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  Just make it stop.

  I jerked my head up as a goblin landed a punch in Eliaster's stomach, dropping Eliaster to the ground. Eliaster sucked in air and rolled away, narrowly avoiding a kick in the face. He got to his feet and backed away, hunched over. Blood trickled down his chin.

  I staggered upright, my hands shaking. Pulled my gun from my jacket. Brought it up and sighted along the barrel to the goblin's chest. I took in a deep breath, held it, squeezed the trigger.

  The shot cracked through the alley. The goblin's left leg buckled. Eliaster arched his back and kicked the goblin's other leg, dropping him all the way to the ground. Its shriek echoed off the alley walls.

  The last goblin scuttled backwards, gawking at the gun in my hands, and took off running down the alley.

  I stood, feeling sick to my stomach. Not from shooting the goblin. From everything else—the adrenaline, the flashback. My hands kept shaking and I nearly dropped the gun. What had I been thinking? I could've missed. Worse, I could've hit Eliaster.

  Eliaster grabbed my arm. "Took you long enough. You okay?"

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak just yet.

  He marched back to the goblin on the ground. He crouched, grabbed the goblin's shirt and yanked it into a sitting position. "Where's Shaughnessy?" he growled.

  The goblin wailed and tried to pull free, his hands scrabbling in the loose gravel at the mouth of the alley.

  My stomach churned. "Eliaster—"

  "Shut up." He looked up at me, and I took a step back. The d'anam fuinneog in his eyes was going wild, shades of green spiking through his irises. He turned back to the goblin. "Where'd your friend run off to?" He punched the goblin in its wounded leg.

  The goblin screamed and tried to struggle free. After a minute it stopped, cringing away from Eliaster. "That gunshot wouldn't have gone unnoticed," it rasped. "The police will be here soon."

  Eliaster grabbed his knife from the cat sidhé's chest and pressed it against the goblin's throat. "Not in time to save your other kneecap if you don't answer me."

  The goblin stared at him, then glanced up at me. I stepped back, holding my hands up.

  "Last chance." Eliaster pressed harder, a line of blood appearing under the goblin's chin. "You're going to regret it if you don't answer me. I'll cut you open like I'm gutting a fish."

  "Okay, okay, okay! Shaughnessy's probably at the Blue Fire. It's a nightclub—he's part owner."

  "And your friend?" Eliaster snarled.

  "I can't—I can't—you don't understand, if I tell you and they find out—"

  Eliaster slammed his fist into the goblin's temple. The goblin slumped to the ground, eyes rolling back in its head.

  I backed out of the way as Eliaster stood and stomped down the alley, motioning for me to follow him. I stepped to the side of the goblin I'd knocked out earlier. It was still out for the count. Rustling quickly through its pockets, I found only a little package wrapped in brown paper. I stuffed it in my own pocket and jogged after Eliaster, skirting around the cat-sidhé's body.

  We walked in silence around the corner, then Eliaster held up his hand.

  "What was that?" I hissed at him as he crept back to the corner and crouched down.

  "Don't. I didn't kill it," Eliaster shot back.

  I winced.

  He wrinkled his forehead. "Sorry, that's not … You shot him to help me. Don't regret that." He sat, his back to the wall, and ran his hand down his face. He looked … almost scared. But before I could ask if he was okay, he started talking again. "I didn't hit him that hard—he should wake up again soon. He'll be hurting, he won't be paying attention. We'll follow him, see where he leads." He nodded to me. "What'd you find on the other one?"

  I pulled the brown package from my pocket and peeled away the paper, revealing a small jewelry box. Something rattled inside as I turned it, examining it from all sides. I fumbled in my backpack for a small penlight, then held the light between my teeth as I eased open the box.

  Nestled inside on a foam cut-out was a glossy, round bead about the size of my thumb, covered in the same type of hash marks as the iron coins Eliaster had showed me earlier today. I tipped the box, showing it to him. "What are those?"

  "Ogham. An old Gaelic writing system." He squinted. "De … dea-tho … something. I never learned all of the symbols. Roe would know them. It's definitely some kind of relic, though. Lots of them have ogham on them—that's the medium typically used for imbuing them with glamour." He went back to watching around the corner.

