Read Online Cherry Bomb: A Siobhan Quinn Novel by Caitlin R. Kiernan, Kathleen Tierney - Free Book Online Page B

eyebrow.
    “I’m not lying.” Selwyn turned away from me, back towards the Faerie camped there on her tattered red recamier. “You want to see my driver’s license? My passport? My—”
    “That won’t be necessary,” Aster said, leaning back again. “You’ve brought me such a precious thing, so I shall take your word.”
    “Thank you,” said Selwyn, all obsequious and shit. I wondered if the Faerie could hear as much relief in her voice as I did.
    “It is understandable, dear, that such a formality as trusting me with your middle name might slip your merely human mind.”
    Jesus God, have I said how much I fucking
hate
fucking Faeries. Yeah, well. I haven’t said it enough.
    I hate Faeries.
    Except for Aloysius.
    He’s my one and only exception.
    “May I please hold it now, my sweet dear?” asked Aster the fucking pompous, condescending Fae bitch.
    Selwyn started to hand over the necklace, but I grabbed her arm.
    “Payment up front,” I said.
    Selwyn? Mortified.
    The Faerie? If, as they say, looks could kill. A bee appeared from her right nostril, buzzed loudly, then flew away towards a clump of the hive people.
    Selwyn forced half a strained smile, and she said, “She loves to joke. You know vampires.”
    The Faerie shut her gray eyes a moment. When she opened them, the irises were an oily black. I guessed that meant she was seriously bent out of shape, that I’d just gone and dumped sand in her vagina.
    “I have made a habit of not making the acquaintance of corpses,” Aster sneered.
    “Your loss,” I said. Often, thoughtlessly shooting off my piehole is how I deal with my fight-or-flight response when doing either isn’t an option.
    Selwyn quickly intervened by placing the necklace in bee lady’s hand and then closing the hand around it. Which instantly seemed to placate the Faerie. Her eyes faded to gray again. Just give us monsters our play pretties, yeah, and all is forgiven. No, that’s obviously not exactly true, not across the board, I mean, but it certainly seemed the case with Aster the fucking Faerie.
    “At first I was afraid it was still in the vaults at Thok,” Selwyn said, talking a little too fast, “and no one was ever gonna see it again, like you said. But—”
    The Faerie whispered, “The Ghul have always been careless with the fruits of their thievery. And the Tear of Dis burns. The flame held within its facets betrays its origins, if only one has the sight to know hellfire.”
    Blah, blah, fuckity blah.
    I was beginning to think maybe Selwyn wasn’t getting paid for this transaction, that she might be somehow in debt to Aster—happens all the time with humans—and this was a way of buying her freedom. Also, surelySelwyn had to know about Faerie gold. They pass you a bag full of Spanish doubloons, only later you discover that bag’s full of acorns or pebbles or rabbit droppings. Selling shit to Faeries is, in short, almost as stupid as selling hellgoods. And here was Selwyn Throckmorton doing both at the same time.
    “It
is
beautiful,” she said, “though I know I can’t appreciate it as you do.”
    The Faerie nodded, and the necklace vanished from her hand, only to reappear around her throat.
    “You’re honorable, Annie Smithfield. You will find that the Host never again troubles you.”
    So, okay, this wasn’t about money, but some sort of exchange of services. Not that the Fae are known for keeping promises. I almost asked what Selwyn had done to get the Unseelie Host on her—that vicious assortment of bogles, goblins, hobs, and flying fucking monkeys.
    Selwyn thanked Aster again, bowed, and the Faerie dismissed us with a wave of the hand. Well, dismissed Selwyn. I suspect the Faerie considered reanimated corpses and cadavers and whatnot so disgraceful that we’re not worth the trouble.
    I hate Faeries.
    Once we were out of there and down on the sidewalk again, I tried to conceal how glad I was to not be in the presence of Aster and her hive people. I’ll