The Hob (The Gray Court 4) by Dana Marie Bell

pretty and daft. It should be enough.
    He intended to join the con tomorrow as a large, black male, and the day after that? It would depend. If either of his disguises made contact with a delegate, he would use that to further his agenda.
    He checked his watch and grimaced. He wouldn’t have much time to case the convention. Robin would have to make sure he was back to male (and gloss-free) in time for his date with Michaela. Robin’s expression softened. She was an odd little thing, with her big, innocent brown eyes and her easy acceptance of the world around her. There was something about her that drew him, made him want to protect her. If she truly was the one for him…
    Robin shivered, terrified. The way she dealt with the most insane of situations petrified him. She’d run up to a redcap and pepper sprayed it to save a pooka, and nearly charmed the pants off one of Titannia’s top lieutenants, the Fear Dearc. Gods forbid she actually spoke to Cecelia Malmayne in that bathroom. She’d probably arranged to go get her nails done with her.
    Robin paled as thoughts of what his future would hold appeared before his eyes in horrifying detail. What would happen when he let her loose in the Courts? He shuddered at the thought; certain catastrophe would follow in her wake. Would she have Titannia and Gloriana over for tea? Meddle in Oberon’s love life?
    Redecorate the Gray Palace?
    Or worse, interfere with Robin’s work in the guise of “helping” him, thus placing herself in danger too great for her wiles to get her out of?
    Ugh. And the very thing he’d been attempting to avoid had already occurred. She’d gotten him so wrapped up in thoughts of her he was distracted from his very real, very dangerous mission. If he did not pull his head out of his ass, Prince Evan could die.
    Robin grabbed the compact mirror disguised as a cell phone and stuffed it into his purse. Only Oberon knew the trick of creating them. It was an art long lost, along with the Tuatha Dè Dannan, and Oberon was loathe to give them to any but those he trusted implicitly. As far as Robin knew, he was the only other recipient of a mirror since the war that split the Grand Court.
    Robin swirled, his matter dissipating into the ether, reappearing in a swirl of dark mist in a stall in the ladies’ room just outside the fairy convention. He took a deep breath and opened the door, smiling at the startled woman staring at him in the mirror. Considering she was dressed like a troll doll, with bright green hair standing straight up from her head and a fur-lined cloak that had to be too hot to be comfortable, she had a lot of nerve.
    Robin fluffed out his blonde hair one last time and strode for the door. He had a convention to attend and numerous fae to spy on. He would find out what Titannia was up to, come hell or high water. He did his best to ignore the insane humans around him, desperately trying to tap into their own sense of the fae. Since the decree of the gods to hide their existence from humans, the mania to find something, anything supernatural in the world had driven humans to highs and lows of insanity. Between the hunting of “devil worshippers” and the Salem witch trials, to the fake fairy pictures of the early 20th century and faery Wicca, humanity was obsessed with the fae, and not always in a good way. This, however…
    A man in a set of mechanic’s overalls with wings made of wires and gears glided past Robin, deep in conversation with a much more conventional-looking female dressed in sparkly pink. There was a set of welder’s goggles perched on top of the backward baseball cap he wore, bending fake pointed ears. Black tinted nails completed the man’s look. Robin nearly laughed out loud. Too bad Big Red wasn’t here with him. The gremlin would have surely enjoyed the sight.
    Red would have figured out a way to make the man fly.
    Robin snickered. That sounded much dirtier than what he’d meant.
    Red was brilliant, and one of his