by Melissa Marr
In a blur of feather and limbs, she kicked and punched and stabbed several guards. She stopped then, as suddenly as she’d begun to move. Most of the guards were coming to their feet; some were battered but still standing. One wasn’t moving.
Bananach looked at the sky. “It grows late, and I have others to see. My king will expect me to come soon.”
And with that, the war faery left them in the park reeling in disorder and panic.
Keenan. Niall. Donia. Where was she going? War. Aislinn didn’t want war. The idea terrified her. Too many reminders of death and what I have to lose. She thought of Grams and Seth and her mortal friends. Grams was under constant watch; so too was Seth. She’d lose them eventually. Mortals died—but not now, not soon. She’d barely begun to discover the beauty that the earth could offer now that the long years of endless winter were past. This was her world. It was a world that should teem with life and possibilities, even if those possibilities were sometimes finite.
She was in love; she was loved; and she was part of something incredible. Many mortals and faeries were. All of that would be destroyed if there was a war. With no worry over the consequences of angering other courts, with no restraints, with rulers and guards too busy to respond to small indiscretions…aside from the reclusive High Court, the mortal and faery worlds would be dealing with two—or possibly three—Faerie courts in opposition, as well as solitaries who’d no doubt take advantage of the chaos. Aislinn felt sick thinking of it—and desperate to talk to Seth.
She needed to hear his voice; she needed to hear him tell her he forgave her. They’d had a lot against them, but they could work past it. They had so far. He was the cord that kept her together. His faith gave her strength when she thought she couldn’t bear up under a challenge; that was the core of what made him irreplaceable. The passion and the romance were incredible, but the center of it was that he made her want to be a better person. He made her believe she could do the impossible. She could, with him in her life. They’d only been officially together a few months, but she knew he was the only one she’d ever love like this. He was it, her forever.
She called him again—and still had no answer. She left another voice mail, “Call me. Please? I love you.”
With a glance around the park, she found the rowans on duty, saw them collecting their faeries and steering them toward the loft. They were efficient even in their injured state.
She called Keenan and said, “I met Bananach…. We are mostly uninjured, but I need you to come home. Now.”
Chapter 18
With effort, Seth ignored both Aislinn’s and Niall’s calls all day. Niall had stopped in. They’d shared a tense cup of tea that ended when Seth asked, “Where does Sorcha live?”
Niall set down his cup. “She’s unreachable to mortals. Hidden.”
“Right, I’ve heard that. Where?” Seth kept his voice fairly steady, but he knew that his irritation was obvious to Niall. “Just take me to her.”
“No.”
“Niall—”
“No.” The Dark King shook his head, stood, and left.
Seth stared at the door in irritation. Aislinn wouldn’t help if she knew; Keenan wouldn’t help. Niall wouldn’t even discuss it. That left Donia or research.
He flicked open his cell and pressed number six. One of the Scrimshaw Sisters answered the Winter Queen’s phone. “Mortal?”
Seth shivered at the husk-dry voice. “Can I speak to Donia?” he asked.
“Not tonight.”
He closed his eyes. “When?”
“She’s busy. I’ll take your message.”
“Ask her to call me?” He began collecting his folklore books—including volumes he’d acquired from Donia and Niall. “Whenever she can?”
“The message will be conveyed,” the Scrimshaw Sister rasped. “Good-bye, mortal.”
Seth grabbed a legal pad from his bin of miscellaneous things and sat down in the middle of the stacks of books. “Research, it is.”
When the phone rang several hours later, Seth scrambled for it, hoping it was Donia. It wasn’t. But he hoped, against logic, that it might be help when he saw Niall’s number.
Instead, the Dark King reiterated, “It’s a mistake.”
“It’s not.” Seth hung up on him. He didn’t want to hear what anyone else thought. He didn’t want to hear Aislinn’s explanation that it wasn’t possible or Niall’s guilt-heavy objections. He knew what he wanted: he wanted to be a faery, to have eternity with Aislinn, to be strong enough to be safe in the world where he now lived. Being human wasn’t cutting it. He didn’t want to be weak or finite or easily overwhelmed. He wanted to be more. He wanted to be her equal again.
