He heard Emily on the other side, peeking through the peephole. After only a second’s hesitation, she opened it with a smile. “Brother Gideon, what a wonderful surprise!” She swept her hand toward her living room. “Come on in.”
He beamed. “Thank you.”
“Please, have a seat. Can I get you something? A cup of tea, maybe? I was just heating up water for some.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” He sat down on the couch.
She went into the kitchen and clanked around. Then she reappeared with two cups of steaming water, a tea bag in each. Smiling, she handed a cup to him and sat down in a chair. “So why have you stopped by?”
He played with his tea bag and tried not to feel anxious. “I was just following up on finding a way to repay you for going above and beyond the call of duty for the Phaendir.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“I want to do it,” he said quickly. “It’s not on behalf of the Phaendir. It’s . . . personal.”
“Oh.” She blushed and looked down into her tea with a small smile on her face.
“I asked you before about antique jewelry. Do you collect it?”
Please, say you do. Please, please, say that you do, Emily.
She looked up. “I really don’t.”
Gideon’s hand tightened on his cup. He was going to have to make that phone call after all. Something dark and sharp twisted in his gut. He’d been right to suspect her after all. Damn it.
Damn it!
“But I did inherit some from my grandmother Martha, who liked to collect it.” She smiled. “Some really valuable and unique pieces. Oh, it’s beautiful stuff. I should probably put them in a safe-deposit box, come to think of it.”
Gideon relaxed.
Thank you, Labrai.
“So, if jewelry isn’t an option, how can I show you my thanks for all you’ve done?”
She took a sip of tea and appeared to sink deep into thought. “Well, I do love a nice red wine from the Côtes du Rhône. Maybe you could buy me a bottle—”
He laughed. “That’s hardly enough to say thank—”
“—and you could come over and help me drink it one night?” She smiled.
Gideon snapped his suddenly dry mouth shut. “That would be wonderful.”
She beamed at him and his heart skipped. “Great. We have that settled, then.”
“Yes,” he murmured into his teacup, totally pleased with himself. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d bumbled his way into a date with Emily, but he wasn’t complaining. “So, did you have a nice visit with your mother?”
“I did.” She nodded. “Very rejuvenating after such a stressful few weeks in Piefferburg.”
“I’m told you intend to reenter Piefferburg now that you’ve returned from your leave.”
She looked at him, eyes sparkling. “Yes! It’s so exciting! I figured, you know, since I already have an established place there, I’d go back and see what else I can uncover.”
“Very admirable of you.”
They finished their tea, making small talk, until Gideon decided it was time to leave. He practically floated back to headquarters, where he planned to catch up on some paperwork.
Still musing about the jewelry, he wondered where her grandmother Martha had managed to obtain such a rare piece as the pearl pendant. He wondered if Emmaline even knew she had a fae piece in her collection. It would be interesting if he could dig up some information about such pieces of jewelry and subtly bring it up while they drank wine together. He could impress her with his knowledge and she would remember the pearl pendant in her possession. She would run to get it from her bedroom . . . and he would follow.
Ah, and his imagination should stop there while he was at the office.
Had her grandmother come from Ireland, perhaps? Interesting question. Martha’s maiden name might give him a clue.
It was late in the evening and he was one of the few people in the darkened building. There would be no one to hassle him if he went down to the records room and took a quick peek at Emmaline’s personnel records.
He walked down to the office in the basement and flipped on the fluorescent overhead lights then headed to the proper filing cabinet. In some ways the Phaendir were still old-fashioned. They still kept paper records of all their employees.
Finding the right file, he flipped it open and turned the pages to the information on her family. The Phaendir did a more in-depth background check than most employers did, considering the sensitive nature of their business. Now, just to find ...
“Huh.”
Gideon frowned down at the paper that listed the names of her grandmothers. She had a Beatrice and a Caroline. No Martha. He frowned a little more. Beatrice and Caroline were not even close to Martha. Nor was Martha short for Beatrice or Caroline. Gideon replayed the conversation with Emmaline in his head again. Yes, she’d definitely said her grandmother’s name was Martha.
