“Hel!” Sam said, raising her voice as she hurried after the other woman, who showed no sign of slowing.
“Either get on a ferry before sundown, or hole up in a train,” Hel said. “I don’t particularly care which.”
“I’m sorry?” Sam said breathlessly. “What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”
“It means your assistance is no longer required,” Hel said.
“Assistance?—” Sam shook her head. “This is my case too!”
“Wasyour case.” Hel gave Sam a sidelong look, the kind Sam had seen her level at others, but never at Sam. “What would you even do in a fight? Because make no mistake, that’s what’s coming.”
It was nothing Sam hadn’t thought herself, but still it hurt. Hel had been the first person to believe in Sam; that she didn’t believe in her anymore...
“It’s my life at stake!” Sam burst out. “It should be my decision!”
“Damn it, Sam, not when your decisions keep putting your life at risk!” Hel slammed her fist into the stone wall, her head bent, shrouding her face in shadow. Sam forgot even to breathe as she watched the trickle of blood trace down Hel’s knuckles.
“You put your life at risk all the time!” Sam argued.
And Hel looked back at Sam, agonized. “I can’t lose you.”
Sam blinked away sudden tears, furious at herself for crying when she wasn’t done being angry. “Then why did you push me away?”
“It was the only way I could think of to keep you safe,” Hel said. “And with all the secrets you were keeping... I’d lost you already.”
It seemed the notorious Lady M?—who leapt out of windows without a second thought, whose legs never decided not to work in a fight, who believed her father impossible to defeat but who took against him anyway?—was scared. It looked wrong on her, somehow, foreign. As if Hel didn’t know what to do with it, so she was shoving it away?—and Sam with it.
Sam wet her lips. “Hel, I know I should have trusted you?—trusted us?—and I know it’s unfair of me to ask this of you. But I just?—I need you to trust me when I tell you I can do this.” That sheneededto do this, for her own sake as much as the Mórrígan’s.
“Enough.”
“Hel?—” Sam said, her voice cracking. Hel didn’t believe her, didn’t trust her. Sam couldn’t precisely blame her, but still, she’d hoped...
“We’ll do it your way,” Hel said, and Sam’s heart leapt. “But if you die?—”
“You’ll pull the veins out of my neck and strangle me with them?” Sam said lightly, and was gratified when Hel barked a surprised laugh. “You won’t lose me,” Sam added softly, reaching out for Hel’s hand. It was cold and calloused and bleeding. Sam gave it a squeeze.
Hel drew in a shaky breath. “Any idea how we can track her down?”
Sam eyed the crows, the song whispering in her mind. If the Mórrígan truly had her hooks in Sam, that meant she ought to be able to reach the crows. She reached out hesitantly toward the black birds, felt their touch lick against her mind like flames. “I think so. But you’re not going to like it.”
Sam and Hel followed the crows to Saint Stephen’s Green. The skeletal trees scraped the sky, and the black birds huddled on their branches like candles burning down to stumps. So close to curfew, the park was empty save for one woman, who had never paid much attention to the rules, anyway: Miss Shinagh.
Sam’s woolen skirts dragged against her legs, cold and sodden as they squelched through the water to the island where the other woman waited, kneeling with her back to them in a circle of mushrooms that Sam could have sworn weren’t there before. Some that dripped black from their caps like gems, others that seemed like lace petticoats, and one that was a white spongy material with beads of what Sam might have sworn was blood.
Miss Shinagh didn’t bother to turn around. “You’re braver than I thought, to come here after murdering my fiancé.” Her voice was no longer smooth, but raw and husky.
“You mean your ticket into the Vespertine?” Hel said, crossing her arms. Miss Shinagh’s hands twitched violently. “We know what you’re after.”
“Then you know you shouldn’t have interfered.” Miss Shinagh didn’t bother with the usual protests, that she didn’t know what they were talking about, that it was someone else murdering everyone. “If I can’t free her, I can at least ensure the Vespertine don’t get what they want. You can try to stop me if you like. But I don’t recommend it.” Not on Samhain, with the power of the Mórrígan flowing through her.
“We’re not trying to stop you,” Sam said. “We’re trying to help you.”
“You had your chance,” Miss Shinagh said dismissively. The Folk were famous for their grudges. Miss Shinagh looked over her shoulder, eyeing Sam. “Leave if you want to survive. Or don’t.”
Sam let out an impatient breath. “We know how to free the Mórrígan.”
Miss Shinagh was on her feet in an instant, her eyes lambent and her too-sharp teeth bared. She had never looked so like a fox. “Explain.”
