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Authors: Laurell K. Hamilton
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body had a slight tremor up its entire length where it touched mine like an eager horse. They were right. If Bittersweet used the same power on the detectives that had knocked Doyle and Robert down, they could be badly hurt.
For the first time I wondered if Bittersweet was more than just scared. Once was lashing out in hysteria, but twice? I wondered, wasshe crazy? It happened to the fey just like humans. Some fey went a little mad in exile from faerie. Had our star witness hallucinated the killers? Was this all for nothing?
Robert moved forward, his hand still upraised. “Bittersweet, my sweet, please. There’s more cake, and I’ll send for fresh tea.”
The angry buzz of bees grew louder. The tension in the room rose on the strength of the sound like a musical note drawn out too long so you almost wanted it to change at any cost rather than simply continuing.
She turned in midair, her wings making a silver and rainbow blur around her body. Tiny as she was, all I could think was that she hovered like one of those fighter planes. The analogy should have been ridiculous for someone four inches tall, but malice rolled off of her in waves.
“I am not some foolish brownie to be calmed by sweets and tea,” she said.
Robert lowered his arm, slowly, because the insult was a true one. Brownies had often taken their payment in sweets and tea, or good liquor in the olden days.
There was some kind of commotion outside the door, raised voices, as if a crowd was trying to get past the policemen whom I knew had to be on the other side. Bittersweet did another of those precise, almost mechanical turns, this time toward the door and the noise. “The killers are here. I won’t let them take my magic and destroy me.” If someone forced the door now she would hurt them, or at least hurt Wright and O’Brian, who were on our side of the door.
I did the only thing I could think of. I spoke. “You asked for my help, Bittersweet.”
The malignant hovering doll turned toward me. Doyle moved slightly forward on the couch, minutely, so that if she had another burst of power he could shield me. Frost’s body was so tense beside me it felt like his muscles should ache with it. I fought not to tense, to be calm, and to send calm out to Bittersweet. She was a buzzing, rage-filled thing, and I wondered again if she was mad.
“You begged me to stay here and keep you safe. I stayed, and I have made certain that the police did not take you somewhere with more metal and technology.”
She dipped toward the ground, and then hovered again, but not as high, and not as precise. I knew enough of winged beings to know that that was puzzlement, a hesitation. The sound of bees began to fade.
She scrunched her tiny face up and said, “You stayed because I was afraid. You stayed because I asked.”
“Yes,” I said, “that’s exactly right, Bittersweet.”
The voices outside grew louder, more strident. “It’s too late, Queen Meredith. They’ve come.” Bittersweet turned toward the door. “They’ve come to get me.” Her voice sounded distant, and not right. Danu save us, she was mad. The question was, had the madness come before or after she saw her friends dead? The sound of bees began to grow louder again, and there was the smell of summer and sun beating down on the grass.
“They aren’t coming to get you, Bittersweet,” I said, and I sent calming thoughts to her. I wished we’d had Galen or Abeloec with us; they could both project positive emotions. Abe could make warriors stop in the middle of the battle and have a drink together. Galen just made everyone happy to be around him. None of the three of us sitting here could do any of that. We could kill Bittersweet to save the humans from harm, but could we stop her short of that?
“Bittersweet, you called me your queen. As your queen I command you not to harm anyone in this place.”
She looked back over her shoulder at me and her almond-shaped eyes glinted blue with her
For the first time I wondered if Bittersweet was more than just scared. Once was lashing out in hysteria, but twice? I wondered, wasshe crazy? It happened to the fey just like humans. Some fey went a little mad in exile from faerie. Had our star witness hallucinated the killers? Was this all for nothing?
Robert moved forward, his hand still upraised. “Bittersweet, my sweet, please. There’s more cake, and I’ll send for fresh tea.”
The angry buzz of bees grew louder. The tension in the room rose on the strength of the sound like a musical note drawn out too long so you almost wanted it to change at any cost rather than simply continuing.
She turned in midair, her wings making a silver and rainbow blur around her body. Tiny as she was, all I could think was that she hovered like one of those fighter planes. The analogy should have been ridiculous for someone four inches tall, but malice rolled off of her in waves.
“I am not some foolish brownie to be calmed by sweets and tea,” she said.
Robert lowered his arm, slowly, because the insult was a true one. Brownies had often taken their payment in sweets and tea, or good liquor in the olden days.
There was some kind of commotion outside the door, raised voices, as if a crowd was trying to get past the policemen whom I knew had to be on the other side. Bittersweet did another of those precise, almost mechanical turns, this time toward the door and the noise. “The killers are here. I won’t let them take my magic and destroy me.” If someone forced the door now she would hurt them, or at least hurt Wright and O’Brian, who were on our side of the door.
I did the only thing I could think of. I spoke. “You asked for my help, Bittersweet.”
The malignant hovering doll turned toward me. Doyle moved slightly forward on the couch, minutely, so that if she had another burst of power he could shield me. Frost’s body was so tense beside me it felt like his muscles should ache with it. I fought not to tense, to be calm, and to send calm out to Bittersweet. She was a buzzing, rage-filled thing, and I wondered again if she was mad.
“You begged me to stay here and keep you safe. I stayed, and I have made certain that the police did not take you somewhere with more metal and technology.”
She dipped toward the ground, and then hovered again, but not as high, and not as precise. I knew enough of winged beings to know that that was puzzlement, a hesitation. The sound of bees began to fade.
She scrunched her tiny face up and said, “You stayed because I was afraid. You stayed because I asked.”
“Yes,” I said, “that’s exactly right, Bittersweet.”
The voices outside grew louder, more strident. “It’s too late, Queen Meredith. They’ve come.” Bittersweet turned toward the door. “They’ve come to get me.” Her voice sounded distant, and not right. Danu save us, she was mad. The question was, had the madness come before or after she saw her friends dead? The sound of bees began to grow louder again, and there was the smell of summer and sun beating down on the grass.
“They aren’t coming to get you, Bittersweet,” I said, and I sent calming thoughts to her. I wished we’d had Galen or Abeloec with us; they could both project positive emotions. Abe could make warriors stop in the middle of the battle and have a drink together. Galen just made everyone happy to be around him. None of the three of us sitting here could do any of that. We could kill Bittersweet to save the humans from harm, but could we stop her short of that?
“Bittersweet, you called me your queen. As your queen I command you not to harm anyone in this place.”
She looked back over her shoulder at me and her almond-shaped eyes glinted blue with her
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