Black Lament by Christina Henry Page A

a Facebook account, as you well know.”
    “You’re discussing the paternity of the faerie kingdom’s heir on Facebook?”
    “Just because you don’t know the value of social media doesn’t mean everyone is like that,” he said.
    “Then I want you to put your pastime to good use. See what else you can find out about Titania and Oberon.”
    “Are you looking for some specific information?” Beezle asked.
    “Yeah. I want to know their weaknesses.”
    “Besides the usual immortal flaws of vanity, jealousy and self-righteousness?”
    “Yes. Although those give me something to start with,” I said, thinking. “If there is any truth to the rumors about Oberon, then there’s some leverage there.”
    “Careful where you tread,” Beezle said.
    “I know. They would crush me just for implying their heir is not legitimate.”
    “It definitely hits Oberon’s pride. And Titania will apparently do anything to keep him happy.”
    “So they love each other, then?”
    “Not in the way you would think of love, probably, but yes, they do.”
    “And that’s something to work with, too,” I said. “Love is a weakness. If you care about someone, then you can be hurt.”
    Beezle looked at me. “Aren’t we ruthless?”
    “I know better than anyone how love can cut you to pieces.”
    “But love isn’t just pain,” he said, his eyes troubled. “Isn’t there happiness, too?”
    “Just enough to make the cut deeper when it comes,” I said.
    We both stared at the table, lost in our thoughts.
    “Let’s not brood,” I said, after a while. “Want to watch a movie with me? Something funny?”
    “Yeah, Night of the Living Dead .”
    “It’s funny to watch people get their guts eaten by zombies?”
    “It is if they’re too stupid to get away. Zombies shamble . You could escape them with a brisk walk and yet these idiots are getting overtaken all the time.”
    “It’s the number of zombies that’s the problem,” I said, “not the speed at which you attempt to escape.”
    Beezle waved a hand at me. “This is starting to sound disturbingly like a nerd argument, and I am not a nerd. You make the popcorn; I’ll get the DVD.”
    I laughed as he flew out of the room. For just a moment, everything felt normal. And I wanted to keep it that way. At least for a little while.
    I woke the next morning on the couch. Bright sunshine streamed through the picture window. The scent of bacon filled the air. I rubbed my eyes, rolled over and saw Chloe sitting on my coffee table, staring at me.
    She wore a leather vest that revealed the sleeve of tattoos on each arm and a pair of faded jeans. Sparkly purple polish on her fingers and toes matched the shocking violet of her hair.
    “What did you do to your head?” she asked.
    “Who let you in here?” I asked. Did nobody respect my privacy anymore? The house was starting to feel like a dorm.
    “I came up with Samiel,” she said. “I can fix that, you know.”
    I rubbed my hand over my hair. The thought of Chloe near my head with scissors was quite terrifying.
    “Really, I can’t stand to look at you like that,” she said. “It’ll put me off my breakfast. Come on.”
    She grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet. I thought I was brusque.
    “Are you staying for whatever Samiel’s cooking, then?” I asked.
    She pulled me into the bathroom and lowered the toilet seat lid. “Sit.”
    I didn’t have the energy to argue with her. Besides, it didn’t seem that arguing would do any good. Chloe was like a force of nature. I could see why Samiel was so disconcerted by her.
    She took the scissors from the cabinet and began to snip here and there. Every once in a while she would tell me to move my head this way or that. I closed my eyes and hoped I wouldn’t end up looking like G.I. Jane.
    “There,” she said with a satisfied tone in her voice. “Look.”
    I stood, a little afraid, and looked in the mirror. And was pleasantly surprised.
    She’d shaped the hacked-off mess