“You’re not God,” I muttered.
I am not the devil either. I’m you. Are you finally ready to see yourself? What lies at the bottom, the great taproot?
“I’m ready.” I’d no sooner said it than there it was. Shining, resplendent, at the bottom of my lake. Golden rays shot out from it, rubies shimmered, locks gleamed.
The Sinsar Dubh.
I have been here all this time. Since before you were born.
“I beat you. In the study, I saw through your games twice. I walked away from the temptation.”
Can’t eviscerate essential self.
I was no longer swimming but dripping wet and floating to the floor of a black cavern. I drifted to my feet, boots lightly touching down. I looked around, wondering where I was. In the dark night of my soul? The Sinsar Dubh was open on a regal black pedestal in front of me. Gold pages shimmering, it waited.
It was beautiful, so beautiful …
Inside me all this time. All those nights I’d been hunting it, it had been right under my nose. Or, actually, behind it. Just like Cruce, I was the Sinsar Dubh, but unlike Cruce, I’d never opened it. Never welcomed or read it. That was why I’d never understood any of the runes it had given me. I’d never looked inside. Only taken what it offered to use it as recommended.
If I’d ever dived to the bottom of my glassy lake and opened the Book, I’d have had all the king’s dark knowledge at my disposal, in detail. Every spell and rune, the recipe for every experiment, including how to create the Shades, the Gray Man, even Cruce! It was no wonder the Unseelie King had regarded me with paternal pride. I possessed so many of his memories, so much of his magic. I supposed that was as close to having a daughter as the king would ever get. He’d spat out a part of himself, and it was in me now. Sperm, essential self: what difference to a Fae? He could see himself in me, and the Fae liked that.
It was also no wonder K’Vruck had pushed at me mentally and recognized me. He’d found some part of the king inside me, and to him, king was king. He’d missed his traveling companion. Ditto with the Silvers. They’d recognized the essence of the king in me, and while most had resisted me pushing into them and spat me out enthusiastically—thanks to Cruce’s botched curse that hadn’t been Cruce’s at all—the oldest and first Silver that joined the king and concubine’s boudoir was unaffected by the curse and had permitted me passage for the same reason. I was wearing Eau d’King. Even Adam had sensed something about me, and I knew Cruce must have, too. They just hadn’t known exactly what. Then there was the time the dreamy-eyed guy had told the fear dorcha to look deeper and the pin-striped terror had backed off.
I am open to the spell you want. You need only come close enough to read me, MacKayla. It is that easy. We will be rejoined. And you can lay the child to rest.
“I suppose you have a perfectly good reason for destroying my sign?” Jericho appeared beside me. “I had to paint the bloody thing myself,” he said pissily. “There’s not a sign-maker left in the city. I have better things to do than paint.”
I gaped. Jericho Barrons was standing beside me.
Inside my head.
I shook it, half expecting him to be knocked off his feet and go rattling around.
He remained standing, urbane and implacable as ever.
“This isn’t possible,” I told him. “You can’t be here. This is my head.”
“You push into mine. I merely projected an image with the push this time, to give you something to look at.” He gave me a faint smile. “Wasn’t easy getting in. You give a whole new meaning to ‘rock-head.’ ”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He invaded my thoughts and gave me guff even here.
“I found you standing in the street, staring at the sign over the bookstore. Tried talking to you but you didn’t respond. Thought I’d better take a look around. What are you doing, Mac?” he said softly—Barrons at his most alert and dangerous.
My laughter died and tears sprang to my eyes. He was in my head. I saw little point in hiding anything. He could take a good look around and see the truth for himself.
“I didn’t get the spell.” My voice broke. I’d failed him. I hated myself for that. He’d never failed me.
“I know.”
My gaze flicked to his face, bewildered. “You … know?”
“I knew it was a lie the moment you said it.”
I searched his eyes. “But you looked happy! You smiled. I saw things in your eyes!”
“I was happy. I knew why you’d lied.” His dark gaze was ancient, inhuman, and uncharacteristically gentle. Because you love me.
I drew in a ragged breath.
“Let’s get out of here, Mac. There’s nothing for you down here.”
“The spell! It’s here. I can get it. Use it. Lay him to rest!”
“But you wouldn’t be you anymore. You can’t take a single spell from that thing. It’s all or nothing. We’ll find another way.”
The Sinsar Dubh poisoned the moment. He lies. He hates you for failing him.
“Shut it down, Mac. Ice the lake over.”
I stared at the Book, shining in all its glory. Power, pure and simple. I could create worlds.
Ice his ass over. He’s just worried you’ll be more powerful than he is.
Barrons held out his hand. “Don’t leave me, Rainbow Girl.”
Rainbow Girl. Was that who I was?
It seemed so long ago. I smiled faintly. “Remember the skirt I wore to Mallucé’s the night you told me to dress Goth?”
“It’s upstairs in your closet. Never throw it away. It looked like a wet dream on you.”
I took his hand.
And just like that, we were standing in the street outside Barrons Books and Baubles.
Deep inside me, the Book whumped closed.
As we headed for the entrance, I heard gunshots, and we looked up. Two winged dragons sailed past the moon.
Jayne was shooting at Hunters again.
Hunters.
My eyes widened.
K’Vruck!
Could it be that simple?
“Oh, God, that’s it,” I whispered.
Barrons was holding the door open for me. “What?”
Excitement and urgency flooded me. I clutched his arm. “Can you get me a Hunter to fly?”
“Of course.”
“Hurry, then. I think I know what to do about your son!”