“He’s a good person. Give him a chance.”
“He’s never been a father, not like Rabbit.” Ani didn’t want to admit that being in the Dark Court wasn’t everything she dreamed of, not even to Tish. Being surrounded by the Hounds and the Dark Court should make her feel less alone, but the exact opposite had happened. “It’s not like I’m a pup. And his not letting you and me live in the same place, keeping me away from you and Rab, is no good.”
“I miss you too.” Tish always gave voice to the stuff Ani couldn’t deal with or even admit she needed to deal with.
Ani leaned her shoulder against the wall, enjoying the way the rough edges of brick felt against her bare back. It anchored her in the now—which was where she needed to be, not dwelling on memories best kept boxed up.
“Are you coping?” Tish gestured vaguely. They never really talked about the way Ani craved contact—or the consequences of her getting too much of it.
“Sure.” Ani watched a group of guys head toward the door. They weren’t faery-pretty or emotional feasts, but they were on the prowl. For her, right then, that was good enough. It has to be. She could take a taste from each of them, a touch here and an emotion there, to keep the hungers at bay.
Not both. Never both from the same person.
She linked her arm through Tish’s. “Come on.”
Glenn was working the door. He winced as they approached. “And here it was looking like such a good night.”
“Jerk.” Tish cuddled into his open arms. “You’d miss me if I didn’t stop in.”
“Sure, but when you have your partner in chaos …” He wrapped an arm familiarly around Tish’s waist and lifted her into his lap.
Ani tilted her head inquiringly. This is new. And Ani hadn’t seen it because living with the Hounds meant not seeing her sister but once or so every other week.
Tish smiled contently as Glenn held her.
“Hey.” Glenn kissed Tish’s forehead, and then swept his gaze around the people and shadows in the lot. He didn’t get involved in whatever business people took out of sight, but dealing inside was banned.
“Aren’t you going to give Glenn a hug?” Tish played coy and silly, slipping into her role as easily as if their outings were still a daily thing. “It’s been, like, weeks.”
“You heard her. C’mere.” Glenn held out the other arm.
Ani leaned in close, enjoying the feel of bare arm and partly bare chest. Glenn had a sleeveless shirt on, fastened with only one button. He’d taken to the surprising return of Summer like most mortals—exposing a good amount of skin.
Glenn released Ani, but held on to Tish. “You be careful in there. Both of you.” He stared at Ani. “I mean it.”
Tish kissed him. “We’ll do our best.”
“That’s what I worry about,” Glenn muttered.
“Just dancing, Glenn.” Ani took her sister’s hand and pushed open the door. “I promise she’ll be fine.”
“You too,” Glenn said.
But the door was open and the crowd of bodies was right there, and all Ani could do was call back, “Sure.”
The band was old-school punk, and there was a pit. Perfect. With a gleeful squeal, Tish shoved Ani forward into the mass.
Devlin watched for Seth as he walked through the crush of mortals in the Crow’s Nest. It was less complicated to await Seth here; the alternative was going to the Dark Court, and dealing with the Dark King could be fraught with difficulties. Niall, the Gancanagh who’d once lived in Faerie and now ruled the Dark Court, had changed. His years with Irial, his centuries advising the Summer King, and his recent ascension to the Dark Court’s throne all combined to create a faery monarch who should not be trusted.
Not that Seth should be trusted either.
Seth was loved by the Summer Queen, had been gifted with Sight by the Winter Queen, and had been declared “brother” to the Dark King. Rather than nullify the threat of a mortal walking among all the courts—as Sorcha should’ve done—the High Queen had remade Seth as a
faery and invited him into her court. Devlin couldn’t help but wonder at the logic in some of the decisions she was making of late.
Mortals pushed against Devlin, and he had to remind himself that physically relocating them was considered aggressive in the mortal realm—and that aggression was not a quality he was supposed to embrace. He threaded his way through the crowd.
With the noise and blaring music, the shadows and flashing lights, the Crow’s Nest called to the discordant side of his ancestry.
“I am looking for Seth,” he told the barmaid.
“Not here yet.” She glanced at his wrist, seeking the age band that would indicate whether or not he was allowed to order alcoholic drinks.
Devlin shifted his appearance so that she saw a glowing strip of plastic, white under the black lights hanging over the bar.
“Wine. White.” He dropped a bill on the bar.
“Change?”
He shook his head. Exchanging funds for alcohol was odd; in Faerie such transactions were unnecessary. What one required was simply provided.
The barmaid grabbed a bottle of chardonnay, filled a cocktail glass, and set it on the bar. It was the wrong glass and cheap wine, but he didn’t expect much else from the Crow’s Nest. Her hand was still cradling the short glass
when Devlin wrapped his hand around the other side, interlacing his fingers with hers, holding her attention. “I’m Devlin.”
She paused. “I remember you.”
“Good. You’ll tell him I’m here,” Devlin said.
She nodded and turned to the next customer.
Neither the doorman nor the barmaid had seen Seth, but between the two, Devlin was assured that Seth would know Devlin was looking for him the moment he arrived.
Drink in hand, Devlin retreated to the periphery. Something in the club was making Devlin want the release of a fight.
He looked over the crowd, but it wasn’t Niall or Seth that he saw on the floor: Bananach stood in the shadows across the room. Her presence explained the extra urge to violence. Just as being near Sorcha made him feel calmer, being near Bananach made him feel disorderly urges.
If Sorcha knew that her mad twin was in the club favored by Seth, the illogical anxiety the High Queen had experienced of late would worsen. If Bananach injured Seth, Sorcha would be … He couldn’t fathom what she would be. However, he was certain that he needed to convince Bananach to leave before Seth arrived. It would be preferable if Seth returned to Faerie—at least until the likelihood of true war in the mortal world was past. If Seth were injured, Sorcha might very well involve herself in battle with Bananach, and that could not end well for anyone.
Devlin didn’t observe social niceties as he went toward Bananach. Instead, he pulled his glamour around him like a shadow to hide his presence and shoved mortals from his path.
Necessary logical aggression.
“Brother!” Bananach smiled at him and casually knocked a mortal to the ground.
A small fight broke out as two guys both blamed the other. One threw a punch. The one on the floor came up swinging.
“How are you, Sister?”
“I