Chapter One

Stratton Bright of the Nightshade Fae Clan stood just inside the Gothic manor, feeling as if he'd stepped back in time. There were several wall-mounted sources of light with Edison bulbs lining the foyer. The day was dreary and overcast with night fast approaching only adding to how dark the room felt. None of the electricity looked up to code or anything like what was popular now. The home was virtually untouched by any other modern amenities that he could see or sense. It reminded him more of a museum. One created to preserve a snapshot in time. When electricity in homes was a new invention.

Connected to nature, Stratton was able to sense it at all times. His system craved nature, needing it to recharge the magik he'd been born with. He could store reserves of power within himself for several days, but without the aid of the ring he wore, he couldn't go much longer than that without being out in nature once again.

Out of habit, Stratton slid his thumb along the underside of his Nightshade Hunter ring. For centuries it had been with him, something he was never without. The cushion-cut purple amethyst gemstone lay cradled in a frame of sigils. Each sigil had a meaning. Some were for healing. Some were there to ward off evil. Others were there to help channel his magik, amplifying it even should the need arise.

One side of the ring held the Nightshade Fae Clan's crest. On the other side of the ring there was a word stamped into the metal with Fae words beneath it, announcing him to be of the Hunter's Guild. Additional markings gave his ranking in the guild. In human terms, his ranking was the equivalent of a major in the army. It took centuries to achieve such a level.

The stone on his ring had a purpose beyond aesthetics. It had calming properties. In combination with the sigils, the ring acted much like a portable battery. One that was able to recharge, giving its wearer stores of energy it had at the ready.

With modern advancements came many things that got in the way of a Fae's ability to recharge from nature. Things like concrete, electric wires, tall buildings, and the absence of grass or forest areas, all hindered a Fae. It made living in large cities challenging but not impossible for his kind. It's why Stratton hated assignments that left him having to live in a sprawling metropolis.

Sadly, his placement was out of his hands, and he seemed to be in a permanent state of getting sent to one.

He'd been stationed out of New York City for the past five years and absolutely hated it. He had only himself to blame for the assignment. His propensity for talking back to superiors and questioning nearly every directive left Stratton at odds with those in power within the Nightshade Clan. The ones who made the rules and handed out placements for the Fae, who served in what was best described as government roles.

As a hunter his role was basically a bounty hunter, a tracker, a police detective, parole officer, a marshal, and a social worker, all wrapped into one. There were other duties involved in what he did, but those were the highlights. He left a lot to be desired on the social worker front. He wasn't what anyone would label as being good with people. Thankfully, that duty would be off his plate soon.

In addition to everything that was required of him on the Fae side of his life, the human side, the one that allowed him to live among them without raising too many eyebrows, was that of a homicide detective. Stratton's human coworkers were blissfully unaware of the truth of what he was and of what else existed in the world.

Humans couldn't handle the truth.

The minute someone broke social norms or showed any signs of being different from the rest of the sheep, they panicked, tried to kill it, and then dissected it to learn all its secrets. There were days Stratton honestly had to wonder why it was he fought so hard to keep their kind safe.

Were they worth the effort?

He wasn't so sure anymore.

All they seemed to do was find new ways to destroy the planet, and they were constantly at war with one another. Too stupid to realize the real enemy wasn't another country or another religion. It was certain factions of supernaturals who would just as soon eat a human than bother to protect it.

Case in point, last night Stratton had been dealing with a supernatural-related kill. There was no way a human had been behind the attack. Not with the scene he and his cousin had walked in on. Some poor guy who had been working the night shift at a small burger joint in the city had been attacked. A customer had found him—or what was left of him—when he'd gotten tired of waiting in the drive-thru line and decided to go into the restaurant to speak to a manager.

That's when he saw it.

The burger guy's body had been shoved into the fry warming area. A spot that was far too small for a fully grown man. Whatever had done it had wrapped the man like a pretzel and crammed him in.

