"Faefever" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moning Karen Marie)

Chapter 11

I hurried back to the bookstore, deep in thought. Not, however, with my head down. I wasn’t making that mistake again today. I won the struggle not to frown at two Rhino-boys that were repairing a streetlamp. What was their deal? Shouldn’t they be supporting their dark brethren, the Shades, and busting out the lights, instead of fixing them?

I couldn’t believe the sidhe-seers had been guardians of the Book and lost it. How had it been lost? What had happened that night twenty-some years ago?

My meeting with the sidhe-seers had answered few questions, and raised more.

What was sowen? How did the D’Jai Orb fit in? How had Barrons gotten it? What did he plan to do with it? Sell it to the highest bidder? Could I steal it from him? Did I want to burn that bridge? Were there any bridges left between us?

If the Orb was my passport to Sidhe-seer Central, I was determined to get it, by fair means or foul. Was Rowena manipulating their efforts to befriend me? Had she allowed Dani to photograph those pages and give them to me, seemingly on the sly?

My short time in Dublin had me looking for games within games everywhere I turned. I’d sure like to get Christian into the same room with a few people and employ his lie-detecting abilities while I asked questions.

Speaking of the Scot, I tried calling him again. There was no answer, again. Grrr. Wondering what exactly constituted “afternoon” in the dreamy-eyed boy’s world, I let myself into the store, opened my laptop, and logged onto the Net.

My search for “sowen” yielded no results. I tried half a dozen different spellings, and was about to give up when a Google search result caught my eye. It was about trick-or-treating, which brought to mind O’Bannion’s earlier crack.

I looked up Halloween and bingo, there it was: sowen—gee, why didn’t I think of spelling it S-a-m-h-a-i-n?

Samhain had its origins, like many modern holidays or celebrations, in pagan times. As the sidhe-seers had been inclined to erect churches and abbeys on their sacred sites, the Vatican had been wont to “Christianize” ancient, pagan celebrations in an if-you-can’t-beat-them-and-don’t-want-to-join-them-rename-it-and-pretend-it-was-yours-all-along campaign.

Scrolling past the various names, etymology, and pictures of jack-o’-lanterns and witches, I read.

Samhain: the word for November in the Gaelic language marks the beginning of the dark half of the Gaulish year, with Beltane adventing the light half.

Great. So, these past few months hadn’t been the dark ones?

Technically, Samhain refers to November 1, christened All Saints’ Day by the Vatican, but it’s Samhain night— Oiche Shamhna, October 31st, that has long been the focus of ritual and superstition.

Celts believed All Hallows’ Eve was one of the liminal (Latin, meaning threshold) times of the year, when spirits from the Otherworld could slip through, and when magic was most potent. Since the Celts held that both their dead and the terrifying, immortal Sidhe resided in mounds beneath the earth, on this night both could rise and walk freely. Festivals were held and large communal bonfires were lit to ward off these evil spirits.

I read entry after article, astonished by how many countries and cultures held similar beliefs. I’d never given any thought to the origins of Halloween, just happily collected the candy, and in later years had a blast with the costumes and parties, and enjoyed the great tips if I was working.

Bottom line was the walls between our world and the “Otherworld” were dangerously thin on the last day of October, at their most vulnerable at precisely midnight, the crack between one half of the year and the next, the threshold between light and dark, and if anything was going to try to get through, or if anyone—say an evil ex-Fae with vengeance issues—wanted to bring them crashing down around our ears, that was the time to try it.

Certain nights of the year, lass, Christian had told me, my uncles perform rituals to reinforce our pledge and keep the walls between our realms solid. The last few times, some other dark magic rose up, and prevented the tithe from being fully paid. My uncles believe the walls won’t last through another incomplete ritual.

Certain nights. Wouldn’t last through another incomplete ritual.

Was Samhain the night the MacKeltars’ next ritual was to be performed? Were we that close to disaster—two short weeks away? Was this the meaning of O’Bannion’s snide threat?

I thumbed redial and called the ALD again. Again, there was no answer. The waiting had been making me crazy all day, and now I didn’t just need to warn him, I needed answers. Where was he?

Powering down my laptop, I locked up and headed for Trinity.

Surprisingly, I dozed off, slumped sideways against the wall outside the locked offices of the ALD. I think it was because I felt like Mac 1.0 there, in the brightly lit hallway, on a college campus, surrounded by the happy sounds of youth that didn’t have a clue what was waiting for them out in the real world.

I woke to someone touching my face and my inner sidheseer exploded.

The next thing I knew, Christian was on the floor beneath me, and my spear was at his throat. My muscles were rigid. I was ready for a fight; my adrenaline had no outlet. Dreams had shattered the moment I’d felt myself touched. My brain was cold, clear, and hard.

I took a deep breath, and ordered myself to relax.

