through the double doors, onto the stairway.
Parked in the hotel’s circular driveway was a white Mercedes with tinted windows, its hood ornament a pewter wolf’s head. Finn halted, pulling back, and Caliban turned to her. “The brave girl is having an attack of good sense. You’ve lost, leannan, let it go.”
His hand vised around her wrist again—she wouldn’t let him drag her to the car, so she walked quickly with him down the stair. Despite the monster at her side, she wanted to jump up and down with joy. Lily’s alive.
“He’s got plans for you, darling.” Caliban opened the passenger-side door of the Mercedes, silver-white hair sweeping across his face. “You might even like some of them.”
She almost ran then, but his nails sank into her wrist and he growled, “Don’t even think it.”
A roaring and a flare of lights from beyond the trees made him snap straight. As Finn stared into the night, wondering what new horror was about to arrive, the glowing orbs shrank to headlights belonging to fox-shaped brass-and-copper motorcycles.
Caliban grabbed her, and a dagger slid from one of his sleeves.
The motorcycles surrounded the Mercedes and halted. The leader removed his helmet, revealing the familiar Christie face of Sionnach Ri the fox knight. “My apologies, Finn Sullivan. I seem to have misplaced something near and dear to me and came to ask if you’ve seen it—hullo, crom cu.”
Caliban bared his teeth. “Fox. She’s the property of the Wolf.”
“Well, we’re stealing the property of the Wolf. Do you think you can fight all of us, crom cu? Each of us has two knives. There are three of us. That’s six knives.”
Finn tore away from Caliban, whirled, and dashed back up the stairs.
Caliban moved, quick and light, and his hand knotted in her hair. She twisted free, wincing as strands of hair ripped from her scalp.
As Sionnach’s bike roared up the stairway and halted neatly between them, the other two motorcycles ascended and Caliban spun to fight for his life. Finn stumbled back.
Sionnach, his bike humming, told Finn, “Go on. We’ll take care of this.”
Finn whispered, “Thank you,” and lunged past him, toward the entrance of the Mockingbird Hotel.
WHEN JACK NOTICED the single flickering insect dancing above the Mockingbirds, he smiled.
He stood among them in a hooded coat so Caliban wouldn’t recognize him. It had taken every bit of self-possession he had not to launch himself at Caliban as the crom cu hauled Finn away.
The dragonfly flitted toward Amaranthus. The Mockingbird queen was circling Lily Rose Sullivan, whose stubborn and defiant posture matched Finn’s so closely, Jack had no doubt she was Finn’s sister.
Amaranthus snatched out and caught the dragonfly by the wing. It whirred. She looked disdainfully at Jack. “Really, Jack . . .”
A clicking noise from above made her and everyone else look up.
The glass ceiling was darkening beneath a mass of tiny, glittering shapes. A jagged crack appeared—and became a hundred fissures.
Amaranthus glanced at Jack, her gaze ferocious with hate. There was a sinister, prolonged creaking sound from above.
Jack flung himself at Lily Rose and pushed her to the floor, shouting, “Sylvie!”
Sylvie dove beneath a chair and snatched the moth cage with her.
A thunderous crash was followed by glass shards cascading downward. The Mockingbirds scattered.
As Jack rolled with Lily Rose beneath a table, a giant spear of glass struck the floor where they’d been and minuscule pieces scattered everywhere. When he lifted his head, he saw the bracelet of silver charms Finn had tried to give back to her sister glinting nearby. He grabbed it and put it in his pocket.
“Who are you?” Lily Rose stared at him as they crouched beneath the table, watching the Mockingbird court erupt into chaos as the dragonflies descended.
“I’m Jack.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up and they ran toward Sylvie, who scrambled to her feet and raced alongside them, through the storm of insects.
As they pushed open the doors, Jack felt Lily Rose’s hand yanked from his. He turned to see Narcissus Mockingbird dragging her back as the dragonflies blackened the room behind him.
“Mockingbird,” Jack said carefully. “Let her go.”
Narcissus’s eyes were slits, his teeth sharp. He began to speak.
Then the dragonflies swarmed over him in a dark, glimmering fog and Lily Rose tore free.
“Go!” Jack told her, backing away with Sylvie, his gaze fixed on Narcissus as the Mockingbird vanished in the storm of dragonflies.
Lily ran. Narcissus lunged. Jack kicked him backward and the Mockingbird reeled toward the roaring fire in the hearth—
The doors slammed shut