I gave her a long look. Since we'd arrived Earthside, Delilah's unfailing optimism had started to crack ever so slightly. "I'll be careful, I promise." I gave her a kiss on the forehead before heading toward the stairs. A veiled shriek from the wind caught my attention, and I stopped to glance out the window at the leaves that rustled and whirled to the ground.

She followed my gaze. "There's an ill wind blowing tonight."

I closed my eyes. Delilah was right. The wind was filled with graveyard dust and the footsteps of the dead walking. As I headed up to my room, I thought about the events of the evening. We might have been considered disposable before, but with Shadow Wing looming in, the OIA was going to need every hand at the ready, even if they didn't realize it yet. And we were leading the brigade.

My apartment on the third floor reflected my many moods. Four rooms and a bath, I'd turned one into a magical sanctuary, which included the only balcony in the house. With a table and chair under a rainproof awning, I could sit beneath the starlight and recharge myself.

As I slipped out of my work clothes, framed by the chill of the night, my body ached. Last time I'd had sex had been back in Otherworld. Too long for my tastes, but no one Earthside had caught my fancy. In fact, nobody had touched me since my last meeting with Trillian. And now he was inching back into my life, even if only through a lone message.

A Svartan, he was one of the dark Fae from Svartalfheim, a city in the Subterranean Realms. But Trillian had turned sides and moved to Otherworld. We met under a dark moon one night when I was feeling particularly vulnerable, and from the first touch, he'd left me spoiled for anyone else. Trillian had stolen my heart as easily as he'd claimed my body. I'd ripped myself away from him when I realized what was happening, but once you've been with a Svartan, there's no going back.

He'd pursued me for months, and I finally ended up taking some time away from work, hiding at home protected by my sisters until I felt strong enough to stand on my own. But since then every man had paled in comparison, and I still craved the passion with which Trillian had chained me. He was a bad boy and I knew it, but I missed him.

I ran my fingers down my body, lingering over my breasts as my nipples stiffened. Catching my breath, I forced myself to drop my hand. I didn't have time to indulge my fancy. I had work to do.

I opened my closet and dug through until I found what I was looking for—an ankle-length black skirt, a long-sleeved blouse that would keep me warmer than a fur coat, and a spider-silk cape that reached my knees. All were Otherworld garments, woven to glide through the forest with ease and to keep out the cold.

Sliding into the skirt and top, I laced up a pair of leather ankle boots and stared at myself in the mirror. My face was a pale shadow against the flowing cape that would offer me easy passage through the woods, unfettered by the thick undergrowth that grew in this area. And my eyes glowed brilliant violet against the raven hair and pale skin. At times they were flecked with silver—when I had been working magic for a long time, or when I walked the paths of Otherworld.

With a sigh, I sank to the edge of the bed, homesick. Earth might have been my mother's home world, but it wasn't mine. And yet, neither was Otherworld. I knew Delilah and Menolly felt the same way. We were caught between worlds, caught between races, caught between dimensions. When we were children our playmates taunted us, calling us Windwalkers—beings who never settled in one place, who never belonged to a land or a clan.

When we'd joined the OIA, we'd hoped that it would bring us closer to our father's people. But our strangeness had only been accentuated since Menolly had been captured and transformed. And now… now there was no going back, even if we wanted to.

Bracing myself, I strode to the door and raced out into the night. I jumped in my Lexus—a steel-gray shadow hidden in the mist that was rising—and pulled out of the driveway, glancing up at the moon, who was peeking through a break in the clouds. We were bound, she and I, by the oaths and trials I'd taken during my initiation. I could always count on the Moon Mother to watch over me and to drive me into a frenzy when she went full and the Hunt was on the prowl.

Grandmother Coyote lived in the woods on the outskirts of Belles-Faire. She'd been drawn to this place because of the portals, and she guarded one outside of the OIA's jurisdiction. By day she was just an old woman reading fortunes in a dim little shop on the wrong side of town. By night, she came into her own, because Grandmother Coyote was one of the Hags of Fate. She neither wove nor created destiny but simply watched it unfold. Sometimes, for a price, she would look at the strands and read what was most likely to happen.

