She paused across the street and looked at Rae. The smile she gave Rae was familiar, an unpleasant match to Devlin’s. Devlin’s other sister. Bananach.
“There you are, girl.”
Rae heard the words; through wall and glass they flew as if they were physical things sent crashing toward her. She stepped backward, putting herself between Sorcha and the faery who must be Bananach, the High Queen’s mad twin. It wasn’t that Rae could stop Bananach: the insubstantial couldn’t impede the physical. It wasn’t even that she cared to protect Sorcha: the High Queen had done nothing to earn Rae’s loyalty. Rae’s action was the instinctual movement to keep safe the entity that created the world around them. Sorcha created; Bananach destroyed. That simple fact was enough to align Rae’s loyalty for the moment.
Bananach grabbed a sleeping faery and tossed him through the window. Shards of glass crashed on the stone floor in a dangerous shower. The faery she’d thrown lay unaware and bleeding. The queen’s two mortals didn’t react at all. They stayed beside their queen’s casket.
“Run. Now,” Rae said to them. She didn’t turn to see if they obeyed.
The destructive faery looked to her left and right, reached down and uprooted a small sapling, and used it to knock out the remaining glass in the window frame. Shards hit the stone floor like a glittering rain shower.
Rae didn’t move, couldn’t move, as Bananach stared at her.
Bits of glass crunched under Bananach’s boots as she stepped through the window frame into the room.
“You belong to my brother,” Bananach said by way of greeting.
The raven-faery leaned close enough to Rae that for a breath it felt like she was going to walk into Rae. Rae moved to the side.
Bananach sniffed, circling Rae as she did so, and then paused. She tilted her head so close to her own shoulder that it looked as if her neck muscles had been severed. “You smell like him. He’s not here.”
“He’s not,” Rae agreed.
Beyond Bananach, Rae could see a few still-awake faeries who stood in the street. They watched the raven-faery as she stalked and circled Rae. They didn’t move, not to help or to flee. They stared with very un–High Court looks of horror on their faces.
“You have worn his skin”—Bananach sniffed again— “more than a few times. He let you inside of his body.”
“Devlin is my friend,” Rae said.
Bananach cackled. “He has no friends. He wasn’t made for such things.”
Rae straightened her shoulders and stared at the faery. “I am whatever he wants me to be.”
The faery stared at Rae as if she could see things, and Rae suspected she was seeing things, looking at the threads of Rae’s future. The sensation of being studied thusly was disquieting. Bananach was weighing and measuring her, and if the results weren’t to her liking, there was no reason to believe she’d ignore Rae.
Can she kill me?
But whatever Bananach saw as she peered into Rae’s future apparently wasn’t cause to try to strike her. Does she see anything? The expressions on the faery’s face were unreadable. She merely nodded and stepped around Rae.
“And there you are, sister mine.” Bananach reached out as if to touch the glass casket. Her talon-tipped hand hovered in the air over the blue glass. “Do you hear me?”
Rae had an unpleasant moment in which she wanted very badly not to respond, not to draw the raven-faery’s attention back to her. It was a normal response: prey rarely wanted to summon the predator’s gaze. It was also not the acceptable response. If Bananach could injure Sorcha, could further disrupt the High Queen’s grasp on reality, the consequences were too large to fathom.
“She can not hear you,” Rae said.
Bananach’s head swiveled at an inhuman angle. “But she hears you, doesn’t she?”
Rae shrugged. “Sometimes.”
“And what does she dream, the mad queen?” Bananach’s hand lowered to the glass even as she stared at Rae. Absently, she scraped her talon-nails over the glass, making a screeching sound.
“Ask Devlin.”
Bananach’s wings flexed, opening so that the shadows blocked the scant light from the window. “He’s not here, child.”
“He will be.”
“Aaaah, he will be… do you suppose he and the Hound received my message then?” Bananach asked. “I left them a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Bloodied, but no longer screaming.” Bananach looked crestfallen for a moment. “If I could have saved the screams, I would’ve, but they died with the body.”
