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The formal cadence of her speech reminded me of the oldest Fury Elders. And no wonder. Some of them had Sidhe ancestors as well as mortal. But this strange spirit floating next to me was the first full-blooded Sidhe I’d ever encountered.

“How can there be even one of you still in existence? You were wiped out during the War.”

“Ahhh, but the mortals only made it seem that way. They captured a group of us, then convinced our arcane enemies to launch their own slaughter against our race. They did not want to share the prize they had stolen.”

“And what prize is that?”

“The secret to our immortality, of course. And the keys to our most powerful magic. The glamourie.”

My lips and eyes widened. Glamourie, one of the oldest, most powerful magics. Sidhe half bloods could manage a bastardized version called glamour. But their illusions were just that, illusion. Full-blooded Sidhe, on the other hand, could actually take on the physical shape of those they impersonated.

Making them the only shape-shifters who could take on an infinite number of forms besides Furies. In their favor, of course, is the fact that they’re not sworn to the gods to use their shape-shifting skills only under certain conditions, unlike
moi.
They can also maintain their assumed forms for longer periods of time and at a lower magical cost to themselves.

If mortals gained mastery of
that
magic—added to their superior technology and numbers—arcanes would
never
get a fair shot under the new world order.

“So
that’s
how your body came to resemble my sister Fury.”

“Indeed. They forced me to assume her shape just before they executed me.”

“Why would they execute you, if you hold the keys to immortality?”

“Because they feared the influence I had over the other captives. Which they were wise to do, since I was the last.”

“The last?”

“Aye. The last of the Trueborn Sidhe.”

“But you mentioned brethren—”

“Children, more like. Our children. Some bred naturally’ in captivity. Some unnaturally born, not children in the true sense of the word, but flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone nonetheless. Bred and born of the unMagic our captors have perfected.”

Suspicion gnawed at my stomach, a suspicion that made me slightly ill. “You can’t possibly mean—”

“Clones,” she hissed. “The mortals have succeeded where we could not and cured our ‘flagging fertility. By creating Sidlieborn clones.”

My pulse skittered. If word of this spilled out among the arcane community, the Accord would be shattered as painfully as it had been forged. And Furies might well be added to the endangered species list. We could
not
withstand another War, not so soon.

“Uh, Riss.” Scott’s voice buzzed in my ear, but I brushed it off like an annoying insect.

“Where are they being held?”

Her eyes took on a pleased glow and she relaxed her body. “Somewhere to the west.”

Damned Sidhe and their thrice-damned riddle-speak. No wonder they’d been able to screw so many mortals over in ill-made bargains over the ages. The gods may have cursed them to always speak the truth, but there are
all kinds
of truth. “We’re on the frigging East Coast. That’s an awful lot of west.”

Her lips curved. “I meant the’ west of this particular province. What do the mortals call it? Oh yes, the commonwealth.”

Well. That helped somewhat. Western Massachusetts was a whole hell of a lot smaller than the west of the entire effing country.

“Who exactly is holding your brethr—”

“Riss,
move.
Someone’s coming your way!” Scott’s words thudding into my earpiece jerked me into action. “Shit. Sorry. I’ll try and contact you later.” To that end, I drew out a knife, cutting a lock of hair from the Sidhe’s corpse and slicing a small section of skin, careful to make sure drops of blood clung to it as I wrapped the materials in the scarf. I jammed the candles and scarf into my bag, covered the corpse, and shoved the cooler closed. Just in time to hear the room’s door begin creaking open.

I wrapped myself in camouflage, partially unfurling my wings and beating them,’ gaining just enough leverage to launch myself over and behind an examining table shrouded in shadows on the far side of the room. No sooner did I drop into place than several figures stepped through the doorway. I kept my body completely still and peered through the opening in the table’s bottom. One thing caught my attention right off the bat. Only one of the figures wore the typical scrubs of the city coroner’s office. The other three skulked around in cheap three-piece suits straight from the covers of
Yes-Men-GQ.

Elliana took exception to my delay. “Move your ass, Fury!”

