I loved Circle Scapegrace, and I was happy living with Wanda in Haven Hollow. But still, it wasn’t how I thought my life would have gone. Or how it would have ended, for that matter.

  Red-headed witches were supposed to be agents of change. We were supposed to shake things up. Well, mission accomplished, I guessed?

  I didn’t know how long I stood there, mired in a really unfortunate bout of self-pity, but soon I noticed that the moon had shifted in the sky, and the shadows stretched long and lean away from me when the sound of angry whispers reached me.

  I perked up, turning my head, trying to figure out where the argument was coming from. And it was an argument—of that I had no doubt. Whoever was arguing, they were trying to keep their voices low, but it was the kind of whisper argument when you’re actually yelling, even if you think you’re trying to be stealthy.

  I crept along, keeping myself in the shadows of the wall, until I came to the back of the ice cream shop I’d seen earlier. The rear door, one of those big rolling metal ones, was raised. Inside was a white, refrigerated truck, and in front of the door, two figures were standing there, bickering.

  One of them was a short man with a fringe of wispy white hair. He was dressed in slacks and a vest over his crisp dress shirt, and he was wearing (honest to goodness) suspenders—like he’d forgotten what century he was in. He might have looked a bit like Santa Claus, complete with the little round glasses, if someone had sawed Santa off at the knees and claimed about a foot of his height.

  The Santa guy was clearly flustered, mopping at his face with a handkerchief, obviously unhappy about what was being said to him, but I didn’t pay much attention to the man, because the person arguing with him was Cattleya.

  I froze, not expecting the Autumn noble to have stuck around Jinx Junction after her meeting with Fox. She was dressed, immaculately as ever, in a sheath dress the color of corn silk, with her leather boots coming up almost to her knees. Cattleya’s amber hair was pulled back from her face and left to spill down her back in a high ponytail, like a waterfall that hung nearly to her tailbone. Her lovely face was as icy and remote as a cemetery angel as she glared down at the poor man in front of her.

  I crept a little closer, wondering what it was that had ticked her off so badly. But it was the man who was speaking, still sweating and still trying to hide it. Was she intimidating him as part of her reconnaissance for the Autumn Court? Who knew. Maybe this was what she did on a day-to-day basis.

  “I can’t, I don’t lend it out. I need it, besides…”

  “Besides what?” she insisted, sounding none too happy.

  “How would I transport my stock in this weather without it? It can’t be done. It just can’t.”

  Cattleya stared. She didn’t say anything more. She didn’t move. She didn’t twitch. She didn’t blink. Just fixed her basilisk stare on the shorter man, and waited.

  I’d actually seen that look before. My Aunt Celestine had been a master of it. She’d just pin whoever was currently in her bad graces with a look like that, and then she’d watch them squirm until they were confessing to whatever it was they thought she wanted to hear.

  The guy did his best, but he wasn’t made of the same diamond hard self-interest as most witches were, and after another fifteen seconds or so, he was starting to fold like soggy cardboard. Even from as far away as I was, I could see the beads of sweat dotting his brow as he mopped at it furiously.

  “I can’t,” he said again, and even to me, his voice sounded weak. The last buzzing of a fly already wrapped up in the spider’s web. “I really can’t. My product… At these temperatures, it won’t last. You must understand.”

  Cattleya kept her silence for another few seconds, letting the poor guy squirm until I thought he might actually start crying. Then she smiled, and somehow, that was so much worse than the silence had been.

  “It’s a very reasonable request,” she said in a low murmur that still somehow managed to sound like a threat. “And I’ve offered fair compensation. More than fair, really. Generous.” Hmm, so not something to do with spying for the Autumn Court, it seemed?

  The last word trailed off into a hiss, and the man quaked in his shoes.

  Cattleya took a half step forward, looming in her heeled boots. “I’m afraid I must insist. It won’t be a terrible inconvenience to you. Besides, one day of transport isn’t worth so much that you’d deny my request?”