It had taken the responding medical examiner techs nearly an hour to get the man out of the machine, and even that had involved cutting the body into pieces. The fire department's help had been required. Every one of them looked traumatized for life.

Stratton had seen worse.

Far worse.

Once the body (or rather the parts of the body) was extracted, the death investigator was quick to point out the massive hole in the back of the man's head as the possible cause of death. Though it could have been the fact the victim's left leg was missing, as was his right hand. Whatever had taken them had used something sharp, making a clean cut on both appendages. Within seconds it became clear to everyone there was something else missing from the victim.

His brain.

The brain hadn't been removed surgically. It had looked more like the assailant had treated the victim's head like a coconut. Cracking it open with blunt force and then scooping out the gooey inner filling.

There were too many creatures that fed on brains running around under the noses of humans to just take a wild stab at which was responsible. But his gut said ghoul or zombie. They had the strength to treat a human body like an accordion, bending it to suit their needs. But they weren't known for wanting anything to do with limbs. They were brain-only feeders, not limb collectors, and they wouldn't have taken the time to make clean cuts. They'd have simply ripped off the appendages with sheer brute force.

Stratton and Drest hadn't even finished at the burger joint's crime scene before they were called to the scene of another suspicious murder. Early reports coming in from there indicated that the victim was missing his right leg and left hand. If that was the case, whatever was doing the killing was on a spree.

They needed to be out working the streets and running down any possible leads, not thirty miles away from the city in Tarrytown, making a damn house call. Stratton still wasn't a hundred percent clear on why they were here. Getting a straight answer out of Drest had proven difficult, making the car ride over fun. All Stratton knew so far was that Drest had gotten a call from one of his charges and dropped everything to rush over.

All Nightshade Hunters were assigned charges, supernaturals they were responsible for watching over, either because they were under sanctions put in place by people above his pay grade, or because they required extra protection. Much like the human version of witness protection, the supernaturals had one as well.

Until they'd arrived at the charge's home, Stratton hadn't been entirely sure which side of the fence they fell. Once he realized exactly what family they were currently standing in the home of, he figured out quickly it wasn't the witness protection side of the job.

Nope.

It was the sanctions side and this family had enough to fill a book. They'd had so many issues at one point in the past that Drest and Stratton had been assigned to them. They'd mellowed slightly over the years, but wherever trouble was, one of them was sure to follow or be standing smack-dab in the center.

There was a loud bang from beneath Stratton's feet, leaving him staring at the dark hardwood floor. The wall sconces shook, the lights flickered, and numerous framed photographs ended up crooked. And just like that, it was shaping up to be a repeat performance of past infractions. "What was that?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask," said Drest, who had his arms crossed over his chest as a tic developed in his jaw. He'd been sentenced, or stationed when being nicer about it, to New York right along with Stratton. That had more to do with the fact Drest always had Stratton's back than Drest having an issue with authority. Currently, he didn't look altogether that thrilled with whatever was going on. He probably knew how much paperwork he was in for.

The hubbub from below subsided. The lights stopped flickering and the photographs, all of which were in black and white, remained tipped. Stratton knew many of the faces from the older photos from having dealt with them years prior. It looked like the younger generations were doing their best to follow the family tradition of screwing up.

"You have got to be kidding me. What could they possibly be up to now?" questioned Stratton, wanting to get back to his hunt for the burger guy's killer. This was a stop that could have waited. "And why, exactly, did we need to drop everything and rush here? What's the big emergency?"

Drest turned his aggravated look on Stratton. "Because Rachael called and asked for help."

"That means nothing to me. This family is your responsibility, not mine," said Stratton. "We should be hunting for leads on our case. Not here."

"We are working a lead on the case," Drest replied, a certain sad note touching his voice.

As Stratton realized what his cousin was saying without actually saying the words, he tensed. The more Stratton thought on it all, the more his stomach knotted. The family's rather sordid past had involved body parts. In fact, they'd sort of made the whole piecemealing of body parts famous.

