MacGoren had been injured in the catalyzing event of the Guildhouse destruction. He bore scars from a blast of pure essence that had hit him. His once-handsome face, which had turned heads on the fey social scene, had been scorched smooth. The bones of his cheeks stood out, hard-edged and bleached. His hairline had been burned back, the hair that he had prided himself on was now an odd sweep of blond that hung lank from the top of his head. The most dramatic change, though, was that his eyes had crystallized. The same thing had happened to me, but only my irises had been affected. With macGoren, the eyes had vanished beneath an almost insectlike faceted layer of glittering membrane over the entire surfaces.
Beyond his previous good looks, I never understood what Keeva saw in him. His power was obvious, but Keeva had the looks and brains to attract anyone. Yet she chose macGoren.
MacGoren managed to retain his smug arrogance. “I hope you’re not comfortable.”
I faced him through the barrier. “What do you intend to do, macGoren? Word’s going to get out that I’m missing. There will be fallout.”
He snorted. “Fallout? You staged a major terrorist act on the Guildhouse. Do you think the public is going to rally to your pathetic cries of innocence?”
“The State Department might have a problem with Brion Mal kidnapping an American citizen,” I said.
His smile made stippled lines in his cheeks. “Do you think we would have used someone as high-profile as Mal if we were worried about the human government?”
MacGoren had brought Vize into the Guildhouse despite my warnings. He didn’t listen to me then. He wasn’t going to now. “I tried to stop you from making a fool of yourself. Enough witnesses survived that know you were the one who let Vize in and I was the one who tried to stop you.”
His eyes shifted, a disconcerting movement that left me with nothing to focus on. He could be staring at me or the wall behind me. “No one cares, Grey. The Elven King is dead. Maeve has won. No one will criticize anything she does. We attacked that traitor Eagan in his own home with human support without any repercussions. You don’t matter. You’re a clean-up detail.”
While we talked, I scanned the barrier. A good punch with a full body shield sometimes collapsed a barrier, but macGoren knew what he was doing. The barrier was stable, without any flaws. “If I don’t matter, then why am I here?”
He chuckled. “Ah, but that’s thing, Grey. You’re not here. You’re not anywhere. You went into hiding by your own choice.”
“You’re going to keep me locked up? As usual, macGoren, your plans are pointless. Stop the games and let me out. If what you or Maeve says is true, prove it in public,” I said.
If possible, his stiff face became more unreadable. “You think I am pointless, that I am a fool. Do you have any idea who you are looking at, Grey? I am one of the most powerful fey in the Seelie Court now. Brion Mal does my bidding. I have exposed the Teutonic Consortium in an act of war. No human government will ally with them now. I have given my queen her greatest victory since Convergence. She is well pleased.”
“You know the problem with making a queen happy, macGoren? It’s only a matter of time before you make her unhappy. Maeve’s used you.”
He laughed. “You think I don’t know that? That is what loyal subjects do, Grey. We exist to serve our liege. That’s something you seem to have forgotten.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I was never her subject, macGoren. I have better things to do than lick someone’s boots.”
“It’s that perspective that makes you a failure, Grey, why you have always been a failure. When you garner as much favor as I have, you acquire power. The trick, which you have never learned, is to earn enough power to become untouchable. I have Maeve’s favor. With the Elven King gone, nothing stands in her way. She needs me more than ever, and I will not fail her.”
“This isn’t Faerie. It isn’t even Ireland,” I said. “Even if the humans side with her against the Consortium, they might have a problem with a queen using a U.S. city as her playground.”
His eyes glittered with a yellow light. “You misunderstand, Grey. Maeve is done with you. The Elven King has been exposed. She no longer needs to lay blame at your feet. You have outlived your usefulness.”
“Great. It’s nice to know she’s moved on. Now what do you want?” I asked.
MacGoren lifted his arm to show me a dagger—my dagger, the one Briallen had given me. “Justice. Revenge. Call it what you like.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re threatening me?”
MacGoren held the dagger up, focusing his strange eyes on it. “Not at all. I’m stating the facts of the situation,” he said.
With the speed that comes with the nature of a Danann, he swiped the dagger through the protection barrier, then back. I flinched, the slice of the blade leaving a stinging sensation on my cheek. I touched my face, and my hand came away with blood. Belatedly, my body shield activated.
“That was childish,” I said.
“This blade is quite interesting, Grey. Ancient, if I’m not mistaken.” He jabbed forward. It pierced my shield and nicked my ear. I backed away, putting as much distance as possible between myself and the barrier.
MacGoren returned his attention to the dagger. “It may appear that my vision is damaged, Grey, and in some sense it is. They say when one sense is deadened, the others compensate. Take now. I see strange essence on this blade that I am sure is not visible to others. Notice the way it slices through the essence barrier as if it weren’t there.”
He swept his arm in front of me. My shield creased and crackled with white light. He stepped back. “I was under the impression from Nigel that you no longer had a body shield.”
“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” I said.
He pursed his lips. “True, but here’s something I can guess.” He held his free hand up and pressed against the barrier. His palm glowed with pale fire, and the barrier shimmered toward me. MacGoren stepped forward. “I’m willing to wager that your offensive abilities remain ineffective.”
I steadied my gaze at him. “Drop the barrier and find out.”
I didn’t see him move. Beneath my open jacket, the fabric of my T-shirt split with another swipe of the blade. MacGoren kept up that annoying chuckle of his like he was a cat playing with a mouse. “I’m sure you think you can best me in a physical contest, Grey, but I am not interested in a test of strength. I am interested in watching you suffer.”
He stabbed again. I gasped and clutched at my arm. The swipe had cut through the leather to hit skin. “Coward,” I said.
The door opened behind him. Keeva paused on the threshold, her expression alert and assessing. MacGoren cocked his head without turning. “Hello, love. I did not expect you for another hour or so.”
“Obviously,” she said.
Her manner indicated that Keeva didn’t know what was going on. She wasn’t in on his plan. He covered his discomfort with a feigned pleasantness that I saw through easily. I knew Keeva had to see it, too. “How did you know I was here?” he asked.
She held up my old steel dagger. “This looked a little lonely. I was curious.”
“I’m settling some old scores with our guest,” he said.
Several emotions crossed her face—annoyance, anger, and, oddly, I thought I sensed fear. “I have a few myself,” she said.
A sending fluttered through the room. MacGoren gave her a curious look, and, for several moments, sendings fluttered back and forth between them. MacGoren nodded with an understanding smile. “As you wish, my love. I’ve made my point, but you deserve the honor more than I.”
With a flip of his wrist, he presented the handle of the dagger to her. Keeva stared at it, turning the weapon in her hand as if she had never seen a dagger before. She lifted her gaze and met my eyes. “It comes to this.”