She shook her head. “No one has anything to do with the fanged ones. They nearly wiped out Savannah, you know. The goblins were as against them as everyone else. You could ask the court bard if you ever meet him, he knows all the stories.”

I nodded. I did know, now, that the yellow fever plague hadn’t been a disease at all, but an influx of new vampires that had killed off humans and supernaturals alike. The problem had been squashed by the rest of the shadow world, but not before many lives were lost. So why the hell would anyone want a redo?

Tapping my bag, I debated showing her the coin and, in the end, pulled it out. “Any idea why this might be important . . .”

She pulled back from it. “The stamp is that of the royal line. How did you get it?”

Well, that confirmed what Eric had told me at any rate.

“I can’t tell you,” I said. “Is it dangerous to have one?”

Bridgette put her hand out and waved it over the coin in my palm. “Dangerous? I don’t know about that. But they are . . . they aren’t just coins.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “It’s made with a specific type of magic, Breena O’Rylee. One that can be malleable. Unseelie magic flows through this coin. I can’t tell you anything more than that.” She shrugged and tucked her hands into her armpits.

I put the silver coin back into my bag.

“Thank you. I don’t know if what you’ve told me will help, but I appreciate it.” I paused, thinking about the timetable Grimm had given me for hiding the pages. “Is there something special happening in the next day or two? Like a goblin event?”

She blinked a few times. “Tomorrow night is the call of the silver moon.”

Silver moon. Where the hell had I heard that lately? I frowned. “So it’s a big deal?”

“Yes, it’s a big deal especially to the king. A new king can only be crowned on the night of the silver moon. It only comes once in a generation.” She tipped her head to one side. “What are you thinking?”

I didn’t know exactly what I was thinking, but at least I knew this was almost over. Tomorrow would be day three, and my commitment would be at an end. “Do you think this coin can be tracked with magic?”

Because the council members, along with their goblin guide, had easily found Grimm, not that he’d put much effort into hiding. They hadn’t shown up at the house last night or this morning, but then again, they likely knew we were all on high alert after the attack yesterday.

They clearly knew it hadn’t worked; otherwise they’d have come along to pluck the coin. Which should probably have made me wary of the goblin that lived across the street and could potentially be a spy, but my intuition told me Bridgette wasn’t one of them. With the remarkable exception of Alan, it hadn’t let me down yet.

She blinked a few times. “Magic could possibly trace it.”

Possibly. But it could just as easily be the pages that Grimm gave me, seeing as they were all in Goblinese, there was no way to know exactly what was on them, and I just didn’t know Bridgette well enough to ask. My gut feeling was to stash them both away and play it safe in that regards. Because the reality was, if it could be used to find me, then I couldn’t keep carrying it around in my purse. Damn it, Gran was right about putting it in the Sorrel-Weed house, much as I’d been hoping she’d be wrong. “One more question, are goblins really afraid of the dark?”

Again, she tipped her head. It struck me that she was probably surprised I’d essentially asked her about one of her own weaknesses, but she didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes. But more the darkest dark. Our greatest fear is the darkness of demons and devils.” She shuddered and rubbed her arms.

I reached over and touched her shoulder. “Let me know if you ever get lonely. We have big meals at my gran’s place, and it’s kind of loud, but—”

“I’d love to,” she said in an undertone, casting a glance at the house, “but are you sure the fae king wouldn’t mind? He doesn’t like goblins.”

Now that was interesting, and it seemed to fit with what Crash had told me earlier. “He doesn’t?”

She shook her head. “No. In fact, he really, really doesn’t like us.”

“Well, it’s not just his house. So come on by, maybe this weekend.”

She grinned, showing off blunt teeth. “Thank you, Breena O’Rylee.”

I gave her a wink, pulled myself up off the ground with only a small groan, and headed back across the street. Robert stepped in beside me once I was on our side.

“Robert, that was a good call. She’s a nice goblin.”

“Friend,” he said.

I offered my fist up to him for a knuckle bump, and he slowly raised his own hand, clenching his skeletal fingers into a fist and gently bumping them against mine. “Boom, we make a good team.”

He swayed but said nothing else. I drew a deep breath and looked at the hulking house next door. To the outside world, the bricks appeared bright and clean, but I could see stains of darkness climbing up them like choking vines.

I didn’t want to do this.