Rae didn’t know what to say or do.
Bananach shook her head. “I have faeries to kill before I speak to my brother, Dreamwalker, but I’ll be back soon.”
Even as she spoke, she brought both fists down on the glass. A large clang echoed throughout the hall, the sound loud enough that Rae winced and covered her ears. The walls seemed to shudder—but the glass was unbroken.
“Alas.” Bananach laid her cheek on the glass over Sorcha’s face. “I’ll slaughter them all while you rest. Well, not all”—she stroked the glass—“today. I needed a bit of discord to soothe me, to help me make ready to destroy the betrayer.”
She left as calmly as she had come, stepping through the window frame. As Rae stood helplessly, Bananach departed, resuming her slaughter as she went down the street—stabbing abdomens, twisting necks, and flinging bodies. She did not distinguish between the sleeping and the alert. The world of Faerie shifted around War. Fires for the dead flamed into existence; screams echoed long past the ends of lives; and a charnel scent rose in the air in a sickening cloud.
Come soon, Dev.
CHAPTER 28
Ani didn’t steer; at the speeds they traveled back to Hunts- dale, it would be impossible for her to try to direct her steed. Barry was currently in the form of a GT by Citroën; one beauty of being able to shift form at will was that the steed could be a car that wasn’t even in production. She knew that Barry had plucked the image from her mind to make her smile, but even the joy of rocketing across the country in a matte-black version of the gorgeous concept car didn’t cheer her.
The weight of the situation felt like it had settled atop Ani’s lungs, making breathing more difficult than it should be. Faerie was dissolving, and Devlin could be caught in that. Ani wasn’t sure if she could go to Faerie. Sorcha had ordered Ani’s death; Devlin had disobeyed her. Would she kill me if I went there? Would it be worse for him? Ani couldn’t figure out whether she would be a help or hindrance if she went.
Being in Huntsdale where Bananach was didn’t sound particularly appealing either. She’d fled to avoid War’s attention, but the only faeries she knew who were strong enough to stand against Bananach were in Huntsdale.
If I’m going to die either way, I’d rather stay with him. She was pretty certain that wasn’t a line of argument that would be useful in discussion with anyone. She glanced at Devlin. His eyes were closed, and his face was expressionless, but she felt his fear and anger. He wasn’t hiding his feelings.
“Why does Seth matter to Sorcha?” Ani asked. “I get that she made him a faery and all, but… what’s the big deal about him?”
“That’s a question I intend to ask the High Queen.” He reached out and laid his hand atop hers, entwining their fingers. “What I know right now is only what Rae told me.”
“And you’re not telling me everything, are you?”
“No. I’m not,” he admitted. Devlin pulled his hand away rather than hide his emotions. “The queen’s secrets aren’t mine to share, but… I can say that I need to bring Seth to her.”
“There are secrets about the queen and Seth?” she asked.
“Yes.”
They traveled in silence for a few moments until Devlin finally said, “She has Seth. Perhaps she will not oppose my being solitary.”
Ani stilled. “Could you do that?”
“Many faeries do so.” That wasn’t a real answer though: Devlin wasn’
t most faeries.
Neither am I.
The idea of Sorcha letting him walk away seemed ludicrous. He was hers as much as Gabriel belonged to the Dark King.
Could I convince her to let me come and go in Faerie?
What happened next was dependent on so many things beyond their control and so many answers they didn’t know.
Like why she wanted me dead.
She reached out and took Devlin’s hand again.
He turned his head and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t set this aside, but after—”
“Duty isn’t something to apologize for.” She held his gaze. “I’m glad you aren’t afraid of me. I’m glad you found me, and”—she smiled—“didn’t kill me.”
His emotions vanished as he asked, “Which time?”
“Any of them.”
