Shoving him up the wall, Ivy dropped him and stepped away. He hit the floor in a slump, his hand at his neck as he coughed violently. Slowly he moved his legs into a normal position. Flipping his very black hair from his eyes, he looked up, sitting cross-legged and barefoot. “Morgan,” he said roughly, his hand hiding his throat, “I need your help.”

I glanced at Ivy, who was tightening her black silk robe about herself again. He needed my help? Ri-i-i-i-ight. “You okay?” I asked Ivy, and she nodded. The ring of brown left to her eyes was too thin for my comfort, but the sun was high, and the tension in the room was easing. Seeing my concern, she pressed her lips together.

“I’m fine,” she reiterated. “You want me to call the I.S. now or after I kill him?”

My gaze ran over the kitchen. My cookies were ruined, sitting in soggy clumps. The globs of frosting on the walls were starting to run. Saltwater was venturing out of the kitchen, threatening to reach the living room rug. Letting Ivy kill him was looking really good.

“I want to hear what he has to say,” I said as I slid open a drawer and put three dish towels in the threshold as a dike. Jenks’s kids were peeking around the corner at us. The angry pixy rubbed his wings together to make a piercing whistle, and they vanished in a trill of sound.

Taking a fourth towel, I wiped the frosting off my elbow and went to stand before Quen. Feet spread wide and my fists on my hips, I waited. It must have been big if he was willing to risk Jenks figuring out he was an elf. My thoughts went to Ceri across the street, and my worry grew. I wasn’t going to let Trent know she existed. He would use her some way—some very ugly way.

The elf felt his ribs through his black shirt. “I think you cracked them,” he said.

“Did I pass?” I said snidely.

“No. But you’re the best I’ve got.”

Ivy made a sound of disbelief, and Jenks dropped down before him, staying carefully out of his reach. “You ass,” the four-inch man swore. “We could have killed you three times over.”

Quen frowned at him. “We. It was her I was interested in. Not we. She failed.”

“So I guess that means you’ll be leaving,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t be that lucky. I took in his subdued attire and sighed. It was just after noon. Elves slept when the sun was high and in the middle of the night, just like pixies. Quen was here without Trent’s knowledge.

Feeling more sure of myself, I pulled out a chair and sat down before Quen could see my legs trembling. “Trent doesn’t know you’re here,” I said, and he nodded solemnly.