Faefever (Fever, #3)

by Karen Marie Moning

“The fuck he did. He said Fourth and Langley. Seven dead. Why do you care?” What kind of monster had ears like that? Couldn’t I have gotten a half-deaf one? Scowling, I continued toward the door. “You will stop right there, and tell me where you’re going.” My feet stopped, independent of my will. The bastard had used Voice. “Don’t do this to me,” I gritted, sweat breaking out on my forehead. I was fighting him with all I had, and weakening quickly. I wanted to tell him where I was going nearly as badly as I wanted to kill the Lord Master. “Don’t make me,” he said in a normal voice. “I thought we were working together, Ms. Lane. I thought we were allied in a common cause. Did that phone call from the inspector have something to do with the Sinsar Dubh? You aren’t keeping something from me, are you?” “No.” “Final warning. If you don’t answer me, I’ll rip it from your throat. And while I’m at it, I’ll ask anything else I feel like asking, too.” “That’s not fair! I can’t use Voice on you,” I cried. “You’re only teaching me to resist it.”

“You’ll never be able to use it on me. Not if I teach you. Teacher and student develop immunity to each other. There’s quite an incentive for you, eh, Ms. Lane? Now talk. Or I’ll take the information I want, and if you fight me, it’ll hurt.” He was a shark who’d scented blood and he wasn’t going to stop circling until he’d devoured me. I had no doubt he would do as he was threatening, and if he got started forcing answers from me, I was afraid of what he might ask. He’d heard the address. With or without me, he was going there. It would be better if I went, too. I’d think of a plan along the way. “Get in the car. I’ll tell you while we’re driving.” “My bike’s out front. If traffic’s bad, it’s faster. If you’ve been holding out on me, you’re in deep trouble, Ms. Lane.” Of that, I had no doubt. But I wasn’t sure who was going to be more pissed at me before the night was through: Barrons because I hadn’t told him sooner, or V’lane because I’d broken my promise to him and told Barrons at all. The alien thing piercing my tongue felt intrusive and dangerous in my mouth.

Like jacked-up pickup trucks in the Deep South, Harleys are an ode to testosterone: the bigger and louder the better. Down south, trucks and bikes roar Look at me! Hot damn, I’m big and noisy and wild and, yeehaw, wouldn’t you like a piece of me? Barrons’ Harley didn’t roar. It didn’t even purr. A chrome and ebony predator, it glided soundlessly into the night, whispering, I’m big and silent and deadly, and you’d better hope I don’t get a piece of you. I could feel fury in the set of his shoulders beneath my hands as we careened through narrow alleys, around corners, laying the bike so low I had to tuck up my feet and keep my legs crushed to the sides for fear of scraping off a few layers of skin, but as with everything else Barrons undertook, he was a master of precision. The

for him I wasn’t sure a bike could do. Several times I almost wrapped my arms and legs around him and clambered onto his back, for fear of falling off.

His body bristled with anger. The fact that I knew something about the Book that I hadn’t told him was as deep a transgression as transgressions could go, as far as he was concerned. I’d learned the last time we’d had a brush with the Sinsar Dubh that it was his end-all/be-all, for whatever reason. Despite the unnerving dark energy rolling off him, eventually I hugged him with all my might just to stay on the bike. It was like embracing a low-level electrical current. Sometimes I wonder if Barrons has any real awareness of risk of injury. He doesn’t live like he does. “It’s not like you don’t keep secrets from me!” I finally shouted against his ear. “I don’t keep ones from you that involve the fucking Book,” he snarled over his shoulder. “That’s our deal, isn’t it? If nothing else, we’re honest with each other about the Book.” “I don’t trust you!” “And you think I trust you? You haven’t been out of fucking diapers long enough to be trusted, Ms. Lane! I’m not even sure you should be allowed to handle sharp objects!” I punched him in the side. “That’s not true. Who ate Unseelie? Who survived no matter the cost? Who keeps getting out there facing all kinds of twisted monsters, and ...

making it sound like men were laughing all around me, and it was creepy. “The day I give you answers will be the day you no longer need them.” “The day I no longer need...

d...