He just needed to figure out how to find Sorcha and then convince the High Queen to help him.
No problem. Seth scowled. He could just imagine she’d be willing to pass that gift out without hesitation. Sure, I’ll give you eternity, little mortal.
He looked at the books he’d searched and found useless. He looked at the few notes he’d made. Reclusive. Logical. Does not mingle with the other courts. Devlin. It wasn’t helpful.
His careful control of his temper slid away. He stood and swept everything from the counter. It was a satisfying clatter.
Better than meditating.
He was in love, healthy, had plenty of money, a friend who was like a brother…but because he was mortal, he could lose it all. Without her, he’d have to sever ties with all faeries. There would be no more riverside concerts. There would be no more magic. He’d still have the Sight: he’d see everything that he couldn’t actually have. Losing Aislinn meant losing everything.
If she left him, it didn’t matter if he was healthy. And if she didn’t leave him, he wasn’t strong enough to be in her life and be safe. And even if he was strong enough, he’d grow old and die and she’d move on.
The books were all over the room. None of them had answers.
Everything is wrong.
He walked into the kitchen.
It’s useless.
Every dish he owned, except the two teacups and the teapot Aislinn had bought him, went smashing into the wall. Then, he punched the wall until his knuckles were bloodied. It didn’t help, but it felt a helluva lot more satisfying than anything else he could think to do just then.
Come evening, Seth had cleaned away the evidence of his loss of temper. He’d reordered the house and his feelings. Being without her wasn’t something he wanted to even consider. There had to be an answer—but he didn’t have one.
He’d find it, though. He wasn’t going to lose everything.
Not now. Not ever.
He sent Aislinn a text—“need space. ttyl”—and then paced around the house. Its size didn’t usually bother him, but today it felt constricting. He didn’t want to go out, to see faeries and pretend all was well. He knew what he didn’t want, what he did want—everything but how to make it happen. Until he came up with some sort of a plan, being around faeries—seeing what he wasn’t—felt like cruelty.
So when one of the court guards knocked on the door to ask if Seth was staying in or going out, Seth said, “Go home, Skelley.”
“You sure you don’t want to go grab a drink? Or we could come inside…not for long, but in shifts…”
“Space, man. That’s what I need tonight,” Seth said.
Skelley nodded. He stood there for a moment longer, though. “The girls didn’t mean harm. They just”—he paused as if the words he needed weren’t quite familiar—“are fond of you. It’s like your serpent.”
“Like Boomer?”
“He makes you happy by his presence?”
“Yeah.” Seth cracked a grin at that. “Boomer being here makes me happy.”
“You make the girls happy with your presence.” Skelley looked so earnest that it was hard to find him anything but kind as he stood in the iron-heavy railroad yard, even though he likened Seth to a pet snake. “They were worried you’d go away like Niall did.”<
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Seth wasn’t sure if he should feel comforted that Skelley was trying to soothe him or insulted that he was being compared to a pet boa constrictor.
Or both.
Mostly, he was amused. Carefully keeping his amusement from his face, he gave Skelley a nod. “That is…interesting to know.”
The exceptionally thin guard had a gentle streak. Most of the guards wouldn’t come to the door talking about feelings. Skelley was an anomaly. “You are liked in the court,” he added. “Our queen is happy by your being with her.”
“I know that.” Seth lifted a hand in a wave at the other guards at the edge of the yard. “But right now, I need to crash. Go relax or whatever.”
“We’ll be here.”
“I know.” Seth closed the door.
A few restless hours later, he’d tried to sleep. It didn’t work: he was too keyed up. He tried to burn energy: push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups on the bar in the walkway. It was futile. I need air.
