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Who got in a jam rather silly,
He found a beautiful lass
And quick made a pass
Forgetting he only had mist for a willy.
“Where are we?” I yelled. “What’s going on?” The only answer I got was a rousing chorus of “The Belle of Belfast City.” Trust Billy to make me want to strangle him when he wasn’t even in the same room. “You’re drunk!”
“That I am,” he agreed, “but I’m conscious, which is more than I can say for my orange friend, here. Can’t hold his liquor, poor sod.”
“Billy!”
“All right, Cass. Hold your horses and good old Billy will tell the tale. We’ve been taken by the Dark Fey. They snatched me out of a lovely pub and threw me in this dank hole, with only himself for company, to wait on the king’s pleasure.”
I sagged in relief. At least we weren’t going to be beheaded in the morning or something equally medieval. That bought the others some time to find us, assuming they were still free. “Where is everyone?” I hoped they were doing better than me, or we were in a lot of trouble.
“Pritkin and Marlowe are trying to convince the captain of the guard—a nasty pixie—to let us go, but I don’t know how well they’re doing.” He paused, then asked in a different tone. “Hey, Cass. What do you think would happen to me if I got killed here? They don’t have any ghosts, have you noticed?”
I thought of Mac, his face sagging in death, his eyes dull. If there had been a sign of a ghost, a flare or spark anywhere around him, I hadn’t noticed. A new wash of chills spread over me. My God, what had we done?
“What if I didn’t come back?” Billy was saying, “What if that was it—I died and there was no loophole this time? What if—”
“Billy!” I tried to keep the hysterical note out of my voice, but I wasn’t entirely successful. I swallowed and tried again. “You aren’t going to die, Billy. We’ll get out of this.” I said it as much to reassure myself as to quiet him, but I don’t think it worked for either of us.
I heard a jangle of keys outside my cell, and the huge door swung open on ancient hinges. I was almost blinded by the lantern light that flooded the room, but blinking through my fingers, I made out who the guard was carrying. “Tomas!”
The guard, who was only about five feet tall, carried the six-foot-something vampire as if he was weightless. He dropped his burden on the bunk and turned to me, and for the first time I noticed the boar’s tusks protruding from his wide mouth. Ogre, some part of my brain piped up as he thrust a stubby finger in my chest and grunted. His voice sounded like gravel being rolled over by a tank, and if it was supposed to contain words, I couldn’t understand them.
“He want that you heal him,” came a voice from the doorway. Behind the bulk of the jailer stood a slim brunette wearing an elaborate green dress covered in red embroidery. It took me a second to place her.
“Françoise?” It was bizarre. Every time I turned around, there she was. The first time we met had been in seventeenth century France, when Tomas and I had saved her from the Inquisition. Then she’d turned up again at Dante’s with the pixie, where she was about to be sold to the Fey. I’d released her, but it looked like Destiny snapped at her heels as closely as it did at mine, because here she was anyway. “What are you doing here?” I asked, bewildered.
“You and le monsieur ’elped me once,” she answered quickly. “I ’ave come, ’ow do you say? To return the favor.”
“What about the others?” I asked quickly, “I came with a group—”
“Oui, je sais. The mage, ’ee make a deal with Radella. She is captain of the night guard, une grande baroudeuse, a warrior of skill.”
“What kind of deal?”
“The mage ’ave a rune of power. Radella has long searched for such. Above all, she want a child, but is inféconde , barren. The mage say, ’ee cast it for her, if she aid us.”
“Jera.” Damn it if it hadn’t come in handy after all.
"C’est ça.” She glanced at the ogre, who was looking between the two of us suspiciously. I got the impression that he didn’t speak English, at least not well enough to follow the conversation. “They do not know why le vampire will not wake. I tell them you are a great healer—that you can save ’eem.”
“He’s in a healing trance. He’ll save himself, hopefully.”
“Eet does not matter,” she said, smiling and nodding at the ogre. “I want only to ’ave the two of you together, near the portal. I return soon, after the guards change.”
“The portal? But—”
“I weel do what I can,” she said as the ogre lumbered past her, apparently deciding the conversation had lasted long enough. “But you must promise to take me with you. Please, I ’ave been here so long . . .”
“You’ve been here a week,” I said, confused. I wanted to explain that I didn’t need the portal. I needed to find Myra, not go right back where I’d started from, especially not with the geis in place and the Senate and Circle both hunting me. Worst of all, if we turned back now, Mac had died for nothing. But the ogre, who had paused to place the lantern on the floor, was now pulling the door shut. Françoise stared at me over his shoulder, looking panicked. “Okay, I promise!” I said. Even a week would feel like an eternity here, and I’d never leave anyone to face what had almost happened to me.
I stood in the middle of the room, hearing the ogre’s foot-steps echo down the corridor as he walked away. I wanted to check on Tomas but was afraid. What if he was no better? What if he’d never been in a healing trance at all, and we’d been lugging around a corpse?
