"So. You go by Oliver now?"

"Yeah. They don't exactly wanna be protected by a 'Butch'. Great for when I was a butcher, not so much when I was a knight."

I glanced toward the backseat again. Lark was following the path of the wipers with her head, Vic and Teal were playing cards, and Stacey was leaning his head against the window.

"So tell me about your life before Mom."

"Like I said, I called myself Butch because I was a butcher. I became a knight, went by Oliver, met your mom, left, quit the knights."

"Why did you quit?"

He hesitated, eyes darting around the car. "I'll tell you later."

"Why?"

"We're here," he said, pulling up to a small tree.

"You live in a tree?"

He rolled his eyes. "There's obviously a force field. I used to be in law enforcement."

He stepped against the tree, and it suddenly appeared as a large wooden house.

"Sage merde! Le père d'Thorn a de la richesse!" Stacey exclaimed.

The truck shuddered and Ford replaced it, shaking his head a bit like a dog.

"You guys are heavy," he complained, rubbing his back. "I'm usually only used to carrying three fairies. They're light as air!"

"That is true," said Lark, who, like all the others who'd been in the truck, was sitting on the ground. Vic and Teal had been braiding her hair and were still sitting on her lap.

"Come in," Oliver whispered urgently, opening the door.

We did as told, and the door closed behind us.

"Woah!"