"Waiting for the Cwn Annwn. Do you think the Huntsmen enjoy finding humans lying in wait for them? They have business to attend to, and they do not appreciate the distraction from their Hunt."
"I have business with them. My husband has been murdered, and his family say they have the blood of the fair folk in their veins."
"Hmm." The man eyed the woman, his gaze piercing hers. "Killed in war?"
"Yes, with a neighboring clan."
"And he was a warrior, taken down in the field by yet another warrior?"
"Yes. Murdered--"
"No, killed in battle. Having willingly gone to battle. Slain fairly. That is not the concern of the Hunt."
She bristled. "He had fae blood--"
"Perhaps, but it would not matter."
"That is for the Cwn Annwn to decide."
"I would suggest that they already have."
Another rustle, and the woman turned as a giant black hound stepped out. She staggered back. The man raised his hand, stopping the cwn. Then he turned to the woman.
"You will go home, yes?" he said.
She nodded.
"Good. Mourn your husband there and hope that your children's generation will not find war-making quite so palatable a solution to their disputes."
After that vision had faded, I tumbled through two more, one from the eighties, a woman in big hair and aviator frames fleeing from the Hunt, swearing she'd killed her lover in a drug-induced rage. The lead Huntsman said it did not matter--she took the drugs of her own free will, and thus she was guilty.
The other vignette was set in the thirties or forties, with a man calling on the Hunt to avenge the death of his brother, strangled by a friend during a psychotic break. Like the woman in the swamp, his case was refused. The young man had sought help for his illness and been ignored; therefore, the death was not his fault, but that of the society that turned its back on him.
When I surfaced from the visions, I sat there a moment, assimilating.
Then Patrick said, "And..."
"I saw four cases. Four instances where the Cwn Annwn decided whether or not a death deserved punishment. Crime of passion? Yes. A cheating spouse doesn't justify murder. Killed in battle? No. You signed up for that. Acted under the influence? Yes. Again, you took that chance. Mental illness, after having sought help? No, you tried to prevent actions that are beyond your control."
"Reasonable."
"Exactly. I agree with the Cwn Annwn in every one of those cases. Which all suggest I'm missing something in my solution to Alan Nansen's death."
I rose. "Thanks for the library access. I should get going. If Gabriel doesn't need me back at the office, I might actually surprise him by making dinner while I think this through."
"Speaking of my son, you mentioned issues with his visits to Seanna. Shocking, really. No one could ever foresee how that would go wrong. Oh, wait. I believe I did. Note, for the record, then, please, that I objected, both to the visits and to keeping you out of the loop."
I hesitated, my purse in hand. Then I rolled my eyes. "Yep, keeping things from me is never a good idea, which you'd think Gabriel would know by now."
"Well, I'm glad he came clean, and since you don't seem terribly upset, I appreciate that you understood his motivation."
"I'm trying."
He got to his feet. "I know I was ready to let Pamela kill Seanna..."
"Let her? Pretty sure you were facilitating it. After I asked you to stop her."
"A misunderstanding. But I will admit now that you were right. If Gabriel had stood by and let that happen, while he might tell himself he didn't care, he would have suffered guilt that he doesn't deserve. So whatever is happening now, it's not your fault."