it?” I shook my head. “It’s already gone. That way,” I pointed west. An icy channel sluiced east through the night. I would lead him in the opposite direction, and eventually claim that I’d lost its “signal.” I felt sick to my stomach, and not because of all the bodies and blood. The Sinsar Dubh is the ultimate in nausea. I reached in my pocket and thumbed out a Tums. I had the beginnings of a brutal migraine, and hoped it wouldn’t spike. “Later you’re going to tell me everything you know. Somehow you’ve figured out how it’s moving around the city, and it’s linked to the crimes, isn’t it?” He was good. When I nodded gingerly, trying not to split my skull, he said, “And somehow you managed to coerce Jayne into feeding you information. How you accomplished that, frankly, confounds me.” “Gee, maybe I’m not as inept as you think I am.” I popped another Tums in my mouth and made a mental note to start carrying aspirin, too. After a pause, he said tightly, “Maybe you’re not,” which was very nearly an apology from Barrons. “I fed him Unseelie.” “Are you fucking nuts?” Barrons exploded. “It worked.” His eyes narrowed. “One might think you’re developing situational ethics.” “You think I don’t know what those are. My father’s an attorney. I know what those are.” A faint smile curved his lips. “Get back on the bike and tell me where to go.” “I’ll tell you where to go,” I muttered sourly, and he laughed. As we sped down the street, away from the Dark Book, my headache began to ease. I...

Ms. Lane, but tell me you didn’t tell him.” “I had to. I needed him to do something for me, and it was all I had to offer up that I was willing to part with. But I didn’t tell him everything.” In fact, I’d deliberately led him astray, so how had he found me tonight? Dumb luck? He couldn’t possibly be checking out every crime in the city! Anger reclaimed Barrons’ body, worse than before. He stopped so abruptly that I slammed into his back, fell off the bike, and went sprawling. By the time I stood up and dusted myself off, Barrons was off the bike; V’lane, too, had stopped, and was standing in the street about twenty-five feet away. “Come here, Ms. Lane. Now.”

I didn’t move. I was pissed that he’d dumped me like that. It had made my head hurt even worse. Besides, a furious Barrons isn’t something you want to stand next to any more than you’d want to cozy up to a pissed-off cobra. “Unless you want him to sift in and take you, get close to me. Now. Or do you want to go with him?”

glanced at V’lane and moved to Barrons’ side. V’lane was so glacial with displeasure that a small blizzard was icing his end of the street, and I wasn’t dressed for the weather. Okay, so maybe V’lane scares me a little more than Barrons does. V’lane uses his sexuality against me and I’m susceptible to it. Barrons doesn’t. Even now, my hand was slipping to my fly, grazing the zipper, and I nearly whimpered. I sought that cool alien place in my pounding head. I’m strong, I told myself, a sidhe-seer. I will not give in. Barrons draped an arm over my shoulder and I moved into the shelter of it. The thing on my tongue burned. My brand itched. At that moment, I despised them both. “Stay away from her,” Barrons growled. “She comes to me of her own will. She calls me, chooses me.” V’lane was in high glamour, gold and bronze and iridescent ice. He raked me with an imperious gaze. “I will attend to you later. You broke our bargain. There is a price for that.” He smiled, bu...

didn’t break our bargain intentionally, V’lane. Barrons overheard something he shouldn’t have overheard.” “Omission or commission, what difference?” “There is one. Even the courts of law permit the distinction.” “Human law. Fae law acknowledges no such thing. There are outcomes. The means by which they are achieved have no bearing. You said you did not know how to track the Book.” “I don’t. I just followed a hunch tonight. Got lucky. You?” “Impudence and lies, MacKayla. I suffer neither.” “You won’t harm a hair on her h...

“You have no right to it,” V’lane was telling Barrons. “Might makes right. Hasn’t that always been your motto?” Barrons said. “You could never understand my motto.” “Better than you think, fairy.” “There is nothing you could do with it even if you managed to get it. You do not speak the language in which it was scribed, and could never hope to decode it.” “Maybe I have the stones.” “Not all of them,” V’lane said coldly, and

“Why do you two hate each other so much?” “Have you fucked her yet?” V’lane ignored me completely. “I’m not trying to.” “Translation: Your efforts have failed.” “No, they haven’t,” I said. “He hasn’t tried. FYI, boys, and I use that term loosely, there’s more to me than sex.” “Which is why you’re still alive, Ms. Lane. Keep cultivating those parts.”

