Chimes at Midnight od-7

by Seanan McGuire

  That part of my brain was in the minority. Most of me had been transformed into pure wanting, and it wasn’t until I was sucking the crumbs off my fingers that my head cleared enough for me to realize what I’d done.

  “Oh, root and branch,” I swore, woozily. The car was getting blurry around the edges as the goblin fruit kicked in. I fumbled for the knives strapped to my waist, not really caring which one I grabbed, as long as I got something I could use to cut myself.

  May shouted something, trying to pull the knife out of my hand. The car was already starting to fade from view, and it felt like my blood was carbonated. I couldn’t feel my own fingers.

  But I could feel hers.

  “M’sorry,” I managed, and stabbed her in the arm.

  May shrieked. Arden swore. Danny briefly lost control of the car in the commotion, sending us swerving across two lanes of traffic. I ignored them all as I clamped my mouth down over the wound I’d created.

  Her blood tasted like her magic, cotton candy and ashes, as well as the copperier, more expected taste of the blood itself. The fact that I could taste her magic at all was a change, although I wasn’t sure whether it was a good one or a bad one. A stream of faces and flickers of memory tried to rise in my mind’s eye, and I forced them away, refusing to look at them. I was too busy trying to hold my focus, forcing it inward and pushing back the bubbling sensation I could feel working its way through my veins.

  Arden could talk about the dangers of withdrawal all she wanted, and she could even convince May she was right—although the fact that May had that sandwich ready to go probably meant that my Fetch had come up with this particular harebrained scheme at least partially on her own. And maybe they were right . . . for them. They were both purebloods, and neither of them had the kind of magic that could turn them human if given something to work with.

  Goblin fruit counted as “something to work with.” I ignored the sounds around me, and focused on getting as much blood into my body as I possibly could. It was funny, in a sad sort of way: the goblin fruit was the reason I had to do this, but it was also giving me the strength to counter its effects. The fuzziness retreated to the corners of my eyes, and while Arden’s shouts retained an odd echoing quality, they didn’t get any stranger. I pulled my mouth cautiously from May’s arm, checking the size of her actual wound at the same time.

  It was barely more than a scratch. Goblin fruit apparently interfered with my aim in addition to everything else.

  May clamped her hand down over her arm as soon as I was out of the way, eyes wide, and demanded, “What in the name of Oberon and his wives do you think you’re doing?”

  “Surviving.” I wiped my mouth. It left a red trail on the back of my hand. I fought the urge to gag. “What do you think you’re doing? Dangling goblin fruit in front of me like that is dangerous.”

  “You stabbed me!” She made a grab for my knife. I pulled it back, out of her reach. “Oh, no, give me that. You don’t get to stab me and then hold onto your knives.”

  “No, but I do get to stab you if that’s what it takes to keep from turning myself human.” I wiped the blade on my jeans, glaring at her defiantly, before shoving it back into its holster. “Or did you forget that little parlor trick?”

  “You said you couldn’t turn yourself any more human than you already were,” May protested.

  “I said I didn’t have the strength.” I reached up and tucked my hair behind my ears, using the gesture as an excuse to check how pointed they were. They didn’t feel like they’d changed at all . . . this time. That was a small mercy, and one I wasn’t going to count on. “I’ve consumed the Luidaeg’s blood since then. So I had the strength to start a change. I needed the strength, and the focus, to stop it.”

  “You were telling the truth.”

  Arden sounded almost awed. That was enough to pull my attention away from May, and back to her. She was pressed against the door, mismatched eyes wide. “Excuse me?” I said.

  “You’re not Daoine Sidhe. You weren’t lying about that. Your mother . . . Amandine is the Last Among the First?” She said it like it was a title, each word weighted somehow, so that they stood separate and distinct from the rest of the sentence. She said it the way I would have said “once upon a time,” and for some reason, that terrified me.

  “Um . . . yeah?” I said, glancing to May for help. She shook her head, looking as mystified as I felt. “I told you that, remember? Mom’s Firstborn.”

