I said, “Not a lot of money being a pastor of a small nondenominational church, either. I expect that if he wanted to be rich, he’d have gone into a different business.”

“Does this change our strategy?” Sherwood asked, patting the car soundlessly.

He was acting as if I knew what I was doing.

“I don’t think so, right?” I said. “Two hostages, or two victims if the fae have already killed them.”

“The humans aren’t dead,” said Zee, startling a squeak out of me and an annoyed look out of Sherwood. “I was alerted that something was planned—and apparently my information was correct.”

“Where did you come from?” I asked him.

He frowned at me. “Where your enemy might be next time.”

“Nah,” said Sherwood. “He was waiting around the corner of the building, Mercy. Downwind, but I caught a glimpse of him when you parked. I figured he’d been waiting for us. If he’d been the enemy, I’d have said something. I didn’t see him approach, though.”

“Do you know who they are?” I asked Zee. “What do they want?”

“Nine or ten idiots who follow a greater one,” Zee answered. “These are the ones who left a letter on Christy’s front door. According to my source—and Adam’s telephone conversation—they want Aiden.”

I frowned. “I can scent at least three.” One of whom I knew.

“Four,” said Sherwood. “One of them is flying, but I caught something where it landed on the top of the car.”

Zee considered the church. The lights in the upstairs rooms were on, but the windows had all been replaced with stained glass. It was impossible to see inside.

“The humans are upstairs with Uncle Mike,” Zee said, confirming my nose. “I heard them set him to watch.”

“Is he the one who told you about this?” I asked.

“Probably,” Zee said. “I can’t imagine that he’d be this stupid unless he’s working as a spy for the Council.”

“What’s stupid about it?” asked Sherwood. “They take hostages Mercy cares about to get an unlikeable ancient in the shape of a boy who is doing his best to burn down Mercy’s home. Trade the hostages for the boy—and it’s a win-win for all.”

The dry dislike in Sherwood’s voice told me that he’d had an unpleasant encounter with our Aiden. Aiden was prickly and very good at getting under people’s skin when he wanted to. If I hadn’t seen him vulnerable, hadn’t heard his nightmares, maybe I would be more ambivalent about him, too.

Zee snorted. “Only if you don’t know Mercy or Adam. Or anyone else involved. As if either of our idiot-heroes would ever turn someone who looks as helpless as Aiden over to the fae.”

“Hey,” I protested softly. I’m not an idiot or a hero. But he had the last part right.