Christian nudged the spear from his throat. “Easy, Mac. I was just trying to wake you. You looked so sweet and pretty asleep.” His smile was fleeting. “I’ll not be making that mistake again.”

We separated awkwardly. As I’ve said before, Christian is a man, and there’s no mistaking it. I’d been straddling him much the way I’d straddled Barrons recently. Either my spear hadn’t intimidated him or he’d managed to. well, rise above it.

Speaking of my weapon, his gaze was fixed on it with fascination. It was emitting a soft, luminous glow. “It’s the Spear of Destiny, isn’t it?” He looked awed.

I slid it back in my shoulder harness and said nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had it, Mac? We’d been bidding on it, trying to buy it. We thought it was out there on the black market. We need it now more than ever. It’s one of only two weapons that can kill—”

“I know. It kills Fae. That’s why I have it. And I didn’t tell you because it’s mine and I’m not giving it up.”

“I didn’t ask you to. There’s nothing I could do with it, anyway. I can’t see them.”

“Right. And that’s why you shouldn’t have it.”

“A little touchy, are we?”

I flushed. I was. “Someone tried to steal it from me recently, and it went badly,” I explained. “Where have you been, anyway? I’ve been calling you all day. I was getting worried.”

“My plane was delayed.” He unlocked the door, and pushed it open. “I’m glad you’re here. I was going to call you as soon as I got in. My uncles have an idea they want me to talk to you about. I think it’s a terrible idea, but they insist.”

“Samhain is the night your uncles have to perform the next ritual, isn’t it?” I said, as we stepped inside. “And if they don’t get it right, the walls between our worlds are going to come down and we’re all screwed.” I shivered. It had sounded weirdly like I’d just made a proclamation: The walls between our worlds are going to come down and we’re all screwed.

Christian closed the door behind me. “Smart girl. How’d you figure it out?” He gestured to a chair opposite his but I was too wound up to take it. I paced instead.

“The sidhe-seers mentioned Samhain. They want. ” I trailed off and looked at him hard, searching his gaze for. I don’t know. maybe a big, block-lettered message that said YOU CAN TRUST ME, I’M NOT EVIL. I sighed. Sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith. “They want the D’Jai Orb to try to reinforce the walls. Would it work?”

He rubbed his jaw and it made a rasping sound. He hadn’t shaved in several days and the shadow beard looked good on him. “I don’t know. It’s possible. I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know what it does. Who are these sidhe-seers? You’ve found more of your own, then?”

“You’re kidding, right?” He knew so much about Barrons, and the Book, that I’d assumed he also knew about Rowena and her couriers, and probably V’lane, too.

He shook his head.

“You said you followed Alina. Didn’t you see other women out there, watching things that weren’t there?”

“I had reasons to watch your sister. She had a photocopy of a page of the Sinsar Dubh. I’ve had no cause to watch others.”

“I got the impression your uncles knew everything.”

Christian smiled. “They’d like that. They think quite highly of themselves, too. But no, for a long time we believed all the sidhe-seers had died out. A few years ago, we discovered we’d been wrong. How many have you come across?”

“A few,” I hedged. He didn’t need to know. V’lane and Barrons knowing about the abbey was bad enough.

“Not the truth, but it’ll do. You can keep the numbers to yourself. Just tell me this: Are there enough to put up a fight if we need them to?”

I didn’t sugarcoat the sour fact. “Not with only two weapons. So, what’s this terrible idea of your uncles’?”

“A while back, they had a run-in with Barrons, and they’ve been toying with the idea since. They’re no longer toying. Uncle Cian says power is power, and we need all of it we can get.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of run-in? Where?”

“At a castle in Wales, a month and a half ago. They’d been chasing the same relics for some time, but never actually tried to rob the same place, on the same night.”

“Those were your uncles? The other thieves that were after the amulet, the night Malluc#233; took it?” The night V’lane had snatched me out, sifted me off to a beach in Faery!

“You know where the amulet is? Who is Malluc#233;? And they aren’t thieves. Some things shouldn’t be loose in the world.”

“Malluc#233; is dead and no longer matters. The Lord Master has it now.”

“Who’s the Lord Master?”

I was astonished. What did he know? Anything of use? “He’s the one who’s been bringing the Unseelie through, the one who’s been trying to tear the walls down!”

He looked blank. “He’s the one who’s been doing the magic against us?”

“Duh,” I said.

“Doona be ‘duh’ing me, lass,” he growled, his burr thickening.

“How can you know so many things, but none of the important ones? You’re the ones who are supposed to be protecting the walls!”

“Right, the walls,” he said. “And we’ve been doing it. To the best of our ability. With our own blood. Can’t try much harder than that, lass, unless you want us to revert to the archaic ways and sacrifice one of our own, an idea I just went home to explore, but was forced to conclude wouldn’t work. What about the sidhe-seers? Aren’t they supposed to be doing something, too?” He cast my accusation of slacking off on the job right back at me.

