From the depths of the chest, Taran lifts a small velvety midnight blue bag in pristine condition. He tugs the inky black cord loose, upends the bag, and a silver ring falls into his palm. He studies it a moment before closing his fist around it and looking up at us.

​

“As I told you, The Empress’s gift you need to be wary of is power borrowing. She’s like a bloodhound sniffing you out, then she takes whatever she wants. Meanwhile you are left standing there helpless as a lamb while she wields her windfall to her best advantage.”

​

Louis nods at Taran. “It sounds to me as if you have first-hand experience with her.”

​

Taran narrows his eyes at Louis but focuses his attention on Emma. “My brother and I are firsts; we are the first generation born here. Our blood carries that of our parents’ world, the one they abandoned to populate this one. You may be only half, but you are a second. You have too much pure untapped power. If she takes even a portion of what you possess, none of you will survive.”

​

She stares at him with wide eyes and wider mouth. I’m shocked, too. Just how much power does Emma have? And what does he mean that it’s untapped? I was under the impression the evil fae took some of her powers and she was now diminished. She’s certainly appeared less – vibrant. Less perfect. I look at Kate and she raises her eyebrows, looking meaningfully at her empty palm. The one that held a flame not long ago. How could I forget? Emma changed the curse placed on Kate by an evil fae into a gift. Jo told me it takes a tremendous amount of power to transform a curse once it’s been set on someone. More power than Jo knew Emma possessed. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, she was distracting me with her tongue if memory serves. And, oh what I wouldn’t give to have Jo’s tongue on me again. I wrench myself out of that line of thinking.

​

Taran opens his fist and holds out his open palm to Emma. She takes the ring from him gingerly, as if it’s fragile, and as he did earlier, she lays it in the center of her palm and studies it. “This ring is a power in and of itself. To all but fae it feels inert. Just an old silver ring. But in the hands of a fae, it will not only mask the wearer’s power, it also seals it inside. You won’t be able to wield your powers, but that power consuming bitch won’t be able to steal them, either.”

​

Emma turns to me, her eyes the same crystalline blue they were before she was kidnapped. And it occurs to me that when she fluffed her hair after Taran’s song, it had the full-bodied golden luster it used to have. It’s not the ring, either, because it’s still resting on her open palm. Did his song...open her up? If so, what did those evil fae actually do to her?

 

“Em?”

​

Before she can answer, Taran says, “Just what do you have there, girlie?”

​

It takes me a minute to realize he’s looking at me, or more specifically, at my left hip. I lay a protective hand over the sheath. It’s Mine. Okay where did that come from? I clear my throat. “It was a gift.”

​

Taran looks at Emma. “A fae gift?”

​

I look at Emma, too, but she’s frowning at my left hip. “No,” I tell Taran. “Not a fae gift. My friend, a vampire, gave it to me. Why? What’s going on?”

​

Glancing down I realize what’s drawn everyone’s attention. The dagger is glowing. My fingers only shake a little as I unclip the flap and draw her out. And I was wrong, the entire dagger isn’t glowing, just the etched flowers and swirls, which are now words, like those on the chest. I still have no idea what they mean.

​

From one breath to the next, Taran and Louis in front of me, Louis between us. Taran shoots a frustrated look at him. “I won’t harm the girl. You have my word, vampire. I just want to see it.”

​

“Her,” I say.

​

Taran gives me a sharp look. “What’s that?”

​

I have no idea where that came from. But I know it’s right, somehow. Before I can think better of it, out of my mouth comes, “You just want to see her. My dagger isn’t an ‘it’” I lay her flat on my palm and extend my arm for him to see it. “What do these words mean?”

​

Emma steps close, studying the dagger like she’s never seen it before. She cocks her head and looks up at Taran. “My translation is really rusty, it’s been years, but I’d like to try. Will you tell me if I get something wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, but he inclines his head.

​

I shift so that Emma can see the dagger better. She mutters to herself a moment, then says, “It says, she,” Emma shoots me a fleeting smile before turning back to her uncle, “was forged by Brigid the Smith.”

​

Taran nods. “Brigid the Smith was your 3rd cousin, no, I’m wrong. She was my 3rd cousin, so that makes her your 4th. Smithy was a fae of incredible strength who loved her forge almost as much as she loved her women.”

​

Emma’s eyes widen but I laugh. I knew I loved this dagger.

​

Shrugging, Emma turns back to the strange writing. “Love her as I who made her and she will always be true.” She turns to Taran. “This word for true has a couple of different meanings. Can you help?”

