When she looked up, he was pointing at the roof of the cruiser.
“No…” She sat up straight. “Not usually.”
He turned out onto a two-lane road. “Okay,” he said. He glanced at her. “We’re going to communicate here. Law enforcement to law enforcement. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Ranger was with you prior to falling out of the sky into the park?”
“Yes,” she said.
“So he wasn’t the kelpie the elves were chasing earlier.” He hit the siren and the accelerator. “You two are a brand-new fae problem.”
So the elves were in the middle of another “fae problem,” which Wrenn guessed probably had something to do with the Queen.
And the Queen was the reason Ranger had gotten into the castle in the first place.
“All of which is tangential to our kelpie-vampire problem,” she said.
“Nothing any magical ever does is tangential,” he said. “Nothing.” He turned onto another, wider road. “More likely we’re dealing with multiple overlapping world-ending scenarios here.”
He was correct, of course. Most magicals were the volatile centers of their own universes, and when those universes collided, worlds often did end.
“True,” she answered.
“So we deal with them one at a time.” The look he threw her said I dare you to argue.
“There is an imminent threat to your family,” Wrenn said.
He nodded, clearly satisfied with her answer. “I killed a vampire back in Texas.” He pointed at his neck. “Got a scar to prove it. I thought I was dealing with a mundane serial killer. The Alfheim Pack thought they were dealing with a crazy werewolf, which is why when they showed up, they had two elves in tow.” They hit a bumpy patch of ice, and he slowed the cruiser. “I didn’t learn the vamp was affiliated with the Gulf Coast clans until after.”
Ranger had made it sound as if the Gulf Coast clans didn’t know where Martinez and his family lived.
Then again, she’d had no idea that Victor’s first creation lived here, either. “The elves are good at keeping their business private, aren’t they?” she asked.
He glanced at her again. “Seems so.”
“Yet they kept two vampires in town until recently,” she said.
He threw her a surprised look.
“The Royal Guard got a copy of the video of the little elf girl.”
The surprise turned to fear. Then it vanished. His detective face reemerged.
“Law enforcement to law enforcement,” she said.
He nodded. “I’m not privy to most of the magicks around here. The elves, as you say, are private.”
She nodded. “Most of the workings of Oberon’s Castle are above my pay grade.”
Martinez grinned. Wrenn grinned back.
“How do I kill a kelpie?” he asked.
Wrenn chuckled. “You point at the kelpie and ask nicely for the nearest magical to take care of the problem.”
“Heh,” he said.
“I’m a witch,” she said. “I can protect myself, but that’s about it. I’m nowhere near powerful enough to bring Ranger to heel.” She inhaled. “He’s stronger than most kelpies, so be aware.”
He nodded. “Witch, huh?”
“Don’t know what my ancestry is, though I likely carry elven blood. I was born in Scotland.”
Buildings appeared up ahead along with signs warning of a decreased speed limit.
“Welcome to Alfheim, Minnesota,” Martinez said as they passed a big wooden sign carved with the same words.
He looked her up and down as he turned down a city street. “When we have this under control, I’m going ask you a few questions about Scotland,” he said.
She nodded.
“Now we focus.”
She nodded again.
He turned another corner.
And all hell broke loose.
Chapter 17
The Martinez home…
Gabriel was the only Martinez child not born in elf territory. He’d been a toddler when they’d moved, a baby really, and he had no memory of Texas. He carried no real concept of dry desert air, or sunsets in colors other than pink and gold. And even though he’d visited many parts of the state of Minnesota, he’d only once been farther south than Des Moines, Iowa.
He remembered the arguments. Could they take the kids to Disney World? No. We can’t. We don’t dare. How about Disneyland? Do you know how many favors I’ll need to call in to make that work?
His dad must have called in the favors, because last year, before Mom found out she was going to have another little sister, his entire family—plus Jax and his parents, another Pack family, and three elves—all flew to California on one of Mr. Freyrsson’s charter jets.
Gabe was pretty sure he wasn’t the only kid walking around the park that day being tailed by a magical bodyguard. His, though, had been a huge fun-loving guy with sideburns, a ponytail, and an enviable number of Scandinavian death metal t-shirts. A big guy who literally could channel the power of Thor down onto anyone who dared even look at the Martinez family sideways.
Gabe had turned eleven during the trip. At the time, he’d been half annoyed that he was the oldest kid there and didn’t have friends along. But he did have Bjorn Thorsson at his side most of the time as consolation, and that alone had meant an elven level of wholesome partying.
As far as Gabe knew, Bjorn hadn’t zapped any bad guys while they played at Disneyland. But then again, the elves—and his parents—weren’t likely to tell him if there’d been problems.
That had changed last month.
There’d been an issue with the two vampires who’d lived at the now-closed Ramsey Mansion library. Turned out they weren’t the Russian Cold War spies they’d pretended to be.
Everyone knew they weren’t Russian Cold War spies. The werewolves, the elves, and the mundanes in town who, like Gabe, knew about magic. Mr. Victorsson, too.
Gabe had Mr. Victorsson’s number on his cell phone, because Mr. Victorsson wasn’t really a mundane, and Mr. Victorsson could knock the head clear off a vampire if he needed to.
Bjorn had called immediately after Dad hung up and given Gabe instructions. Elves were on the way, as were Alfheim’s two male alpha werewolves. No one knew where Mr. Victorsson was, but they’d left messages. Gabe was to keep his mother and sisters away from the kelpie until
