There was a bump from the kitchen, and Ivy yanked me down as I tried to rise. “Stay put,” she said softly. “Jenks will take care of them.”

“But—” I bit back my protest as Ivy turned to me, her eyes black in the dim light of the early morning. What could Jenks do against fairy assassins? He was trained in backup, not guerrilla warfare. “Look, I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For hitting you, I mean.”

Ivy didn’t move. A seething mix of emotion had gathered behind her eyes, and I felt my breath catch. “If I wanted you, little witch,” she said, “you couldn’t stop me.”

Chilled, I swallowed hard. It sounded like a promise.

“Something’s changed,” she said, her attention on my closed door. “I didn’t expect this for another three days.”

A sick feeling washed over me. The I.S. had changed its tactics. I had brought this on myself. “Francis,” I said. “It’s my fault. The I.S. knows I can slip past their watchers now.” I pressed my fingertips into my temples. Keasley, the old man across the street, had warned me.

There was a third crash, louder this time. Ivy and I stared at the door. I could hear my heartbeat. I wondered if Ivy could, too. After a long moment, there was a tiny knock at the door. Tension slammed into me, and I heard Ivy take a slow breath, gathering herself.

“Papa?” Jax said softly. There was a whine of noise from the hall, and Jax darted to the door. “Papa!” he shouted.

I lurched to my feet, shoulders slumping. I flicked on the light, squinting in the sudden glare at the clock Ivy had lent me. Five-thirty. I’d only been asleep an hour.

Ivy rose with startling quickness, opening the door and stalking out with the hem of her robe furling. I winced as she left. I hadn’t meant to hurt her. No, that wasn’t true. I had. But I thought she was making me into an early morning snack.

Jenks careened in, nearly crashing into the window as he tried to land.

“Jenks?” I said, deciding my apology to Ivy could wait. “Are you all right?”

“We-e-e-e-ell,” he drawled, sounding as if he were drunk. “We won’t have to worry about fairies for a while.” My eyes widened at the length of steel in his hand. It had a wooden handle and was the size of one of those sticks they put olives on. Staggering, he sat down hard, accidentally bending his lower set of wings under him.

Jax pulled his father to his feet. “Papa?” he said, worried. Jenks was a mess. One of his upper wings was in tatters. He was bleeding from several scratches, one right under his eye. The other was swollen shut. He leaned heavily on Jax, who was struggling to keep his father upright.

“Here,” I said, tucking my hand under and behind Jenks, forcing him to sit on my palm. “Let’s get you to the kitchen. The light’s better in there. Maybe we can tape your wing.”