Todd relaxed at the mention of a husband. He was a good-looking, doting young daddy. Biological catnip, and he was probably accustomed to ducking female attention. He picked me up, his hands under my armpits, and dandled me, my feet touching the ground. He let me dance the only way I could, supported where my legs failed. I shrieked and wriggled with excitement.

“Edie dance!” I crowed. “Edie dance!”

He chuckled. “Yes, Eden is an awesome dancer.”

“She’s such a sweetie,” the woman said. “It’s too bad about her legs.”

He tensed, and I swore I felt a chilly comeback rise, but he swallowed it and said, “It’s spina bifida.”

“Such a shame. A beautiful, broken baby.”

Todd scooped me up, ignoring my flailing protests as he held me against his chest, and rose to his feet.

“My daughter is dealing with a physical challenge,” he said. “She is otherwise healthy and happy, and she will be fine, thank you very much.”

“But she’ll never live up to her potential. What if she could be a dancer? A prima ballerina? You think about that. I know you must.”

Her voice faded as Todd grabbed the diaper bag and walked away. I tried to see her over his shoulder, but he held me too tight, shielding me.

“What if I said she could be fixed?” The woman’s voice came clear again as she caught up. “What would you give to fix her?”

“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling.”

“What I’m selling is hope.”

He snorted, the sound rippling through him. “For a hundred bucks an ounce, I’m sure. Some cream to rub on her back. Some herbal drops for her to take each night. Is this what you do? Lurk around parks trying to drum up business with desperate parents? If my daughter wasn’t here, I’d—”

“You’d let me know what you think of me.” The woman chuckled. “You have a bit of a temper, don’t you, Todd?”

He stiffened, still walking. “How do you know my—?”

“What do you know of the Wild Hunt, Todd?”

He picked up speed.

“You’re familiar with the stories, aren’t you?” she continued. “Because in your family, they aren’t stories. They’re history. Like having the phone number of a third cousin in the White House, who might be able to help if you really need it, but you have to really need it, or you don’t dare call. The difference? You have no way of getting in touch with the Hunt. You know they exist. You know their blood runs in your veins. You know they have power—the power to do things like heal a broken baby.”

Todd kept walking, but he had slowed, listening.

“What if I gave you that phone number?” she asked.