It was a good thing I was semi-invisible at the moment, since I knew how strange I would have looked to anyone who could see me: just a woman, running pell-mell down the empty sidewalk, with no one visibly in pursuit. I wanted to stop. My lungs were burning, and my knees had started to ache—a pain from my more mortal days that I’d been more than happy to forget about. The landscape was on my side for the moment, presenting me with a gentle downward slope, but once I crossed 16th, that would stop. If Jazz and the Ravens didn’t meet me there, I’d be running uphill.
Come on, Jazz, I prayed, as I dug deep for one more burst of short-lived speed. I know you can do this. I believe you can do this. So come on, and prove me right. Please.
My next stride hit the sidewalk just a little bit wrong, and I lost my balance, going head over heels before landing in a painful heap against the base of a nearby wall. Spots danced in front of my eyes. I tried to roll to the side, and found myself looking at a series of koi silhouettes that someone had painted on the sidewalk and building. I laughed, and then groaned as it made my head ache even more.
For the first time, I heard footsteps behind me. I tried squinting in their direction, but there was nothing there, and I realized that the feeling of feather-light feet dancing over my collarbone was gone. I raised a hand and touched my chest, confirming what I already partially knew: the firefly was gone. Either the flight or the fall had dislodged it.
“Then there were seven,” I muttered, pulling myself inch by aching inch to my feet. The knees of my jeans were ripped out, and the smell of blood was thick in the air. Good. I raised one scraped palm to my mouth and ran my tongue across it, borrowing what strength I could from my own blood before I snapped, “Well? What are you assholes waiting for? Come on!”
The Queen’s guards stepped out of thin air.
There were five of them, all dressed in the Queen’s livery, all armed. They had to be allowing me to see them through some sort of selective don’t-look-here; those weapons weren’t street-legal, and it wasn’t like I had the power to see through illusions on my own. The figure at the center of the group was a Gwragen, eyes closed and mouth moving in some silent litany as she maintained the spell that was keeping them concealed and keeping the mortal population at bay.
“You’re going to have one hell of a headache in the morning,” I wheezed, and licked my hand again. Despite the bits of gravel and dirt embedded in the skin, the blood tasted good.
“October Daye, you are under arrest—” began one of the guards, a broad-shouldered Satyr with holes cut in his helmet to allow his horns to curl through.
“Sir,” I said, interrupting him.
He stopped, frowning at me. “What?”
“Sir,” I repeated. “If you’re going to arrest me, you’re going to use my proper title. Can’t you people remember your own procedures? I mean, come on.”
He stiffened, lips drawing into a scowl. I wasn’t making any friends with my attitude. But I never do, where the Queen’s men are concerned, and all I needed was enough time for Danny and Quentin to get away from whoever might have followed them. Once they were safe, I could get arrested as much as I wanted to.
“Sir October Daye,” he began, “you are under arrest—”
A vast flock of black-winged birds descended from the sky, talons clawing and wings beating wildly as they mobbed the Queen’s guards. In a matter of seconds, inky feathers had obscured them from my view.
I wasn’t up for running—my running had been used up somewhere between 18th Street and taking a header into the sidewalk—but I was fully equipped to limp laboriously away. The beauty of the hide-and-seek is that you don’t have to go all that far. I stopped on the opposite corner, watching with some satisfaction as Jazz and her flock did their best to recreate The Birds with the Queen’s guard. As for the guards, they held their positions for almost a minute, which is longer than I could have done. Then they turned and ran, with the ravens in hot pursuit.
One large raven stayed behind, fluttering down to land in the street. It picked its way through the fallen feathers, head bobbing. It cawed, an inquisitive sound. I smiled a little. The raven was Jazz, more than likely, and it—she—couldn’t see me. The hide-and-seek was holding.
“Open roads,” I whispered, too softly to be heard, before I pulled the flask out of my jacket and freed another firefly, setting this one on my neck, where it would be hidden by my hair. Once that was done and the flask was put away again, I turned and began limping back up the street toward Borderlands. The fading sound of wings and shouting told me I was moving away from the Queen’s guards. That was good. I really didn’t have a second encounter in me.
