"Yup. Oh, and by the way," Kimi went on, with a quick glance at Ironhorse, clanking along behind them. "Leanansidhe knows about...um...his kind. They've been killing off lots of exiles lately, and it's making her mad. Your 'friend' should be really careful around her. I don't know how she'll 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."

" Okay. " she looked at Ironhorse. " Try using your inside voice, okay? "

She just rolls her eyes again, her fingers starting to bleed.

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 stared at the paintings she had only seen in books and on the internet.

Isiea just rolls her eye. Again.

Brown hair hung limp and shaggy on his shoulders, looking as if it hadn't 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. His eyes were closed, and his muscles trembled as if from exertion. He seemed to be waiting for something. A slow clapping came from the top of the stairs. It was none other than Grimalkin, 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.

"Bravo, Charles." Her voice was pure song, made of poetry given sound, of every creative notion you've ever had. "That was quite magnificent. You can go now."

She just ignores the lady.

Lise didn't say a word as she looked up at them, although she did want to punch Grim. But refrained from doing so, for now.

The man rose shakily to his feet, grinning like a little kid whose finger painting had been praised by the teacher. He was younger than the girls' stepdad, but not by much, the hint of a beard shadowing his mouth and jaw. When he turned and spotted them, his face and hazel eyes were blank of reason, as empty as the sky.

The man blinked, dazed for a moment, but then his eyes widened.

"You," he muttered, shambling forward, jabbing at the girls with a finger. "I know you. Dont I? Dont I? Who are you? Who?" He frowned, an anguished expression crossing his face. "The rats whisper in the darkness," he said, clutching at his hair. "They whisper. I cant remember their names. They tell me..." His eyes narrowed and he panted, glaring at them. "Rag girl, flying round my bed. Who are you? Who?" This last was a shout, and he lurched forward. Ironhorse stepped between them with a rumbling growl, and the man leaped back, hands flying to his face. "No," he whimpered, cringing on the floor, arms cradling his head. "No one in here. Empty empty empty. Who am I? I dont know. The rats tell me, but I forget."

"That is enough." Leanansidhe floated down the staircase, her gown trailing behind her. Sweeping up to the human, she touched him lightly on the head. "Charles, darling, I have guests now," she murmured, as he gazed up at her with teary eyes. "Why dont you take a bath, and then you can play for us at dinner?"

Charles sniffled. "Girls," he whimpered, clutching at his hair. "In my head."

"Yes, I know, darling. But if you dont leave, Ill have to turn you into a harp. Go on, now. Shoo, shoo." She made little fluttery motions with her hands, and with one final glance at the girls, the man scuttled away.