"I haven't exactly worked out the logistics--"
I groaned and turned to Gabriel. "Can we go now?"
"The Cwn Annwn," Tristan said. "They're the most likely suspects. They want to get rid of Gwynn so Arawn controls the playing field."
"We need to go," I said, reaching for Gabriel's arm. He lifted it out of my reach without even looking over.
"Gwynn?" Gabriel said. "Arawn?"
"You do know who they are, I presume?" Tristan said.
"Of course," I broke in. "Matilda, Gwynn, Arawn. The myth or history or whatever it is. Gabriel, can we--?"
"In a moment. This could be important." He turned to Tristan. "Explain what you mean--"
"Gabriel, please." I gripped his elbow.
He seemed to catch the growing desperation in my voice. He nodded. "All right." Then, to Tristan, "We'll speak--"
"Investigate the Cwn Annwn. I haven't been able to prove they're behind Morgan's murder, but it's the solution that makes sense. If you're arrested, that removes Gwynn from the equation, and leaves the biker boy, Arawn."
"Gabriel," I said loudly, trying to distract him from Tristan's last sentence, but it did no good. Gabriel stared at him so intently he could have read his lips.
"Biker boy?" he said.
"Richard Gallagher."
"You're saying Ricky is Arawn? And I'm . . ."
"Gwynn, of course. Gwynn ap Nudd. King of the Tylwyth Teg."
Gabriel pivoted on his heel, so slowly I swear it took ten seconds before he was facing me, and still it wasn't enough time to plaster on a look of confusion.
"Olivia," he said. "You knew . . . ?"
"We aren't them," I blurted. "Not reincarnations. It's a role. You have Tylwyth Teg blood and Ricky has Cwn Annwn, and I have both, and we know one another, so we've been thrust into these roles--"
"Not exactly," Tristan said. "True, it isn't reincarnation,
but it's not happenstance. There couldn't be another Gwynn to your Matilda. It's all preordained. He is the Gwynn--"
"Enough." Gabriel's voice was so low we both turned, as if uncertain we'd heard it. "That's enough," he said, articulating each syllable. "We are going to leave now. If you wish to speak to us, you know where we are."
Tristan thrust business cards at both of us. "Or you can call me. Anytime. I really do think we can solve--"
Gabriel had already walked away, leaving the card in Tristan's outstretched hand. Tristan tucked mine into my pocket.
"It's not the Cwn Annwn," I said to Tristan. "Unless James has murdered someone with fae blood, they can't kill him."
"That's the general idea, but I'm not convinced it's a rule."
"It is," I said.
"That makes it more complicated," he said, sighing. "Why don't we--?"
Now I was the one walking away--jogging, actually--to catch up with Gabriel.
"I can help you," Tristan called after us.