Page 38 of Evil Eyed
“It just blows my mind that he’s been sitting back watching me for years. Just waiting. Through Vivi, he would have known that I was miserable in my marriage. Did he know that Jonathan was a changeling? Did he realize his true identity? For that matter, does he know who my true mother is? Or my father?”
“I’m sure that he suspects quite a lot of things,” Warwick replied. “You managed to survive what no mortal would have been able to endure. He may not have known exactly who the changeling was, but I guarantee that he knew everything there was to know about the human Jonathan Blake, and he would have found the man’s history as suspicious as we did. Evil Eye is a master at manipulation and court intrigue, and he’s older than you can even imagine. The longer you stayed alive, the more he would have begun to suspect that you were no ordinary mortal treasurekeeper.”
At least Warwick looked more like himself. His voice sounded firmer, and he wasn’t quite as shiny, though his usually vibrant, flowing hair seemed duller than usual and hung flat to his body. “Do you need to revive your power in the Summer Isle?”
He blew out a sigh. “I do, at least for a short time, or I’m afraid that I’ll be completely worthless.”
“I’ve never seen a leprechaun sweat like that,” Aidan drawled, looking back at us in the rearview mirror from the driver’s seat. “You still look like shit.”
“That wasn’t sweat.” Warwick huffed out, tossing his head slightly to stir his lifeless hair about his shoulders. “I merely glistened.”
Keane laughed, shaking his head. “And I’m only ever going to take a single bite.”
“Those wards were formidable. Ifmo stórhadn’t invoked me gold oath, I couldn’t have penetrated the building at all.”
That didn’t make me feel better. At all. “That should have been the first clue, then. We should have stayed far away.”
“Fuck the police,” all four treasures said in unison.
Aidan couldn’t help but mutter, “I told you so,” under his breath.
I blew out a frustrated sigh. “You were right.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Warwick said. “There be many institutions in the mortal realm as heavily warded.”
“The Church,” Doran said grimly. “Your White House and Supreme Court. Buckingham Palace. Mecca. Shanghai Tower.”
“But also Stonehenge, Newgrange, and other stone circles,” Keane added. “The pyramids at Giza. Machu Picchu. Not all are warded for ill.”
I frowned, trying to follow along. “If Evil Eye’s headquarters, so to speak, was the police station we just left, then why are all those other human places warded? I could get maybe the wonders of the world, but government offices?”
“The mortal realm falls further into darkness with each passing moment,” Doran replied. “Most of those places were long ago lost to darkness or corrupted to be used for ill.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You mean the entire United States government is ran by dark fae? Under Evil Eye?”
“Not precisely,” Doran began, though Aidan said, “Exactly,” at the same time.
“Evil Eye is just one reflection of darkness in this world.” Ivarr’s voice echoed with sorrow. “He’sourbattle, the legendary Irish treasures, but there are other battles to be won.”
“And we’re all fucking losing,” Aidan growled. “Even if we somehow manage to force Evil Eye back to Faerie, there’ll be more darkness to take his place. It’s a losing battle we wage.”
“Yet we fight, and hope, and live another day,” Doran said.
“It all just seems so… so…”
“Useless? Sheer folly and stupidity?” Aidan barked out a harsh laugh as he turned off the freeway. “Aye, all the above, and yet there’s the barest glimmer of hope that brings the warriors back, again and again, hoping that this time we may yet make a difference.” He looked up in the mirror again, capturing my gaze with his fierce intensity. “For us, that difference is you. I would come back again a million times if that meant I would see you again.”
22
Given Keane’s gift in the kitchen, I supposed it was only natural for his domain to become our war room. Aidan, Doran, and I sat at the island while Keane and Ivarr worked some magic to restore my spirits. Though I couldn’t imagine any confection or dish they produced could ever make me feel better.
Not while Vivi was in danger.
Warwick had poofed back to the Summer Isle to soak in some magic and regain his strength. He promised to speak to Queen Morgan and see if she had any advice or help that she could provide. I wanted to talk to Vanta again, but I couldn’t muster up the focus or strength yet. My mind was too frantic and disjointed, flitting from one thought to another. Random things that didn’t even make sense.
I remembered lying in Vivi’s little twin bed and giggling under the blankets, telling stories and reading books by flashlight. My dread at showing anyone my first “serious” artwork, terribly afraid that it was horrible. Unable to voice the tiny speck of hope that burned inside me to become an artist. To live wild and free on a canvas—so unlike our boring, average lives.
She’d always believed in me. Encouraging my shyly whispered dream, no matter how fantastical.
