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Please don’t, she sent along the connection to his mind. I need more time.
Because the fiercest, most stubborn part of her clung with bloody fingers to an impossible hope.
I’ve always loved your stubbornness, Rhun replied mentally, but there are things I will not budge on, either. Such torment in his eyes, twisted pain in his soul—and the promise of steel in the tone of his psychic voice.
Understood, she whispered in his mind.
And she did. Time was running out, and she was racing far behind.
Hazel had silently left the room some time ago, and they found her in the kitchen when they went to say good-bye. She hugged Merle tight, a thousand loving, encouraging words in the warmth of that gesture, and accompanied them to the front of the house.
They were crossing the foyer underneath the massive chandelier when the doorbell rang. Hazel stopped short, glanced at the clock, which showed one in the morning.
“At this hour?” she murmured.
Since Merle and Rhun had been on the verge of leaving anyway, they followed her out to the main gate, where the nighttime visitor waited just beyond the perimeter of the magical wards protecting the Murray property. Rhun stepped in front of Merle as they approached, subtly reminded her to stay back—where normally he had no issue acknowledging that she was more powerful in terms of magic, he’d now firmly assumed the role of her protector, since she needed to use as little magic as possible.
Hazel stepped up to the gate, opened it with a flick of her hand. The wrought-iron fence was mostly for show anyway, for human eyes and perceptions. Any otherworld creature worth its salt would be able to scale a barrier like it; the wards kept out intruders of the supernatural sort.
And those protections remained in place, making sure the fae who waited on the sidewalk didn’t take a step closer.
“Good evening,” the female said, and inclined her head.
Light brown skin, blond hair flowing over her shoulders, and age-old fae power rolling off her, the visitor looked expectantly at Hazel, who stood frozen in place. Her energy pattern fluctuated wildly, and Merle wished she could read auras as well as Lily just so she could figure out what was going on with Hazel.
“You…” the Elder witch whispered.
“I have come for the changeling.”
A second, a heartbeat, of utterly speechless shock, which was written plainly on Hazel’s face—and then she lost it. With a move almost too fast for Merle to follow, Hazel struck, her magic pulsing in the night air. Merle flinched when Hazel’s spell hit the fae, bound her to the spot with a powerful paralysis charm.
Whoa, Rhun said in Merle’s mind. What’s gotten into Hazel?
I don’t know, Merle replied, frowning. Given that Hazel had been eager to find a fae to take her into Faerie, and that, apparently, this was the fae who had brought Basil here all those years ago, such an aggressive move on Hazel’s part didn’t make sense.
The head of the Murray family advanced on the fae, twisting her hand to jack up the paralysis spell. Power crackled around her like an electric charge.
“I come…in peace…” the fae choked out.
“The hell you do.” Hazel flashed her teeth, and Merle almost stumbled back at the fierce expression on her usually sweet face. “You have picked the wrong time to play with me. I have been worried sick about my daughter in Faerie, and now about my son, too, after he left without a word, while I have been stuck here waiting, waiting, waiting, when I should be out there protecting my children…and then you show up out of the blue, so convenient, so fitting, but I am done playing your game. I have no patience left to hear whatever lies you want to spin now, and you will find I am no longer the witch you coerced to do your bidding twenty-six years ago!”
With a primal, rage-filled scream, Hazel hurled another spell at the fae, her hands weaving in the air to form the most powerful truth charm known to witchkind, used to nullify even the strongest enchantments.
The fae gasped, jerked, and fell to her knees. Eyes widened in shock as Hazel renewed the paralysis spell again on top of the truth compulsion, the fae coughed, wheezed—and then her features changed.
As if melting under great heat, the lines of her face sagged, blurred, as did the rest of her body. Her appearance dissolved, gave way to another form. A male fae emerged in her stead—no, not a fae. Merle inhaled sharply as the unmistakable energy of a demon brushed her senses.
Now I have seen everything, Rhun muttered in her mind.
Merle couldn’t agree more.
Golden blond hair, light skin with just the hint of a warm tan, the youthful look of a male in his prime, the demon’s features reminded her of… Before Merle could make the connection, Hazel spoke.
“Who are you?”
The demon obviously struggled, trying to not to reply, but the truth spell pulled the answer out of him like a dentist yanked out a tooth. “The changeling’s father.”
Merle grabbed Rhun to steady herself. His shock vibrated along their mating bond, a mirror of her own. Nothing compared to Hazel’s reaction. Her face blanched, her energy so palpable it felt like a whip.
