Iced: A Dani O'Malley Novel (Fever Series)

by Karen Marie Moning

  “And how the feck are we going to get those? Why don’t we just try to lure it with iron and see what happens?”

  “That’s plan B. Let’s try to get samples first and I’ll keep analyzing this stuff. There’s something I’m missing. I can feel it in my gut. I need more time with the evidence. Besides, even if we got it to come, what would we do with it then? We need to know what draws it and how to stop it. You get the samples. I’ll work on the rest. If there’s no iron in Faery, we know we’re back at square one without having to round up tons of iron and find a place to stack it all up where nobody will get hurt.”

  I push up and head for the door.

  As I’m leaving, he says, “Don’t go to Faery yourself, Mega. Make a sifter do it for you. We can’t lose another month. I got a bad feeling about these iced places.”

  “ ’Cause they keep exploding?”

  He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “No. Like there’s something worse about them. A lot worse. I can’t explain. It’s just a hunch.”

  I know Dancer. When he gets a hunch, what that really means is his subconscious is seeing something he hasn’t wrapped his conscious brain around yet. Every time he’s ever told me he had a hunch, he’s worked his way around an epiphany. I trust him like I never trusted anybody. If he wants samples and more time, he’s got it.

  I head up and out into the Dublin night. A light snow is falling. The moon has a blood red ring.

  There’s one sure place to find a sifting Fae. Conveniently, it’s also the third place we need a sample from. With luck, I’ll be back here in a few hours with the final three ziplocks to complete our evidence chain.

  My luck ain’t been so good lately.

  THIRTY-THREE

  “Who’s your daddy?”

  Chester’s. Feckin-A, I hate this place even more than I used to. The line outside tonight is nuts. It’s zero degrees in Dublin, snow’s begun to fall in earnest, there’s a killer wind kicking up and still five blocks of folks are shivering outside, bundled in layers of clothing, huddled together waiting to get in.

  I blast past them in fast-mo, skidding on an icy spot, whiz around one of Ryodan’s human bouncers who’s got his hands too full controlling the crowd to stop me, jump the ladder down to the main entrance and explode through tall black doors into the club.

  It’s rocking tonight same as always: music thumping, lights flashing, folks partying up a storm. We got something icing our city, killing innocents everywhere, turning it into an arctic zone in June, and this is what folks are doing about it. Dancing, laughing, getting drunk, getting laid, acting like the walls didn’t fall, the world didn’t lose half the human race, and nothing’s changed.

  I stand on the platform inside the door that overlooks it all for a sec, scowling, blowing on my hands, trying to warm them up. I need gloves. And a scarf and earmuffs. The scowl doesn’t last long because I get distracted from being pissed by the song that’s playing. It’s one of my oldie faves from a few decades back, heavy on bass, and it’s so loud it vibrates the soles of my combat boots, all the way up my legs and into my belly. My bones rumble with resonance. I love music because it’s so fecking brilliant. Music is math, and math is the structure of everything and pretty much perfect. Before everything got so crazy, Dancer was teaching me stuff about math that dazzled me.

  My scowl comes back.

  Jo’s in the kiddie subclub, dressed all sexy, laughing at something some skanky waitress said, moving sleek and pretty with the music as she goes from table to table, chatting up the customers and occasionally looking around, like she’s keeping an eye on things in general, or watching for someone. She’s still got those highlights and sparkly boobs. I’ll be real glad when that stuff’s gone and she’s the Jo I know again.

  I’m going to make her quit tonight. We don’t owe a dead man anything, and if the other dudes think to try to enforce our contracts, well, we’re walking out anyway and they can just try.

  I groan and roll my eyes, realizing I can’t make her quit tonight because I can’t tell her he’s dead. I can’t tell nobody he’s dead. Only me, Christian, and whoever moved their bodies—assuming it wasn’t Christian—know they got killed. It’s only been three days. Folks might not decide he’s dead for a while yet. Knowing her, she’ll stick around for weeks, hoping he comes back!

  I feel a little perturbed. I been gone almost a month and she doesn’t look sad at all. Didn’t she miss me? Worry about me?