It took three times as long to walk the few blocks between me and Borderlands as it had when I was running and—oh, yeah—uninjured. Still, eventually, I found myself in front of the bookstore’s closed screen door. I peered through the window. Danny and Quentin were already inside, looking profoundly uncomfortable as they pretended to browse the bookshelves. The dark-haired woman with the red kerchief was behind the counter, handing a book to a woman in a white peasant blouse. Her hair was an odd shade of silvery-red, like red gold. Neither of them seemed to realize there was anyone else in the store. The hide-and-seek was holding.
The redhead turned to leave. I stepped out of the way, letting her open the door for me. I might be hidden by Quentin’s illusion, but that was no reason to push my luck by making the woman in the kerchief—Jude, that was her name—deal with a door that was opening on its own.
As the redhead stepped out of the store, I stepped in. Danny turned toward me. Quentin and Jude didn’t. I blinked, impressed. The hide-and-seek was clearly better than I’d thought.
Interacting with someone will enable them to see you, illusions or not. I walked over and put a hand on Quentin’s elbow, squeezing when he started to jump. “It’s me,” I said. “Breathe.”
He exhaled. “Toby.”
“Come on.” I gestured for Danny to follow as I led Quentin toward the door leading to the basement. If Arden was here, and hiding, she would be in the makeshift apartment that she’d been sharing with her brother. It was the safest place for her.
Jude didn’t look up as we opened the door and started down, shrouded by the hide-and-seek spell. Once the door was closed behind us, I murmured, “Let it go,” to Quentin.
He released the spell with a sigh of relief. “Ow,” he said. There was a pause, presumably while he got a good look at me. I couldn’t see his face in the dark, but I knew the hole that assessing someone’s injuries could make in a conversation. “Toby? What happened?”
“I think I need a Band-Aid, an icepack, and some new knees,” I said. “Danny, get the lights?”
“Sure thing,” Danny rumbled.
The light clicked on, flooding the basement with light—and revealing the man from the café next door, the one who had served us our coffee. He was wearing another black T-shirt, this one with the Borderlands logo, and holding a crossbow, which was aimed squarely at my chest.
“Hi,” he said, with another tooth-baring smile. “I wondered when you’d get here.”
Crap.
TWENTY
THE STAIRWAY WAS NARROW ENOUGH that there was no way Danny could put himself between me and the arrow without both of us plummeting to the basement floor below. That might have been all right a week ago, but as things stood, either he’d land on me—bad—or I’d land on him—almost as bad, since Bridge Trolls aren’t exactly a soft surface. I raised my hands, trying to show that I wasn’t a threat.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m—”
“I know who you are.” He snorted. “You take your coffee black, and you have no respect for the beans. You shouldn’t gulp it like that. It’s wasteful.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know them, though. Troll and Daoine? And you. You didn’t smell right before, and you smell even less right now. You smell like blood and mistakes. What are you?”
I raised a hand to touch the firefly hidden in my hair
, trying to force my eyes to focus. A glimmer appeared around him, marking the boundaries of a human disguise. “What are you?” I countered. “I don’t know you.”
“I’m Madden,” he said. “I sold you coffee. Remember?”
He sounded so offended by the idea that I’d forgotten him that it was all I could do not to laugh, despite the absurdity of the situation. “That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I meant . . . my name is October Daye. I’m a changeling. These are my friends, Danny and Quentin.”
“Hey,” said Danny.
“Hello,” said Quentin.
“You smelled stronger before,” said Madden.
“It’s been a strange week,” I said. “Now please . . . what are you? How could you tell . . . ?”
“Oh!” Madden snorted again before aiming his crossbow at the ceiling. He waggled the fingers on his free hand, and the illusion around him burst like a soap bubble.
