A smile touched my lips. “You could be right. After all, you’re not only a fae but also a male. And it’s a well-known fact just what occupies a male’s thoughts every seven seconds.”

“That claim has repeatedly been proven false.” He leaned forward and crossed his arms over the steering wheel, his gaze on the park. “Though in my case, it is quite possibly true. I can’t see any movement beyond the two possums arguing at the base of that elm.”

“If there are vampires there, we wouldn’t see them anyway.” My gaze swept the shadows gathered around the trunks of the century-old elm trees. The moon might have finally escaped the cloud cover, but much of its silvery light wasn’t getting through the thick canopy of greenery. It was the sort of cover vampires intent on no good just adored. “How do you want to play this?”

“Straight.” He reached for the backpack. “If Rinaldo has arranged a vampire-greeting party, we’re better off protecting each other’s backs.”

I glanced at the time. Ten to three. “I guess there’s no point in delaying the inevitable. Let’s get this over with.”

I accepted one of the guns and some ammo, then climbed out. As I strapped on the weapon, Jackson slammed his door shut. The sound echoed across the stillness, and the two possums scurried up separate trees.

Jackson paused beside me. “Ready?”

“No, but it’s not like we have a choice.”

I shoved my hands into my pockets, my gaze moving past the bollards that separated the street from the wide path that led directly to the old French fountain. It was a warm beacon of light at the very end of a long arch of tree branches and shadows. No one appeared to be waiting for us, but the stillness now ran with tension, and not all of it was coming from the two of us.

Someone—or something—was definitely out there.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Jackson murmured, and strode purposefully toward the fountain.

I hastily caught up with him, my gaze sweeping the surrounding area and looking for some sign of movement. But there was absolutely nothing to indicate there was anything or anyone out of place in the park.

Nothing except that gathering wave of tension.

Our footsteps echoed across the night, Jackson’s—for all his size—far softer than mine. Heat burned across my fingertips, and I clenched my hands tighter, not wanting the glimmer to show through the layers of the coat’s pockets.

We were about halfway down when energy began to crawl across my skin, its touch foul and dark.