You Must Fall In Love

Chapter Forty-Three

"I've received word that the Hunters Three are coming to Stagport."

Jen looked up at August in surprise. Her fountain pen fell from her hand, making a long and messy smear all across the page.

Oh no, my Waterman, was her immediate thought, followed by, isn't someone here?

"Ah," she said. "Hello, August."

The Prince of Faerie smiled, charming as always, although to Jen's keen and (dare she say) polished mind he was much less charming than an old yellow book and much more charming than a research deadline. To wit, she didn't particularly dislike him; Jen was one of those people who traipsed through life trying to make as few enemies as possible, perfectly happy in the knowledge of her own strange interests, like ancient Chinese magic and royal blue ink and burgers from Cheese Gore.

"That's not much of a acknowledgement," he said. "You do know who the Hunters Three are, right?"

She did know who the Hunters Three were. She knew that they were dangerous, generally disliked, some might say criminal. She knew that they held some very intolerant ideas on the proper place of the fantastical-born, beings with Otherworldly heritage like Rob and August.

Well, there were perils in Magedom, just as much as there were in the regular world, and while she hadn't actually encountered anything more dangerous than a hot stove in her whole life, she knew that the only thing she had to thank for that was capricious fortune.

She also knew that the Hunters Three hadn't been seen for the last year at least, which made August's sudden mention rather puzzling.

"Maybe I don't," she said, putting her hands over her head and stretching to the best of her ability. "How do you know they're coming to Stagport?"

"I have my sources," said August, picking up her ruined notebook like a dead fish. "What's this?"

Any other girl would be embarrassed, but Jen had long transcended the concept of embarrassment. It was why Christine always got embarrassed on her behalf.

"Oh, those? They're my notes," said Jen. "I'm still doing manuscript research, you know... on the Hart Princess thing."

"And I made you spill your pen?" smirked August. "This is why quills are superior. Not that I would know, of course, I've never seen the need for one."

"Well, actually," said Jen, "if you spilt an inkwell..."

August held up his hands in surrender.

"I yield, I yield. I'm not here to get into an argument with you."

"But I wasn't trying to argue," frowned Jen.

"Jen, darling, even though I have a great respect for your intellect — inasmuch as any of my kind can have any respect for any human, of course — I also think that you are delightfully innocent, which I cannot find anything but egregiously quaint."

Jen's frown turned upside down. She loved it when she had to decipher other people's speech!

"Ooh, you kidder!" she chirped. "What happened to your vocabulary?"

"What do you mean?" asked August. This time, he was the one with the frown.

"Egregious doesn't mean what you think it does," grinned Jen. "Did they not teach you that in Elfland Human Speech School, or whatever they have over there?"

August stared at her, as if trying to work out how serious she was, then coughed and looked away.

"Anyway," he said, clearly ignoring the gaffe to save his composure, "the Hunters Three are heading here. This is a problem."

Despite Jen's tendency to minimize all non-scholarly problems, she had to agree that this was indeed a great inconvenience. As a matter of fact, it was a very dangerous situation for them in particular.

"Do you think they know about the Hart Princess?" she asked.

"I don't know," said August, "but they definitely know about me."

"Wait, how?"

August shrugged, then flashed his trademark saucy grin. He had restored his composure in less than twenty seconds.

"Being a prince is hard work," he said. "You have far too many enemies and almost no friends."

It was actually rather impressive, because Jen had no idea herself how anyone managed to hide anything they were feeling. She just said what was on her mind most of the time.

"In that case," she said, "we need to tell the Conclave."

"Oh, you know how that lot works," said August. "I understand your family is reasonably competent, but if the Conclave of Virginia really wanted to stand up for Otherworldly rights, they'd have done something about the Hunters Three by now. Why, I'm half-convinced that you have some secret sympathisers on your side."

"That's a terrible thing to say," said Jen, brow crinkling.

"But am I wrong?" asked August.

She looked at him, searching for some hint of irony in his smile, but it was like trying to see through to the bottom of a lake in summer. It was just too bright.

Maybe Christine would be better at this? No, actually, Christine was objectively worse at dealing with August.

"No," she said. "I don't think you are."

"Why, thank you," said August. "Assuming I'm right — which I am, because of course I am — the next thing we have to ask is what the Hunters Three are here for."

"I thought they were here for you."

"But what if they aren't? What if they're here for Christine? Or the beast?"

"The beast? You mean Rob?"

"I meant the beast," said August.

"Well, I mean Rob," said Jen, putting on her best smile. "He can sprout bird stuff from his hands, right? He'll be fine."

"I was thinking more in terms of inconvenience."

"Well, I'm more concerned about Christine. She can't sprout bird stuff from her hands. Or any stuff at all, actually."

August nodded.

"We have two courses of action. Sit here and wait for the Hunters Three to come to us, or go out to meet them. I think you know which one is the better choice."

Something about this didn't sit right with Jen. She was perfectly aware that she was a bit scatterbrained at the best of times, but still...

"Oh dear, Jen, did I say something wrong?"

"I don't like keeping things from others," she said. "It's the same as lying, in my point of view."

"Everyone lies, darling. I like to think of this as a creative omission."

This didn't seem to bother August at all, but then again, what could? He was one of the fey, the laughing folk who changed their own faces at a whim, who switched babies in their cradles and hid themselves in trees, laughing like sunbeams in the shadows.

"Let me tell you another secret, then, about the beast. You'll have to keep this one, and then you can work out what you want to do about the Hunters."

He leaned in before she could step away.

"The Bestiary curse isn't hereditary," he whispered, his breath sweet as cloves. "It's just a curse. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to play my guitar and sing happy love songs."

He smiled at her, then left the room, waving wryly. It took her a while to put what he said together, but when she did, the room felt different.

She knew what this was. It was the same feeling that she had when coming across a strange set of foreign glyphs, an unknown incantation that might be blessing or curse.

It was the dreadful, exciting, coagulating thought of another mystery.