Could the information be wrong?
Clutching the file, Gideon headed to his office and turned his computer on. A search with their resources online should clear this up. He would just have to delve a little deeper into her history to figure it out. He started tapping away.
Fifteen minutes later and he flopped back against his chair.
Beatrice and Caroline were correct. There was no Martha. What was more, there was no mention of any Martha anywhere in her immediate family.
Gideon rubbed his chin, trying to come up with an explanation for why Emily didn’t know her own grandmother’s name.
He came up blank.
After several moments of dark glowering, he reached for the phone.
“ARE
you certain you want to go back again?” Gideon watched her with his mild brown eyes that would have seemed innocuous in any other man’s head.
She adjusted her pack, slung over one arm. It jostled her glamour-hidden bow. “I’m sure, Gideon, but thank you for your concern. I think I’ve found my calling with this kind of work. It’s frightening but also exhilarating. And I love that I’m helping the Phaendir so significantly. Have you begun to follow the lead in Wales?”
“The manure farm? Yes, of course we have. The location is slightly . . . unfortunate.”
“Yes.” She tried to look grave. Once they figured out the manure farm was just a stinky dead end, Emily Millhouse was going to have to disappear forever.
Of course, that wouldn’t be a problem. As soon as she stepped through those gates, Emily Millhouse
would
disappear forever. Emmaline Siobhan Keara Gallagher was going to disappear, too, at least from the human world.
She’d put the piece in her pocket and used glamour to conceal it—she could disguise anything touching her body, as she did her crossbow. Her pocket was by far the safest place for it . . . as long as they didn’t decide to strip-search her.
Calum and David were already back home. They’d all left the day after the fireworks. She’d returned to Phaendir headquarters as soon as her appointed leave was up, still with many unanswered questions. They were no closer to finding out who the rogue fae woman was, why she’d done what she done, and whether she’d been working alone or with others.
The biggest question on all of their minds was how the rogue had found out about the piece to begin with. How had she known where to go? How had she known whom to target in her bid for the piece? They were certain she hadn’t been aligned with the Phaendir, but that was all they knew. Clearly there were more players in the game than the HFF, the fae—or even the Phaendir—were aware of.
“And we are grateful for your help,” Gideon finished with an oily smile.
“Thank you.”
Gideon’s eyes sparkled with sudden unexpected malice. “Would you mind if we searched your possessions?”
A little jolt of shock went through her. Her steady, bright smile slipped a little before she caught it. “Search my possessions going into Piefferburg? Is that some new regulation?”
“You could say that.”
He was suspicious of her
.
Really, really suspicious
. She’d thought she’d successfully navigated through all of that. She looked to the gates and cold dread fisted in her stomach.
Oh, Danu, no.
She hadn’t gone through hell to get this piece just to have it taken from her five feet from the finish line.
“Where’s Brother Maddoc?” she asked as sweetly as she could. “Shouldn’t he be here, too?”
“He’s on his way,” Gideon answered in a diamond-hard voice. It sounded a bit like he was clenching his teeth. Also, she noted with unease, Emily’s womanly powers of distraction and persuasion didn’t seem to be working on him right now. How odd. What had happened to change that?
That cold fist in her stomach got a little tighter and a smidgen colder.
“So. Your bag?” Gideon held out a hand.
A smile flickered over her lips. “Of course, but I have to admit I’m a little offended to think you believe I’m bringing some kind of illegal contraband into Piefferburg. What could you possibly think I might have, by the way?”
“I’m afraid that’s not information I’m at liberty to reveal,” he replied, taking her bag. “And I’m sorry you’re offended by our actions, but we can never be too careful.” His gaze met hers and held. “We are talking about the very fate of the world, you know.”
“Of course.”
He set her backpack down on the ground, unzipped it, and began methodically laying the contents onto the grass. Her heart beat a little faster. Any normal person might check her belongings but not ask for a strip search. Gideon was not a normal person.
