“Dead?” I choke out. “Why?”

“Only two in all existence could ever travel through that Silver: the Unseelie King and his concubine. Any other that touches it is instantly killed. Even Fae.”

The Dani Daily—102 Days AWC …

I glare down at the sheet of paper, but ’cept for the title of my rag and the date, nothing’s coming. Nothing’s been coming for a feckin’ hour.

Here I sit in the abbey’s dining hall, in the middle of this brainless feckin’ herd of sidhe-sheep that are so easily led they should wear feckin’ halters and waggle fluffy sheep asses, and the words just ain’t coming. And they got to. I gotta take up the slack ’til Mac gets back. Stupid sheep are back to obeying Ro and she’s yanked ’em back in line again, got ’em all busy trying to clear the feckin’ Shades from the abbey.

News flash dudes, I keep telling you, they’re reproducing. They eat, they grow, they split. Like feckin’ amoebas. I been tracking ’em. I been watching ’em so hard I can tell ’em apart now. ’Times I play with ’em, mess with the lights, see how close they can really get to me. That’s how I know so much about ’em, but nobody listens to me. Only time I’m heard is when they read my paper. They don’t talk ’bout it, but everybody’s using the Shade-Busters now. Anybody say thanks?

Nope. Not a single “good job, Mega,” not even the teeniest little acknowledgment that I invented ’em.

I need Mac. Been nearly a month and I’m starting to worry that she’s … Nah, ain’t going there.

But where the feck is she? Ain’t seen her since we broke into the Forbidden Libraries together. She in Faery again? She don’t know it, but I read her journal when she was locked up in that cell, Pri-ya, and nobody was paying attention to her stuff ’cept Ro. She read it, too. But I took it back. Had to know what Ro knew. It’s one of my hang-ups: I gotta know everything Ro knows and figure out where she’s going ’fore she goes there. If I can do that, dude, I can run this place!

I know time spent in Faery don’t move the same way as time in the real world, so I ain’t as worried about Mac as I might be. See, V’lane’s gone, too, so I figure she’s with him.

Weird thing is, I keep stopping by BB&B and it looks like Barrons is gone, too!

Tried to get in to Chester’s last night to ask about him, but the stupid feckin’ feckers bounced me at the door.

Me. The Mega!

I grin and swagger a little in my seat.

It took six of ’em! Six of Barrons’ freaky fecks had to work their arses off to keep me out, and we went at it for over an hour.

I wouldn’ta given up at all but that kinda freeze-framing starves me, and I didn’t have enough candy bars crammed in my pockets. Got hungry. Had to eat. Said screw it and left. One of ’em followed me to Dublin’s edge, like he thought he was throwing me outta the city—as if! I’ll try again soon.

Still, I’m getting a little worried.…

Where the feck did everybody go? Why ain’t nobody talking about the LM anymore? Where’s the Sinsar Dubh?

’S been quiet, way too quiet, and that creeps the feck outta me. Only other time things got this quiet … yeah, well—dude—the past ain’t me.

What’s already happened is for has-beens.

I’m all about the future. Tomorrow’s my day.

Today sure as feck ain’t. I ain’t never had it before, but s’pect I got writer’s block. S’pect it’s ’cause I been sitting here watching a couple hundred sidhe-sheep do the equivalent of knit. Got an assembly line set up in the dining hall, making iron bullets. But get this—not for us!

For Jayne and his Guardians.

Don’t know how Ro managed to make ’em all scared of their shadows again, but she did. Little things she says make ’em doubt themselves. Only took her two weeks after Mac disappeared to convince ’em all Mac was dead and to give up on her.

Sheep, I tell ya! Takes everything I got not to stand up, waggle my ass, and yell: Baaaaa!

But I guess the sheep shit’s too deep in here for me to move, ’cause I sit and chew on my pen and wait for inspiration.

While I’m biding time, I watch Jo. Used to be friends with her. Thought she had a mind of her own. She’s smart, real smart. Puts things together the other sheep don’t.

But she got weird a few months back. Started hanging all the time with Barb and Liz and never had time for me anymore. Used to be she was the only one didn’t treat me like a baby. Used to be they all treated me like a kid. Now they hardly treat me at all. Nobody sits at my table.

Good feckin’ thing, too! Ain’t no room for sheep at my table.

Jo’s sittin’ real quiet, watching Liz. Watching her hard.

I wonder if she turned lezbo or somethin’ and that explains why she changed. Came out of her closet and moved on, maybe got herself a menage twat with Liz and Barb. I snicker at my joke. Dude, if ya can’t crack yourself up, ain’t never gonna crack anybody else up.

At first, the gunshots are so faint that even my superhearing don’t register what they are. Then, when I do, I sorta figure Barrons’ dudes musta come back for some reason and, like last time, they’re firing warning shots. Even though we got a shitload of Uzis and other guns, we got no use for ’em here. Only in Dublin. They don’t work on Shades. We don’t bring our guns into the abbey. We leave ’em on the bus.

Dawning on me quick now how stupid that is.

Later, I find out it started at the west end of the abbey. Started where Mac slept when she stayed here, where I been sleeping lately, in the Dragon Lady’s Library.

When the screaming begins, I freeze-frame into motion but with caution: Automatic gunfire is something I gotta factor in to my superspeed equation.

I’m fast, but, dude, the rat-a-tat-tat of that kinda spray is feckin’ fast, too. Tough to dodge. And what I’m hearing is constant.

I’m in one of the corridors, heading for the screams, but suddenly everything is as dark as it must be where Rowena’s head is—straight up her ass. I snicker again. I’m cracking myself up tonight.

I stop, plaster against the wall, and start moving like a Joe. Watching, straining to see down the dark corridor. I ain’t got my ’Halo, but I got a couple flashlights in my pockets. I pull one out, click it on.

We ain’t never got all the Shades outta the abbey. Nobody puts on their boots without shining flashlights in ’em and shaking ’em out real good first. And then only in broad daylight.

Nobody—but nobody—walks down dark halls here.

So why’s it dark and who the feck is doing all that shooting?

Lots of moaning. Lots of wounded. Ain’t warning shots. This is the real deal.

I take a Joe step forward, quiet as I can. Glass crunches beneath my high-tops, and I know why it’s dark. Shooter took out the lights.

I hear a soft, awful laugh that makes my blood run cold. I shine my flashlight down the dark hall, and the darkness kinda absorbs it.

I hear somebody breathing fast.

I hear more glass crunching and it ain’t me.

Pretty sure the shooter’s headed straight for me!

I flex my fingers, curl ’em tight around my sword. Ro tried to take it away. Told her I’d be her own personal guard if she let me keep it. I stand watch while she sleeps. I’m learning about tradeoffs.

What the feck is moving down the hall at me?

Later, when I tell the story, I don’t tell the whole truth.

Truth is, the unthinkable happened. I got scared in that dark hall. I felt something coming and it freaked me.

I say I never got to the corridor.

Never admit I backed out with my tail tucked between my legs, retreated to the light, and then freeze-framed back to the dining hall.

The shooting starts again and so does the screaming and we all run, but there’s only one way out and that’s the way in, so we’re knocking over tables and scrambling behind ’em.