He stops and glances over his shoulder at me. The tiny gold flecks in his eyes flare brighter, and he inhales sharply.

If I know Fae as well as I think I do, I just turned him on.

The Dani Daily

97 Days AWC

Dani “Mega” O’Malley SLAYS a HUNTER!!!

READ ALL ABOUT IT IN TDD, YOUR ONLY SOURCE FOR THE LATEST NEWS IN AND AROUND DUBLIN!

Sidhe-seers celebrate! We did it, we took one down!!! Took us all feckin’ night, but Jayne and the Guardians finally bagged one of the flapping fecks! Pumped it full of so much iron it crashed to the street. I stabbed the blimey feck straight through the heart with the Sword of Light! It was something to see, you shoulda been there! Thing bled dark up into the sword, all the way to the hilt, & for a sec I worried it mighta broke it or something, but it’s working again fine, so tell Ro not to get her panties in a twist!

Call to arms, dudes! Get outta that abbey and fight, fight, fight!!! Enough reconnoitering already! Rhymes with loitering, dudes—USELESS! DO something. We CAN make a difference. Haul ass to Dublin Castle. ’S’ new headquarters for the new Garda, and they’re way cool. Said all sidhe-seers welcome. ’SPECIALLY SINGLE ONES!!!!

Need to repopulate Dublin, ya know. Ain’t gonna happen by itself. Lots of heroes on the streets, risking their lives, kicking Fae ass. Hook up NOW!

MEET TONIGHT!!!

DUBLIN CASTLE!!!

EIGHT O’CLOCK!!!

JOIN THE HUNT!!!

PS: Mac’s sorry she can’t be there, still busy with other stuff, but she’ll be back REAL soon.

I slap the latest edition of my rag to the streetlamp and pound in a nail. I tell ’em what’ll work for me and don’t tell ’em what won’t. ’Times you gotta lie.

I cram a candy bar in my mouth and freeze-frame to the next streetlamp on my route. I know my rags are getting to the peeps. I been seeing results. Couple sidhe-seers ditched the abbey already. I’m taking over where Mac left off—shit-stirrer extraordinaire, bucking Ro’s rules and regs, all the while telling her whatever she wants to hear.

Two candy bars and a protein pack later, I’m done with my route and burning up the pavement for my fave place. I got hours for myself now and gonna spend ’em all circling Chester’s, slicing and dicing everything that comes within a ten-block radius of it.

I swagger down the street.

Ry-O and his men are in there—least I think they are. Ain’t seen none in a while but keep hoping. See, ’cause they piss me off. They threatened me.

Nobody threatens the Mega.

I snicker. Pub ain’t no good if patrons can’t get in. I can’t keep ’em out all night, ’cause I hunt with the Guardians and kill what they trap, but I do ’nuff damage during the day. Jayne caught me one afternoon, said they’ll kill me for it. He’s heard tales of ’em, steers clear. Says they’re no more human than the Fae.

Told ’em the pricks can just try to mess with me. See, ’nother thing I didn’t tell nobody is, when I stabbed the Hunter, something weird happened: The dark came all the way up my sword and got into my arm a little. Infected me like a splinter. For a couple days, my hand had black veins and was icy like it was dead. Had to wear a glove to hide it. Thought I might lose it, hafta learn to fight right-handed.

Looks okay now.

Ain’t in no hurry to kill a Hunter again.

But I think I’m faster. And Ro’s orders don’t seem to make me feel near as conflicted as they used to.

Think Ry-O and his dudes maybe got nothing on me, and I’d like to test it. Like to show Mac, but it’s been more than three whole weeks since I saw her last. Since we broke into the libraries.

Barrons ain’t ’round neither.

I don’t worry. Ain’t my nature. I live. Leave the worrying for the warts.

But I sure wish she’d show up. Any time now’d be real good.

Sinsar Dubh’s been all over this city past few days. Took out a dozen of Jayne’s men in one night, like it was playing with us. Kept dividing us, picking us off.

Kinda starting to wonder if it’s looking for me.

5

In the House, away from my enemy, I find solace for a time. Grief, loss, pain melt away. I wonder if they cannot exist inside these walls.

The weight of my spear in the holster beneath my arm is back, heavy against my side. Like V’lane, Darroc has some way of taking it from me, but when we are apart he returns it. Perhaps so I can defend myself. I can’t imagine needing to in a place such as this.

There has never been and will never be another place in any realm, in any dimension, that holds me in such thrall as the White Mansion. Not even the bookstore competes for dominance in my soul.

The House is mesmerizing. If, deep down inside where I feel psychotic, I am angered by this, I’m too lulled by whatever drug it feeds me to focus on it for long.

I wander the rose-floored corridor, absorbing it in a dreamy daze. Windows line the right side of the hall, and, beyond the crystal-edged panes, dawn blushes over gardens filled with pink roses, wreathed heads nodding sleepily in the gentle morning breeze.

The rooms that open off this corridor are decorated in hues of morning sky. The colors of the hall, the day beyond, and the rooms complement one another perfectly, as if, from every angle, this wing was designed as an outfit, flawlessly accessorized, to be donned depending on the mood.

When the rose floor ends and a sudden turn in the corridor sets me on a lavender path, violet dusk clings to the windows. Nocturnal creatures frolic in a forest glade beneath a moon rimmed with brilliant cerulean. The rooms in this corridor are furnished in shades of twilight.

Yellow and reflective floors open onto sunny days and sunnier rooms.

Bronze corridors have no windows, only tall arched doors that lead into enormous, high-ceilinged, kingly rooms—some for dining, some filled with books and comfortable chairs, others for dancing, and still more for what I think are forms of entertainment I don’t understand. I imagine I hear echoes of laughter. Lit by candles, the rooms off bronze corridors are masculine and smell of spice. I find the scent intoxicating, disturbing.

I walk and walk, looking into this room and that, delighted by the things I find, the things I recognize. In this place, every hour of day and night is always available.

I have been here many times before.

There’s the piano I played.

Here is the sunroom where I sat and read.

There’s the kitchen where I ate truffles smothered in cream and filled with delicate fruits that don’t exist in our world.