I read entry after article, astonished by how many countries and cultures held similar beliefs. I’d never given any thought to the origins of Halloween, just happily collected the candy, and in later years had a blast with the costumes and parties, and enjoyed the great tips if I was working.

Bottom line was the walls between our world and the “Otherworld” were dangerously thin on the last day of October, at their most vulnerable at precisely midnight, the crack between one half of the year and the next, the threshold between light and dark, and if anything was going to try to get through, or if anyone—say an evil ex-Fae with vengeance issues—wanted to bring them crashing down around our ears, that was the time to try it.

Certain nights of the year, lass, Christian had told me, my uncles perform rituals to reinforce our pledge and keep the walls between our realms solid. The last few times, some other dark magic rose up, and prevented the tithe from being fully paid. My uncles believe the walls won’t last through another incomplete ritual.

Certain nights. Wouldn’t last through another incomplete ritual.

Was Samhain the night the MacKeltars’ next ritual was to be performed? Were we that close to disaster—two short weeks away? Was this the meaning of O’Bannion’s snide threat?

I thumbed redial and called the ALD again. Again, there was no answer. The waiting had been making me crazy all day, and now I didn’t just need to warn him, I needed answers. Where was he?

Powering down my laptop, I locked up and headed for Trinity.

Surprisingly, I dozed off, slumped sideways against the wall outside the locked offices of the ALD. I think it was because I felt like Mac 1.0 there, in the brightly lit hallway, on a college campus, surrounded by the happy sounds of youth that didn’t have a clue what was waiting for them out in the real world.

I woke to someone touching my face and my inner sidheseer exploded.

The next thing I knew, Christian was on the floor beneath me, and my spear was at his throat. My muscles were rigid. I was ready for a fight; my adrenaline had no outlet. Dreams had shattered the moment I’d felt myself touched. My brain was cold, clear, and hard.

I took a deep breath, and ordered myself to relax.

Christian nudged the spear from his throat. “Easy, Mac. I was just trying to wake you. You looked so sweet and pretty asleep.” His smile was fleeting. “I’ll not be making that mistake again.”

We separated awkwardly. As I’ve said before, Christian is a man, and there’s no mistaking it. I’d been straddling him much the way I’d straddled Barrons recently. Either my spear hadn’t intimidated him or he’d managed to . . . well, rise above it.