“You do realize if you eat it again, you won’t be able to sense the one thing we need?”
“I’ve got it under control, Barrons.” I hadn’t even looked at the jars since lunch.
“One never has an addiction under control. If you eat it again, I will personally kick your ass. Got it?”
“If I eat it again, you can try to personally kick my ass.” Being able to hold my own with Barrons had been one of the many upsides to eating Unseelie. I often craved it for that reason alone.
“I’ll wait till it wears off,” he growled.
“What fun would that be?” I would never forget the night we’d fought, the unexpected lust.
We looked at each other and for a moment those clouds of distrust lifted and I saw his thoughts in his eyes.
You were something to see, he didn’t say.
You were something to feel, I didn’t reply.
His gaze shuttered.
I looked away.
We walked briskly down the sidewalk. Abruptly, he grabbed my arm and detoured me down a side alley. Two dark Fae were doing something near a trash can. I really didn’t want to know what.
“Let’s see how good your fighting skills are, Ms. Lane, when you’re not pumped up on Unseelie steroids.”
But before I could lose myself in the bliss of killing a few of the bastards, my cell phone rang.
It was Inspector Jayne.
THIRTEEN
The next few days settled into a strange routine, and sped by with me mostly in a daze.
Barrons came each night and taught me Voice. And each night, unable to find my backbone, I came away with fresh wounds.
Then we hunted the Sinsar Dubh.
Or rather he hunted the Sinsar Dubh, and I continued taking great pains to avoid it, as I had the other night when Jayne had called to tip me off, steering Barrons in the opposite direction, keeping us far enough away that I wouldn’t betray subtle signs of its proximity, like flailing in a puddle, clutching my head, or foaming at the mouth.
At some point, each day, V’lane appeared to question me about the fruits of my labors. I made sure I had no fruits. He began bringing me gifts. One day he brought me chocolate that wouldn’t make me gain weight, no matter how much I ate. Another day he brought me dusky, spicy-smelling flowers from Faery that would bloom immortally. After he left, I threw them both out. Chocolate should make you fat and flowers should die. Those were things you could count on. I needed things to count on.
When I wasn’t busy being yo-yoed back and forth between the two of them, I tended the bookstore, badgered Kat and Dani for information, and continued pushing my way through stacks of books about the Fae, having exhausted my Internet search for anything of use. There was so much role-playing and fanfic online that it was impossible to distinguish fact from fiction.
I was getting nowhere, a car spinning its tires in the mud, all too aware that, even if I got out of the mud, I didn’t know where to go.
The tension and indecision in my life became unbearable. I was edgy, and snapped at everyone, including my dad when he called to tell me Mom finally seemed to be getting better. They were decreasing her Valium, and increasing her antidepressants. She’d cooked breakfast Sunday: cheese grits (how I missed those!), pork chops, and eggs. She’d even made fresh yeast bread. I pondered that breakfast after I hung up. Tried to place it somewhere in my life, while I munched a power bar.
Home was a gazillion miles away.
Halloween was ten days away.
Soon, the sidhe-seers would be doing their thing at the abbey. Barrons and the MacKeltars would be doing theirs, in Scotland. I hadn’t yet decided where I would be. Barrons had asked me to accompany him, no doubt to OOP-detect the MacKeltar estate while we were there. I was considering crashing the abbey. I wanted to be somewhere, doing my part, whatever that might be, even if my part was only keeping Barrons and the MacKeltars from killing each other. Christian had phoned yesterday to tell me things were moving ahead, but if they survived the ritual, they might not survive each other.
Come All Hallows’ Eve, the walls would stand or fall.
Weirdly, I’d begun looking forward to Halloween, because at least my waiting would be over. Limbo would end. I’d know what I had to deal with. I’d know exactly how good or bad things were going to be. I’d know if I could be relieved—a year would buy me plenty of time to figure out what to do—or if I should be terrified. Either way, I’d have concretes.
I had no concretes where the Book (beast!) was concerned. I didn’t know how to get it or what to do with it.
I had no concretes where Barrons or V’lane were concerned. I didn’t trust either of them.