part of you knows that. I think that part sent her away from you for a damned good reason. Take this seriously, Harry.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’ll . . . try. This stuff keeps catching me off guard.”
“Nature of the beast. You’ve always been good at keeping things right between the two of you, even though she’s carrying a torch the size of a building. I admire you for that. I’d hate to see it come apart.”
I rubbed at my eyes. My brother was right. I’d been forcing myself to look away from Molly all morning. That had never been an issue before. That was part of Winter, too—hunger and lust, a need for heat in the darkness. It had driven Lloyd Slate, just as it had several other Winter Knights over the years.
It had driven them insane.
I had to learn to recognize that influence before someone got hurt.
“Yeah, okay,” I said. “When I get done sprinting from one forest fire to the next, I’ll . . . I’ll figure something out. Until then, feel free to slap me around a bit if you think I need it.”
Thomas nodded very seriously, but his eyes sparkled. “I’m your brother. I pretty much always feel free to do that.”
“Heh,” I said. “I’d like to see you . . .”
I trailed off, glancing at Mac, who was staring at the door to the pub, frowning. I followed his gaze. The glass on the top half of the door was faceted and partly frosted, but it was clear enough to give you a blurry image of whoever was standing outside the door. Or at least, it would have been if the exterior hadn’t been blanketed by a thick grey mist.
Thomas noticed me, and looked. “Huh,” he said. “Uh. Doesn’t the fog usually burn off in the morning?”
“We didn’t have any this morning,” I said.
“So . . .” Thomas drawled. “That isn’t right.”
“No,” I said. “No, it isn’t.”
There just weren’t all that many reasons someone would blanket an area with mist—to conceal an approach. We both stood up and faced the door.
Behind us, Mac reached under the bar and came out with a pistol-grip shotgun made of black composite material. It had a folding stock and barely enough of a barrel to qualify as a hunting piece.
“This is crazy,” Thomas said. “Nobody attacks Mac’s. It’s neutral ground.”
“What about these Fomor I’ve heard about?”
“Not even them,” Thomas said. “Every time they’ve gotten close to this place, the BFS came down on them like an avalanche. It’s practically the only thing they’ve really agreed on.”
I blanked for a second and then said, “Oh, Brighter Future Society.”
“It isn’t the faeries, is it?” Thomas asked.
“They’re called the Unseelie Accords,” I said. “Winter equals Unseelie. Anyone in Winter who violated Mab’s treaty would be thrilled to die before she was through with them.”
“Summer, then?”
“It isn’t noon yet,” I said.
The sounds of the city outside had vanished. An unnatural hush fell. I could hear three people breathing a little harder than they normally would, a creaky ceiling fan, and that was about it.
“Definitely magic,” I said. “Someone doesn’t want anybody seeing or hearing what happens in here.”
There was a sharp sound, a sudden motion, and a stone sailed through one of the faceted panes of glass on the door. Thomas produced his pistol, and Mac’s shotgun snapped up to his shoulder. Some broken glass tinkled to the floor, and the stone tumbled down and bounced off of my foot before it came to rest on the floor. It was a rounded piece of glassy black obsidian about the size of an egg.
Tendrils of mist came through the broken pane of glass, and the stone on the floor abruptly quivered and began to buzz. Thomas and I both took several wary steps away from it, but the buzzing increased and warped until it became an eerie, quavering voice, like something you’d hear on an old, worn-out vinyl record.
“Sssssend out the wizzzzard,” it hummed, each word slow and drawn-out. “Sssssend him to ussssss and all othersssss may ssssstay.”
“I know a good place for you to pound sand, you gutless fu—” Thomas began helpfully.
I held up a hand. “No,” I told him quietly. “Wait.”
“For what?”
“This is neutral territory,” I said in a voice pitched to carry outside the door. “If you want to talk, come on in. You won’t be attacked.”
“Sssssend him to usssss.”
That wasn’t creepy or anything. “My schedule is kind of full today,” I called. “How’s next Tuesday for you?”
“Thrice we asssssk