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Giancarlo lowered his head. “I am sorry for your loss. Truly.”
“What does your sorrow matter to me?” Nita tossed her head. “I’ve
come for the woman.”
“I made the hotdogs.” Giancarlo, the foolish, foolish man, stepped
between Nita and Eva. “She had nothing to do with them. I take full
responsibility for that.”
“Wait— He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“He accepts responsibility. That is sufficient.” The Fae reached a slender
hand for Giancarlo.
“Stop!” Eva strode forward, hands raised. “Our hearts go out to you,
but we are no more responsible than a blacksmith is for the wounds his
sword causes.”
“But the blacksmith is responsible. If he wanted nothing to do with
death, then he should make plowshares.” Nita closed her hand on
Giancarlo’s shoulder and they vanished.
“No!” Eva ran forward, as if there were a way to follow them into
Faerie. She cursed, spinning on the spot where they’d been standing.
Giancarlo was only a historian. There was no telling what sort of
mistakes he’d make in Faerie. She cursed again. He was in Faerie.
Facing the camera he’d placed in the tree to record the encounter, Eva
pulled out her phone and texted Sandra. “Giancarlo taken by Fae. Going
after him. We’re at our usual spot. Camera is in the pine tree.” At least
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