“Yes,” the Huntsman replied. “The police saw no reason to make that public knowledge, as it did not affect the case and would only embarrass the families of the victims. It’s in a file somewhere.”

“All right, then,” Ricky said. “We have our breadcrumbs.”

We turned to leave. The Huntsman made a noise, getting our attention. When we looked back, his gaze was on Ricky.

“Do you have questions?” he asked. “About what else you’ve discovered tonight? What you are?”

“That depends. Is there anything that’ll get me into unexpected trouble? Sudden appearance of strange powers, maybe?”

A faint smile. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“So, nothing I need to know, then?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re curious—”

“Nope. I’m good.” Ricky put his arm around my waist and led me away.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

When we left the Huntsman, I texted Gabriel a quick You still up?, which got an immediate Of course. I called and told him we had information and a lead. Gabriel didn’t even let me finish that sentence before naming a coffee shop halfway between his place and the clubhouse.

The coffee shop was surprisingly funky—surprising in that Gabriel knew of it. At one in the morning, most patrons were sitting alone, headphones on, chugging coffee, catching their second wind as they chased some deadline or other. Gabriel had taken a table and comfy chairs in a corner nook.

Three cups waited on the table. Gabriel’s coffee, of course. Black. A mocha for me, with slowly melting whipped cream. Black coffee for Ricky, too, with cream and sugar on the side. Apparently, buying him a coffee and knowing how he took it demonstrated the proper degree of consideration—fixing it for him would cross a line.

“Eventful evening?” Gabriel said as we sat down.

“I killed an elf,” Ricky said.

“A dökkálfar,” I said. “If I’m saying that right.”

“Which is why I’m sticking with elf.” He looked at Gabriel. “It was self-defense. It attacked.” He pointed to the bandage on his neck. “Elf bite.”

“Vampire elf?” Gabriel said.

“There is no such thing as vampires.” I turned to Ricky. “He keeps hoping for them, and he’s always disappointed.”

“I am not—” Gabriel began.

“Are too.”

He opened his mouth to retort and settled for, “You’re serious, then. About the . . . dökkálfar?”

“I wouldn’t lie about elves,” Ricky said.

“We were in the forest outside the clubhouse,” I said. “We got separated. Ricky was attacked by a dark elf who’d been posing as a hanger-on in the club. There were also disir.”

“Wights,” Ricky said.

“I like the foreign names. It makes these conversations mildly less ridiculous.”

“We’re still talking about being attacked by an elf.”

“True.”