To the left and right the cobbled street is swept clean. Theres no riot-detritus outside Barronss establishment. No husks left from Shades gorging. No trash. Planters line the cobbled street, and there are small plants trying to grow in them, valiantly fighting the uncommon chill. The entry to the tall, deep brick building is drenched in dark cherry and brass and polished to a high gloss. The place is Old World and urbane as the dude himself, with pillars and wrought-iron latticework and a great big heavy door with fancy sidelights and a transom that I used to bang through, and sometimes Id go in and out, in and out, just to hear the bell above the door tinkle. It sounded really cool in fast-mo, used to crack me up.
A hand-painted shingle hangs perpendicular to the sidewalk, suspended by an elaborate brass pole bolted into the brick above the door alcove, swaying in a light breeze.
Amber lights glow behind glass panes tinged with a hint of green.
Its all I can do not to go banging in that door, say, Dude, whats up?
Im never going to bang in that door again.
Get us out of here, I say crossly.
Cant. This is where we need to be. And what the bloody hell is up with that?
I look at him. Hes looking up at the roof of BB&B, where dozens of enormous floodlights shine down into the street. I have to back up a few steps to see past them and see what hes seeing because Im so much shorter. I gape. What the feck are ZEWs doing here? The entire roof of BB&B is covered with Zombie Eating Wraiths. Hulking anorexic vultures, with creepily hunched bodies and a gaunt grimness that defies description, they huddle in their voluminous black robes, dusted with dirt and cobwebs, unmoving. Carrion-eaters, packed shoulder-to-shoulder, theyre as fixedly still as a deathwatch. Im not sure I would have even noticed them if Christian hadnt pointed them out. Theyre not chittering and its somehow worse that theyre silent. Why they hanging out on Macs roof like that?
How the fuck would I know? Sorry, lass. I mean, how would I know?
You can say fuck around me. Everybody does. And youd know because youre Unseelie.
Not completely, not yet and not originally. Thats a lot of nots. And just because the rest of the men in this city are pigs doesnt mean I am. Theres another not for you. Im bloody well made of nots tonight. Im not the monster being hunted either.
I give him a look. His eyes are wild. This is a dude on serious edge, teetering, arms pinwheeling. So, what are we doing here? I try to bring some focus back to the conversation.
He doesnt answer me. Just stalks off, straight toward the bookstore, and right when Im about tofreeze-frame it out of there because theres no way Im going inside, even if nobodys home, he turns sharp and heads down the alley between BB&B and the neighboring Dark Zone.
If you want to stop the Hoar Frost King, youll have to come with me, lass. Im taking you to the Unseelie Kings library. If there are answers to be had, theyll be found there.
The Unseelie Kings library! Holy borrowing bibliophile, lets book! I take one last look up at the ZEWs and freeze-frame to catch up. If Macs in the bookstore, she wont notice the blur that just passed her door. I shiver as I chase after him. Its fecking cold tonight. I more than want to stop the Hoar Frost King. Ive got to. Its getting downright frigid in Dublin and I got a terrible feeling its going to get a lot worse.
When Christian pushes into the brick wall of the building catty-corner to the rear of BB&Bfirst left on the Dark Zone sideand disappears, I melt down in a fit of the giggles. I toss a rock at the spot where he vanished. It bounces off the brick and clatters to the cobblestone. Im feeling twenty shades of Harry Potters train station, especially when he pokes his head back out of the wall and says impatiently, Come on, lass. This is hardly my favorite place to be.
I approach the wall and study it, trying to decide if Id be able to find the spot again without knowing exactly where it was. His head disappears. I wouldnt. I want to chalk a big X on it, in case I need it again, but that would betray its location to everyone else, too, being as X marks the spot and all, so I back up partway down the alley and lock the scene down on my mental grid, permanent-like. I got that kind of memory. If I deliberately file something, I can always find it again. Hard part is remembering to deliberately file it. Im usually so excited by the life Im living I forget to take pictures.
Then I follow him in. Dude! I step into a brick wall! Its the freakiest thing Ive ever felt. Like its a sponge and Im a sponge and for a second there all our sponge parts are one and I dont just have square pants, everything about me is squarish because Im part of a wall, then Im me again and the wall kind of squirts me out on the other side in a completely white room.
