I frowned and even that hurt my face. Damn it, I was going to need to double up on the Advil tonight. “Which actually worked quite well, seeing as Eammon buggered off.”

“Eammon and Crash have fought before,” Tom said. “Similar backgrounds. They don’t get along on good days.”

That helped a little, but I doubted it was the whole answer. “So . . . but I’m guessing they’re not both leprechauns?”

Louis shook his finger at me. “You are too smart. How did you know he’s a leprechaun?”

Okay, now that it had been confirmed, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Leprechauns were devious little monsters. They could be good luck, but they could also steal your luck from you if they wanted to. “I am right?”

Louis stroked his narrow chin. “You are far too good at guessing. That will get you into trouble when one day you guess, but are very, very wrong.”

“One day,” I said as I started up the stairs, “but that one day is not today.”

13

Eammon did not speak to me the next week except the day after my first night training, which was fine because even speaking hurt muscles I hadn’t known I possessed.

“You can keep the daggers.”

“Spoke to Crash, did you?” I asked.

Eammon glared at me. “He said you were in his bed.”

I grinned. “Yup, had my clothes off too, Dad. You going to ground me now?” Eammon’s eyes about bugged out, and I leaned down to give him the talking-to that he needed. “Eammon, you don’t get a say about my love life, or lack thereof. You can complain about anything that pertains to this job, but the rest of my life is off limits.”

“When you are humping the leg of a . . .” He clamped his mouth shut and then continued on. “. . . a man with a bad attitude, that pertains to this job! He is a sometime customer.” He jabbed a finger toward my shoulder. I took a step back, not because I was afraid, but because Eammon clearly knew what not-human thing Crash was and had almost let it slip. Interesting. Nor did I fancy a poke in the shoulder. “You do not need to owe him ten percent of your bounty. The weapons are good, but they’re not worth that. He took advantage of you.”

I opened my mouth to say, “He can take advantage of me anytime,” but was yanked away by Luke, who pushed me toward Sarge. Luke was shaking so hard I wasn’t sure how he was even still standing.

“I can’t spar with him,” he said.

And that was the end of my conversation with Eammon and the start of my werewolf obedience lessons with Luke. “He’s just a big dog. So, don’t make eye contact unless you want to challenge him, use a firm voice, don’t turn and run.” I rattled through some dog-training basics. “And when he’s bad, use a choke collar.” I grinned and Sarge did not.

Neither did Luke. “How do I get close enough to get a choke collar on a werewolf?”

I grinned at Luke and pushed him forward. “Offer him a treat.”

That first week, I spent my evenings reading through the book I’d spent so much of my money on. Reading through Gran’s handwriting, remembering slowly the things she’d taught me when I was a child. Which shadows I should fear, and which I should befriend.

Jinx was in there as a potential friend and sometime ally. Oops. I snorted when I found a particularly interesting passage about the trickster. “Loves Charlotte’s Web, does she?”

The memories this city stirred; I knew that I should probably be more afraid of some of the things that I’d told myself for years were just my childhood imaginations. I knew any normal, rational woman would be terrified or feel like she was losing her mind. But I couldn’t seem to get enough of this shadow world, soaking in the words, taking my own notes in a simple lined notebook I’d found in the closet.

Part of me was looking for a way to help out with Himself and the sale of the house. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that he’d had some sort of magical help to make my signature be on papers I would never have signed. But did he know? Did he know that there was someone helping him knowingly? “Son of a bitch, did you actually use magic after making me give it up? After letting me think I was crazy?” A whole new level of anger surged through me at that thought that he’d gaslit me all those years.

I couldn’t help it, I sent him a text.

You ducking bastard! Magic isn’t real, huh? That’s why you got someone to magic up that paperwork? Duck you and your ducking friends who helped you screw me over!

I hit send, and then turned my phone off. If he could play dirty, so could I, and I was going to find something to help me in Gran’s book, I had to.

But so far, though, the best spell I could find was one that made the recipient’s breath smell like death warmed over. Gran’s words, not mine.

Morning of the eighth day, I was up and making breakfast by two in the afternoon. Bacon and eggs with some wilted Swiss chard. Corb strolled out. “Smells good.”

“Thanks, there’s extra if you want it.” I pointed at the half-full frying pan. He picked up the pan and ate straight out of it.

