Shadowfever - Moning Karen Marie (читать бесплатно книги без сокращений TXT) 📗

Half a Dani Daily flapped on a streetlamp in the chilly night breeze. I plucked it off, scanned it for the date AWC, and did some hasty calculations. If it had been posted today—which it probably hadn’t, considering its condition—the date was March 23. Maybe a week later.

I read it and smiled faintly. She’d taken the bull by the horns while I was gone. The kid feared nothing.

The bottom half had been torn off, but I didn’t need to see any more. I’d really just wanted to know the date. I’d missed her birthday. Chocolate on chocolate, she’d said. I’d planned to make her a cake myself. I’d throw a belated party for her, even if it was just the two of us.

Hardly something the Unseelie King would think about: birthday parties for humans.

“You might have all night, but some of us don’t,” Barrons growled over his shoulder.

I stuffed the paper in my pocket and hurried to catch up. We’d parked the Viper a block away. The queen wore a hooded cloak and was wrapped in blankets.

“You have all night tonight and tomorrow night and all eternity for that matter. So how long were you dead this time?” I asked, needling him.

The rattle moved in his throat.

I took a perverse pleasure in irritating him. “A day? Three? Five? What does it depend on? How badly you’re injured?”

“If I were you, Ms. Lane, I’d never bring that up again. You think you’re suddenly a major player because you went through that Silver—”

“I left Christian at the mirror. I found him in the prison,” I cut him off.

His mouth snapped shut, then, “Why the fuck does it always take you so long to tell me the important things?”

“Because there are always so many important things,” I said defensively. “Her hair’s dragging again.”

“Pick it up. My hands are full.”

“I’m not touching her.”

He shot me a look. “Issues much, Ms. Concubine?”

“She’s not even the real queen,” I said irritably. “Not the one that ruined the concubine’s life. I just don’t like Fae. I’m a sidhe-seer, remember?”

“Are you?”

“Why are you so pissed at me? It’s not my fault who I am. The only thing that’s my fault is what I choose to do with it.”

He gave me a sidelong glance that said, That might be the only intelligent thing you’ve said tonight.

I looked past him to the wrecked facade of Chester’s ahead, and for a moment it looked eerily like a ruin of standing stones, black against a blue-black sky, from a faraway time and another place. A full moon hung above it, wearing a halo of crimson, round fat face splattered with craters of blood. More Fae changes in our world.

“When you get inside, go to the stairs and one of them will escort you up. Go directly to the stairs,” he said pointedly. “Try not to get in trouble or cause a riot on the way.”

“I don’t think that’s a fair statement. Life isn’t always chaotic around me.”

“Like when isn’t it?”

“Like when I’m …” I thought a minute. “Alone,” I finished pissily. “Or asleep.” I didn’t ask about my parents. It felt … wrong, as if I no longer had any right to ask questions about Jack and Rainey Lane. It made my heart hurt. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll meet you inside.”

“Because if I knew whatever secret back entrance you’re about to use,” I said sarcastically, “I might broadcast it to all the Fae, is that it?” He trusted me even less now that he thought I was the king’s mortal lover. How would he treat me if he thought I was the Big Bad himself?

“Move it, Ms. Lane,” was all he said.

I descended into the belly of the whale to find it crammed to the gills with humans and Unseelie—standing room only at Chester’s tonight.

I couldn’t be the king. These would be my “children.” I didn’t feel remotely paternal. I felt homicidal. That sealed it. I was human. I had no idea why the mirror had let me through, but eventually I’d figure it out.

I glanced around, shocked. Things had changed while I’d been gone. The world just kept morphing into something new without me.

There were Seelie in Chester’s now, too. Not many, and it didn’t look like they were getting the warmest welcome from the Unseelie, but I’d already spotted a dozen, and the humans were going crazy over them. Two of those horrid little monsters that made you laugh yourself to death were dive-bombing the crowd, clutching tiny drinks that sloshed over the rims as they flew. Three of those blinding-light trailers were whizzing through the masses. In a cage suspended from the ceiling, naked men danced, writhing in sexual ecstasy, fanned by ethereal, gossamer-winged nymphs.

I continued scanning the club and stiffened. On an elevated platform, in the sub-club that catered to those with a taste for very young humans, stood the golden god who’d comforted Dree’lia when V’lane had taken her mouth away.

It was all I could do not to march over there, stab him with my spear, and denounce V’lane as a traitor.

Then I had a better idea.

I pushed through the crowd, pulled myself up next to him, and said, “Hey, remember me?”

He ignored me. I imagined he heard that a lot if he’d been coming here awhile. I stood beside him, looking out over the sea of heads.

“I’m the woman that was with Darroc the night we met in the street. I need you to summon V’lane.”

The golden god’s head swiveled. Disdain stamped his immortal features. “Summon. V’lane. Those two words do not go together in any language, human.”

“I had his name in my tongue until Barrons sucked it out. I need him. Now.” This golden god might have disconcerted me once, but I had a spear in my holster and a black secret in my heart, and nothing disconcerted me anymore. I wanted V’lane here, now. He had a few things to answer for.

“V’lane did not give you his name.”

“On multiple occasions. And his fury with you will know no bounds if he learns I asked you to get him for me and you refused.”

He regarded me in stony silence.

I shrugged. “Fine. Your call. Just remember what he did to Dree’lia.” I turned and walked away.

He was in front of me.

“Hey, what the fuck ya think ya doing? No sifting in the club!” someone cried. The golden god jerked and disentangled himself from the arm that he’d materialized around. It seemed to slide from his body, as if the section containing it had abruptly become energy, not matter.

The guy the arm belonged to was young, with a faux-hawk, a petulant expression, and twitchy, restless eyes. He clutched his offended appendage, rubbing it as if it had gone to sleep. Then he seemed to see what had just sifted in next to him and his eyes rounded almost comically.

A drink appeared in the golden god’s hand. He offered it to the guy with a murmured regret. “I did not mean to break the rules of the club. Your arm will be fine in a moment.”