Karen Marie Moning - Darkfever

C ONTENTS

This ones for Neil, for holding my hand
and walking into the Dark Zone with me.

... When the walls come tumblin down
When the walls come crumblin crumblin...

John Cougar Mellencamp

Prologue

M y philosophy is pretty simpleany day nobodys trying to kill me is a good day in my book.

I havent had many good days lately.

Not since the walls between Man and Faery came down.

But then, theres not a sidhe-seer alive whos had a good day since then.

Before The Compact was struck between Man and Fae (around 4000 B.C . for those of you who arent up on your Fae history), the Unseelie Hunters hunted us down like animals and killed us. But The Compact forbade the Fae to spill human blood, so for the next six thousand years, give or take a few centuries, those with True Visionpeople like me who cant be fooled by Fae glamour or magicwere taken captive and imprisoned in Faery until they died. Real big difference there: dying or being stuck in Faery until you die. Unlike some people I know, Im not fascinated by them. Dealing with the Fae is like dealing with any addictionyou give in, theyll own you; you resist, they never will.

Now that the walls are down, the Hunters are back to killing us again. Stamping us out like were the plague on this planet.

Aoibheal, the Seelie Queen of the Light, is no longer in charge. In fact, nobody seems to know where she is anymore, and some people are beginning to wonder if she is anymore. The Seelie and Unseelie have been smearing their bloody war all over our world since her disappearance, and although some might say Im being broody and pessimistic, I think the Unseelie are gaining the distinct upper hand over their fairer brethren.

Which is a really, really bad thing.

Not that I like the Seelie any better. I dont. The only good Fae is a dead Fae in my book. Its just that the Seelie arent quite as lethal as the Unseelie. They dont kill us on sight. They have a use for us.

Sex.

Though they barely credit us with sentience, they have a taste for us in bed.

When theyre done with a woman, shes a mess. It gets in her blood. Unprotected Fae-sex awakens a frenzy of sexual hunger inside a woman for something she should never have had to begin with, and will never be able to forget. It takes a long time for her to recoverbut at least shes alive.

Which means a chance to fight another day. To help try to find a way to return our world to what it once was.

To send those Fae bastards back to whatever hell they came from.

But Im getting ahead of myself, ahead of the story.

It began as most things begin. Not on a dark and stormy night. Not foreshadowed by ominous here-comes-the-villain music, dire warnings at the bottom of a teacup, or dread portents in the sky.

It began small and innocuously, as most catastrophes do. A butterfly flaps its wings somewhere and the wind changes, and a warm front hits a cold front off the coast of western Africa and before you know it youve got a hurricane closing in. By the time anyone figured out the storm was coming, it was too late to do anything but batten down the hatches and exercise damage control.

My name is MacKayla. Mac for short. Im a sidhe-seer, a fact I accepted only recently and very reluctantly.

There were more of us out there than anyone knew. And its a damn good thing, too.

Were damage control.

ONE

A year earlier...

J uly 9. Ashford, Georgia.

Ninety-four degrees. Ninety-seven percent humidity.

It gets crazy hot in the South in the summer, but its worth it to have such short, mild winters. I like most all seasons and climes. I can get into an overcast drizzly autumn daygreat for curling up with a good bookevery bit as much as a cloudless blue summer sky, but Ive never cared much for snow and ice. I dont know how northerners put up with it. Or why. But I guess its a good thing they do, otherwise theyd all be down here crowding us out.

Native to the sultry southern heat, I was lounging by the pool in the backyard of my parents house, wearing my favorite pink polka-dotted bikini which went perfectly with my new Im-Not-Really-a-Waitress-Pink manicure and pedicure. I was sprawled in a cushion-topped chaise soaking up the sun, my long blonde hair twisted up in a spiky knot on top of my head in one of those hairdos you really hope nobody ever catches you wearing. Mom and Dad were away on vacation, celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary with a twenty-one-day island-hopping cruise through the tropics, which had begun two weeks ago in Maui and ended next weekend in Miami.

Id been working devotedly on my tan in their absence, taking quick dips in the cool sparkling blue, then stretching out to let the sun toast drops of water from my skin, wishing my sister Alina was around to hang out with, and maybe invite a few friends over.

My iPod was tucked into my dads Bose SoundDock on the patio table next to me, bopping cheerily through a playlist Id put together specifically for poolside sunning, composed of the top one hundred one-hit wonders from the past few decades, plus a few others that make me smilehappy mindless music to pass happy mindless time. It was currently playing an old Louis Armstrong songWhat a Wonderful World. Born in a generation that thinks cynical and disenchanted is cool, sometimes Im a little off the beaten track. Oh well.

A tall glass of chilled sweet tea was at hand, and the phone was nearby in case Mom and Dad made ground sooner than expected. They werent due ashore the next island until tomorrow, but twice now theyd landed sooner than scheduled. Since Id accidentally dropped my cell phone in the pool a few days ago, Id been toting the cordless around so I wouldnt miss a call.

Fact was, I missed my parents like crazy.

At first, when they left, Id been elated by the prospect of time alone. I live at home and when my parents are there the house sometimes feels annoyingly like Grand Central Station, with Moms friends, Dads golf buddies, and ladies from the church popping in, punctuated by neighborhood kids stopping over with one excuse or another, conveniently clad in their swim trunksgee, could they be angling for an invitation?

But after two weeks of much longed for solitude, Id begun choking on it. The rambling house seemed achingly quiet, especially in the evenings. Around supper time Id been feeling downright lost. Hungry, too. Moms an amazing cook and Id burned out fast on pizza, potato chips, and mac-n-cheese. I couldnt wait for one of her fried chicken, mashed potatoes, fresh turnip greens, and peach pie with homemade whipped-cream dinners. Id even done the grocery shopping in anticipation, stocking up on everything she needed.

I love to eat. Fortunately, it doesnt show. Im healthy through the bust and bottom, but slim through the waist and thighs. I have good metabolism, though Mom says, Ha, wait until youre thirty. Then forty, then fifty. Dad says, More to love, Rainey and gives Mom a look that makes me concentrate really hard on something else. Anything else. I adore my parents, but theres such a thing as TMI.