  The guy did a whole-body flinch, like she’d just pulled a weapon on him. What the heck was going on? What was it that Cattleya wanted from him so badly that she was willing to threaten him for it? Was this some task Uncle Fox had set her up to? But why? Bullying random… gnomes? I was pretty sure that’s what the guy was—a gnome. The wisps of hair were a good giveaway, more like candy floss than hair.

  But as to whether Uncle Fox had set Cattleya up—well, it just didn’t seem like his style to strong arm people into doing what he wanted them to do. He was the more direct sort. Like, he’d been really set on honoring his betrothal to Taliyah. And, yes, he’d pushed really hard for it. Done everything he could to convince Taliyah to give it a shot and unite their kingdoms—to save their people from war, and save Winter from a usurper Queen who wasn’t afraid of getting her hands bloody.

  But Uncle Fox hadn’t like tried to kidnap Taliyah or anything. I was pretty sure he hadn’t, anyway. Maybe I’d ask Taliyah more about that, if I ever survived this horrible Hollow. But if Taliyah was willing to tie the knot with Maverick, she must have been worried about something going really, really wrong with Fox. Hmm…

  The point was, something hinky was going on here. But I didn’t know what, or why, or even what I should do about it.

  As I watched, the gnome caved, just like I knew he would. It had always been a forgone conclusion, but he’d held out longer than I’d given him credit for.

  “Fine,” he squeaked. “Fine. It will be ready, as you’ve said. I’ll leave the keys inside. Just… please be careful with it?”

  The gnome twisted to look at the front of the truck parked in what I realized was a small bay garage.

  Why would Cattleya need to borrow a truck from a shopkeeper? Jinx Junction wasn’t exactly bustling. It wasn’t anything like Haven Hollow, that was for sure. Maybe they didn’t have a local car rental place, and she needed to transport some furniture or something? In a refrigerated truck?

  Okay, yeah, that didn’t make any sense at all, even inside my own head.

  She was a faerie, a High Sidhe, even. That was some serious magical mojo she was packing. Even I, having no idea about my heritage and even less training on how to use it, had managed to dip into the Fae realm and back again, travelling between worlds. Uncle Fox could turn himself into a swirl of Autumn leaves to get around, when he felt like showing off and wasn’t playing human for the Monster Hunter’s Guild. So, why the heck would a Lady of the Autumn Court, one of Prince Reynard’s trusted allies, one of the few spies he had on the outside, need a freaking truck?

  Cattleya didn’t acknowledge the gnome’s plea. She just made a face like she smelled something unpleasant and then stormed off down the road. I watched her go until she was swallowed up by shadows that were dark enough that even I couldn’t see through them.

  The gnome man stood there, trembling like he was caught in the middle of a gale, instead of a fairly pleasant summer night. He looked like someone could have knocked him over with a robust sneeze.

  I felt for the guy, I did. But curiosity was also eating me alive. This was maybe a chance for me to pry into just what Uncle Fox was up to, and trust or not, patience or not, I had to at least try asking.

  So, once I was sure Cattleya was gone, and not about to pop back up like a monster from a shlocky horror movie, I stepped away from the wall and walked over to where the gnome was wringing his handkerchief over his knuckles like he wanted to rip it into pieces.

  “Hey, are you okay?” I asked.

  The gnome shrieked, leapt a good foot in the air, and spun around to face me in a move that looked like something Hellcat would pull.

  The sound made me jump. I hadn’t been trying to be sneaky. I’d even scuffed my shoes a couple times, trying not to take him by surprise. Surprising supernatural creatures could go very, very badly for someone, and while gnomes were hardly physical powerhouses, they did have an industrious kind of magic that I didn’t really want to tangle with for so stupid a reason.

  He sputtered, words tripping over themselves in their attempt to rush out of his mouth and none of them made any sense. He looked me up and down, and somehow, got even paler. We were past chalk, and heading somewhere close to gray now. It wasn’t a good look. Could gnomes have heart problems? Because I didn’t know what passed as health care in Jinx Junction, but I didn’t think it would do him much good.

  “Who… what are… you can’t just…” The gnome flapped his arms around, shaking his head so hard that I thought for a second that his glasses would fly right off his face.