If they were involved, it would be bad. Very bad. There was no way in hell anyone from this house or this family would be stupid enough to have ties to the murders in the city and the missing body parts. It was one thing to still get into mischief, and dance on the edge of violating overreaching sanctions, but it was an entirely different matter to commit the very crime that left the entire family living under a microscope for over two hundred years. It could mean a death sentence for them or, at the very least, a hell of a stint in prison.

Supernatural prisons were nothing to joke about. They were made to hold just about anything, and the stay there was anything but pleasant.

And why didn't his cousin sound so upset that they might be involved? He sounded annoyed, yes, but not angry. If they were part of it, it would reflect badly on him. He was their assigned hunter after all. What they did could and would blow back on Drest.

And why had Drest's voice changed when he'd answered the call from Rachael? It had softened, like someone would do when talking to their lover, not a charge.

Stratton had heard the name Rachael before but had only met her for the first time when she'd opened the front door for them today. Her dark gaze had relaxed when she'd looked at Drest, as if his sheer presence was going to right all the wrongs in the world.

Strange.

Come to think of it, Drest had looked at her oddly too.

With a tip of his head, Stratton grunted. "You had better not be involved with her. You know the rules on that. No fraternizing with…"

Drest's jaw clenched. "Leave it alone, cousin."

Stratton took a moment to find his center in an effort to keep from saying something he couldn't take back. He'd been on something of a relaxation kick for the past decade. It had yet to actually stick, but he tried all the same.

Drest noticed what he was doing and snorted. "Have you tried getting a full night's sleep? It would help your mood more than that deep breathing crap."

Getting a full night's sleep wasn't as easy as it sounded. With as long as he'd been alive, Stratton had seen and done a lot of things he regretted. Most of which had been under the orders of the Nightshade Clan, but that didn't take from it any or lessen his culpability. It kept him awake at night, along with the demons of his past as they whispered, almost taunting him.

Before Stratton could respond, Rachael returned to the foyer area. She'd insisted on getting them something to drink despite their protests when they'd first arrived, and they'd been standing there waiting ever since.

Stratton was of the opinion that if the emergency they'd dropped everything to rush over for had been that great, she wouldn't have made time for drinks. He didn't voice as much.

Rachael had a tray with everything needed to serve tea in her hands, trying to balance it as she basically waddled with as far along in the pregnancy as she was. She didn't look much older than twenty-five or twenty-six and was extremely attractive. She also looked less than comfortable because she was very, very pregnant.

Stratton chanced a quick glance at his cousin to find Drest's full attention was locked upon the female again. The way in which he stared at her explained a lot—like why he had such a damn soft spot for a family that had been nothing but trouble for two hundred years. He nudged his cousin with his elbow, catching Drest's ribs.

Drest shot him a hard look.

Stratton's eyes widened slightly as he mouthed "she's pregnant."

Drest's gaze snapped back to the woman, his look of desire only increasing. He rushed to the woman, easing the tray from her. He then headed into the sitting room off to their right.

Stratton followed. The room was a rather long rectangle, with ample seating and another room off it where a baby grand piano sat. This area lacked any kind of modern technology that Stratton could see as well.

"Rachael, you didn't need to go to all this trouble," said Drest, his voice coming off softer than normal.

"It's no trouble," she responded with a breathy sigh, their gazes locked firmly on one another. "It's been a while since I last saw you. I mean, since you paid us a visit to check in on things."

Stratton merely watched the interaction, deciding it best to keep his mouth shut.

Drest continued to stand there, staring at Rachael, holding the tray of tea. "I know. I haven't been able to get away. I wanted to." He looked pained. "Things have been busy at work."

