Winter (The Manhattan Exiles) (15 page)

“
Paul manages the hostel, he’s not a servant. He likes me because I’ll pay a daily rate for ten minutes with the plumbing and he doesn’t have to change any sheets.”

Dirty water ran off Aine in rivulets, pooling around the drain in the floor. She picked glass from her scalp, and shook her curls, splattering wet droplets.

“He knew your name,” Aine pointed out. “He asked after Richard. You must borrow his plumbing often.”

“
At least once a week.”

“
I can teach you how to change your own bedding,” Aine offered. She turned in circles under the pipe, delighted. The water continued to run hot as the moment she’d twisted the lever.

“
Can you, then?”

“
Aye. Gloriana often complimented Mother on my speed and skill. Never did I pull a single silken thread loose.” The thought of her mother made Aine’s throat tighten with longing.

“
Commendable. Hurry up, princess. You’re steaming the room and there are other homeless miscreants waiting for a date with Paul’s plumbing. One last rinse and I’ll pass you a towel.”

Aine groaned. She stood under the hot water, unwilling to relinquish joy.
“A little while longer. Please.”

But she didn’t protest when Winter snaked a hand past the curtain, and shut the water off. She knew as well as any that little luxuries couldn’t last forever.

“Sorry.” He flung a thin cotton towel over the curtain. “We’ll come again next week.”

Aine toweled herself roughly, rubbing until her skin turned pink. The towel smelled like lavender. Her pricked thumb left a small smear of blood on the grey fabric.

“Why
don’t
you live here?” she persisted. “Why pay for the hot water but not make use of the rooms?”

He laughed, short and sharp and rude, and Aine was glad she couldn’t see his face.

“I told you. Humanity gives me a headache. It’s quiet underground. I’d never be able to sleep in a place like this. Besides, the night manager drinks on the job. I don’t need to share his hangover.”

Tucked in her towel, Aine parted the shower curtain.
“Does it work like that?”

Winter averted his eyes.
“Sometimes.” He stood up. “Get dressed, princess. I need to find Richard.”

“
Winter?”

He paused, back to the tiny room.
“What?”

“
Do I have a sound?” she wondered. “In your head. When I speak, does it hurt?”

“
No,” he replied. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Aine was relieved.
“I’m glad.”

Winter took a deep breath and then exhaled.
“Meet me outside. Keep the primping to a minimum. I’ve got things to take care of, and I can’t wait forever just because you need to fluff your hair.”

Aine dressed hurriedly. Unsure of what to do with the wet towel, she took it with her down the dingy hallway, and passed it to the young man who guarded the front door.

He looked puzzled, then smiled.
“Thanks. Next time use the laundry bin.

Aine smiled back. It felt wonderful to be clean.
“I’ll remember. Next time. Thank you for the use of your plumbing.”

The young man laughed.
“Any time. You’re with Winter?”

“
For now.”

He laughed again, loudly.
“He’s not so bad. I know my regulars and he’s a great kid under the emo exterior. His money’s good and he always leaves the showers clean. What’s your name?”

“
Aine.”

“
Anya,” the young man repeated, giving her name a decidedly human lilt. “You’re welcome any time. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“
Thank you,” Aine said, pleased.

She was still smiling when she found Winter waiting under a tree just outside the hostel. He leaned against the trunk, eyes closed. Aine thought he looked as though he was trying to soak up the cold sunlight filtering through skeletal branches.

“What is an 'emo'?” she asked.

He opened his eyes, then narrowed them.

“You stopped to fluff your hair
and
talk to Paul,” he accused. “Let’s go, shall we?”

He left the tree, and stalked along concrete. Aine had to trot to keep up.

“I didn’t fluff my hair,” she said, insulted. “What little hair I have left fluffs itself. Paul was friendly.”

Catching up, she set her hand on Winter’s arm. Beneath his sleeve she could feel the clench of his muscles.

“You’re afraid,” she realized. “Do you believe we’re pursued?” His tension brought worry flooding back, and Aine glanced over her shoulder, around at the looming buildings. She wasn’t ready to face another
sluagh
until she had a knife.

He didn’t slow. He didn’t shake off her hand, either.

