I turned back to the Fae, still more than a little bewildered. “What the hell did you do?”
Albigard bristled, but Rans snorted in dry amusement.
“He did what Fae always do. Manipulate. Isn’t that right, Tinkerbell? Why communicate with a ‘lesser species’ when you can magic them into adoring you instead?” He raised an eyebrow. “So, how’d that whole thing work out for you, anyway?”
Understanding dawned. I’d seen the results of Caspian’s handiwork after he’d twisted my co-workers at MMHA around his well manicured little finger. My jaw dropped in outrage.
“You tried to control his mind without his permission? To make him ‘adore’ you?” I sketched air quotes, my pitch rising with my temper. “He was just dumped by the man he loves earlier tonight! You asshole—you’re lucky he didn’t do more than punch you in the face!”
Rans stood back and let me lay into Albigard without comment. Guthrie mostly just looked bemused. The Fae glared at me, the effect somewhat ruined by the bruise blooming on his cheekbone.
“His response was... not typical,” he said, as though he still couldn’t credit that a human wouldn’t appreciate having their free will twisted into some weird emotional obsession with a random fairy they’d just met.
Rans crossed his arms, clearly taking pleasure in Albigard’s bewilderment. “That’ll be the result of a strong will combined with a rather impressive dose of recreational stimulants affecting the brain chemistry, I expect. I’m truly sorry I missed it—the bloke really is growing on me the more I’m around him.”
The Fae’s expression hardened. “Enough. Your belongings are here. Give me what I was promised. I tire of this.”
I grumbled something uncomplimentary and picked up the bags from the floor. One of them was heavier than it should have been. A quick check confirmed that it contained the second salt dagger I’d made, still encased in its mold, along with the tools I’d need to clean it up and hone the edge. Albigard watched impatiently.
“Come to the kitchen,” I told him. “I’ll show you what this is and how I made it.”
I led him to the counter, Rans following us like an irritated shadow. Albigard examined the mold and the vaguely dagger-shaped object I released from it, listening intently as I described its composition of salt crystals and marine-grade epoxy. I ran through the steps and materials needed to produce it as I cleaned it up and sharpened the edges, as well as describing its effects when used on a demon.
“Interesting,” he said when I was finished. “Normally, the fact that the blade broke off during a fight would be cause for concern. But under the circumstances, one wonders if it could be purposely designed to release from the haft.”
I hadn’t honestly thought of that, and to be fair, it was a decent idea.
“Probably,” I told him. “So, are we even when it comes to the first trade?”
He raised an eyebrow. I noticed that the mark on his face was already fading, partly healed. “I suppose we are. Though I’m half-inclined to leave you to your own devices after being forced to endure the company of such an irritating companion.”
Rans grunted. “Why? It turns out, freshly punched is a good look on you, Tinkerbell.”
Albigard straightened, radiating offense.
“Oh, my god. Could we not, you two?” I asked, my patience wearing thin. Directing my attention back to Albigard, I added, “You want the name of that demon? If so, you’ll take us where we need to go, all right? Here, I’ve got some maps.”
Guthrie appeared in the kitchen, a packed duffel bag slung over his shoulder and another printout clutched in his hand. “Oh. Are we haggling, then?” he asked, looking about as pleased by the prospect of an imminent trip to the Caribbean as he had about everything else that had happened to him in the past couple of days.
“Do you wish to add something to the terms, Leonides?” Albigard said. “By all means, I’m open to hearing it.”
“Sure,” Guthrie told him. “You guarantee we get to the ship safely, and I’ll throw in a list of offshore bank accounts associated with the name Zorah’s going to give you.”
Albigard’s eyes lit up. “Indeed. For that, I might be persuaded to overcome my earlier irritation.”
“Peachy,” Guthrie said, his tone flat. “I’ve confirmed the port where the ship should be docked tonight, off the island of Anguilla.”
“I don’t know where that is,” Albigard replied coolly.
“Like Zorah said, we have maps,” Guthrie pointed out.
“That’s not the problem,” Rans put in, still eyeing Albigard with a jaded gaze. “Maps won’t help for this.”
Guthrie frowned. “Didn’t he just go to California based on a map?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly. He tricked me into drinking Fae mead a few weeks ago, and now he can track me anywhere. My belongings were in California, and he used that combined with the map to zero in on his target. Which reminds me—word to the wise. Never accept Fae gifts.”
Rans huffed. “Unlike some people I could mention, I’d imagine Guthrie is already familiar with the contents of Grimm’s fairytales.”
“Funny,” I told him, not laughing.
Albigard looked down his nose at me. “You certainly seem eager enough to make use of our connection when it suits you.”
And, all right—he had me there.
“These days, I’m not really in a position to ignore possible advantages just because they piss me off,” I managed, striving for haughtiness.
“Enough banter,” Rans said. “How close can you get us?”
Albigard gestured for the maps, and Guthrie pointed out the island where the cruise ship was docked. There was a whole chain of little islands in the area, many with names I’d never even heard of before. After frowning at them for a few moments, the Fae straightened.
“I can get you to Port-au-Prince. I’ve been there before, and it’s on a ley-line.”
“Haiti?” Guthrie said. “That’s still some distance away.”
Rans sighed. “At least it has an airport. We can charter a plane; something low-end in exchange for cash under the table.” He glanced at me. “Come on, love.