She was part of his job, but he certainly wasn't talking to her like she was. If the higher-ups found out Drest had a thing for Rachael, it would not end well. Stratton had once known a hunter who had fallen for one of the people he'd been charged with overseeing. When the higher-ups found out, they'd yanked the hunter from duty there and sent him to Siberia.

Literally to Siberia.

There had been some talk of that rule possibly being tweaked or amended in the future, but for now, Rachael was off-limits. That didn't seem to matter to Drest one bit.

He and Rachael stared at one another for a long and incredibly noticeable stretch of time.

Drest came out of his daze and set the tray full of tea on a side serving table. He then opened the leaf of the table as if he'd done so before. In fact, he seemed quite at home.

Stratton cleared his throat, no longer wanting to be a witness to whatever relationship his cousin had going on. He'd never seen Drest behave this way. Sure, Drest liked the ladies as much as Stratton, but this was something altogether different.

As Stratton thought harder on it, he realized Drest hadn't been sleeping around for a while now. He tried to remember the last time he'd had to yank his cousin out of bed with some random woman lying next to him. When Stratton realized it had been even longer than he thought, his eyes widened. Was Drest romantically involved with Rachael, and if so, was it serious?

His gaze snapped to her pregnant belly. No. Drest couldn't be the father. There was no way Drest would have found his mate and not mentioned as much to Stratton. Something that huge would have been shared, even if his mate was one of the people he was charged with monitoring. Not swept under the rug.

It wasn't as if Drest could reproduce with any kind of ease with anyone other than his mate. It was a checks-and-balance system nature had in place to prevent supernaturals from overpopulating. Stratton hadn't really ever given much thought to finding his mate. When he was younger, he used to worry he'd find her right away and that would effectively clip his balls before he had a chance to sow his wild oats. And then, as the decades passed with no sign of her, he began to worry he may not have one.

Not every supernatural did.

The air pressure changed slightly, yanking Stratton from his thoughts on mates and raising his inner alarms. If he didn't know better, he'd have said something of Dark Fae origin was in the vicinity. A creature. Something non-homolid? A potential threat.

He turned slowly in the direction the sensation was coming from and peered into the room with the piano. A number of houseplants filled the room, partially eclipsing sections of it. Nothing stuck out to him as being a threat; then again, if there was a creature and if it was smart, it would sense Stratton was a hunter and it'd steer clear of him.

Drest was too busy staring at Rachael to notice. That or Stratton's inner radar was off the mark. It didn't happen often, but it wasn't out of the realm of possibility either. He'd not had any sleep in the last thirty-six hours and couldn't remember if he'd eaten recently, things had been that busy with work.

He took a step in the direction of the piano room and had the strangest urge to go the other way, back to the foyer he'd only just been standing in. That the Dark Fae he was sensing was the least of his concerns at the moment. That something much, much more dangerous was close. His power was what most in the supernatural world considered death magik. The Nightshade Clan were masters of the craft when it came to death spells and dealing with souls. His power slid through him, making him very aware something death-related was near.

Against nature.

Wrong.

He followed the pull, letting it lead him to where he needed to be. Stratton found himself where he'd started—back in the foyer. His attention centered on a large wooden door that was shut.

Drest trailed behind him out to the foyer as well. "What is it?"

Stratton nodded to the door. "Where does that go?"

Rachael joined them, her gaze darting to the door in question. She swallowed hard and tipped her head down, her dark hair falling partially into her face. She was hiding something.

"The basement," Drest said, clearly knowing the layout of the home well. "What are you picking up on?"

"I don't know," admitted Stratton, letting his power up a little more. "But something isn't right. The sensation is similar to what I get when I'm near a cemetery. Is there one close to here?"

"Down the road," said Drest. "Far enough that you shouldn't be feeling it."

"Are you getting anything?" he asked, his gaze sliding to his cousin.

"No, but I've not been operating at full strength for some time," said Drest.