“We’re not pursued, but we’re not safe.” At last he looked at her. “They’ve never come above ground before. You may’ve changed the game, princess, and I don’t know what to make of it. I need Richard.”

“
Michael Smith changed the game,” Aine corrected. She took her hand back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ll not be blaming me. I’ve nothing at all to do with the ghoulies, if the little red stars on your map are any indication.”

Winter’s mouth set into a hard, pained line.
“Gabby told you?”

“
Gabby told me nothing. I used my own head.” She shivered, hunching her shoulders. “I counted the stars, Winter. There are more than my mother has years.” She swallowed, remembering black wings and dead flesh. “Did you kill them all, so many?”

Winter stopped under an overhang. Aine realized they’d returned to the library. Across the street she saw a herd of cars, many adorned with flashing red lanterns. A man in a uniform and cap ran long yellow tape across the library stairs. Several more humans stood in loose clusters, talking quietly.

“There’s Richard,” Winter said, relieved. “And Bran. Time to face the music, princess.”

“
Winter!” She didn’t touch him, but she put all of her distress into the word, knowing he would feel it.

His jaw bunched, and she was almost sorry.

“Yes,” he said, cold. “I banished them all. With help. Gabby, Richard, Lolo, others, they help. But it’s my job, my responsibility, my
life
. It’s what I do.”

“
But, why?” Aine hugged her chest more tightly. “Why does it fall to you?”

“
Because they’re my mistake.” Winter looked at her, grey eyes wide and lost, and she realized that her distress was nothing compared to his own. “I set the
sluagh
free, Aine. Gloriana banished the Dread Host from your world, but I let them into this one.”

8
. Mercy

Gabby opened her eyes to the pale creep of dawn through penthouse windows.

She stretched, dragging her front claws across warm stone. Siobahn had left the fire burning overnight for Gab
by’s comfort, and the mouse found the mantle a pleasant place to sleep, far more pleasant than cold, damp Metrorail tunnels.

The fire was gas-
fed and still burned merrily. Gabby smelled baking bread from the kitchens below. Her whiskers twitched and her stomach grumbled.

“
You’re as bad as the children you live with.”

Gabby cocked a back leg, and cleaned her toes with her teeth, not bothering to look around.

“The children are always hungry because they’re growing,” she replied. “I am hungry because I’m empty.”

Malachi didn’t have a scent. He’d had one once, Gabby thought. She couldn’t remember when he’d lost it. It worried her a little that she didn’t care.

He didn’t have a scent, but she’d known he was there, felt him as soon as she woke. As she knew she always had been, she was comforted by his presence.

“
We expected you earlier.”

“
I had business,” replied the Prince of Fairies. “I see my absence didn’t keep you up.”

Gabby dropped her paw, stood on all four feet, and looked Malachi over.

“What manner of business?”

“
The unpleasant and necessary kind. Otherwise I would have been here to welcome you, Mistress.”

Gabby scoffed. She ran along the mantle to his lifted hand.
“Your wife and daughter were pleasant company, as always. Have you seen the stones?”

Malachi wore a pretty suit like every other businessman in Manhattan. His tie was subtly striped in blues and
yellows. His dark hair brushed the collar of his jacket and the watch on his wrist was expensive.

Unlike every other businessman in Manhattan, he wore a bronze sword across his back and ancient
fay boots on his feet.

“
I have,” he said. “I recognize the pouch. It belonged to Angus. The rubies are another matter. I’ve never seen them before, and I would know them, had they come across with us.”

“
Sure of that, are you?”

He nodded, green eyes brilliant.
“The pouch held Angus’ scrying bones. I thought it lost with him in the river. Moire may have taken it after she killed him, but why? The bones work only for their master. The pouch in itself would have been worth nothing to the witch.”

Gabby
ran up Malachi’s arm, settling on his shoulder. His ears, so like in shape to Winter’s, were unadorned.

“
Someone may have smuggled the rubies across in a pocket or bundle. Every one of us knew exile would be hard. Can you blame a body for stealing a bit of wealth from Gloriana along the way? An investment toward an uncertain future?”

“
No,” said Malachi. “But Siobahn is right. Those jewels scream hatred and betrayal. Angus would have felt them at once, had anyone carried them across. I would have felt them.”

