A third prince sifts in. Or a second, if you’re counting Christian as an almost-prince. They look so much alike, I wonder if maybe he’s already gone through the final change in the short time since I saw him last. Yesterday, being so close to him didn’t mess me up this badly. Did something happen to him overnight? Is it because there’s more than one prince here and they amp each other up? Did he really just say something weird about waiting for me? My brain is a mess. None of my circuits are working.

I can’t stand up to the princes. For all my superhero powers, here I’m nothing. I’m as weak and helpless and doomed as any other person. I’m a willing victim, ready, waiting, eager to be destroyed. I know with one part of my mind how horrifying that is, but with another part of my mind—a much larger one—I don’t care. Being a victim to eternal pleasure sounds like the most perfect state of existence I could ever imagine.

I stare at them. My cheeks are wet. I want to look away but I can’t. I wipe my face and my hands come away bloody from my tears. I try to back up but there’s superglue on the bottom of my boots. The spell Christian had begun to shatter is weaving itself around me again and I can’t do anything to stop it. I’m standing ten feet away from three death-by-sex Fae and I don’t see any way to get out of this one. Could Christian actually protect me from them if I don’t want him to? Because if they move even one inch closer, I’m not going to want him to.

“Get behind me, kid,” Lor growls from somewhere behind me. It seems mere thoughts of Ryodan conjured his men. If I could move, I’d go limp with relief. I can’t. I stand there.

Lor grabs me and shoves me behind him. He’s got half a dozen of his dudes flanking him and they circle in around me.

They face off with the princes, and just when all hell is about to break loose between them, one of Jayne’s men barks a sharp command because they spotted us, and the Guardians swing their guns our way.

Then the Unseelie trapped in the cages must see their princes standing outside because they start roaring and howling at the top of their lungs, I guess trying to get them to set them free.

That’s when the first of Dancer’s bombs goes off.

TWENTY-THREE

“My pretty pretty thing. Do you want to freeze? … The Iceman cometh”

Dancer planted the bombs up on the top floors because we try not to destroy whole buildings unless they’re nests and need to be demolished.

When the charges start going off, the roofs blow sky high, one after the next, and rubble rains down on us.

Glass and bricks and chunks of drywall spray the street. The air is so full of dust that I can’t see for a couple seconds.

We all start scrambling and ducking, covering our heads, even the Unseelie princes. I guess being immortal doesn’t make you like getting slammed by a slab ofconcrete any more than the next guy. So we all start looking for cover, except Jayne and his men, who are already standing inside the warehouse and don’t need it.

The bombs detonating didn’t work as I’d planned. The Guardians were supposed to look outside when they went off, and see no one because I’d be hiding. Then they were supposed to go hunting for whoever was setting the bombs in the surrounding buildings, and I was going to take on Jayne and whoever was left.

Instead, they look out and see all of us because we’re dodging falling debris and we’re all doing it in slow-mo because you can’t fast-mo through an unpredictable, unmappable rain of bomb shrapnel.

The Guardians start trying to line us up in their sights and bark orders for us to freeze and drop our weapons, which is ridiculous, like anybody’s actually going to listen, but I guess old habits die hard. Nobody freezes or drops anything. And I wonder, doesn’t Jayne get that me and the Unseelie princes want what’s in his hand and we’ll kill for it? Dude, if I was him, I’d drop it and run.

Once I’m pretty sure the biggest chunks of roof have hit the ground, I freeze-frame past Lor to take back my sword from Jayne. Only I slam into Lor on the way there because the fecker’s faster than me.

Then we both crash into two Unseelie princes that weren’t there two seconds ago and my head starts getting screwed up with sex thoughts again. Lor grabs me and we freeze-frame away. The princes take one look at Lor and vanish, too, leaving Jayne a sitting duck for me. I try to freeze-frame around Lor again, and again I slam right back up into his chest. Then we’re all scrambling for cover, because a chimney just crashed to the ground and exploded in a spray of bricks.

“Why does everything leave you alone?” I say pissily as we crouch behind the dock. “You got some kind of Fae-repellent spray? Ever hear of sharing, dude?”

He gives me a look. His face is gray with grime. I taste mortar dust on my tongue. Stuff is still falling but the shower of debris is slowing. Dancer makes killer awesome bombs!

“Why don’t you just let me get my fecking sword?” I make the argument with him I should have made with Ryodan. “If the princes turn me Pri-ya they can use me against you guys.”

“All the more reason he should have killed you. But no, he bloody ‘hires’ you.”

“I didn’t ask to be hired. Fact is, I asked not to.”

“Then he makes me fucking babysit you.”

“I didn’t ask to be babysat either.” I poke my head up over the dock. The princes are trying to get to Jayne! I try to freeze-frame around Lor again but I don’t even make it two feet. I slam into him. Dude’s a wall. No holes anywhere. This is getting old. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”