He looked down at me, studying my face, as if he hadn't seen it before. "You would have stayed anyway."
"Until they kicked us out, yes."
"Why?" he asked.
"No one slaughters our people and gets away with it."
"When we know who did this thing, are you determined to see them stand trial in human court?"
"You mean, just send you out to take care of them the old-fashioned way?" It was my turn to study his face.
He nodded.
"I think we'll go with the court."
"Why?" he asked.
I didn't try to tell him that it was the right thing to do. He'd seen me kill people for revenge. It was a little too late to hide behind the sanctity of life now. "Because we're in permanent exile here in the human world and we need to adapt to their laws."
"It would be easier to kill them, and save the taxpayers' money."
I smiled, and shook my head. "Yes, it would be fiscally responsible, but I'm not the mayor, and I don't manage the budget."
"If you did, would we kill them?"
"No," I said.
"Because we are playing by human rules now," he said.
"Yes."
"We won't be able to play by human rules all the time, Merry."
"Probably not, but today we are, and we will."
"Is that an order, my princess?"
"If you need it to be," I said.
He thought about it, then nodded. "It will take some time to get used to this."
"What?"
"That I am no longer just a bringer of death, and that you are also interested in justice."
"The killer could still get off on some technicality," I said. "The law isn't really about justice here, it's about the letter of the law and who has the best lawyer."
"If the killer gets off on a technicality, then what would my orders be?"
"That's months or years down the road, Doyle. Justice moves slowly out here."
"The question stands, Meredith." He was studying my face again.
I met his eyes behind their dark glasses, and said the truth. "He, or they, either spend the rest of their lives in prison, or they die."
"By my hand?" he asked.
I shrugged, and looked away. "By someone's hand." I moved past him to touch the door. He grabbed my arm, and made me look back at him.
"Would you do it yourself?"
"My father taught me to never ask of anyone what I'm not willing to do myself."
"Your aunt, the Queen of Air and Darkness, is quite willing to get her own lily-white hands bloody."
"She's a sadist. I'd just kill them."
He raised my hands in his and kissed them both gently. "I would rather your hands hold more tender things than death. Let that be my task."
"Why?"
"I think if you drench yourself in blood it may change the children you carry."
"Do you believe that?" I asked.
He nodded. "Killing changes things."
"I'll do my best not to kill anyone while I'm still pregnant."
He kissed me on the forehead, and then leaned down to touch his lips to mine. "That is all I ask."
"You know that what happens to the mother while pregnant doesn't really affect the babies, right?"
"Humor me," he said, rising to his full height, but keeping my hands in his. I don't know if I would have told him he was being superstitious because a knock on the door interrupted us. Frost opened the door. He said, "Uniformed police are here."
Bittersweet began screaming again, "Police can't help! Police can't protect us from magic!"
Doyle and I sighed at the same time, glanced at each other, and smiled. His smile was a small one, just a bare lift of his lips, but we went through the door smiling. The smiles slipped and we hurried as Frost turned back and said, "Bittersweet, do not harm the officers."
We went to join him in trying to keep the tiny fey from throwing the big, bad policemen across the room.
Chapter Six
It wasn't big, bad policemen. It was big, bad police officers, because one of the uniforms was a woman, and they were both perfectly nice, but Bittersweet would not be comforted.
The policewoman did not like the Fear Dearg. I suppose if you hadn't spent your life around beings who made him look like a GQ cover boy he might be worth a little fear. The problem really was that the Fear Dearg liked that she was afraid of him. He kept an eye on the hysterical Bittersweet, but he also managed to inch ever closer to the blonde woman in her pressed uniform. Her hair was back in a tight ponytail. Every bit of shiny on her was shined. Her partner was a little older, and a lot less spit and polish. I was betting she was new on the force. Rookies tended to take it all much more to heart at first.
Robert had asked Eric to man the front with Alice. I was also guessing that he had sent his human lover away from Bittersweet just in case she lost control of her power again. If she hit Eric the way she had hit Robert and Doyle, he might have been hurt. Better to surround hysterical fey with people who were tougher than pure human blood could make you.
Bittersweet was sitting on the coffee table crying softly. She'd exhausted herself with hysterics, the energy burst, and crying; all of it had taken its toll. It was actually possible for a really tiny fey to deplete their energy so badly that they could fade away. It was especially hazardous outside of faerie. The more metal and tech around a fey, the harder it could be on them. How had such a tiny thing come to Los Angeles? Why had she been exiled, or had she simply followed her wildflower across the country like the insect she resembled? Some flower faeries were very devoted to their plants, especially if they were species specific. They were like any fanatic: the narrower your focus, the more devoted you could be.