“Not really,” said Fiona.
Estelle smiled. “Good. After dinner, I need you to start patrolling our southern and eastern borders.” The way she stared at Fiona without blinking was unnerving. “I don’t imagine you’re scared of the dark. I imagine you’re kind of drawn to it. In any case, Cadonia will be with you to make sure you don’t screw up.”
“Who’s Cadonia?”
“She lives in the woods. Too strange for town. She runs the patrols each night with one of us.”
Fiona had no desire to put herself in the path of the Picaroons, but she’d have to choose her battles. She took a steadying breath. “And what do we do if we see them?”
Estelle held her gaze for a little too long, and Fiona had the impression of being picked apart. The Queen pointed at the crooked, gray belfry. “If you see a Picaroon, you fly as fast as your little wings will carry you to sound the alarm. Just don’t let the sea demons catch you, or you’ll find yourself in Dagon’s hell. Got it?”
A shiver crawled up Fiona’s spine, and she watched as Estelle turned and strode away. She wrapped her hands around the bowl of stew, warming her fingers. What choice did she have in any of this? She could either play by Estelle’s rules, or run back into the arms of the witch hunters, who, lest she forget, wanted to light her on fire.
So she’d be sleeping in the kennel and roaming the woods with some weirdo, trying to stay clear of Dagon’s hell. This was her new life.
Thomas settled at a nearby table. A few moments later, Celia and Oswald sat down at Fiona’s. She could tell by the grim look on Celia’s face that they weren’t having the most pleasant evening either.
Alan followed, making room for himself next to Oswald. “How is everyone?”
“Eating,” said Oswald.
The radio droned on: “…banks in another crisis, prompting European leaders to suggest radical change…”
Alan poured himself a cup of beer. “Are we not talking tonight? Because I’m happy to just drink beer and talk to the Dogtown ladies. I’m pretty sure Estelle was giving me the eye.”
Fiona eyed Tobias over the rim of her drink. “Tobias. You know what I said earlier, about you being a monster—”
His eyes shifted to hers, and for a moment, a red spark flared in them. “I am a demon.”
“But what does that mean? You’re still you, right?”
He held her gaze but didn’t answer, and she had the urge to brush her fingers along his cheekbones.
Estelle’s resonating voice interrupted the chatter. “Silence, everyone!” She stood atop one of the tables. The conversations quickly subsided as she prowled along its length, wending between platters and lanterns. “Turn up the radio.”
A stooped old man turned a dial, and the somber voice trailed over the rocky hills.
“…searching for the missing terrorists. Police have named the suspects as Fiona Forzese, Alan Wong, Mariana Beltrame, and a former student known as Tobias Corvin, who may be using an alias. Police are beginning the process of interviewing their family members, including Danny Shea, a convicted murderer and former lieutenant in South Boston’s Connolly gang…”
All eyes turned to Fiona’s table. Estelle’s eyes glowed, fixing on Fiona with a hard stare. “Danny Shea? Let me guess: he’s related to you,” she growled.
Dread wrapped its icy fingers around Fiona’s spine. Why did she get the feeling her father’s name was known here—and not in a good way?
Alan looked at his friends. “Who the hell is Danny Shea?”
Estelle hopped off the table, striding over the grass. Fiona’s heart pounded as the Queen bared her fangs. “You’re Danny Shea’s daughter.” She shouted it so the whole town could hear.
Shit shit shit. “Biologically, yes. But I’m not in contact...” She trailed off. She’d rather bash her head against one of these rocks than talk to Estelle about her dad.
Estelle’s nostrils flared.
All of Dogtown seemed to be gaping at her. Even the dogs had gone silent. Fiona wanted to run down the hill into the dark forest, but she had nowhere left to go. This was it. Her new life.
She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. “You’ve heard of him?”
Estelle narrowed her eyes. “We know Danny Shea. He and the Connolly gang murdered seven of Borgerith’s children in Dogtown.” Her eyes flashed gray, and she jabbed a finger at Fiona’s face. “But your father was the most memorable. See, he didn’t just kill people. He tortured them first. And from what I remember, he enjoyed his work.”
Fiona’s stomach churned. He’d been here—torturing people to death. She rose from the table, her legs shaking. She couldn’t stay. Not that they would even allow her to. She no longer had a home.
7
Fiona
She gritted her teeth, refusing to let herself cry, and picked her way over fallen branches and scrub. She had no idea where she was going, but she wasn’t going to run off crying.