He looked at his clock: just past midnight. The Crow’s Nest was still open. In a matter of minutes he was dressed and lacing his boots. His cell buzzed as another text came in. He looked at it: “CYT?”
Am I ready to see her tomorrow?
Usually, it wasn’t a question. He didn’t think it had ever been a question. Would she know about the park? Would she ask about Niall? Would she want to talk about Keenan?
He wasn’t sure he’d be ready to deal with any of that. He wanted a plan, a way to reach Sorcha, a way to make things better; talking to Aislinn about everything that wasn’t right didn’t feel like the best answer. He didn’t respond to her message. He wanted to; he wanted to call her right then. Instead, he laid the phone down on the counter.
If I don’t have it, I can’t call or answer.
Resolved, he walked toward the Crow’s Nest. He saw three guards following him, but he refused to acknowledge them. The knowledge that he was babysat so incessantly was more than he could handle just then.
One guard came inside the Crow’s Nest, found it free of faeries, and left. Seth knew that they watched both doors. That was the closest to distance he’d be getting.
It’s not enough.
After almost an hour sitting by himself, Seth admitted that he was sulking. He hadn’t really been thinking about a plan. He’d seen friends, people who didn’t come around as much since he and Aislinn had started dating, but he didn’t talk to them.
Damali was there again, not singing, but just hanging out. He caught her eye and smiled, and she came over with two beers, hers mostly empty already. “You free now?”
He shook his head. “Just for conversation, D.”
“Damn.” She whistled. “I thought they were screwing with me. The scrawny chick or the surly guy?”
Seth took the beer she held out. “She’s not scrawny.”
Damali laughed. “Whatever. She treat you right?”
Does she? He took a drink and avoided the question. “You sounded good the other night.”
The look Damali gave him wasn’t judgmental or pitying. It was very…human. “That wasn’t even close to a subtle dodge. You need anything?”
“Just company.” Seth had known Damali long enough that he didn’t need to pretend. “Things are weird, and I needed air tonight.”
She gave him an assessing gaze. “That is why I don’t do the relationship thing. You used to get it. No getting caught in someone’s strings. No regrets. We had fun when you weren’t like this.”
“I’m happy being tangled up this time, D.”
“Yeah. You look like it.” She drained her bottle. “Want another?”
When he left a few beers later—without Damali—Seth wasn’t in any better spirits. If anything, he felt worse. All the down and none of the buzz. Drinking didn’t help. It never had.
As he walked, he wondered if he was about to go from worse to really awful. The guards he’d been so eager to leave behind were gone—but not at his request. The raven-faery who’d attacked Niall was following Seth instead, and she wasn’t pretending to be stealthy. She walked close enough behind him that he could hear her singing battle hymns to herself.
He knew she should frighten him, and on some visceral level, he was afraid. He didn’t have guards or his cell phone. No sense worrying about what I can’t change. He stepped into the railyard. The tracks and abandoned cars were the ideal security for a mortal dealing with Faerie. His home sat on a small lot at the edge of the railyard. Most faeries stopped at the railroad tracks; this one didn’t. She followed him almost to his door. A few yards from the house were wooden chairs he kept in his garden.
He pulled out his key and turned to look at the raven-headed faery.
She sat down in one of the chairs. “Sit outside with me, Mortal?”
“I’m not sure that would be wise.” Seth unlocked the door, but he didn’t go inside.
She tilted her head far to the side to peer at him. It was a very inhuman gesture. “Perhaps it could be.”
“Perhaps.” He stayed on his stairs, just outside the now open door. He’d only need to take one step to be inside. Would it matter? After how fast he’d seen her move when she attacked Niall, Seth was near certain that he couldn’t move inside before she reached him—and that she was strong enough to come in anyhow. He considered his options: there weren’t any. If Niall himself had struggled with her, a mortal stood no chance.
“Somehow I doubt that having anything to do with you is wise,” he said.
The faery crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. “I like doubts.”
