When I arrived at my old apartment building, Grace sat on the stoop, bundled up against the cold. As I approached, she said, “I don’t like having her here.”

“There’s no place else—”

“I know that. But the shorter her visit, the better. She disturbs things. Her energy…” She made a face, as if talk of “energy” was for flightier fae. “She’s soul-reft. That’s what they used to say about changelings. People could tell they were fae because they lacked a soul.”

“Which is true, isn’t it?” I said as I climbed the steps. “You guys don’t get an afterlife. Technically, then, you lack whatever we call a soul.”

“Except we never had it,” she said. “We aren’t supposed to have it. Humans are.”

I looked at the building. “You really think Seanna lacks…?”

“She lacks something. I say soul-reft because she feels empty.” Another face. “Whatever that means.”

“Was she always like that?” I asked.

“She was never a pleasant child. She could be, if she got her way. She had a selfish streak a mile wide.”

“Doesn’t that go for all children?”

“Double for her. But Seanna had her good side, too. Then she grew up—and I don’t know if it was the drugs or the booze or the men—but it’s like she went looking for something, and it drained all the good from her. Made her queen of her own universe, where others exist only to benefit her.”

“You mean she became more fae-like.”

Grace wagged a bony finger at me. “You have as much fae as she does. Probably more.” She settled back in the chair. “But yes, it made her like us. Except, again, we’re supposed to be like this. We work around it to form attachments. Otherwise we’d never be able to live in this damned town together.”

“And you wouldn’t be running a home for aged fae.”

She snorted. “That’s not altruism. Don’t go making that mistake, girl. None of us knows the real meaning of the word.”

“But nor are you so self-absorbed that you destroy even useful relationships, the way Seanna does. If she had an ounce of sense, she’d at least feign remorse to wiggle into Gabriel’s good graces and get at his money.”

“She can’t. Something in her is missing, and she cannot overcome it even to her own benefit. I know she needs to be here, but the sooner she’s gone, the better.”

“For everyone.”

She nodded. “Now get in there and rescue poor Ricky. He’s helping those dryads watch over Seanna, and she seems to have decided he’s a very fine-looking young man.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I was still climbing the stairs when Ricky opened the stairwell door.

“Thought I heard you,” he said.

“You mean you were eagerly awaiting the arrival of anyone who might save you from another minute with Seanna Walsh.”