Beth woke to the smell of coffee. Ronan clutched her as close as ever, but his features were peaceful. And when she slipped out from beneath his arms he barely stirred. She showered quickly and quietly in the attached bathroom. She found a robe hanging on a hook and tiptoed down the hall to Dougal’s kitchen, where the short man was just pulling a pan of muffins out of the oven.

“Morning, Mrs. Mac Nevin,” he said cheerily, gesturing to the kitchen table. “Have a seat.”

Beth sat gingerly. Her muscles ached in both bad and very good ways.

Dougal placed a cup of coffee before her and she took a large drink without hesitating, not minding the heat. She moaned. “Dougal, this is perfect. How did you know how I like it?”

“Lucky guess,” he said, a mysterious smile pulling at his lips. “How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead. I see the power’s back on. Was the storm bad?”

“Not too bad. Muffin?”

“Yes, please.” She took another long sip of her coffee, clutching it to her chest like someone was going to steal it away from her.

Beth always loved the morning after a night of really good sex, but this one was bittersweet. For one thing, it had been better than any sex she’d ever had before, but she’d let herself fall faster than she’d planned to. Not that falling in love and falling into bed were always synonymous, but this time they kind of were. Her heartstrings ached too, as if they had gotten just as much of a workout as the rest of her. What if he had only had sex with her out of obligation?

For another thing, the capture of Marcas Foley had been a bust, to say the least. But even now she felt her oath to the Queen tugging at her. The urge to go back and try to put the scary tentacle monster in a headlock was unfortunately very present. They would have to find a way to arrest him. There were no other options.

The muffin was still steaming when Beth took a bite, moaning again. “Dougal, you’ve outdone yourself,” she said around a mouthful of blueberry heaven.

He chuckled and sat across from her, nursing a mug of his own.

“Seriously. Have you considered starting a bakery? You could just put in an oven downstairs and pass out a muffin with every pint. Of course no one would get drunk, but --” She fell silent when a door closing down the hall alerted them to Ronan’s approach. Beth looked up eagerly, her stomach flipping.

Ronan looked magnificent. He’d managed to dress in last night’s clothes and his hair had been brushed and was loose, falling in soft silver waves around his broad shoulders. His dark blue eyes bore holes in Beth, the corners of his mouth perking up ever so slightly, like he was fighting a smile. He walked to the counter and poured himself coffee, moving with the arrogant ease of a man who had definitely gotten laid last night.

Beth felt her cheeks grow hot at the remembrance of it. It was a shame, however, that the night she and Ronan had made love for the first time was also the night they’d almost been skewered and barbecued by a giant octopus monster. The two memories would forever be intertwined in her mind.

Ronan sat beside her, sipping his disgustingly black coffee.

“Does she always do that?” Dougal asked him, amusement coloring his rosy cheeks.

“Do what?” Ronan’s morning gruffness sent a shiver of arousal down Beth’s spine.

“Stop talking when you enter the room.”

Beth felt Ronan’s eyes on her, but focused hard on the muffin she was now merely picking at.

“How am I to know?” he asked, sounding equally as amused. “I’m never in the room until I get there.”

He’d never sounded more Fae, speaking in riddle rhythm like the damned mad hatter.

“You should dress,” he said, changing the subject. “We’ve got to head back to your house.”

“My house? Why?”

“I’ve been thinking,” he began. She wondered when he’d had time to think between giving her two earth-shattering orgasms and sleeping like a coma patient. “The shokushu had the advantage because of the darkness, right?”

Beth nodded, fingers clenching on her cup. “And, y’know, the tentacles.”

“Well, yes, but back to my point. What if there were a way to keep light on him all the time? Even after he dispensed his ink.”

His words seeped into Beth and she understood. “Benji.”

He nodded.

“I’m not putting him in danger, Ronan.”

“He’s useful. He could be the light we need.”

“He’s just a --” servant. She was going to say servant, and she hated herself for it. Hated herself for drinking the classist Unseelie kool-aid.

Ronan arched an eyebrow. “He isn’t. Not anymore. You liberated him, Elizabeth. Let’s see what he can do. If he’s willing to help us.”

She didn’t doubt that he would be. She and Benji had always looked out for one another and she knew he felt powerless letting her go off with Ronan and fight battles without him. He would jump at this chance.

