The tall windows on the sides of the building, framed by matching columns and delicate wrought-iron latticework, didn’t have a single crack, and there were no chips on the pillars. The foundation was solid, strong. Powerful spotlights mounted on the rooftop, controlled by timers, would be coming on any minute now. The lighted sign in the old-fashioned green-tinted windows winked OPEN.
The Dark Zone might be empty, but this place would always stand as a bastion of light, as long as it was mine. I’d needed it. It had saved me. I loved this place.
And the man.
And there was the rub.
It had been days since the showdown beneath the abbey, and we still hadn’t talked about it.
After the king left, we’d all just kind of looked at each other and headed for the door, as if we couldn’t get back to where we felt safe and comfortable fast enough.
Mom and Dad took one look at Barrons and me and decided to go back to Chester’s. I’ve got the smartest, coolest parents. Barrons and I went back to the bookstore, straight to bed. We’d gotten out only when near starvation had forced us.
The finale hadn’t been perfect and certainly not what I’d expected last fall, when we were making our desperate plans to keep the walls up between the realms of Fae and man.
The Sinsar Dubh had been destroyed.
But in the way of Fae things, another had come into being.
The sidhe-seers were furious that they’d been left in charge of the new one, but it’s hard to argue with an absentee king.
Kat had stepped up to the plate, taking over for Rowena, agreeing to lead until the abbey was cleared of Shades and their numbers were partially restored, at which time they would revert to a democratic vote and rebuild the Haven.
I intended to snag a spot in that inner sanctum, where I would lobby for significant changes—first and foremost that we permanently and irrevocably seal the cavern where the Sinsar Dubh was currently frozen in its much-too-exquisite temptation. Line it with iron. Pump it full of concrete.
The Keltar had returned to Scotland, taking Christian with them, but none of us believed we’d seen the last of them.
Before Halloween, we’d all thought life might one day get back to normal. Those days were gone forever.
We’d lost nearly half the world’s population—more than three billion people dead.
The walls were down and I was pretty sure they’d stay that way, with no queen and no one to lead the Seelie. I had no doubt the king was on extended sabbatical.
Jayne and his men were out in force, kicking ass, hell-bent on emptying the streets of Unseelie and the skies of Hunters. I planned to talk to him about that. I wondered if we might be able to negotiate a treaty with the Hunters. I didn’t like the thought of K’Vruck being shot at.
Kat had connected with Post Haste, Inc.’s international branches. She told me that Dark Zones abounded around the world, but Dani’s Shade-Buster recipe had been translated into virtually every language and manufacturing MacHalos was a booming business. In certain parts of the world, you could trade one for a cow. There were millions of surplus houses, cars, electronics, all the things I used to dream about one day owning, lying around out there for the taking. And all I could think was that I might cheerfully give up Barrons’ 911 Porsche turbo for a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice.
IFPs were drifting around like small tornados, but Ryodan and his men knew a way to tether them and had begun weeding the worst out of the city. Not because he cared, Ryodan had informed me coolly, but because they weren’t good for business.
Chester’s was rocking like never before. Today when I was out running errands, some chick had actually chirped, “See you in Faery!” As if she was saying, “Dude, have a good day.”
It was a strange new world.
The war was on, but it was a subdued war. Seelie and Unseelie were fighting each other but keeping it quiet for now, as if they weren’t sure what we might do if they messed up any more of our world and they weren’t ready to find out.
Yet.
The only good Fae is a dead Fae, in my book. PS: Hunters aren’t Fae.
The power was still down in most places. Generators were hot commodities. The cell towers didn’t work—Barrons’ and his men’s phones the mysterious exceptions. The Internet had crashed months ago. Some people were talking about maybe not restoring things to the way they were, going in a new direction that was a little less plugged in. I imagined there’d be a lot of different schools of thought, with enclaves springing up here and there, each espousing their own philosophy and social order.
I had no idea where the future was headed.