  "I thought you worked with curators. If this is something typical to relics—"

  He snorted. "I had more to do with the protection side of things than actually dealing with the relics. Besides, I can see the glamour woven around that thing. Can't you?"

  I squinted at the stone, then shook my head.

  Eliaster frowned. "That's weird. I thought you could see glamour now."

  "Maybe it was just a fluke." Or maybe not wearing the bracelet had something to do with it.

  Eliaster suddenly went tense and motioned for me to be quiet. Then he rose and motioned for me to follow him.

  CHAPTER 8

  ELIASTER

  I stalked the goblin for about fifteen minutes as it took alleys and side roads towards the business district, where I could see some kind of factory billowing white steam into the night sky. The goblin wasn't fast—it limped and wobbled, muttering under its breath. Every time it whimpered, I winced.

  I'd lost control. I hadn't expected them to put up a fight like that, to get me to the ground. I'd been cocky, and then I'd panicked.

  I shook the old fear away and focused on following the goblin.

  To my surprise, instead of going for one of the abandoned warehouses we passed, the goblin ducked down a street into an old residential area. This must have been where factory workers lived back in the day—the houses were small cracker boxes, mildewed and crumbling. More than half of them looked abandoned.

  I hung back at a street corner, watching as the goblin scuttled up the steps of a house with boarded-up windows. It rapped on the door, and a few moments later, the door cracked open enough for it to slip inside.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Josh hung back, jiggling his unlit flashlight in his hand with major jitters.

  "He's in there," I whispered. I dug into my jacket pocket for my own flashlight, then tossed him an extra pair of leather gloves.

  He caught them. "So we're going in?"

  I glanced over at the house. It sat quiet and dark. "Maybe. Depends on what we see. C'mon."

  We crossed the street in a quiet jog and ducked to the side of the house. As I stepped onto the neglected, muddy lawn, I spotted a small window set into the house's foundation. I motioned toward it, and Josh flicked on the flashlight.

  Broken pieces of glass glimmered in the grass and dirt around the busted-out window. Josh crouched down to get a better look. I glanced around. The window above us was boarded over. No getting in that way—if I even wanted to get in.

  Josh inhaled sharply.

  My pulse spiked. "What?" I hissed.

  He motioned toward the basement. I knelt beside him and tipped my head to see. The light played over a cement-block room that looked to be the length and breadth of the entire house. On the far side of the room, I could barely see spikes that had been pounded into the wall, chains coiled on the floor next to filthy, tattered blankets.

  I could feel anger rising up my chest and neck in a slow wave of heat. I dug my fingers into the ground.

  "Think they have any prisoners?" Josh asked.

  "Guess we'll find out."

  "Are you sure—"

  "Yes, I'm sure!" I snapped back. I didn't look at Josh as I lowered myself to my belly and slid backward, edging my legs over the basement window's metal sill. A small edge of glass that I'd missed caught and dug into my thigh. I winced and stopped, working my jeans free, then breaking the shard off and tossing it out into the yard.

  I lande
d on the dirty basement floor in a crouch and paused, waiting to see if there was any reaction to the noise. Above me, voices and muffled footsteps sounded. No one would've heard me over the din the goblin and his buddies were making themselves.

  I flicked the flashlight around the interior of the room. It was too small for the house, so it must be a walled-off section of the basement. Tattered remains of a curtain and a cheap metal curtain rod lay on the floor not far from my feet. I motioned for Josh to follow me and crept forward to the blankets. As soon as I touched them, dust rose into the beam of my flashlight. Old, then. And the chains had left rust stains on the fabric. These hadn't been used in quite a while.

  Still, the idea of goblins holding someone prisoner down here, likely some poor human who had fallen into their hands, made me grind my teeth.

  I heard a light thump as Josh's feet hit the ground. I motioned for him to wait where he was, then crept forward to the door. It was already hanging open just a crack, and I eased it back so I could shine my flashlight into the next room. The beam played over a slightly more well-trafficked room, scattered with random broken furniture, an old, rusty washer, and various other bits of junk that I quickly scanned.