“And I am glad you didn’t kill me”—his emotional guard slipped only long enough for her to glimpse how worried he was—“and that you kissed me.”
She brushed her lips over his. “Which time?”
“All of them.”
They went back to silence as the landscape blurred around them.
With her free hand, Ani dialed Tish—and was dumped into voice mail instantly.
“Call me,” she said.
She was about to call Pins and Needles when the phone rang. home was on the caller ID. “Hey.”
It wasn’t Tish or Rabbit. Irial was calling from the shop number. “I need to you to come home,” he said.
Her hand tightened on her cell at his emotionless tone. “On the way already.”
“With Devlin?” Irial prompted.
“Yeah.” She glanced at Devlin. “He’s here. Did you need to talk to him?”
“Not yet,” Irial said. “Stay with him until you get here. Promise.”
“What’s going on? Iri?” Ani felt her hands start to sweat. “Talk to me.”
“I will. I’ll meet you here… at the studio.” His voice was gentle, but there was no doubt as to his lack of malleability. “Come home, Ani.”
“Is everything okay? Where are Tish and Rabbit? Are they with you?”
Irial’s pause was almost too long. “Rabbit’s here, and Tish is at my house.”
She disconnected and told her steed, Barry, I need you to go faster. Can you?
Maybe a little. Barry had already covered almost all of the distance they’d crossed, but holding two passengers and traveling at its fastest pace wasn’t easy.
Nothing in this world can move as fast as you, she told the steed.
In this world or in Faerie, Ani, Barry added. I would be even faster there.
If I go—
If we go, Barry corrected. I am your steed, Ani. We will always be together… even though it means putting up with him.
After Barry’s voice faded away, Ani was left with nothing to do but break the silence with music or conversation. Strangely for her, loud music seemed unappealing, and conversation felt futile. Everything felt tenuous.
Devlin reached out for her hand again, and they sat in the dark of the car, silent and holding on to each other for several hours.
At some point, she fell asleep, and the next thing she heard was Devlin saying, “Wake up, Ani.”
Good idea, Barry said. We are here.
She blinked her eyes and tried to focus on the road in front of them. Now that they were in city limits, Barry had slowed to a normal speed and resumed his default appearance of a Barracuda.
I am exhausted, Ani.
“Rest,” she murmured. Gently, she stroked her hand over the dashboard. “No one has a better steed.”
“Agreed,” Devlin said.
They pulled around the back of the shop. Before the engine was off, Irial was standing at her door. He opened it and took her hand. “Come inside.”
Still sleepy, Ani let him pull her close to his side, but it felt odd to be so near anyone but Devlin.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Inside first.” Irial looked over at Devlin, who’d immediately come to stand on the opposite side of her.
Ani stepped inside the studio. “You’re scaring me.”
The lights were all off, and the CLOSED sign was in the window. Through the glass, Ani could see several Hounds standing guard at both ends of the block. Devlin entered the studio, but positioned himself between her and the door, so anyone who managed to get past the Hounds outside would have to confront him. As nervous as she was, she didn’t object to being protected instead of standing beside him. He glanced at her, and then returned his attention to scanning the street, the shop, anywhere threats could lurk.
“Iri?” she asked.
“Sit down.” Irial tried to pull her over to a chair. “We can talk out here. Rabbit’s finally sleeping.”
“Rabbit’s sleeping?” She looked around, listened to the pervasive stillness in the studio, and felt her fears rise up. “Where’s Tish? Why is she at your house?”
“I’m sorry.” Irial had hold of her arm, keeping her still, trying to direct her to the chair.
“What’s going on?” She tugged her arm away. “Are they hurt? Who’s h—”
“I’m so sorry. I thought they were safe; I thought she…” Irial had tears in his eyes.
Ani felt panic rising. “Take me to Tish.”
She looked over at Devlin. He stepped closer to her.
Irial started, “Ani—”
“No! Where is she?” She pulled away from Irial and went toward the door that led from the shop into the living space of her home.