I had them both together, for a novel change, I had a hunch I wanted to test. “What is Barrons?” I asked V’lane. “Human, or something else?” The Fae Prince looked at Barrons, and said nothing. Barrons shot me a sharp look. “So, Barrons,” I said sweetly, “tell me about V’lane. Is he a good guy or a bad guy?” Barrons looked away and said nothing. I shook my head, disgusted. It was as I’d suspected. Men. Were they the same among all species, whether human or not? “Both of you have something on the other, and neither of you will rat it out, in order to keep your own secrets safe. Unbelievable. You hate each other, and still stick together. Well, guess what? Screw you. I’m done with you both.” “Big words from a little human,” V’lane said. “You need us.” “He’s right. Deal with it, Ms. Lane.” Great. Now they were uniting forces against me. I preferred V’lane disappearing when Barrons appeared. Did this mean V’lane wasn’t afraid of Barrons, after all? I eyed the space between them. If Barrons were to step forward, would V’lane step back? I could hardly suggest it. After a moment’s consideration, I moved out from beneath Barron’s arm, and stepped behind him. I felt him relax a little. I think he thought I was seeking the shelter of his body, using the movement to show that I’d chosen a side. I imagined he looked pretty self-satisfied right now. I shoved him forward as hard as I could. V’lane glided instantly back. Barrons jerked a furious look over his shoulder at me. I smiled. I d...

Last night Barrons and I hadn’t said a word to each other all the way back to the bookstore. He’d dropped me at the front and watched me walk in. Then, he’d given me a smile that was all teeth and nastiness, and driven straight into the Dark Zone, managing to say “Fuck you, Ms. Lane,” without even bothering to open his mouth. He knows

his refusal to tell me why the Shades don’t eat him irks me.

I want to be so fearless. I want to be so bad and tough that all the mo...

At quarter to ten, I was waiting for Barrons to arrive, and my Voice lessons to begin. We’d set a standing engagement, and although I knew he was probably still angry with me, I expected him to show. I didn’t mind hopping. He could make me squawk like a chicken, for all I cared. If he made me feel stupid enough, I’d figure out how to resist him.

The bell above the door tinkled. Barrons stepped in. He swept a gaze from my head to my feet, slowly. His face tightened, then he worked his way back up, just as slowly. I guess he didn’t like my clothes. He rarely does. Left to my own devices, I dress too happy to suit his tastes. Ms. Rainbow and Mr. Night. That’s what we look like walking around together. To defuse any tension left over from last night, I offered him a smile, and a friendly, “Hey,” letting him know I was willing to start this night off fresh, and hoped he was, too. I sensed his violence a split second before he attacked me, and then it was too late. He slammed the door behind him. Dead bolts ratcheted into place. “Tell me every detail of the last time you saw the Sinsar Dubh.” Voice compacted my body in a head-to-toe vise, and squeezed brutally. Shit, shit, shit. I doubled over, the breath slammed out of me. A legion of voices rebounded in the room, careening off the walls, intensifying as they zoomed left and right, up and down, then through me, burrowing into my skin, rearranging things in my head, making my mind his. Dominating. Seducing. Selling me the lie that his will was mine, and I lived to obey it.

beaded on my brow and upper lip, and slicked my palms. The harder I tried to fight the compulsion, the less possible it was to inflate my lungs, to move any part of my body at all. A paper doll, I hung, folded, limp, spineless. And like a paper doll, he could tear me in half, if he wanted to. “Stop fighting me, Ms. Lane, and it’ll go easier. Unless you enjoy the pain.” In my mind I spewed a geyser of curses, but not a word came out. I had no breath to fuel it. He’d topped the level he’d used on me last night—the level of proficiency he’d said the Lord Master had achieved—and he’d done it with a voice of silk. Like the difference between other men’s motorcycles and his, Barrons walks softly—but he carries the biggest stick I’ve ever seen. “Nice tan, Ms. Lane. How’s V’lane? Did you have a good time today? I take you to graveyards, but he takes you to the beach—is that what our problem is? Our little dates aren’t good enough for you? Does he romance you? Feed you all those pretty lies you’re so hungry for? I’ve been neglecting you lately. I’ll be remedying that. Sit. Over there.” He pointed to a chair near the fire. I jerked upright and tiptoed tightly toward the indicated seat, not because I felt dainty, but because that’s what happens when you try to lock down your leg muscles to prevent your

