The cobbled stones were slippery from the misting rain. I watched in horror as a young girl fell, crying out. She was trampled in seconds as the crowd swept on. An elderly man—why on earth was he out here?—went down next. A teenage boy was jostled into a streetlamp, rebounded, lost his balance, and vanished from view.

For time uncounted then, I was driven by a single imperative: Stay on your feet. Stay alive.

I rode the crowd, an unwilling mount, feet trapped in the stirrups, from one block to the next. Twice I managed to break free, fight my way to the outer fringes, only to be drowned in the herd again, propelled forward by its relentless stampede.

I feared two things: that they would gallop me straight into a Dark Zone, or that the Sinsar Dubh would make a sudden appearance, and I’d fall to my knees, clutching my head. I couldn’t decide which death would be worse.

My cell phone was in my backpack, but there wasn’t enough room to maneuver in the crowd and get to it. I worried that if I slipped my pack from my shoulders, it would be jerked from my hands and carried off. My spear was cold and heavy under my arm, but I was afraid if I whipped it out, I might be speared by it in the crush.

Unseelie.

I had baby food jars of it in my pockets.

With its dark life in my veins I would be able to break free of the mob.

We were nearing the edge of the Temple Bar District. The Dark Zone wasn’t far. Were we being deliberately driven? If I were able to float above this riot, would I see Unseelie herding us from behind, cattle to the slaughter?

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Oops, didn’t mean to hit you.” Without pissing off anyone badly enough to get myself punched, I managed to extract a jar from my pocket. I’d twisted the lids too tight to open them one-handed. I jostled for space, and popped the lid. Someone shoved into me and I lost my hold on it. I felt it hit my boot and then it was gone.

Gritting my teeth, I dug for another one. I had three in my pockets. The rest were sealed in plastic bags tucked inside my boots. I’d never be able to get to them in the crush. I was more careful with this jar, easing it out, clutching it for dear life—which I hoped it was. I had to get out of the crowd. I knew my landmarks. I was two blocks from the Dark Zone. I managed to pop the lid but was unwilling to duck my head to eat it, for fear of taking an elbow in the eye, freezing or stumbling in pain, and going down.