This was the first Stratton was hearing of Drest's power problems. He nearly questioned him about it but stopped, his gaze flickering to Rachael. If she was expecting Drest's child, it would naturally draw upon Drest's energy. Such was the way of it for Fae children. It would pull additional resources from Drest if the other parent wasn't Fae or had very little in them.

Drest caught him looking at Rachael. "Leave it be. We can discuss it later."

"Something tells me we should have talked about it months ago," returned Stratton with a grunt.

A series of loud bangs and a clattering noise came from below them. It sounded like someone was operating a steam engine in the basement. That or something was about to detonate.

Chapter Two

Stratton braced himself, thinking there might actually be an explosion.

Drest covered the distance to Rachael, standing closer than was considered polite. He put himself between the woman and the basement door in a protective manner. His hands found her shoulders. "Rachael, honey, tell me Henry's not conducting experiments down there again."

"Honey?" echoed Stratton, positive he'd heard his cousin wrong.

Drest ignored him.

Rachael's worried gaze darted to Stratton.

"Honey, look at me," said Drest, confirming Stratton did indeed hear his pet-name the woman. "Don't worry about him. I need to know what your brother is doing down there. Tell me it's not what I think it is. I know Henry has talked about re-creating Victor's experiments, but he'd never really be that foolish, would he? It's forbidden for a reason."

Already the family's past transgressions had left countless lives lost, and Stratton, Drest, and others like them hunting monsters. If someone in the family was trying to catch lightning in a bottle (pun intended) again, it meant they might very well have ties to the murders in the city. It also meant the family would be made to stand before a council that would decide their fate, and Drest could end up stationed out of Siberia—or worse.

"Drest," Rachael said, her hand going to his forearm. "Henry's not himself. Not after what happened to Amice. He's always been passionate about certain things, and—"

Drest stiffened. "He's been adamant that the rules and restrictions shouldn't be in place."

She nodded. "Our father understood what had to be. When he was still alive, Dad was able to talk Henry off the ledge of insanity. Amice was good at it too, but even she got tired of trying to constantly rein him in. I couldn't blame her. He's a handful. I know."

"He's your older brother," said Drest, his nostrils flaring. "He should be the one looking out for you. Not the other way around."

She touched his chest. "I know, but he's family and he'd never hurt me. You know that."

"I'm starting to wonder if that's true," said Drest, looking her over. He then cupped her face gently. "I hate that I've not been able to be here to help with everything. I swear, I'm working on finding a way that we can finally be—"

Stratton lifted a hand. "Don't finish that sentence because later when I'm asked about this, I want to have plausible deniability."

Drest cast him an unamused look.

Rachael's hands went to her swollen stomach. "Henry isn't happy about this. I think he's figured out that, um, well, you know."

Stratton took a deep breath. She was going out of her way to avoid naming Drest as the father. He was sure of it. "Shit," he muttered. "I mean, on one hand, congratulations, on the other, what in the hell were you thinking, Drest? You should have told me."

"Because you'd take the news so well?" asked Drest with a pointed stare.

Stratton grunted. "Well, I know now. Means I'm an accomplice. What can I do to help and what in the hell is making all that ruckus downstairs? Is someone down there doing what I really hope they are not, or did someone take up an interest in steam engines?"

Rachael rubbed her belly with one hand and the other went to her back. It was evident she was uncomfortable.

Drest drew her closer to him and placed a hand on her stomach as well. It was easy to sense Drest's magik as he eased it into the woman. "Better?"

Rachael sank against him. "Yes. Thank you."

Drest ignored the loud thumps from below and focused on Rachael. He kissed her temple, his hand still on her stomach. "I'm so sorry, honey, that I haven't been able to be here like I should be. You wouldn't be this uncomfortable if I were."

"It's fine," she said softly.

Stratton glanced at his cousin, and they shared a look that said it was anything but fine.

"The pounding and noises have been happening for days," said Rachael as she faced the basement door. "I tried to talk him into coming up to eat but he refuses. He's taken a few breaks from whatever it is he has going on down there, but that's about it."

