Fever 4 - DreamFever (30 page)

  "I don't know."

   I fidgeted. Barrons admitting to ignorance disturbed me as much as the sound coming
from the stones.

   I reached out to touch one of them. As my hand passed above it, its banked glow
flared so bright it hurt my eyes. I drew my hand back.

  "Interesting," Barrons murmured. "Are you up for an experiment?"

  I looked at him sharply. "You want to try to corner the Book with three." To study it,
see how it might react and if anything further would be revealed.

  "You game?"

  I considered it a moment, remembering what had happened the last time he and I had
gone chasing the Book.

  The thing had abruptly changed course and headed straight for us. It had gotten
Barrons in its thrall. It had gone for Barrons, not me. There was nothing wrong with me.
I was fine. I was the same Mac I'd always been. Daddy himself had said that I was as
good as they came. Everybody knew how wise Jack Lane was. "Sure," I said.

   While he gathered the stones and began wrapping them in velvet cloths, I stared at the
Unseelie mirror. It had been standing right beneath my nose in his study for months, but
I'd never once sensed its Fae presence and that it was part of a vast network of Unseelie
Hallows. It was closed now, masquerading as a perfectly normal mirror.

  "How does it work?" I asked.

  He continued wrapping the stones in silence.

   "Oh, come on," I said impatiently. "It's not like I'm trying to pry into your head to
uncover any of your precious secrets. The Fae are screwing up my planet and I'm going
to kick their asses off it. All knowledge, like weapons--good. So, spill."

   He didn't look up from what he was doing, but I could see a faint smile playing at his
lips.

  "Sometimes I think you refuse to tell me things just to irritate me."

  "But you never do anything just to irritate me," he said dryly.

  "Not when it involves something that might be important. What if I get trapped
somewhere with no escape but a Silver? I wouldn't even know how to use it."

  "You think you've got the balls to step into one of those things?"

  "You might be surprised," I said coolly.

  "Not if you do everything like you fuck."

  I wasn't going to let him discombobulate me by bringing up sex. "I want to learn,
Barrons. Teach me. If I knew a fraction of what you know, my odds of surviving would
be way higher."

  "Perhaps you'd no longer want to."

  "Would you just cooperate?" I said, exasperated.

  "I do not know that word," he mocked in falsetto.

  "I'm trying to arm myself so I can fight like I fuck," I snapped. "But you refuse to
help." I hated it when he reminded me of when I'd been Pri-ya.

  "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to say that word again, Ms. Lane.
Time was, you had no reservations. `Fuck me, Jericho Barrons,' you'd say. Morning,
noon, and night."

  There are two kinds of verbal honey a Southern woman can slather on her words
when she feels like it: the kind that attracts flies, melts men's hearts, and firms up all
their other parts, or the kind that makes a man want to curl up and die. I employed the

latter. "I didn't know getting you to talk was so easy, or I'd have said it five minutes
ago. Fuck you, Jericho Barrons."

 He raised his head and laughed, teeth flashing white in his face. I dug my nails into
my palms.

  "The Silvers," he said, when he'd stopped laughing, "once numbered in the tens of
thousands, but some say they're now infinite. Fae things tend to--"

  "I know. Take on a life of their own. Change, evolve in strange ways."

  "When the Seelie King first made them--"

  "Unseelie King," I corrected.

  "He was Seelie first. And quit interrupting me if you want me to keep talking. When
the Seelie King first made them, they formed a network of absolute precision and
predictability. It was a brilliant invention. They were the Fae's first method of travel
between dimensions. Entering one of them instantly deposited you in the Hall of All
Days."

  "What's the Hall of All Days?"

   "The Hall is ... well, think of it as an airport, the main arrival and departure point of
the entire network. It's lined with mirrors that connect to mirrors on other worlds, in
countless other dimensions and times. One can stand in the Hall, examine the individual
glasses, and choose from hundreds of thousands of places to go. It was the Fae version
of a ... quantum travel agency."

