Biting Cold - By Chloe Neill Page 0,90

barely managing to stand, but Claudia had made it her home. I carefully took the spiral stone staircase to the door at the top, stopping at the ornate tower door.

Steeling myself, I knocked twice.

It opened, and a mercenary fairy stared out. “Yes?”

The last time I’d done this, Jonah had spoken in Gaelic to request admission to see Claudia. I didn’t have any such skills, so English would have to do.

“I would like to speak with Claudia, if she’d allow it.”

The door thumped closed, pushing a puff of dust and wood rot into my face. I brushed off my cheeks just as it opened again.

“Briefly,” the fairy said with a snarl, stepping back to allow me in.

The room in which Claudia lived was round and magically enhanced, filling a space significantly larger than the tower’s appearance outside would have let on. It was simply furnished and smelled of a garden’s worth of flowers.

Claudia, her long, strawberry blond hair in a loose braid down her back, sat at a round table on one side of the room. She wore a dress of pale pink and a leafy crown, and she glanced over her shoulder as I walked inside.

“Bloodletter,” she said, as much a hiss as a greeting.

“Madam,” I said.

She rose from her table and walked toward me, her blue eyes tilted in curiosity. “You visit our abode again. Why?”

“I understand you know Dominic, the messenger, and I wondered if you’d tell me about him.”

She laughed, the sound simultaneously whimsical and ancient. “Who are you to inquire about such things? You are a child, and a bloodletter at that.”

“He is hurting people,” I said. “I’m trying to find a way to stop him.”

That was precisely the wrong thing to say. Her smile faded, and the Queen of the Fae strode toward me with grim determination on her face. Before I could move out of the way, she slapped me.

“Who are you, that you believe you have the right to control the destiny of a messenger?”

My cheek burning, I forced myself to look back at her—and not to push her away. She was too testy, and she’d lured me toward violence before.

“I am Sentinel of my House and a protector of this city,” I said. “He threatens those within it. That gives me the right to question and, if necessary, to act.”

“You know nothing,” she spat out, turning on her heel and pacing a few feet away. She turned back again, shoulders back and breasts arched forward, as if proving her femininity to me.

“Dominic is under my protection, and so he will stay. If you seek to harm him, you seek to harm me and mine. No such thing will be allowed.” She gave me a disdainful look. “You are no protector. You are a poppet with a pointy stick and the arrogance to match. Leave this place. If you deserve justice, he will find you, and you will find no more voice for your threats.”

The sword’s point suddenly at my lower back punctuated her dismissal. I was escorted back to the door and into the stairwell, and the door was slammed shut behind me again.

Not exactly the most productive meeting I’d ever attended, but one thing was for sure—Claudia knew Dominic. Had they been lovers? That seemed likely. Partners? Also possible. Details were thin on the ground, but I had a sinking feeling this wasn’t the last time I’d spend quality time with the fairy queen.

My mood not even slightly improved, I parked the car and nodded at the fairies before heading into Cadogan House. I found Lindsey on her way upstairs from the basement.

“Hey, you. You all right?” She frowned. “You look weird.”

“I’m okay. Tough night.”

She nodded. “Have you heard about the cops?”

I nodded. “On the radio.”

“Rough thing to hear.”

“I wasn’t thrilled,” I agreed. “It makes me feel pretty useless.”

“What could you have done? If they weren’t smart enough to get protection, there’s nothing that could keep Dominic from them.”

I shrugged. I understood the argument; it just didn’t make me feel any better. I still felt like I’d let the city down, and that was a tough burden to bear.

“Did you learn anything helpful at Mallory’s?”

“Not really. Catcher and Jeff are going to look into Tate’s history.” I told her what I’d learned from Claudia, which wasn’t much. “What are you up to?”

“It’s end of shift. The girls are waiting upstairs with a pizza. Are you hungry? You look like you could use a bite.”

When didn’t I look like that? In all

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