Chapter 1

A trail of smoke still sailed into the sky like the colorful tail of a kite. It could be traced back down to the decimated remains of the Green Mill Recycling Center.

Mina sat on the hill across the river and stared down at the dark, burned wreckage that had been the Godmothers’ Guild. Only a single fire rescue worker remained, and he walked among the rubble, scattering ashes with a large rod to keep flare ups from sprouting. Yellow caution tape roped off the whole area.

“Come on,” she mumbled under her breath.

She tapped her closed fist against her bent knees. She’d been sitting, watching, and guarding the building—waiting to see if any of the rescue team would discover what really lay only a few stories below them. She could only hope that the Fae had covered their tracks well.

The news had called the fire a rare accident, saying the explosion was caused by a ruptured gas line, but the Fae knew otherwise. And Mina knew otherwise, but she suspected there was some Fae persuasion being used to cover up what really happened.

The cause of this tragedy was the dark prince himself. He’d sent his army to attack the Godmother’s Guild like he had done over twenty years ago. Last time, the Guild had been able to fight off the attack, even trapping one of the trolls in stone. But the prince, the Story, wasn’t as strong then.

Now, Teague was nearly invincible. Joined with the other half of his soul, Jared, he had fully come into his power, and he wanted vengeance—against the Guild, against the humans, against her.

She let out a long sigh and dug her fingernails into her palms as she stared past the rubble along the river to an area that the Godmothers had warded and protected from the rescue team. Even she wouldn’t have known what to look for if she hadn’t been there when it happened.

The river rock was slightly darker along the embankment, where Fae flame had devoured the bodies of the dead. Of those who had died in the battle and from the fire. One of them had been Mei Wong, her faithful brownie Godmother.

“Why?” Mina whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. “Why you? You were nothing but gentle and kind. You didn’t deserve this. He did. It’s his fault.”

Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to blink. She let the pain well up inside of her. Because although she tried to place the blame on Teague, Mina knew deep down, he wasn’t the one who started it. She was.

She was the one who had gone back into the past and set all of this in motion. It was her. It had always been her. She was the one who created the Grimoire. She was the one who had given it to the Grimm brothers. She was the one who betrayed Teague by saving Ferah, who, in turn, stabbed the prince with an evil dagger, the tip of which remained inside him and poisoned his heart. Of course he blamed her. When she tried to dig out the tip, he saw her only as another assassin and blasted her through the tower window.

Trying to save herself, she had inadvertently opened up a gate between her world and his, and he’d been chasing her ever since. He had to wait over a century for the timelines to catch up.

But now they were on the same playing field. There were no more secrets. She knew who he was, and he knew she knew. She created the beast, and now she’d have to destroy him. She knew that now.

Jared was Teague, at least a part of him. When she’d met Teague back in time, she saw bits of Jared in him—the smile, the smirk, the cocky grin. Even the way he looked at her when he didn’t think anyone was watching. It had been Jared’s look, his jokes, his smile.

But that was then, before he was poisoned. Now? Now she didn’t know what to make of him, of the prince, of the Story.

Who he had been and who he was now would no longer matter. Innocents were at stake. Too many had paid the price for Mina’s folly. Too many had been injured; too many had died. She could only see this concluding one way. It would end with death—hers or Teague’s.

He had said she might be more agreeable in the morning. Well, it was morning. Where the heck was he? Brody and Nan had forced her to go home last night to get some sleep. But that was a joke. She couldn’t.

She’d taken off the lavender dress and thrown it onto the bed, feeling the weight of the dagger hidden inside the pocket. She’d changed into jeans and boots, and layered a plaid top over a shirt. Grabbing mittens, hat, and scarf, she snuck back outside at first light and rode her bike all the way to the Recycling Center.

Seven hours later, her rear was numb, and her legs were stiff from sitting, Most of the damage had been contained and fires put out. She had watched and counted as each of the City Gas vehicles, the police cars, and the fire trucks had pulled away one by one.

Her stomach growled from hunger. She knew this was where he’d want to meet her. So he could gloat over his handiwork, his accomplishments. He wanted to see her cower, but she knew she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

Her skin prickled with the familiar sensation that she felt whenever he was near. Mina jumped up and turned around just as he stepped out from behind a large evergreen.

His dark, angry, blue eyes crinkled up in the corners with mirth, mirroring the smirk on his face. His perfectly styled dark hair accentuated his cheekbones. He wore a long patchwork jacket, made of different leathers and black textures, like a cape off of his shoulders. Both the cape and his tall, black boots gave him an animalistic ruler vibe. The only light thing about him was his stark white shirt.

“I think I prefer these clothes to your fancy dresses,” he said, his voice like velvet as he stepped closer to her.

“I think I prefer your other clothes. Are you auditioning for an episode of What Not to Wear?”

Teague frowned and shook his head. “Again with the insults that mean nothing to me.”

“How about this? You look like an animal.”

His handsome head fell back, and his eyes closed in laughter. “Now that is funny.”

He came up and reached out to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

His nostrils flared in anger, but he held back his biting remark. Instead, he turned away from her and placed one boot on a rock, gazing down over the smoking building in the valley. Here come the insults.

“Do you have it?” His voice had lost its teasing tone. He was asking for the dagger.

“Yes.”

“Then give it to me, Mina.” He cast a forlorn look over his shoulder at her.

“I didn’t bring it.”

She could see his jaw working as he clenched it. He straightened, cracking his neck as he faced her full on. “Did you not get my warning?” He pointed down below at the very spot of the burned river rock. “I’m done playing games.”

“Well, the game now has new rules. It’s an expanded edition.”

He raised one eyebrow. “You think to outplay me?”

“Did you bring my mirror?” she shot back. “I may exchange one for the other.” She wanted the mirror. With that mirror, he could always watch her. Always.

This time it was Teague who looked surprised. “May exchange?”

“How about: You bring me the dagger, and I’ll let your friends live.”

“Without my mirror, I won’t even think about giving you the dagger.”

He sighed and sat on the large rock, extending his legs in front of him. He crossed them at the ankles. “I think I’ll hold onto my mirror a little longer. I’ve learned that women can’t be trusted, and I like the idea that you know I’m watching you. It makes it harder for you to plot against me when I can watch your…” He stood up and slowly walked around her. “… every… single… move.” He leaned in on the last word and inhaled the scent of her hair.