Rosemary and Rue

“Human morality, October. Get over it. It’s not going to get you very far.” He stepped toward me, stopping when I raised the gun. “She’s still dead. No matter what you do, she stays dead. Can you really stand to lose us both?”


“I can’t stand not to.” Questions were whirled through my head faster than I could ask them. How did he edit Evening’s blood memory? That’s supposed to be impossible, but he did it. How many more assassins were there? The ones in Goldengreen—I had to assume they were real, but I’d never seen them.

And in the end, it didn’t matter. Those were the questions I could answer later; what mattered now was ending this, here, tonight, before any other innocents got hurt.

Devin’s tone changed, becoming wheedling. “I never wanted you involved,Toby. I didn’t think she’d call you—I really didn’t. If you’d just stopped when I asked . . .”

“You’d have killed me anyway, eventually.” I stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “I haven’t belonged to you in a long time, and honor doesn’t protect me anymore. I’m not stupid, Devin. You know better.”

“You won’t shoot me,” he said, and smiled. “You can’t.”

“I can’t?”

“No. You still love me. You’re still too human. You can’t kill someone you love.” He sounded completely sure of himself. “I know you. You can’t fool me.”

“No, Devin, you know a girl who didn’t know enough to get away from you.” My hands were shaking, aim wavering as my focus slipped. Anger makes everything personal. As if this wasn’t already personal enough. “Love you? Love you? You killed Evening, and you killed Ross, and you tried to kill me. You put your kids in harm’s way, and now you have the . . . the audacity to say that I love you? Oberon’s blood, Devin, will you just grow up already?”

“Yes. You love me.” He lowered his hands. “You always have, and you always will, no matter what I do to you. All changelings are crazy, Toby. You know that. Your madness is your loyalty.”

“Screw you,” I said, and steadied my aim.

I shouldn’t have waited so long. Dare shouted, “Manny, no!” and I whirled, letting Devin out of my sight. That wasn’t my first mistake; it stood a good chance of being my last.

Manuel—sweet, innocent Manuel—was holding a revolver, feet braced at shoulder width, the barrel of the gun aimed at my chest. He was trembling. I froze. I was willing to bet that he’d never shot anyone, that he didn’t want to shoot me, but I wasn’t going to test it. Smart people don’t gamble with guns.

“He said . . . he said we wouldn’t have to . . . hurt you . . . if you’d just stop getting in the way. You could come back here. You could be family like you used to. But you wouldn’t listen!” Manny was almost crying, face slick with sweat. “Put down the gun, Ms. Daye.”

“Manny?”

“Just put it down.”

“I thought Evening was your friend, Manny. What are you—”

He gestured violently with the gun, looking upset enough that I didn’t trust him not to fire without meaning to. “She didn’t listen! You won’t listen! You want to stay alive around here, when the boss talks, you listen!”

I knelt, careful to move slowly as I placed my gun on the floor. “Where’d you get the gun, Manny?” I asked, not rising. “Did Devin give it to you? He did, didn’t he?”

“Be quiet, Toby,” Devin said. His voice was flat. Maeve’s bones, had I really let him touch me? Had I really touched him? What kind of a fool was I? “Manuel, shoot her. Don’t kill her, just hurt her. The leg, I think.”

Manny was crying now, and his hands were clutching the gun so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. I cleared my throat, pulling his attention back to my face. “Do the bullets burn, Manny?” I asked, in as conversational a tone as I could manage. “Do they make your skin crawl? That’s iron, Manny. He wants you to shoot me with iron bullets.”

“Manuel, shoot her now.”

I stood carefully, holding my hands up at shoulder level. “Can you do it? Can you torture me with iron, for him?”