“One sec.” I breathed the words as softly as I could while still being picked up by the microphone.

Good thing the room was so damned long. “Feds.”

The ME led the other men straight toward the cooler marked
Turner, Vanessa.
My fingers clenched on the steel underside of the exam table. If they turned the body over, they were going to notice the little souvenir I’d taken.

But the feds just gave the body a cursory inspection. They dismissed the ME with pointed looks toward the door, waiting for him to disappear before speaking.

“Looks like she hasn’t been here, at least.”

“Yes, but the fact that she hasn’t yet returned to her home is a problem.”

The third suit shook his head. “Merely a complication. She will turn up sooner ‘or later. Furies always do.”

I stiffened when I realized they meant me. Sure, I’d suspected that the feds, or at least someone very high up on the f9od chain, was involved somehow. But this sounded an awful lot like
they’d
been the ones trying to have me killed...

“We have several more men seeking her out. And the Harpies may well succeed in flushing the Fury out into the open.”

The first man crinkled his nose, flicking at invisible specks of dust on overstarched cuffs. “I detest dealing with such unpredictable elements. We have absolutely
no
control over them.”

The patterns of their speech seemed off-kilter to me. More formal than the cops I dealt with. Then again, they
were
feds.

“Which may be what it takes to bring the Fury down.” GQ Number Two nodded toward the exit. “Now then, gentlemen, we must be on our way to Salem. Our erstwhile quarry may well be holed up there.”

My heart thudded painfully as fingers dug into cold metal. I wanted to leap upon all three men and rip their throats out right then and there, but I didn’t. We needed more answers if we were to have any hope of figuring out just who these assholes worked for.

I waited several agonizing minutes after the door slammed shut to begin retracing my path through the complex warren of hallways peppering the morgue. What I
wanted
to do was drop the camo. and run like hell, but! didn’t dare. “Did you catch that, Scott?”

His voice sounded unusually serious when he responded. “Yeah, Riss. Your brother and his family?”

My eyes snapped shut as I admitted what I would rather have denied. “Still live in Salem.”

For once, Elliana’s voice didn’t burn my ears. “Then get a move on, Fury.”

And, as much as I could manage without losing control over the magic, I did.

THE OLD FAMILY HOMESTEAD LOOKED JUST
the way I remembered, perched high on a hilltop several hundred feet from the ocean. It towered three stories, its imposing mass overpowering the landscape and driveway surrounding it. The perfect picture of New England architecture, from weathered white clapboard to pseudo-Victorian towers at both ends. I inhaled the tang of salty air, taken by surprise when a pang of homesickness welled up in my throat. I absolutely
loved
living in the heart of Harvard Square in Boston, and had never regretted making the move there during my college years. Still, I couldn’t deny the inexorable tug of my childhood home on my heartstrings. Even despite the frustration that my repeated phone calls from the prepaid cell phone Scott gave me had been answered and then abruptly ended when my voice was recognized. Gods-bedamned sister-in-law. I was going to kill her myself if the feds hadn’t gotten to her first.

“No place like home, right?” Scott prompted after several silent moments.

I glanced at Scott, forcing myself to release the tension clenching my body in its grasp, and caught him dropping his hand as if he’d been reaching out to touch me. I pretended not to notice, though my pulse picked up speed. “Yeah. The more things change, yada yada yada.” I drew in a breath. “Let’s get this family reunion over with.”

We strode along the driveway, he still in mortal guise while I pulled my Fury form around me like the well-wrought armor it was. I’d need every inch of it to deal with my not-so-charming sister-in-law. Since of
course
Jessica was the one to answer the buzzing doorbell. Her eyes washed over Scott without recognition (probably all that wavy red hair that had once been completely buzzed) but zeroed in on my face in milliseconds flat. She slammed the door shut on it. Or tried to, anyway.

I pounced, shoving her back several steps. Scott slammed ‘the door and twisted the half dozen locking mechanisms into use. Paranoia, thy name is Jessica Holloway.

