July 5, 2011
Alex, an oatmeal crème pie doesn’t’ count as breakfast.” Falin said, staring at the prepackaged sweet as if it had offended him.
I shrugged, “Don’t knock it,” I said. I perched in the one chair I owned and opened my laptop. I’d put fresh sheets on the bed and I hoped Falin would get a little more rest. He might have some super-fae healing powers, but the glimpses I’d caught of him unglamoured proved he still needed some recuperation time.
“So, did I draw the queen’s attention with the tear or the castle?”
“Castle?” Falin’s eyebrow lifted, and while he might have been faking ignorance, he sounded genuinely confused.
I shook my head, dismissing the question. “Okay, so I’m guessing this has something to do with the tear.”
“Something? This has everything to do with the tear. What were you thinking, merging realities in the middle of a crowded street?”
“Uh, I was thinking Holly was about to get shredded,” I said as I dug through my purse in search of the charmed disk. “What kind of fallout am I looking at?”
“Well, you drew the attention of at least two faerie courts. They are asking questions.”
“I’m guessing their curiosity would be bad for my health?”
Falin set the untouched oatmeal crème pie aside. Then he propped my pillows against the wall and reclined against them, his hands behind his head. “If not your health, then definitely your freedom. If the courts realize what you can do, you’ll likely end up sequestered in Faerie.”
Sequestered? I was not a fan of that outcome. I retrieved the disk and set my purse aside.
“Fred said, ‘They come.’ Think that’s about the courts?”
Falin opened his eyes, which had drifted closed while we spoke. “Who’s Fred?”
“Oh, uh, the gargoyle?” I shrugged. “I sort of named it.”
He stared at me, and then burst out laughing. “The winged one with the cat face?” At my nod he laughed harder, which made him wince and grasp his injured side. “You realize that particular gargoyle is female and holds a position among gargoyles similar to that of a high priestess or a grand oracle?”
“Oh.” I guess that explained why she’d seemed so amused when I’d named her. But she’d refused to give me a name to call her, and it was hard to converse with someone who didn’t have a name – even if that someone happened to be made of stone. “Anyway,” I said, “just before I found you last, night, she told me, ‘They come.”
“That’s a fairly vague warning.”
“Tell me about it.”