  Josh nudged my shoulder and pointed to the side of the basement, tucked between our door and a set of rickety wooden stairs. My heart nearly stopped.

  A small wooden workbench stood below the stairs, clear except for a small cardboard box. One of the flaps hung open, and something inside glittered. Before I could say anything, Josh had squeezed past me and opened the box the rest of the way.

  I tapped his shoulder. "Don't let them touch your bare skin."

  He nodded and pulled on the gloves. After a second, he picked up the entire box. "This thing is full of books, and there's jewelry in here too," he whispered. "I think we have our proof."

  "You're sure? They have ogham?"

  He pulled out a bracelet and a necklace, holding them out to me. I pulled my sleeve over my hand and accepted the bracelet. In the light of the flashlight I could just barely see ogham carved in the underside of the bracelet.

  I frowned, wishing I'd paid better attention when Roe had tried to teach ogham to me a couple of years ago.

  "So Cori was right," Josh said quietly. "Shaughnessy is a relic runner."

  I nodded, feeling slow-witted, my brain scrambling to catch up. Cori and Aileen had been right. "Let's—"

  The door hinges creaked. My stomach dropped. Crap! I grabbed Josh's shirt and yanked him into the side room, pressing us both into the shadows beside the door. Thumping came down the stairs. After a few seconds, whoever it was began whistling off-key. I glanced out the door. A goblin stood at the washer, dumping dirty clothes into the top. I eased the door shut a bit more, then motioned for Josh to head out the window with the box. As he crossed the room, I eased around the corner again, watching the goblin.

  Broken glass crunched under Josh's feet. I winced and grabbed for my knife. The goblin paused. My heart seized in my chest and I squeezed my knife hilt.

  The goblin sneezed, sniffed, and resumed loading the clothes into the washer.

  Once Josh had safely climbed out, I crossed the room and scrambled back out onto the lawn. We quickly headed down the sidewalk, away from the house. Josh tucked the box half into his jacket, and I kept watch behind us. I half-expected the front door to slam open, and goblins to pour out after us, but everything remained quiet as we left the area.

  Once we'd walked a few blocks, I sighed, trying to release the tightly-coiled tension in my chest. I'd fully expected to run into a dead end, despite the Airgeads' insistence that their info was good.

  But the goblins had known Shaughnessy—known enough that they'd tried to kill us for asking about him.

  No. Not kill us. I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, replaying the fight in my mind. The goblins and the cat-sidhé had had knives, yeah, but the cat-sidhé hadn't even slashed at Josh, despite threatening him with the blade. And every slash aimed at me had been aimed for a non-vital area. No arteries, no gut strikes—the outsides of my legs, the backs of my arms. Injuries to weaken, to wound, but not to kill. Not even to cause severe blood loss.

  A chill rolled down my spine. They'd been trying to capture us.

  "You okay?" Josh called back to me.

  "Yeah." I started walking again. Thank the Almighty they hadn't succeeded.

  CHAPTER 9

  JOSH

  Eliaster as weirdly quiet as we got back to the hotel room. He went straight into the bathroom and closed the door.

  I carefully placed the cardboard box on my bed as if it contained a live snake. Then I dug the case I'd taken from the cat-sidhé out of my pocket and opened it, tipping it slightly to one side so I could see the hash marks on the stone. It was tiny, the size of my thumbnail, made of a dark, smooth granite. I pulled the gloves back on and picked up the stone, flicking on the bedside lamp. Under the bright light, I realized the carvings weren't really hash marks. One horizontal line ran across the surface of the stone, with vertical lines cutting through it, some straight, some diagonal. They looked similar to the marks on the bracelet we'd found earlier.

  I started to reach for my tablet, then decided against it. Online research regarding the sidhé was sketchy at best. Roe was a source I could trust. Not to mention the fae might have used the runes in a slightly different way than the Celts, and I wanted to make sure I was getting the correct translation.

