“It has other downsides, too. I’m not sure what they all are, but one of them is that if you get wounded by one of the immortal weapons, you’ll . . .” I described Mallucé ’s death for him. The decomposing flesh, the dying body parts.

“How many of these immortal weapons are there, Ms. Lane?”

“Two.” How far he’d come from denying missing parts of the maps to so casually speaking of dining on monsters and immortal weapons!

“Who has them?”

“Uh, me and someone else.”

He smiled faintly. “I’ll take my chances.”

“It’s addictive.”

“I used to smoke. If I can quit that, I can quit anything.”

“I think it changes you somehow.” I was pretty sure eating Unseelie was why I’d been able to get closer to the Sinsar Dubh. There was a lot about eating Dark Fae I wasn’t clear on, but something had made the Book perceive me as . . . tarnished, diluted.

“Lady, you’ve changed me more than an early heart attack. Quit stalling. No more tips, remember?”

For the time being, I didn’t want tips. I had no desire to know where the Book was, other than as a means of avoiding it.

“You didn’t give me a choice when you opened my eyes,” the inspector said roughly. “You owe me for that.”

I studied his face, the set of his shoulders, his hands. How far I’d come, too. Far from seeing an enemy, an impediment to my progress, I saw a good man sitting in my store, having tea with me. “I’m sorry I made you eat it,” I said.

“I’m not,” he said flatly. “I’d rather die seeing the face of my enemy than die blind.”

I sighed. “You’ll have to come back every few days. I don’t know how long it lasts.”

I went to the counter, rummaged in my purse. He accepted the jars a bit eagerly for my taste, revulsion married to anticipation on his face. I felt like a supplier to a junkie. I felt like a mom, sending her child off to face the perils of first grade. I had to do more than pack his lunch and put him on the bus; I had to give him advice.