Nah, he’d duped her. Despite his assertions otherwise, he’d certainly used Voice on her. There was no other explanation for the way things had turned out.
“I want more than that, V’lane,” I said. “I want the whole human race to be safe.”
“Do you not believe your people would benefit from a reduction in numbers? Do you not read your own newspapers? You accuse the Fae of barbarism, yet humans are unparalleled in their viciousness.”
“I’m not here to argue for the world. That’s not in my job description. I’m just trying to save it.”
He was angry. So was I. We didn’t understand each other at all. His touch was gentle but his eyes were not when he pulled me into his embrace. He took his time with my tongue. I’m ashamed to say I leaned into it, lost myself in a Fae Prince’s kiss, and came four times when he gave me back his name.
“One for each of the princely houses.” With a mocking smile, he vanished.
The aftershocks were so intense it took me several moments to realize something was wrong. “Uh, V’lane,” I called to the air. “I think you forgot something.” Me. “Hello? I’m still in Punta Cana.”
I wondered if this was his way of forcing me to use his name again, so he could replace it again. My apologies, sidhe-seer, he’d say. I have many other concerns on my mind. My ass. If his mind was as vast as he constantly claimed it was, he wasn’t entitled to memory lapses.
My spear was back. People were staring at me. I guess it wasn’t every day they got to watch a bikini-clad, spear-toting woman talking to the sky. I took a good look around and stared myself, realizing it was probably my suit, not my spear, that was most out of place. I’d been so engrossed in my conversation with V’lane that I hadn’t noticed we were on a nude beach.
Two men walked by and I blushed. I couldn’t help it. They were my father’s age. They had penises. “Come on, V’lane,” I hissed. “Get me out of here!”
He let me stew for a few more minutes before returning me to the bookstore. In a gold lamé bikini, of course.
My life changed then, took on yet another routine.
I no longer had any desire to run the bookstore, or sit in front of a computer, or bury myself in stacks of research books. I felt like a terminal patient. My bid to gain the Sinsar Dubh had not only failed, it had forced me to admit that it was hopelessly beyond my reach at the present time.
There was nothing I could do but wait, and hope that others could do their part, and buy me more time to figure out how to do mine—if it was even possible. What had Alina known that I didn’t know? Where was her journal? How had she planned to get her hands on the Dark Book?
Seven days left. Six. Five. Four.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something going on out there, staring me straight in the face, that I was missing. I might have gotten pretty good at thinking outside my tiny little provincial box, but I suspected there was a much larger box that I needed to think outside of now, and to do that, I had to see the box.
Toward that end, I spent my days, armed to the hilt, collar turned up against the cold, walking the streets of Dublin, elbowing my way past tourists who continued to visit the city despite the gloom and the cold and the high crime rate.
Slipping between Unseelie horrors, I popped into a pub for a hot toddy, where I eavesdropped shamelessly on conversations, human and Fae alike. I stopped in a corner dive for fish and chips and chatted up the grill cook. I stood on the sidewalk and made small talk with one of the few remaining human newsstand vendors—coincidentally the same elderly gentleman who had given me directions to the Garda when I’d first arrived here—and who now confided in his lovely lilt that the headlines of the scandal rags were right; the Old Ones were returning. I toured the museums. I visited Trinity’s astounding library. I sampled beers at the Guinness brewery and stood up on the platform, staring out at the sea of roofs.
And I had a startling realization: I loved this city.
Even swimming as she was with monsters, deluged by crime, tainted by the violence of the Sinsar Dubh, I loved Dublin. Had Alina felt this way? Terrified of what might come, but more alive than she’d ever been?
And more alone.
The sidhe-seers weren’t returning my calls. Not even Dani. They’d chosen. Rowena had won. I knew they were afraid. I knew she and the abbey were all most of them had ever known, and that she would skillfully manipulate their fears. I wanted to storm over to PHI and fight. Call the old woman out; argue my case with the sidhe-seers. But I didn’t. There are some things you shouldn’t have to ask for. I’d given them their show of faith. I expected some in return.