​

Taran looks at Louis. The vampire moves a step, but keeps himself beside Taran. Chuckling, Taran bends to the dagger, holding his arms behind his back. “No, you’re almost right. It’s true. But what it means here is that her aim will always be true.” He straightens and looks at me. “What that means is that now that she’s awakened, anything you want to use her for, she’ll make happen. If you want to stab someone in the heart, she’ll find their heart and bury herself in it. If you want to cut off their head, she’ll unerringly hit in the right place and lop it off their shoulders with ease. What you have there is a true fae treasure.” Something like avarice passes over his features, almost too quick to grasp before he smooths his features.

​

Emma gapes at him. Not trusting him, I wrap my fingers securely around her hilt and study the 4 inch blade. “Come on, you’re trying to tell me this little knife is up to the task of chopping someone’s head off?”

​

Watching me, Taran slowly reaches out a finger, as if asking for permission. For some reason, I want to jerk her away, but I force myself to meet him halfway. He touches the middle of the blade. I’m glad I have such a hold on the blade because for a brief moment, my little knife expands to more than double her size. The phantom short sword hangs there for a few beats, then it fades away.

​

Kate sputters. “What the heck was that?”

​

I look at my dagger with a little more respect. “Yeah,” I murmur to her. “What the heck was that?” For a second the hilt warms and I get the sense she’s amused.

​

“She is awakened, that’s ‘what the heck’.” He almost keeps a sullen note out of his voice. But not completely. His eyes full of suspicion, narrow at me. “But I know the nature of this blade. She’s fae made, for fae and she wouldn’t bestir herself, even with the Song of Opening, unless it were a fae holding her. So just who are you?”

​

I blink at him. Fae? Me? And as I stare at his frowning face, pieces start to fall in place. Times when my intuition was so strong I knew I couldn’t be wrong. My ability to connect with Emma when she was under the evil fae’s thrall; Mr. O’Shea saying a human shouldn’t be able to do that, no matter how strong our sibling-like bond. And comments I made nothing of at the time rise to the surface of my mind. In the gym, Chris remarking on how much better I seemed to be at anticipating his moves when we trained. And before that, Jo and Louis discussing the inhuman strength I exhibited overcoming Jo’s father in the militant’s compound, for which Louis had no explanation. I thought I dreamt that, but now I realize I must have been half-conscious.

 

Emma shrugs. “You’ve got somebody in your line a couple of generations ago.”

 

Kate makes a small distressed sound and I turn to see Taran’s intent gaze on her. “And I thought you fae from the flame you produced, but you’re just a human. So why?” His nostrils flare and he glares at Emma. “And why does she smell like you?”

 

Emma straightens her shoulders. “She was cursed. I fixed it.”

 

Taran’s eyes widen and he gapes at her. Finally he says, “Not Burn.”

 

Emma nods and Taran pales. He looks back and forth from Kate to Emma a few times. “Just so I am clear. You stopped Burn from killing her. Not your father?”

 

Louis laughs. “Vraiment? Really? Is this so hard for you to believe? Does this lovely lady appear at all human to your considerably spectacular vision?”

 

Taran’s eyes widen. “Truly my brother is the strongest to ever live if he produced you with a mundane human.”

 

Emma shrugs noncommittally. “My Daddy’s wonderful, that’s for sure, but my Mama is moreso.”

 

The look on Taran’s face worries me. I decide we need a distraction so I hold out the dagger to Emma. “Does she have a name? Does the writing say anything about what I should call her?”

 

Emma smiles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s find out. Turn it over, would you”

 

Emma peers at the writing still visible on the flip side of the handle. “I think, I think it’s saying her name is, True? Truety? Truthful? That’s not very original.”

 

Taran shrugs. “Take your pick. On the contrary, it just underscores her gift. But call her whatever you want to call her. It’s obvious she’s yours now. She chose you.”

 

Something rough in Taran’s voice makes all of us look at him, but he’s bent back over the chest. After a moment he stands gripping something in both hands. For a long moment he studies it and I think I see something like grief cross his features.

 

But it’s gone as fast as it appears. “Since both of you have something, this artifact will go to you, Kate.”

I glance at Kate. She’s been through enough at the hands of evil fae. She deserves a little protection. But when she glances at me, her face looks worried.

 

She swallows. “Is it sentient?”