Once I reached the edge of the wood, I stepped out of the car and closed my eyes, dropping my head back to catch the wind. "Show me the way," I whispered, and the stars heard me from behind their cloud cover and answered. The sound of singing echoed from deep within the stand of cedar and fir.

I moved through the bushes like a fish through water as branches slid away from the material of my cape. Creeping around thick cedar and fir trunks, I clambered over a leaf-strewn windfall that blocked my path, taking down a spider's web strung between two trees. The arachnid landed on my hand, and I gave her a little tap and sent her on her way, watching as the striped orb weaver clambered along one of the remaining threads and began reweaving her net. Like all of my father's kin, I could see in the dark, perhaps not quite as clearly as a full-blood Sidhe, but enough to recognize colors and shapes with little difficulty.

After a few minutes, the huckleberry and bracken fern gave way, and I entered the center of a small grove, circular and mossy and open to the sky. I paused, feeling my way through the energy. Magic ran thick here—the magic of old woodlands and dark lords and deep secrets. Some FBHs could feel it. Some of the human witches and pagans had flocked to my store, their eyes shining because what they so long believed had come true, though in ways that often shocked them.

I reached out, searching, and then I felt her. Grandmother Coyote. She was watching from behind one of the lone oaks that dotted the copse.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are. I have questions and concerns for you, Grandmother. You are needed," I whispered.

Within moments the undergrowth on the other side of the glade rustled, and out stepped an old woman. Clad in a long gray green robe, she moved silently across the lea to stand beside me. Her hair was hidden beneath a hood, but wisps of white fur peeked out from the edges to frame her face, which was so ridged with wrinkles it was difficult to imagine that she'd ever been young. Cracks on the road map of eternity.

She might have been born old. One of the Elemental spirits, Grandmother Coyote was bound to Earth but served all realms. She lived outside of time, immortal. Or as immortal as the planet allowed her to be. When the earth died, so too would she. No demon could kill her, no human could harm her, no one from Otherworld could charm her. Outside of reach, she was in touch with everything that wandered the planet, every event that took place on its surface.

She looked into my eyes, and I stood still, allowing her to probe my essence. Grandmother Coyote would speak or not as she willed, but my behavior would determine how much she might be willing to tell me.

"What is it you seek, daughter of Y'Elestrial, and of Earth?"

Y'Elestrial… my homeland in Otherworld. I knelt, genuflecting.

"Very pretty," she said, her voice a smidgeon above a cackle. "But you know as well as I do that actions can be deceiving. All the pretty manners in the world won't cover an empty soul. Stand and let me listen to your heart."

I rose from my knees and sat beside her on one of the windfalls while the clouds parted and the gibbous moon flared through the trees, its silver beams illuminating our faces.

"I'm with the OIA, and I'm looking for answers to a murder, and a recent shift in power. We need to know what's happening. Will you help me?"

Grandmother Coyote stared at me, her gaze splitting me wide as she viewed every atom within my body, every thought within my soul. I felt like I was naked, tied spread-eagle to a stone under the starry night, open for scrutiny, every flaw and strength exposed.

After a moment she motioned for me to follow her to the base of one of the nearby trees. The trunk was huge—wide enough to fit several men—and when she approached, a light shimmered as a doorway formed. She ducked her head, entering, and I followed.

Within the trunk we strode along a dirt path lit by dancing lights and shrouded on both sides by mist and shadow. Near the end, we came to a cave within which rested a small table and two chairs carved out of oak. The knots and burls blinked as I took the chair opposite her. I had the uneasy feeling I was sitting on somebody's face but pushed it aside. Now wasn't the time to question seating arrangements.

Grandmother Coyote sang a few notes, and a candle sprang to life. On the oaken table rested a crystal ball almost as big as my head. Grandmother Coyote leaned close and blew a long, slow breath on it, the mist from her lungs enveloping the orb like fog. A spark flared in the center of the crystal, radiating out. She opened a velvet pouch that hung on her belt and held it out to me.

"Let's see what the bones have to say," she said. "Choose three."