  "V'lane told me the king originally created the Silvers for his concubine, not for other
Fae at all. He said the king created them so she could live inside the mirrors, never
aging, and have other worlds to explore until he found a way to make her Fae like him."
I wondered again what had happened to V'lane earlier this afternoon. Even though I
knew I couldn't count on it, I felt a little naked without his name in my tongue.

   "Did he also tell you that when the queen felt the power of the king's creation spring
into existence, she demanded to know what he'd done, and that, to allay her suspicions
because she hated his concubine so much, he had to pretend he'd made the Silvers as a
gift for her?"

  "V'lane said the king gave the queen only part of them."

   "Unfortunately, he had to give the queen the nexus that contained the Hall of All
Days. His concubine got only a small portion of what he'd made for her, sealed off from
the rest. To compensate, he built his concubine the fantastical White Mansion, high on a
hill, a house of infinite rooms, terraces, and gardens. He made that part of the Silvers
accessible only through mirrors that hung in his own private chambers."

  "So there are two separate parts to the Silvers." This was a lot to absorb. "One is a
collection of possibly infinite mirrors that connect to other dimensions, worlds, and

times, from the main `airport' in the Hall of All Days. The other is a sealed-off smaller
network that's where the concubine lived. I guess once she died, that part was never
used again," I mused. The Silvers were fascinating stuff. I couldn't imagine being able
to step inside a mirror and instantly be transported to some other world or time.

  "V'lane told you a lot." Barrons sounded irritated.

  "He tells me more than you do. Makes me wonder who to trust."

   "Motto to live by: Never trust a fairy. Did he tell you how the king's concubine
died?"

  "He said she hated what the king had become so much that she left him the only way
she could. By ending her own life."

  "Did he bother pointing out that everything the king had done, he'd done for her? Did
she think of that before she decided to kill herself? Did it ever occur to her that
sometimes a willingness to turn dark for someone else might just be a fucking virtue?"

  "It doesn't sound like he went dark for her. It sounds like he was ticked off that she
was going to die and willing to do anything to keep her."

  "Perspective, Ms. Lane. Get some."

   The Lord Master had said the same thing. "You think the concubine should have
appreciated that her lover turned into an obsessed jackass and overlooked the horrific
results of his experiments? Maybe if instead of spending all his time--wasn't it tens of
thousands of years she waited?--trying to make her live forever, he'd just loved her for
the mortal lifetime she had, she'd have been happy!"

  Barrons looked at me sharply. "The Silvers are a mess now," he continued abruptly.
"There's nothing predictable about them."

  "Because Cruce cursed them. Who exactly is Cruce?" I kept hearing his name, but
that was all. I didn't even know whether he was Seelie or Unseelie. "And what was the
curse?"

   "Irrelevant. He's dead." Barrons placed the stones in a black leather pouch covered
with delicately glistening runes and tied it with a leather drawstring. The moment he
sealed the bag, the chiming ceased and the stones fell silent. "But his curse will never
die. It corrupted the Silvers irrevocably. What was once an easily navigated network is
now a place of complete chaos. Now some Silvers take you to the Hall, but others don't.
Worlds and dimensions fractured and are splintered with IFPs. Some of the main
mirrors shattered, others sprang into existence where they were never supposed to be.
Many of the two-way Silvers in the Hall are now one-way tickets to wastelands. The
looking glasses themselves changed, casting illusory reflections. The Hall of All Days
collided with the concubine's realm, with parts of Faery, and some of it even crashed
into the Dreaming."

  "The Dreaming!" I exclaimed. "There's actually a Fae realm with that name?"

   "It doesn't belong to the Fae. The Dreaming is far older and belongs to no one. It's
where all hopes, fantasies, illusions, and nightmares of sentient beings come to be or go
to rest, whichever you prefer to believe. Complicating things further, Cruce's curse
caused tears in the walls of the Unseelie prison, and now the Silvers connect to the
prison, as well."

  "Well, then, why haven't the Unseelie escaped before?"

