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“At least we found Gideon’s plans.”

“What did you find?”

A fellow passenger glanced over, prompting my innocent smile. They probably thought I was a crazy person, riding trams at night alone, muttering to myself.

“Sketches of a locket on a chain,” Zee said. “Looked like a tiny cage. It had Gideon Cain’s name stamped on it.”

Then Seb’s guess was a good one. “Agatha is our route to getting my power back.”

But our run-in with her hadn’t been friendly before, and she was unlikely to help us out of the goodness of her heart. We’d have to make it so she had no choice. But how? She’d told us Gideon was powerful. It was going to take a lot for her to switch sides. “Do you think Victor knows how to get to her?”

“Probably. You think him and Tinkerbell fucked?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t seem his type.”

“But a twinky human and his worst enemy are?”

I snorted. It did seem crazy, but it worked. “Yeah, we are.”

The weight of Zee’s head settled on my shoulder. “I miss sleeping with you. Not just the fucking. I miss the sleeping part, and the waking up with you tucked against me part . . . yah know? I’ve never had that before.”

I reached out and guesstimated where his leg might be. Whatever part of him I’d found seemed pretty firm so I gave it a comforting squeeze. “I miss it too.”

“That’s my cock, Kitten. But don’t stop. Fuck, we could get up to all sorts of sexy shenanigans if you had a ring too. Like two horny ghosts.”

I laughed and removed my hand, earning another sideways glance from the concerned passenger.

Zee promptly plonked my hand back, this time on his thigh—at least, it felt firm and thick, like a thigh. “You know what else I’ve never had?” he asked, sounding wistful. “Dreams of a future, where it’s just me and you and Daddy Spice, living our lives, being who we want to be . . . Is it crazy to want that?”

“No, I want that too,” I reassured him. And we’d have it. Maybe.

But only if we stopped Gideon Cain.

CHAPTER 4

Madame Matase spent the next morning fielding complaints about ghostly goings-on throughout the hotel, which prompted me to suggest Zee hand over the ring to Tom for safekeeping.

Victor had returned just before dawn, in time to see Zee surrendering the ring. He’d looked a little ragged, but he’d achieved his goal of making sure the cops were in disarray, giving Zee and me chance to escape. After ordering a Bloody Bitch, he’d sat at the counter where Zee proceeded to tell him all about the hotel’s new “ghost”—who definitely was not Zee.

While Victor listened, he sketched the locket’s cage he’d seen on Agatha’s blueprints so Tom and I could see its design.

We were studying that sketch, going over the details, throwing out theories for how it might work, when the world’s deepest grumbling voice said, “Hello.” We all turned to see a vast, hulking shadow fill the bar doorway.

“Claymore!” Zee sprang from the stool and poofed across the bar. He flung an arm around the gargoyle’s broad shoulders, and dragged him toward the counter. “Fuck. Welcome home, buddy! Look at you! You get any prison ink? Give me all the prison drama. Did you form a gang? Dig tunnels?” He sat Claymore on a tiny barstool, making it creak. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me . . . While plotting your escape you created a multi-point trading system, smuggling in and selling contraband, which put you on a collision course with a rival gang and started a troll war?”

“I mostly stared out a window,” Claymore grumbled.

Zee blinked. “Get this larger-than-life, handsome bastard a drink!”

“One Drain Unblocker, coming right up,” Tom announced with celebratory flare.

I assumed that was the name of the drink and not actual drain unblocker, although from the thick, gloopy green liquid Tom poured into a highball glass, maybe Claymore preferred Dr. Drain.

A polite throat-clearing cough announced Agent Elion Leomaris’s presence. My gaze met the ex-bounty hunter’s as they strode toward us, and that old spike of fear sharpened my senses. Then Elion smiled, and stopped in front of me. As a fae, they always looked so well put together—their green hair shone, their long coat emphasized long legs, and even the way they spoke suggested civilized authority. As a bounty hunter they’d have been relentless. As an SSD agent, I suspected they were the same. “I heard Claymore was being released so I hope you do not mind, I collected him myself.”

“Thank you.” That had been a nice thing to do. Suspiciously nice. Elion had proven to be useful and even helpful, but as an SSD agent—and with my secrets—I’d probably always be wary around them.

Victor discreetly folded his sketch of Gideon’s locket and tucked it inside his jacket. “Good morning, Agent Leomaris.”