A sharp ringing echoed across the odd stillness and made me jump. Lugh stopped, dragged out his phone, and hit the answer button. “Rogan? Is there a problem?”

I stopped close but couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, which was a little annoying.

After a minute or so, Lugh said, “Why can’t he just catch a cab?”

More silence. I shifted from one foot to the other and scanned the trees again. Something had shifted. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that something had now woken. There was now an odd sort of awareness in the dead blanket of fog surrounding us, and though my knives continued to remain inert, my second sight was giving me all sorts of bad vibes.

“What time does his plane come in, then?” Lugh growled. “Not soon, I’m hoping.”

More silence, then, “Fine. Text me the details.”

As he hung up, I said, “What’s happened?”

“Rogan wants me to pick Eljin up from the airport. He’s arriving at two, apparently.”

“Who the hell is Eljin?”

“One of the new antiquarians.” He headed off again, but not before casting me a look that I knew from long experience meant trouble headed my way. “Actually, maybe you should pick him up.”

“Why would either of us be doing that? Rogan has a boatload of underlings he could ask if he didn’t want his new relic hunter catching a cab.”

“He said to consider it a team-building exercise and a chance to get know each other in a non-work environment.”

I snorted. “How long has he known you?”

“So long he’s forgotten I detest such pleasantries. You, on the other hand, are excellent at them.”

“I’m not doing your dirty work, Lugh.”

“Oh, in this case, I really think you should.”

I glared at his back. He must have felt the heat of it, because his shoulder blades twitched. “Why?”

“Because Eljin is not only a very single pixie, but also only a couple of years older than you.”

“And you know all this how?”

“Rogan always gives me the files for an opinion on prospective employees.”

“And you’re matchmaking me with this man even though you’ve never actually met him?”

“He’s a pixie, Beth. He can’t be all that bad.”

I snorted. “Yeah, because aside from your good self, we have so many fine representatives of pixie males in Deva at this particular moment.”

He laughed and dragged out his phone. A second later, mine dinged. I pulled it out of my pocket and opened his message. It was a picture of a man with shaggy mahogany hair and golden eyes. He very definitely wasn’t just one step up the ladder when it came to pixie talent in Deva but a veritable dozen of them. I wasn’t about to admit that to Lugh, though.

“A Tàileach pixie? Gods, Lugh, you know how they feel about us.”

“He’s French. Different line, different attitude. And remember, you’re not the only single pixie woman in Deva looking for decent talent. Best to get a jump on the competition while you can if you ask me.”