* * *
Connor shifted back to human form and donned his clothes, and I explained my idea to Roger, and we left Swift in Alexei’s care.
“Why are we doing this?” he asked, sounding very leery, which was understandable.
“Because we need answers. And we don’t have a lot of sources. And depending on what Black has gotten himself into, we may not have a lot of time. Claudia owes me a favor.”
“Which she’ll try to sneak her way out of,” Connor said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He wasn’t nervous,but on alert, which was also understandable. “You think he has something big planned.”
“I think there’s been a lot of magical foreplay. If he really wants to be supernatural king, or kingpin, of Chicago, wouldn’t there be an enthronement ceremony at least?”
Giving voice to the possibility that Black had something big planned settled something inside me, because I realized that was the reason I was feeling so on edge. While Gwen thought demon fighting was her new forever gig, I was afraid we were heading toward a more cataclysmic conclusion.
Connor reached over, put a hand on mine. “One step at a time,” he said. “That’s all we have to do.”
* * *
The trip to the fairy castle was rougher than it had been earlier in the week—literally. The road was missing chunks of asphalt, nearby apartment buildings had lost windows, and storefronts were boarded up. Chicago was looking more and more like a postapocalyptic landscape.
We saw no sign of Black or his magic—whatever that might be—as we crossed town. Not that we knew what to look for.
The fairy castle, either immune to demon destruction or protected against it, stood tall and stark against the sky. Torches had been lit, all the walls had been repaired, and when we climbed out of the vehicle, the air smelled of woodsmoke.
I took the lead on foot to the gate, where guards stood at attention. They made no move to stop us as we walked in, but a half dozen fae met us inside the gatehouse.
“We’d like to see her,” I said.
The fairy in front—tall and gaunt and long haired—looked me over.
“She owes you a boon,” he said after a moment. “You may attend her.”
It was possibly the easiest entry we’d ever had into the fairy castle—at least among the times the fairies had been awake and sober.
Three of the guards took the lead as we moved into the keep; the other three stayed behind us. Boon or not, Claudia was taking no chances in these times.
We found her in the great hall, seated at the head of a long table. A dozen fairies, including a human handmaiden, attended her. A dozen more danced to the sounds of a flute and a stringed instrument—a lute, maybe?—their dance steps nearly silent on the rush-strewn floor.
We were led to the head of the table. A few fairy eyes were on us, but not those of the fairies in the empty spot in the room performing a kind of line dance. If they were bothered by what was happening in the world outside, they didn’t show it. To the contrary, they looked happy and relaxed.
I felt monster’s mild irritation and agreed with the sentiment. It was difficult not to feel envious of their party.
In addition to the handmaiden, who stood just behind the queen, a beautiful woman and an equally handsome man were seated on either side of Claudia; they took turns offering her grapes while she sipped from a goblet. Tonight Claudia’s gown was a pale, frosted lavender strategically embroidered with violets and ivy. Her hair was braided and wound into a crown and studded with amethysts. With her hair up, she looked younger than she usually did, but no less formidable.
“Bloodletter,” she said, pausing for a sip of wine, “you are impatient. You might have held your boon for a millennium.”
“Chicago may not last that long.”
“But the world will survive it,” she said, drawing her gaze away from her apparent lovers to take a look at us. There wasappreciation in her eyes when she glanced at Connor and mild disappointment when she looked at me.
“I can make you as beautiful as we are,” she said, “and improve that dour clothing.”
“She is beautiful,” Connor said, and her smile went dim.
“The wolf has teeth,” she said, and held out a hand, waved at the carafes and bottles that filled the table. “You may drink from my vessels.”
I mean, come on. That wasn’t even subtle.
“No, thanks,” Connor said before I could decline on his behalf. “Then you’d owe her another boon.”
