He looked so contrite that I thawed a bit, and motioned for him to come down, ignoring Quentin’s deepening scowl. “Fine. Bring those on over here.”

“Sure,” Alex said, giving the room another uneasy glance before descending. Quentin met him at the base of the stairs, taking the tray away and leaving him blinking. No one does imperious quite like a Daoine Sidhe. “Is that everything you needed?”

“For the moment.” I took the first cup from the tray, gesturing for Quentin to follow me over to Barbara’s body. Having Alex there served at least one purpose; Quentin didn’t like him, and that meant he’d be too busy standing on his own dignity to argue when I told him what to do.

“What are you going to do with the water?”

“We’re going to try waking the blood.” I started scraping dried blood from Barbara’s wrist and adding it to the water. Quentin stiffened, but as I expected, he didn’t protest. Dignity is a wonderful tool sometimes.

Alex swallowed, looking sick. “Why?”

“The blood has to be awake for us to ride it.” The water had taken on a pink tinge. I returned the cup to the tray and picked up the second. “If it works, we may be able to see the killer.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“We try something else.”

“Why can’t Jan do it?”

“Because Jan isn’t the daughter of the most powerful blood-worker in Faerie, so she probably couldn’t wake the stuff up in the first place.” I tried to focus on what I was doing. “My mother could do this without breaking a sweat.”

“Right,” said Alex. “So were you able to . . . get anything . . . from Colin’s blood?”

“No, because there was nothing for us to ‘get.’ ” I passed the second cup of bloody water to Quentin. “Here.”

Alex frowned. “Nothing?”

“Nothing. The blood was empty.” I grimaced. “And before you ask, no, it’s not supposed to work that way.”

“So how do you know this time will be any different?”

“I don’t. I’m a half-blood and Quentin’s untrained, and this blood is old enough that I might not get anything under normal circumstances . . . but it’s worth trying.” Pinching my nose, I gulped down the contents of my cup. Quentin did the same with his.

All I got was the bitter, watery taste of diluted blood. There wasn’t a flicker of memory.

Quentin coughed and dropped his cup on the tray. “There’s nothing there.”

I sighed, putting my cup next to his. “It must have been too old.” He didn’t have to know that I was lying. I crossed to Yui’s cot and folded the sheet back, saying, “Maybe three weeks will make the difference.”

“You’re going to try again?” Alex asked.