The change to his features was subtle. His nose seemed to broaden across the arch and square at the bottom; his eyes grew rounder and took on a golden cast, more wolfish than the honey-gold of the Torquills. The more dramatic change was in his hair, which went from gold to platinum blonde, streaked randomly with blood red. I blinked, and then relaxed.
“Cu Sidhe,” I said. “That’s why you didn’t say anything before. You didn’t want to get into a fight with my companion.” Cu Sidhe—the faerie dogs—have been fighting with the Cait Sidhe since the beginning of Faerie. Anyone who’s ever lived with a cat and a dog at the same time knows that most of the clichés about “fighting like cats and dogs” don’t really apply. The same can’t be said for the Cu Sidhe and the Cait Sidhe. They’ve never gotten along. Faerie didn’t make them that way.
Madden shrugged sheepishly. “I’m not supposed to fight while I’m at work. Alan looks all disappointed and talks about needing to let me go if I can’t mind my temper, and then Arden has to work on him until he changes his mind. She doesn’t like doing that. I don’t like it when she has to. So even when cats come in, I don’t bark. It’s not allowed.”
“That . . . makes a surprising amount of sense, as long as I don’t think about it too hard.” I lowered my hands, waiting for him to jerk the crossbow back into position. He didn’t move. “My friends and I are here—”
“I know why you’re here,” he said, frowning. There was something uncomfortable about being frowned at by a Cu Sidhe. It was like I’d managed to disappoint the universe. “Arden doesn’t want you.”
“This is why I could never date a dog,” I muttered. More loudly, I said, “I know she’s upset, but is she here? We need to talk to her. It’s important.”
There were two steps between me and Danny. Just enough for a body to wedge itself between us. Something sharp was jammed against my back, right over the spot where I judged my kidneys would be located.
“What the fu—”
Danny’s exclamation was cut off by Arden saying softly in my ear, “If he squeezes, I see how far into you I can jam this before I stop breathing. I bet it’s pretty far. What do you think?”
“Danny, whatever part of her you have, let go of it,” I said. I didn’t try to turn. The situation was fairly self-apparent, considering the parties involved. I just hoped Arden wouldn’t shove whatever she was holding into something I was going to need later before she gave me a chance to explain.
“The bitch has a knife,” said Danny.
“Yeah, and the knife is at my kidneys, so let her go,” I said. “It’ll be okay.”
“Will it?” snarled Arden. “Let’s ask Nolan, shall we? Oh, wait. We can’t.”
“That’s what I’m here about,” I said. “Can we sit down and talk about this like civilized people, instead of standing here and talking about it like people who use knives to get what they want? Please?”
“Hi, Arden,” said Madden happily. “I found the people you said might be coming. Well. I found the person.” His smile died, short-lived, replaced by confusion. “Two of them aren’t who you asked for. Is that okay? Did I do okay?”
“You did great,” said Arden, with a note of affectionate praise that couldn’t have been faked, even if it was a little forced. I guess “good dog” didn’t come naturally in a situation like this one.
“Yay.” Madden seemed to remember that he was holding a crossbow; he swung it back down to aim at me.
“There’s a knife at my back,” I said flatly. “I don’t think that’s necessary right now.”
“Better safe than sorry,” said Madden.
“Where is my brother?” demanded Arden.
“That’s why we’re here,” I said. “Please, can we just sit down? We just want to talk. I swear, we’re not here to cause any trouble.”
“Drop the disguise.” Her voice was cold. “I want to see what kind of weapons you’re hiding under there.”
“Drop the . . . oh. Oh, right.” The last time I’d seen Arden had been before the pie, and before I’d turned myself mostly human. “I know this is going to be hard to believe, but I’m not wearing a disguise right now, Arden. This is just me.” I gestured toward Madden, and promptly regretted it, as she dug the point of her knife a little deeper. “I’m serious. Ask him what I smell like.”
“Madden?” she asked, suspiciously.
