at the ankles over a few of Promise’s papers. “Adare has the black eyes and hoarse voice of a purebred demon, but they usually have white-blond hair, and his hair is black. He has gifts known to both. He’s probably the truest hybrid of them all.”
So the woman had given this some thought. Was there more to Grace’s feelings for Adare than mere annoyance? Promise didn’t know how to gauge the other woman’s emotions better than that. So she concentrated on what she did know—scientific inquiry. “You said you’re special because you’re one of three Keys. What does that mean?”
Grace winced and pulled down her shirt to show a perfect outline of a key above her breast. “That’s what this is all about. Short version? We’re planning for a ritual to destroy Ulric once and for all. It’ll take three Keys, which means three Enhanced women, and the blood of a lock to actually kill him. I’m one of the Keys.”
Okay. That sounded like crazy science fiction, but so did the rest of the information she’d gleaned lately. “You must be studying the genetic composition of the Keys,” Promise said.
“The Queen of the Realm and I both are,” Faith agreed. “She was a geneticist before becoming the Queen of the Realm, and she’s pretty obsessed with the genetics of the entire situation. But so far, we haven’t found anything.”
Then it probably came down to the lock. “What or who is the lock?” Promise whispered. If the Keys were human, it stood to reason that the lock would be as well.
Faith sighed. “The lock is a seven-year-old hybrid, Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood.” She shook her head. “With both vampires and demons involved, most of them her relatives, I don’t think anything is ever going to go as planned.”
Promise straightened. “It all comes down to a young girl?”
Faith nodded, taking another sip of her wine.
Just who was this Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood?
Chapter Seventeen
Hope Kayrs-Kyllwood twirled in front of the mirror, checking out her party dress. Green and purple and pink colors sparkled through the material that fell beneath the bandage on her knee covering the big bruise she’d gotten falling out of a tree the day before. Her flat green shoes sparkled along with the ribbons tied in her brown hair.
“I like that dress better than the yellow one,” Libby said from the bed. She’d had her eighth birthday party the previous week and wore her birthday dress again today. It was a wild orange color, which was the feline shifter’s favorite out of the whole rainbow. Probably because she hoped she’d be an orange cougar when she finally learned to shift in her teens. Her hair was blond, however, so her fur probably would be too. “I made you a scrapbook for your birthday.”
Delight filled Hope, and she turned around. “That’s so nice. I love your scrapbooks.” She hadn’t expected Libby to hold off on giving her gift until it was time to open presents. Libby was terrible with secrets. Usually.
Somebody knocked on the door, and Paxton walked in. His dark hair was slicked back, and he tugged at his button-down shirt. He held a present wrapped in newspapers in his hand, and he awkwardly handed it over. “Happy birthday.” His jeans were ripped and only a little dirty.
She took the gift, smiling widely. “Thank you, Paxton.”
Then she looked at her very best friends in the entire world. Well, Libby and Paxton and Drake, who was her dream friend. “We’re gonna throw you a party next week when you turn nine years old, Paxton. Whether you want a party or not.” He hadn’t let them throw one when he turned eight, and his daddy didn’t seem interested in parties, so he didn’t get one.
Paxton flushed red and shrugged, moving to sit next to Libby on the purple bedspread covered in butterflies. “My dad said parties are for wimps.” He winced and held up a hand. “I mean for guys. Not girls. Girls aren’t wimps and should love parties.”
His dad was kinda a jerk, but Hope didn’t say that. Ever since Pax’s mom had died, his dad had been not so great. Pax’s mom had been a really cool demoness, and his dad was a vampire soldier. “Okay, Pax,” she said quietly.
He brightened. “Open your present.”
She ripped open the paper to see a box, which took a second to open. “Oh, Pax,” she breathed, taking out a shiny silver ring with sparkly butterflies. “It’s so pretty.” She slid the ring onto first her right ring finger