Page 70 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

Niamh held up her patchwork quilted bag in goodbye. “Don’t have too much fun without me. And come to Brooklyn if you need a place to stay.”

Her eyes flitted to Graves and back to the girls. She’d been adamant that they shouldn’t live with Graves again. But Kierse wasn’t going to live with the Druids and Gen wanted to stay with Kierse and maybe, just a little bit,wanted to see the inside of Graves’s brownstone when not under threat of death. Of course, Gen could be playing protector…as she always had.

“We’ll be fine,” Kierse said.

“We’ll miss you not being right next door,” Gen said. “Even if you lied to us.”

Niamh laughed. “Yeah. Sorry about that, babe.”

Gen’s cheeks reddened.

“You don’t have to stay there, either,” Kierse reminded her. She didn’t know the deal with Niamh and Lorcan, but shedidknow Lorcan and his duplicity. He was every bit as frustrating and just as deadly as Graves.

She waved her hand. “I’ve got it covered. It’s you I worry about.”

“They’ll be taken care of,” Graves said sternly.

“I bet they will,” Niamh teased.

Then she was off and away, and Graves was shuffling them into the back of the limo where another man was already seated within.

George pulled away from the airport, and Graves gestured to the man. “Kierse, Genesis, allow me to introduce you to an associate of mine, Lazarus Kates.”

Laz was everything and nothing like Kierse had imagined him. Graves had briefed her on the long plane ride over that they would be meeting his elusive treasure hunter who had been away for Passover. Somehow she’d envisioned a man in ragtag khaki with a wide-brimmed fedora and a perpetual five o’clock shadow. While he had an actual beard and the khaki wasn’t far off, there was no hat in sight. Just deep, dark-brown eyes, a swath of curly brown hair trimmed short on the sides, and tan hands and forearms marked withtiny scars, like he’d seen his way around a few knife fights.

“It’s a pleasure.” His eyes found Gen, and he nodded once before turning to Kierse. “You must be the wren.”

“That’s me.”

“Yeah, Boss told me about you,” he said gruffly. He pulled out a folder from a dark brown leather messenger bag and offered it to Graves. “Good to have you back on board.”

“Thanks,” she said hesitantly, her eyes flicking to Graves in question. He’dtoldsomeone about her? That didn’t sound like him at all. Graves quirked an eyebrow that said,See? Things have changed.

But then his head was buried in the folder Laz had given him and the moment passed. “Is this right?” Graves finally asked.

“Afraid so.”

“A Midnight Frolic?”

“Yep,” Laz said.

“I saw that they were having it in the Aerial Gardens,” he snarled. “I didn’t realize it’d be a frolic.”

Kierse and Gen looked between the two men. Kierse asked, “What’s a midnight frolic?”

She held her breath. How many times had she asked questions like this of him last time and received veiled, half hearted answers? She never expected Graves to trust her with information. Never.

But he began as if oblivious to her whirling thoughts. “One of the theaters on Broadway has a rooftop theater that was closed during the war.”

“They destroyed it, you mean,” Laz said with distaste. “Fucking vamp-werewolf showdown that nearly toppled theentire theater.”

Graves shrugged. “Before it was destroyed, they held a Midnight Frolic. It was an elite gathering in the aerial gardens with productions that showcased rising talent. If the show did well with the top clientele, they’d move the actors onto Broadway. Sort of a make-or-break moment.”

“Okay,” Kierse said, trying to figure out how this tied into anything. “And this is why they’re putting onMidsummer?”

“Yes, the first frolic is going to be the night of the auction,” Laz said.

“Is this a problem? Didn’t we already know it was going to be a show?”

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