“No,” Rhiannon said too quickly. The portal loomed and it was all she could do not to leap through right now. “I want it done.”

She had done all the waiting she could stand. Her backpack contained an assortment of materials gathered for her journey, be it by car or Elfleda’s hand: gloves, a dark cap, a knife, a lighter and a small tin of flammable liquid, a length of rope, binoculars purchased at military surplus, and a stake since he was keeping company with vampires of late. The truth was, she didn’t know yet how she wanted to do this; she’d settle on an approach when she saw Duncan. If she’d had a gun, Rhiannon would have brought it, too.

But now one thing was certain: if she didn’t kill him, she’d be in Elfleda’s debt.

“If I want to deliver him … I mean his soul to you, how? It’s not a firefly in a jar.”