 

He shakes his head. “Not sentient in the sense you’re probably thinking of, though we’ve probably made it seem that way with that one’s dagger. None of our artifacts are purely sentient. As all of them, your dagger bears the essence of the individual fae who imbued their power into it.”

 

Again I see something raw cross his features. She clearly meant something to him.

 

Emma catches it, too because she asks, “Uncle?”

 

But he shakes his head. “It’s an old story that deserves more time than we can give it here today. If you survive this—”

 

“We will,” I interject.

 

His shoulders droop and he studies me. “If stubborn were what were needed to save the day, I surmise you are just stubborn enough.” He looks at each of us in turn. “Unfortunately, you need to be realistic. Even with these baubles, the task of defeating The Empress and saving anyone other than yourselves is monumental. You are destined to fail.”

 

And with that vote of confidence and a gesture suggesting what he was about to do, he pours several feet of delicate gold chain into Kate’s waiting hands. It’s so heavily tarnished only peeks of dull gold give away what it is actually made from. Taran doesn’t direct it, but the chain winds itself neatly into her palms like a thin snake. The coils stack themselves stiffly, showing no danger of collapsing as normal chain would do. The last thing to leave Taran’s hands is about four inches long. It’s utilitarian design stands out against the fragile-looking chain, not only due to the green cast. The shape is somewhat familiar. It settles itself atop the loops of chain Kate holds and after a second I realize what the tubular item is. A key. But nothing like we use today. It’s, what do they call it? A skeleton key. It’s attached to the chain by a wide loop on one end and the other end has three teeth, two on one side near the tip and further up the shaft sits a third on the opposite side. Every inch of the algal green surface is splotched with white patches.

 

We all stare at it a moment. Louis bows his head to Taran. “This invaluable gift will be returned to you. I so swear.”

 

But all trace of softness has left Taran. He’s the much-feared mogul once more. “Your word is vow and I will hold you to it, vampire.” He slams the lid on the chest and kicks it unceremoniously out of his way as Louis wordlessly inclines his head. Taran ignores Louis, narrowing his gaze at Emma.

 

I’m not sure where it came from but in one hand he holds a flat disc that seems to be made of a whitish matte clay, and is small enough to fit in his palm. For some reason, I don’t want to look away from it. For a second I get a sense of something foreign and hungry. Before I can make heads or tails of what I’m sensing, it grows and transforms before my eyes into a sturdy cup. Fragrant steam curls from the top. Rich chocolate assails my senses and my stomach rumbles. And I’d know that cup anywhere. It’s my favorite purple mug I bought at a small mountain pottery on a trip with my dad when I was a teenager. How did it get here? Why is Taran holding it? I reach for it, but Taran dances out of the way, tsking playfully and shaking his head.

 

“Now now, pesky as I may find your intrusion, this isn’t for you.” Taran dances back another step and lays his other hand over the top of my mug and suddenly it’s...gone. His hands are clasped so closely together my mug can’t be there. His eyes sparkle with humor. Kate makes a small disappointed sound and I realize she also stepped forward to grab whatever he’s holding. “As you two have just proven, this is a very special thing I hold here. Much as I would like to believe the three of you heroins are goddess-blessed, not one of you can convince me of your battle prowess. So this is my final gift.”

 

“What is it?” Kate asks.

 

“There is no good word in your language to encompass all of what this is. It is...Want. Yearning. But also Satisfaction.” His eyes flash with something wild and dangerous. “Entrapment.”

 

Louis sniffs. “The perfect weapon. Snared by the very thing which you desire.”

 

A chill runs down my spine. I swear I can feel that thing pulse between his fingers with something...not evil, but not quite good either. “Define entrapment. How does it work?”

 

Taran’s smile is feral. “It captures your attention. Then it winnows out something you crave. It sifts around until it finds what you wouldn’t be able to avoid reaching out for, that thing you simply must touch.”

 

Excited wonder fills Emma’s voice. “Implied will!”

 

“You have the way of it. It becomes whatever it thinks you cannot stand not to touch. And when you touch, willingly, without coercion, you belong to it.” He stretches out his arms to her, both hands still shielding the object. Emma takes a step backwards. Taran drops his arms and frowns at her. “I would not give a harmful gift to my own. It doesn’t work on our kind. It wasn’t made that way. Besides, it does not work when it touches. It must be touched.”

 

Emma steps forward and reaches a hand out.

 

Taran’s eyes shift to where Kate and I are still standing shoulder to shoulder. “Keep it covered if you don’t want your friends to disappear. And don’t worry about damaging it. It cannot be destroyed by any but he who formed it.”

