Iced, стр. 49

The caged Unseelie roar and howl.

Because I’m a sidhe-seer, I can sense Fae in my bones, in my marrow, in that strange hot/cold center of my brain other folks don’t have.

Before the walls fell, when there were fewer of them in our world, my “spidey-sense” was a crystal clear beacon, warning me if one of them got too close to me long before it was close enough to be a threat. But ever since the walls fell, there are so many of them around me that my Fae-alarm is constantly going off, 24/7. Like every other sidhe-seer that wants to remain sane — or just get some much-needed sleep — I’ve learned to mute it. If you don’t figure out how to turn the volume down, you’ll go crazy. It’s not just an inner alarm saying, “Warning, a Fae is near.” It rides tandem with a flash of pure rage, of prime directive to kill, kill, kill, and do it right now this very instant even if you have to use your bare hands to tear it apart. It’s not something you can suppress. It’s too strong. The older women at the abbey say it’s like having the worst, most bloodthirsty hot flash imaginable, a hormone surge of pure homicidal fury. I don’t want to live long enough to get hot flashes. Puberty is bad enough.

My Fae-sensor is on full mute right now. And even with it completely shut down, I feel it: a very powerful Unseelie is close to me, too close for comfort.

In order for it to be penetrating the barricade of silence I’ve erected around myself, its power has to be enormous. I nudge my volume up a hair, trying to figure out the who, what, and where. With so many Unseelie in the warehouse it takes me a few seconds to isolate the new arrival.

There it is!

I expand my awareness, taking its measure.

Ancient. Deadly.

Sex. Hunger. Rage. Hunger. Sex. Hunger. Rage. Hunger.

I feel it but I can’t see it.

The short hairs on the back of my neck are tiny needles in my skin.

Suddenly a shadow moves in the gloomy, humid dawn and it’s there, on the other side of the dock, hair and eyes barely visible. We’re directly across from each other, no more than thirty feet of concrete between us.

It’s not Christian this time. It’s one of the full-blood Unseelie princes. Then again, after finding the dead naked woman stuffed between his bed and the wall, I’m not sure that’s a meaningful distinction.

I go as still as Christian’s dead woman.

It’s not looking at me. It’s watching Jayne. It appears to be completely unaware of me. I consider slinking down out of sight and cowering on my knees, focus hard on trying not to see all those graphic sex pictures on the inside walls of my skull like I’m seeing now.

Hunger. Need. Sex.

But I can’t slink down because I don’t dare take my eyes off it. I’m too dangerous to let a prince capture me, turn me Pri-ya and control me! That’s the argument I should have made to Ryodan! Without my sword the princes can take me hostage, turn me into one of their mindless sex-crazed slaves and use me as a weapon against him. I bet he’d have listened if I’d said that, but I didn’t think of it because I was too pissed off.

I scan the edge of the dock but I see just the one prince. Where is the other? Holding my head perfectly still, slanting only my eyes, I peer down at my timer. I’ve got over four minutes before our first explosion goes off.

How did it find me so fast? Well, it hasn’t found me yet, but apparently it knew where to look. Did we pass more Rhino-boys without realizing it, and they phoned my whereabouts in?

I stare, holding my breath, trying to decide if I should drop to my knees now or just try to continue not breathing or moving. I watch it while it watches Jayne, who’s killing another Unseelie, and all the sudden I get this total epiphany: it didn’t come here looking for me!

It came for my sword.

Now that I’m no longer the sword’s guardian, the princes actually have a chance to take it and destroy it. It can’t resist the opportunity to eliminate one of only two weapons that can kill Fae. It couldn’t take it from me because I’m the Mega, but it thinks it can steal it from Jayne because he doesn’t have any special powers. He’s just a man.

Worst part is, it’s probably right. It probably can sift in and grab it before Jayne even knows what happened. It’s an Unseelie, which means it won’t actually be able to touch it because the Dark Fae can’t touch the Light Hallows and vice versa, but I’m willing to bet it’s got some kind of plan for that.

I’m fast but I can’t beat a sifter. That’s the whole reason I need my sword back so bad. With all the sifters I’ve pissed off, I’m a walking dead girl without it.

I envision the possible scenarios, starting with the worst first. I like to do it that way so I can end on the happy thought and aim for it.

One: the Unseelie prince sifts in, and kills everyone. He has one of his Pri-ya chick groupies with him whose head is currently not visible because it’s somewhere lower doing something totally disgusting, and she picks up the sword, and he sifts out with her holding the booty.

Two: the Unseelie prince spots me, sifts over and kills me.

Three: the Unseelie prince spots me, sifts over, captures me and turns me Pri-ya. I refuse to follow that thought further. Bottom line: any version with the Unseelie prince spotting me ends badly.

Four: I drop to my knees and hide. It never knows I’m here. Dancer’s bombs go off in quick succession. I freeze-frame in and take my sword while everyone is discombobulated. I kill the Unseelie prince in a dazzlingly display of dexterity and grace. Sonnets are composed about me.

I grin. I like that one.

I return my attention to the situation at hand and realize Reality — the impatient bitch — has made my decision for me. She does that a lot. You get busy planning your life, then it has the nerve to just go ahead and happen to you before you’re ready. Before you even get the chance to aim yourself right!

It’s one of the bad scenarios.

The Unseelie prince spotted me.

Twenty-Two

The most scared I get is the most alive I ever feel.

I should collapse into a puddle of terror but adrenaline shoves a broomstick up my spine.

If the Unseelie prince gets within a few feet of me, I’ll collapse anyway whether I’ve got a supercharged backbone or not. Nobody’s immune to Fae royalty. Nobody’s got any protection against them. The Seelie royalty keep their deadly eroticism mostly muted around humans as a courtesy. The Unseelie revel in using it on us full force. The princes have already turned hundreds of women Pri-ya. Nobody knows what to do with them. Folks can’t decide whether to lock them up or mercy-kill them. Last I heard, they were keeping them locked up in what used to be a psych ward.

My superpowers are useless against the princes. All that sex and need and hunger wipes your mind clean of everything but lust that you’re willing to die for. I saw Mac at her worst, when she was Pri-ya. She’s the only person anybody knows of that’s ever been brought back from the mentally shattered condition. It’s one thing to have your body caged. I can’t think of anything worse than losing your mind. I glance in at Jayne, desperate for my sword. He’s currently using it to hack another Unseelie to death in front of a screaming, snarling, roaring audience. Without Dancer’s diversion there’s no way I’ll make it past all those Guardians and guns. I glance at my watch. Still three and a half minutes to go!

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” I say all nonchalant-like to the Unseelie prince, while I pull the pin out of one of the grenades Dancer altered, months ago, to cause a blinding, delayed explosion. I use them as Shade-grenades, tucked into a ball of immortal flesh. While we were at his digs earlier, I stuffed my pockets with all kinds of things. I cram a candy bar in my mouth with my other hand and say, “Check this out. It came off the sword before Jayne took it. What do you think it is?”