“We go at nightfall. He may be strong enough to hold himself by clutching rock, or I drive a spike in for him. It’s doable. How quickly is Christian healing?” I ask Ryodan. If he’s in bad shape, hanging on could be difficult. “When do you think the Hag will next attack him?”

“Hard to say. I didn’t linger.”

“I’m the one he sacrificed himself for,” Jada says. “I’m the one who will rescue him.”

“Illogical and emotional,” I say acerbically. “Debt owed does not determine best woman for the job. Besides, I’m immune to the thrall of a Fae prince.”

“As am I,” she says. She raises her arm and flashes that darned cuff at me that I really wish I had.

“You know I’m right,” I say. “The plan with the greatest odds of success is the one I just detailed. And I don’t need your bloody cuff. I can do it without it.”

I glance at Barrons, who’s looking in my general direction. His eyes say, You’re comfortable with this?

“Yes,” I say. I love that about him: he’s alpha to the bone but when the stakes get high, he doesn’t go all ape-shit crazy trying to keep me out of the game. When I choose my place to stand, he supports me standing there.

“It’s no’ about who saves Christian and kills the Hag. It’s about saving him. Period,” Drustan says quietly.

I say, “And like it or not, Jada, my invisibility is the edge we need. If I go down, there’s only a cable hanging over the cliff at night. If you go down, there’s a cable and a whole five feet ten inches of human body visible.”

Everyone but Jada murmurs agreement.

“And if the Sinsar Dubh decides to seize a perilous moment to wrest control of you?” Jada says.

“Aye, how is it you have the Book?” Drustan says. “Is it similar to Dageus and the Draghar?”

“It is,” I tell him. “And it can only take control of me if I kill. That’s why I’m handing Christian the spear.”

“Even if it’s an Unseelie you kill?” Dageus says.

“You’ve killed and lost control before,” Jada says. “I saw her. The Gray Woman. And the Garda you killed. I saw your shrine.”

“Which is why I’m handing Christian the spear,” I repeat irritably.

“I won’t be spotted scaling the cliff,” she says. “I’m wearing black and will darken my face.”

“Dude”—I use the word deliberately—“I am wearing an invisibility cloak.”

“Ryodan and I will make the climb with Ms. Lane at dusk,” Barrons says. “Jada, you will remain here with the Keltar.”

“The bloody hell we will,” Dageus explodes.

“Bullshit,” Drustan agrees.

“No,” Jada says flatly.

“You only increase the odds of us being heard or seen as we make the climb.”

“He’s blood. Like it or not, we attend,” Drustan says softly.

“Not even you can foresee the myriad possibilities,” Jada says to Barrons. “I didn’t come this far to remain behind. The Hag might kill you both, leaving Mac dangling on the cliff. Any number of things could go wrong. There are reasons the military takes backup when they go on a dangerous mission. There are reasons you brought us. Don’t second-guess the decision you made now.”

I can’t say in front of the Keltar, yes, but Barrons and Ryodan will come back. Dageus and Drustan won’t.

“We could all be killed, lass,” Dageus says to Jada. “Any time. Any place. Think you that means a man should never go to war? War is a natural way of life.”

“I said the three of you will remain in the car,” Barrons says, and his voice resonates in the confines of the vehicle like a thousand layered voices.

Dageus laughs. “Aye, right, try that one on two druids trained in Voice since birth.”

Drustan snorts.

Even Jada appears unaffected. Damn, the woman is impervious as Ryodan.

“Looks like we’re all going,” I say dryly.

We spend another miserable eight hours packed in the car waiting for nightfall. I consider trying to slip off for a private moment with Barrons but instead we end up playing musical seats. Twenty minutes after we agreed on our plan, Jada tried to freeze-frame out with gear. She’s been firmly sandwiched between Barrons and Ryodan in the backseat ever since, with Dageus and Drustan in the front and me sprawled out on top of the gear, brooding out the rear window. At least I got a little sleep.

Night descends.

And a full moon rises. No clouds. Not one fluffy little bit of mist in sight. The moon is rimmed with crimson, casting the entire mountainous landscape an eerie blood-black hue.

“Son of a bitch,” Dageus curses.

“We could wait a week, or for a cloudy night,” I say.

“Nay,” Dageus says. “ ’Tis now or never. We do this tonight.”

Drustan eyes him curiously. “Ken you something of these events from your travels in time?”

Dageus mutters darkly, “Only that things get worse the longer it takes us to save him. Much, much worse.”

Dageus starts the Hummer and follows Ryodan’s directions, lumbering slowly toward our destination so as not to rev the engine and make more noise, then parks beneath another rocky outcropping.

“You will cooperate with our plan,” Ryodan tells Jada. “And you will not deviate.”

“I accept that,” she says with slow precision, “for one reason only. As all of you have agreed upon it, should I deviate, it would jeopardize the mission and all participants. I am not the rash child you once knew. You have my compliance. For this event.” She pauses a moment then adds softly and with the first trace of humanity I’ve seen in her cool countenance, “Never has anyone willingly taken such agony upon themselves to spare me a difficult choice. Christian was my hero when I needed one. I’ll see him freed and the Hag killed.”

I glance at Ryodan. A muscle is working in his jaw. Oh, yeah, he didn’t like that hero comment.

Then we’re all getting out and loading up cables and hooks and spikes and lacing our hiking boots tightly.

If I allow myself a moment of completely serious sincerity, though I often bitch about my current companions, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.

None of them.

Over time I’ve developed a grudging admiration and respect for Ryodan. Recent events have further honed it into something close to affection. He’s become the older, irritating brother that drives me crazy, but I’d defend him the instant someone else tried to criticize. I’ll never let him know that. I’m glad he keeps the men together. Someone needs to. I’ve also finally acknowledged to myself that I think he’s one hell of a sexy man. I thought so even before I met him, merely from his voice on the phone, the mysterious IYCGM. I’d resisted liking him with the same fervent intensity I’d devoted to disliking Barrons. I’d known from the first I could like them both more than I wanted to.

Dageus and Drustan are very similar to Barrons and Ryodan; strong men, tough, sexy, and fascinating in a human way that if I’d not met Barrons first, and they’d not been married, I’d have fallen hard for one of them. Of the two, Drustan is the stable, solid, reliable one. He exudes a palpable sense of calm competence, even in the midst of confusion. Dageus is the wild card, with a dark edge to him that’s an enormous turn-on. And their rich, husky Scots brogue is to die for.

Barrons, well, it goes without saying but I’ll say it: he’s the best of the best. The strong, silent, dangerously attractive type that harbors a private, vast, brilliant inner landscape of knowledge, wisdom, and experience, and watches, always watches, learns, adapts, evolves. A woman takes one look at the dark, carnal complexity that is Barrons and thinks: Damn, if that man chose me, took me into his inner circle, I’d never stray, never betray him. Beastly and brutal? Sure. Merciful when the situation demands it? Absolutely. Demanding? None more so. Exciting? Holy shit, yes. Respectful of my needs to make my own decisions? Most of the time.