Gabby smoothed her whiskers.
“I don’t hear them.”

Malachi’s shoulders moved as he sighed.

“You’re more mouse than fay,” he said, blunt. “You’ve been a mouse for one hundred and fifty years. The
geis
ignores you. Why should the rubies be any different?”

Gabriel wasn’t angry, although she thought he meant her to be.
“So be it.”

Malachi walked from the hearth to the windows. Together they looked down onto the sluggish city. Dawn
seemed slow in coming: a reluctant orange tinted the sky.

Lolo snored softly in one of Siobahn’s delicate chairs. He’d insisted on keeping guard. He clutched Winter’s knife in a loose grip, the blade balanced on his knee.

“Siobahn believes the rubies were torn from a pommel, or a crown, or a breastplate. I agree it’s likely. We’ll show them to Katherine Grey. If anyone remembers, she will.”

The mouse snorted.
“Katie Grey doesn’t rise until well after tea. She prefers the night hours to morning. So why have you awakened me with the dawn, Malachi?”

He smiled and it was bright and sweet, mad and bitter all at once.
“My necessary business is still unfinished, Mistress. You and I are going hunting.”

Malachi drove a small red sports car. The interior looked and smelled brand new, but there was an ugly, narrow scrape across the entire passenger side.

“
Does her Ladyship know you’ve wrecked another one?” Gabby asked from Malachi’s shoulder as the Prince of Fairies slid behind the wheel.

“
I had nothing to do with it,” Malachi said, aggrieved. “I was nowhere near at the time.”

The little car purred as they left The Plaza’s underground garage and slipped into  traffic.

“If you left it unattended and illegally parked with no protection other than a Glamour, then you had everything to do with it,” Gabby scolded. “When will you learn?”

“
There are no available parking spots in Manhattan,” Malachi said, unrepentant. “And if I relied on public transportation to move through the city all of us would have been dead and buried years ago.”

Traffic began to bunch as Manhattan woke and started business. Malachi guided the car expertly between taxi cabs and delivery trucks.

“Speaking of public transportation.” His green eyes met Gabby’s in the rear view mirror. “How is my son?”

“
Stubborn, foolish, and loyal,” the mouse replied. “Much like his father.”

The little sports car growled through a red light, turning wide onto a one way street.

“What is it he isn’t telling me?”

“
Where are we going?” Gabby returned, bland.

Malachi scowled as he shifted gears.
“You’re covering for him.”

Gabby dug her claws into Malachi’s shoulder and thrust her muzzle forward, enjoying the ride. Malachi cracked the driver’s window, letting morning air blow, and she could almost remember flying.

“You gave Winter to me,” the mouse said, simply. “I am his.”

“
Stubborn, foolish, and loyal,” repeated the Prince of Fairies. “Even so, I expect you to tell me if he’s in trouble. You’re bound by ties far older than my son.”

“
We’re all in trouble,” Gabriel said, unafraid. “Winter may save us.”

Malachi
drove without speaking. Traffic thinned again as they left Central Park. The air through the window tasted of fish and salt.

“
Very well,” said Malachi said at last. “You’ll tell him I miss him.”

“
He knows it.” Gabby eyed the high rises flashing past. “The West Village?”

“
Ganesvoort,” corrected Malachi. “Or thereabouts. You’ll not recognize it. Tourists walk the streets where we once scrounged for scraps of meat.”

“
The Meatpacking District,” guessed the mouse. “Summer’s favorite afternoon destination, or so I hear.”

“
That child is not mine,” the Prince of Fairies said without rancor. “She is entirely her mother’s.”

He gunned the car onto
13th Street. Gabby considered low brick buildings and glass storefronts with interest.

“
The place
has
changed. Are we hunting couture?”

Malachi smiled but his green eyes reflected centuries of regret.
“We’re hunting despair, Mistress. Now say a prayer to the gods of parking so I’ll not have to disappoint you and leave the car double parked.”

It was early enough that they found a legal spot against the curb. Malachi ducked onto the road and slammed the car door, muttering a quick incantation under his breath.

When Gabby looked at the little car she saw instead a battered, empty NYC waste bin.

