‘Ask her what she knows about Michael Nix’s book,’ I interrupted, holding up the volume I’d retrieved.
‘Michael Nixsss, The Esssoteric Practice of Malediction Propheciesss,’ the Librarian hissed. ‘He is a purveyor of nightmares and future fears. I did not sssend you that one.’
Nice! I dropped the book. I’d salted it, and its magic seemed to be spent, but holding it for too long probably wasn’t a great idea. ‘Well, someone did,’ I said, ‘then I think they paid me a visit.’
‘What did they look like?’
‘She was green, deficient in the tooth area, wrinkled and over-free with the cryptic threats.’
‘Gosh, that sounds like one of the bean nighe, don’t you think, Libby?’
I looked down at my bloodstained jeans. A bean nighe? Just my luck.
‘A washer woman? Why would a Herald of Death be visiting you, sssidhe?’
Not a question I really wanted an answer for. ‘She was wearing a chain of gold keys,’ I said. ‘Does that mean anything?’
‘Ahh … Ssshe was the Phantom Queen then.’ The Librarian drew the name out with something approaching reverence. ‘Ssshe ofttimes appears as such.’
The name sounded familiar—
‘But I thought Clíona imprisoned her years ago, Libby?’ Sylvia frowned at the iPhone.
‘A sssidhe queen cannot hold a goddess for long. Ssshe may have escaped, or Clíona may have relented, or ssshe may have agreed sssome bargain with the Terror.’
—and my memory clicked in with the answer. ‘Are we talking about the Morrígan? The goddess of prophecy, war and death?’
‘Ssshe is also Anu, the goddess of sssovereignty, prosperity and fertility,’ the Librarian said, her delight and satisfaction evident.
Of course she was the goddess of fertility—after all, that was the theme of my life right now. Not to mention, I must have used up my next ten years’ quota of luck, seeing as I now had not one, but two goddesses taking an unhealthy interest in me.
‘Gosh, that’s right,’ Sylvia said, grinning at me with excitement. ‘Did she show you one of her prophecies? Was it anything to do with the curse? Do tell.’
Telling them might shed some light on the Alien baby bit, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to ‘chat’ about it; for all that it was false, the memory was grief-filled and painful. And I wanted a chance to think it all through. Then there was the fact the Morrígan had chosen to appear as a bean nighe. The bean nighe were dark fae, changelings taken from those mothers who died in childbirth, whose souls were lost. Whether it was the association, or down to whatever magic the Morrígan had sicced on me with her bitter kiss, flashing in my head like a neon arrow pointing ‘victim here’ was the picture of Ana, Victoria Harrier’s very pregnant daughter-in-law.
Questions started piling up in my mind.
I looked at Sylvia and her phone. The Librarian was the local font of all knowledge, and everyone knew that trees were the original gossip girls.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Before I do tell and show,’ I said, ‘do either of you know a water faeling called Ana?’ At Sylvia’s puzzled look, I added, ‘She’s married to a wizard.’
‘Oh, you mean Annan,’ Sylvia said, adjusting her cycle helmet as it wobbled.
‘Why do you assk?’ the Librarian said.
‘Someone mentioned her, and I thought it was odd she was married to a wizard. They’re usually all about their magical lineages, aren’t they?’
‘Annan is the great-granddaughter of Queen Clíona. The wizard married her because ssshe is descended from sssidhe royalty.’
Wow, Clíona’s descendents were popping up all over the place, which could hardly be a coincidence. Or a surprise really, with two goddesses on my case.
There was a tiny chiming sound, and a scroll of buff-coloured vellum appeared in the air in front of me, accompanied by a pungent twist of wood-smoke. Its red silk cord untied and the vellum unrolled itself with a definite flourish. ‘This is Annan’s lineage,’ Sylvia said, sounding slightly awed.
I read down the family tree, and immediately recognised Clíona’s daughter’s name, Rhiannon. That was the name that Grianne, my faerie dogmother, had called Angel. So maybe it was Angel/The Mother who was putting ideas into my head about Ana (her great-granddaughter) being a possible victim?
‘Such a tragedy, wasn’t it, Libby?’ Sylvia said.
I peered at the family tree. ‘I take it you don’t mean Ana’s marriage to the wizard, but about her mother being attacked and killed by the vamps,’ I said drily, ‘and Ana herself being caught by them.’
Sylvia gave a choked laugh that sounded like leaves rustling. ‘Gosh, yes, Brigitta was killed by the suckers, wasn’t she? I’d forgotten that. That was a tragedy too. So sad, such a lot of heartbreak in that family, and all because of the curse.’
‘Clíona brought it on herssself,’ the Librarian grouched. ‘If ssshe had not cast the droche guidhe, it would never have happened.’
‘So, what did happen?’ I asked.
There was another chime, and a yellowed newspaper popped into the air to hover next to the family tree scroll. For a moment it fluttered in the breeze through the open bedroom window, then Sylvia snapped her fingers and it became as still as a board.
I stepped up to it and began to read:
FAERIE PRINCESS RESCUED FROM THE TOWER.
by ‘Thomas the Rhymer’
Our Man in the Fair Lands
A sidhe faerie princess and her child have finally been released after being kidnapped and held prisoner in the Tower of London.
The traumatised princess (age not specified) has been returned to the bosom of her family in the Fair Lands after the ordeal, while her baby daughter (5 months) is being cared for by extended members of the princess’ family in London—
A horrified chill crawled down my spine. I narrowed my eyes at Sylvia and her pink iPhone. ‘So who’s going to explain what that means?’
‘Well,’ Sylvia’s face squinched up like she was in pain, ‘you know what Algernon and his friends tried to do to you?’
Algernon had to be Bandana, the dryad. I hadn’t known his name, nor had I really wanted to. ‘You mean when they tried to kidnap and rape me?’ I said flatly, thinking that Sylvia hadn’t necessarily been blameless in that nasty incident.
‘Fiddlesticks, now I’ve made you cross.’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘They weren’t supposed to do that. If I’d known that’s what they planned, I’d have told someone.’
‘Go on,’ I said, giving her a hard stare as I crossed my arms.
‘Well, it all happened about forty years ago. The Old Donn, he was the one in charge then, he was desperate to find a way to break the curse. As we all still are.’ She gave me a pointed look. ‘Anyway, short version, that’s when the idea of finding a sidhe willing to have a child came up, only Clíona wasn’t prepared to let us court any of her ladies, and none of the other queens wanted anything to do with the curse. So things were at a bit of a stalemate. But then Clíona’s daughter Rhiannon was visiting London. When the Old Donn and two of the other wylde fae found out she was here’—she pulled another pained face and pointed at the hovering newspaper—‘well, that’s what they did.’
Fuck, so I wasn’t the first! They’d already tried the ‘kidnap, rape and make the sidhe pregnant’ plan in an effort to break the curse with this Rhiannon— except their plan obviously hadn’t succeeded, since the curse was still in existence … but looking at the family tree, Rhiannon had given birth, to a daughter … and the newspaper had mentioned a baby girl … so—