As we drew closer, the musical splash of water began to break the silence, but not the tension gathering within me. I clenched my fists tighter, fighting not only my desire to become fire, but the beating pulse of Jackson’s heat as well. And yet, there was no sign of fire. Not even a spark. He was containing it, but now the question was, for how long?

“Stop,” a gruff, decidedly male voice said.

It was coming from the fountain, from the presence I could feel but not see.

And it wasn’t Rinaldo.

More fucking magic, Jackson said as we both stopped. But I guess it’s confirmation that Rinaldo has a witch working for him.

And that’s something I really don’t want confirmed. Out loud, I said, “Reveal yourself, witch. Or would you prefer I call you Frederick?”

“You can call me whatever you like, but using my name is always preferable.” Amusement edged the gravelly tone. “As to revealing myself—why would I give you that sort of advantage since you know nothing more than my first name?”

“Actually,” I said, “we’ve also seen your face, when you were running for the helicopter.” I paused. “Which we subsequently blew up. How the hell did you escape?”

“Luck and good planning, my dear—both of which I think you need more of.” The amusement was deeper now. “But that is neither here nor there. I’m here to deliver a message.”

“We’ve already got Rinaldo’s message,” Jackson growled. “We don’t need another.”

“Ah, but I’m afraid he begs to differ. It would appear you have learned nothing, as you went against orders and called in PIT.”

“We could hardly do anything else,” I said, “given we’re PIT operatives.”

Surprise rippled across the night. “Are you now?”

“Yes, and we have the goddamn badges to prove it.” Flames shot out from Jackson’s hands as he spoke, reaching with eager fingers for our unseen foe. They hit the barrier the witch was using to conceal himself, and flared across its surface, briefly revealing a thin, shadowed form inside a domelike structure before fading away.

“Interesting,” Frederick said. “As is the fact your flames are not contained.”

Jackson’s grin flashed, though it held little in the way of humor. “No, they’re not. But then, I’m a fire fae. A spell designed to contain Emberly will do little to me.”

“I didn’t think fire fae were capable of creating fire.”

“Then you do not know as much as you thought.”

“Evidently.” His gaze came to me, something I felt rather than saw. “I’m gathering, then, that my magic has had a similar lack of effect on you?”

“Why don’t you drop that shield and find out?”

He laughed. “Thanks, but no. I’ve seen what you’re capable of; I have no wish to feel it.”