“No wonder you get sideswiped.” She hunched against Malachi’s ear, newly depressed. “Who have we lost, then?”

“
He calls himself Henry. I don’t know what name he wore when he was exiled. Perhaps you’ll recognize him. He’s led us on a pretty chase around the island. Three days now we’ve been playing hide and seek. But he’s finally tiring. And I plan to end it this morning.”

Gabby shivered.
“What did he do to attract your attention?”

“
Last month he set fire to a cypress in Central Park. A few weeks ago he burned a warehouse in Brooklyn. Four days ago it was a homeless woman on the East Side.” Malachi ran a hand through his hair. “There wasn’t much left of the victim, but our friend was clumsy, and there were witnesses. And now the NYPD is involved.”

“
If he’s running he knows you’re after him.”

“
I’m not sure what he knows anymore. Barker’s managed to corner him inside Spice Market. Henry’s time has run out.”

“
Inside
Spice Market?” Gabby shifted on Malachi’s shoulder, worried.

“
Apparently,” said Malachi. “Let us hope Barker’s handling damage control. Siobahn orders in their seafood laksa at least twice a month. She’ll be furious if the kitchens are burned.”

Gabby ran the tip of her tail through her claws, then settled it neatly around her haunches.
“You’d better hurry.”

From the front, the restaurant appeared undisturbed. The bricks were damp and the awnings dripped. A rattan fence guarded empty patio seating. Stacked chairs glittered with frost. Empty planters were wrapped in burlap against the winter.

“
Is there a back entrance?” Gabby asked.

“
There’s a broken window,” replied the Prince of Fairies. “Barker’s version of damage control.”

The window was man height. Malachi hauled himself easily over a tall iron rail and stepped across the window sill. He brushed back a billowing white curtain and ghosted inside. Glass crunched underfoot.

“A front window?” Gabby said, disapproving. “Does he suppose the city is blind?”

“
Henry broke the window,” Barker replied from the shadows. “
I
silenced the alarm.”

Malachi murmured a word and Gathered starlight. The interior of the restaurant lit in a soft glow.

Malachi’s second slouched on a long bench, his elbows propped on an even longer table. He wore his ginger hair scraped back into a pony tale, his dark face stark. A glass of red wine sat at his left hand. His pistol rested on the table at his right.

“
Hello, Mistress,” he said. “Come to put us out of our misery?”

“
Himself required my companionship,” Gabby returned, keeping shock from her voice. The young fay had grown thin over the last decade, and there were new, bitter lines around his mouth. “Was it too much effort to place a Ward?”

“
There was no one to see.” Barker shrugged, and took a swallow of wine. “If we hurry, our luck will hold. The Meatpacking District is not exactly flush with early risers.”

“
Security?” Malachi asked.

“
Two. Both asleep in the kitchen and happily unscathed.”

“
Henry?”

Barker’s grin turned sour.
“Also asleep in the kitchen. If you’re ready, I’ll wake him.”

“
Did he put up a fight?”

“
No.” Barker pushed back the bench and stood up. The pistol went into the shoulder holster he wore over a Yankees T-shirt. He left the half-finished wine on the table. “I think the poor fellow was simply looking for something to eat.”

Barker led the way through a forest of tables and benches. Malachi’s globe
of Gathered starlight turned the restaurant luminescent. Elaborately carved pillars and arches sent snowflake shadows dancing.

Floor-to-
ceiling drapes hid the industrial kitchen. Barker shoved red velvet sideways with his elbow. Malachi followed after.

Gabby inhaled and sighed. The kitchen held no treasure for a mouse. The stainless counters and sink were wiped clean, and stank of disinfectant. Not a single crumb littered the floor. Even the three trash bins and two recycling buckets smelled of soap.

Two humans - a man and a woman - lay prone on the floor, breathing quickly, eyelids twitching as they struggled and failed to wake. Barker’s Cantrip held them just below consciousness.

When he released them and they woke, they would remember everything and understand nothing.

The fay sat propped against a large refrigerator, head lolling. His hands were shackled in iron cuffs. His feet were bare and dirty, the knees of his trousers torn. There was a puddle on the floor where he’d wet himself. Even unconscious he oozed fear and fire.