Claimed by Shadow Page 0,92
of frustration and tried to smash the bottle on the table, but it was padded and the glass bounced off.
Obviously, he was not going to be coherent until he'd had a drink. "Give that to me," I said impatiently, and he handed it over, but his eyes never left the dark brown bottle. I opened it on the metal underside of the cot and he snatched it out of my hand, gulping half the contents at one time.
"Oh, my God," he said reverently, falling to his knees. "Oh Jaysus.”
I was about to tell him to stop the melodrama when Mac interrupted with a report. "There's nothing wrong with your ward, so it must be the geis. They tend to complicate things, with the more powerful spells causing the most interference. And the dúthracht is about the strongest there is.”
"But my ward worked before, and the spell was cast when I was eleven," I protested.
"That could have been why you got away with it, because you were too young for the geis to be active. This particular ward is designed to fit over your aura like a glove does a hand, but it needs a stable field to keep a proper grip. An active geis is interpreted as a serious threat, and your natural defenses go into constant turmoil, trying to reject the invader. But, by doing so, they make it impossible for your artificial protection to do its job.”
Light dawned. "That's why Pritkin was freaking out at Miranda. He knew if she didn't remove the geis, he couldn't get that tattoo.”
I was immediately sorry I'd said anything, since Mac demanded the whole story and seemed to find the idea of a small, female gargoyle getting the best of Pritkin hysterically funny. I finally managed to get him back on track, but he didn't tell me anything I wanted to hear. "It's like trying to put a glove on a small, squirming child, Cassie-which is why kids usually get mittens. It's too damn much trouble to get them dressed otherwise." Mac sounded like he knew, and I briefly wondered whether he had a family. Possibly there were people who would mourn him if Pritkin got him killed.
"So you can't fix it?”
"I'm sorry, Cassie. Get rid of the geis, and I can have it running in no time. Otherwise-”
"I'm screwed.”
"It looks that way.”
As if in comment on the way my day was going, Billy took that moment to throw up beer all over the floor in front of my sneakers. I snatched my feet back just in time. "Billy! What is the matter with you?”
He groaned and sat up. "Stomach cramps," he gasped. I sighed and went to get him a glass of water.
"Sip it," I warned. "You have a brand-new stomach. Nobody gives babies beer, so I guess you don't get any, either." I took the bottle away, and he groaned louder.
"Have a heart, Cass!”
I held the bottle up and shook it, letting the amber liquid slosh against the sides. "Get off your backside and help me with Tomas and maybe I'll give it to you.”
"There's a pub in the town where we're headed," Marlowe said mildly.
"How do you know where we're going?" I asked suspiciously.
"Because we aren't spoiled for choice." Billy was regarding the vamp as if he'd just announced that he'd won the lottery. "Beer, pretty girls-of a sort-and excellent music, as I recall.”
Billy jumped up as if propelled out of a canon. "Where's that poor unfortunate, then? We should get the lad somewhere safe so he can rest and heal," he added piously.
"What town?" I asked Marlowe.
"The local village and castle are populated by Dark Fey, a few of whom have done favors for my spies in the past. That has primarily taken the form of intelligence gathering-they spy on the Light Fey and my contacts among the Light spy on them. But occasionally they have helped out agents in distress-for a fee, of course.”
"You spy on the Fey?" I asked in surprise.
Marlowe smiled. "I spy on everyone. It's my job.”
"Discuss this later," Pritkin said, poking his head in through the curtain. The golem stood next to him calmly enough, but it flinched when the curtain brushed against its arm. "If the Dark Fey find us before we come to an understanding-”
"Point taken," Marlowe murmured. Together, he and Billy got Tomas out from under the table and into a makeshift sling made out of the cot blanket. I didn't believe Marlowe when he swore the Fey sun didn't