  “She was here all along.” Arden sagged, looking suddenly stricken. “Father could have saved himself.”

  “What?” I demanded.

  “What?” May echoed.

  “We’re at Muir Woods,” said Danny. We all turned to stare at him. He grimaced apologetically. “Sorry. Just thought you’d like to know.”

  “You said we had an hour,” I protested.

  “You were latched onto my arm for a while,” said May.

  I groaned, running my hand back through my hair. “Of course I was. Swell. Arden, you have until Danny parks this car to tell me what the hell you’re talking about. Talk fast.”

  “A woman—Oleander de Merelands—came to the Court a week before the earthquake,” said Arden. “She told Father that the Last Among the First was in the Mists. She said the Last was going to shake the world down if we didn’t find and stop her. He searched, but there wasn’t much time, and there was nothing to be found. The only Firstborn even rumored to live in the Bay Area was the sea witch, and no one finds her when she wants to be left alone. Time ran out. The world fell down.”

  “And your father died,” I said grimly. “I’m willing to bet that had more to do with Oleander than it did with the earthquake.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Arden. “Amandine? Really?”

  “That was pretty much my reaction.” I looked to May as the car rolled to a stop. “How’s your arm?”

  “Almost healed. I’m not in your league, but I’m close. It’s a Fetch thing.” She scowled. “Don’t stab me again.”

  “I wasn’t planning to. Don’t feed me any more goblin fruit.”

  “Deal.”

  “You ladies keep havin’ sharing time. I’ll be right back.” Danny got out, lumbering over to the chained gate into the parking lot. Madden jumped out after him, tail pluming wildly, and vanished into the underbrush.

  “Should I be concerned?” I asked.

  “No,” said Arden. “He’ll check for dangers and be there when we get out of the car. You’ll see.”

  “Huh.” Cu Sidhe and Cait Sidhe were very different. And yet maybe not. I would have been just that sure of Tybalt. “Uh, so are the two of you . . . ?”

  Arden actually laughed. “Me and Madden? No. Even if I was interested, his boyfriend would kill me with a hammer.”

  “Just asking.”

  Danny had reached the chain holding the gate closed. He stooped, saying something to the lock. Even with the windows down I couldn’t hear him, but apparently the metal of the hasp liked what it was hearing, because it popped open. Danny removed it, pulling the chain free, and opened the gate before walking back to the car and getting in. “Here we go.”

  “I love Trolls,” said May blissfully, leaning forward and hugging Danny’s neck around the back of the seat. He didn’t say anything, but I could see his smile reflected in the rearview mirror.

  Arden was still staring at me with a strange mix of confusion and anger in her eyes. I did my best to ignore her. As soon as the car stopped, I undid my seatbelt and slid out into the cool, redwood-scented air of Muir Woods. Somewhere in the tall old trees an owl shrieked, and something rustled through the underbrush. I felt like an intruder, stepping into a world that was never meant to be mine—and at the same time, I felt like I was coming home.

  It was a changeling’s dilemma, writ large through every cell of me. The trouble was that this time, I knew what I was missing. I wanted my real world back.

  Arden stopped next to me and tilted her head back to look at
the trees, eyes filling with slow tears. I didn’t say anything as May stepped up on my other side. I just waited. Finally, Arden spoke.

  “I haven’t been here since Father died.” Her tears slipped free, running down her cheeks. “It still looks just the same.” Madden came bounding back out of the trees, stopping beside her. He didn’t shift back to human form.

  “Let’s see if that applies everywhere,” I said. “Come on.”

  We walked into the forest. Madden quickly ran ahead, visible only as an occasional glimpse of white between the night-blackened trunks. An owl screeched, protesting this intrusion. Madden barked gleefully back. At least one of us was having a good time. Of the five of us, I was the only one who’d been to the shallowing in the last hundred years, if at all. May walked beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, where she could pull me back before I went blundering off into the underbrush or walked into a creek. I made my way through the redwoods largely by feel, pausing occasionally to get my bearings.