  “Are you okay?” I repeated again.

  “No, no, absolutely not,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean—yes, I’m okay.”

  “You don’t seem okay.”

  He was still shaking his head. “I won’t...” Then he crossed his arms over his stocky chest and gritted his teeth. “I’m not getting caught up in this. I refuse!”

  And with that, the gnome kind of… poofed. Just vanished in a cloud that smelled vaguely of burnt sugar, and I was left standing alone in the middle of the street outside the ice cream shop.

  Well. So much for that.

  But… the big industrial door was still open on the bay garage. And the man hadn’t said that I couldn’t take a look around. That might not fly with the sheriff’s office, but I figured I could take a little peek, as long as I didn’t get caught.

  A quick glance around told me that there wasn’t anyone else on the street. I did my best to listen, straining my ears, but I couldn’t hear anything like a pulse in my general area, though the beat from the music at the tavern was a steady rhythm. For the moment at least, it looked like the coast was clear.

  Trying to keep my movements casual, I sidled over to the open garage door and took a peek into the darkened bay. Mostly, it was exactly what I thought I’d find in the backroom of a small-town ice cream parlor. There were industrial freezers lining the walls, a door that I assumed led to the store front, and a door that probably led to wherever they made their ice cream. And the truck.

  Well, ‘truck’ might have been overselling it. It was more like a cube van, with a very obvious refrigeration unit. It was definitely what Cattleya had been after, since you didn’t need keys to a freezer, and it didn’t sound like she wanted to borrow the store. It was clear she was after the van.

  I just didn’t have the faintest clue as to why.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Astrid?”

  I blinked and realized I’d been lost in thought and staring at the playing cards in my hand long enough for the silence to have gotten weird.

  “Oh. Sorry. Um, I’ll take three cards.”

  Lorcan pursed his lips and leaned back into his chair, tapping his hand against the ankle of his crossed leg.

  “Will you?” he asked with a smirk.

  I grimaced. “Um,” I started. “Isn’t this the time when we discard?”

  “No, Sweetling,” he answered on a chuckle. “In no small part because we’re playing Go Fish.”

  I sagged back into my chair, slumping until I almost slid right out of it and onto the floor. I was the worst. Lorcan had wrapped up his work and offered to do something with me, but I’d been too spooked and frustrated with the night so far. Between the witch posse, and the weird conversation I’d overheard between Cattleya and that gnome, I hadn’t wanted to go back into town. So, we’d ended up in Lorcan’s room, playing Go Fish. I’d chosen to come to Lorcan’s room so we wouldn’t have to deal with the running commentary of Mocha and Yew. So, here Lorcan was—doing me a favor (he wasn’t exactly a play cards type of guy) and I wasn’t even paying attention.

  “Astrid, what’s wrong?” Worry thickened Lorcan’s faint brogue, the words rolling off his tongue.

  And wasn’t that a loaded question. Lorcan was trying to help, and while I could have gestured at Jinx Junction outside the window, myself, or just flapped my hands to signal that everything was wrong, I didn’t.

  Trying to explain anything about my night up to this point seemed to boil down to: “some witches were mean to me, I found a weird, damp spot in the woods, and I think Uncle Fox is keeping secrets from me.” And really, what could Lorcan say to that? There there? Okay? Duh?

  The card game was supposed to distract me from all the thoughts that were whirling around my brain. But I couldn’t seem to let go of the image of Cattleya harassing that poor gnome for a refrigerated van, of all things. It was just such a stupid thing for a Fae noble to want. She was a Lady of the Autumn Court; I was pretty sure she could keep her wine chilled all on her own. Which meant something bigger was going down, and as to what that something bigger was—I was blissfully ignorant, minus the bliss part.

  Yes, I’d considered rooting around town with Lorcan in an attempt to locate Uncle Fox and tell him what I’d overseen between Cattleya and the gnome, but Uncle Fox wasn’t exactly an easy person to locate. He was one of those people who found you—you didn’t find him. And I also wasn’t sure if he might already know what Cattleya was up to, because he might well have put her up to it. And, lastly, I really didn’t want to get the annoying lecture titled: Keep your nose out of other people’s business.

