I’d been right about black and tight. Beneath a raincoat I had no intention of removing until I absolutely had to I was wearing a clingy catsuit that fitted me so snugly I might as well have been naked for all it revealed. Barrons had secured a work belt around my waist with myriad pockets and pouches into which he’d stuffed my spear, flashlights, and half a dozen other gadgets and gizmos I couldn’t identify. It weighed a ton.

“What is this amulet, anyway?” I asked as I settled back into my seat. I wanted to know what I was risking life, limb, and modesty to steal.

He took the seat opposite me. “You never really know what a Fae relic is until you get your hands on it. Even then, it may take time to figure out how to use it. That includes the Hallows.”

I raised a brow and glanced down at my spear. I hadn’t had any problems figuring it out.

“That’s what most would call a no-brainer, Ms. Lane. And I can’t guarantee that it doesn’t have another purpose entirely to a Fae. Their history is sketchy, full of inaccuracies, and planted liberally with lies.”

“Why?”

“Multiple reasons. For one, illusion amuses them. Two, they frequently re-create themselves, and each time they do so, they divest all memory.”

“Huh?” Divest memory? Could I get in on this? I had a few I’d like to lose and they didn’t all begin with my sister’s death.

“A Fae will never die of natural causes. Some of them have lived longer than you could possibly fathom. Extreme longevity has an unfortunate and inescapable by-product: madness. When they feel it approaching, most choose to drink from the Seelie Hallow, the cauldron, and wipe their memories clean so they can start over. They retain nothing of their former existence and believe they are born the day they drink. There is a record-keeper; one who scribes the names of each incarnation each Fae has borne, and maintains a true history of their race.”

“Doesn’t the record-keeper eventually go mad, too?”

“He or she drinks before that happens and the duty changes hands.”

I frowned. “How do you know all this, Barrons?”

“I’ve been researching the Fae for years, Ms. Lane.”

“Why?”

“The amulet,” he said, ignoring my question, “is one of the gifts the Unseelie King fashioned for his favored concubine. She was not of his race and possessed no magic. He wished her to be able to weave illusions for her amusement, like the rest of his kind.”

“But the auctioneer made it sound as if the amulet did more than weave illusions, Barrons,” I protested. I wanted it to work. I wanted it. “He made it sound like it impacted reality. Just look at the list of prior owners. Whether they were good or bad, they were all incredibly powerful.”

“Another problem with Fae relics is they often transmute over time, especially if they are used near or corrupted by other magic. They can take on a life of their own, and turn into something other than what they were meant to be. For example, when the Sifting Silvers were first made they rippled like the silver of a sun-kissed sea. In those hallowed halls was beauty beyond compare. They were pure, magnificent. Yet now they’re—”

“Black around the edges,” I exclaimed, thrilled to have some nugget of knowledge to contribute to the conversation, “like they’re going bad from the outside in.”

He looked at me sharply. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen them. I just didn’t know what they were.”

“Where?” he demanded.

“In the Lord Master’s house.”

He stared.

“You didn’t go inside the house?”

“I was in a bit of a hurry that day, Ms. Lane. I went straight to the warehouse. So that’s how he’s been getting in and out of Faery. I wondered.”

“Not following,” I said.

“With the Silvers a human can enter the Fae realms, undetected. How many did he have?”

“I don’t know. I saw at least half a dozen.” I paused before adding, “There were things in those mirrors, Barrons.” Things I saw in my nightmares sometimes.

To my surprise, Barrons didn’t ask what. “Were they open?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you have to uncover the glasses to look into them, Ms. Lane?”

I shook my head.

“Did you see any runes or symbols in the mirrors, on the surface?”

“No, but I didn’t really look.” After I’d glanced into the first few, I’d refused to regard the others with anything more than peripheral vision. “So you’re saying these mirrors are doorways into Faery? I could have walked into one?”

“It’s not quite that simple, but under certain circumstances, yes. The Silvers are one of the Unseelie Hallows. Most believe the first Dark Hallow the King created was a single mirror. A few of us know it was actually a vast network of mirrors, linking dimensions and connecting realms. The Silvers were the Tuatha Dé’s first method of locomotion between dimensions, before they evolved to the point where they could travel by thought alone, although some say they were created for a more personal purpose of the dark king’s that history failed to record. At some point in the Fae timeline, this Cruce we keep hearing about cursed the Silvers.”

When I regarded him expectantly, he shook his head. “I don’t know what curse, nor do I know who Cruce was or why he cursed them. I only know that not even the Fae dared to enter the Silvers, under the direst of circumstances, after he’d done it. Once they started to turn dark, the Seelie Queen banished the glasses from Faery, not trusting them in their realms, for fear of what they were becoming.”

I felt that way about myself lately; turning dark and afraid of what I was becoming. At that moment, I had no idea how light I still was. But then we so rarely understand the value of what we possess until it’s gone.

I shook off the spell of Barrons’ story. I needed some sunshine in my life, and soon. In the interim, a lighter topic would do. “Let’s get back to the amulet.”

“In a nutshell, Ms. Lane, it’s rumored to amplify human will.”

“If you visualize it, it will come to pass,” I said.

“Something like that.”

“Well, it certainly seems to work. You saw the list.”

“I also saw the long gaps between ownership. I suspect only a handful of people possess a will strong enough to make it work.”