"Has he taken the breaks here?" asked Drest, his gaze sliding back to Stratton. "Or is he leaving?"

Rachael tensed. "Leaving. He's been using the outside access point to the basement and not coming through the house. He takes the old van and is gone for hours."

Stratton didn't say what he was thinking, but he strongly suspected Drest was coming to the same conclusion. Henry had something to do with the murders and missing body parts.

Rachael teared up. "I've made a mess of things, Drest. I thought I could maybe control Henry's outbursts and tame his irrational ideas. But he's worse now than he's ever been. Since Amice died, he's…he's like Uncle Nile was before he went off the deep end."

Stratton knew all about Rachael's uncle. He'd heard all about it from Drest, who'd been forced to handle the blowback and cleanup. Having one of the people you're responsible for overseeing end up being a lunatic who stole body parts from morgues all over New York City didn't do great things for you as far as the higher-ups were concerned. Thankfully, the man hadn't taken any lives, only body parts from those who were already deceased. Still, it had been something of an ordeal for Drest. In the end, Nile was left rotting away in a supernatural holding facility for the criminally insane for the past several years.

"I'm sure it's just a coincidence," said Drest, his voice lacking conviction. "But it's part of why we got here so fast after you called. Honey, there's a chance that we might have to take Henry in."

"I know," she said softly.

The smallest of movements caught Stratton's attention, and he realized there was something, or someone, hiding in the corner, watching them from the shadows of the parlor. A tiny head of wavy dark brown, nearly black hair showed first, followed by a small, round face and huge green eyes, filled to the brim with curiosity. It was a little girl. She offered a thin smile. Her gaze darted to Rachael.

"Are they taking Daddy somewhere?" she asked, her tiny voice making Stratton feel the need to protect her and spare her any emotional distress.

"No," blurted Stratton.

She blinked, let out a tiny gasp, and then shot back behind the plant.

Drest guffawed. "Way to go, cousin. Your glower scared a child, and you know as well as I do that if Henry is linked to what happened in the city, or if he's picked up where Nile left off, he's going to have to be taken in."

"I know, but look at her. You want to tell her that her father might leave?" asked Stratton.

Drest glanced toward the little girl. "Not particularly."

"That's what I thought. And I didn't glower," protested Stratton as the child poked her head out once more. Stratton raised a brow, fighting the urge to laugh.

She locked gazes with him again, but this time she narrowed her eyes on him. One of her brows shot up. It took him a second to realize she was mirroring his expression.

Stratton made a silly face.

She returned it, giggling softly from the other room.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

Again, she mirrored him before giggling once more and darting back behind the plant and piano.

"Never thought I'd see you playing with a kid," said Drest. "It's nice."

"I'm not playing with her," said Stratton, realizing then that he was. "Why is she hiding?"

Rachael came closer to him. "She's skittish. Has been ever since it happened."

"Since what happened?" asked Stratton, his chest growing tight at the idea the child had gone through anything traumatic.

Confusion coated Rachael's expression. She glanced at Drest. "Is he new to the area?"

Drest smiled weakly. "No. He's my cousin, Rachael. The one I told you about."

"The one who doesn't like this side of the job?" she asked, clearly having had long talks with Drest at some point about him. "Or us?"

Stratton would have commented but the little girl peeked out at him again. He made another funny face.

She darted behind the plant so fast that she bumped into the piano with a loud thud. She cried out softly.

Stratton made an attempt to go to her, only to have Rachael touch his arm. "No. She's never been great with strangers. The fact she's even shown herself while you're here is a big deal. It took Drest months to get her to venture out when he was here. Losing her mother the way she did, and seeing it happen, made everything worse."

"She watched her mother pass away?" asked Stratton.

Drest lowered his voice. "The family I mentioned that went off the road in their vehicle…near the bridge here in town."