 

I shudder when Emma eagerly draws it close to her body.

 

“Define disappear,” Kate insists.

 

When Emma looks up, excitement makes her eyes bright. “Disappeared, as in anyone who touches it is...gone. Not dead, just...on another plane. Daddy told me about this when I was a little girl but I never thought I’d actually see it, much less hold it. It’s made from clay of his homeland. Daddy’s father made it before they came to this world. He passed it to Daddy.”

 

Her eyes widen and she looks to Taran. “He told me he gave it to his little brother the last time he saw him. To protect him.”

Emma slips the relic into her pocket. For a long second they stare at each other, niece and uncle. First and second generation fae sharing a moment. Emma beams at him. A hungry emotion crosses Taran’s face, too fast for me to define fully. It’s gone by the time he inclines his head to her.

​

“And so it did. Now, you have a heroin’s journey before you. And there is a debt I must repay.”

 

He sucks in a breath through his nose and his face shifts to the emotionless mask he walked in wearing. As if nothing sentimental had happened here, Taran turns on his heel and starts barking orders. For a second I’m not sure who he’s talking to. It isn’t until the two men at the door stiffen that I remember they were here. They must have retreated there after they delivered the chest. I hadn’t given them a second thought until this moment. I shudder. They could have shot us all and I never would have seen it coming.

 

“You need not worry, mademoiselle,” Louis murmurs in my ear, “I knew where they were.”

 

Before Taran reaches the door, he calls over his shoulder. “Your time is up. You have five minutes to vacate the premises or I will have you forcibly removed.” I catch sight of at least a half dozen well-armed people waiting outside before he slams the door shut behind him.

 

It takes us a little more than five minutes to get ourselves back in the plane and backing out of the hangar. I keep my eyes peeled for them, but I’m disappointed to find no sign of Dex or Janelle, much less Beatrice.

 

Louis stares at his phone. I pull mine out of my pocket but I don’t have any messages. I meet Louis’s eyes and he shakes his head, worry creasing his brow. “I confess I did not anticipate continuing on without either of them.”

 

“What do you think we should do?” Emma asks.

 

“Is there someplace else we can land to wait for them?” I interject before Louis can answer her.

​

I can see in his eyes that he suspects trouble. “Non, I am afraid we cannot risk it, mademoiselle.” He turns to Emma. “I think we must continue on. Our mission is the same, with or without Dex and Janelle.”

 

“But they must be in trouble,” I protest. “Shouldn’t we try to find them?”

 

“I know you’re worried about your friends, but I’m tired of sitting around doing nothing while Mac…” Kate scrubs her hands over her face. “Look, all I’m saying is—”

 

My stomach flip flops. I know exactly how she feels. “No, no. I know. I know.” I drag my gaze from her to Emma and note my barely restrained panic is in her eyes, too. “We can’t keep putting it off. There’s no guarantee we’ll be any better off with their help. She overpowered…” I don’t have to finish that thought. We’re all very much aware what we’re up against. A pulse of heat and gentle vibration against my hip accompanies a comforting wave. I pat the sheath. Thank you, Cadeau. Is it okay if I call you that? The answering vibration reminds me of Darcy’s purr. She must like me calling her gift in French.

 

Louis blows out a breath. “D’accord, I know you are right. And we do have Marcus and his pack. But we will need more help if we are to find those who have been taken. I shall instruct the pilot of our destination.”

 

“Which is?” Emma asks him.

 

“We have one stop to make, then our eventual destination is Roanoke Island, or what remains of it today.”

 

Kate frowns. “Wait, I’ve been to the Lost Colony. My parents took me to the show there one summer. Other than that and a few markers signifying the archeologic dig, there’s nothing there. What are you expecting to find?”

 

Louis pats Kate’s shoulder. “My dear, one thing you surely must know by now is that everything is not what it seems as it meets the eye.” He pauses at the door separating us from the cockpit. “The spot is nearly sacred to The Empress. She would not leave it unattended.”

 

I choke back my panic watching him disappear through the doorway. It’s too reminiscent of Nicolette. But this isn’t that awful night. Unlike Nicolette, he’ll be back.

 

I look up to catch Emma watching me. I glance at the door one more time. “Just remembering…”

 

“Yeah,” Kate says. “It made my stomach squirm to see him go in there, too.”

 

Emma sighs. “Yeah.”