“Yes. As a matter of fact they were. They were supposed to be protecting the Book.” I distanced and acquitted myself.

His opened his mouth, closed it again, then exploded, “You’re the ones who had the Sinsar Dubh to begin with? We knew somebody was guarding it; we just didn’t know who. Och, for the love of Christ, lass, what did you do with it? Lose the bloody thing?”

I clarified my pronouns again. “They lost it. I’m not part of them.”

“You certainly look like a sidhe-seer to me.”

“Don’t be trying to blame me, Scotty,” I snapped. “Your uncles were supposed to be keeping the walls up. The sidheseers were supposed to be guarding the Book. The Fae were supposed to strip the LM’s memory before they dumped him on us, and I was supposed to be home with my sister playing volleyball on a beach somewhere. It’s not my fault. None of this is my fault. But for some idiotic reason, I seem to be able to do something about it. And I’m trying, so get off my back!”

We faced off, breathing fast and shallow, glaring at each other, two young people living in a world that was coming apart at the seams, doing their best to stop it, but realizing rapidly just how long the odds were. Tough times make for tough words, I guess.

“What’s your terrible idea?” I said finally, in an effort to get things back on track.

He inhaled and released it slowly. “My uncles want Barrons to help them hold the walls on Samhain. 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?”

I gave myself a mental smack in the forehead. I’d completely forgotten the reason I’d come here in the first place. I hastily recounted how Barrons had used Voice to interrogate me about my recent activities, and that visiting Christian had been one of them. I told him I’d been trying to reach him all day, to warn him, and when I hadn’t managed to get in touch with him by four, I’d come by to wait for him. When I finished, Christian was regarding me warily.

“You 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 handsome face 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 handed it to me. “Here’s where you can reach me.”

“Where are you going?”

“You 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?”

I gave him a hard look and stormed from the room. It was such a stupid question, and so far out of line, that I refused to dignify it with a response.

Halfway down the hall, I drew up short.

Dad’s told me all kinds of wise-sounding things over the years. I haven’t understood a lot, but I filed it all away because Jack Lane doesn’t waste breath, and I figured one day some of it might make sense. You can’t change an unpleasant reality if you won’t acknowledge it, Mac. You can only control what you’re willing to face. Truth hurts. But lies can kill. We’d been having a talk about my grades again. I’d told him I didn’t care if I ever graduated. It wasn’t the truth. The truth was I didn’t think I was very smart, and I had to work twice as hard as everyone else to get passing grades, so I’d spent most of high school pretending not to care.

I turned slowly.

He was leaning in the doorway, arms folded, looking young and hot and everything a girl could want. He arched a dark brow. What a gorgeous guy. He 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.

I headed back to the bookstore, flashlights on, watching everyone and everything. My brain was too stuffed with thoughts to be able to sort them out. I walked, and watched, hoping my gut would piece things together into a plan of action, and notify me when it was done.

I was passing the Stag’s Head pub when two things occurred: the black ice of a Hunter dusted me, and Inspector Jayne squealed to a stop in a blue Renault, flung open the passenger door, and barked, “Get in!”

I glanced up. The Hunter hovered, great black wings churning ice in the night air. It terrified me in my special sidheseer place. But I’d seen and done a lot since my last encounter with one of them, and I wasn’t the same anymore. Before it could speak in my mind, I sent it a message of my own: You’ll choke on my spear if you make one move toward me.

It laughed. With a whuf-whuf of leathery, midnight sails, it rose into the twilight and vanished.

I got in the car.

“Slump,” Jayne fired at me.

Raising both eyebrows, I slumped.

He drove to a brightly lit back parking lot of a church—I could see the steeple from where I crouched—pulled in between cars, and turned off the lights and engine. I sat up. The parking lot sure was packed for a Thursday night. “Is it some kind of religious day?”

“Stay down,” he barked. “I won’t be seen with you.”

I withdrew to the floorboards again.

He stared straight ahead. “The churches’ve been packed for weeks. The crime hike is scaring people.” He was silent a moment. “So, how bad is it? Should I get my family out?”

“I would, if it were my family,” I said frankly.

“Where should I take them?”

I didn’t know what the rest of the world out there was like in terms of Unseelie, but the Sinsar Dubh was here, an evil centrifuge, distilling people to their darkest essences. “As far from Dublin as you can.”

He continued staring straight ahead in silence, until I began to fidget impatiently. I was getting a cramp in my leg. There was something else he wanted. I wished he’d hurry up and get to it before my foot went to sleep.

Finally, he said, “That night, that you. you know. I went back to the station and. saw the people that I work with.”