“Ani. She’s gone.” Irial pulled her hand away from the door, peeling each finger from the knob. “Bananach killed Tish. Tish is d—”
“No!” Ani shoved him. “She’s… no. Tish didn’t do anything. She didn’t have anything to do with Bananach. She’s…”
The floor seemed to come up to meet her as she slid down the wall. The world felt wrong. Her stomach twisted as everything that made sense in the world was suddenly gone.
“Tish is dead? My Tish gone?” Ani looked up at him. “When?”
“Last night.” Irial crouched down in front of her.
“How?” She pushed away every emotion, not by choice, but by necessity. Her feelings threatened to drown her. She shook from the intensity of the rage snarling inside her. Rage made sense, chased away the tears. Her skin stung like crawling things were all over her. It hurt too much to even let the anger well up.
Focus.
She took several breaths, caught Irial’s gaze, and asked, “How did she… did it happen?”
“It was quick,” Irial hedged. “Can we leave it at that for now?”
Ani stared at him. Her once-king, her protector all of these years, was undoubtedly devastated too—and guilt- stricken.
“For the moment,” she whispered. There were tears inside, but letting them fall meant Tish was really gone.
She can’t be.
Ani stood. “I should go to Rabbit.”
“He’s fine. Your house is the safest place in the city tonight. I promise.” Irial reached out and brushed her hair back. “I’m sorry, Ani. We thought we had enough guards, and she hadn’t tried anything. There were Hounds here, and if Tish hadn’t…”
“Hadn’t what?”
“She slipped out.” Irial scowled; at himself or at Tish, Ani wasn’t sure. “You’d think they could keep track of her, and… I don’t know why she did it.”
“She didn’t like to be caged. She did better than I do, but after a few days, she was still Gabriel’s daughter, and…” Ani shuddered at the thought of telling her father. “Does he know?”
“He does. The Hunt all know.” Irial looked lost, like he wanted to say something that would make everything right, but there was nothing. “Ani…”
She looked at him, not wanting to comfort him, not wanting to hear his words, not wanting the conversation to continue.
“Go check on Rabbit, please? I need… I need…” Ani’s words faltered. She look
ed past Irial to Devlin.
He crossed the room to her side.
She folded her arms over her chest, but it didn’t stop the trembling.
“Bananach would have to kill me in order to touch Ani.” Devlin said the words evenly. “Anyone killing me is very unlikely.”
Irial looked from one to the other, and then he left.
The quiet in the room was so much worse than before. It was empty. Tish wouldn’t ever come running into the studio again. She wouldn’t be there arguing over the music they played. She wouldn’t scold Ani. She wouldn’t anything.
Bananach had killed her.
Ani’s heart felt like it would stop, and for a moment she wished it would. It should’ve been me. Tish was gone, and Ani was left without her.
Ani looked at Devlin. “I want her dead for this.”
CHAPTER 29
Devlin had no words for Ani as she stood there silently. He knew this was when comfort was to be offered. Logic insisted there should be something he could say. There really wasn’t. His sister had killed her sister.
Ani didn’t weep. She stared at him with dry eyes. “Help me? I need to fix… this.”
“It isn’t something you can fix.” Devlin wished there was more he could say, some word, some promise. He couldn’t. War destroyed lives, families, hope. If they didn’t find a way to nullify Bananach, this would be just the first member of Ani’s family to die.
Words weren’t of any use, so Devlin pulled her into his arms.
The tears she’d been refusing to let fall started to race down her cheeks. “I’d undo it all if I could. If you could’ve killed me, then Tish and Jillian would be okay and—”
“No. Neither of them would’ve wanted that.” Devlin kissed her forehead and held her.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way. Ani wept almost silently, her tears soaking his shirt and her cries muffled against his chest. Devlin knew it wasn’t even the edge of her grief, but her brother slept on the other side of the door. She wouldn’t wail now, not when it could upset Rabbit.