  “Toby . . .” said May.

  “I know,” I said. “Just trust me, okay? Sooner or later, Arden’s going to say—”

  “I know where we are.” Arden pushed past me, suddenly moving through the trees with purpose. May muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “I hate you,” and tightened her grip on my arm, stepping in front of me so that she could haul me after the fleeing Princess. Danny brought up the rear, moving surprisingly quietly for someone his size.

  Arden led us up a series of mud and timber steps that had been cut into the side of the hill, breaking into a run when she reached the top. The rest of us followed. When we caught up with her again, she was standing in front of an enormous redwood tree, with Madden sitting near her feet. The trunk was bigger around than my kitchen; you could have hollowed it out and used it as a good-sized living room. She was crying again. That wasn’t really a surprise.

  “I’m here.” She raised her hands, pressing them flat against the tree. “I’m sorry. It took too long, and I’m sorry, but I’m really here. It’s me.”

  Nothing happened.

  Arden took a step backward, away from the tree. “It’s going to be like this, huh? Okay. I can handle that.” She turned to me. “Can I borrow your knife please?”

  “Um. Sure.” I pulled the silver knife from my belt and offered it to her, hilt first.

  “Thank you,” said Arden, with ritual formality. Thanks are always serious in Faerie, not least because they imply fealty—in this case, my fealty to her. She was beginning to accept who she was. Not waiting to see how I would respond, she turned back to the tree and ran the edge of my knife across her left index finger, pressing down until she drew blood. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away.

  “My name is Arden Windermere,” she said. “My father was Gilad Windermere. My mother was Sebille, of no family line. They are gone now, both of them; they have stopped their dancing. I have not. In the name of the line of Windermere, I ask you to open your door to me. Know me, accept me, and welcome me home.” She pressed her bloody fingertip against the tree, and smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

  What happened next . . . I might have understood it a little better if I’d been more fae at the time. One moment, the tree was intact, and the next, there was a great hollow in its center. That, I had almost expected, based on my previous visit to Muir Woods. What I didn’t expect was the door, a huge, ornately-carved thing that filled the hollow. As we watched, it swung open, revealing a vast hall so choked with cobwebs that the ceiling was invisible. Arden’s smile brightened, becoming almost painful to look at. She started to step forward.

  “This is too easy,” I muttered, and lunged forward, grabbing her arm. She stopped, blinking at me. Fortunately, Madden stopped with her. I was quietly relieved. That would have been a complication I didn’t want to deal with.

  “What are you doing?”

  “This is too easy.”

  “Uh, what? Maybe you’re used to bleeding every time you want something to happen—”

  “She is,” said May.

  “—but that was not easy,” continued Arden, undaunted.

  I shook my head. “Just trust me, okay? This was too easy. The doors shouldn’t have opened without some sort of failsafe, and if Oleander was here a week before the earthquake, if she knew that it was coming, then she killed your father. And Oleander loved traps. Was this door accessible only to people with royal blood?”

  Arden paled. “Oh.”

  “I thought so.” I looked over my shoulder. “Hey, May, come and trigger a booby-trap for us, will you?”

  “Why is that always my job?”

  “Because you can’t die.”

  “Oh, right.” May stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, humming atonally as she stepped through the open doorway into the lost knowe of King Gilad. There was a whistling sound, and a fletched dart appeared in the middle of her chest. She blinked down at it, then shot me an annoyed look. “I better not have just been elf-shot, you idiot.”

  “Do you feel like passing out for a hundred years?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re probably fine. Keep walking.”

  May rolled her eyes before continuing on into the darkened knowe. She vanished into the cobwebs. There was a thumping sound, followed by a meaty thud. “I’m okay!”

  “What happened?”

  “Tripwire! But I think I’m supposed to be dropping dead from neurotoxins right about now, so come on in.”

