“Right,” Molly said, blinking a little. Then she followed me back over to Sarissa.
She gave me a nervous smile, and her fingers resettled on the mug a couple of times. “Harry.”
“I didn’t realize you made house calls all the way to Chicago,” I said.
“I wish it were that,” she said.
I nodded. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I was given directions,” she said.
“By who?”
She swallowed and looked down at the tabletop. “The Redcap.”
I sat back slowly in my seat. “Maybe you’d better tell me what happened.”
“He came for me,” she said quietly, without meeting my eyes. “He came this morning. I was hooded, bound, and taken somewhere. I don’t know where. I was there for several hours. Then he came back, took my hood off, and sent me here. With this.”
She reached down to her lap and put a plain white envelope on the table. She pushed it toward me.
I took it. It wasn’t sealed. I opened it, frowned, and then turned it upside down over the table.
Several tufts of hair bound with small bits of string fell out, along with a small metal object.
Molly drew in a sharp breath.
“He said to tell you that he’s taken your friends,” Sarissa said quietly.
I picked up the tufts of hair one at a time. Wiry black, slightly crinkled hairs, sprinkled with silver ones. Butters. Red hairs, luscious and curly. Andi. And a long, soft, slightly wavy lock of pure white hair. I lifted it to my nose and sniffed. Strawberries. I let out a soft curse.
“Who?” Molly asked, her voice worried.
“Justine,” I said.
“Oh, God.”
I picked up the metal object. It was a plain bottle cap, slightly dented where it had been removed.
“And Mac,” I said quietly. “He had someone following me everywhere I went. He took someone from each place.”
“He told me to tell you,” Sarissa said, “that he’ll trade them all for you, if you surrender to him before sundown.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
“He’ll give their bones to the rawhead,” she whispered.
Chapter
Thirty-six
Silence fell.
“Okay,” I said into it. “I’ve just about had enough of that clown.”
Molly looked up at me, her eyes worried. “You sure?”
“Guy gets his jollies dipping his hat in people’s blood,” I said.
“You can bargain with the Sidhe sometimes,” Molly said.
“But not this time,” I said, my voice hard. “If we do, he’ll keep the letter of his word and he’ll make sure they don’t make it out anyway. The only way we’re getting our friends back is to take them away from him.”
Molly grimaced, but after a moment, she nodded.
I picked up the clumps of hair and put them in a neat row on the table. “Molly.”
“On it,” she said, collecting them.
“What are you doing?” Sarissa asked, her eyes wide.
“The jerk was kind enough to give me some fresh cuttings from my friends,” I said. “I’m going to use them to track him down and thwart him.”
“Thwart?” Sarissa asked.
“Thwart,” I said. “To prevent someone from accomplishing something by means of visiting gratuitous violence upon his smarmy person.”
“I’m pretty sure that isn’t the definition,” Sarissa said.
“It is today.” I raised my voice. “Cat Sith. I need your assistance, please.”
Sarissa went completely still when I spoke, like a rabbit who has sensed a nearby predator. Her eyes widened, then flicked around the room, seeking escape.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “I’m getting along with him.”
“You’re a wizard and the Winter Knight,” Sarissa hissed. “You have no idea how vicious that creature is, and I don’t have the Queen’s aegis protecting me.”
“You have mine,” I said. I raised my voice, annoyed. “Cat Sith! Kittykittykittykitty!”
“Are you insane?” Sarissa hissed.
“He might not be able to get through, Harry,” Molly said. “It’s not just a threshold here. The svartalves have wards over the building as well.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “Be right back.”
I went out and looked around, but Sith didn’t appear. I called his name a third time, which as we all know is the charm. With beings of the Nevernever it’s a literal truth. I mean, it’s not an irresistible force, like gravity—it’s more like a kind of obsessive-compulsive disorder that happens to be present, to varying degrees, in most of them. They respond, strongly, to things that happen in threes, be they requests, insults, or commands. So in a way, three really is a magic number.
Hell. Just ask ménage-à-Thomas. Jerk.
I waited for a while, even going so far as to turn about and take a few steps backward before turning forward again, just to give Sith some really rich opportunities to appear abruptly and startle me.
Except he didn’t.
I got a slow, squirmy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The rain was still falling in spits and showers, but the clouds had begun to gain the tint of a slow autumn sundown. Sith had always appeared almost instantly before.
Had Mab been setting me up? Had she given me the eldest malk’s assistance so that she could pull the rug out from under me when I needed Sith the most? Had she gotten the Nemesis brainmold?
I hadn’t seen Sith since the confrontation at the gardens. Had the enemy Sidhe brought him down?
Or worse, the adversary?
I felt actively sick to my stomach. If Cat Sith had been turned, there was no telling how much damage he might cause. Especially to me.
I felt a little stupid about the kittykittykitty thing. Hopefully, he hadn’t been listening.
I went back into the apartment, pensive.
Molly gave me an inquiring look.
I shook my head.
Molly frowned at that; I could see the gears whirling in her brain.
“Okay,” I said. “Plan B. Lacuna, come here, if you please.”
After a moment, a little voice said from the direction of my room, “What if I don’t please?”
“You come here anyway,” I stated. “It’s a human thing.”
She made a disgusted noise and came zipping out of the room on her blurring wings. “What do you want me to do?”
“You can read,” I said. “Can you read a map? Write?”
“Yes.”
“You’re on house duty, then,” I said. “If any of the Little Folk come back with a location where a rite is taking place, I want you to write down their descriptions and mark the location on the map. Can you do that?”
Lacuna looked dubiously at the maps spread out on the table. “I think so. Probably. Maybe.”
“And no fighting or duels.”
“What about when I’m done writing things?”
“No.”
Lacuna folded her little arms and scowled at me. “You aren’t fun at all.”
“Your breath smells like celery,” I replied. “Molly, how are those spells coming along?”
“I think there’s some kind of counterspell hiding them,” she said. “It’s tricky, so stop bumping my elbow. I’m concentrating over here.”
I let out an impatient breath and fought against a surge of anger. She was the apprentice and I was the wizard. There were wizards who would have beaten unconscious any apprentice who spoke to them like that. I’d always been kind to her—maybe too kind—and this disrespect was what I got in return? I should educate her to respect her betters.
I made a low growling sound in my chest and clenched my fists. That impulse wasn’t mine. It was Winter’s. Molly and I had a relationship built on structure, trust, and respect—not fear. We had always bantered back and forth like that.
But something in me wanted to . . . I don’t know. Put her in her place. Take out my frustrations on her. Show her which of us was the strongest. And it had a really primitive idea of how to make that happen.