O’Brian said, “What was that?”
“
Is
that,” Doyle said.
“What?” she asked.
The reporters parted like a curtain. They simply didn’t want to be near whatever was walking between them. The Fear Dearg walked toward us grinning his snaggletoothed grin. I’d been right; it was an evil grin. His enjoyment of the reporters’ fear showed in his face and the jaunty roll of his walk.
He came to stand in front of us, and then went down on one knee before us. “My queen,” he said.
A camera flashed, freezing the image for tomorrow’s news, or tonight’s. The Fear Dearg looked in the direction of the flash and there was a yell, then a man went running down the sidewalk. His many cameras jangled as he raced away screaming, as if all the devil’s Dandy Dogs were chasing him.
The other reporters took a collective step back. The Fear Dearg gave an evil chuckle, and just the sound of it was enough to make me break out in goose bumps. If I’d been alone on some dark road it would have been terrifying.
“You must practice that laugh,” I said. “It’s positively evil.”
He grinned up at me. “A fey likes to know his work is appreciated, my queen.”
A reporter called out in a shaking voice, “He called you his queen. Does that mean you did keep the throne?”
The Fear Dearg got to his feet and bounced at them, hands up, and said, “Boo!” The reporters fled on that side. He made a move toward the other group, but most of them backed away, hands held out, as if to show that they meant no harm.
One woman asked in a breathless voice, “Meredith, are you queen of the Unseelie Court?”
“No,” I answered.
The Fear Dearg looked at me. “Shall I tell her the crown that sat upon your head first?”
“Not here,” Doyle said.
The Fear Dearg glared up at him. “I did not ask you, Darkness. If we were kin, then it would be different, but I owe you nothing, only her.”
I realized that Doyle refusing to acknowledge that his ancestry was similar to the Fear Dearg’s had insulted the fey.
Doyle seemed to figure it out then too, because he said, “I do not hide my mixed heritage, Fear Dearg. I only meant that I had none of your blood in my veins, which is only truth.”
“Ay, but you’ve had our blood on your sword, haven’t you? Before you were the Queen’s Darkness, before you were Nudons and healed at your magic spring, you were other things, other names.” The Fear Dearg lowered his voice with each word, until the remaining reporters began to come closer trying to hear. I had known that Doyle had been something before he was worshipped as a god, and that he had not sprung full grown at the side of Queen Andais, but I had never asked. The older of the sidhe did not like to talk about the time before, when our people were greater.
The Fear Dearg whirled and jumped at the reporters with a loud “Hah!” They ran, some falling down and others trampling them underfoot in a mad panic to be away from him. The ones on the ground got up and raced after the others.
O’Brian said, “It’s not strictly legal to use magic on the press.”
The Fear Dearg cocked his head to one side like a bird that has spied a worm. The look made O’Brian swallow a little harder, but with my shields around her she held her ground. “And how would you have moved them, girlie?”
“Officer O’Brian,” she said.
He grinned at her, and I felt her flinch, but she didn’t move back. It earned her a point for bravery, but I wasn’t certain that taunting him after he’d shown such obvious sexual interest in her during Bittersweet’s questioning was a good idea. Sometimes a little fear is a wise thing.
He started to invade her personal space, and I stepped between them. “What do you want, Fear Dearg? I appreciate the help, I do, but you did not do it out of the goodness of your heart.”
He leered at O’Brian, then turned the leer to me. It didn’t bother me. “I have no goodness in my heart, my queen, only
“
Is
that,” Doyle said.
“What?” she asked.
The reporters parted like a curtain. They simply didn’t want to be near whatever was walking between them. The Fear Dearg walked toward us grinning his snaggletoothed grin. I’d been right; it was an evil grin. His enjoyment of the reporters’ fear showed in his face and the jaunty roll of his walk.
He came to stand in front of us, and then went down on one knee before us. “My queen,” he said.
A camera flashed, freezing the image for tomorrow’s news, or tonight’s. The Fear Dearg looked in the direction of the flash and there was a yell, then a man went running down the sidewalk. His many cameras jangled as he raced away screaming, as if all the devil’s Dandy Dogs were chasing him.
The other reporters took a collective step back. The Fear Dearg gave an evil chuckle, and just the sound of it was enough to make me break out in goose bumps. If I’d been alone on some dark road it would have been terrifying.
“You must practice that laugh,” I said. “It’s positively evil.”
He grinned up at me. “A fey likes to know his work is appreciated, my queen.”
A reporter called out in a shaking voice, “He called you his queen. Does that mean you did keep the throne?”
The Fear Dearg got to his feet and bounced at them, hands up, and said, “Boo!” The reporters fled on that side. He made a move toward the other group, but most of them backed away, hands held out, as if to show that they meant no harm.
One woman asked in a breathless voice, “Meredith, are you queen of the Unseelie Court?”
“No,” I answered.
The Fear Dearg looked at me. “Shall I tell her the crown that sat upon your head first?”
“Not here,” Doyle said.
The Fear Dearg glared up at him. “I did not ask you, Darkness. If we were kin, then it would be different, but I owe you nothing, only her.”
I realized that Doyle refusing to acknowledge that his ancestry was similar to the Fear Dearg’s had insulted the fey.
Doyle seemed to figure it out then too, because he said, “I do not hide my mixed heritage, Fear Dearg. I only meant that I had none of your blood in my veins, which is only truth.”
“Ay, but you’ve had our blood on your sword, haven’t you? Before you were the Queen’s Darkness, before you were Nudons and healed at your magic spring, you were other things, other names.” The Fear Dearg lowered his voice with each word, until the remaining reporters began to come closer trying to hear. I had known that Doyle had been something before he was worshipped as a god, and that he had not sprung full grown at the side of Queen Andais, but I had never asked. The older of the sidhe did not like to talk about the time before, when our people were greater.
The Fear Dearg whirled and jumped at the reporters with a loud “Hah!” They ran, some falling down and others trampling them underfoot in a mad panic to be away from him. The ones on the ground got up and raced after the others.
O’Brian said, “It’s not strictly legal to use magic on the press.”
The Fear Dearg cocked his head to one side like a bird that has spied a worm. The look made O’Brian swallow a little harder, but with my shields around her she held her ground. “And how would you have moved them, girlie?”
“Officer O’Brian,” she said.
He grinned at her, and I felt her flinch, but she didn’t move back. It earned her a point for bravery, but I wasn’t certain that taunting him after he’d shown such obvious sexual interest in her during Bittersweet’s questioning was a good idea. Sometimes a little fear is a wise thing.
He started to invade her personal space, and I stepped between them. “What do you want, Fear Dearg? I appreciate the help, I do, but you did not do it out of the goodness of your heart.”
He leered at O’Brian, then turned the leer to me. It didn’t bother me. “I have no goodness in my heart, my queen, only
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