An hour later, I pull our sweaty quartet off the highway and into a faerie circle. The girl practically falls out of the saddle upon dismounting, so I have to guide her to the ground. Once there, she sits with her head in her hands.

I grab two bottles of Gatorade from Winston's saddlebags and press one into her hands. Whatever she did, it was magic and I know from experience that you need to replenish your electrolytes after heavy use.

She sloshes it back without comment, two lines of lemon-flavored drink spilling down her chin and staining her blue garments.

Sensing that we're going to be here for a while, I loosen Winston's girth and the Arabian's as well. Pouring out two pans of water, I place them on the green grass and join Kayleigh on the ground. There's nothing remarkable about the girl—no markings that I can see, no colored hair that indicates someone changed by the Turning. Until she regains her senses, I've no idea who or what she is. I've come across a few people who can sense others' magic, but they are extremely rare and usually retained by people of power.

"You have blue hair?" I hear a small voice ask as I shake out my sweaty blue locks. In the faerie circle, the air is clean and smells good. I've forgotten that everything used to be like this.

"Welcome back," I reply instead. I've no desire to have a conversation about my hair right now. What I want is answers about what I'm bringing to Ehtab. None of this was in the mayor's contract.

Kayleigh blinks and rubs her eyes, looking around at the dust-less environment. "Where are we?"

"We're in a faerie circle. Drink your Gatorade," I prompt, nodding at the bottle. "Can't have you falling over."

"A faerie circle? What's that?"

I bite back my rising irritation. What I want is answers from the girl, not to be questioned. But she still seems a bit out of it, so I might as well stall until her brain is working properly again.

"Faerie circles are little pockets of what you might call normalcy," I explain, gesturing around to the twenty-foot diameter perfect circle. "They cropped up after the Turning. People tried to live in them, even killed over them, but the circles had other ideas. See those mushrooms?" I direct her attention to the tall, fat white caps that surround the circle. "When they turn brown, the circle kicks you out and you can't return."

"Ever?"

I shrug. "That's what I hear. If you leave before the time is up, they might let you in another time. You just have to remember to ask permission first, and thank them when you leave."

Kayleigh looks down at the ground and then brushes her hand almost reverently over the grass. "I've never seen grass before."

I glance over at Winston and the Arabian who are grazing on the unexpected treat. "I would commit this to memory if I were you because you might never see another."

She looks up. "Why?"

"Faerie circles sometimes move and they're far and few between."

"Oh." She takes a sip of Gatorade and then puts down the canteen. "You've seen a lot of stuff, haven't you?"

"Yeah." She seems lucid enough. I shift on the grass, ready to grill her.

"A lot of darkness, blood, and pain."

The way she says that sends a chill up my back, freezing the sweat that's gathered at the base of my spine. "What do you mean by that?" I snap, suspicious.

She flinches, then swallows and looks around. "I ... I sense things about people—sometimes," she adds hastily at my darkening expression.

"You're a mind-reader?" My thoughts race wildly. I'm bringing a damned mind-reader into a demon lord's palace. Does God know what Ehtab could do with someone like her?

Kayleigh shakes her head so fiercely that her curls bounce. "No. I ... I get glimpses, little flashes. Like ..." She trails off, uncertain, gesturing with her hands to make up for the lack of words. "It's like a puzzle, but I can only see a piece at a time."

I stare at her, searching for the lies. But I don't find anything but a little girl who has no idea the kind of power that she wields. But apparently, Ehtab does.

"And that little burst back there? Is that how you see things?"

She ducks her head and whispers, "No. I've never done that before."

"Do you know why I'm taking you to the City of Dust?"

"Yeah. To see my mom."

"At the Orcus Institute."

Kayleigh nods. "Yeah. She's an office manager for one of the research departments."

I blink. That ... that was not what I was expecting. I thought she was going to say that she was a lead researcher on the project that my parents were working on. An office manager would have nothing to do with Ehtab.

It looks as if I've been chasing the wrong trail the whole time. Is this what burnout looks like? I honestly didn't think that it was a thing.

"Why do you ask?"

I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose. "Just ... wondering," I tell her.

Kayleigh plucks a stem of grass and lifts it to her nose, sniffing it. What an odd thing to do, I muse, then watch, puzzled, as she pops it in her mouth to chew on.

"Taste good?" I ask sardonically as she pulls a face.

"No."

I snort and roll my eyes. "Let that be a lesson to you, kid. Don't go sticking random objects in your mouth."

Kayleigh scowls. "I'm not four."

And yet, she just ate a blade of grass. But I'm in no mood to argue with the kid. "Finish your drink," I say instead, following my own advice by cracking the seal on mine. Lemonade is the only flavor I carry; it reminds me of better days, just like everything else that I take with me.

