A Local Habitation

“Do you know what drained the . . . the memory of the blood?”


“No. This has never happened before.” For a moment, she looked almost gentle. “If we knew why, we’d stop it ourselves. There aren’t so many deaths in Faerie that we can afford to see them wasted.”

“I understand,” I said, trying to justify this with what I already knew. The blood was dead; this confirmed that it wasn’t supposed to be. The night-haunts are a natural part of the faerie life cycle. If this had happened before, they’d have known.

“Do you understand why no one must know the why and how of what we are?” She looked at me sharply, waiting.

I nodded. “If all of Faerie knew, some people would burn the bodies to keep you from taking them.”

“That is so. We would fade to nothing but the sound of leaves on the wind.” She fanned her wings, closing them with a click. “Will you keep your silence, daughter of Amandine?”

“I will,” I said. I meant it. Faerie has reasons to be the way it is, even if I don’t always understand them. The night-haunts have as much right to be what Faerie made them as the rest of us do; if ignorance preserved them, I’d keep their secrets.

“You’re wiser than most who deal with us. Is there anything else you would know?”

“No. That’s everything I needed. We can end this now.”

The night-haunt with Devin’s face smiled. “What makes you think we’re done?”

I went cold. “What more is there to do?”

“The matter of payment remains.” He kept smiling, and I realized he didn’t really care whether they took the mandrake or me. He wanted blood—any blood. The night-haunts hadn’t survived by being picky.

I pulled the knife out of the mandrake’s chest and picked it up. It clung to my fingers. I felt a brief, sharp pang of guilt. It was part of me, blood of my blood, and I was throwing it to its doom. Still, sentimental as I can sometimes be, I’m not stupid; if the choice was it or me . . . “I’m sorry,” I murmured, and held it out toward the night-haunts. “Blood is all I have. I’m offering it to you, if you’ll leave me my life and leave this place in peace.”

“Why should we take it? You reject the blood and all it gives you.” The almost-Ross looked at me, eyes cold. “We could take you.”

“The Luidaeg wouldn’t like it,” I said, trying to sound confident. For all I knew, she’d laugh—especially if they meant it when they claimed to be her sister’s children.

“She’d think you performed the ritual wrong,” Devin’s haunt said. “She’d blame you, not us.”

Uh-oh. “Are you willing to risk it?” My heart was beating too fast, and I was sure they could hear it. If they decided to take me, there was nothing I could do.

“Take the offering,” said Dare’s haunt. “Let her dismiss us.”

“But—” the Ross-haunt protested.

Dare’s haunt moved too quickly for my eye to follow, seizing the larger night-haunt by the throat. It fell silent, watching her. “I found the last kill. I. Remember?” she snarled. The haunt she was holding nodded, sullenly silent. “I brought us blood and bone and memory, and until another kill is found, I rule. Is this not true?” She shook her victim again, glaring at the other haunts. “Is this not true?” They whispered agreement, drawing away from her.

She released her captive. It collapsed to the ground before slinking into the shadows of the flock. “I rule here,” she repeated. The whispering night-haunts agreed. She walked back to the circle’s edge, holding out her hands. “Give it to me.”

Carefully, I reached past the salt, putting the mandrake down even as it scrabbled to hold onto my fingers. It was almost as large as she was. She placed one hand on its shoulder, and it froze, watching her with terrified eyes. “The dues are paid; you have given proper courtesy. We’ll let you live.”