“Sit.”
I drop down in a chair behind an enormous slab table that faces the map. There are nine chairs at the table. I wonder how long this room has been here, how many centuries these dudes who don’t seem to be able to die have sat in this room and plotted things. I wonder what kind of things guys like them plot. Coups? Economic catastrophes? World wars?
“So, Barrons is alive, too,” I fish.
“Yes.”
“Dude, what the feck? I don’t know what your superpower is, but I want whatever you’ve got.”
“You think.”
“I know.”
“You don’t even know what it is. Yet you’d take it sight unseen.”
“To, like, never die? Fecking-A I would!”
“And if there’s a price.”
“Dude, we’re talking immortality. There ain’t no price too high!”
He gives me a faint smile. “Ask me again when you’re older.”
“Huh?” I say. “Really? When I’m older I can have whatever you got? Like, how much older? Fifteen?”
“I didn’t say you could have it. I said you could ask me. And no, not fifteen.”
“Dude, give me a little hope here.”
“I just did.”
He taps something in on a remote device and all the sudden I’m not looking at Dublin on the grid anymore. He’s zoomed out and I’m seeing a map of surrounding countries. There are dots pegged in England, Scotland, France, Germany, Spain, Poland, Romania, and Greece. He zooms out farther and I see two in Morocco and one in Norway.
I let out a low whistle, horrified. Dancer and me were only seeing the little picture. “There’s more than one Ice Monster.”
“Not necessarily. I think if there was more than one, we’d be hearing reports of it all over the world and we’re not. So far, it’s confined to this region.”
“I need samples from Faery and the first place it iced in Chester’s.”
“Elaborate.”
“Dancer and me went through all the evidence. There’s iron in every bag and—”
“No.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“I don’t have to. Iron has nothing to do with it.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because there’s not a single drop of iron anywhere in or near Chester’s.”
“Well, what the feck is this place built from?”
“Irrelevant. Besides,” he says, “if it was after iron, it would have taken the cages at Dublin Castle and it didn’t. It iced the place and vanished. We’ve been studying the map and scenes for weeks. There’s no pattern, no commonality. I put my best man on it, a linchpin pro. He can’t find a tipping point, sees no order in this chaos.”
“Who’s your linchpin pro?” I want to talk to him. I’m fascinated by linchpin theory. If you know where to make the dominoes start toppling, you own the dominoes! Of course, Ryodan doesn’t answer that question either so I tell him Dancer’s theory about salt water and whales and that maybe it’s drawn by something because it’s looking for something else.
“Possible. But not iron.”
“You dudes been hosting fairies for, like, millennia, haven’t you? That’s the only reason for a place like this having no iron!”
“There are other things that don’t like iron. Not just Fae. A smart person might find a lot of things missing in Chester’s.” A faint smile plays at his lips, and I almost get the idea he’s challenging me to figure something out.
“Dude, if I’m stuck here long enough, I will.” I gesture at the map. “Show me Dublin again.” When he resets the map, I say, “I need the remote.”
He punches numbers in on it, no doubt locking systems off from me, then hands it over.
“Let me stare at the map a while.”
When he leaves, he locks me in.
I’m still staring hours later, no closer to an epiphany, when I start smelling the most fecking awesome smell in the world. I try to concentrate on the map but I can’t. I shove a candy bar in my mouth. It tastes like Styrofoam. I haven’t smelled fresh-cooked beef in longer than I can remember. I never got it at the abbey! Somewhere in Chester’s, some spoiled person is feasting. My mouth fills with saliva. I slide down in my chair, drop my head back and inhale real deep and slow, making lip-smacking noises, pretending I’m the lucky recipient. I smell all kinds of spices! I think whatever the meat is, it’s accompanied by mashed potatoes and some kind of greens. I smell garlic, salt and pepper, butter! I smell onion and oregano and rosemary! It’s almost enough to make me cry, thinking about that kind of food. I’m beyond sick of candy bars and protein bars and canned stuff. I’m so home-cooked-meal starved that not even my chocolate Pop-Tarts hit the spot like they used to.