The ridged cap grazes the cut on my palm, making me wince. I turn my hand over and stare at the small, angry red line below my pinky finger. Licking the pad of my thumb, I run it over the cut, cleaning up residual blood.

When I look up, the girl is staring at my hand. "What?" I grunt, taking a swig of Gatorade.

"You used blood magic, didn't you?"

"Yeah." I take another sip, savoring the tart lemon on my tongue. God, that feels good. Living in dust is really bad for your throat.

"Isn't blood magic, like, bad?"

I swallow a mouthful of lemonade before answering. "Magic isn't inherently 'good' or 'bad'. It's all about the intentions of the wielder. If I chose to use blood magic to murder people indiscriminately, that would be bad. But if I use it to ward us against cockatrices, it's good." I could tell her that I also use it for charms, but that's none of her business.

Kayleigh's face scrunches up as she tries to process my words. Good, maybe that will give her something to think about instead of questioning me.

One more sip and I open my hand. The cut has healed over, leaving a faint pink line that will ultimately fade into white. Just another scar to join the dozens already crisscrossing my body.

"Uhm ..."

God, now what?

"What's that?"

I look. "Are you some sort of monster magnet?" I ask as an enfield emerges from the broken tree line.

An enfield isn't as ugly or vicious as a cockatrice, but it's a monster regardless of its cuteness factor. There are bounties on them for their feathers and fur, but I've never taken a contract for one. It's one thing to kill cockatrices because they're death on chicken legs, it's another to kill something that has essentially taken the place of wolves and coyotes. I've seen enfields take down cockatrices in the field, so they have my respect.

This particular enfield is scrawny and malnourished, which may alter my stance on killing them. Hungry beasts are desperate—just like hungry humans. It stands at the edge of the faerie circle, long pink tongue lolling from vulpine jaws as it stares at us with large, orange eyes.

Whereas cockatrices look like someone took three different animals and stitched the parts together drunkenly, that same chimaerism actually flows smoothly with the enfield: Head of a fox, forelegs of an eagle, the body of a big cat, and ending with the tail of a wolf. A tuft of white and grey feathers form a crest at the top of the enfield's cream-colored head, liberally sprinkled with a layer of dust. Stiff, vestigial wings stand upright from its shoulders.

"He looks hungry."

"Well, he can sit out there and be hungry."

The girl ignores me, turns around to sit on her heels, and stares at the beast. Winston ambles up and rests his massive head on my shoulder. My hand automatically goes up to stroke his muzzle. The battle-elk sighs, his long-lashed eyes fluttering in contentment. I cut my eyes to the Arabian mare, but strangely, she's unconcerned about the wolf-sized enfield's presence.

I look around at the faerie circle, suspicion setting in. I've only stayed in one once before; Jae-Seong didn't say that they cause you to lose your senses.

"How come he won't come in?" the girl asks, not looking at me.

"Because we're in here already." I leave out the part where outsiders have to be invited in, because—

And just like that, the stupid kid extends her hand—and invitation—to the enfield.

The monster sniffs the air, then takes a cautious step through the mushroom ring. I rise swiftly to my feet, daggers in both hands. As I move to strike down the beast, the enfield plops itself down in front of Kayleigh and gently licks her outstretched fingers.

The girl giggles and brushes dust off of its cream-colored head and black-tipped ears. "I'm gonna call you ... Egon," she declares.

I'm rendered speechless. She can't be serious about keeping the enfield. Enfields aren't pets; they're wild creatures. Monsters. They're ... Honestly, I don't know what enfields are really like.

"It's not coming with us," I tell her firmly, finding my tongue.

Kayleigh twists around and looks up at me. "Why not?"

The enfield stands up, stretches, and shakes dust from its coat.

"Because I'm not being paid to lead a goddamn circus caravan!" I plant my fists on my hips, eyes narrowed.

A sly sort of look crosses the girl's face. Uh-oh ...

"Dad's contract stated that you had to protect all of my personal possessions as if they were an extension of me," she says, tilting her head to the side. "Well, Egon's is one of my possessions, just like Vera."

Who the hell is Vera? I wonder, before realizing she means the damned Arabian.

I look at the enfield, with its crazy mix of vulpine, avian, feline, and lupine features. The beast stares back at me with a glimmer of what I can only describe as intelligence. The same sort of look I've seen in Winston's eyes.

Screw this, I sigh. I'm in no mood to argue. I've got a contract to fulfill. "If it so much as looks at you the wrong way, I'm putting a bullet in its brain," I tell the girl, pointing at the enfield.

"Egon," she insists, running a hand over the top of its head.

"What?"

"His name is Egon."

I stare at her. "What—why?"

She points at Winston. "I like Ghostbusters, too, remember?"

Oh.

Dear God, three hours out and already I want this to be over with. I'm losing brain cells at a rapid pace.

"Egon," I groan. "Whatever."

Kayleigh smiles.