and falling, but your body moves anyway. One resistant step after the next, I minced toward the chair. I reached it and collapsed into it like a rag doll. My throat muscles convulsed and I tried to force out words. “D-don’t … d-do—” “You will not speak unless it is in direct answer to one of my questions.” My lips sealed. I couldn’t believe he was doing this to me. How ironic that V’lane had asked me to trust him today, I had, and he hadn’t betrayed me. I’d been ready to open up a little to Barrons tonight, tell him a few things, and he’d betrayed me. V’lane had muted his sexuality to preserve my will. Barrons had just stripped it away with a single command, no different from the Lord Master. “Tell me what you saw the night you encountered the Sinsar Dubh,” he repeated. Straining in my skin, nearly suffocating myself with my attempts to resist, I spilled every detail, every last thought, every perception. From the humiliation of lying in that vile puddle in my pretty clothes, to the various forms the B...

pondered his thoughts. There was violence in the room with us, a killing violence. I didn’t get it. What had I done to piss him off so much? He hadn’t been half this angry last night, and he’d had every opportunity to grill me forcibly then. He hadn’t. He’d just driven off. “Where did you go today?” Sweat dripping down my face, I told him that, too. I wanted to speak of my own free will, to call him every name in the book, to tell him we were through, he and I, and that I was the one who deserved answers, not him. But he’d sealed my lips with a command, and I could only answer what he asked. “Did V’lane tell you anything?” “Yes,” I said flatly, biting it off there. I’d obeyed the compulsion to the letter. I didn’t have to offer more. “What did he tell you?” “That the Lord Master was once a Fae, named Darroc.” He snorted. “Old news. Did he tell you anything about me?” O...

Dangerous. “No.” “Did you fuck him?” “No,” I gritted. “Have you ever fucked him?” “No,” I ground out. I’d never had two men more obsessed with what was happening in my sex life, or rather, not happening. Some of the violence in the air abated. My eyes narrowed. Was this it? The source of his rage? Was Barrons jealous? Not because he cared, but because he thought of me as a possession, his personal and private sidhe-seer, and there would be no other men’s erections interfering with her OOP detections? He gave me a cold look. “I needed to know if you were Pri-ya. That’s why I asked.” “Do I look Pri-ya?” I snapped. I had no idea what a Fae addict looked like, but I somehow doubted I was the Poster Girl for it. I figured them for something more like the Goth girls I’d seen hanging out at Mallucé’s vampire lair: pierced, tattooed, and heavily made-up, dressed in vintage clothing, mostly black. He started, measured me a moment, then laughed.

direct question! I tried to do it again, mentally forming the words, but I couldn’t force them out. I didn’t know how I’d done it in the first place. “Who were you going to see the night you saw the Sinsar Dubh?” Oh, no. This wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to know everything. “A guy that knew Alina,” I said between clenched teeth. “Tell me his name.” No, no, no. “Christian MacKeltar.” “Are you fucking kidding me?” He exploded from his chair and glared down at me. Since he’d used Voice, I was obligated to say, “No,” although I knew the question had been rhetorical. The killing violence was back, over a simple name. Why? What significance did Christian’s name have to him? Did he know him? Closing my eyes, I sought the sidhe-seer place in my head. It was no help. I still couldn’t speak. How could I feel so much power in that hot, alien part of my mind, yet find nothing there of use to me in this situation? “How did you meet Christian MacKeltar?” “He works at the ALD at Trinity. I met him when you sent me to pick up the invitation to the auction from his boss, but she wasn’t there.”

“He must be a recent hire. They’ve been spying on me.” He hadn’t used Voice, nor had he asked a question, so I said nothing. “Have the MacKeltars been spying on me?” Squeezing my eyes shut, I said, “Yes.” “Have you been spying on me, Ms. Lane?” “As much as I can.” “What have you learned about me?” I went poking around in my head again but whatever place I was supposed to discover remained a mystery to me. Aware that I was digging my own grave, one spadeful of information at a time, I told him. That I knew he wasn’t human. That I knew he was impossibly old. That I’d watched him step out of the Unseelie Sifting Silver he kept in his study, carrying the savagely brutalized corpse of a woman. That, like the Shades, the demons in there had fled his path. He laughed. As if it was some kind of joke that I knew all his dark secrets. He didn’t try to explain or justify one bit of it. “And I didn’t think you could keep your own counsel. You knew these things and never said a word. You’re becoming interesting. Are you working with the MacKeltars against me?” “No.” “Are you working with V’lane against me?” “No.”

