Because they were both victims, no matter what Victor told her—or the papers Robin had found said. Deep in her bones, she’d always suspected as much. But thinking he was a monster had always been easier. Comforting, too, in its own way. The men of Frankenstein were evil, even if one of them had been forced into rage by Victor.
Just like her.
She’d be lying if she said this moment didn’t scare her to her core. She wanted to see with her own eyes what to believe.
Benta smiled. “We elves call him Frank.”
Chapter 30
The hospital, like every other hospital on Earth, wouldn’t let the kids in to see their new baby sister. They ran all the normal precautions, too—scanned Ed’s temperature on the way in, stuck a rapid-test swab in his nose, scanned him again when he woke up this morning, as directed by the Minnesota Department of Health.
The elves could only do so much when it came to outbreaks.
Grace Maria Martinez made her entrance into the world just as the first rays of morning sunshine crested the horizon—a healthy and hardy babe, one fully blessed by the magicals who considered her their own. The nurses cleaned up mother and child, checked temperatures again, and tucked Ed into the pullout couch in the corner of the room.
He slept for a solid five hours no matter the hospital noise, or the nurses exiting and entering, or little Grace’s bassinette moving in and out of the room.
He woke to a darkened room, shades drawn and door closed.
Isabella quietly nursed Grace. “Good afternoon,” she said.
Ed stretched his back. Sleeping on a hospital pullout was pretty much like sleeping in the back of a car, complete with leg cramps and lots of beeping.
He stood to stretch his shoulders.
Dagrun Tyrsdottir sat in the chair on the other side of the bed. He hadn’t sensed her there, or seen her, or heard her come in. She was mostly out of glamour with her tall elven ears visible and her huge magic ponytail hanging over her shoulder. She was in sweats, though, and wore a pair of grippy hospital socks.
Her arm was still in a cast. Not the same one as the last time he’d seen her, but a larger, longer cast covering her elbow.
She sat ramrod straight, too, like she had a wrap around her ribs.
“Mayor,” he said, though when they were out of glamour, etiquette dictated he should refer to her as Queen.
She grinned and nodded toward Isabella and Grace. “She’s perfect.”
“She is,” Isabella said.
“What is your opinion of this Wrenn Goodfellow?” Dagrun asked.
Right to business, that was the Elf Queen of Alfheim.
Ed kissed Isabella’s temple. “She latching on okay?” he quietly asked.
Isabella nodded. “Eating like a trooper.”
Ed turned his gaze to the elf in the room. “I don’t want any more kelpies showing up in Alfheim,” he said.
Dagrun gave a small agreeing nod. “None of us do.”
“Good,” Ed said.
“Any fae of any kind,” Dagrun said.
Ed responded with a chuckle. “Your husband made a deal with Queen Titania to get the kids and me out of Texas faster than you all showing up in a plane.”
Isabella’s eyes widened. “No deals with the fae,” she said.
Ed knew exactly what his wife was thinking—he and the kids might be incidental in any deal, but incidental still meant connected. And connected to magicals is what had gotten them here in the first place.
“True,” Dagrun said. “Titania isn’t the fae we need to be worried about.”
Ed pinched his forehead. “Is Remy okay?” He’d forgotten to ask about Gerard and Remy when Arne dropped him off.
“Being in wolfman form gives a fair amount of protection,” Dagrun said.
“Yes,” Ed said. “I know. But that explosion was magical, caused by a kelpie, and originating from a psychologically messed-up elven sword.” Only in Alfheim would Ed use the words psychologically messed-up to describe what should have been an inanimate object. “I mean…” He pointed at her broken arm.
Dagrun looked down at the cast. “Remy’s healing faster than I am and should be back to his normal self in a few days.”
So he’d been correct about the magical severity of the explosion.
“We’ll need any information you have on this fae-generated system Wrenn Goodfellow referred to as the Heartway,” Dagrun said.
Isabella switched Grace over to her other breast. “That kelpie took my children into whatever this Heartway is.”
Dagrun nodded. “It uses ley lines. We had no idea Oberon had upgraded it to the point where it had become the equivalent of a subway system.”
“They had no idea Frank lived here,” Ed said.
Dagrun shook her head. “This Wrenn person had no idea. I can guarantee you Oberon knew. And that evil…” She looked up at the ceiling. “If the fae were to have an aspect of Loki, his name would be Robin Goodfellow.”
“And that’s why you’re concerned?” Ed asked. They had so many things to be concerned about right now.
“Among other things, yes,” she said.
Isabella settled Grace in. “We are considering leaving Alfheim,” she said. “For the safety of our children.”
Dagrun inhaled slowly as if it hurt, then exhaled just as slowly. “We figured as much.”
Isabella looked directly at Dagrun. “Tell us why we should stay.”
Dagrun leaned back in the chair. “Because Ragnarok is upon us, my friend. And we need your help.”
Isabella looked up at Ed with a look he’d seen again and again, not just in his wife’s eyes, but in his own. And his parents’. And her parents’, too, before they were killed. He knew the look of exhausted resignation that came with moral clarity. The look of someone who would fight to protect everyone’s kids, not just their own.
He nodded. “We need to talk about Sophia,” he said.
“Yes, we do,” Dagrun responded.
“And Wrenn.”
“Yes.”
Ed kissed Isabella’s temple again and walked around the bed. “I can’t do my job if I’m not clued in,” he said.
“That stops today.” Dagrun pointed at a smaller chair in the corner. “Sit
