“Graham says it doesn’t.” The corners of his mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile, but wasn’t sure he should. “Allie says it makes it harder to charm.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah. That’s what Graham says.” The smile broke free and Charlie had to stop herself from taking a step back. Or forward. He didn’t look seventeen when he smiled; there was too much dragon in the teeth and a hint of danger in the curve.

These were not feelings she could deal with before coffee, and she barely resisted dropping the fourth spoonful into her mouth after the first three went into the French press.

“Charlie?”

And now he sounded . . . young. Which he was.

“Yeah, Jack.”

“You need to take me back four years so I can be trained.”

Charlie spilled the coffee again. “What part of the family doesn’t deal with the Fey did you miss?”

“This isn’t dealing with the Fey, this is me keeping you and probably Katie alive.”

The coffee was taking too damned long. “What?”

“Before the ritual . . .”

“The one the aunties want you and me to join.” That ritual.

“Yeah, before that happens, you have to take me back in time. We’ll go out to the badlands where there’s room to maneuver and aim for the day my mother came through. I bet that made a mark.”

“Jack . . .”

“Then we drive back to town and I use the imprint of the old gate at the Fort to drop into the UnderRealm. I mean we know I’m not in there, right? I’m in the park. And my uncles collectively got their asses kicked home, so it could be years before they even notice I’m with the Courts. And since we know they haven’t shown up to screw things up here, they won’t show up to screw things up here.” He danced the second spill back into the canister and up into a second whirlwind; a dark roast tornado about a foot high. “I’ll be back the day I left, trained. Able to control myself. Maybe able to stop the asteroid. You won’t even have noticed that I was gone. And I’ll be twenty-one. I know,” he held up a hand before she could speak, “it’s still nine years, but . . .”

“Jack! It’s still thirteen years, I’ll be thirty-four.”

The whirlwind collapsed. “What?”

Sagging against the counter, Charlie rubbed both hands over her face. “If I take you four years into the past, I have to live those years. Avoiding myself. Waiting for the day we left.”

“Why? Just go back through the Wood.”

“Go forward?”

“Sure, why not? You’re in the past, right? You know the future happened. Go back to where we came in when we went back.”