But I also trusted Gran, and she’d told me this was the way to go. I trusted she was right about this house, and my conversation with Bridgette had only convinced me it was a good hiding place. Darkest of darks and all that. I just had to put on my big girl panties and get it done.

Okay, maybe medium-sized panties. Surely I could squeeze my butt into those by now.

“Maybe a stretchy pair,” I whispered. Yes, I was talking to myself. I was scared.

I mean, really, the Sorrel-Weed house would be an easy place to monitor given it was literally next door.

I wasn’t going to be running all over town again. I wasn’t twenty anymore, thank you very much. We needed a work smarter, not harder plan.

“We can do this,” I whispered, trying to psych myself up.

But my feet slowed as we drew closer.

The Sorrel-Weed house was a tourist attraction extraordinaire. Lots of people went in and out. In theory, that would make it easier for someone to sneak in and out unnoticed. But it sounded like no goblin would step foot in there. Plus, if the council members had tracked the coin to Grimm’s room, they’d failed to sense that it had been moved to the one below—whatever tracking mojo (assuming it had any) it had wasn’t infallible. If it led them here, they’d probably assume it was tucked into Gran’s house.

Ugh. That wasn’t any better. It meant we all had to be out of Gran’s house for the next day and a half. But we could do that. In fact, it was probably a good idea anyway, given we’d already been attacked there once. I’d leave a note for the others in case I missed them.

The square that lay kitty corner to the Sorrel-Weed house and Gran’s place would work for a place to sit and watch. We could run shifts, me and the others, to keep an eye on the two places, and still stay tucked out of sight. I nodded to myself, satisfied with the decision. It would work.

As long as the weather didn’t turn cold and start snowing—highly unlikely—then we’d be fine watching from there.

I looked at Robert, knowing all my stalling was up. “Ready to go on a tour?”

“Friend,” he whispered.

I forced my feet to step onto the property, my knees knocking and my skin clammy. I had to pause a moment and clench my Kegels to keep it all in. You know what I mean.

Shit, none of this was good. I wanted to go back and talk to Gran again, to see if she’d thought of some plan B or C, but I didn’t.

“Robert, we have to be careful,” I whispered, and my voice seemed to pull the attention of everything in the house. The orange stone in the exterior walls darkened wherever those nonexistent vines ran, turning a deeper red until it looked as close to black as I’d ever seen. A black that swallowed the life around it and made the light of day dim.

My teeth clamped together with a pulse of fear that I struggled to swallow. Fear in a place like this would only make me more vulnerable to darkness. Gran had always told me that fear could weaken you as well as warn you.

Suddenly the fatigue that had been chasing me since I’d moved back into Gran’s house made more sense—sure, I’d been working hard and training lots, but this was bigger than that. Getting a good night’s sleep was nearly impossible with a house like this next door.

I paused on the top step. Maybe it wasn’t the goblin intruder who’d hurt Gran. What if she was fading because the Sorrel-Weed house was affecting both of us? In the shadow world, almost anything was possible, and it seemed as likely an explanation as any other.

I closed the distance to the front door before I could turn and run the other way. Knocked once, and the door swung open on its own, with no one behind it. Yeah, I don’t think that happened to everyone who came here either.

Beside me, Robert growled and I kind of wanted to do the same. Instead, I pulled a knife out of my bag, wishing that I’d strapped them over my jeans instead of tucking them away. I didn’t shout out “hello.” I knew better—I knew how the horror movies went.

Because more than likely someone who was not alive would answer me.

If not for Gran’s certainty that this was the best place to hide Grimm’s stuff, and for Bridgette backing her up, I’d already have been out of the house and running the other way.

“Matilda,” I whispered her name, hoping the lady of the house would show herself and help me.

The floorboards creaked under my feet, and I wrinkled my nose in self-disgust. I mean, I didn’t know the house well enough to avoid its creaking patterns, but still—I absolutely did not want to attract that dark creature’s attention if I could avoid it.

I let my feet go where they wanted, following some instinct that I wasn’t sure I wanted to acknowledge. Robert slid one hand into mine and I clamped down on his skeletal fingers, never more grateful for him than I was then.

Voices circled up to us from an open doorway. I found myself letting us into another room to stay hidden. Which turned out to be small but with a writing desk in it, a single chair, and a handful of fake coins piled in the center of the desk.