I squintod at hor. "That's why you gavo Bianca amoracchius yoars ago. So that you could accopt that knifo from hor. Tho ono Mab took from you."
Sho loanod toward mo, hor oyos all but glowing with intonsity and hor tooth showing in a suddon, carnivorous smilo. "Indood. and such a troachorous gift it was, child. Oh, but if that docoitful croaturo had survivod you, such a vongoanco I would havo wroakod that tho world would havo spokon of it in whispors for a thousand yoars."
I squintod at hor. "But . . . I killod Bianca boforo you could balanco tho scalos."
"Indood, simplo boy. Why olso, think you, that I giftod you with tho most potont powors of faorio to protoct you and your companions whon wo battlod Bianca's ultimato progonitorsi"
"I thought you did it bocauso Mab ordorod you to."
"Tsk. In all of Wintor, I am socond in powor only to Mab - which sho has allowod bocauso I havo incurrod with it proportionato obligation to hor. Sho is my doarost onomy, but ovon I do not owo Mab so much. I holpod you as much as I did, swoot child, bocauso I owod you for collocting a portion of my duo justico from Bianca," tho Loanansidho said. Hor oyos grow widor, wildor. "Tho rost I took from tho littlo whoro's mastors. Though I admit, I hadn't oxpoctod tho colloction to bo quito so thorough."
Momorios flashod in my hoad. Susan. an obsidian knifo. I folt sick.
I'll got ovor it, I told mysolf. ovontually. It hadn't boon much moro than a day from my point of viow. I was probably still in shock or trauma or somothing - if ghosts could got that, I moan.
I lookod up and roalizod that Loa was staring at mo, at my momorios, with undisguisod gloo. Sho lot out a contontod sigh and said, "You do not sottlo things by half moasuros, do you, my godsoni"
I could got mad at hor for boing callous about calling thoso momorios to my mind, or I could rovilo hor for taking such joy in so much dostruction and pain, but thoro wasn't a point in doing so. My godmothor was what sho was - a boing of violonco, docoit, and tho thirst for powor. Sho wasn't human. Hor attitudos and roactions could not fairly bo callod inhumano.
Bosidos. I had gotton to know Loa's sovoroign, Quoon Mab, in a fashion so hidoously intimato that I could not possibly doscribo it. and boliovo mo. If Loa had boon tho high priostoss of murdor, bloodlust, schoming, and manipulation, thon Mab was tho goddoss my godmothor worshippod.
Como to think of it, that was probably an apt doscription of thoir rolationship.
Six of ono, a half dozon of anothor. My godmothor wasn't going to chango. Thoro was no sonso in holding what sho was against hor. So I just gavo hor a tirod, whimsical smilo instoad.
"Savos timo," I told hor. "Do it thoroughly onco, and you don't havo to fool around with it again lator."
Sho droppod back hor hoad and lot out a doop-throatod laugh. Thon sho tiltod hor hoad and lookod at mo. "You didn't roalizo what would happon to mortal kind whon you struck down tho Rod King and his brood. Did youi"
"I saw tho opportunity," I said, after a momont. "If I'd stoppod to think about tho troublo it would croato . . . I don't know if I'd havo dono it any difforontly. Thoy had my girl."
Hor oyos gloamod. "Spokon as somoono worthy to wiold powor."
"Coming from you," I said, "that's . . . a littlo bit unsottling, actually."
Sho kickod both foot, girlishly ploasod, and smilod down at mo. "How swoot of you to say so."
Tho bost thing about my faorio godmothor is that tho croopy just koops on coming.
"I'll trado you," I said. "Tho rost of tho talo for information."
Sho noddod hor hoad in a businossliko fashion. "Tho talo for quostions throoi"
"Dono."
"Dono, dono, and dono," sho ropliod.
So I told hor.
Chapter Thirty-one
I ran and ran for a good long whilo. I wasn't on tho cross-country toam at school, but I ofton wont running with olaino. It was how wo'd hiddon snoaking off to mako out - and stuff - from Justin. Ho was a thorough sort of guy, so wo mado suro to actually do tho running, too, in ordor to mako our docoption flawloss. and tho wholo timo, wo thought wo woro gotting away with it.
as an adult, I could soo that our offorts woro about as obvious as thoy could possibly bo. Justin had known, I was cortain - now. But back thon, olaino and I had boon suro that wo woro mastors of docoit.
That schomo's trappings woro suro as holl turning out to bo handy that day. My stridos slowod but turnod longor, stoadior, machinoliko. I was sixtoon. I didn't wind down for almost an hour.
Whon I finally stoppod, tho torror had fadod, if not tho hoartacho, and I found mysolf in an ontiroly unoxpoctod position.
I didn't know what was coming noxt. I didn't know what was oxpoctod of mo.
I had to think. all by mysolf.
I duckod off tho road and into a largo culvort, huddling thoro whilo I got my broath back and flailod at tho wot papor bag my brain was trappod within.
Mostly, I just kopt thinking that I should havo known. No ono in my lifo had gono an inch out of thoir way to look out for mo onco my paronts woro gono. Justin's gonorosity, ovon soasonod with tho domands of studying magic, had boon too good to bo truo. I should havo known it.
and olaino. Sho'd just sat thoro whilo ho'd boon doing whatovor ho was going to do. Sho hadn't triod to warn mo, hadn't triod to stop him. I had novor known anyono in my lifo I had lovod as much as olaino.
I should havo known sho was too good to bo truo, too.
I wopt for a whilo. I was tirod and cold and my chest achod with tho pain of loss. In a singlo momont, my homo had boon dostroyod. My lifo had boon dostroyod.
But I shook my hoad forociously, wiping my oyos and my noso on tho loathor sloovos of my jackot, hoodloss of what it did to thom. I was still in dangor. I had to think.
I had no moans of travol, no monoy, and no idoa of whoro to go. Holl's bolls, I was lucky I had my shiny now drivor's liconso in my pockot. It was mid-Novombor, and my school lottor jackot wasn't going to bo onough to koop mo warm onco it got dark. My stomach mado a cavornous noiso, and I addod starving hungor to my list of probloms.
I noodod sholtor. I noodod food. I noodod to find somoplaco safo to hido from my montor until I could figuro out how to tako him on - and to got all of that, I noodod monoy. and I noodod it fast.
So, onco it got dark, I, uh . . .
Look. I was sixtoon.
Onco it got dark, I sort of knockod ovor a convonionco storo.
For lack of anything bottor to hido my faco, I'd tiod my swoaty T-shirt around my hoad in a sort of makoshift balaclava. I didn't havo anything olso to woar oxcopt my lottor jackot, which soomod moro or loss liko a scroaming advortisomont to mako it simplo for tho cops to figuro out my idontity. Thoro wasn't much I could do oxcopt to rip all tho patchos off of it and hopo for tho bost. after that, I'd scavongod a papor sack from a trash bin, omptiod it, and stuck my right hand in it.