Murph and I went out for coffee. I tried to explain that sometimes you're just outmatched. She didn't much want to listen - a combination of her rock solid faith in the law and a flattering amount of faith in me.

But I got through. I hated every word I was saying. Of course I hated giving up on Eliza McPherson. But I've learned enough to be very, very choosy about my battles with the Sidhe.

If the thirteen hours had passed, then Eliza was either a goblin or had been placed with a fae family. A fae family who would cherish her the rest of their days. And the White Council wanted magic to stay mostly concealed, except where it couldn't - they wouldn't thank me for ripping a child away from a loving fae family to create some kind of quantum reality tangle in the mundane world.

After that, I went home. I didn't consult Bob. I scratched Mister behind the ears, fed him, and took Mouse for a walk. A very long walk. He seemed interested in everything.

When Mouse was done sniffing the air and the street lights and the fire hydrants, we went home. I fed Mouse and slept.

I slept for a long time. I woke up groggy, like I hadn't gotten a proper night's rest in days. I guess getting tangled in fae affairs and waiting for your fairy godmother to appear and register her displeasure will do that to you. It certainly didn't do me any favors.

I wound up getting to my office a little later than usual. I don't get many walk ins - people like to call and confirm that I'm actually a wizard first - so it normally wouldn't matter much.

Irene Williams was waiting for me on the fifth floor. In her arms she clutched a book.

I let her inside. Of course I did. She'd paid me three hundred dollars to have an argument with her step-daughter. Not to mention I was on "price of my continued existence" retainer with her... with her...

Oh god. The Goblin King was her son-in-law.

"Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?" I asked. Admittedly, it probably sounded less like words and more like the start of an avalanche, considering how tired I was.

"No, thank you," Irene said. She placed her big, heavy book on my desk and sat primly in the chair across from mine.

I shrugged and made myself some instant coffee. Then I sat down.

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Williams?"

She picked up her book, leafed through until she found the right page, and then turned it around for me to read.

I scrubbed my eyes and looked down.

I did not like what I saw.

"You're not actually thinking of doing this."

"I'm not a wizard, so I can't." She stared expectantly at me, then traced one of her long, un-painted nails over the words SPELLE OF DISOWNMENT. "Is it a real spell? Would it work?"

I decided not to tell her that it didn't even need to be a real spell. Faerie are bound by words and rules and bargains and trade. The Williamses were Sarah's family because they'd never said they weren't. And they'd never said that because they believed they were.

The moment they said they weren't, the moment they said the formal words, "I disown you, you are no daughter of mine," they would be absolutely, one hundred percent, irrevocably true for Sarah.

She would lose her window. She would lose Toby. And the Goblin King would lose his shit.

"It is," I said. "But it absolutely will not help. The Goblin King is... aware of the problem. He's older, more likely to be pragmatic. Let me talk to him, and I'll see if he can talk sense into Sarah."

Irene gave me a wistful look. "I just want it to be over. No more summoning goblins to do his chores. No more magical gifts. No more electronics going haywire. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in fear for Dave's. If talking to Jareth makes that happen, fine. But if it doesn't..."

"And if you piss off the Goblin King while simultaneously removing his ties of kinship to you, do you think that's going to stop things? Do you really think he's going to let it rest?"

"Worst case scenario, if Sarah's not our family anymore," Irene said, very quietly, "then he'll have no reason to have any interest in us."

Except for the part where Sarah would be distraught, and they would be the cause of her upset.

"You realize that this is going to hurt Sarah, right? And that hurting her is reason enough for him to be signficant-pause type invested in your welbeing - as in, making sure you don't have it? If you do this, you'll be lucky if you don't spend the rest of your life afraid for all three of you."

Irene paused. Her eyes turned cold for a few moments, expression going vague and distant as she thought. I began to wonder if some of the inhuman ruthlessness I'd seen in Sarah really had been instilled after Sarah married the Goblin King. Because looking at Irene now, I could easily believe she'd learned it before.

"You make a good point." Irene sighed. "I don't want to disown her. But if the threat will make her stop and think… I think it's got some worth as a bargaining chip."

Some people.

I was tempted to tell Irene to get out of my office and leave me alone. Problem was, I couldn't wash my hands of this. For one, I wanted to help her. Sarah was a kid in trouble, who'd made a desperate decision and was breaking herself on the consequences; Irene was desperately trying to keep her family together and her husband safe.

For another, if I tried to butt out, the Goblin King would be significant-pause type invested in my wellbeing.

So I asked: "Bargaining chip?"

"Maybe," Irene said, that same trace of ruthlessness in her tone, "we should all meet and discuss where we'll go from here."

She'd finally come around to my way of thinking. So why wasn't I overjoyed?

Rather than try to call up the Goblin King, I called the Goblin Queen. And she was still human enough that I didn't dare use what I knew of her true name.

I drew a circle - not covered in salt - and placed sea shells and marbles at the cardinal points around it.

And then I wished for Sarah, Queen of the Goblins, to come talk to me right now.

Sarah appeared instantly, without the flashy fog or sudden chill. I did get the feeling, yet again, that I'd forgotten or lost something.

Sarah peered at me from behind the circle. I didn't actually expect her to try to do me harm, but better safe than sorry.

"Your step-mother," I told her, "would like to call a meeting at McAnally's."

Sarah smiled.