“Whoever made the decision to send the troll after me, they wanted a train wreck,” he said. “They wanted death and destruction followed by a battle guaranteed to terrify anyone who watched it happen. A battle generated entirely by the fae. Something to remind humankind that they spent most of their existence being frightened of the Good Neighbors for a very good reason.” He looked back at me, then at Adam, who was walking beside me slowly—as slowly as Zee was moving, in fact. “You have changed the game on them. The fae did not come out of this looking wonderful, but the werewolves defeated the troll, and you defied the Gray Lords themselves. You’ve set the pack up as the defenders of humankind—and proven that you are capable of taking down the monsters of the fae.”

I thought about that awhile. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I was asking Adam, but it was Zee who answered.

“Wer weiß?” he said. “Only the future will tell us that. But no good ever came from battling the Gray Lords at their own game. You have changed the rules.”

“I would take it as a favor,” I said thoughtfully, “if you and Tad would come to stay with us while Aiden is our guest.”

Zee looked at me. I didn’t want him and Tad alone in his house if the Gray Lords were sending trolls after him. He glanced at the boy, who was trailing behind.

“Yes,” Zee said. “I think that would be wise.”

4

Tad and Zee followed me to Adam’s SUV, with Aiden tagging along behind like a stray puppy uncertain of his welcome. We walked very slowly because Adam was hurt, and so was Zee—and I wasn’t certain about Tad. Traffic was still stopped, and people watched us as we walked.

“Hey, Mercy,” someone called, “do you know what’s up?”

I looked over, but I recognized neither the voice nor the face of the woman who was standing outside her car, a toddler on her hip.

“Troll on the Cable Bridge,” I told her. “We dealt with it. They’re working on getting traffic moving, but I think the bridge is going to need major repairs before anyone can use it.”

“Troll?” A teenager in a minivan filled with other teenagers stuck his head out the window. “You mean like a real troll? Lives under bridges, tries to eat goats? That kind of troll?”

I nodded and smiled but kept walking.

He let out a happy sound. “Trolls versus werewolves. Our werewolves for the win!”

Adam opened his mouth and let his tongue loll out. Someone in the teen’s van let out a wolf whistle, and it wasn’t because of Adam’s big pink tongue.

“Grandma, what big teeth you have,” I murmured.

The corners of his lips turned up, but he closed his mouth.