But this is different. Im feeling panic with a capital P. Crazy, dumb, blind panic. All the sudden, for no reason I can figure, Im ducking like a rabbit in the middle of a huge, open field with no cover for miles and the sky just went dark with hawks, flying wingtip to wingtip. Death seems that certain. One swoop, a rustle of wings, and Im gone. All because of some weird spot in the air. What the feck? Im panicking because of a shimmer in the air? Dude, whats it going to do to me? Give me a Twilight moment, make me all shimmery, too?
Im torn between fighting to run and staying put so I can see whats happening because I cant conceive of anything that could panic me so bad and I need to see it! Im tired of these eyeballs missing all the exciting stuff lately!
I realize Im not the only one freaking out. Everybody that was trying to get my sword is suddenly scrambling away from the dock like theyre running for their lives, which I take it to mean were all in agreement about not liking unexplained shimmery spots in the air. I see my blade is still flying up, but its moving slow like its about to come back down. If I could just get Fade and Kasteo off my fecking arms, Id rush in and catch it well, maybe I would. Im not real sure about that because my feet arent obeying a thing Im telling them about moving forward. Much to my annoyance, theyre inching me backward.
The princes vanish.
Jayne and the Guardians are rushing straight for us.
Christian, Lor, and his men freeze-frame out, then Lors replaced the other two dudes and has my arm, and hes dragging me away from the dock.
Then were all retreating and I grin when I realize were backing together, shoulder-to-shoulder, in tight formation. Jaynes next to Kasteo, whos next to Christian, whos next to a Guardian, and way down at the end are the full-blood princes, which totally freaks me because I cant figure anything theyd back away from. There are more balls in twenty feet of street here than there are in all of Dublin, and Im proud to be swaying in the nut sack. We might fight each other, but in times of danger, well fight together. Dude!
A dark slit appears in the center of the shimmering spot. My panic increases exponentially. Id turn and run but Im anchored by two dudes that could hold the Titanic during a tsunami.
The slit widens and belches thick fog. I shiver. Frozen fog becomes hard rime. Hard rime coated every person that got iced and died.
The caged Unseelie howl like banshees, and the one making that horrible screeling noise finally nails its hellish crescendo. The windows that didnt shatter when Dancers bombs went off blow out nownot in slivers and chunkstheyre literally pulverized, spraying the streets with glass dust.
The slit widens. More fog puffs out, milky and cold. The temperature plummets.
Hold! Jayne shouts, and we stop.
Fade says, What the
Sound ceases.
The world goes silent.
Utterly.
Still.
Did I lose my hearing? Did the Unseelies crescendo deafen me? I cant even hear my own breath in my ears like when Im swimming underwater. I look at Lor. Hes looking at me and pointing to his ears. I point to my own and nod. Everybody is doing the same thing. Least if I lost my hearing, we all did.
I look back at the widening slit and the oppressive silence grows.
Its worse than a vacuum.
Its. Awful. Its. Messing with my. Head. Its
Void.
Disconnect.
Feels like being dead.
But theres something
I slide into my sidhe-seer center and extend curious tentacles
I get a mishmash of impressions but I cant find words for them because what Im feeling is beyond my ability to comprehend. Like Im three-dimensional and what Im feeling is six or seven dimensions. Its
Complicated.
Ancient.
Sentient.
I try to get a read on its well, mind for lack of a better word, and all I get is a weird flash of calculation?
Something missing. Something being searched for.
I look at Lor and see an expression on his face Ive never seen before and never thought Id see.
Fear.
It worries me. A lot.
He looks at Fade and Kasteo and they nod. He tightens his grip on my arm.
The slit widens and it comes.
Holy fecking crikey, it comes!
TWENTY-FOUR
And the beat goes on
Cruce came tonight as he always does, stealing my sleep, parting my lips and thighs, leaving me near dawn in tangled bed linens, soaking with sweat from sex and shame.
In the few moments of rest I snatch before rising, I have a terrifying dream.
I walk to the hidden entry of the catacombs with the shuffling, mindless gait of a woman dead and risen from the grave.
Margery blocks the door of stones that looks like any other wall unless you are privy to its secret. She is voluptuously nude, hair and eyes wild, smelling of hima scent I know too well. A banshee, she shows sharp teeth in a cackle and tells me he is gone. I am too late.
With violence of which I did not believe myself capable, I shove her aside, and when she slams into the wall, she slumps down it and is still. Blood blossoms behind her head, staining red daisy petals on the wall.
Bemused by the hostility in my heart, I pass through the door and shuffle on.
