He ends the call, shoves the cell phone in his pocket, drops down into the large leather chair behind his desk, picks up the dark blade and starts toying with it again. I’d really like to know what his deal is with that knife.

When the door swishes open I debate leaving while I can.

While I stand there, pondering options, the Unseelie that Dani called “Papa Roach” stumps in, and I shiver with revulsion. I totally get why she nicknamed it that. Papa Roach is segmented, made by thousands and thousands of roachlike creatures clambering up on top of one another to form a larger being. They are the same bugs the waitresses permit beneath their skin to feed on their fat. Papa Roach, the collective, is purplish-brown, about four feet tall with thick legs, a half-dozen arms, and a head the size of a walnut. It jiggles like gelatin when it moves as its countless individual parts shift minutely to remain coalesced. It has a thin-lipped beaklike mouth and round, weirdly lidless eyes. As it moves into the room, a few of the roaches skitter off. I press back against the wall, creeped out by the nasty things, in no mood for a few of them to scurry over the toes of my boots. I imagine they’re small enough to turn invisible, which could be a problem if anyone was looking.

Ryodan barks, “Keep your shit together when you’re in my fucking office.”

The bugs scurry back up Papa Roach, scale a leg, and settle into a knee.

I don’t heave the sigh of relief I feel.

When Papa Roach speaks, I shiver again. Its voice is pretty much exactly what I’d expect a roach to sound like: a dry, malevolent, insectile rustle. “The one you call Jada has left the abbey. We lost her a few blocks from here.”

“Kasteo.”

“Hasn’t spoken a word. The woman has only just begun to talk to him.”

I wonder, What woman?

“The black hole at the church.”

“Is minutely larger.”

“The Unseelie Princes.”

“Plot to take the spear from the woman and kill R’jan.”

My hand goes instantly to my spear. This time, however, I’m not assaulted by images of death and destruction. My Book is oddly still.

“Their fortifications.”

“Remain unchanged. They grow lax since meeting with you. Believe you think them leashed. Think they have an edge you don’t know about. Believe you’ve overestimated yourself.”

I expect Ryodan to press that issue but he says only, “R’jan’s location.”

“Three days ago moved into McCabe’s old house and is fortifying it. It appears he plans to stay.”

“Bring me precise details on his defenses. Within the hour. Sean O’Bannion.”

“Spoke last night at Temple Bar. Offered jobs rebuilding the pubs and stores for pay, and made it clear he will accept only currency in exchange for goods.”

“The Unseelie Princesses.”

“So far we have seen only the one. Met recently with Jada. They conspire to trade services.”

“For.”

“Jada offered to kill the Unseelie Princes in exchange for the location of the Crimson Hag. The princess is considering it.”

“Take the princess a message. She will trade services with me, not Jada. I will make it worth her while. The Highlanders.”

I thought he was worried about her! Why the hell did he force me to stick around if he’s willing to meet with her without me present?

“R’jan has provided them with three sifting Seelie to help them search in exchange for protection against his various enemies. Seems they have Fae lore he finds useful.”

I listen, gaping. Ryodan’s network of spies is standing right in front of me in a single entity comprised of thousands and thousands of sentient “bugs.” He literally has the whole freaking city bugged. Papa Roach divests various “roaches,” sends them scurrying beneath doors and into cracks to eavesdrop on everything that happens in Dublin and report back. No wonder Ryodan knows everything all the time!

“The Unseelie King.”

“Does not appear to be in Dublin.”

He’s wrong about that.

“Mac.”

“As if she’s vanished.”

I smirk.

“Dancer.”

“Succeeds in evading us occasionally. Not certain how. He spends a great deal of time in the labs at Trinity performing various experiments. He has taken recent interest in a female musician.”

“In what capacity.”

“We have not seen them fuck.”

“The cavern beneath the abbey.”

“We are no longer able to enter. The doors have been closed. Not so much as a crack left to us.”