Just as he’d laid the last item onto the ground and had turned his attention to possible secret compartments in the bag itself, he said the words that chilled all the water in her body. “You have no grandmother named Martha.”
“What?” She blinked and took a step backward.
Martha
. Yes, she’d mentioned her grandmother’s name was Martha back at her apartment. Sweet Danu, had she gotten it wrong? Had Gideon checked?
Gideon looked up at her, his hands splayed on the objects of her pack spread out on the grass. His face was made of malevolence. “You heard me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course my grandmother’s name is Martha.” She gave a laugh. “I would know the name of my own—”
He leapt up, grabbed her wrists, and gave her a sharp tug forward into his body. His face was an inch from hers.
“Stop lying.”
Just then Brother Maddoc came striding down the path, gravel crunching under his boots. At the sound of his approach, Gideon immediately released her and took a step back. “Brother Gideon, what are you doing?”
“He’s checking my bag for any contraband I might be carrying into Piefferburg,” Emmaline answered for him.
“You’re what?”
Maddoc turned an interesting shade of purple. Oh, this was going to be fun.
Gideon stood with the empty bag in his hand. “Given recent events, I thought it best. We can’t be too careful.”
Brother Maddoc went from purple to scarlet. “Labrai damn you and your half-baked conspiracy theories, Brother Gideon! You put her bag back together and apologize to her. If we can’t trust someone like Emily, who can we trust?”
A regular person would not have noticed the white-knuckled grip on her backpack, the tense set of Gideon’s shoulders, the subtle clench of his jaw, or the twitch in his left eye. They would only see the smooth, sheepish smile Gideon gave his superior along with the easy answer, “Of course, Brother Maddoc, I meant no offense to Emily. I am simply, as always, looking out for the best interests of the human race.”
“Put. Her. Bag. Back. Together.” Brother Maddoc turned toward her and began apologizing.
Her eyes still on Gideon, she glimpsed a moment of perfect, bone-chilling violent intention enter the Phaendir’s eyes as he stared at Maddoc, tingeing his expression dark before he knelt and put all her things back into her pack.
Gideon rose and handed it to her. “Be well, Emily, and I wish you much luck uncovering more information. You’ve done a brilliant job so far.”
“Thank you, Brother Gideon,” she replied frostily. Then she leaned forward and pecked Brother Maddoc on the cheek. “You take care of yourself.”
It was all calculated, of course, to drive Gideon insane. Plus, she was pretty sure this would be the last time she ever saw Maddoc alive.
There were dark and rocky times ahead for the fae.
She turned and walked toward the gates, allowing herself one small smile of victory. The second piece of the
bosca fadbh
would soon be in the hands of the fae.
In a few moments they would be one step closer to freedom. By the look in Gideon’s eyes, it appeared it was coming none too soon.
GIDEON
stood staring at the closing doors of the gates of Piefferburg with rage churning in his gut. Brother Maddoc had turned and walked away without another word as soon as Emily had said good-bye. Disrespectful. But that was all right: Maddoc wouldn’t matter soon.
All his instincts were screaming at him that something was not right. He’d been trying to stall her for as long as he could to find out if his intuition was correct.
His cell phone rang. He gritted his teeth. The gates had just locked. If Brother Maddoc hadn’t interfered . . .
Flipping his phone open, he growled, “Yes?”
He listened for several moments, then closed the phone and clenched it in his hand so hard he heard the plastic casing crack. The doors were closed now. She was gone.
And she was fae.
A primal scream of rage and frustration tore at his throat, wanting to free itself. He tamped it down with effort—muscles straining, face reddening, veins popping, tendons in his neck tight.
A fucking fae
. Undercover in the Phaendir for the last five years. Her real name was Emmaline. The manure farm was literally and figuratively a bunch of shit. She’d probably gone into Piefferburg for her own reasons, reasons that were very likely connected to the
bosca fadbh
.