I eyed him up. “You look nothing like Himself.”

Corb paused and a grin washed over his face. “Thanks. It’s a compliment to hear that I don’t look like my balding, overweight cousin who is a complete moron.”

I snorted. “Not so dumb. He got me good.”

“Yeah, he did.” Corb took another bite. “Something else is going on with you. I get that you want to start fresh, and I get that you want your gran’s house back, but shouldn’t you be able to hire a lawyer?”

“With what money? Do you see piles of money in my underwear drawer?” Which was funny, seeing as I didn’t have a drawer. I waved my fork around. “Besides, I’m uniquely qualified for this work. You must have realized that by now.” A part of me thought the answer would be in Gran’s book. Something, maybe a memory, but hope said to keep looking. To keep digging through the pages and I’d find it.

He shrugged. “Maybe. I . . . I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Too late for that.” I took a bite of bacon and chewed it. “Nowhere to go from here but up.”

“Or under a gravestone,” Corb pointed out.

We ate in quiet for all of thirty seconds. “What is it about Crash that is so bad? I mean, he was kind to me, far kinder than Feish, who tried to give me a teacup poisoned with a ramped-up version of Ex-Lax.”

Corb scooped up the last of the food in the frying pan. “He’s strong in his . . . abilities, let’s call them, and has very little to do with the community other than to make weapons. And he’s old, so he’s got a lot of knowledge and could do plenty of good, but he doesn’t. He just shuts everyone out. That you even saw him is shocking, to be honest. I’ve never met him, and I’ve been here for almost fifteen years.”

“He knew my gran,” I said, thinking about what Crash had told me. “He talked about her like they were old friends.”

Corb put the pan into the sink of soapy water and I cringed. Damn it, I’d been seasoning that pan all week. “Look, if Crash likes you, that’s not a bad thing. It’s only a bad thing if you get on his bad side. I’m guessing he doesn’t know you’re working with Eammon?”

I shook my head. “Not working with him directly. He knows I’m with the Hollows Group.”

Corb went on. “Then you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” I said. “This is the nicest you’ve been to me since I got here.”

“I was trying to make you leave, but you seem to have taken root. And I won’t turn down a few good meals here and there.” He grinned, and there he was, the Corb I’d first thought was pretty nice despite the reputation Himself had told me about. Then again, Himself didn’t like my gran and she was amazing. Maybe Corb would turn out okay too.

Corb left me in the kitchen, and a moment later, the shower came on in his bathroom. Which left me sitting there alone, stewing in my thoughts. In the time I’d been here, I hadn’t even gone by to check on Gran’s old place. Mostly because it would be torturous to stand outside a place that had been my home and not be able to go in, to know a stranger owned it.

But the time had come to put on my big girl panties and check the place out. Maybe I could do that before training started. Yes, that was what I’d do. Catch one of the trolleys and head to West Harris Lane. Check on the house, see if the For-Sale sign was up.

Himself had said he’d sell it fast, and I had no doubt he meant it. He’d sell it for nothing just to spite me.

You’d think I’d been the one to end the marriage. I seriously didn’t understand him. Anger curled through me. I mean, I didn’t have the funds to maintain a home either even if I was able to buy it.

I found myself hesitating over whether or not I should take my two knives. I wouldn’t need them, unless, of course, I ran into another trickster type like Jinx. Call me crazy if you want, but luck hadn’t exactly been on my side lately despite hanging out with a leprechaun. I slipped the knives inside their sheaths, of course—I wasn’t a savage—and then into my bag. Not that I’d been allowed to use them. Nope, Eammon had made sure of that.

But I could aim the pointy ends at a monster. I could do that much, and really, I needed to just start practicing at home. Maybe I could find some sort of yoga-with-knives on the YouTube or the Google. I sighed, slid the purse over my shoulder, and a mere two trolley rides later, I stood in front of my gran’s house. The For-Sale sign was indeed on the lawn of my childhood home. The brick was streaked in places where the water had run, and the yard looked overgrown to most, but I could pick out Gran’s favorite plants that she’d used to make her different teas. I grabbed the sign and yanked it out of the ground, holding it in one hand as I entered the gate and let my hands drift over the plants, naming them quietly under my breath.