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Kaye squinted. "I've seen you before. In the Night Court.”
The smile dropped from the boy's face. "I was only there once.”
"With a girl," Kaye said. "She dueled one of Roiben's people. You probably don't remember me.”
"You're from the Night Court?" the boy demanded. His glance went to Corny and his eyes narrowed.
Corny reminded himself he didn't care what this guy thought of either one of them.
Kaye shrugged. "More or less.”
The boy sucked on his teeth. "Not such a nice place.”
"And the Bright Court is full of sugar and spice and everything nice?" Kaye asked him.
"Point." The boy slid his hands into the pockets of his oversize coat. "Look, the Lady wants me to take you to her, and I don't have much choice about being her bitch, but you've still got to come back in the morning. I've got someone coming really early, and I've got to take care of him before I head out.”
"We can't," Corny said. "We don't have anywhere to sleep.”
The boy looked at Kaye. "I can't let her stay here. I do jobs for people—human people. They see some faery and her boy hanging around and think they can't trust me.”
"So I guess they don't know that you're Silarial's boy," Corny said. "Then they'd know not to trust you.”
"I do what I have to do," he said. "Not like you—a little Night Court lackey. Does it bother you when they torture humans, or do you like to watch?”
Corny shoved him, hard, the force of his rage surprising even him. "You don't know anything about me.”
The boy laughed, short and sharp, stumbling back. Corny thought of his own hands, deadly inside thin gloves. He wanted to stop the boy's laughing.
Kaye pushed between them. "So if I were to take off my glamour and sit here on your stoop, that would be a problem?”
"You wouldn't do that. Your glamour protects you a lot more than it does me.”
"Does it?" Kaye asked.
A pixie. The boy had known right away, not just that Kaye was a faery, but the kind of faery she was. Corny thought about the little hob and what he'd said: There is a boy with the True Sight. In the great city of exiles and iron to the north. He's been breaking curses on mortals. The boy had True Sight. He couldn't tell if she was wearing glamour or not.
He turned to Kaye and widened his eyes slightly in what he hoped would seem like surprise. Then he turned back to the boy and smiled. "Looks like she meant it. Wow, I can never get used to her wings and green skin—so freaky-looking. I guess we'll just be hanging out on your steps now. It's not like we have anywhere else to go. But don't worry—if anyone comes by looking for you, we'll tell them you'll be right out ... as soon as you're done helping a phooka find his keys.”
The boy frowned. Corny put his gloved hand on Kaye's arm, willing her to play along. With a quick glance in his direction, she shrugged her narrow shoulders.
"At least you'll know where to find us in the morning," she said.
"Fine," said the boy, holding up his hands. "Get in here.”
"Thanks," Corny said. "This is Kaye, by the way. Not 'the pixie' or 'my Night Court mistress' or whatever, and I'm . . ." He paused. "Neil. Cornelius. People call me Neil.”
Kaye looked over at him, and for a terrible moment he thought she was going to laugh. He just didn't want this boy calling him Corny. Corny, like he was King of the Dorks, like his very name announced how lame and tired and dull he was.
"I'm Luis," the boy said, oblivious, opening the door. "And this is my squat.”
"You squat here?" Kaye asked. "On the Upper West Side?”
Inside, the plaster walls were cracked, and chunks of debris covered the scuffed wooden floors. Wet brown stains soaked the ceiling in rings, and a tangle of wires inside the framing were visible in one corner.
Corny's breath clouded the air as though they were still outside. "More majestic than a trailer," he said. "But also oddly shittier.”
"How did you find this place?" Kaye asked.