And this is why I have guards. But Seth remembered her fighting with Niall, and he suspected that even if the Summer Court guards were there, they couldn’t save him if she meant to do him harm. He wondered if she’d killed them—and would him.
“Does your king know you’re here?” he asked.
She cackled, a sound that should come from a raven’s beak. “Bold child. I’m sure he will…eventually. But he is never soon enough to change my paths.”
Seth’s fear spiked, and he went inside the house. “He’s offered me your court’s protection. I’ve accepted.”
“Of course. He has a fondness for you, doesn’t he? The new Dark King has always liked his mortal pets, not so bad as the last king…” She moved toward him with an exaggeratedly slow stride like a film reel advancing one frame at a time.
Seth wished he had his phone in hand. Niall couldn’t get there fast enough, but he’d know that it was this faery who’d—what? killed me? Seth looked inside: he could see his phone. He took another step backward into the train.
“Well, we shan’t tell him our business.” The faery shook her head like a disapproving parent. “He’d only tell you no if he knew.”
He took another step backward. “Tell me no to what?”
She paused mid-step. “Seeing her Royal Tediousness. That’s what you want, isn’t it? But they’ll all tell you no.” She sighed, but it wasn’t a sorrowful sound. It was longing, and Seth didn’t want to know what she was longing for. “Naughty boy trying to talk to the Queen of Reason. She knows of you. Sent her dirty hands to see you. Faerie’s all a-titter over the roaming mortal.”
At that, Seth stopped as well. “Are you trying to help me?”
The raven-faery resumed pursuing him. She stood only a couple arms’ lengths away now; she continued to move with calculated slowness. “But they stand in our way. How can you follow your dreams if they keep you on a leash? Telling you no. They’re like that. Taking away choices. Treating us like children.”
She was in front of him then. Up close, he could see that the feather-hair falling down her back was singed in places. Shadowy wings blinked in and out of existence. Ashes had dried into patterns on her arms and cheeks. She looked like she’d come to his yard fresh from a battleground.
“Who are you?” Seth asked.
“You may call me Bananach.”
He took another step and picked up his phone. “Why are you here?�
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“To take you to Sorcha.” She nodded as she spoke.
“Why?” He didn’t look at the phone as he slid his thumb to the key that would ring Niall’s cell.
“Don’t. I’m not going to bleed you unless you make it necessary. Doing that would make it necessary.” The madness in her words and expression had suddenly gone, and she was all the more frightening for it. She gave him a serious look. “We all have dreams, Seth Morgan. For the moment, yours and mine line up. Consider yourself fortunate that your use to me does not require me to injure you today.”
Then she stepped past him into his home.
Seth paused, finger still resting on the key that would call Niall. “You’re offering to take me to Sorcha?”
“You seek her. Niall won’t help you. The ash-queen won’t give you what you want. Winter will refuse you…. Reason can help if she deigns to do so. Your changing will help me. I’ve been whispering words to get us here, Seth. Telling secrets to Winter.” She stopped and cooed at Boomer. The boa was resting atop one of his heated rocks. She didn’t look his way as she said, “Gather your traveling things.”
He knew enough by now to realize that she spoke the truth as she saw it.
And as I see it.
The things Bananach said were true: neither Aislinn nor Niall was willing to help him in his pursuit of being a faery. The High Queen could make it happen.
Bananach stood making kissy noises at Boomer—who was undulating in a way Seth had never seen. Then she glanced back at him. “Ask your question. The window is short.”
Seth held Bananach’s gaze and asked, “You’ll take me directly to Sorcha and not harm me?”
She corrected, “I will deliver you unharmed to Sorcha. You must be more specific in your words if you’re to do me any good. Suppose I’d had someone else harm you as we travel? Precision is the key to strategy. You have the boldness, but not the precision. I need you to be both brave and calculating.” Her gaze was assessing. “You’ll do. The ravens tell me that, but you must listen well to Sorcha’s wisdom. Tedious she is, but Reason will aid you in what we need.”
