Macy had been a poor play. That was the problem with the boinne-fala. They were unpredictable, easily swayed by ego and emotion. They didn’t understand the meaning of loyalty. He’d offered Macy the one thing she’d wanted most, and she’d betrayed him. Why? Because a small part of the plan hadn’t gone exactly as he’d hoped, and she hadn’t trusted him on the rest.

He should have foreseen that. Macy was pure human, without a hint of the old blood. When he’d seen how she’d envied Ciara Conway, he should have known she’d turn that envy on Eden, like a child seeing another girl get all the best treats. She’d stomped her feet and wailed, “Why her?” and then aimed all of her small fury at her supposed competitor and . . . been incinerated by it. Which was just as well, because if she’d survived that battle of wits with Eden and Gabriel, Tristan would have had to kill her himself. Not that there’d been much chance of her surviving it. Poor Macy. So terribly outclassed.

He was chuckling to himself when Alis came in the back door. She piled his mail and flyers on the counter and dropped a ripped sheet of notepaper in front of him.

“Her phone number.”

“I already have it.”

He continued watching through the drawn sheers as the car pulled away.

“She told quite a story,” Alis said as she fixed herself a tea. “Did you know you have a sister with cancer?”

“Do I? How tragic. Remind me to send a card.”

“She’s quite remarkable. Naturally charming and an accomplished liar. Some worried that living with those boinne-fala parents would hamper her blood, but she’s inherited gifts from both sides.”

“As befits Mallt-y-Nos.”

Alis walked over to him. She’d shed her “elderly neighbor” glamour and reverted to her usual form. It wasn’t her true form—no one used those anymore. Not only dangerous but pointless. Their true form was close enough to human that they were comfortable looking like them.

Alis appeared as a young woman, perhaps a little older than Eden. Dark-haired, slightly built, pretty but not head-turning. A perfectly ordinary form, not unlike his own.

“Do you need me to do anything else?” she asked.