Instead, he turned his magic toward the books, certain he might find something in them that would aid with grounds security. Catherine had left all this here for a reason, including the key inside her journal for Stacy.

Rowan shoved aside his disappointment. Catherine planned it this way. This must be right.

Then why did it feel strange?

The wards slipped, and Rowan reached for the first tome. It was old. He could tell by the condition of its cover and pages. It was also the ancient-feeling magic, like that which ran through the roots of trees. The books were enchanted for preservation.

Carefully, he opened one and began to read.

“How the hell are we supposed to fix this?” Miles asked from where he stood beside Stacy, arms locked over his chest. He surveyed the destroyed kitchen with a dubious expression, glad for once he was the groundskeeper.

Kiera, standing on the other side of Stacy, replied, “With magic, of course.”

Miles whistled. “We’ll need a shit-ton of magic to put this back the way it was. Ain’t like we’re fairies with wands to wave around.”

“I am fae,” Kiera pointed out.

“Oh yeah? Where’s your wand and your wings?”

“Not that kind of fae.”

“Exactly.”

Stacy wasn’t sure if anything would get done with these two bickering like siblings, and it hadn’t helped that Miles had already consumed a full box of donuts by himself. Stacy expected a sugar crash within an hour and a dramatic eye roll from Kiera in response. It amused her. These two were fitting in already.

“I’m going to call my father and ask him to send help,” Stacy spoke up. Kiera and Miles shared a glance. They’d heard of Khan, of course, but they only knew him as the Red Dragon. Stacy held in a chuckle. Wait until they catch him watching his favorite soap opera and ordering Chinese takeout.

A voice behind Stacy drew her from her thoughts. “What the hell happened last night that turned this place into a shithole?”

The three turned to see the human woman standing in the doorway. Amy’s arms were folded, brows furrowing as she took in the kitchen. She was still in a bathrobe and appeared to have showered as soon as she was awake.

“You’re back,” Stacy greeted, relief filling her. She’d known that from seeing Amy’s car parked out front, but it still felt good to see her friend standing there. “I’ll give you one guess what happened,” she added.

“You…threw a wild party, and things got out of hand?”

“I wish,” Miles muttered.

“Werewolves.” Kiera examined her fingernails as if they were far more interesting than the woman standing before her.

Amy shook her head. “When will we be done dealing with fucking werewolves?”

Stacy admired Amy for taking the supernatural world in stride, though there was a lot she still didn’t know. Like that I’m a shifter, too, though not a wolf. Stacy wondered if being a dragon was worse.

She sighed. “My thoughts exactly. Victor sent a pack, but they’re dealt with now. Only the mess to clean up.” She motioned at their surroundings. “Amy, I want you to meet the new members of our household. Kiera Swiftshadow is our housekeeper and cook. Miles Ironwood is our groundskeeper. They’re both old friends of Rowan’s.”

Amy shook their hands, smiling. “Pleased to meet you both.”

It was obvious Kiera and Miles hadn’t spent much time around non-magic-using humans in recent years, much less humans who knew about magic and seemed okay with it. Amy acted unfazed by their presence, though Stacy knew her well enough to see she was hiding her wariness, especially toward the sidhe fae.

Kiera’s response to Amy was as mild and unreadable as always, her violet eyes shifting to dark amber. Miles, on the other hand, gave her a jovial handshake and said he thought they would become good friends.

Stacy looped her arm through Amy’s and suggested they go out into the garden so they could swap stories about last night, leaving Kiera and Miles to brainstorm ways to fix the kitchen. On the way to the back door, Amy whispered, “I like the groundskeeper, but that woman’s eyes almost made me shit my pants.”

Stacy laughed. “Wait until you see her in combat. Someone has to be scary around here.” Once, Rowan had been the scary one, but that only lasted a few days. Now, he was like a dear old uncle to her and Amy.

The women sat on a stone bench against the exterior of the house, and Stacy insisted Amy tell her story first.

Amy explained the investigation she and Spencer had conducted the previous day, skirting around the fact that they had been followed. Stacy’s face darkened, but she said nothing. Amy continued sharing what had happened at the warehouse. She tried to downplay it at first, but Stacy pulled every detail from her.

Stacy didn’t seem happy, but all she said was, “I’m glad you’re okay. Both of you.”

Amy gave a half-smile. “I’m glad Spencer went home after he dropped me off. Imagine my reaction when I saw the front hall. He would have had a ton of questions, and I doubt you would have wanted to answer them.”

“If this keeps up, Spencer will have to learn the truth,” Stacy confessed. “If you’re attacked by a werewolf…”

“Spencer will think it’s a giant, hairy man?”

“It’s not that. I want him to know how to handle one.”

Amy finished her account by informing Stacy of the files she’d found. “I haven’t looked through them yet, though. I came home and went straight to bed.”

Stacy told Amy what had gone on at the house, from the werewolves showing up to the estate’s guardians helping them fend off the attackers. Amy chuckled at the image of angry gnomes flying their fists into werewolf faces. However, she sobered by the end and was as certain as Stacy that Victor had sent the pack.

“Funny,” Amy mused. “I got an email from my boss this morning. Apparently, Victor Corbinelli is holding a gala for some art event, or so he says, this coming weekend and has invited several journalists and media outlets to attend. I don’t know what he has planned, but he wants it to be public. For word to get around. My boss wants me to go, though he was vague about whether Victor invited me specifically.”

Stacy didn’t like the sound of that. “It’s some ploy of his. No doubt he’ll be going after you and anyone else close to me.”

“Maybe this is the chance we need,” Amy replied. “A way to strike back.”

“I don’t like the idea of ‘striking’ on Victor’s territory, but maybe you’re right. Can you find out more about the event?” Stacy asked.

“I think so. I know someone who will be catering the event and will meet with me today. Spencer will be there, too. I hope to figure out more about it then. Eventually, I’ll go through those files.”

Stacy squeezed Amy’s hand. “I hate the idea of you being in danger, but I’m grateful for the work you’ve done.” She stood, sighing. “While you do that, I’ll get my house in order.” She turned her gaze to the back door. “Time to call Dad.”

CHAPTER TEN

“She should be here by now,” Amy murmured after checking the clock on her phone for what felt like the tenth time in the past fifteen minutes.

“She might be held up in traffic,” Spencer replied from where he sat in the next booth over.

Amy hadn’t wanted it to be obvious that she’d come with a bodyguard, so she and Spencer sat in separate booths with their backs to one another.

She glanced out the window at the busy New York street. Traffic was as heavy as ever. The inside of the café bustled with activity. The clatter of dishes and cutlery joined low chatter and the occasional hiss of boiling water for tea or the gurgle of a coffee machine.

Amy loved being in the city, but she didn’t miss living here. She’d take hearing birds and soft wind in the morning over cars honking and people yelling. Even the sprites who sometimes awakened her by dancing on her face were less annoying than the clamor of the city.