“You were right,” Jackaby conceded. “It looks like the only thing that could tempt that man away from you was you. She’s a nixie. Nixies are shape-shifting water spirits.”
“He was a good man,” said Jenny. “You would have liked him.”
“I think you’re right,” said Jackaby. “He gave himself up to keep you safe.”
“Twice,” said Jenny.
I stepped forward hesitantly. “Are you all right?” I said.
She took a deep breath. “No,” she said. “But I will be. It’s good to know the truth. I saw what Howard told you in the underworld,” she said. “I saw everything the moment you got back. I saw it in your head. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.” She smiled at me and then cringed. “Oh, Abigail, your face!”
I reached a hand up and felt the cut. It was long and tender, but it wasn’t deep. Morwen had struck a line straight across the middle of my existing scar. Each investigation I pursued with Jackaby seemed to leave me with larger and more visible injuries. At this rate, I would be escalating to decapitation by our sixth or seventh case if I wasn’t careful. “I’ll live,” I said. “I’m sure it looks worse than it is. Really.”
“You can’t fool me. I was in there when you got it,” said Jenny. “I’m so sorry.”
“That scar is nothing to apologize for,” said Jackaby. “It may very well be the only reason Miss Rook is still alive. Look. Just like the devil going after old Will o’ the Wisps, Morwen managed to inscribe the mark of a cross without meaning to. Unseelie Fae don’t handle religious iconography well. It’s in their nature to reject contradicting powers. Come on. We’ll get you patched up back at the house.”
“No,” I said. “Carson was right about that, too—we can’t wait. Finstern’s machine in those monsters’ hands is bad enough, but the Dire Council is already constructing something else—something capable of enslaving entire cities at a time.”
“Did you say the Dire Council?” Jackaby asked. His tone told me he had heard the name before, and his eyes told me he had hoped he wouldn’t hear it again.
“Yes. The Dire Council. That’s what Mr. Carson called them. As the Seer, you’re the best chance we have of hunting down the council before it’s too late—and their favorite slippery assassin just stole the only machine in the world capable of taking you out of commission. We need to act fast. We can’t let her get back to her father.”
“I’m all for putting a stop to that nefarious nixie,” said Jackaby, “but she’s long gone by now. It would be easier to pick up a trail back in our world, but the Annwyn is saturated with Unseelie energies. Tracking her in here would be like finding a drop of water in an ocean.”
“Then we don’t track her at all,” I said.
“You have something in mind?”
“Yes,” I said. “We need to stop watching the marionette and start following the strings.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
The sky was already beginning to darken by the time we reached the veil-gate. Charlie stood like a palace guard as we stepped through, but his face betrayed the relief he felt at our return. His expression faltered as he caught sight of the line of red running down my face.
“It’s fine, really.” I gave him a kiss on the cheek and he smiled, a confused medley of contentment and concern, as he followed me across the threshold. He paused, taking notice of Jenny, and then glanced back through the portal.
“Hello, Miss Cavanaugh. What about Mr. Finstern?”
“He isn’t coming,” answered Jackaby. “He made choices.”
“I’ll explain everything along the way,” I said.
The portal closed silently as soon as Charlie climbed down from the mound. We put Rosemary’s Green behind us and wound our way back into the city proper. Along the way I told Charlie about the tree, about the underworld, and about what I had learned from Howard Carson. “Mr. Carson called them the Dire Council,” I said. “Jackaby, you know something about a Dire Council, don’t you?”
Jackaby scowled darkly. “Yes,” he said. “I do. I know that there are monsters grown men only dare whisper about, and those monsters only dare whisper about the Dire Fae. They are chaos incarnate. The Dire Council is worse—they are insidiously clever chaos. Organized chaos. Redcaps and dragons and vampires are nothing compared to what will come if the Dire Council achieves their goal.”
“What goal?”
“According to tradition, Dire Fae have a passion for havoc. The Dire Council gives that passion scope. They have sought in the past to tear down the barriers between realms. To bring the Anwynn crashing into the earth. The Seelie Fae served nobly the last time—and suffered terrible losses to ensure the Dire Fae did not succeed. Think of your own Guy Fawkes, only instead of blowing up some stuffy parliament building, the council set their sights on the human race. Not even the Old Testament boasts any plague to compare with the onslaught of every species in the Unseelie Court unleashed on the world all at once.”
“It’s the fate of all mankind, then, sir?” I said. “Grand. That’s grand. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen, shall we?”
“I still don’t understand,” said Charlie. “Where are we going?”
“We’re visiting an old friend,” said Jackaby.
“An old enemy,” added Jenny. She had vanished from sight as we wound our way through the streets, but her voice remained clear and close at hand.
The sun was easing toward the horizon and the sky was warming to a rich burgundy as we made our way into the heart of the city. While we walked I finished the story, telling Charlie about what had happened after I emerged from the underworld, about Finstern and his treacherous sister, Morwen, and about her underhanded escape.
“It’s Morwen we’re after now,” Jenny added darkly. “We will finish this tonight.”
“Don’t leave off the clever bit,” Jackaby piped in. “Miss Rook put all the pieces together. I’ll have to give you a raise if you’ve got it right.”
“You always just tell me to pay myself whatever sounds reasonable from the accounts,” I said.
“Well, I will instruct you to pay yourself slightly more.”
“I didn’t do anything all that impressive, anyway,” I said. “I simply took what we already know about Morwen and connected a few strings. We know that she was raised by her father—a secretive, manipulative magic man. It’s a fair wager he’s our puppet master, or one of them, at least. We also know that she was already here in New Fiddleham over a decade ago, doing his dirty work. In those days Morwen worked for Mayor Poplin in the guise of his secretary. Poplin had a history of corruption, and my guess is he was an easy mark for their plans. His Technology Center was nothing but a cover story for their sinister science project.”
“Which is why Mr. Carson destroyed it,” said Charlie.
“Right, but that wasn’t the end of it. Poplin had bled the city dry to fund the project, so when it went up in flames he went up in smoke. He lost favor fast and an idealistic candidate named Philip Spade was elected in a landslide to take his place.”