   "Some have. But the Unseelie prison is so enormous that few discovered the rifts in
the walls, and the Silvers are so impossible to navigate that only a handful ever
managed to find their way into your world. One could stay lost inside the network of the
Silvers forever. They're no longer a realm of the present, but hold the residue of the
past. Some say they're also projections of all the possibles, that they really have become
the Hall of All Days that have ever been and ever will be. There are no assurances. The
Fae avoid them completely."

  "But not you. And not the LM."

   "There are ways--Druid arts that can seal off portions of the Silvers if used wisely,
affording a degree of control over temporary transport within a limited space.
Depending on the Silver you have to work with, it is not without ... discomfort. The
cold in some of them is difficult to bear."

  I knew that. I'd seen him step from it, coated with crystals of iced blood. I'd felt the
gust of icy soul-numbing air. "And you killed the woman you carried out of the Silver
why?" My voice was spun sugar on a knife's edge.

   "Because I wanted to." He matched my sugary lightness of tone. "Didn't expect that,
did you, Ms. Lane? Not only an answer but an incrimination, in your book. Come," he
said, and his dark gaze glittered with sudden impatience. "The night won't last forever."

  "What's the Unseelie prison like?" I wanted to know if it was the cold place I
sometimes went to in my dreams. If so, how could I possibly know of it?

  "Multiply the chill in my Silver by infinity."

  "But what does it look like?"

   "No sun. No grass. No life. Just cliffs and cliffs of ice. Cold. Darkness. Despair. The
air reeks of it. There are three colors there: white, black, and blue. The fabric of the
place lacks the necessary chemical compositions for any other colors to exist. Your skin
would be as white as bleached bones. Your eyes, dull black. Your lips, blue. Nothing
grows. There is only hunger without sustenance. Lust without satisfaction. Pain without
end. There are monsters there that have no desire to leave, because they are such
monsters."

  "How do you know all this?" I asked as we headed out back to, I assumed, select an
incredible car from Barrons' incredible collection.

  "Enough. Tell me, Ms. Lane, if you could go back to the day Alina was leaving for
Trinity and stop her, would you?"

    "Absolutely," I said without hesitation.

   "Knowing that this would all play out anyway? The Book was already loose. This
was going to happen whether or not she came to Dublin. Just a different variation on the
same destructive theme. Would you have kept her in Ashford to keep her alive, never
learned what you are, and most likely died in complete ignorance at the hands of some
Fae?"

  "Isn't there a third option?" I said irritably. "What's behind door number three?
Haven't you ever seen Let's Make a Deal?"

    He gave me a look.

    Obviously not.

    "What are we driving tonight?" I asked, as I reached for the doorknob.
 

I   am not riding that." There were times when I had to put my foot down with Barrons.
This was one of them.

    "Shut up and get on."

    If I'd shaken my head any more violently, my neck would have snapped.

    "On. Now."

    "In your dreams."

    Our "ride" was a Royal Hunter.

   Barrons had somehow gotten a Hunter to land in the alley between BB&B and the
garage--one of those terrifying beasts whose primary purpose was to eradicate my kind
from the face of the earth. Admittedly, it was one of the smaller ones--the size of a
narrow two-story house rather than a five-story apartment complex--and it wasn't
throwing off that massively deadly feel of the ones Jayne had shot at, but still, it was a
Royal Hunter, the caste responsible for murdering countless sidhe-seers for thousands
of years. And he expected me to touch it?

    I hadn't sensed it because it was somehow ... dampened.

   It crouched there, blacker than pitch, looking all Satanic, with leathery wings and
fiery eyes, horns and a forked tail. Its labored exhalations puffed gusts of smoke down

the alley into what used to be the biggest Dark Zone in the city. The space between the
bookstore and the garage was twenty degrees colder than the rest of the night.

  I reached inside my coat for my spear.

  "Don't you dare," said Barrons. "It's under my control."

  We stared at each other.

  "What did you have to offer a Hunter to get it to do this? How does one mercenary
pay another?"

  "You should know. How are your precious principles lately?"

  I scowled at him. After a moment, I released my spear.

  "It can cover the city far more quickly than we can in a car. Your ... IFPs, as you call
them, don't bother it, making it the wisest choice of transport."