Beth sighed. “And how do we keep him safe?”

“Backup,” he said simply, taking a drink. “Sylviana expressed that she would like to help us and I’m sure Sebastian can be cajoled into it.”

There was a good chance Sebastian would come along if Sylvie did, Beth mused.

She blew out a long breath. “Alright, fine. We’ll ask. But he can say no. And if he does, we don’t force him. Or any of them.”

“Of course.” His eyes twinkled at her assertiveness. “Now go get dressed. Your clothes are dry.”

She nodded and chugged the rest of her coffee, leaving her half eaten muffin to go get ready.

Sylvie and Sebastian were already at the house when Beth and Ronan arrived. A fact which Ronan did not look particularly pleased about, despite it saving them a trip into Faerie.

“I told you to stay at the castle, Sylviana, where it is safe for you.”

“Forgive me if I don’t find being around a man who conned me into smuggling souls across the realm borders safe. Not to mention that he’s got my mother in on it. Sebastian promised to protect me.” The selkie sat at the kitchen table, flipping through an old issue of Glamour, the irony of which was not lost on Beth.

“Oh, did he?” Ronan turned angrily to his friend, who was cooking some sort of eggy dish in a skillet.

Sebastian shrugged, looking unconcerned at Ronan’s ire. Her perhaps was the only Fae in existence who could ever look so blase in the face of Ronan’s wrath.

Beth placed a hand on the Knight’s shoulder, ignoring the invisible sparks that always erupted when they touched. She’d thought that sensation would go away after they’d relieved some of their sexual tension, but really it had only amped up.

“I’m going to find Benji,” she said softly. “Talk to these guys, yeah?”

He nodded curtly, not turning his eyes to her as she stepped out of the kitchen and made her way upstairs.

Benji was just stepping out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He always looked so strange to her before his spikes went up, when his dark hair was shaggy and down around his ears. He looked like the boy who she’d played with as a child, who always found her during hide and seek.

His face brightened when he saw her and he held out his arms, hugging tightly when she barrelled into him.

“Beth, how did it go?”

She clung for a moment. “It was fucking awful. I owe you a hoodie. And I need your help.”

He pulled away, his orange eyes searching her face, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Anything.”

Beth almost winced, having known he would react like that. She could be leading him to certain death and he’d be eager to go, for her. And for all she knew, she was. The thought chilled her.

“The monster we fought --”

“Monster? I thought you were just going to arrest some guy.”

“We were, but he turned out to be a monster. A tentacle Fae called a shokushu.” She shivered at just the mention of it.

“Tentacle Fae,” Benji said slowly, sounding it out, as if he hadn’t heard the words before. “That sounds bad, Beth, really bad.”

“It was pretty terrifying,” she agreed, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “We ran. But we have to go back. We still need to capture him somehow.”

“Any ideas on that?” He lead her to his room and began getting dressed while she sat down on the edge of his bed.

“He fights with darkness. He sucked it out of the room somehow and then his tentacles came out. And he’s got these guys - Ronan called them thralls - that shoot supersized needles out of tattoo guns. We were thinking that maybe if you came and lit up the place, we could fight him better.”

Benji froze, about to pull a t-shirt over his head. “You think that’d work?”

“I think it’s our best shot,” she said, hating the words as they left her tongue.

He pulled the shirt on and looked thoughtful, running fingers through his black curls. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, if it’ll help you out, okay. I mean, I already said I’d do anything for you.”

“I know you did.” Beth stood, pulling him in for another needy hug. “Ronan’s going to ask Sylvie and Sebastian if they’d like to help us as well, so you’ll have a lot of protection, if that helps.”

“... you got laid.”

“What?” She pulled away. “How can you tell? I showered!”

“I can always tell. You’re less tense, despite all the shit on your plate.” He grinned. “How was it?”

“It was good,” she blushed. “Really good.”

Usually Beth wasn’t shy about sharing every detail with Benji, but this time, for whatever reason, she was.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t push it, satisfied with what little she gave him. Maybe it was because he wasn’t the president of Ronan’s fan club to begin with.

Beth watched as he stood before the mirror and spiked his hair, carefully creating the Benji he liked to be seen as. Then they descended the stairs together and joined everyone else in the kitchen.