Her mouth opened and closed, producing no sound until shock faded enough for her brain to kick into gear. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? We said all that needed saying when your stupidity got my sister kidnapped. Now, get out!”

She was never going to forgive me for “letting” Vanessa take off on her first and last solo mission.

Never mind that I’d cried more tears and spent far more of the intervening years searching for Nessa than she had. Nope, as usual, Jessica’s grief took front and center over everything else. Like just because she’d been more mother to Nessa than sister after their mother, Olivia, had died, that made her grief more valid than mine. She’d always been deeply jealous of the fact that I shared something with Nessa she never could—the bonds of Fury sisterhood.

I struggled to sound cool, like her words didn’t bother me in the slightest. “No can do, Jess. Sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed and she marched toward the impressive stairway leading to the second floor. “We’ll see what David has to say about this!”

“Yes, let’s do. But make it fast. They’ll be here soon.”

She faltered, right foot not quite making it to the first step. “They?”

“The group of super-secret agents hoping to use you all—well, most of you—against me, thus luring me into a trap I won’t be able to escape, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You
do
take pride in bringing danger down on this family.”

“That’s just my number one goal in life. Jeez, Jessica. Could you stop bitching long enough to take care of what matters? Getting you all to safety.”

Her eyes widened and she clenched the railing. “Oh my God. Con.”

My body tensed. “Where is she?”

“Softball practice.”

I should have known. My niece practically lived and breathed softball. “Shit. Scott, you get Jess and David back to your place. I’ll grab Con and meet you there.”

He leveled unblinking eyes on me. “I don’t think so. Elliana and Mac can handle your brother and sister?’

“In-law,” Jess and! replied in tandem, then glared at each other.

“Sister-in-law. I’m not leaving you alone until this is over.”

“But I’ll be faster flying.”

“Unless they’re already waiting for you there, in which case you could just be deader. Now, could you stop bitching long enough to take care of what matters? Getting your niece to safety.”

I hated it when he turned my own logic against rue— something he’d always been adept at. The bastard.

The doorbell rang, signaling that Ellie and Mac had been tuned in to our conversation. I left Scott to deal with them, jogging up the stairs, careful not to touch my sisterin-law, heading to the room in the house my brother loved above all others. Our father’s onetime study.

My hand clenched on the room’s wooden door frame. David reclined in our father’s old wingback chair, fiddling with a fancy ballpoint pen as he stared out the window at the waves rolling in the distant seascape. Classical music played softly in the background, a taste inherited from our father during his sober days. Silver touched the hair at each of his temples and faint lines shadowed his eyes. That was something new. He looked so much like Dad I fought back tears. My older, beloved brother. The one who’d abandoned me for his shrew of a wife.

Not fair, Riss,
my conscience pointed out.
He never completely cut you off despite what she wanted.

What she ordered. But he had his daughter to think of And, much as he loves you, you’re only his sister.

Not his wife.

Logic did nothing to lessen the hurt. It never did.

I licked my lips. “David?”

He leapt to his feet and hurried across the room. “Riss? Oh my God, it’s good to see you. Feels like years!”

I kept my expression bland as he hugged me tightly. It
had
been years.

“You look fantastic. The same beautiful you.” He brushed the tips of his hair self-consciously. “While I look positively ancient.”

A grin slipped before I could shove it away. “Oh, completely. What are you now? Fifty? Sixty?”

He shot me a mock glare. “Not even a day over forty. Well. Perhaps a few days over.”

Several more than that, seeing as how I was in my thirties and he was thirteen years my senior. He’d developed a habit of “losing” time the past few years.

Initial pleasure gave way to practicality. “Wait. Jessie actually let you in? What happened? Oh, God.

Con?”

“Is perfectly safe. And I’m going to make sure she stays that way. But some very nasty people are on the way here, hoping to use my family against me. Friends of mine are going to take you and Jessica to safety.”

He wrapped both arms around his chest, lips tightening in the stubborn line I knew, all too well. “So I’m supposed to sit back in safety and watch you put your life in danger yet again?”