  In fact, I was getting really tired of people treating me like I didn’t understand anything. Maybe I was a new vampire, but I’d spent time with Lorcan and my cousins, enough to have an idea of what was going on with me. I wasn’t raised Fae royalty, sure. Spell, I hadn’t even known I was Fae at all until a couple months ago. But I’d still grown up in one of the most powerful and cutthroat covens in the country, so it wasn’t like I was some sheltered mortal girl who’d only just discovered supernaturals existed. I deserved better than coddling and pats on the head as I was told to run along and not worry.

  I chewed my bottom lip, careful of my teeth. The fangs had taken some getting used to. The first few days after I’d woken up dead, I kept clicking my teeth, not used to the new length. Annoying and embarrassing.

  But back to the current moment… Lorcan was just sitting there, waiting patiently. He was smart enough to keep his hand of cards tucked in against his body though, not letting me get a peep. Wanda had taught him well.

  Not that he was really interested in the card game. There was a wrinkle between Lorcan’s brows, a little crease of concern, but he didn’t push or demand I talk to him. Of course, I’d always known he had a river of patience running through him. He’d have never survived Wanda otherwise.

  I really liked Lorcan, and I was glad he’d come along with me as my guardian—in fact, I couldn’t have thought of anyone I’d have preferred to have with me. Why did I like him so much? Because he’d never treated me like I was less. He was protective, but not smothering. He just cared. And not only because he was with Wanda. Maybe that was how it started, but you didn’t uproot yourself, take a hiatus from your thriving business, and drive halfway across the country for your wife’s pseudo kid.

  The other reason I liked Lorcan was because he told it to me straight—he didn’t sugarcoat things. And that meant I could rely on whatever information he gave me. Heaving a sigh that felt like it came from my toes, I ran a hand through my hair. “So, I saw something tonight. And it’s bugging me.”

  The concern wrinkle furrowed a little deeper. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “What was troubling about what you saw?”

  I flapped my hand. “It was just weird. And not, like, normal weird. Does that make sense?”

  “No, I must admit, it does not.” The little fond smile ghosting the corner of his lips took any sting out of the comment. Lorcan sat back into his chair, the leg he had crossed bouncing lightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I did. Maybe talking it over with someone else would help me jostle something loose, like a conversation rock tumbler.

  I skipped the witch posse, and the mysterious dead circle in the woods, because while those hadn’t been great situations, they weren’t super important. At least, I didn’t think they were. I mean—Lorcan would expect that the witches wouldn’t exactly be nice to me. And with regard to the weird patch of trees that had made me think it might be a threat, well, I had no proof. It was just a feeling I’d had. But regarding that weird conversation between Cattleya and the gnome? That was more concrete.

  So, I started explaining. For the most part, I kept it simple, which wasn’t hard, since all the story required was about six sentences total. Then I slumped back into my chair, my cards resting on my leg while Lorcan thought it over.

  “That is odd,” was what he finally came out with.

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Thank you, oh elder, for your mind-blowing wisdom.”

  “Shush, you.” He tapped one long finger against the back of his cards, the corners of his mouth tugging down. “So, a Faerie noble strong armed a shopkeeper for an ice cream van? Is that, essentially, the gist of it?”

  Okay, somehow, he’d made it sound even more ridiculous. But, oh, what a mental image that made. I bit my lip to keep from grinning, imagining Cattleya handing out popsicles to a bunch of witch bitches of Jinx Junction, all while wearing her basilisk glare.

  “I think it’s fair to say that Cattleya hasn’t suddenly decided to go into the ice cream business.” I tugged at a lock of my hair, thinking hard. “So, what would she need the van for?”

  Lorcan sagged sideways into his chair, resting his chin in his hand. “At the risk of pointing out the obvious, because she needs to move something cold?”

  “That’s one option,” I said slowly, unsure. “But she has magic. And Autumn can be plenty chilly. Why not just use spells to keep whatever it is cold? Heck, she can step in and out of Faerie; why transport anything with a van at all?”