It took us about twenty minutes to get across to the car yard. Jackson pulled into the parking area and stopped. In the brief moment of silence, a car door slammed, and then a woman appeared. She was tall and slim, with silvery white hair and the most amazing blue eyes I’d ever seen. It wasn’t just the color—which was a blue as rich as a summer sky—but rather the sense of otherworldliness that hit the minute my gaze met hers. It was almost as if I were staring at someone who wasn’t simply flesh, but something far greater. Something ethereal and powerful.

Air fae, that inner voice whispered.

“Emberly,” Jackson said, “meet our savior, the lovely Makani.”

She raised a silvery eyebrow, her expression amused. “Have you ever noticed he’s so much more generous with his compliments when he’s after something?” She held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emberly.”

The minute my skin touched hers, the air stirred and, just for a moment, it seemed to be filled with whispers. They weren’t ones I could understand.

But she could. Her eyes widened fractionally as she ever so gently disentangled her grip from mine.

“What did you see?” I asked.

She hesitated, her expression briefly uncertain. “Trouble and darkness, but also glimmers of hope.”

“Air fae,” Jackson said, his tone dry, “are rather like witches. They cannot abide speaking in simple, understandable terms.”

Makani elbowed him. “Shut up and give me your hand.”

He raised an eyebrow but did as she bid. She cocked her head to one side, obviously listening to the voices I now couldn’t hear. Eventually, she sighed and released him.

“It would appear your fates have been tied together. And you, my dear friend, have stepped well away from the path fate initially mapped out for you.”

“Meaning the death your father saw for me no longer applies?” he asked. If he was at all concerned by this prospect, I wasn’t sensing it.

She hesitated again. “I believe not. But we’re reaching a time of flux, and you two are going to be right in the middle of it.”

“So we’ve been warned before,” I said.

She nodded. “By both Lan and Grace, I believe.”

Surprise ran through me. Lan was the old Filipino shaman who’d helped us stop the Aswang—the spider spirit who’d been using her victims as fodder for her young. He’d also given us a rather dire warning—that a time of metaphysical darkness was approaching Melbourne, and it was a darkness that would draw even darker creatures and events. The Aswang and the virus were, apparently, just the beginning of our troubles.

“I’m surprised you know them—I thought air fae tended to be soloists,” I said.