  I shove that thought away and look up at the ceiling, eyeing the girders, wondering what kind of metal was used in the construction of Chester’s. If this place is as old as it seems, I’d think it’d have to be iron because I don’t think the method of making steel was figured out till recent times. Well, recent in terms of how old this place is. Then I wonder how old iron is. Then I wonder if Ryodan and his dudes just spelled the whole mess together. Or maybe they created their own kind of metal or brought it with them from whatever planet they were born on.

  I wonder who’s in charge now that I killed Barrons and Ryodan. Lor?

  As if my thoughts conjured him, I hear him say behind me, real close to my ear: “Aw, honey, you got some nerve coming here.”

  I turn around to say suspiciously, “What do you mean by that?” but he’s not there by the time I complete my rotation. I wonder if I imagined him, a product of my guilty conscience. Then I decide if I really did hear him say what I thought he said, he was only referring to how Ryodan’s been looking for me for a month and now I waltz in like I never been gone, and he thinks Ryodan’s going to toast my ass for missing work so long. Because, like, he doesn’t know Ryodan’s dead either.

  This is exactly why I hate lies. The second you tell one, you know something everybody else doesn’t know and you have to constantly keep reminding yourself to behave like you don’t know it, so they don’t decide you’re acting weird and figure out you know something they don’t. If they do, they’ll back you against a wall and demand to know why you’re acting weird and you’ll say something stupid and they’ll use it to trip you up with. Then everything comes spilling out and you’re in ten kinds of trouble! It’s so much easier not to tell any lies to begin with.

  This is going to be a tough pretending gig. Reminders of Ryodan are everywhere in here. Heck, Ryodan is Chester’s! It’s, hands-down, the hardest place to pretend he’s not dead that I could possibly be. But I need those samples. The HFK is icing something practically every day, and Dancer thinks things are going to get worse.

  I spot a sifter down in the Tuxedo Club and grin. The Gray Bitch. This is one I’m going to love laying the flat of my sword against and ordering around. Mac promised not to hunt her but I never took no such stupid oath, and besides, I’m not hunting her, I’m just going to threaten her into doing something for me. Hand hovering over the hilt of my sword, I map out the grid as best I can, considering most things on it are moving—not that I mind jabbing all these idiots with my elbows—and freeze-frame down the stairs. At the last minute I detour from the Tuxedo Club and head for Jo. I want to see her face when she sees me. See how glad she gets to know I’m alive. She must have been as worried about me as Dancer and it’s only right to put her mind at ease.

  “Dani! What are you doing here?” Jo goes white as a sheet when I whiz to a stop in front of her. “Are you crazy?”

  Not the reaction I expected. Where’s the look of relief, the big hug, the excitement to see me alive and back here again? “What are you talking about?”

  “Ryodan’s been looking for you for a month! You broke your contract with him!”

  “And according to that,” I say irritably, “you should be dead. But you’re not. Fact is, you look pretty darn good to me. Guess boinking him kept you alive, huh? You been doing it all this time? Didn’t he get tired of you?”

  She flushes. “He said it wasn’t fair to take out his displeasure at you on me. Ryodan’s a smart man. He makes good decisions. He’s not impulsive like some people.” She gives me a pointed
stare.

  I’m disgusted. “Oh, he was just a … uh, is a fecking saint, now, huh?”

  “He’s a fine man. You should give him a chance.”

  “He’s a dead man, is what he is!” I blurt, because I can’t fecking stand to hear her defending him.

  “Would you quit making threats about him every time you turn around? It’s getting old.” She lowers her voice. “You need to get out of here before he catches you. I’ve never seen him like he’s been since he hasn’t been able to find you.”

  “I ain’t scared of Ryodan.” Gah, I wish I could just tell her!

  “You should be. You pushed him too far this time, Dani. I don’t know what he’s going to do when he sees you, and I’m not sure I can stop him. I don’t think he’ll listen to even me about you.”

  He’s never going to find out because he’s dead, but that’s not what I fixate on. “What do you mean ‘even you,’ like you’re some kind of special to him?”