Everyone except the twins. “Where are Sian and Liam?” Beth asked.

“They popped their heads in and said they were going to the beach,” Sebastian answered.

“So in other words they saw that Ronan was here and skedaddled,” Benji answered, sounding amused.

“Why would they do that?” Beth asked, confused.

“Because he was asking them questions last time about their origins,” Sebastian said. “Apparently they’ve got secrets.”

Beth felt bad for the twins. “Everybody has secrets.”

It looked as though her marriage was alienating her friends, like it had with Trina. But one look across the room and she couldn’t imagine anything dissuading her from spending time with him.

Ronan leaned against the counter beside Sebastian, arms crossed, scowl in place. Mouth-watering as ever. He looked up and caught her eye.

“Did you fill him in?” He nodded toward Benji.

“Yep.”

“And is he willing to help us out?”

“Of course I am,” Benji answered, obviously done with being talked about like he wasn’t in the room. “I’d do anything for Beth.”

Ronan’s eyebrows rose. “Good.”

“And did you fill these guys in?” She gestured at Sebastian and the Unseelie Princess.

He nodded.

“And?”

“We’re in,” Sylvie replied. “This guy sounds like a douchebag who needs to be taken down.”

Beth could have kissed her. “Thank you.”

The selkie looked a little uncomfortable about being thanked and nodded awkwardly.

“When do we leave?” Sebastian asked, transferring his egg creation onto a plate. He set it before sylvie with a charming smile.

“This afternoon,” said Ronan, “assuming everyone is well rested?”

The group members nodded in turn and Beth found herself at her kitchen table beside Benji while Sebastian cooked more food and passed it out.

Ronan fixed Benji with a hard stare and sat down across from him, leaning forward intently. “How good are you at sustaining a flame?”

“Decent,” answered Benji, seeming only slightly shaken by having the full attention of the Knight upon him.

Ronan cocked an eyebrow. “And what about a large fire?”

“If he can set something in the shop ablaze then he doesn’t have to sustain it,” Sebastian pointed out, sitting down. “Was there anything flammable that might burn for a while?”

Beth thought back. The counter was glass and metal, so that probably wouldn’t do. “There were pictures along the wall, art sketches for the tattoos. Oh! There was a couch. A waiting area, maybe.”

Ronan confirmed with a nod. “Aim for the couch. If you can get it burning it’ll do some of your work for you.”

Benji nodded. If he was terrified he wasn’t showing it. Beth admired that. She felt as though she might break apart from the fear. She would give almost anything not to have to go back to that tattoo parlor. Underneath the table she reached for Benji’s hand, squeezing in an effort to convey her gratitude and also her unease. Benji gave her a sideways glance and a small smile, encouraging and perfect, like always.

Beth released him and dug into an omelette that she was too preoccupied to taste.

The afternoon rolled around far too quickly.

Everyone dressed in stretchy but tight clothing, good for mobility and bad for being set on fire accidentally. Sebastian passed out knives to everyone from a trunk in his bedroom that until now had always been padlocked.

And then they were off, the five of them managing to fit on two motorcycles. Beth was wedged between Ronan and Benji, but she didn’t mind. Unsurprisingly it was the safest she had ever felt. The feeling didn’t last long.

Irezumi looked different in the daylight. Sunlight streamed through the trees and dappled the sidewalk in front of the shop, giving everything a surreal feeling of charm and urban enchantment. A warm breeze even stirred the heaps of gutter trash. Beth failed to suppress a shudder.

Ronan entered the shop without so much a sa whisper of pep talk. A man of action. Beth supposed she admired that about him, though she could have used a few words to shore up her mental defenses.

Marcas Foley stood behind the counter exactly as he had the night before. In fact, everything was as it had been the night before. The sun outside did not affect how shocking the bright fluorescents were, or how assaulting the smell of disinfectant was. Beth felt almost as if she’d just stepped out of a time machine.

Except the shokushu wore a lavender flannel button down today and had four pens in his pocket instead of three. His light eyes took in the group before him but his mouth didn’t so much as twitch. He tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Time to go, Foley,” Ronan said, finality in his tone.

“I don’t think so, Knight,” he said, sounding more thoughtful than anything else.

