Glimmerglass

“It’s not a police matter,” Finn said when he finished chewing.

“What? How can that possibly not be a police matter?” My voice had risen almost to a shout, but I forced myself to quiet down. “What kind of backward, crazy-ass place is this?”

His lips twitched, but it was a sorry excuse for a smile, even if he did find my outburst amusing.

“It’s not a police matter because the Knights are from Faerie. I’m sure they were back over the border before the police even got to the shop.”

“Well, aren’t there Fae on the police force? Can’t they go into Faerie after them?”

“Can the U.S. police force chase criminals into foreign countries?” He obviously knew the answer, because he didn’t pause for a reply. “The chances of getting someone extradited from Faerie are approximately nil. Which is why they could afford so brazen an attack.”

I let my fork clatter on my plate. “So let me get this straight. Anyone from Faerie can just waltz into Avalon, commit whatever crime they feel like committing, and then waltz back into Faerie? And no one can do anything about it?”

“That’s overstating it. Getting into Avalon isn’t a simple thing. We have to guard the borders against the various creatures of Faerie who are not permitted to enter. But if the person wanting to enter is Sidhe, and there has been no specific order issued to prevent them from entering…” He shrugged. “Your food is getting cold.”

Great. Now I had two Fae fathers in Avalon. I was still hungry, though, so I picked up my fork and took a few bites before I went on the attack again.

“What about leaving Avalon?” I asked. “I’d have to go through immigration to get out. What about those Knights?”

“You go through immigration to get into England, not out of Avalon. There is no immigration process in Faerie. Now let me finish eating in peace.”

He’d probably talked more during this dinner than he had in the last week. I stopped with the questions, but I was still thinking furiously. If the Sidhe could come and go from Faerie whenever they pleased, then my life would be constantly in danger. I’d have Finn to guard me, of course, but today had proven that one guy—no matter how strong and magically gifted—wasn’t always going to be able to keep me safe. When that Knight had grabbed me today, I’d been about as useful as some horror-movie scream queen.

“Do you think you could teach me some basic self-defense?” I asked Finn when we’d finished eating and were clearing the dishes.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “No amount of self-defense would have helped against the Knights,” he told me. “Had your father had any inkling that Knights might be sent against you, he would not have let you leave the house without a considerably larger retinue.”

Not what I wanted to hear. “I’m not asking you to turn me into some kind of super-ninja. I just don’t want to feel completely defenseless.”

“But against Knights, you are.”

“That’s not the point,” I said, wondering if he was being deliberately obtuse. “At least if I had some clue how to defend myself, I’d know how to try to get away. Besides, at the rate I’m making enemies, I could easily be attacked by someone other than a Knight.”

For the first time, Finn looked like he was considering the idea. He crossed his arms over his impressive chest and gave me an assessing look.

“It is against the Knight’s code of conduct to share our training with someone who is not a Knight.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off with a gesture. “But, ” he said, “with your father’s approval, I can arrange for someone else to give you some basic instruction.”

There was a hint of a grin on his lips, and it made me suspicious. “Do you have someone particular in mind?” I asked.

Finn looked almost smug. “I do. And I can almost guarantee he’ll provide you with just the motivation you need to harness your inner warrior.”

“And exactly what does that mean?” I asked, beginning to think I might not like getting what I asked for.

“I’ll let you find that out for yourself.”

I swear, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes held just a touch of evil.

Dad didn’t get back until almost ten—it must have been some dinner meeting. I was sitting on the couch with Finn at that point, watching a weird British sitcom where I only got about a third of the jokes. Finn didn’t exactly yuck it up either, but the faint smile on his face every time the laugh track went off suggested he was enjoying it.

Even in the few hours we’d spent together tonight, Finn’s condition had visibly improved. He moved much more easily as he rose from the couch to greet my dad. The two of them had a brief conversation before Dad thanked Finn and sent him on his way.

Dad opened what turned out to be a liquor cabinet and poured himself a healthy dose of what I think was brandy. He swirled it around his glass, but didn’t immediately drink.

“I’m guessing from the look on your face and the fact that you immediately dove for the booze that things didn’t go so well?” I asked.

His expression lightened, and he snorted softly before taking a small sip of his brandy. He gestured me to the sofa, and we sat on opposite ends.

“It went about as I expected,” he said. “We all immediately agreed that it was imperative we work together to keep you safe. And then we spent the next three hours arguing over how best to do that.” He laughed, shaking his head and taking another sip of brandy.