The tunnels are pitch, forcing me to feel sightless passage along damp stone walls. This is not the Underneath I know: dry and well lit, with everything in its place. In this dark, moist maze, moss grows thickly on walls and bones crunch beneath my feet. The odor of decay couples with some fecund scent on the breeze. There is nothing down here to generate wind unless a thing stirs that cannot possibly be stirring.
Im torn between fighting to run and staying put so I can see whats happening because I cant conceive of anything that could panic me so bad and I need to see it! Im tired of these eyeballs missing all the exciting stuff lately!
I realize Im not the only one freaking out. Everybody that was trying to get my sword is suddenly scrambling away from the dock like theyre running for their lives, which I take it to mean were all in agreement about not liking unexplained shimmery spots in the air. I see my blade is still flying up, but its moving slow like its about to come back down. If I could just get Fade and Kasteo off my fecking arms, Id rush in and catch it well, maybe I would. Im not real sure about that because my feet arent obeying a thing Im telling them about moving forward. Much to my annoyance, theyre inching me backward.
The princes vanish.
Jayne and the Guardians are rushing straight for us.
Christian, Lor, and his men freeze-frame out, then Lors replaced the other two dudes and has my arm, and hes dragging me away from the dock.
Then were all retreating and I grin when I realize were backing together, shoulder-to-shoulder, in tight formation. Jaynes next to Kasteo, whos next to Christian, whos next to a Guardian, and way down at the end are the full-blood princes, which totally freaks me because I cant figure anything theyd back away from. There are more balls in twenty feet of street here than there are in all of Dublin, and Im proud to be swaying in the nut sack. We might fight each other, but in times of danger, well fight together. Dude!
A dark slit appears in the center of the shimmering spot. My panic increases exponentially. Id turn and run but Im anchored by two dudes that could hold the Titanic during a tsunami.
The slit widens and belches thick fog. I shiver. Frozen fog becomes hard rime. Hard rime coated every person that got iced and died.
The caged Unseelie howl like banshees, and the one making that horrible screeling noise finally nails its hellish crescendo. The windows that didnt shatter when Dancers bombs went off blow out nownot in slivers and chunkstheyre literally pulverized, spraying the streets with glass dust.
The slit widens. More fog puffs out, milky and cold. The temperature plummets.
Hold! Jayne shouts, and we stop.
Fade says, What the
Sound ceases.
The world goes silent.
Utterly.
Still.
Did I lose my hearing? Did the Unseelies crescendo deafen me? I cant even hear my own breath in my ears like when Im swimming underwater. I look at Lor. Hes looking at me and pointing to his ears. I point to my own and nod. Everybody is doing the same thing. Least if I lost my hearing, we all did.
I look back at the widening slit and the oppressive silence grows.
Its worse than a vacuum.
Its. Awful. Its. Messing with my. Head. Its
Void.
Disconnect.
Feels like being dead.
But theres something
I slide into my sidhe-seer center and extend curious tentacles
I get a mishmash of impressions but I cant find words for them because what Im feeling is beyond my ability to comprehend. Like Im three-dimensional and what Im feeling is six or seven dimensions. Its
Complicated.
Ancient.
Sentient.
I try to get a read on its well, mind for lack of a better word, and all I get is a weird flash of calculation?
Something missing. Something being searched for.
I look at Lor and see an expression on his face Ive never seen before and never thought Id see.
Fear.
It worries me. A lot.
He looks at Fade and Kasteo and they nod. He tightens his grip on my arm.
The slit widens and it comes.
Holy fecking crikey, it comes!
TWENTY-FOUR
And the beat goes on
Cruce came tonight as he always does, stealing my sleep, parting my lips and thighs, leaving me near dawn in tangled bed linens, soaking with sweat from sex and shame.
In the few moments of rest I snatch before rising, I have a terrifying dream.
I walk to the hidden entry of the catacombs with the shuffling, mindless gait of a woman dead and risen from the grave.
Margery blocks the door of stones that looks like any other wall unless you are privy to its secret. She is voluptuously nude, hair and eyes wild, smelling of hima scent I know too well. A banshee, she shows sharp teeth in a cackle and tells me he is gone. I am too late.
With violence of which I did not believe myself capable, I shove her aside, and when she slams into the wall, she slumps down it and is still. Blood blossoms behind her head, staining red daisy petals on the wall.
Bemused by the hostility in my heart, I pass through the door and shuffle on.
The tunnels are pitch, forcing me to feel sightless passage along damp stone walls. This is not the Underneath I know: dry and well lit, with everything in its place. In this dark, moist maze, moss grows thickly on walls and bones crunch beneath my feet. The odor of decay couples with some fecund scent on the breeze. There is nothing down here to generate wind unless a thing stirs that cannot possibly be stirring.
