I swallowed. “No,” I told him, and the orbs blinked in surprise. “I’m not done here. Leanansidhe wants to talk to me? Good, I have some things to talk to her about, as well. But I am not going into her mansion, knowing my dad is right there, and still having no idea who he is. I’m getting my memory back. Until then, she can just wait.”
Ash touched the back of my arm, a silent, approving gesture, and Grimalkin stared at me as if I’d grown three heads. “Defying Leanansidhe. I had no idea it was going to be so interesting.” He purred, narrowing his eyes. “Very well, human. I will accompany you, if only to see the Exile Queen’s face when you tell her the reason she had to wait.”
That sounded faintly ominous, but I didn’t care. Leanansidhe had a lot to answer for, and I would get those answers—but first I needed to know what I was asking about.
THE MUSEUM DOORS WERE still unlocked as I eased my way inside, followed by Ash and a continuously purring Grimalkin, who disappeared as soon as he slipped through the door. He didn’t creep away or hide in the shadows; he simply vanished from sight. It didn’t surprise me in the least—I was used to it by now.
A withered figure waited for us near the back, leaning against a glass counter, turning a skull over in her hands. She bared her needlelike teeth in a smile as I approached, raking her nails along the skull’s naked cheekbones.
“You have it,” she whispered, her hollow gaze fastened on me. “I can smell it from here. Show it to me, human. What have you brought old Anna?”
I pulled the ring from my pocket and held it up, where it glimmered in the musty darkness like a firefly. The oracle’s smile grew wider.
“Ah, yes. The doomed lovers, separated by age and time, and the hope that kept them alive. Futile though it was, in the end.” She coughed a laugh, a wisp of dust billowing from her mouth into the air. “Went to the graveyard, did you? How brazen. No wonder I kept seeing a dog in your future. You did not, by chance, get the mate of this ring, did you?”
“Um…no.”
“Ah, well.” She held out a withered hand, like a bird opening its talons. “I guess I shall have to be content with the one. Now, Meghan Chase, give me the Token.”
“You promised,” I reminded her, taking one step forward. “The Token for my memory. I want it all back.”
“Of course, child.” The oracle seemed annoyed. “I will relinquish the memory of your father—the memory you freely gave up, may I add—in exchange for the Token. As our bargain dictates, so shall it be done.” She flexed her claws impatiently. “Now, please. Hand it over.”
I hesitated a moment more, then dropped the ring into her palm.
Her fingers closed with such speed that I took a step back. The oracle sighed, holding the ring to her sunken chest. “Such longing,” she mused, as if in a daze. “Such emotion. I remember. Before I gave them all away. I remember how it felt to feel.” She sniffed, coming out of her trance, and floated back, behind the counter, her voice suddenly brittle and sour. “I don’t see how you mortals do it, these feelings you must endure. They will ruin you, in the end. Isn’t that right, prince?”
I started, but Ash didn’t seem surprised. “It’s worth it,” he said quietly.
“Yes, you tell yourself that now.” The oracle slipped the ring over a talon and held up her hand, admiring it. “But see how you feel a few decades from now, when the girl has grown withered and weak, slipping farther from you with each passing day, and you are as ageless as time. Or, perhaps—” she turned to me now “—your beloved prince will find the mortal realm is too much for him to stay, to be, and he will fade into nothingness. One day, you will wake up and he will simply be gone, only a memory, and you will never find love again, because how can a mere mortal compete with the fair folk?” The oracle hissed, lips curled into a sneer. “Then you will wish you were empty inside. Like me.”
Ash remained calm, expressionless, but I felt a stab of fear twist my stomach. “Is this…what you see?” I whispered, a band tightening around my heart. “Our future?”
“Flashes,” the oracle said, waving her hand dismissively. “The far-future is a constantly changing wave, always in motion, never certain. The story changes with every breath. Every decision we make sends it down another path. But…” She narrowed her hollow eyes at me. “There is one constant in your future, child, and that is pain. Pain and emptiness, for your friends, the ones you hold dearest to your heart, are nowhere to be seen.”
The band around my chest squeezed tight. The oracle smiled, a bitter, empty smile, and broke eye contact. “But perhaps you will change all that,” she mused, gesturing to something I couldn’t see behind the counter. “Perhaps you will find a happy ending to this tale, one that I have not seen. After all—” she held up a long finger, where the ring glimmered brightly against the gloom “—without hope, where would we be now?” She cackled and held out her hand.