Bloodfever

I watched in speechless horror at the tableau that played out before my eyes.

After a few interminable minutes, the pain began to ebb and I dropped my chin in the sour dark puddle, panting from the aftermath of agony.

After a few more minutes, I managed to crawl from the puddle and drag myself back up onto the sidewalk, where I threw up until nothing was left.

I knew now where the Sinsar Dubh was.

And I knew who was moving it around.

As momentous and mind-boggling as that information was, it wasn’t my primary concern at the moment.

I’d been within fifty yards of the Dark Book, closer to it than I’d ever been before, I’d seen it with my own eyes—and I hadn’t passed out.

I wonder, Barrons had said, dilute the opposite, would it still repel?

The Sinsar Dubh had existed for a million years and although, according to Barrons, Fae things change in subtle ways over time, I was quite certain it was never going to get any nicer. In fact, I had no doubt it would only continue to grow consistently more evil.

Previously it had repelled me so violently that it had knocked me out within seconds. Tonight I had remained conscious the entire time, closer to it than ever before, and that could mean only one thing.

What had changed was me.