The skull sighed. "Do I have to tell you?"
"Dude," I said. "Since when has it been like that between us?"
"Since you started working for her her," Bob said, and somehow managed to shudder.
I tilted my head, thinking as hard as I could. "Wait. This has to do with your feud with Mab?"
"Not a feud," Bob says. "In a feud, both sides fight. This is more like me screaming and running away before she rips me apart."
I shook my head. "Man, Bob. I know you can be an annoying git when you want to be one-but what did you do do to make Mab mad at you?" to make Mab mad at you?"
"It isn't what I do, Harry," Bob said in a very small voice. "It's what I know."
I lifted an eyebrow. It took a lot to make the skull flinch. "And what is that, exactly?"
The lights in the eye sockets dwindled to tiny pinpoints, and his voice came out in a whisper. "I know how to kill an immortal."
"Like Maeve?" I asked him.
"Maeve," Bob said. "Mab. Mother Winter. Any of them."
Holy crap.
Now, that that was a piece of information worth killing for. was a piece of information worth killing for.
If the skull knew how to subtract the im im from from immortal immortal, then he could be a source of danger to beings of power throughout the universe. Hell, he was lucky that gods and demons and supernatural powers everywhere hadn't formed up in a safari and come gunning for him. And it meant that maybe I wasn't looking at an impossible mission after all.
"I'd like you to tell me," I said.
"No way," Bob said. "No way. The only reason I've been around this long is that I've kept my mouth shut. If I start shooting it off now, Mab and every other immortal with an interest in this stupid planet are going to smash my skull to powder and leave me out to fry in the sun." The eyelights bobbed toward the rear compartment. "And there are too many ears around here."
"Toot," I said, "get everybody out of the car. I need privacy. Make sure no one gets close enough to eavesdrop."
"Aw," Toot complained from the rear compartment. "Not even me?"
"You're the only one I can trust to keep those other mugs from doing it, Major General. No one overhears. Got it?"
I could practically hear the pride bursting out of his voice: "Got it!" he piped. "Will do, my lord!"
He rolled down a window and buzzed out. I rolled it back up and took a look around the hearse with both normal and supernatural senses, to be sure we were alone. Then I turned back to the skull.
"Bob, it's just you and me talking here. Think about this. Mab sends me off to kill Maeve, something that would be impossible for me to do on my own-and she knew knew that you know how to do it. She knew the first thing I would do is come back that you know how to do it. She knew the first thing I would do is come back here here as the first step in the job. I think she meant for me to come to you. I think she meant for you to tell me." as the first step in the job. I think she meant for me to come to you. I think she meant for you to tell me."
The skull considered that for a moment. "It's indirect and manipulative, so you're probably onto something. Let me think." A long minute went by. Then he spoke very quietly. "If I tell you," he said, "you've got to do something for me."
"Like what?"
"A new vessel," he said. "You've got to make me a new house. Somewhere I can get to it. Then if they come after this one, I've got somewhere else to go."
"Tall order for me," I said soberly. "You've basically got your own little pocket dimension in there. I've never tried anything that complicated before. Not even Little Chicago."
"Promise me," Bob said. "Promise me on your power."
Swearing by one's power is how a wizard makes a verbal contract. If you break your word, your ability with magic starts to fray, and if you keep doing it, sooner or later it'll just wither up and die. A broken promise, sworn by my power, could set me back years and years in terms of my ability to use magic. I held up my hand. "I swear, on my power, to construct a new vessel for you if you tell me, Bob, assuming I survive the next few days. Just... don't expect a deluxe place like you have now."
The flickering eyelights flared up to their normal size again. "Don't worry, boss," Bob said with compassion. "I won't."
"Wiseass."
"Right, then!" Bob said. "The only way to kill an immortal is at certain specific places."
"And you know one? Where?"
"Hah, already you're making a human assumption. There are more than three dimensions, Harry. Not all places are in space. Some of them are places in time time. They're called conjunctions."
"I know about conjunctions, Bob," I said, annoyed. "When the stars and planets align. You can use them to support heavy-duty magic sometimes."
"That's one way to measure a conjunction," said the skull. "But stars and planets are ultimately just measuring stakes used to describe a position in time. And that's one way to use use a conjunction, but they do other things, too." a conjunction, but they do other things, too."
I nodded thoughtfully. "And there's a conjunction when immortals are vulnerable?"
"Give the man a cookie; he's got the idea. Every year."
"When is it?"
"On Halloween night, of course."
I slammed on the brakes and pulled the car to the side of the road. "Say that again?"
"Halloween," Bob said, his voice turning sober. "It's when the world of the dead is closest to the mortal world. Everyone-everything-standing in this world is mortal on Halloween."
I let out a low, slow whistle.
"I doubt there are more than a couple of people alive who know that, Harry," Bob said. "And the immortals will will keep it that way." keep it that way."
"Why are they so worried?" I asked. "I mean, why not just not show up on Halloween night?"
"Because it's when they..." He made a frustrated noise. "It's hard to explain, because you don't have the right conceptual models. You can barely count to four dimensions."
"I think the math guys can go into the teens. Skip the insults and try."
"Halloween is when they feed," Bob said. "Or... or refuel. Or run free. It's all sort of the same thing, and I'm only conveying a small part of it. Halloween night is when the locked stasis of immortality becomes malleable. They take in energy-and it's when they can add new power to their mantle. Mostly they steal tiny bits of it from other immortals."
"Those Kemmlerite freaks and their Darkhallow," I breathed. "That was Halloween night."
