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she could beg anymore. Before I could buckle under the weight of my oaths.
    The kitchen was still; no one moved. Jack, Pamela, and even Alex stared at me, waiting for me to say something. Saved by the bell, a buzzer sounded through the house announcing someone at the front door. Jack glared at us, and then glared at the general direction of the door. The buzzer went off again. And again. And again.
    “Company, who fucking needs it? You three, you need to get the hell out of here so I can bloody well die in peace.” Jack thumped his cane into the floor with each step he took as he left the kitchen, presumably to greet whoever was buzzing us with such glee.
    Pamela walked to my side and slipped her arm around my waist. “I can feel it in the air, things are changing, aren’t they?”
    I draped an arm across her shoulders, as my mind once more saw the prophecies as if stamped inside my brain. “Yeah … yeah, I think they are.”

Chapter 5

    I f you’d asked me to guess who was at the door and had given me ten tries, I still would have gotten it wrong. I assumed it would be Agent Valley (who still hadn’t given up on me joining his agency), maybe Deanna or even Will.
    Nope. None of those.
    I think my jaw might have actually unhinged as the punk rocker-esque Daywalker strode into the kitchen. Jack muttered under his breath as he trailed behind his newest houseguest.
    Doran strode right up to me and kissed me on the cheek, dark green eyes all lit up with happiness, as if seeing me had just made his fucking day. His white blond hair was still tipped in black, the silver piercings above his eyebrow and in the side of his lip still glinted at me, teasing little winks. All of it was the same. Except that he was here, in London, instead of in New Mexico where he should have been.
    “What the fuck are you doing here?” I blurted out, shoving him away from me, wanting space between us. If he was here, something was wrong. And the last thing I needed was more wrong in my life.
    With a smooth fluid grace he lifted himself to sit on the counter, right next to the cookies. He took one, broke it in half and then took a bite.
    “Oh my gods, these are fantastic. Surely you didn’t make them, did you, Rylee? If you tell me you can bake as well as kick ass with the best of them, I may have to make an exception to my ‘no marrying’ rule.” He smiled around the bite of cookie in his mouth.
    “I made them,” Pamela said, her voice coming from the other side of the kitchen where she stood pressed against the industrial fridge. Her blue eyes were narrowed to slits. Her past experience with a fanged supernatural hadn’t gone too well. No, not too well at all. Her hands twitched, no doubt prepping a spell.
    Alex climbed up onto the counter to sit awkwardly next to Doran. “Alex sits too.”
    “Get off the counter, Alex.” I pointed to the floor. He slid off like a boneless Gumby doll, until he was splayed out on the floor flat on his belly.
    “No fairs.”
    I had only my bowie knife and my whip on me, stupidly having put my sword back in my bedroom. Not enough if I had to fight Doran. Shit. Of course, that was assuming he was here to cause problems. Again, I had to think he was. To come all this way for tea and cookies? Nope, that just didn’t fit.
    “I will ask you only one more time and then things are going to get nasty.” I fingered the whip’s handle. “What are you doing here?”
    Doran leaned back, popped the last of the cookie into his mouth and dusted his fingers on his black leather pants. His eyes had an odd glint in them and they flicked quickly around the room. A single bead of sweat budded on the left side of his face. Yeah, something was wrong. Shit, I hated being right.
    “May I speak with you in private, Rylee? Somewhere your new witch and the old Tracker won’t hear us?”
    I tipped my head toward the door and he slid off the counter, following me. Jack lifted an eyebrow and I pointed at Alex and Pamela.