always to your advantage. It took me a hundred years to get to this point.”
Amused, I flexed an eyebrow. “You have a slight advantage over me in the time department.”
She released an exasperated sigh. “I know you see my point.”
I moved behind her. “I do. I honestly do. But after everything that’s happened, I can’t walk away. I’ve lost so much, Eorla. I don’t want to lose my home, too.”
Eorla held her hand up, her brow furrowed. “Something’s happening.”
Outside the window, the mist wall had become agitated, streaks of white and red slicing through the other colors. The streaks surged across the face of the wall like storm patterns, cyclones forming and breaking apart, thick bands of color marching through everything in their paths. The essence brightened, the colors muting as the surrounding areas became white with heat. “It’s building in strength. Has someone attacked it?”
“I’m not getting any reports,” Eorla said.
The army helicopters danced in the energy currents and pulled higher to stabilize themselves. I directed Eorla’s attention to the airport. The army units stationed near the end of the tarmac were scrambling into trucks and more helicopters. “That doesn’t look good.”
Someone knocked and opened the door. Rand—Dylan, actually—joined us by the window. “The facility is on full alert, Your Majesty.”
“Brion Mal is head of Maeve’s forces. Get him online and explain our stance in case this isn’t the Guild’s doing, Rand,” she said.
Dylan peered at the mist wall. Now that I knew he wore a glamour, I couldn’t look at him and call him Rand. At the same time, it was odd calling him Dylan when he looked like an elf. “Our calls to the Guild are unanswered.”
“I guess that answers its own question,” I said.
“Where’s Bastian? He’s not answering my sendings,” she said.
“Our reports indicate he is en route to the airport,” Dylan said.
“Something about rats and ships is tickling at my memory,” I said.
“No, if Bastian knew something, he would not have waited this long. I’ll wager he’s as confused by this as we are,” Eorla said.
The mist wall had lost all color, becoming a sheet of solid white light. The top rose and shredded, great spires of essence spewing upward. “I don’t like this. We should….”
The wall exploded. Essence billowed across the water in a towering white wall of heat twenty stories high. Dylan and I dragged Eorla away from the window as she gathered essence in her hands. We grappled, trying to see out the window and get out of each other’s way until we tumbled to the floor. The building trembled as the essence surge hit. Glass shattered with a concussive roar, shards flying everywhere, sparkling against our body shields as they slid away. Ceiling tiles scattered with the wind as cabling pulled free.
It was over in a cloud of dust. Dylan sat up coughing, a fine film of white grit covering his red uniform. Eorla was on her feet already, staring out the gaping hole that had been the window. I pushed ceiling tiles off me and joined her. The mist wall was gone.
“Danu’s blood,” I said.
Ships filled the inner harbor, hundreds of fey ships, low-hulled and shining with amber, their masts a forest across the water. The air rippled and glimmered with the light of Celtic warriors, rank upon rank of fairy clans spread across the sky in an uncountable host. Across their leading edge, a dozen Danann fairies hovered, their body signatures burning with an intensity that outshone everything. Brion Mal had not come to the U.S. alone. The entire Queen’s Fianna was with him.
A deep rumble echoed through the air and the building shuddered. “That’s artillery fire,” I said.
“The National Guard is firing on the front of the building,” Dylan said.
Eorla crossed her arms. “So they have thrown in with Maeve at last. I shouldn’t be surprised. Donor played his hand wrong from the beginning.”
The building shuddered again. Over the harbor, the army helicopters had turned and faced the city. I took Eorla by the elbow. “We need to get out of here.”
“The evacuation is already in progress. Show Connor to the tunnel. I will join you at the bunker in thirty minutes,” she said.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
She smiled. “This is not an unforeseen contingency. Follow our friend, please. I do not have time for you right now.”
She gave me her back, scanning the skies with her dark eyes. So many sendings rippled in the air that someone with the slightest ability would sense them. I stared, struck once again at the steel in Eorla. She knew how to commit to her goals. “Good luck, Eorla,” I said.
She acknowledged me with a slight nod but didn’t turn. “Be well, Connor.”
37
The building shook with multiple hits of artillery fire. Thick dust filled the air as Dylan led me down a back stairwell. “What is she going to do, Dyl?”
“Retaliate,” he said.
“Yeah, I figured that part out,” I said.
We reached the lobby level and kept going down. “It is not my place to discuss it if Her Majesty did not.”
“Suddenly, you’ve decided who you’re loyal to? At least tell me where we are going,” I said.
Dylan popped the door to a basement hallway. He pointed toward another flight of stairs. “You are going down there. Turn right and continue through the access tunnel until you reach the exit.”
I hesitated. I trusted Dylan macBain with my life. He trusted me with his. “Come on, Dyl. War’s breaking out up there. Clue me in.”
Even beneath the glamour that made him look so different from the man I knew, I could see a crack in his resolve. “I know you, Connor. I know you want to know why and how and where and all that. But we’ve made different choices here. I promise you this: I will never hurt you.”
“Then tell me what’s going on,” I said.
He shook his head. “We have no time. I will tell you this because I know enough about you to say it: Human suffering will be avoided at all costs. Now go. Someone will meet you at the other end.”
He winked at me and hustled back up the stairs. I debated following him but went down the stairs instead. Dylan was right. Wanting to know was more curiosity than need. Eorla would have told me anything I needed to know. She knew how to take care of herself, but it went against my nature to leave a friend alone facing an attack fleet of fairy warriors. It’s a thing I have.
Thick utility conduits two feet in diameter lined the tunnel, feeding gas, electricity, and steam into the building. I ducked pipes as I ran down the center, the sound of explosions fading into the background. The tunnel ended, but the pipes continued through the wall above a battered steel plate. My heart skipped a beat at the fleeting thought that I had been trapped, then I noticed that the plate was leaning against the wall. I worked my fingers under the top edge and pulled, jumping back as it fell. The reverberation echoed like a cannon shot.
A plain, featureless arch had been shaped through the concrete wall behind the plate. Under other circumstances, finding myself underground with the heavy scent of troll-worked essence would have made me nervous. I stepped over the threshold and started jogging through another tunnel molded out of the earth. The walls wept with moisture that pooled on the floor. It would have annoyed me more if my boots weren’t already wet. A wooden ladder at the end led up to a trapdoor.
I listened for movement. The sound of artillery fire was louder than it had been in the hotel, but I didn’t hear anything like the movement of people. I pushed at the door and poked my head up.
Dim light filtered through decayed wood. Old army-issue metal desks were pushed against a wall. Brown paper, torn and water-stained, covered the windows. I climbed out of the tunnel and smiled as I peered through a broken window. In better days, the Old Northern Avenue bridge pivoted on its moorings to allow ships up the