“You saw that some of the Garda are Unseelie, “ I said.

He nodded. “Now I can’t see them anymore but I know who they are. And I tell myself you did something to me, somehow, and it was all a hallucination.” He rubbed his face. “Then I see the reports coming in, and I watch what they do, or rather don’t do, like investigate a bloody damn thing, and I. ”

When he trailed off, I waited.

“I think they killed O’Duffy to shut him up, and tried to make it look like a human did it. Two more Garda have been killed. They’d begun asking a lot of questions, and. ” He trailed off again.

The silence lengthened. Abruptly, he looked straight at me. His face was red, his eyes bright and hard. “I’d like to have tea with you again, Ms. Lane.”

I stared. That was the last thing I’d expected. Had I created an addict? “Why?” I said warily. Was he craving it like I was? Could he sense the tiny jars of wriggling flesh in my purse, yet to be deposited on the upper floors of the store? I could. I’d been feeling the dark pull of it beneath my arm all afternoon.

“I swore to uphold the peace in this city. And I will. But I can’t this way. I’m a sitting duck,” he said bitterly. “You were right, I didn’t know what was out there, but now I do. And I don’t sleep at night anymore, and I’m angry all the time, and I’m useless, and it’s more than my job to fight it, it’s who I am. It’s who Patty was, too, and that’s why he died. His death should mean something.”

“It could end up meaning your death,” I said softly.

“I’ll take that chance.”

He didn’t even know my “tea” would give him superpowers. He just wanted to be able to see them again. I could hardly blame him. I’d created this problem by feeding it to him in the first place. How would I feel in his shoes? I knew the answer to that: After an initial period of denial, exactly the same. Jayne wasn’t the ostrich I’d pegged him as, after all.

“If you betray yourself, they’ll kill you,” I warned.

“They might kill me anyway, and I won’t even see them coming.”

“Some of them are pretty horrific. They can startle you into betraying yourself.”

He gave me a tight smile. “Lady, you should see the crime scenes I’ve been on lately.”

“I need to think about it.” Eating Unseelie had many repercussions. I didn’t want to be responsible for what the good inspector might become.

“You’re the one who opened my eyes, Ms. Lane. You owe me. You get one more heads-up on the house, but after the next crime, it’s no tea, no tips.”

He dropped me a few blocks from the bookstore.

The interior lights of Barrons Books and Baubles were at the closed-for-business level when I let myself in, which was enough to keep Shades away but little more.

I moved to the counter, dropped my flashlights, and stripped off my jacket. There were some papers on it that hadn’t been there earlier. I riffled through them. They were receipts for a backup generator, a state-of-the-art security system, and a proposal for installation. The bill was astronomical. An appointment was noted for the work to begin the first week of November.

I 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.

I 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 and took the spear back. He thrust his hands in his pockets and regarded me coolly. I was deflated. Barrons wasn’t Unseelie. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how completely I’d made my case against him, and convicted him. It explained everything: his longevity, his strength, his knowledge of the Fae, why the Shades left him alone, why V’lane feared him, why the Lord Master had walked away—all of it made sense, if Barrons was an Unseelie. But he wasn’t. I’d just proved it. And now I had to go back to square one and start trying to figure out what he was all over again.

“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 it, and I wanted to keep 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 herself, the queen wove living strands of the Song of Making into the walls of the prison, which slams the magic of the Unseelie back at them. The stronger the Unseelie, the stronger the wall; by attempting to break free, they actually join forces with their gaoler.”

Cool trick. “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 mean it’s my problem.” He was looking bored again.

“This is the third action I want. I want you to make it your problem.”

“In what manner?”

“They think you can help them. Can you?”

He considered it. “Possibly.”

I 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 countered, “and I’ll get you within sight distance of the Sinsar Dubh.”

“I have your word?”

“You trust my word?”

“You’re an idealistic fool. Of course.”

“You have my word.” I’d deal with the problem of the promise I’d just made in the future. Right now, I needed to keep the walls up, and make sure the human race had a future.

“Then we have a deal. But your action doesn’t hinge on the outcome of mine. I will do my best to help them with their ritual, but I can’t assure you success. I know nothing of their abilities, and it’s magic I’ve not done before.”

I nodded. “I accept your condition. You’ll help them, and not harm them?”

“You trust my word?” he mocked.

“Of course not. You’re a cynical bastard. But they seem willing to.”

The faint smile was back. “I’ll help them and not harm them. Take a note, Ms. Lane: You undermine yourself as a negotiator when you permit your opponent to see emotion. Never betray emotion to an enemy.”

“Is that what you are?”

“It’s how you treat me. Be consistent and follow through on the finer nuances.” He turned away and moved toward the fire. “Who am I to assist and protect? The old witch herself?”

“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 lessons had begun.

I had a feeling they might be brutal tonight.