Ry-O’s blaming the Druids. Saying they must’ve got the chant wrong.

The Scots are blaming Ry-O. Saying evil can’t trap evil.

Ry-O laughs and asks what the feck they are.

V’lane’s pissed at everybody. Says we’re all inept, puny mortals.

I snicker. Dude, got that right. I sigh, dreamy-like. Think V’lane’s got the hots for me. Wanna ask Mac what she—

I rip open a protein bar and munch it, scowling. What was I thinking? As if I’m ever gonna ask Mac anything again. I shoulda hunted those feckers that killed Alina. Shoulda got rid of ’em. She never woulda known. I smile, thinking about killing ’em. I scowl, thinking about how I didn’t.

“Dither much, kid?”

Voice like knives. I stiffen and try to freeze-frame out, but the feck’s got my arm and he ain’t letting go.

“G’off me,” I spit around a mouthful of chocolate and peanut, thinking, Who uses words like that? But I know who it is, and he worries me ’bout as much as the Book does. “Ry-O,” I say, real cool.

He smiles like I think Death must smile, all fangs and hard eyes that ain’t never held an ounce of—

I breathe in sharp-like without meaning to, ’stead of swallowing, and choke on peanuts. Throat squinches up, can’t breathe, start thumping my chest.

He dressing for Halloween? Ain’t here yet.

Pounding my sternum ain’t gonna work and I know it. I need the Heimlich but can’t do it on myself ’less he lets go of me so I can slam myself into the ledge. I use superstrength to yank my arm free, practically pull it outta the socket.

He’s still got me. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.

He manacles my wrist with long fingers and studies me. Watching me choke. Cold fecker. Watching me foam, my eyes get wild. I’m drooling! Dude—this is so not cool.

Gonna die up here on a water tower, choking on a fecking protein bar. Topple off, splat to the pavement. Everybody’s gonna see.

Mega O’Malley croaks like a Joe!

No fecking way.

Just when I’m getting light-headed, he slams a fist into my back and I spit out a mangled mouthful. Can’t breathe for a minute. Then screech it in. Air ain’t never been sweeter.

He smiles. His teeth are normal. I stare at him. Mind playing tricks? I been watching too many movies.

“Got a job for you.”

“No way,” I say instantly. Ain’t falling in with his crowd. Got the feeling you don’t get to fall back out. You just fall. ’Til you hit bottom. Ain’t going that low. Got trubs of my own.

“Didn’t ask, kid.”

“Don’t work for nobody calls me kid.”

“Let her go.”

I screw my face up in a scowl. “Who sent the party invites for my water tower?” I’m pissed. Whatever happened to a little privacy?

One of the Keltars oozes from the shadows. Only seen him from a distance. Don’t know how either of ’em got so close to me without me knowing. Freaks me. I got supersenses and they snuck up on me.

Scot laughs. But he don’t look like a Scot no more. He looks sorta like … I whistle and shake my head sympathetically. He’s going Unseelie Prince.

They forget me. Busy looking at each other. Ry-O folds his arms. The Scot does the same.

I take advantage of the moment. Ain’t sticking around to find out what job Ry-O has in mind for me. Never wanna know. And if some dude turned dark side thinks he’s gonna score redemption playing avenging angel for me, I got news for him. I don’t want it.

My ticket to hell’s already been punched, bags on board, steam whistle blowing.

I’m fine with it. Like knowing ’zactly where I stand.

I freeze-frame out.

No night. No day. No time.

We get lost in each other.

Something happens to me down there in the underground. I’m reborn. I feel peaceful for the first time in my life. I’m no longer bipolar. There’s nothing I’m hiding from myself.

Being afraid is debilitating. I’ll take truth over fear of it any day.

I am the Unseelie King. I am the Unseelie King.

I say it over and over in my mind.

I accept it.

I don’t know how or why and may never, but at least now I’ve looked hard at the darkest part of me.

It really was the only explanation all along.

It’s almost funny in a way. The whole time I was so worried about what everyone around me might be, I was the biggest bad of all.

That dark, glassy lake I’ve got is him. Me. Us. That’s why it always terrified me. Somehow I managed to partition my psyche and store him away. Me. The parts of me that weren’t born twenty-three years ago, if I actually was born.