Unfortunately, not the many things he‘d done to it.
The Hunter drew in its wings and dropped to the ground in silence. I slid off its leathery back and hit the pavement, puking.
―Where is it?‖ Barrons was demanding before I‘d even finished.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. ―Dead ahead. Three blocks?‖ I guessed.
―Can you walk?‖
I nodded and gagged from the movement but didn‘t throw up again. I hadn‘t eaten since lunch, so there was nothing left to throw up. I took perverse comfort in the pain. Obviously I wasn‘t the one who was going to doom the world. If I was so bad, the Book would have liked me, wanted me to come closer, not repelled me. Ryodan was wrong. The Sinsar Dubh didn‘t want anything to do with me.
We closed in, Barrons stalking, me stumbling. Behind us, the Hunter lifted off, vanishing in a sudden snowstorm of black ice.
―And there went our ride,‖ I said sourly. As awful as the Sinsar Dubh inevitably left me feeling, there was no way I‘d be able to make the long trek back to the bookstore. I hoped the stones would succeed in corralling it—even without the fourth—and maybe diminish the pain it was causing me.
―It‘ll be back when the Book is gone. It insisted on maintaining a certain distance.‖
I didn‘t blame it one bit. I just wished I could do the same.
Two blocks away, with the Book firmly fixed on my radar, my pain vanished abruptly, for no apparent reason. The Sinsar Dubh was still dead ahead.
I stood up straight for the first time since we‘d landed and took a deep, grateful breath. Barrons stopped walking. ―What is it?‖
―I don‘t hurt anymore.‖ I turned to face him in the middle of the deserted street.
―Why not?‖
―Got me.‖
―Postulate.‖
I gave him a look that said, Postulate this.
―I don‘t like it,‖ he growled.
I didn‘t, either. But at the same time, I did. I hate pain. I‘ve always known I would make a terrible torture victim. If someone pulled one of my fingernails off, I‘d spew the beans like a geyser.
―But you still sense it?‖
I nodded.
―Did you eat Unseelie?‖ he accused.
―Duh, OOP detector here. Can‘t track if I eat it.‖
―Yet you feel no pain at all?‖
―Not an ounce.‖ In fact, I felt great. Energized, charged, ready for anything. ―So?‖ I prompted.
―Are we going to stand here all night or do something?‖ Free from agony, I was ready to tackle it head-on.
He assessed me, his expression tight. After a moment, he said, ―We abort. We‘re pulling out.‖
He turned and began walking away.
―Are you kidding me?‖ I snapped at his back. ―We‘re here. We found it. Let‘s see what those stones can do!‖
―No. Move it. Now.‖
―Barrons, I‘m fine—‖
―And you shouldn‘t be.‖ He stopped and turned to glare at me.
―Maybe I‘ve gotten stronger. I‘m immune to a lot of Fae glamour now, and I can walk through wards. Maybe it just caught me off guard, and my body adjusted after a few minutes.‖
―And maybe it‘s playing with us.‖
―Maybe this is a prime opportunity to learn something about it.‖
―Maybe it‘s got you in its thrall, and you don‘t even know it.‖
―Maybe we could stand here all night debating the maybes, or we could put your plan into action and see what happens! You‘re the one who thought it up to begin with. Don‘t wuss out on me now.‖ I turned my back and began marching in the opposite direction, toward the Sinsar Dubh.
―Stop this instant, Ms. Lane!‖
―What happened to fear-nothing-take-no-prisoners Barrons? Should we go cower somewhere?‖ I flung over my shoulder.
A moment later, we were shoulder to shoulder, marching for it together.
―You‘re impossible,‖ he growled.
―Pot, meet kettle,‖ I said sweetly.
―Take this.‖ He handed me one of the stones, wrapped in velvet. Even inside the thick black covering, it glowed blue-black as soon as I touched it. He looked at me, hard, his gaze unfathomable.
―What am I supposed to do with it?‖
―We‘re coming up on O‘Connell. I‘ll circle around to the opposite side of the intersection and close in behind it. I want to triangulate it precisely with the stones. The moment you have both the Book and me in your sight, place your stone on the east corner of the intersection. I‘ll position the other two where they need to be.‖
―What do you expect to happen?‖
―Best-case scenario? We contain it. Worst case? We run like hell.‖