  Arden looked at me uncertainly. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “We do this sort of thing all the time. If May says it’s safe, there’s a really good chance she’s right.” I decided not to mention that usually “we” meant “me.” There was no point in making things more awkward than they already were.

  “All right . . .” said Arden, and stepped into the knowe.

  There should have been a fanfare, some sort of glorious celebration of the circle that had been broken when King Gilad died and his children lost their parents and their home in the same night. There should have been something. But all we got was a gradual brightening of the room as lights high above the cobwebs came on, glowing golden through the grime of years, and the door swinging closed behind us.

  May walked back to join the rest of us, a gray ghost swathed in dust and cobwebs. “There’s a big receiving room up ahead,” she said. “No more traps that I could find.”

  “We’ll have to check everything twice before we assume it’s safe,” I said. Then I turned to Arden, who was looking around with wide, too-bright eyes. I dropped to one knee and bowed my head.

  “What?” she asked.

  A soft thump told me May had followed my lead. A second, much louder thump told me that Danny had joined us.

  “Your Highness,” I said. “Welcome home.” I raised my head, meeting her eyes. “May we reclaim your Kingdom now?”

  Arden took a deep, shaky breath before she nodded.

  “Yes,” she said. “Why don’t we go ahead and do that?”

  TWENTY-THREE

  WE WERE ALL CAKED IN GRIME by the time Tybalt arrived. He walked in through the now-open door of the knowe and followed the sound of vigorous de-cobwebbing to the receiving room, where we were still hard at work. We didn’t have brooms, so we were making do with branches gathered from the forest outside. Madden had Oleander’s scent from the dart we’d pulled out of May and was following it around the receiving room, barking every time he found something that smelled like a trap. We’d been marking them all with branches, since we also didn’t have the equipment to safely disarm them.

  Tybalt stopped in the doorway, staying well clear of the cascading filth. “This is a charming hovel. In a few decades, it might actually be worth the effort of maintaining. I doubt it, however.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice, isn’t it?” I lowered the branch I’d been using to sweep cobwebs from the wall, smiling at him. The expression felt strained. I had no idea what it looked like, but judging by Tyb
alt’s frown, it didn’t look good. “At least we got in without any fatalities. How did it go at Shadowed Hills?”

  “I do not believe Duke Torquill and I will be friends any time in the near future,” said Tybalt. “Still, he did not eject me on sight, and I did not gut him, so we can both be said to have shown admirable restraint. He is on his way, along with those of his fiefdom who are willing to make an active stand against the Queen. He said they would take an alternate route, and that you would know it.”

  I stared. “He’s getting Luna to open a Rose Road.” Sylvester’s wife, Luna, was a Blodynbryd—sort of a Dryad who was connected to fields of roses, rather than a single tree. Maybe because she was the daughter of two Firstborn, or maybe because she was old enough to have access to some pretty unusual magic, she knew how to open the Rose Roads, one of the old paths that ran through Faerie like roots through soil. But those roads had their costs, and she’d never opened a Rose Road for more than two people at once in all the time I’d known her.

  Tybalt nodded. “They should be arriving shortly.”

  “And the forces from Goldengreen?”

  “Already on their way.”

  I looked across the receiving room to where Arden was pulling down more cobwebs, revealing hand-carved redwood bas-reliefs all along the walls. “We’re really going to do this. We’re going to put this girl in charge of a Kingdom.”

  “Are you having second thoughts?” Tybalt finally moved, ignoring the grime that covered every visible inch of me as he walked over and put his arms around my waist. I relaxed into his embrace, wishing more than anything that I could smell the hot pennyroyal of his magic. I hadn’t realized how much I would miss it until it was gone.

  And that was why I couldn’t be having second thoughts. I shook my head. “No. We’re past that now.”

  “Good. My cats are outside. They won’t engage the Queen’s forces unless they are challenged; if they are, they’ll win.” It wasn’t a boast. Tybalt was telling the truth as he saw it.