Chapter Fifty

I started walking. It was iffy for a couple of steps but I got the hang of it.

"Is there a plan?" Fix asked, keeping up with me.

"Maeve. I kill her."

Which had been Mab's freaking order in the first place.

He glanced aside. "You know she's an immortal, right?"

"Yeah."

His eyes narrowed. "What do I do?"

"They've got the guardian pinned down," I said. "I think one of those crews has got to stay on it, or it will break loose. Otherwise, Maeve would have been stomping on me right next to Lily."

Fix nodded. "She never passes up the chance to tear the wings off a fly." He frowned. "What happens if the guardian gets loose?"

I wasn't sure. Demonreach had enormous power, an absolute dedication to purpose, and no sense of proportion. I had very little idea of its tactical capabilities. It might or might not be able to help in a fight. Actually, I was sort of hoping it wouldn't-imagine trying to kill specific ants, in a crowd of ants, with a baseball bat. I was pretty sure that if Demonreach ever started swinging at someone, I wanted to be over the horizon at the very least.

In fact, I realized, that was probably the problem here. Demonreach existed on an epic scale. It was neither suited to nor capable of effectively dealing with beings of such relative insignificance. Standing off a Walker and a small army of Outsiders had not been a huge problem for the island. But Maeve and Lily had slipped inside its guard. They and their personal attendants were sparrows attacking an eagle. The eagle was bigger and stronger and capable of killing any of them, and it didn't matter in the least.

Not only that, but Demonreach was a genius loci, a nature spirit. The fae were intimately connected to nature on a level that no one had ever been able to fully understand. One could probably make an argument that Demonreach was one of the fae, or at least a very close neighbor. Either way, the mantles of the Ladies of Winter and Summer would carry a measure of dominion and power over beings like Demonreach. Clearly they were not sovereign over the guardian spirit, because it was withstanding them. Just as clearly, they had something going for them, because it wasn't trying to crush them, either.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "But the point here is that if we jump Maeve, Lily is going to be too busy keeping a lid on the guardian to get involved."

"The two of us," Fix said, "are going to take on all ten of them?"

"Nah," I said. "I take Maeve. You get the other nine."

"What if they don't cooperate?"

"Chastise them."

Fix snorted. "That'll be quick. One way or the other. And . . . it's going to mean war if the Summer Knight assaults nobles of the Winter Court."

"Not at all," I said. "They aren't nobles. They're outlaws. I just outlawed them by the authority invested in me and stuff. I also herebydeclare us a joint task force."

"We're a task force?"

"As of now," I said.

Fix bobbed his head amiably. "If we dance fast enough, maybe we can sell that. Then what?"

"If we're both alive, we'll figure it out."

We took a few more steps before Fix said, "You can't take Maeve, wizard. Not in the shape you're in. Not even if she was alone."

"No," I said. "I can't."

But maybe the Winter Knight could.

Ever since I'd gotten out of my bed in my quarters in Arctis Tor, I'd felt the power of the Winter mantle inside me, and held it back. I'd felt the primal drives that were its power, the need to hunt, to fight, to protect territory, to kill. Winter's nature was beautiful violence, stark clarity, the most feral needs and animal desires and killer instinct pitted against the season of cold and death-the will and desire to fight, to live, even when there was no shelter, no warmth, no respite, no hope, and no help.

I'd fought against that drive, repressed it, held it at bay. That savagery was never meant for a world of grocery stores and electric blankets and peaceable assembly. It was meant for times like this.

So I let Winter in, and everything changed.

My weariness vanished. Not because my body was no longer weary, but because my body was no longer important-only my will. My fear vanished, too. Fear was for prey. Fear was for the things I was about to hunt.

My doubts vanished as well. Doubt was for things that did not know their purpose, and I knew mine. This was a Winter matter, a Faerie matter, a family matter, and it was precisely correct that only beings of Faerie resolve it. I knew exactly what I had to do.

There was a throat that needed ripping.

"Harry?" asked Fix. "Uh. Are you okay?"

I looked aside at him. As hunting partners went, Fix didn't look like much, but I'd seen him in action before. He was no one to underestimate. And I needed him. Once I didn't, things might change, because he was on my island and that wasn't something I could let slide. But for now I could do worse than to have him at my side.

"I'm a little hungry," I said, and smiled. "Here. Don't need it." I tossed the knife to him, point first.

He caught it deftly by the handle. I saw the minor shifts in shadow on his neck as his shoulders tensed up. "Remember. You've got iron."

I didn't sneer at him, because what would be the point? But I did roll the nail back and forth between my fingers, and heard it scraping on ice.

I looked down and found that ice had condensed out of the water in the air and formed over my fingertips. I put the nail between my teeth so that I could hold up my fingers. As I watched, icicles began to form, guided by raw instinct, stretching out from my fingertips. I flexed my fingers a few times, and saw the edges form, the ice hard and razor sharp. Nice.