Staying Dead - Laura Anne Gilman [86]
“And yeah, had a reason. Was at the Firehouse last night, got some good gossip. If you’re not too cranky to indulge…”
After the brush-offs she had been getting from her human counterparts, Wren almost pounced on this indication of normalcy. “Sit. Spill.”
He chuffed laughter, and Wren had a vaguely unsettling view of his teeth before the black-lined lips closed again. “You may not be so happy to hear what I’ve got to say when it’s said.”
“That would sort of fit with the rest of the day, that I finally get gossip and it comes with a warning label. Never mind, go on, tell me anyway.”
“There’s talk about maybe this vigilante group is being funded by the Council.”
Wren boosted herself up onto the kitchen counter and stared at the demon. “Use a fork,” she suggested absently. “Otherwise you’ll get spices under your claws and that’s going to burn. Why would they do that? Okay, so the Council isn’t exactly fatae-friendly, but they’ve always been Cosa. Always.”
“Except when they’re trying to shut us down, put their rules on us. Hell, you’re a lonejack, you know what it’s like.”
Wren snorted at the timeliness of that comment. Everyone had a mad-on for the Council this week. Not that this was anything new. The Mage Council had been founded to keep a check on human magic-users. The first lonejacks had told them where they could stuff those checks. It had been pretty much subdued oneupmanship ever since then, seven generations of sibling rivalry, with the Council always but always having the upper hand.
“They’ve always claimed dominance over us, yeah.” None of P.B.’s business what was going on within the lonejack community, if he hadn’t sniffed it out already. “But I don’t get the logic of this. Even if they wanted to—okay, assume they want to, even if they thought they could somehow control all of the fatae, why would they fund a bunch of bigoted head-knockers as part of their plan?” She shook her head. “I don’t buy it. Maybe a mage or two—hell, maybe even a lonejack or two, we’re not all comfortable with the more, hrmm, outré of the fatae, but not as a Council-condoned movement, no.”
“They’re human. We’re not. You really think that doesn’t matter to the Council?”
She rolled her eyes at him, as theatrically as she could manage. “Sheesh, and people say we’re a bunch of bigots!”
“What, you thought that was only human nature?” He shook his head, sharp-pointed ears twitching, something she didn’t remember ever seeing before. He must really be nervous. “Face it, Valere, there’s going to come the day when the Council goes too far. When they show their colors, put off the mask, whatever cliché you want to use. Where are the lonejacks going to stand then, huh?”
Oh God, I’m being felt out for a rebellion! The thought came and went in an instant, as did the quick Do they know the lonejack gossip, that I’m going to be the Council’s whipping boy? Girl? Whatever?
“You’re assuming a group consensus. Unlikely, with us. Even if you’re talking about just the East Coasters.” She was not going to get caught up in this. Not with her own problems already breathing fire.
“I’m serious.” Beady black eyes stared into her own and she was reminded in their red-flecked depths that P.B.—cute fur and button nose aside—was called a demon for a reason. “What’s it going to be? Human to human? Or the side you know is right?”
Time to shut this discussion down. Hard. “When the time comes, I’ll choose. Why are you in such a rush to have that moment arrive? Do you want to see the Cosa broken?”
“I’m not rushing anything. Just telling you what I see.”
“I got eyes, too, P.B.”
“Right.” He looked down, seemingly astonished to see that he had eaten his way to the bottom of the container. “You got eyes, but they’re human ones. Guess it makes a difference.” He put the container in the trash, gently, and turned to look at her. “See ya around, Wren.”
“Damn it, P.B….”
“No, I mean it. I’ll see you around. You’re okay. For a human.” He shrugged. “Everything else…we’ll see, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, watching him climb out onto the fire escape and slip down the