These characters belong to the brilliant Karen Marie Moning. My brain just likes to fill in the gaps between moments from time to time.

Many have asked about TBOJ. I thought when I posted that last chap I was done. Really. Turns out JZB wasn't quite done with me, and for that I am... thankful. But I had already fleshed this one out so you'll have to bear with me for a bit.

It bugged me that Mac got nauseous whenever she came into contact with Objects of Power, or OOPs as she liked to call them. I kept wondering what she ate and how she dealt with it, cause we all know it sucks to be nauseous.

This story takes place early in Darkfever, following Mac and Barrons visit to Casa Blanc. Barrons has just proven that Mac can sense the Sinsar Dubh… which means she just became useful to him. He now had his very own personal bloodhound.

Big thanks to my lovely betas, the wonderful Tradermare and the delightful Indigobuni, who whipped out their red pens and looked this one over and got it in shape so you could read it.

I followed him into the store, bone tired and starving.

"Do you have a kitchen I can borrow?"

"No."

"Oh."

And with that, Jericho Barrons turned and disappeared down the hall.

I trudged up the stairs hoping there might be something in my room I could eat besides microwave popcorn and candy bars. I was going to have to do something about this. Between my high metabolism, the constant nausea, and the vomiting in the presence of OOPs, I really was feeling like crap. Tonight had been the worst, but after my encounter with the Sinsar Dubh, no wait, photocopies of two pages of it, all other fae objects would probably pale in comparison. At least I hoped they would.

Staying out all hours with Barrons hunting OOPs wasn't helping either. Thankfully it was Sunday, the bookstore would be closed, and I wouldn't have to deal with Fiona. She hadn't said a kind word to me since Barrons had insisted I stay in his bookstore. I nearly fell off the couch when she asked me if I wanted a sandwich earlier today.

Before we had left for our nocturnal activities, Barrons had taken out the pages of the Sinsar Dubh. He wanted me to become desensitized to it. I wanted to kill him. He insisted that after repeated exposure I would build up immunity to the Fae and fae objects. I had doubled over throwing up my meager dinner of half a leftover sandwich from lunch.

Food. I really needed some. Maybe I could take some of that money I wasn't spending on rent and splurge on some real groceries. Things I could keep easily in my room - bread, fruit, peanut butter.

I didn't know if it was the lack of food in my stomach, the thought of all the food I was going to buy, or walking up five flights of stairs, but as soon as I got back to my room I felt sick again. I was determined not to throw up this time.

Kicking off my heels and stripping off my tight, black dress, I made my way to the bathroom. Tonight we had gone hunting at Casa Blanc, a steel and glass monstrosity of a house that stood in stark contrast to the beautifully manicured grounds it sat on. There I met yet another player who was hunting for the Sinsar Dubh, McCabe.

McCabe looked like a ridiculous version of the ice cream man in his all white garb. He and Barrons traded vulgar pleasantries while I stood there trying not to scream. I couldn't stop thinking about Alina. Had she been here? Had she known these people, been a pawn in their game? I had a hard time believing she could have been a part of this world, but then again I was still having a hard time accepting my new place in it.

I was only too happy when McCabe dismissed us. That was short lived when Barrons had me spend the rest of the night walking the house and then the grounds looking for fae objects. Bastard.

Bending over the sink I washed my face and gulped down some water. The cool liquid slid down my throat, easing the tension a bit, but as I stood back up I felt dizzy. I ran over to the toilet, doubled over and began dry heaving. Thankfully the water stayed down. I really needed to eat something.

It was quarter after five in the morning and the sky was beginning to lighten. Giving up on sleep for the moment, I decided to take a shower, put on some fresh clothes and wait until one of the pastry shops opened. Without something in my stomach it was highly unlikely I'd get any sleep, and god only knows what Barrons was going to torture me with later night.

I tried to make the shower last as long as I could, shaving my legs, scrubbing the now calloused heels of my feet, conditioning my hair. When I was properly moisturized and dressed I glanced at the time. It wasn't even six o'clock. I really had no idea what time the bakeries around here opened, but I somehow doubted it would be this early.

Pulling a large wingback chair over to one of the picture windows in my borrowed bedroom, I tried to write in my journal as the sun rose over the garage rooftop, but my eyes wouldn't focus.

Rubbing my temples, I tried to think of all the things an OOP Detector could detect. Just how many OOPs were out there, because really, what good was I if I vomited or passed out every time I came near an Object Of Power.

Maybe I could head up the Order of Penguins instead. Or crack down on Oglers of Porn, not that I was necessarily against that... Or maybe I could sell Oil of Patchouli. Except I really didn't like the smell of that stuff.

Taking a deep breath, I got up and began fishing through my suitcase for my cosmetics cases. Taking out the one that held my nail polish, I began organizing them on the window sill. Perhaps I could write a blog and offer Opinions on Polish. I began scrutinizing them to determine which ones would still work with my newer, darker hair shade. Then I began pulling out my accessories and doing the same thing.

I was definitely going to need a trip to the mall.

After I was sure she was in her bedroom I'd gone to my study and entered the silver that led directly to my real study. Well not quite directly.

I smelled him as soon as I stepped through. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ryodan pointed to the monitors, one of my apples, half-eaten, in his hand. "Your new pet is sick."

Growling low in my throat, "Did you find anything?"

"Has it been so long since you've had a pet? You have to feed and water them or they die." The fucker smiled at me while he ate my apple.

I went around to where he was standing and scanned the wall of monitors. Narrowing in on the ones in her bedroom, I didn't see anything.

"She's in the bathroom, retching."

Fuck. As in what the fuck have I gotten myself into. I headed to the kitchen and began pulling out a frying pan, eggs and some fruit.

"She's not my pet. She's a sidhe-seer... and a null."

Ryodan came out of the study and hopped up on one of my counters. "And something else, I bet. Why else would you have agreed to protect her? And why the fuck are the rest of us agreeing to protect her? Although... she does have a lovely ass."

The pan missed him by an inch.

"We've been over this. I have not searched this long and this hard for so many years to be undone by you or anyone else—"

"Whoa…easy Z. We all want to find the book, you know that. Nothing has changed. Except maybe you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying you seem to care about this one. You need to be careful."

"Yes, I care that she doesn't do something stupid and get herself killed before she's done being useful to me. That's what I care about."

Ryodan tossed the core into the nearby trashbin and put his hands up. "Okay, I'm just checking." He grabbed another apple and started backing out of the kitchen. "Gotta get back to the club. Call me if you need help keeping an eye on her." Then he winked at me.

That time I didn't miss.

I was halfway up the first flight of stairs when I heard the back door click shut. I raced up to the landing just in time to look out the window and see her rounding the corner of my building.

Bloody fucking hell.

Still gripping the tray of food I had just made for her, I ran back down and toward the front of the store, watching as she walked past. She had on some kind of flowing pink skirt that swayed as she walked, showing off tan, lean legs. A tight white top melded to curves that were entirely too feminine on that body. A green cardigan hung loosely over her arm.

Rage began bubbling inside me. Setting the tray down, I unlatched the bolts on the door and followed her down the street.