“Are you working with the sidhe-seers against me?” “No.” “Are you working with anyone against me?” “No.” “Where do your loyalties lie, Ms. Lane?” “With myself,” I shouted. “With my sister! With my family, and screw all of you!” The violence in the room abated. After a moment, Barrons resumed his seat in the chair across from me, ...

Mac? He’d called me Mac? I fought for breath. “Am I about to die?” I wheezed. “Are you going to kill me?” He looked startled. I’d done it again. Spoken of my own will. He’d released my body, but not his hold on my mind and mouth. I could still feel it, compelling me, hurting me. Then he snorted. “I tell you to relax and you think I’m going to kill you? You’re ...

am not. The only two times you ever called me Mac is when I was near death. Since there’s no other threat around right now, you must be about to kill me. It’s perfectly logical.” “I didn’t call you Mac.” “Yes, you did.” “I called you Ms. Lane.” “No, you didn’t.” “Yes, I did.” I clenched my jaw. Sometimes, despite Barrons’ eternal old-world sophistication, and my glamour-girl cool, he and I very nearly devolve into childish fights. Frankly, I didn’t give a rat’s petunia what he’d called me, and wasn’t about to sit here and argue about it. I was free, and furious. I exploded from my chair, launched myself at him, and slammed both palms against his chest. I put every ounce of determination to Null into my hands that I could summon. My sidhe-seer core blazed like a small fiery sun in my head. Was he or wasn’t he Unseelie? I hit him so hard that his chair toppled backward and we went skidding across the floor toward the fireplace, stopping inches from the grate. If he froze at all, it was for so brief a moment

couldn’t decide if I’d nulled him, or merely startled him into a brief second of immobility. Figured. More non-answers where Barrons was concerned. I reared back, straddling him, and punched him in the jaw as hard as I could. He started to speak and I punched him again. I wished I’d eaten Unseelie. I was going to go eat ten of them tonight then come back here and finish him off, the hell with answers. “How dare you saunter in here and force me to give you answers when you’ve never given me a single one?” I hissed. I punched him in the stomach, hard. He didn’t even wince. I punched him again. Nothing. “You stand there all tan and glowing and wonder why I use Voice on you?” he bellowed. “Where the hell do you get off? You’ve been with V’lane again. How many slaps in the face do you think I’m going to take, Ms. Lane?” He grabbed my fist and held it when I tried to punch him again. I swung at him with the other. He caught that, too. “I warned you not to play us against each other.” “I’m not playing you! I’m trying to survive. And I don’t slap you when I go off with V’lane!” I tried to yank my fists from his hands. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you. I’m trying to get answers, and since you won’t give me any, you can’t blame me for going somewhere else.” “So, the man who doesn’t get laid at home has the right to go off and cheat?” “Huh?” “Which word didn’t you understand?” he sneered. “You’re the one who’s crippled by illogic. This isn’t home, it never will be, and nobody...

my

head, the weight of his body crushing me to the floor, his face inches from mine. He was breathing harder than the exertion merited. “Make no mistake, Ms. Lane, I didn’t rape you. You can lie there on your pretty little P.C. ass and claim with your idealistic little P.C. arguments that any violation of your will is rape and that I’m a big, bad bastard, and I’ll tell you that you’re full of shit, and you’ve obviously never been raped. Rape is much, much worse. Rape isn’t something you walk awa...

get things back on track. He inhaled and released it slowly. “My uncles want Barrons to help them hold the walls

They say he’s Druid trained, and not afraid of the dark side.” I laughed. No, he certainly wasn’t afraid of the dark side. Some days I was pretty sure he was the dark side. “You’re right. It’s a terrible idea. Not only does he know you guys have been spying on him, Barrons is mercenary to the core. He doesn’t give a rat’s petunia about anyone but himself. Why would he care if the walls come down? Everybody’s afraid of him. He has nothing to lose.” “What did you just say?” “In a nutshell, he doesn’t care.” “You said he knows we’ve been spying on him? How?”

