Yes, Pamela was the one responsible for the Valentine Killer murders. In my gut, I knew that was true. The pain of that was alleviated by the conviction that she’d done what she thought best. She’d done it for me. But this? This was like a right hook to the gut, leaving me gasping inside, screaming I was wrong, even as I knew I was not.

Pamela hated Gabriel. Even the fact that he represented her best chance of freedom didn’t help. She hated fae, too, and recognized that blood in Gabriel. Moreover, he was their champion. She wanted to hurt the Tylwyth Teg and to wrest me from their clutches. Framing Gabriel would do both.

What had Tristan told me in his message? Check Pamela’s visitor log. Tipping his hand in arrogance, delighting in pointing me in the right direction, knowing I wouldn’t find him there because he’d used an alias.

“Pamela conspired with you to kill James and frame Gabriel,” I said. “I don’t know if you had anything to do with Ricky beating James, but if not, I’m sure it was an added bonus, throwing extra confusion in the mix. Mutilating James to match Pamela’s victims threw a little confusion in there, too.”

“Bravo,” Tristan said. “Guilty as charged—on all counts, though I suspect dear Pamela won’t appreciate my saying so. There’s very little of your father in you, Eden. Poor Todd, always trying to do the right thing, a coward hiding behind the cloak of conscience. Like your mother, you’ll do whatever it takes to protect those you love. I think you and I can come to an agreement, as long as I promise not to harm your darling boys.”

“I don’t need your promise. You’re right, I’ll protect them—by myself, as my mother did for me. I’m my father, too, though. I can worry that my voice of conscience is too soft, but it’s loud enough that I want nothing to do with you and your plans. Here’s mine. Once I get help for Ricky, you’re coming with us—to the Tylwyth Teg or the Cwn Annwn or whoever wants to deal with you. So—”

“Actually, I believe I can simplify this next step,” said a voice from the ladder. Patrick pulled himself up, fastidiously wiping his hands on his trousers as he stepped into the room. “Tristan, good to see you—particularly in that position. You’ve caused a lot of trouble, and I’m going to win a heap of gratitude turning you over to the elders.” He looked at me. “Don’t worry. I know you don’t trust me enough to turn him over so easily. Gabriel will accompany me back to Cainsville with Tristan, while you take care of the boy.”