“I think he’s right.”

   I glared at Damian. “Don’t help.”

   “I thought you wanted me to help by going back to the one country I most want to avoid. She let me go once, Anita, but part of me worries that if I get this close to her again physically, she’ll find enough power to steal me from you forever.”

   “You’re my vampire servant and in a triumvirate with Nathaniel and me. Your metaphysical dance card is all filled up.”

   “She won’t know that.”

   “She will if she tries to break you free of me.”

   “She almost killed me once from a distance, remember?”

   I did remember.

   Nathaniel said, “We remember.”

   “I always wondered why she didn’t try to take you again. Maybe this is why,” I said.

   “What do you mean?”

   “Maybe something about the Mother of All Darkness waking up and then getting killed damaged She-Who-Made-You’s power.”

   “If she’s allowing lesser vampires to invade Dublin, then she’s lost power. She would never have allowed that many new vampires to just happen that close to her.”

   “The Harlequin think that the magic that kept her, or any vampire, from creating too many vampires in Ireland is fading.”

   “What do you mean, the magic that kept the vampires from being created? She-Who-Made-Me kept our numbers low to help us hide.”

   “According to the Harlequin, the Fey magic of Ireland itself makes the land so alive that the dead don’t rise easily.”

   “Are you saying that She-Who-Made-Me didn’t keep our numbers low because she wanted to, but because she had no choice?”

   “If Pierette and Pierrot are correct, yeah.”

   “If that is true, then she lied so we wouldn’t realize her power had limits.”

   “What did that gain her?” I asked.

   “She’s controlling us all through fear of her power. If we’d known that power had limits, we might have pushed back more. Hell, Anita, she had some pretty powerful people under her power. If they had known the land itself was fighting back, it might have made them fight harder to be free. Her animal to call is seal, so she can call the Roane, or Selkies.”

   “I thought they were considered a type of fairy creature, not a shapeshifter,” I said.

   “I know that’s what folklore says, but from my experience they reacted to her the same way that the wolves react to Jean-Claude, or the tigers interact with you. She can call real seals to do her bidding and their half-human counterparts the same way that I’ve seen other master vampires call their natural animals and their preternatural ones.”

   Nathaniel said, “Maybe folklore thinks they’re fairy creatures, because they didn’t know what else to call them?”

   “Maybe,” I said.

   “Knowing the land itself was fighting her might have been enough to get the Selkies to fight harder for their freedom. The rest of us were created by her, part of her bloodline, but the Selkies are born free folk. Only her magic, or the theft of their sealskin, could bind them to someone on land as a slave.”

   “Like the stories of the seal maidens where fishermen stole their skins and forced them to be their wives,” I said.

   “Yes.”

   “Some of those legends are supposed to be romantic stories,” I said.

   “There’s nothing romantic about a man stealing something of yours and then blackmailing you into his bed or forcing you to marry him, Anita.”

   “When you say it like that, no,” I said.

   “Remember that the romantic versions of these stories were told in centuries when women didn’t always have a lot of freedom to choose a husband. Ancient Ireland had some of the best laws for women when it came to marriage, but overall marriage was less about romance and more about land, wealth, safety, and procreation. I mean inheritance and the safety of land and even countries. The idea that marriage is about romance and love is such a new idea.”

   “Curse those French troubadours,” I said.

   He smiled. “The British troubadours helped spread the new ideas, too.”

   “I guess when singing and poetry were your major entertainment, that was the way new ideas traveled.”

   “A good singing voice, someone who could play an instrument or recite poetry and tell a good story—they were so important that some rulers would compete to have the great bards under their roofs. A good jester wasn’t just to amuse the king but to help the rest of the court while away the formal feasts. Traveling theatrical troupes were welcome in all the major cities of Europe, and the small ones, though actors were usually paid better in larger cities.”

   “You were a young Viking before you became a vampire. How do you know all that?”

   “She brought over an actor and a few of his troupe to entertain us. She pretended at the time that she thought making them all vampires would endanger our hiding places, but now I know that she couldn’t raise them all. She wasn’t strong enough. Gods, just saying that is frightening and thrilling at the same time.”

   “Why frightening and thrilling?” Nathaniel asked.

   “Because to question her meant punishment. I left Ireland believing that she was all-powerful. To know that she’s not is exciting, because that means that maybe I could rescue the ones I left behind.”

   “I didn’t know you left anyone behind,” I said.

   “Not in the way you mean, probably, but you spend centuries with anyone and you become something to each other.”

   “Friends?” Nathaniel asked.

   “True friendship was not encouraged, and in fact any relationship that didn’t revolve around her was actively discouraged.”

   “How actively?” I asked.

   “Not as actively as a lover that you might prefer to her. I mean, she wouldn’t kill someone that you were just friendly with, but actively enough that she made certain you’d remember the lesson.”

   “So if not a lover or a friend, who did you leave behind?” I asked.

   “You can’t actually keep people from being friends, Anita. There are people that I would rescue from her slavery if I could without risking falling back into it myself. I hate myself for saying it that way, but it’s the truth. One of the things I had to understand about myself was that I wasn’t that brave. In battle, sure, that’s easy, but everyday torture and torment . . . I’m not that kind of brave.”

   “Everyone breaks, Damian,” I said.