“She’s human,” said Madden. He paused before adding, “Well, mostly, sort of. She smells like people, and like something I don’t know, and like blood, and like goblin fruit.”
“What?” Arden pushed me away from her, sending me stumbling down the stairs toward Madden. That wasn’t a good move on her part. I’d barely gone two steps when she made an outraged squeaking noise. I turned to see Danny’s hand wrapped around her head, all but obscuring her face. More importantly, it was blocking her eyes. A Tuatha de Dannan who can’t see is a Tuatha who can’t teleport. Arden clawed at his hands, still squeaking.
I sighed. “Danny, let her go.”
“What?” He frowned over the top of her head. “She can’t go anywhere when I got hold of her like this.”
“Okay. One, he,” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder, indicating Madden, “still has the crossbow. So she’s not the only threat here. Two, I’m still technically in charge. So could we please stop arguing about crushing the Princess’ head, and let her go already?”
Danny blanched. “Oh, hell, I forgot that part,” he said, and let Arden go. She stumbled forward before sitting down heavily on the steps and glaring up at Danny. He grimaced. “Sorry, Your Highness.”
“I hate you people,” she said, climbing back to her feet. She transferred the glare to me. “What are you doing here? Where’s my brother? What happened to you?”
“We are here because we still need your help, and now, so does Nolan,” I said. “The Queen of the Mists has him.”
“Bitch took him while she was arresting the Duchess,” snarled Arden. She bounded down the stairs to stand in front of me, so close that we were practically nose-to-nose. “Where. Is. He? Tell me. I will get him back, and then you will never see us again.”
“This is still your Kingdom.”
“And a fat lot of good that’s done me!” Arden snarled. “This Kingdom killed my father! My brother’s been asleep for so long that I have no idea how I’m going to get him to adjust to this world when he wakes up! This Kingdom has ruined my life, and now you’re here, stinking of goblin fruit and saying I have a responsibility to it? Screw that. Tell me where to find Nolan. We’re leaving.”
“You asked what happened to me,” I said. “Let me tell you what happened to me. The Queen? That same Queen who had your brother elf-shot, and who has him now? She sent a man to hit me with a goblin fruit pie.”
“I like pie,” said Madden.
“What does pie have to do with anything?” Arden glowered at me, looking frustrated. Honestly, I understood how she felt. There just wasn’t anything I could do about it.
“When we first met, did you assume that I was Daoine Sidhe?” Arden didn’t answer, but the
n, she didn’t need to. Her expression was answer enough. “My mother, Amandine, she’s—”
“Wait: Amandine?” Arden’s expression shifted from confusion to outright disbelief. “You can’t be Amandine’s kid. You’re part human. Juniper and thorn, you’re mostly human. She’d never bed a human man. Her husband would never stand for it.”
Now it was my turn to look confused. “What are you talking about? Mom’s not married. She was married to my father, but he’s dead now. And before he died, he was human.”
A strange look crossed her face. Then she shook her head, and said, “I don’t care. I don’t care who your mother is, or why that makes pie your weakness. I want my brother back.”
“Amandine isn’t Daoine Sidhe, and neither am I. It’s hard to explain, but when the Queen sent that man . . . I think she was trying to get me hooked so she could destroy my credibility. Maybe that would have worked, except I’m not Daoine Sidhe. I didn’t just get hooked. I changed the balance of my own blood so that the goblin fruit would be even stronger. I turned myself mostly human.”
“So turn yourself back,” she said.
“I can’t. I need a hope chest.”
Arden raised her eyebrows. “My brother is missing and you came to ask if I have something that doesn’t exist? Are you high? Oh, wait, goblin fruit—of course you’re high. There are no hope chests, October. They’re a fairy tale.”
“Says the lost Princess of the Mists,” I snapped. “They’re real. Evening had one. I found it after she died.”
“So? Then you don’t have a problem. Get the hope chest, do whatever it is you do with hope chests, and leave me out of it. I just want to get my brother and get out of here.”
Chimes at Midnight od-7 Page 24