White floor, white ceiling, white walls. Inside the white room are ten mirrors. Just like that. Standing there, in thin air. You can circle all the way around them. Nothing is holding them up that I can see. Theyre all different sizes and shapes, in different frames. Some of the glass surfaces are dark as pitch and you cant see a thing. Others swirl with silver fog but the things that move in their cloudy shadows are too fast and strange to define.
A hand-painted shingle hangs perpendicular to the sidewalk, suspended by an elaborate brass pole bolted into the brick above the door alcove, swaying in a light breeze.
Amber lights glow behind glass panes tinged with a hint of green.
Its all I can do not to go banging in that door, say, Dude, whats up?
Im never going to bang in that door again.
Get us out of here, I say crossly.
Cant. This is where we need to be. And what the bloody hell is up with that?
I look at him. Hes looking up at the roof of BB&B, where dozens of enormous floodlights shine down into the street. I have to back up a few steps to see past them and see what hes seeing because Im so much shorter. I gape. What the feck are ZEWs doing here? The entire roof of BB&B is covered with Zombie Eating Wraiths. Hulking anorexic vultures, with creepily hunched bodies and a gaunt grimness that defies description, they huddle in their voluminous black robes, dusted with dirt and cobwebs, unmoving. Carrion-eaters, packed shoulder-to-shoulder, theyre as fixedly still as a deathwatch. Im not sure I would have even noticed them if Christian hadnt pointed them out. Theyre not chittering and its somehow worse that theyre silent. Why they hanging out on Macs roof like that?
How the fuck would I know? Sorry, lass. I mean, how would I know?
You can say fuck around me. Everybody does. And youd know because youre Unseelie.
Not completely, not yet and not originally. Thats a lot of nots. And just because the rest of the men in this city are pigs doesnt mean I am. Theres another not for you. Im bloody well made of nots tonight. Im not the monster being hunted either.
I give him a look. His eyes are wild. This is a dude on serious edge, teetering, arms pinwheeling. So, what are we doing here? I try to bring some focus back to the conversation.
He doesnt answer me. Just stalks off, straight toward the bookstore, and right when Im about tofreeze-frame it out of there because theres no way Im going inside, even if nobodys home, he turns sharp and heads down the alley between BB&B and the neighboring Dark Zone.
If you want to stop the Hoar Frost King, youll have to come with me, lass. Im taking you to the Unseelie Kings library. If there are answers to be had, theyll be found there.
The Unseelie Kings library! Holy borrowing bibliophile, lets book! I take one last look up at the ZEWs and freeze-frame to catch up. If Macs in the bookstore, she wont notice the blur that just passed her door. I shiver as I chase after him. Its fecking cold tonight. I more than want to stop the Hoar Frost King. Ive got to. Its getting downright frigid in Dublin and I got a terrible feeling its going to get a lot worse.
When Christian pushes into the brick wall of the building catty-corner to the rear of BB&Bfirst left on the Dark Zone sideand disappears, I melt down in a fit of the giggles. I toss a rock at the spot where he vanished. It bounces off the brick and clatters to the cobblestone. Im feeling twenty shades of Harry Potters train station, especially when he pokes his head back out of the wall and says impatiently, Come on, lass. This is hardly my favorite place to be.
I approach the wall and study it, trying to decide if Id be able to find the spot again without knowing exactly where it was. His head disappears. I wouldnt. I want to chalk a big X on it, in case I need it again, but that would betray its location to everyone else, too, being as X marks the spot and all, so I back up partway down the alley and lock the scene down on my mental grid, permanent-like. I got that kind of memory. If I deliberately file something, I can always find it again. Hard part is remembering to deliberately file it. Im usually so excited by the life Im living I forget to take pictures.
Then I follow him in. Dude! I step into a brick wall! Its the freakiest thing Ive ever felt. Like its a sponge and Im a sponge and for a second there all our sponge parts are one and I dont just have square pants, everything about me is squarish because Im part of a wall, then Im me again and the wall kind of squirts me out on the other side in a completely white room.
White floor, white ceiling, white walls. Inside the white room are ten mirrors. Just like that. Standing there, in thin air. You can circle all the way around them. Nothing is holding them up that I can see. Theyre all different sizes and shapes, in different frames. Some of the glass surfaces are dark as pitch and you cant see a thing. Others swirl with silver fog but the things that move in their cloudy shadows are too fast and strange to define.