The fight was different than Beth expected it to be. It began the same as the night before - Marcas Foley pulling one of the pens from his pocket and clicking it. Light-replacing ink being released. Darkness encompassing the entirety of the tattoo shop. But that was where the similarities ended. There was no storm outside this time, and therefore no lights by which to see, even if only in flashes. Until Benji went up like the effigy at burning man and illuminated the whole damn room.

For a moment it was thrilling, and then Beth realized that it gave them all a clear view of the creature that Marcas Foley became when the light was stolen, and it wasn’t a sight she ever wanted to see again.

Beth’s breath caught in her throat. With tentacles emerging from his sides, Foley was just enough on the less-than side of humanoid to be truly revolting. His whole body was mottled purple-grey and his eyes were large holes in his head, pupil-less and dark. Those eyes turned toward Benji and a mouth gaped open and shrieked, like the night before, bringing forth the thralls from the back.

Beth wondered if they were always in the servitude of Foley or if he called upon them when he needed them, and the rest of the time they were just normal dudes with occasional blackouts. It was hard to tell just by looking at them now.

Benji started to flicker, his fire failing him. He moved toward the black leather couch and set it aflame just like they’d talked about. The light provided was not as much as Benji had been but it was sufficient. Beth even liked it a little better because Foley’s features weren’t as pronounced.

Sebastian pulled out a sword almost as long as Ronan’s and dropped into a fighting stance. Beth had sparred with him before, but she’d never seen him look so lethal. Maybe because he’d always had wooden swords before, or maybe because the look in his eyes this time promised pain rather than humiliation.

Benji held the flame up steadily, providing an even playing field for everyone. Sylviana had pulled forth her guns and Beth remembered to grab for the knife she’d eventually stopped giving back to Ronan. She moved in front of Benji, as protective as she could be when she was shaking like a lopsided washing machine.

The buzzing of the tattoo guns began.

“Those needles fly out,” she warned, hoarse, hoping everyone heard her.

Sebastian and Ronan advanced on the shokushu, and then everything happened really fast. Sylvie took down two of the thralls at once with bullets to the kneecaps. Beth was glad for the non lethal hits, for she suspected that her latter assumption had been correct and these were just unassuming tattoo artists. It would be a shame for them to have to die for someone like Foley.

A third moved toward Beth and she brought her knife up, slicing a wrist before it could bring the wretched tattoo gun too close to her. The thrall cried out and gripped his arm, twisting away from her and dropping the gun in the process. Another gunshot signalled the debilitation of the last thrall but this time it was accompanied by a spirited “Son of a BITCH!”

Beth wheeled around to find Sylvie pulling one of the long, thick needles from her stomach. This distracted SEbastian enough that Foley managed to deliver a blow to his face, leaving a sizzling suction cup shaped mark along his chiseled cheek. Of course, this only served to piss off the pretty boy winemaker. Foley stood no chance against two of the most talented swordsmen in the Unseelie Kingdom, especially when they were angry.

“Don’t kill him!” Beth reminded them. She hurried to Sylvie and tried to help, but the selkie waved her away.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse, just hurts,” she said, dropping the needle to the floor with a clang that mingled with the sound of swinging swords. “Looks like he’s down.” She pointed with her chin to the scene going on behind Beth.

When Beth turned around the shokushu was on the ground with all of his tentacles severed and Ronan’s sword pressing into his throat. Somehow the stumps weren’t bleeding, though they wiggled futilely at Sebastian as he found Foley’s human hands and secured them with handcuffs.

Beth hoped like hell the handcuffs were enchanted somehow. Or at least iron. She didn’t think normal handcuffs could withstand the Fae before them. The fluorescent lights flickered back into existence.

The thralls suddenly lost consciousness and dropped to the ground, apparently no longer taking up any of Marcas Foley’s focus. He was silent but his light eyes were fixed upon Beth’s husband, full of enmity and the promise of retribution.

Beth shuddered.

Benji pulled the flames from the couch, leaving it a smouldering pile of leather and wood. Good. It would be senseless for the poor humans to die here.

The group emerged onto the street. The sun was fighting it’s descent, lighting the whole sky up with an orange plea to stay.

“Thank you for your help,” said Ronan, turning to their friends. Elizabeth and I can take it from here.”