She stays silent, beginning to walk around and look at the walls out of boredom.

They began to walk down the dimly lit corridors, torchlight flickering over the damp stone walls. Whatever the house looked like, the basement was huge. It was similar to a medieval dungeon, complete with heavy doors, wooden portcullises, and gargoyles leering at them from the walls. Mice scurried over the floor, and other things moved in the shadows, just out of sight. The girl, Kimi, grinned at Claire. "Leanansidhe has lots of clients with very unusual tastes," she explained. "Most of them are exiles, like her, who can't go back into the Nevernever for some reason. She uses us--" she gestured to herself and Nelson "--to fetch things she can't get herself, like that thing with the dragon. Apparently, a banished Winter sidhe in New York is paying a fortune for real dragon eggs."

She nods, "That's sort of dangerous, dont you think? Are you really that willing to risk your lives for this?" She asks.

"We only got one." Kimi giggled. "Then the stupid lizard woke up and we had to book it." She giggled again, smoothing down her ears. "Don't worry, we're not going to decimate the dragon population. Leanansidhe told us to leave a couple behind."

Puck made a noise that might've been appreciation. "And what do you guys get out of this?"

"Free room and board. And the rep that goes with it. We'd be out on the streets, otherwise." Kimi and Nelson shared a secret glance, but Warren was staring at Claire. He'd been doing that since they left to meet Leanansidhe. "The pay's not bad, either," Kimi went on, oblivious to Warrens scrutiny. "At least, its better than the alternative--being hunted down for what we are, getting stepped on by the exiles and the fey who just like it better in the mortal realm. Leanansidhes made it safer for us--you dont screw around with the queens pets. Even the redcap gangs know to leave you alone. For the most part, anyway."

"Well as long as you're safe that's all that matters." She says, glancing at Warren. "Uhm, what?" She mutters.

"Oh, and by the way," Kimi went on, with a quick glance at Ironhorse, clanking along behind them, not having heard Claire talk to Warren. "Leanansidhe knows about...um...his kind. Theyve been killing off lots of exiles lately, and its making her mad. Your friend should be really careful around her. I dont know how shell take an Iron faery in her living room. Ive seen her throw a fit for less."

"Shut up, Kimi," Warren said abruptly. They had reached the end of the hall, where a bright red door waited for them atop a flight of stairs. "I told you, its not a big deal."

She glances up at Ironhorse then back at Kami. "We'll be careful." She nods before looking at Warren. She steps back, closer to Puck. "What's up with him?" She whispers.

Puck shrugged. "Who knows? I've learned from experience that half-breeds can be very tempermental," he said, chuckling at his own joke.

Strains of music drifted down the steps, the low, shivery chords of a piano or organ. The music was dark and haunting. They stepped up and through the doorway into a magnificent foyer, with a double grand staircase sweeping toward a high vaulted ceiling and a roaring fireplace surrounded by plush black sofas. The hardwood floor gleamed red, the walls were patterned in red and black, and gauzy black curtains covered the high arched windows near the back of the room. Nearly every clear space on the wall was taken up by paintings--oil paintings, watercolors, black-and-white sketches. The Mona Lisa smiled her odd little smile on the far wall, next to a weird, disjointed painting that was probably Picasso. Music echoed through the room, dark and haunting piano chords played with such force that they made the air vibrate. An enormous grand piano stood in the corner near the fireplace, the flames dancing in the reflection of the polished wood. Hunched over the keys, a figure in a rumpled white shirt beat and pounded the ivory bars, fingers flying.

She continued to gaze, awed at the decorations and all the paintings. She continued to look around before slowly looking at the figure playing the piano.

Brown hair hung limp and shaggy on his shoulders, looking as if it hadnt been washed in days. His shoulders were broad, though his shirt hung loose on a lean, bony frame that was so thin his spine pressed tightly against his skin. The song ended with one last, vibrating chord. As the notes faded and silence descended on the room, the man remained hunched over the keys. He seemed to be waiting for something. A slow clapping came from the top of the stairs. Grimalkin was sitting on the railing with his tail around his feet, looking perfectly at home. A woman stood on the balcony, her gold and crimson gown billowing around her. Her wavy, waist-length hair shimmered like strands of copper, almost too bright to look at, floating around her face as if it weighed nothing at all. She was pale and tall and magnificent, every inch a queen. Forget Arcadia or Tir Na Nog; they were in her court now, playing by her rules.