  She blushes and gets this soft-eyed look on her face like a sap in love. “We’re a couple, Dani. It’s been over a month and we’re exclusive. All the waitresses are talking about it. They never thought anybody would … you know, get a man like him to settle down.”

  I just stare at her, blinking. Ryodan ain’t exclusive with nobody. Settle down? Tornados touch down. They don’t settle. They leave destruction in their wake. Not shiny, happy people. I feel sick inside, at the idea of him and Jo setting up house together, making plans for the future. As fecking if. What am I going to be? Their little fetch-it dog? I shake my head, reminding myself again that Ryodan’s dead. How does she keep getting me all distracted? Talking like he’s alive is confusing me.

  “I ain’t talking to you anymore. I got things to do. Maybe you noticed Dublin is turning into the North Pole?”

  “Of course I have. You’re the one that took off for a month and didn’t tell anyone that you were going to Faery with Christian.”

  “Huh?” I gape at her. “How’d you know that?”

  “Christian told me.”

  “Scary-Unseelie-prince-Christian dropped in and told you I was okay?”

  “I don’t know why he came, but he overheard me talking with Cormac yesterday in the Tux Club about how worried I was about you and he said the two of you had just gotten back and you were fine. I’m not going to breathe a word to Ryodan even though we tell each other everything. But I don’t appreciate you putting me in a position where I have to lie to him. Now get out of here before he comes down! Things are calm tonight. I’d like them to stay that way.”

  Tell each other everything? She’s wrong on all counts. Ryodan was the most keep-it-to-yourself dude I ever met. Things aren’t calm in here; as usual they’re a catastrophe waiting to happen. And he ain’t ever coming down again.

  So I’m walking away from Jo, heading toward the Tuxedo Club to commandeer the Gray Bitch’s services, when somebody crashes into me from behind so hard I go flying into one of the fluted columns at the exit of the kiddie subclub. I end up hugging it, to keep myself from puddling to the floor. I hit it so hard I’m going to have another black eye and the whole left side of my face is already working itself into the mother of all contusions. I think: Who the feck would dare attack me when I’m carrying so blatantly? Mac? ’Cause she hates me so much it made her stupid? I didn’t hide my sword when I came in. I peeled my leather coat back so everybody could see it’s mine again!

  I stumble away from the column and am about to turn when I get slammed into it again. This time I swear I see stars and hear cuckoo birds whistling. My hand falls off the hilt of my sword, I’m so dazed. I hear Jo yelling behind me. “Stop it! Don’t hurt her! Stop it!”

  I get slammed again as soon as I start to move. This time I bust my lip against the column. It pisses me off so bad that I shift up into fast-mo, grab my sword and yank it out. If it’s Mac, I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to run. But she’s really got to stop pushing me around in front of the whole fecking club. I got a reputation to consider.

  It’s gone from my hand before I even can turn around. I get slammed again and I bite the fecking column a fourth time.

  “You move one more time, I’ll rip your fucking heart out.”

  I go still as the slayed Unseelie chunks at the iced scenes. That was not Ryodan that just spoke behind me because he, like, got gutted and died. Apparently I’m having hallucinations. Either that or a ghost is haunting me. It would figure the dude would come back from the dead just to make my life miserable. He was such a pro at it when he was alive.

  I’m crushed so tight between the column and whatever’s behind me I almost can’t breathe.

  “You can’t be here,” I say. “You’re dead.”

  He slams me into the column again and I make an involuntary squeak.

  “I first learned of your existence when you were nine years old,” he says. “Fade told me he’d seen a human child on the streets that could move like us. He advocated, as did the rest of my men, killing you immediately. I have rarely found it necessary to kill human infants. They don’t live long anyway.”

  That sure sounds like Ryodan. Cold. Void of inflection. Maybe Ryodan had a twin brother I knew nothing about. If not, I’ve gone completely nuts and being tormented by a guilty conscience in a weird and incredibly real way. He died. I watched it happen. There was no mistaking it. I try to move my hand, thinking to wipe blood from my face. He crushes it in his fist so hard my bones grind together.