"Exactly!" Bob said. "That ritual was supposed to turn one of them into into an immortal. And the same rule applies-that's the only night of the year it actually can happen. I doubt all of an immortal. And the same rule applies-that's the only night of the year it actually can happen. I doubt all of them them knew that it had to be that night. But I betcha Cowl did. Guy is seriously scary." knew that it had to be that night. But I betcha Cowl did. Guy is seriously scary."
"Seriously in need of a body cast and a therapist, more like." I raked at my too-long, too-messy hair with my fingers, thinking. "So on Halloween, they're here? All of them?"
"Any who are... The only word I can come close with is 'awake.' Immortals aren't always moving through the time stream at the same rate as the universe. From where you stand, it looks like they're dormant. They aren't. You just can't perceive the true state of their existence properly."
"They're here here," I said slowly. "Feeding and swindling one another for little bits of power."
"Right."
"They're trick-or-treating?"
"Duh," Bob said. "Where do you think that comes from?"
"Ugh, this whole time? That is creepy beyond belief," I said.
"I think it was the second or third Merlin of the White Council who engineered the whole Halloween custom. That's the real reason people started wearing masks on that night, back in the day. It was so that any hungry immortal who came by might-might-think twice before gobbling someone up. After all, they could never be sure the person behind the mask wasn't another immortal, setting them up."
"Halloween is tomorrow night," I said. A bank sign I was passing told me it was a bit after two a.m. "Or tonight, I guess, technically."
"What a coincidence," Bob said. "Happy birthday, by the way. I didn't get you anything."
Except maybe my life. "'S okay. I'm kinda birthdayed out already." I rubbed at my jaw. "So... if I can get to Maeve on Halloween night, I can kill her."
"Well," Bob hedged. "You can try, anyway. It's technically possible. It doesn't mean you're strong enough to do it."
"How big a window do I have? When does Halloween night end?" I asked.
"At the first natural morning birdsong," Bob replied promptly. "Songbirds, rooster, whatever. They start to sing, the night ends."
"Oh, good. A deadline." I narrowed my eyes, thinking. "Gives me a bit more than twenty-four hours, then," I muttered. "And all I have to do is find her, when she can be anywhere in the world or or the Nevernever, then get her here, then beat her down, all without her escaping or killing me first. Simple." the Nevernever, then get her here, then beat her down, all without her escaping or killing me first. Simple."
"Yep. Almost impossible, but simple. And at least you know the when and the how," Bob said.
"But I'm no closer to why."
"Can't help you there, boss," the skull said. "I'm a spirit of intellect, and the premise we're dealing with makes no sense."
"Why not?"
"Because there's no reason reason for it," Bob said, his tone unhappy. "I mean, when Maeve dies, there will just be another Maeve." for it," Bob said, his tone unhappy. "I mean, when Maeve dies, there will just be another Maeve."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Bob sighed. "You keep thinking of the Faerie Queens as specific individuals, Harry," Bob said. "But they aren't individuals. They're mantles of power, roles, positions. The person in them is basically an interchangeable part."
"What, like being the Winter Knight is?"
"Exactly like that," Bob said. "When you killed Slate, the power, the mantle, just transferred over to you. It's the same for the Queens of Faerie. Maeve wears the mantle of the Winter Lady. Kill her, and you'll just get a new Winter Lady."
"Maybe that's what Mab wants," I said.
"Doesn't track," Bob said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because the mantle changes whoever wears it."
My guts felt suddenly cold.
(I'm not Lloyd Slate.) (Neither was he. Not at first.) "Doesn't matter who it is," Bob prattled on. "Over time, it changes them. Somewhere down the line, you wouldn't be able to find much difference between Maeve and her successor. Meet the new Maeve. Same as the old Maeve."
I swallowed. "So... so Lily, who took the Summer Lady's mantle after I killed Aurora..."
"It's been what? Ten years or so? She's gone by now, or getting there," Bob said. "Give it another decade or two, tops, and she might as well be be Aurora." Aurora."
I was quiet for a moment. Then I asked, "Is that going to happen to me, too?"
Bob hedged. "You've... probably felt it starting. Um, strong impulses. Intense emotions. That kind of thing. It builds. And it doesn't stop." He managed to give the impression of a wince. "Sorry, boss."
I stared at my knuckles for a moment. "So," I said, "even if I frag this Maeve, another one steps up. Maybe not for decades, but she does."
"Immortals don't really care about decades, boss," Bob said. "To them, it's like a few weeks are to you."
I nodded thoughtfully. "Then maybe it's about the timing."
"How so?"
I shrugged. "Hell if I know, but it's the only thing I can think of. Maybe Mab wants a less Maeve-ish Maeve for the next few years."
"Why?" Bob asked.
I growled. "I already have one why. I don't need you adding more." I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. "Why doesn't Mab do it herself?"
"Oh, I see. It's okay if you you add more whys. You have complicated rules, Harry." add more whys. You have complicated rules, Harry."
I ignored that with the disdain it deserved. "I'm serious. Mab has the power. What's stopping her from tearing Maeve to shreds?"
"Something?" Bob suggested.
"I can't believe I got my tux shredded for brilliant analysis like that," I said.
"Hey!" Bob said. "I just told you something so valuable that it could save your life! Or get you killed!"
"Yeah." I sighed. "You did. But it isn't enough. I need more information."
"You do know a few people around here," Bob said.
I growled. "My physical therapist, who I've known for three whole months, nearly died tonight because she showed up at a party with me-and that was with Mab looking over my shoulder as a referee."
"How is that any different from the last time you played with faeries?"
"Because now I know them," I said. It was actually sort of scary looking back at the me from a decade ago. That guy was terrifying in his ignorance. "Aurora and her crew were basically a decent crowd. Misguided, yeah. But to them, we were the bad guys. They were tough, but they weren't killers. Maeve's different."