands in the open doorway. He fills the space, broad but fit, the top of his head barely under the frame. He’s barefoot. His outfit is all black, some kind of martial arts belted top and wide pants that end above his ankles. His silvery blond hair is smoothed back from a wide forehead and a face worthy of old Hollywood with a rugged jaw, wide eyes, and an aquiline nose. His skin is flawless. He’s gathered his hair at his nape with what looks like some kind of cord or rope wrapped around and around the first few inches of it. The thick length streams down his back, standing out against the unrelieved black. 

He looks somehow familiar, but I’m certain I’d remember him if we’d met.

He’s tense, every fiber of his being focused on the weeping woman standing with her back to him, completely unaware of the potential danger lurking behind her.

Louis! The door! I call to him. But he just nods at me, smiling. He gestures to Kate and I to follow him and after a second, I do. I’m not getting a dangerous vibe from him, but as we back slowly away, I keep my eyes on the stranger still transfixed by my best friend.

Padding foot over foot he silently covers the distance between them. But he isn’t stalking. It’s more like he’s afraid of moving too quickly and spooking her. He holds one arm outstretched toward her, a look of hopeful wonder on his face. A few feet shy of touching her, his arm drops to his side. 

Abruptly Emma stops crying and spins, her arms up in a fighting stance. But when she catches sight of him she drops her hands. For a long moment no one says anything. Emma swipes at the moisture under her eyes and smooths her hair. He watches her every move like he’s spellbound. 

“You look like him,” the stranger says in a voice filled with wonder.

“Who?” In stark contrast, Emma’s voice sounds harsh and suspicious. She broadens her stance and holds her arms loosely at her sides. She takes a slow breath in and lets it out, a move I’ve seen her do dozens of times in the gym right before we start sparring.

“You move like him too.”

“Who?” she repeats, angry, now, like she’s daring him to say a name.

And it suddenly hits me why he looks so familiar. Sure, his massive frame dwarfs him, but now the resemblance is unmistakable. It’s the hair and the shape of the face, the effortless charm and good looks. He and Emma’s father could be siblings, they look so much alike. And I understand now what Emma must have seen the minute she turned around. This guy is at least half fae. Yet there’s nothing about him that brings to mind the ones who kidnapped her. He’s muted. Like Mr. O’Shea.

The hair goes up on the back of my neck when he whispers reverently, “You are the progeny of Enough and No More.” Then he falls to one knee and bows his head to her. When he raises his head, his eyes glow golden like her father’s. “Tell me he lives.”

Emma gulps air in great heaves. Her hands up in defense mode once again, she stumbles away from him. She stops a few feet away. “I don’t know who you are or what the hell you are talking about, but I swear on my mother’s head, if you don’t tell me right this second we are going to fight until one of us doesn’t get back up.”

Instead of getting defensive, he grins at her. His voice is a pleasant tenor. “Oh, there’s no doubt about it, now. I’ve seen that exact look on his face countless times.” Then his face closes down. “I put that look on his face too many times to count.” Slowly, as if it hurts him, he rises to his feet. When he reaches his full height, he lifts his shoulders and drops them, just as Mr. O’Shea did when he shed his glamour, though to a lesser degree. With the lowering of his shoulders his exposed skin emits a gentle glow and his ears elongate on the top and bottom. Nothing else changes, but I get the sense that’s on purpose, not out of an inability to transition. “In this age I go by Taran. And if I am not much mistaken dear one, I am your uncle.”