So far, I haven’t spotted a single Unseelie. Guess they prefer the city. More to feed on. Kat thinks they won’t go rural ‘til they’ve gorged on urban, so we should be safe for a while, ‘cept for those fecking Shades. ‘Tween times, I check on Mac. Keep trying to get her to eat. Ro has the key to her cell. Don’t know why she needs locking in, since she has all those wards around her and can’t seem to walk. If I don’t get food in her soon, I’ll be requisitioning that key. I can coax her to crawl over to the bars, but I can’t force her to eat through them.

Thing I really want to know is: Where the feck is V’lane? Why hasn’t he come for Mac? Why didn’t he stop the Unseelie Princes from raping her? I call for him as I dart around the countryside, but if he hears me yelling, he doesn’t answer to me. Guess not to Mac anymore, either.

And Barrons—what’s his deal? Doesn’t he want her alive? Why have they all abandoned her when she needs ‘em the most?

Men.

Dude, they suck.

I dump supplies in the dining hall. Superglue, lights, batteries, brackets. Nobody looks up. Sidhe-seers at every table, making more of the cool helmet Mac was wearing the night we fought together. After I snatched her from the princes, Kat and the others went in, kicked ass, snagged Mac’s spear and backpack, and found the pink helmet inside.

Now they got an assembly line going that I keep supplied, ‘cept it’s getting hard to find Click-It lights. I might have to go into Dublin, even though Ro says not to raid stores there.

Since so many of us work as bike couriers for Post Haste, Inc. — that’s the front for the international sidhe-seer coalition, with offices around the world—most of us already have our own helmets. Just need ‘em modified. With Shades in the abbey, everybody’s arguing to be first in line for the next one done. I told ‘em Mac called it a MacHalo, but Ro forbade anyone to call it that, like it pissed her off Mac thought of it or something.