“I know but—” I paused and shrugged. The reality was they could call in whomever they liked, and there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it—even if we did think it was the stupidest idea ever.

Rory yawned hugely, then waved a hand in apology. “Sorry, it’s not the company . . . although the circular conversation is getting a little tiresome.”

I flicked the crusty edge of pizza at him. He batted it sideways, and it hit Jackson bang on the nose. “Charming.” He picked up the offending bit of crust and put it on his plate. “We’ll have to move soon if we want to arrive on time.”

My amusement faded as my gaze went to Rory. “Do you need anything before we leave?”

“Other than sleep, and for you to return safely? No.”

“And why am I not included in that wish for a safe return?” Jackson’s offended expression was somewhat offset by the amusement in his eyes.

Rory leaned across the table and patted his hand comfortingly. “When you become essential to my existence, you will.”

“That may yet be a possibility, you know.” Jackson rose and glanced my way. “I’ll meet you out in the car.”

He grabbed his coat and headed out. Rory raised his eyebrows. “What did he mean by that?”

“Long story, but it seems you were right when you said that in merging spirits, I might have made him more one of us than a dark fae.” I hesitated and half shrugged. “It’s very possible that his life force is somehow linked to mine. And if that’s the case, then he’s also linked to you.”

“Just as well I like the bastard, then.” He touched my cheek lightly. “Don’t worry about it. And be careful out there.”

“And you be careful here.” I rose, dropped a kiss on the top of his head, and followed Jackson outside.

It took us close to eighty minutes to get to Brooklyn. Two police officers waved us down as we approached the one remaining road in and out of the area. We showed them our PIT IDs, and after they’d spoken to someone via their com units, we were allowed to continue. Half a dozen black vehicles, which seemed to be the color of choice for PIT, lined one side of the blocked and guarded entrance. Jackson parked beside the last in the line, and we both climbed out.

A gray-suited woman with amber-flecked brown hair and a hawklike nose walked over to us. “The inspector is waiting for you. Please, follow me.”

I flexed my hands in an effort to release some of the tension, but it didn’t really help. Every time I’d entered Brooklyn, something had gone drastically wrong. I couldn’t help the feeling that this time would be no different.

The difference this time, Jackson said, is that Luke is dead.