  But before I told her, I wanted to examine the contents of the bigger box again. I took a deep breath and opened the lid, then pulled the bracelet and necklace out of their nests of bubble wrap. The ogham on the bracelet's underside were tucked beneath its decorative wire wrapping. I pried the necklace's round locket open, revealing ogham hash marks carved inside, along with a tiny clump of something that looked suspiciously like hair.

  Aw, yuck. Who knew what the locket had been used for? I shut it and rolled the locket in my palm. Something about it was weird—it didn't look that old. The golden-colored metal was still shiny, even under the dirt, and it wasn't like I was an expert on jewelry, but there was no tarnish or patina on it. Every other relic I'd seen had definitely been older.

  I set the three relics to the side, then pulled out the three books stacked in the box. All of them bore cracking leather covers and crumbling pages. I opened one carefully to a random page. The writing was Gaelic—surprising—but I picked out a few words: Mag Mell. An cosán i bhfolach—the hidden paths. I eased the book shut, feeling a grin tug at my lips. Could that be the pathstones? Someone more proficient in Gaelic would know, but if it was, then I'd been right. The Airgeads had led us to a pathstone. I wanted to dance a jig. Bless Cori and Aileen.

  I had to tell Roe.

  I used my tablet to take pictures of the books and relics, pulled my phone from my pocket, and stepped outside. The air outside was almost chilly now. I checked the time on my phone and winced. Nearly two AM. Hopefully I wouldn't wake her up.

  She picked up on the first ring. "Roe Gillam."

  "Hey, Roe? It's Josh."

  "Josh, good to hear from you! How's the search going?"

  "Good." I cleared my throat, looked down at the tablet. "I think we found some things, but I want you to take a look. Mind if I send some pictures to you?"

  "Go ahead."

  I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder and emailed her the pictures. Roe's computer dinged on the other end.

  She was quiet for a moment, then said softly, "Well, you certainly found an interesting assortment of things here. Let's start with the stone. It's what is known as a dea-thoil stone—which means ‘peace.'"

  "Peace?" I repeated.

  "Yes. You wouldn't expect that from a relic, but they were commonly exchanged as signs of good faith as late as a century ago. Sent strictly for peacemaking purposes, often as a gesture of peace or friendship. It's a powerful symbol. Even the most bitter of enemies would honor the dea-thoil. They have glamour, but only to mark the sender of
the stone—it's not malicious. The necklace … hmm. It looks to be a standard love charm to weaken the wearer's mental resistance to someone. Not incredibly dangerous, as relics go, but quite nasty. I hate those mind-altering glamours."

  "What about the other one? The bracelet?"

  I heard clicking, and the line got quiet. Then Roe said, "This one is a bit more concerning." Her tone was a bit sharp.

  "How so?"

  "Well, my advice would be, don't go touching it unless you'd like to get painful boils in unpleasant areas."

  I snorted a laugh. "Could we get more petty?"

  "Petty as it may sounds, relics are a serious business, Josh. This means someone is still transporting them. The curators thought they mostly had the black market trade shut down."

  "So Cori and Aileen were telling the truth."

  "It seems so." She paused, then said, "Please be careful. If this Shaughnessy is dealing in relics, he likely has powerful Unseelie friends."

  "I'll be careful. And I promise I'll keep Eliaster from doing anything stupid." We'd already gotten into a fight with three goblins, so I hoped that filled the trip's stupid ideas quota.

  "Good luck, and may the Almighty go with you."

  "Thanks, Roe." I started to push the phone into my pocket, then thought better of it and opened the contact list. It was a pretty small list nowadays, with only my family, Roe, Cormac, Eliaster, and Lukas entered. And one more … the only number without an accompanying photo. I stared at the number for a second, then pressed new message.

  Hey. Looks like you were right about Shaughnessy. Any more tips?

  I waited, staring at the screen. After a few minutes, a reply popped up.

  I'm going to regret giving you my number, aren't I?

  Maybe. ;)

  *sigh* Get Shaughnessy off the streets, and we'll talk.

  Aww c'mon. I already said you were right. We know Shaughnessy is dangerous. Anything else? Who's he working with? Why are they taking a risk on relics?

  There was a long pause, then …

  People have died because of those questions. Be patient. Please.