For a moment, I thought I’d been wrong, but she pointed the barrel at the man who had shot at me. “You. Get up.”
Her daughter smiled. “Would you mind helping us, Ms. Crowe?”
Eli and I exchanged a look. We were in accord, as usual. He bowed his head at them, and then scooped the unconscious man up.
In a strange group, we walked toward the exit.
As we were putting the unconscious attacker in the trunk of the Cadillac the women had arrived in, the sun rose, tinting the sky as if it were a watercolor painting.
I paused, wincing. Sunlight wasn’t my friend. I wasn’t a draugr—luckily, because sunlight trapped young draugr—but my genetics meant daylight made my head throb if I was out in too much of it. I slid on the dark sunglasses I carried for emergencies.
“It was nice to see Daddy,” the younger woman said quietly to her mother. “I wish it had been closer to Christmas, but still . . . it was nice.”
The widow motioned for the other prisoner to get into the trunk. Once he did, Eli slammed the trunk, and the widow squeezed her daughter’s hand. “It was.”
The daughter handed Eli the keys. She was shaken by the shooting, and I was bleeding from the shattering stone. Neither of us was in great shape to drive. However, it wasn’t great for Eli to be trapped in a hulking steel machine. Faeries and steel weren’t a good mix.
“I’ll drive my car,” he said, popping the trunk and grabbing a clean shirt. Working with me meant carrying an assortment of practical goods—clean clothes, duct tape, a sword, zip ties, and first aid supplies.
I tried not to sigh that he was now dressed fully again. Don’t get me wrong. I respect him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t prone to lustful gazes in his direction. If he minded, I’d stop.
He walked to the passenger door and opened it. “Come on, my peach pie.”
The widow drove her Caddy away as I slid into the luxurious little convertible that had been fae-modified for Eli.
“Are you well enough to do this?” Eli asked as he steered us into the morning light.
“One human.” I kept my eyes closed behind my sunglasses, grateful for the extra dark tint of his windows. I rarely needed sleep for most of my life, but lately I was always ready for a nap. Not yet, though.
I assured Eli, “I’m fine to deal with this.”
So we set out to retrieve the young hostage. We didn’t discuss my near constant exhaustion. We didn’t talk about the fear that my near-death event had left lingering issues for my health. We would have to, but . . . not now.
We arrived at a townhouse, and I flowed to where the captor held a smallish boy. Flowing wasn’t a thing I typically did around regular folk, but there were exceptions.
The boy was duct taped to a chair by his ankles.
The captor, another man about the age of the two in the trunk, was laughing at something on the television. If not for the gun in his lap and the duct tape on the boy’s ankles, the whole thing wouldn’t seem peculiar.
When the man saw us, he scrambled for his gun.
So, I punched the captor and broke the wrist of his gun-holding arm.
Eli freed the boy, who ran to his family as soon as they came into the house.
The whole thing took less time than brewing coffee.
“Best not to mention Ms. Crowe’s speed,” Eli said to the women as we were leaving.
The younger one nodded, but she was mostly caught up in holding her son.
The widow looked at me.
“Not all witches are wicked, dear.” She patted my cheek, opened her handbag and pulled out a stack of folded bills. “For your time.”
“The raising was already paid,” I protested.
“I took it from them,” she said proudly. She shook it at me insistently. “Might as well go to you. Here.”
Eli accepted a portion of the money on my behalf. He understood when it was an insult not to and when to refuse because the client couldn’t afford my fees.
Honestly, I felt guilty getting paid sometimes. Shouldn’t I work for my city? Shouldn’t I help people? Shouldn’t good come of these skills?
But good intentions didn’t buy groceries or pay for my medical supplies. That’s as much what Eli handled as having my back when bullets or unwelcome dead things started to pop up.
After we walked out and shoved the third prisoner in the