It had been just over a month since Drest had told him about the freak accident. The one that happened near the bridge forever burned into the public's mind in Irving's tale of the headless horseman. Drest had never once mentioned the family involved in it all had been one of his charges. All he'd said was that he was taking a weekend off to attend a memorial service. Then he'd spoken no more of the incident.

Rachael choked back a small sob. "Henry hasn't been himself since it happened."

"She still having nightmares?" asked Drest, looking pained. It was clear he more than cared about the little girl as well.

Rachael nodded. "She wakes up screaming about —" she glanced toward the child and winced, "you know what being on the road, at the bridge. Henry told me she started screaming in the backseat of the car—that Amice was worried about her and insisted Henry pull over, but that he kept going, trying to calm her down as he drove. He took his eyes off the road for a second and, well, you know the rest."

Stratton had a funny feeling they were going out of their way to avoid saying anything about a man on a horse who was missing his head. Stratton didn't believe for a second the stories of the headless horseman were true. Some things were simply too preposterous even for him to swallow without a grain of salt. "Are you trying to tell me she thinks she saw the headless horseman?"

Drest stared at him a second, his lips in a thin line.

Rachael sucked in a big breath and nodded. "Yes, and she's been scared every night since."

That left Stratton falling silent.

"You did a good thing by calling me, Rachael," said Drest. "We'll handle Henry and we can even look at getting his daughter the help she needs to be able to sleep at night again. Trauma is a serious thing."

She shook her head. "It gets worse."

"How so?" questioned Drest.

Stratton was all ears, curious to hear more.

"Uncle Nile called the house two days after Amice's memorial service," stressed Rachael. "He called a lot over the next three weeks. Most of the times, Henry took the calls downstairs."

Drest flinched. "Shit."

"Mouth," warned Rachael with a nod toward the child in the other room.

"Sorry," said Drest. "Did you check on what he was doing down there?"

Rachael stiffened. "No. I don't go down there. You know that."

Drest drew Rachael into his arms. "I know, hon."

The child picked then to ease out again from her not-so-hidden hiding spot. This time she crawled on her hands and knees in their direction as if that might keep her from being seen.

Stratton had to admit it was adorable. Children normally annoyed him.

Greatly.

This one wasn't so bad. She was in a black dress, with white lilies all over it, and white tights that were dingy and tattered more than likely from heavy play. Around her neck was a black pendant hanging from an equally black cord. Stratton had seen pendants like that before and recognized what it was at once.

It was an enchanted containment device used to house dangerous Fae and demons alike. The types of things that had the ability to straddle realms with relative ease but that could not be left unsupervised. Every one that he'd ever encountered had been deadly. What in the hell was a child doing wearing a pendant that housed something that dangerous? Select Nightshade Clan members were given them during their version of a coming-of-age ceremony, often occurring around the age of fifteen. The child was far too young to have one and far too…human.

Anger flared through him, and before he could stop himself, he was rounding on Rachael. He pointed back at the little girl. "Who gave her that?"

Rachael jerked.

Drest pushed in front of her and gave Stratton a one-handed shove. "Calm down."

"Did you see what the child is wearing?" he demanded.

Drest glanced past him. "A dress?"

"No. The containment pendant," returned Stratton through partially clenched teeth.

"Oh, that?" asked Drest with a shrug.

"'Oh, that?'" repeated Stratton in a tone that said he was anything but amused. "Yes, that!"

"Relax, cousin," stated Drest. "She's had it since she was born.

"Since she was born? They aren't handed out until a Fae is fifteen, and that's only if that Fae is destined for the Keeper Guild." Stratton's anger grew to the point that he could no longer contain it. Power bristled through him, causing his skin to tingle and the air around him to thicken with something akin to static energy. His ring heated, only serving to increase the rapid build of power.

Drest stepped back, forcing Rachael back as well, his eyes widening as he shook his head. "Strat, get a grip before someone ends up hurt!"