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still couldn’t stand him, but he’d sure looked hot tonight. Doesn’t anybody get that sex is what you make it, and if you treat it like nothing, it is? I don’t clean the restrooms anymore. I leave that to Val. She’s lower on the seniority totem pole.
    For the past few years, I’ve been on a quest for a good old-fashioned date, the kind where the guy calls, makes the plans, picks you up in a car that’s not his dad’s or his other girlfriend’s, and takes you somewhere that shows he put thought into what you might like, not what he might get off on like the latest how-many-naked-boobs-can-we-cram-into-this-movie-to-disguise-the-complete-lack-of-plot movie. I’m looking for the kind of date that starts with good conversation, has a sweet and satisfying middle, and ends with long, slow kisses and the dreamy feeling that you’re walking on clouds.
    â€œThat is not what I was implying. We will sit, the two of us, and talk of more than threats and fears and the differences between us. We will spend one of your hours as friends.”
    I didn’t like the careful way he’d phrased that. “One of
my
hours?”
    â€œOur hours are much longer,
sidhe
-seer. See how freely I converse with you? Telling you of our ways. So trust begins.”
    Something about the Shade drew my attention. It took me a minute to figure out what it was. Its demeanor had changed. It was still predatory, but it was angry now. I could sense it the same way I’d felt its mockery earlier. I could also sense that its anger was not directed at me. I lit another match and contemplated it. I had four matches left, and an uneasy suspicion that V’lane might be doing something to rein in the amorphous life-sucker.
    Was it possible this unnaturally strong Shade could take me, even in the light, if V’lane weren’t here right now? Had he been holding it at bay since the beginning?
    â€œOne hour,” I ground out. “But I’m not taking the cuff. And you won’t do that sexing-me-up thing. And I need coffee before we begin.”
    â€œNot now. At a time of my choosing, MacKayla.”
    He was calling me by name like we were friends. I didn’t like it one bit. I lit my third-last match. “Fine. Fix my problem.”
    I was wondering just what I’d agreed to, and how many more demands V’lane would make before getting rid of the Shade—I had no doubt he’d draw it out until the last moment to scare and humiliate me as much as possible—when he mocked silkily, “Let there be light,” and suddenly all the lights in the room popped on.
    The Shade exploded, shattering into countless dark pieces. They scrabbled toward the night, frantic cockroaches fleeing a bombed room, and I could sense the Unseelie was in unspeakable pain. If light didn’t kill them, it was certainly their version of Hell.
    After the last quivering fragment scuttled over the sill, I hurried to shut the window. The alley was once again brightly lit. And empty.
    V’lane was gone.
    Â 
    I collected my flashlights, tucked them back into my waistband, and walked through the store, hunting for Shades lurking in corners or hiding in closets. I found none. All the lights were back on, inside and out.
    It disturbed me deeply. As effortlessly as V’lane had helped me, he could dump me back into the dark if he felt like it, without ever even having to enter the store.
    What else could he do? How powerful was a Royal Fae? Shouldn’t the wards keep him from being able to influence physical matter beyond them? Speaking of wards, why hadn’t they kept out the Shades? Had Barrons only warded the property against the Lord Master? If he could perform such tricks, why not ward the entire building against everything? Except, of course, store patrons, although it was obvious the bookstore was just a cover—Barrons needed more money like Ireland needed more rain.
    I
needed