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his druid skills to punish those people who were stupid enough to annoy him. He liked it a lot.
    Smiling, he ran his thumb over the heavy silver ring that circled his index finger.
    A symbol of his authority that made the imp pale.
    Satisfied, Anthony returned his attention to the image of the fairy.
    â€œWho is he?”
    Keeley had to clear his throat before he could speak. “He claims to be Prince Magnus.”
    A prince?
    Then he wouldn’t be alone.
    Royals always traveled with guards.
    â€œThey retreated from the world centuries ago,” he muttered. “Why would they return now?”
    The imp returned the phone to his back pocket. “There’re a dozen rumors, but no actual facts.”
    â€œWhere is he?”
    Keeley grimaced. “At the home of the Anasso.”
    The Anasso? Anthony lifted his brows. Things were getting stranger and stranger.
    He didn’t like strange any more than he liked sarcasm.
    â€œHe’s with the vampires?”
    â€œSo it would seem.”
    Anthony paced toward the priceless Botticelli painting that hung on the back wall, silently contemplating his next move.
    He wasn’t a narcissist. He didn’t believe that everything that happened in the world had something to do with him.
    Then again, he wasn’t stupid.
    The return of the Chatri after so many years had the potential to ruin everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. He had to know if they intended to cause trouble.
    He considered various ruses that might lure the Chatri to Ireland, only to dismiss them. He couldn’t wait and hope the powerful fey might choose to arrive on his doorstep.
    He needed to know now what they were planning.
    The sooner the better.
    â€œBring him to me,” he softly commanded, turning back to meet the imp’s horrified gaze.
    â€œWhat?”
    Anthony picked a piece of lint off the sleeve of his smoking jacket, waiting for the imp to gather his composure.
    â€œI believe you heard me,” he at last murmured.
    â€œWhy me?”
    â€œYou have a connection to Styx, don’t you?”
    Keeley made a strangled sound, clearly not overjoyed at the promise of being reunited with his vampire friends.
    â€œNot one that’s likely to endear me to him,” he managed to choke out. “He blamed my cousin Damocles for the destruction of the previous Anasso and he won’t have forgotten that I was related to him. He’ll kill me if I return to America.”
    â€œNonsense.” Anthony clicked his tongue. The fey, even half fey were annoyingly dramatic. “If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œKeeley, find a way to make him invite you into his home,” he interrupted, his voice deceptively gentle. “I need to know if they’ve somehow managed to discover my plans.”
    The stench of cherries made Anthony’s nose wrinkle as the imp fought his instinct to refuse the direct command.
    A wise choice.
    The vampire might kill him, but Anthony . . . ah, he would make the imp wish he were dead . . . over and over again.
    â€œAnd if they have learned that you’ve been interfering with the Commission?”
    A good question.
    Anthony reached for his glass of whiskey he’d left on a small table next to the chair.
    Unfortunately he didn’t have a good answer.
    â€œThen I suppose we will have to accelerate our timetable.”
    Keeley frowned. “Is that possible?”
    â€œYou sound concerned.” Anthony sipped his whiskey, capturing the imp’s nervous gaze. “You aren’t getting cold feet, are you?”
    â€œNo.” Keeley took a nervous step backward. Smart imp. “Of course not.”
    â€œThen bring me the Chatri.”
    Draining the whiskey, Anthony set aside the glass and headed toward the door. He was stepping into the formal gallery when he heard Keeley mutter behind him, “Bastard.”
    Anthony shrugged. The imp wasn’t