The noise grew deafening as we pierced a ring of light that washed yellow and warm over my eyes. Smoke stung my nostrils. A waft of burnt citronella made my eyes sting. Toenails clicked on a smooth surface, and the convoy ground to a halt. The gully, it turned out, was a deep wash behind a sprawling clapboard house. The igel mucked through a bed of smoothed clay the pale gray of Unseelie skin. Faces ringed the crumbling ledges above, peering down at me. Money exchanged hands. Popcorn—seriously?—rained over my head. The firelight illuminated the area where I was being held but left the spectators their anonymity. Still, I had a good guess as to who they were.

Furies were rare. At least as rare as Geminis. They were usually born into witch families, making them one of the few fae who sprung from humans. Except not really. A Fury’s soul was immortal. Its flesh was temporary housing. What that meant in most cases was a Fury latched on to a human early in its life, kicked its soul to the curb and became the person. It would live that life, procreating like mad, until its body grew old and died, and then it would leap into the next suitable vessel in its lineage and begin again.

So if I had to guess who—other than Jasper’s igel family—would be so eager to watch the show, I would place my bets on Letitia’s coven, of which her mother and brother must also be members.

Footsteps padded toward me. An old woman, who I recognized as the final member of the trio who’d confronted Harlow in Wink, leaned over me, tight-lipped and indifferent. She pointed a gnarled finger to the left, and the shadow wrenched my neck so I had to look or my head would pop off.

Harlow hung suspended by the second umbra. Her feet were bare and her legs smooth. The tail was gone again. Microscopic denim shorts rode low on her hips. A swath of pale skin glowed warm in the torchlight between the waistband and the hem of her neoprene top.

“Release me.” Though my head was still cranked to one side, I cut my eyes to their corners to glare up at the old woman. “She’s made no secret she plans to kill us. The only way we all walk away from this is if you release me and the mermaid. Now.”

Her puckered lips plumped as she considered my demand. “I will no’ cross that girl, child, lest I surrender me own life in place of yours.” She bared bright pink gums. “I’m old, but I’m no’ dead yet.”

“Gazing through the bars of a prison cell is not how I would choose to end my life,” I threatened.