‘Rhiannon wasss visiting the fossssegrim when the Old Donn took her,’ the Librarian’s voice hissed out of the phone. ‘Ssshe was already carrying hisss child.’
Shit. That meant— ‘They abducted and raped a pregnant woman!’ I said, sickened.
Sylvia cringed. ‘Well, technically, yes.’
‘They either did, or they didn’t!’
‘They performed a fertility rite,’ the Librarian said. ‘Rhiannon agreed to it, but ssshe has never been in her right mind, and ssshe did not understand what it meant. It was a ssstrange sssituation.’
Rhiannon wasn’t in her right mind? Of course, they were talking about Angel—for a moment I’d forgotten Rhiannon and Angel were the same person, and that Angel was Ana’s grandmother.
Two more yellowed newspaper articles materialised in front of me with another chime. Their headlines proclaimed: BRUTAL SLAYING AT THE TOWER OF LONDON, and TRAFALGAR SQUARE’S FOUNTAINS TO BE EXORCISED.
I skimmed down the pieces. They detailed the killing spree that the fossegrim had gone on when he’d become unhinged at losing his lady love to the curse, and the fall-out that followed. Neither story carried any mention of Rhiannon, or their daughter. Those details had obviously been kept out of the news.
‘The fossssegrim exacted hisss revenge on the Old Donn and the others,’ the Librarian said. ‘But once the humanss heard about it, they called for him to be removed. An agreement wass finally reached whereby the fountainsss were Warded ssso that the fossegrim was contained for three decadesss. But he wasss unable to care for the child, Brigitta, so ssshe was given into the care of the witches, for her protection. Ssshe grew up with them, and when ssshe gave birth to Ana, the witches cared for her alsso.’
‘Obviously not well enough,’ I muttered. Damn, poor Ana really was a victim of the curse, in more ways than one. Her grandmother Rhiannon was born to break it, her mother Brigitta was killed by the vamps, and Ana herself had ended up in a blood-house when she was fourteen. And despite her supposed rescue by her wizard husband, Ana was still under the thrall of some vamp, and still a victim of the curse. It was a situation I needed to sort out—once I worked out how to bypass the scary fossegrim. ‘So,’ I said, ‘I heard Ana now lives with her grandfather the fossegrim in Trafalgar Square. Is he really as mad as I’ve been told?’
‘Gosh, yes.’ Sylvia shuddered. ‘I’d stay away from him, if I was you. He likes to drown folk—’
‘He hass never hurt a female or a child, Sssylvia,’ the Librarian’s voice interrupted firmly.
Ah, good to know, since I was going to be visiting his granddaughter.
Sylvia frowned at the phone. ‘But I thought that was why Rhiannon was sent back to the Fair Lands, and why her daughter went to live with the witches?’
‘No, Rhiannon wass allowed home because none wanted to incur Clíona’s wrath again.’
I snorted. Allowed home, my arse. Then something struck me. ‘So if Rhiannon went back to the Fair Lands, why did she leave her daughter in the care of the witches?’ But even as I asked the question, the answer was there in front of me, on the hovering vellum of the family tree. ‘Brigitta was a full-blood sidhe, and you kept her because of the curse. Damn! She was going to be your next curse-breaking experiment. You tried to breed from her, didn’t you? And Clíona just let you.’ Anger welled up in me and I kicked at the book on the floor. It thudded into the wall next to the bathroom door, making Sylvia jump.
‘We are not as cruel as you sseem to think, ssidhe,’ the Librarian said in a conciliatory tone. ‘We had high hopess that Brigitta would break the curse, ssso like you, ssshe was given her choice of father. And ssshe chose one of the water fae, but when Ana, her daughter, was born, it was evident that the husband was not Ana’s father.’
I looked at the family tree again. Ana’s father was down as ‘unknown’, and Ana was a faeling.’ I laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound. ‘Brigitta stiffed you by getting pregnant by a human, didn’t she?’
‘Yes. Brigitta held usss all guilty for what happened with her mother and the Old Donn. Ssshe took her revenge thuss.’
I didn’t know whether to cheer for Brigitta or cry. The fertility curse had really screwed up her life, even before she’d been killed, and now it was screwing up Ana’s too. I really hoped I was wrong about a vamp still having his or her fangs in Ana; the poor faeling already had more than enough problems to deal with.
‘Sssometimess a fate cannot be changed,’ the Librarian said quietly, as if she’d read my thoughts, ‘but with forewarning it is posssible. What did the Morrígan ssshow you, sssidhe?’
‘Gosh, yes, do tell.’ Sylvia gave me an eager look.
‘Sorry, no,’ I said, and reached over and pressed the ‘off ’ button on her phone. Whatever the Morrígan/Alien baby show was about, I wasn’t in the mood to discuss it after that sordid little tale. I fixed Sylvia with a look. ‘Thanks for getting rid of the books, Sylvia, but what exactly are you doing here?’
Her phone trilled the theme tune from Dirty Dancing. She cancelled the call and the phone vanished. Two seconds later the hovering family tree and the newspapers did too. The Librarian obviously didn’t want to leave them hanging around (no pun intended). Sylvia smiled coyly. ‘Is that, no, you won’t tell, or no, the Morrígan didn’t show you anything?’
‘You first,’ I said.
‘Fiddlesticks, that’s not fair,’ she pouted.
‘Up to you.’ I shrugged and looked down at my bloodstained clothes. ‘But if you’re not going to talk, then I’m getting cleaned up.’ I turned and headed for the bathroom, saying over my shoulder, ‘Don’t forget to shut the window on your way out.’
‘Wait!’ she called. ‘Wait! I’ll tell. You know you said one of us could court you so long as it wasn’t one of the Twig Gang. Well, here I am.’
I turned to see her standing with her arms outstretched and a big smile on her face. ‘Ta dah!’ She grinned. ‘Although I’m not as pretty as when I started out, thanks to your Ward.’
‘You’ve come to court me? Somehow I don’t think you’re going to be much use in getting me pregnant—not that I want to get pregnant,’ I finished quickly.
‘I’m a dryad, silly,’ she giggled. ‘Depending on our tree—mine’s a cherry, Prunus avium—some of us come with a choice of both’—she patted her breasts, then fluffed her skirt—‘accessories, if you see what I mean. But I prefer to be female, mostly. Especially in the spring. People look at you odd if you’re male and dressed in white and pink.’
Like the Barbie pink cycle helmet wouldn’t do it? ‘You’re a hermaphrodite.’
‘Actually, I’m cosexual, since I’m a tree.’ She gave a delighted laugh and clapped her hands together. ‘No one’s told you, have they?’
Evidently, it wasn’t an aspect of fae life that my faerie dog-mother had decided I needed to know, for whatever reason. And there I’d thought Grianne’d told me everything at least thrice over in her lectures.
‘Right, so … you like girls, then?’ I said, thinking that having a fluffy-headed cosexual dryad hanging around me was hands-down a better option than Bandana, who came with an excess of sadistic testosterone built in.
‘Girls, boys—or both.’ Her grin stretched wider. ‘It’s spring, my sap’s rising, and I just love sex.’
Oh, goodie. ‘What if I don’t love girls?’
‘Oh, but you do! We’ve all seen the YouTube of you kissing that female vamp last year.’ She fanned herself with her hand. ‘Gosh, that was hot.’