let him do that to you? Push you around like that? Force answers from you?” The tiger-gold gaze swept me up and down, the

tightened. “I thought you were … a different kind of girl.” “I am a different kind of girl!” Or at least I had been when I first came to Dublin. I wasn’t sure what kind of girl I was now. But I hated the look in his eyes: aloofness, censure, disappointment. “He’s never done it before. We have a complicated … association.” “Doesn’t sound like an association to me. Sounds like a tyranny.” I wasn’t about to discuss the complexities of life with Barrons, with anyone, especially not a living, breathing polygraph test. “He’s trying to teach me to resist Voice.” “Guess you aren’t very good at it. And good luck. Voice is a skill that can take a lifetime to learn.” “Look, you guys were planning to talk to him anyway. I’m sorry, okay?” He measured me. “Make up for it, then. Talk to him for us. Tell him what we want.” “I don’t think you can trust him.” “I don’t, either. I told my uncles that. They overruled me. The problem is we aren’t sure we can keep the walls up, even with Barrons’ help.” He paused then said grimly, “But we know we can’t without him.” He opened a notepad, tore off a scrap of paper, wrote on it, and

“Here’s where you can ...

think Barrons won’t be coming after me? I just wonder what’s taken him this long. My uncles told me if he ever got wise to me, I should get out, fast. Besides, I told you what I came back to say, and they can use me at home.” He moved toward the door, opened it, then paused and looked back at me, golden eyes troubled. “Are you having sex with him, Mac?” I gaped. “Barrons?” He nodded. “No!” Christian sighed and folded his arms over his chest. “What?” I snapped. “I’ve never slept with Barrons. Subject that to your little lie detector test. Not that I see how it’s any of your concern.” “My uncles want to know exactly where you stand, Mac. A woman who’s having sex with a man is a compromised source of information, at best. At worst, she’s a traitor. That’s how it’s my concern.” I thought of Alina, and wanted to protest that it wasn’t true, but what had she betrayed to her lover, believing them to be on the same side? “I’ve never had sex with Barrons,” I told him again. “Satisfied?” His gaze was remote, a tiger assessing its prey. “Answer one more question, and I might be: Do you want to have sex with Barrons?”

was the one I should be thinking about having sex with. “No,” I said clearly. “I don’t want to have sex with Jericho Barrons.” “Lie,” Christian said.

didn’t hear him behind me. I felt him. Electric. Wild. One foot in the swamp. Never going to crawl all the way out. And I wanted to have sex with whatever he was. Where was I supposed to put that in my head? I wadded the thought up, stuffed it in my padlocked box, and tested the chains. I was going to need a few more. I turned and we had one of those wordless conversations that were our specialty. Nice apology, I said, but not enough. It’s not an apology. I don’t owe you one. Our wordless conversation ended there. We’re getting worse at them. Distrust clouds my eyes, and I can’t see past it. “Do you have news for me, today, Ms. Lane?” said Barrons.

thrust my hands in my pockets. “No run-ins with the Book.” “No calls from Jayne?” I shook my head. He could Voice me on that one, and I’d still be able to say no. He’d asked the wrong question. I took perverse pleasure in that. “Any contact with V’lane?” “Aren’t you Question Boy tonight? Why don’t you try judging my actions?” I said. “Speaking of which, I’ve decided I see the wisdom of your advice.” “Has Hell frozen over?” he said dryly. “Funny. I’m not going to ask you questions tonight, Barrons. I’m going to ask you for three actions.” It seemed my gut had come up with a plan. I hoped my instincts were sound. Interest uncoiled like a dark snake in his eyes. “Go on.” I reached beneath my jacket, removed my spear from the shoulder harness, and held it out to him. “Here. Take this.” Here it was, the moment of truth. So simple. So telling. Dark eyes narrowed; the snake in them moved. “Who have you been talking to, Ms. Lane?” he said softly. “No one.” “Tell me what you’re after or I won’t play your little game.”

There was no room for negotiation in his voice. I shrugged. It was past time to force this confrontation. “I’ve heard that an Unseelie can’t touch a Seelie Hallow.” “So, now I’m not eating them,” he said, reminding me of a prior accusation I’d made against him, “I am them? You’ve quite the imagination, Ms. Lane.” “Just take it,” I said irritably. The suspense was killing me. I knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Barrons was a Gripper. That was all there was to it. Long, strong, elegant fingers closed around steel. He took the spear. Astonished, certain his features would be contorted in pain, my gaze flew to his face. There wasn’t a flicker of a lash, not the smallest shift of a muscle. Nothing. If anything, he looked bored. He offered it back. “Satisfied?” I refused to take it. Maybe if he kept holding it, something would happen. He waited. I waited. Eventually I started to feel stupid a...