  “I said don’t fucking move. Not a hair on your head. Got it.”

  Another Ryodan characteristic. No question mark. I hate being cued so I don’t say anything. A bone snaps in my little finger. Gently. Precisely. Like he’s showing me he could break them all, one at a time, if he felt like it. I grit my teeth. “Got it.”

  “When you were ten, Kasteo told me you’d somehow gotten the sword. Again my men advocated I take it and kill you. Again, I felt the mewling pup would die soon enough.”

  “I’m not a pup and I don’t mewl. Ow! You said don’t move. I didn’t. I spoke!”

  “Don’t. And you will mewl before the night is over. In a moment I’m going to step back and let you go. You will turn around and follow me, walking behind me. You will not speak to anyone. You will not look at anyone. If anyone but me speaks to you, you will not answer. You will not move any part of your body that is not absolutely necessary to get you up the stairs and into my office. If you deviate from my orders in any way, I will break your left leg in front of the entire club. If you piss me off while I’m doing it, I will break your right leg. Then I’ll carry you up the stairs I’m currently giving you the choice to walk up and break both your arms. I trust I’ve made myself clear. Answer me.”

  “Clear as the floor of your office.” He can’t be alive. I watched the Hag scrape his guts out and sew them up into her dress. Surely he wouldn’t really break all my arms and legs. Would he?

  The presence behind my back is gone and I’m floored for a second by how cold I am. I hadn’t realized how much heat he was throwing off until he was gone.

  There’s no way he’s alive. It can’t be Ryodan behind me. Is Barrons alive, then, too? How could they be? I know they’re tough to kill and all but folks don’t survive being gutted! Where did they get new guts from? Did somebody take them back from the Hag and sew them both up again? Will he look like Frankenstein’s monster?

  I don’t want to turn around. I don’t like any of the possibilities confronting me. If it’s not Ryodan, I’ve gone nuts. If it is Ryodan, dude, I’m dead.

  “Turn around, kid.”

  I can’t make my feet move. I can’t wrap my brain around that he’s standing behind me. I’m shaking like a leaf. Me! What the feck is wrong with me? I’m tougher than tough! I ain’t scared of nothing.

  “Now.”

  I take a deep breath and turn around. I absorb his face, his body, the way he stands, the look in his eyes, the arrogant, faint smile.

  It’s either Ryodan or a perf
ect clone.

  I do something I can’t believe I do. I hate hormones, I hate Chester’s, and I bloody fecking hate Ryodan. I’m never going to be able to live this down!

  I burst into tears.

  Ryodan turns and stalks off for the stairs.

  I trail miserably behind him. The whole fecking club is watching Dani Mega O’Malley cry and walk behind Ryodan without saying a word, like a dog brought to heel. I can’t fecking believe it. I hate my life. I hate myself. I hate my stupid face. I want to snap, “He broke my ribs and I’m crying from the pain of one them puncturing my lung but I’m tough and I’ll kick his ass and be okay and then I’ll kick all of your asses, too!” to save face, but I’m pretty sure if I say a word he really will break my leg. I wipe angrily at my eyes. My stupid, pansy, betraying eyes with their stupid, pansy, betraying tear ducts.

  The whole club has gone silent. Folks and Fae part a wide path to let us walk through. I’ve never taken a long walk of shame before and it chafes real bad. Jo’s standing there, white-faced, looking from me to Ryodan’s back, and back at me again. She might be his flavor of the month but I can tell by the look on her face that she’s afraid of pushing him. She mouths, Apologize! Bend. Or he’ll break you!

  Over my dead body. The Mega doesn’t bend. I pass Lor at the bottom of the steps to the upper level. I turn my face away because I can’t stand him to see me being such a baby. He leans in close and says soft-like against my ear, “Honey, you might just have saved your life with those tears. I thought you had too much ego and too little common sense to know when to turn on the waterworks. He can’t stand a woman crying. It fucks him up every time.”

  I look at him. He winks at me.

  I flash fire at him with my eyes because I ain’t allowed to use my tongue. They say: I ain’t a woman and I ain’t crying and I ain’t afraid of nothing.