I cautiously reached within the darkened pouch, and my fingers met a smooth surface that felt like polished ivory. The bag was filled with finger bones from all different races and species. Swallowing a lump that rose in my throat, I let my fingers close around three of them before withdrawing my hand.

"Place the first on the table."

I opened my hand, and the first bone, a long, narrow digit etched with symbols that I couldn't read, fell onto the table. Grandmother Coyote gazed at it for a moment, then looked deep into the crystal ball.

"A great shadow arises. He intends to rule all three worlds. Born from the fire, his nature is greed." She jerked her head up, and even though I knew she was immune to fear, I imagined a quaver in her voice as she said, "A Soul Eater. He charms the birds from the trees, the fish from the water. He unites those who will not be united into a great force, and they are sending out scouts even as we speak… to look for…" She paused, then shook her head. "I'm not sure what he's looking for yet."

Shadow Wing. She had to be talking about Shadow Wing. Soul Eaters were the biggest of the big bads. They devoured the very essence of their enemies, casting the souls into oblivion as they absorbed their opponents' power. Among the highest order of demons, Soul Eaters were rare, and they usually managed to charm their way into positions of authority. Once there, they turned tyrant, and the resulting rule was always bloody. By the time their minions realized what was going on, it was too late.

"The second bone," Grandmother Coyote said. I dropped the second bone in front of her. It was a finger from a Brownie. Shuddering, I jerked my hand back as she picked up the digit and closed her eyes.

"Long ago, the Elemental Lords were given guardianship over the spirit seal, which was broken into nine parts, fashioned into pendants. The Lords grew lazy, and the seals were lost. Eventually mortals found them and took possession. These are what the scouts seek. When they find the seals, they will take them into the depths where they will be joined back as one, and the Soul Eater will rip open the portals that separate the worlds."

Spirit seals? I must have looked confused, because she paused. "You don't know what the spirit seals are?"

I shook my head. "No, I've never heard of them."

"No accounting for the school system, either in OW or here," she said, disgruntled. "But that doesn't surprise me. Whenever mortals of any kind are involved, they forget the past and repeat mistakes." Grandmother Coyote looked as if she was debating whether to tell me more. She held up a hand. "Wait here," she said, rising to disappear into the shadows that surrounded the table.

I slowly opened my hand and stared at the remaining bone. It was the finger of a human—a woman. That much I could read off of it, but more I couldn't see. I started to stand, intending to stretch, but the chair wrapped a branch around my waist, holding me fast.

"Hey! What are you doing?" I squirmed, trying to get free, but the limb anchored me firmly in place. Apparently, I wasn't allowed to wander around. At least it wasn't trying to feel me up. I relaxed, and the branch relaxed. I tried to stand again, and once again found myself slammed back into the seat. "Okay, okay, you win," I mumbled.

Just then, Grandmother Coyote reappeared. "Getting fresh with you, is it? No worry. I just don't want strangers wandering through my labyrinth."

She flashed me a smile then, the first I'd seen from her, and I cringed. Her teeth were razor sharp, shining steel in the night. Menolly's fangs looked like baby teeth in comparison to Grandmother Coyote's metal mouth. Either she didn't notice or she chose to ignore my response, because she held out a book. "You can have this. It will teach you the history of the spirit seals, at least enough for you to understand what you're up against."

I murmured a thank-you and took the book. The cover was hand-tooled leather—dragon leather. I ran my fingers over it, feeling the low rumble that still emanated from the skin. I hadn't heard of a dragon slaying in a long time. The book must be ancient. I carefully set it aside and tossed the third bone on the table. Grandmother Coyote fingered it for a moment, then shook her head.

"Out near Great Mother Rainier, you will find one of the seals. That is, you will if you get there before the Soul Eater's scouts."

"What does the seal look like?" I asked, thinking of Mount Rainier and just how vast the national park was.

Grandmother Coyote snorted. "A talisman of energy, a swirl of souls. Look for the pendant around the neck of a man known as Tom Lane." Her eyes began to spin, and I blinked against their kaleidoscopic brilliance.