Page 125 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

“I’ll fill you in later,” he promised. “Schwartz got a tracker on both boxes. I’m sending the connection to George. I’ll meet you there with Edgar.”

“Got it, Boss,” Laz said.

Of course Graves had a Plan D when A, B, and C went to shit.

George pulled away, heading south. Kierse kept glancing at the decoy box, wondering at the magical signature and whether she’d be able to break through the security. At first glance, it was deceptively easy, but she knew what sort of traps were locked into it. A dangerous smile came to her as she thought about learning its secrets.

George continued south until 9th Avenue turned into Hudson through the West Village, then veered left onto Bleecker Street. The darkness brightened as they entered the Village and its nightlife ignited through the charming streets and artists’ center. Late-night restaurants were packed. Music filtered out from the bars. A comedy club off of MacDougal had a line wrapped around the block.

Kierse gaped. “Wow.”

“Looks like the tracker stopped,” George said.

“Fuck,” Graves growled on the line.

“What?” Kierse asked.

George pulled over, and Kierse glanced out the window. Her heart dropped. Graves was right. “Fuck” was absolutely the correct word.

Kierse stepped onto the cement behind the comedy club and looked up at the New York City entrance to Nying Market.

“I’m ten minutes out,” Graves said.

“We don’t have ten minutes,” Kierse said with Laz at her back.

“Fuck,” he snarled again.

George was suddenly at her side, offering her a coin andthe phone tracking the cauldron. “Is there anything else you require?”

“Thank you, George. I think I have it from here.”

Then she stepped into the goblin market, alone.

Interlude

George watched her disappear into Nying Market without a backward glance. Brave girl.

Boss was going to be furious.

He answered the phone on the first ring. “She’s already inside.”

“Do you have a second coin?” Graves asked gruffly.

“Just the one, sir.”

Graves was silent a moment as if he was trying not to rip his hair out. George had known him a long time. He had never seen him quite like this until Kierse McKenna had entered his life.

It was a change for the better, in his opinion.

Not that anyone asked the opinion of the driver. They never had when he had been shuttling billionaires around for his father’s business. He’d been just seventeen in San Francisco, and the only thing he’d wanted to do was escape. Take his surfboard and travel the world chasing the next big, daredevil maneuver. He’d tried skydiving, cliff jumping, and cave diving. His buddy had sold him a beat-up motorcycle that he’d fixed up with the scraps from his day job, and had been working on his pilot’s license. Anything to piss off his parents, who wanted him to focus on school so he could graduate and take over for his father.

It had taken someone far more powerful than them tocurb his enthusiasm.

After crashing his motorcycle in a street race, George had been forced to spend his spring break driving for his dad’s business instead of on a surf trip with his buddies. He’d gotten Graves for the entire week.

The man was mercurial at best. George was intrigued despite himself by the strangely scary man who tipped generously and was always reading in the back of his limo.

Graves had gotten into the car on his last day in town. “How fast can you drive this thing?”

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