“Try not

to look so disappointed. One might almost think you wanted me to be Unseelie, Ms. Lane. What’s your second request?” I wanted him to be something. I wanted to be able to peg him and put him somewhere and quit being torn in half, one moment believing him my avenging angel, the next, certain he was the devil himself. I couldn’t live like this, not knowing who to trust. Off-kilter, I blurted, “I want you to give me the D’Jai Orb.” “Why?” “So I can give it to the sidhe-seers.” “You trust them?” “In this,” I qualified. “I believe they’ll use it for the greater good.” “I despise that phrase, Ms. Lane. Atrocities have been committed in its name. What is the greater good but tyranny’s chameleon? For eons it has changed skins to sate the current ruler’s hunger for political and spiritual dominion.” He had a point there. But in this case, the greater good was my whole world, as I knew

knowing it. I clarified. “They think they can use it to reinforce the walls on Halloween.” “Very well. I will bring it to you tomorrow night.” I almost fell over. “Really?” Two surprises: Barrons wasn’t Unseelie, and he’d just agreed to hand over a priceless relic, asking nothing in return. Why was he being so nice? Was this his apology for last night? “What’s the third thing you want, Ms. Lane?” This one was going to be a little trickier. “What do you know about the walls between realms?” “I know they’re paper-thin at the moment. I know some of the smaller, less powerful Fae have been slipping through the cracks, without the Lord Master’s help. The prison continues to contain the most powerful.” His comment sidetracked me. “You know, that just doesn’t make sense. Why are the less powerful ones able to escape? I’d think it would be the other way around.” “The walls were created from a formidable magic,” he said, “which no Fae has been able to match since. At great cost to hersel...

“So, do you know why the walls are so thin?” “Aren’t you Question Girl tonight?” I gave him a look. He smiled faintly. “Why are the walls so thin?” “Because when the Compact was struck, humans were appointed to help maintain them. But those responsible for keeping them up with their rituals—the most important of which take place every Halloween—have been attacked by dark magic each time they’ve performed it over the past few years. They’ve exhausted the limits of their knowledge and power. If it happens again this year—and there’s every reason to expect it will—the walls will come down completely. Even the prison walls.” “What does this have to do with me, Ms. Lane?” “If the walls come down completely, all the Unseelie will get out, Barrons.” “So?” “You told me once you didn’t want that to happen.” “Doesn’t m...

wanted to strangle him. “Will you?” “Motivate me.” “If nothing else, it’ll keep me safer. A safer OOP detector is a happier one. Happier is more productive.” “You haven’t detected anything of use to me for several weeks.” “You haven’t asked me to,” I said defensively. “There’s an OOP you know I want, yet you withheld information from me about it.” “You have that information now. What’s the problem?” Had I just sounded like V’lane? “The problem is I still don’t have the OOP, Ms. Lane.” “I’m working on it. I’ll be able to work faster, the safer I am. If the walls come down, every Unseelie out there will be hunting it, getting in my way. You told me once that you didn’t want more of them in your city. Was that a lie?” “Point made. What do you want from me?” “I want you to join them on Halloween and help them perform the ritual. And I want you to promise not to harm them.” Because of the delicate way I’d shaped our conversation, it sounded as if I was asking him to help the sidhe-seers. He measured me a long moment, then said, “I’ll swap you an action for an action. Get me within sight distance of the Sinsar Dubh, and I’ll help your little friends.” “Help my little friends,” I count...

“It’s not the sidhe-seers.” He stopped and went very still. “Who is it?” “The MacKeltars.” He was silent a long moment. Then he began to laugh, softly. “Well played, Ms. Lane.” “I had a good teacher.” “The best. Hop on one foot, Ms. Lane.” Voice...

seven o’clock Saturday evening, I was sitting in the front conversation area of the bookstore, legs crossed, foot kicking air impatiently, waiting for Barrons. Your problem, Ms. Lane, he’d said last night, after he’d handed me the Orb, is you’re still being passive. Sitting around, waiting for phone calls. Although Jayne wasn’t an entirely bad idea—

Jayne was a brilliant idea and you know