“You do,” Darroc corrects.
Just like that, my spear is heavy in my holster. I jerk a hard look his way. “About damned time.” I guess he finally feels the threat level has risen sufficiently. Or maybe he’s bored, too.
I slip my hand inside my jacket and close my fingers around the hilt. I love my spear. I’m going to keep it in the new world I create, even though it will be a world without Fae.
“You do not,” V’lane says.
“I thought you couldn’t see or hear him.”
“I smell the stench of him.”
My spear is gone.
My spear is there.
Gone again.
I look from V’lane to Darroc. V’lane is staring in Darroc’s general direction. Darroc is staring hard at the Unseelie Princes. They’re having a silent battle over me and my weapon, and it infuriates me that I have no control. One instant, V’lane takes my spear; the next, Darroc gives it back. It flickers in my fingers, solid then gone, solid then gone.
I shake my head. This could go on all night. They can play their silly games. I have more important things to do—like get enough sleep that I’m sharp enough to be on the hunt. I’m dangerously exhausted. I no longer feel numb. I’m brittle, and brittle can crack.
I’m preparing to turn and walk away from it all, when the sound of automatic gunfire shatters the night.
The Seelie hiss, and all those capable of sifting vanish—including V’lane—leaving roughly a third of them still standing in the street. They turn on their attacker, snarling. As the bullets hit them, some of the lesser castes flicker and stumble. Others turn toward us and launch themselves into the Unseelie to escape.
I hear the voices of Jayne and his men, shouting to each other, closing in behind them. I catch the glint of a rifle up on the rooftop a block down and know snipers are moving in.
Good. I hope they take down hundreds of Fae tonight, cart them off and imprison them with iron. I hope Dani makes rounds and kills the ones they catch.
But I’m not about to die from friendly fire in this screwed-up reality. I have a whole new world waiting for me in the future.
I turn to the Unseelie Prince to command it to sift me out of here. My enemy, my salvation.
Darroc barks a harsh order.
The prince’s hands are on me and it’s sifting before I even manage to get the words out.
TIME IS THE ONLY TRUE GOD, AND I AM FOREVER. THEREFORE, I AM GOD.
Your logic is flawed. Time is not forever. It is always. Past, Present, and Future. There was a time in the past when you did not exist. Therefore, you are not God.
I CREATE. I DESTROY.
With the whimsy of a spoiled child.
YOU FAIL TO DIVINE THE MASTER DESIGN. EVEN THAT WHICH YOU CALL CHAOS HAS PATTERN AND PURPOSE.
—CONVERSATIONS WITH THE SINSAR DUBH