“Did ya see her face?”

“How could I? All I saw was a big blue blur of bus as we whizzed past it, then nothing.”

“Was she ever wicked pissed! She really didn’t think I’d do it,” Dani said wonderingly, and I could tell she herself hadn’t been entirely sure she’d do it. Until she did, there was a chance Rowena might forgive her. Blame it all on me and take her back into the fold. There wasn’t anymore. Dani was persona non grata. There was no going back from this one.

“It was goin’ good, wasn’t it, Mac? I mean, I wasn’t just imagining it? The girls were listening to us and liking us?”

I nodded.

“Man, it went bad really fast.”

I nodded again.

We looked at each other for a long moment.

“Dude,” she said finally, “I think we’re outcasts.”

“Dude,” I agreed, with a sigh.

At ten-thirty that night, I was back in Dublin and headed for 939 Rêvemal Street.

I was pretty sure I’d found Chester’s.

There were three listings in the phone book under that name: a barbershop, a men’s clothing store, and a nightclub.

I’d opted for the nightclub because the advertisement had suited the voice of the man I’d spoken to on the phone. Upscale, classy, with a touch of the risqué, as if anything one might want was available for purchase there, if one had the right currency, walked the walk, and talked the talk.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a passing window and smiled. I was walking the walk. My hair was jet and a little wild. I’d moussed it and let it do what it wanted. My lipstick was red and glossy and matched my nails. I was wearing black leather from head to toe, not for the statement it made but for the practicality of it. With the right kind of leather, you can sponge off just about anything. Fabric isn’t blood-repellent.

There was energy in my step and fire in my eyes. I’d finally gotten some much needed sleep. Dani and I had holed up in a deserted house on the outskirts of Dublin until late afternoon, then headed out for food and supplies. It had felt strangely intimate and uncomfortable, occupying the residence of someone who’d either died in the riots on Halloween or fled Dublin, but we needed somewhere to stay and it seemed pointless not to take advantage of one of the tens of thousands of unoccupied homes.

Since both my MacHalos were back at the abbey, our first stop had been a sporting-goods store, where we built two new ones and stuffed backpacks with flashlights and batteries. Although the Shades seemed to have left Dublin, I wasn’t taking any chances.

Then we’d gone to the mall, where I dyed my hair in a public restroom, washed up, and changed. Dani had headed off for an electronics store, where I later found her sprawled in front of a computer, next to a small mountain of battery packs and a pile of DVDs. I toed a few of the DVDs out. My eyes widened. I glanced quickly at the computer screen. Fortunately for her, it wasn’t one of them. “Watch any of that porn,” I growled, “and I’m going to kick your petunia.”

She looked up. “Wicked-cool outfit, Mac!” Then she scowled. “I hunt and kill things. What does it matter what I watch? These eyeballs seen it all, dude.” She somehow managed to swagger while cross-legged on the floor.

“I don’t care how tough you think you are. You’re thirteen and there are limits. You’re not watching this stuff. And if you are, you’d better hide it from me, because if I catch you, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

She shoved the computer from her lap and bounded to her feet. “That’s ridiculous,” she spat, green eyes sparking. “I watch things die every day but I can’t watch people feck? You’re not the boss of me.” She grabbed her pack and began walking away.

“Those aren’t just people fecking, Dani. Those are hard-core.”

“So?” she sneered over her shoulder. “What were you a few days ago?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“So you gonna tell me what it was like? Being Pri-ya was all poetry and roses?”

There had been moments that had felt startlingly like that. Not with the Unseelie Princes. But later with Barrons. I crammed that thought into the padlocked box in my head where I keep all those things I can’t deal with. Soon I was going to have to sink the thing in concrete to keep it shut. “I’m not telling you not to watch people having sex, although I wish you’d wait a few years. I’m telling you to make better choices. Watch the soft-core stuff, the ones that show sex as something good.”

“Mac,” she said flatly, “get a grip. The world sucks. Ain’t no good left in it.”

“There’s good everywhere. You just have to look for it.” I nearly choked on my words. I sounded just like my daddy and was surprised I still believed what I’d said, after all I’d been through. Looked like the rainbow wasn’t entirely black.

She whirled on me, cheeks flushed, eyes furious. “Really? What? Name some of those good things for me, will you? Why don’t you tell me about ‘em? I got a great idea. Let’s make a list. Let’s write down all the wonderful things in the world. ‘Cause I been looking really hard lately, and I ain’t been seeing a fecking one!” Her hands were fisted and she was shaking.

It had taken me until I was twenty-two to be carved by tragedy. How old was Dani when its razor-sharp teeth drew first blood? She’d told me her mother was killed by the Fae six years ago, which would have made her seven at the time. Had she watched it happen? Was that how long she’d been with Rowena? What had the ruthless old woman been doing to her all that time? “What happened to you, Dani?” I said softly.

“You think you have the right to just ask me that? Like I’m gonna peel myself open and let you poke around inside me? Like you can pour me out like some little teapot, ‘cause you’re dangling me by my handle?”

“I’m not dangling you by any handle, Dani.”

“You’re trying to! Trying to force me to spill my secrets! Dump ‘em all over the place so once you know ‘em you can throw me away like a piece of trash, same as the Unseelie Princes did to you! Like some stupid fecking stupid fecker that shouldn’t have even been fecking born!”

I was stunned by the intensity of her reaction, baffled by the direction our conversation had taken. “I’m not trying to pry into you, and I would never throw you away. I care about you, you prickly little pain-in-the-butt porcupine. So buck up and deal with it. I worry about what you’ll become. Enough to fight with you about it. And I’m telling you, choose better movies, eat your vegetables, floss, and treat yourself with respect, because if you don’t, nobody else will. I care!”