Jonathan blinked at me. “Isn’t that what I just said?”
“I think I need to sit down.”
To my surprise, one of the fey brought me over a chair.
I took it, because this was so surreal, nothing surprised me anymore.
“So, I’m dead,” Jonathan continued, like this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having. “But I’m still useful. I did a great deal for the Svarestri royal house, and I can do much more. These idiots have the device, so I can do the operation as soon as you find the girl. Plus, you know what I’ve made here.” And no, we didn’t, but then, he wasn’t talking to us anymore. His eyes had slid over to Efridis, who was standing there, as still as a statue. “I can give it to you instead of him. I can hand you your husband’s throne; the thrones of all the great houses of Faerie. I can give you honor, fame, renown for the ages—anything you want.
“And all I want in return,” he said, looking at Louis-Cesare. “Is him.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Dory, Hong Kong
“Why?” I said, getting in Jonathan’s face. “What do you need with him? You have all the magic that anyone could possibly want—”
“Caveat: it’s not life magic,” he said pedantically. “It runs things, not people, but I see your point. I could buy all the life magic I want with what I’ve collected here.”
“Then why do you want him?”
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Why do you think? I want his body.”
Louis-Cesare shifted slightly, but he made no other sign that he’d heard. I, on the other hand, had had enough. I slugged Jonathan, as hard as I could, right across the face. It was fortunate for Efridis that she was no longer holding his head, or the force might have broken her wrist. It was fortunate for him that he was already dead, or he likely would have been.
“You stupid bitch!” He spit out three teeth, but there was no other sign that anything had happened. No blood, no discoloration, no swelling. It was eerily similar to hitting a side of meat. “I think you broke my jaw!”
“I’m going to break a lot more than that!”
“Why?” He looked genuinely confused. “You asked a question; I answered it. It’s not like I don’t need one. Look at me! And his will never age.”
“What?” I said, confused myself now.
Jonathan looked at me. “Are you slow?”
“What?”
“Yes, I can see that you are. Okay, let’s see what I can do here.” He pointed at himself. “Me dead. Body fall apart. Need new one. He,” a finger pointed at Louis-Cesare, “has immortal body. Me take, live forever. Do you get it now? Or do I need to draw you a picture?”
I just stared at him for a moment. And then I started to hit him again, but Louis-Cesare pulled me back. I made him work for it, because I really, really—
“That’s why you were doing your experiments on the fey,” Louis-Cesare said. “They are body and soul combined, like vampires. You thought, if you could control one of them, you could control me.”
Jonathan nodded. He didn’t smile; he probably couldn’t right now. But he seemed vaguely pleased that someone was following his logic.
“Yes, exactly. I am—or was, before my recent, unfortunate demise—over nine hundred years old. Do you have any idea how much magic it requires to stay alive at that age? Let me clue you in—it’s a lot. It makes you have to do all kinds of things you don’t want to do, because if you don’t, you just stop living. You can’t spend your time on your experiments, like you’d prefer, because you’re constantly scrounging around for new sources of magic. And making deals with people to get it that you can’t get out of afterwards. It’s a lot like being in jail—
“Or in a loveless marriage to a monster.”
He glanced at Efridis. She looked back, expressionless. He frowned.
“Anyway, I thought, wouldn’t it be nice if I could have a body that just keeps going? Drink a little blood now and again, and its all good. I became fascinated with your body when I held you captive briefly,” he told Louis-Cesare. “So handsome, so strong, so sturdy. I told you I’d have you one day, and now I know how. I can’t control the fey; they’re not human enough. But you—I think I’ve finally figured out how to take you.