Late Eclipses od-4

by Seanan McGuire

  “Tears. The first time Oberon left Maeve for her pretty sister, she didn’t understand, and she nearly died of sorrow.”

  “She cried?” I pictured Maeve as looking like my mother, beautiful and alien and broken, and I would’ve done anything to keep her from crying.

  “She did. Her tears were the first Undine. They’re hers alone, and because of that, they can’t mate with humans.” Her smile was bitter. I knew she was thinking of my father. “There are no changelings among the Undine.”

  Then she took me back to the Summerlands—home for her, and never for me—and put me to bed. I dreamed all day of children who’d never break their mother’s heart, because they were born from nothing but tears.

  Lily’s cold fingers pulled me back to the present. I shivered. Lily was a constant, like the Torquills; someone who’d always be part of my life. I’m fae enough not to take kindly to change, and she was dying. “Please don’t go. I’m not ready.” I was begging. I didn’t care.

  “Don’t worry, love.” Cracks were opening around her eyes; water glimmered in their depths, where bone should have been. “It doesn’t hurt. You silly ones with your blood and your bones, always so concerned about dying.”

  Tears ran down my cheeks. I wiped them away, but they kept coming. “Please.”

  “Don’t cry.” Lily pressed her free hand against my neck. I was numb enough not to flinch from the cold. “I’m sorry to go, but it’s all right. Rivers dry up; tides ebb; the sea goes on.”

  “We don’t.”

  “Are you sure? Immortality isn’t flesh. You know that.” She took a bubbling breath. Soon those breaths would stop, and she’d be gone. I was holding as tightly as I could, and she was slipping away. What’s the point of holding on if I can’t save the ones I can’t afford to lose?

  The whispering of Lily’s subjects was like a roar behind me. Who would look after them now? I wanted to care, but I couldn’t find the strength. I’m the changeling. I’m the one with the impure blood. I should have been the first to go. Not Lily, not Evening—not any of them. I’m the mortal one, and the world has no right to make me watch them die.

  “I’ll live forever,” she said, hand slipping from mine. “In the rise of rivers in spring, in winter’s snows, in rain running down autumn’s forests. It’s not the immortality of men, but it’s immortality. I know it’s not something you can understand. I wish I could put it in words to comfort you, but the shape of your world and the shape of mine have always been different. Here, more than anywhere, we’re alien to each other. Just believe me when I say this isn’t the end … and I am not afraid.”

  “Don’t leave me,” I whispered. “I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t.”

  “I won’t leave you. That’s the glory of it; don’t you see? The night-haunts won’t come for me, because there won’t be anything to come for. What I am, what I’ve been, it’s all part of the water.” Lily smiled, eyes closing as the outline of her face faded into the ripples around her. “Look to the water.” Her voice changed, becoming distant; she wasn’t talking to me anymore. She was done talking to me. “Oh … oh, look, Ama-chan, look. Konya no sakura wa totemo kirei da na … the cherry blossoms … so beautiful … ”

  And she was gone, body melting into the pool, hair becoming nothing but a shadow. I pitched forward, arms driving into the water up to the elbows. For a moment, there was silence. Then someone made a single, sobbing sound of protest, and it was like a dam breaking. A keening wail rose on all sides as Lily’s subjects realized that it was over, it was finished. She was gone.

  Tybalt pulled me to my feet, drawing me into an embrace. I didn’t fight. For the moment, I belonged there. And when I didn’t belong in the Tea Gardens anymore, someone was going to die. Oberon’s law be damned.

  FOURTEEN

  ISTEPPED FROM THE MOON BRIDGE into the darkness of the Tea Gardens, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets in a vain attempt to warm them. It felt like the cold had crept all the way into my bones; between that and the pounding in my head, it was a miracle I was upright at all. Tybalt walked beside me, not saying anything. That was good. I wasn’t sure there was anything to say.

  Lily’s subjects followed us, watching with wide, terrified eyes as they waited to be told what to do. I didn’t hold their neediness against them; if following made them feel better, let them follow. I didn’t care. Lily was gone. The knowledge was sinking in by inches, becoming part of the way the world was. Fire burned, iron killed, and Lily was dead. Lily was dead, and it was time for me to go.

  “Toby?” Marcia’s tone demanded attention.

  I turned to face her. “What?” I asked, struggling to keep my own voice neutral. I was exhausted, and anger was starting to win out over my grief. I wanted to get out of the Tea Gardens before I said or did something I’d regret.

  “What’s going to happen to us now?” She asked the question so softly that it took me a moment to realize what she’d said.

  I stiffened, cursing inwardly as I scanned Lily’s gathered subjects. There was an almost uniform despair in their eyes; they clearly expected us to walk away. With no one to take care of them and Lily’s knowe collapsing, they had nowhere to go. The other denizens of Golden Gate Park respected Lily, and that would protect her subjects for a while, but not forever. With no one to hold the knowe, greed would overcome respect, and the Tea Gardens would fall.

  Lily wouldn’t have wanted that. I wasn’t going to let it happen.

  “Don’t worry.” I put a hand on Marcia’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Walther stepped up next to her, saying, “Not to sound like a doubting Thomas, but how are you planning to do that?”

  “In the long run, I don’t know. For now … ” I turned to Tybalt. “You were watching the Tea Gardens before. Will you keep watching them long enough for me to find out what’s going on?”

  From the look on his face, Tybalt expected the question. He took my hand, studying me gravely as he asked, “Why me, and not one of your more accepted allies?”

  “Right now, there’s nobody I trust more than I trust you.”

  “Ah. The truth.” He smiled, looking almost tired as he released my hand. “Go, then; I’m sure you have promises to keep. My cats and I will guard your flotsam until you return.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, skirting the forbidden thanks.

  “I know you do. You always do.” Tybalt sighed. “She was my friend, too. Find whoever killed her. If you need me, call.”

  “If I can.” I wasn’t making any promises, but I meant it.

  He paused before reaching out to brush my hair back with a surprisingly gentle hand. “Don’t run yourself to death until you know you have no choice.”

  “I have to go.” I pulled away, turning back to Walther and Marcia. “Can you do me a favor?”

  “What?” asked Marcia, sniffling.

  “Keep everyone here until we know what’s going on.” I wasn’t sure Luna and Lily were targeted because of their connection to me, but the odds were too high to ignore. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Marcia nodded, whispering, “I promise.”

  “I can’t stay here,” Walther said. “I have class.”

  Lily mentioned him testing her water; I hazarded a guess. “You teach forensics?”

  “Chemistry.”

  “Close enough. If I bring you something, can you test it for poison?”

  Walther nodded. “Sure.” He dug a business card out of his pocket. “My class schedule and office hours are on the back.”

  “Great.” I took the card and flipped it over, checking to be sure I could read his writing before tucking it into the pocket of my jacket. “I’ll see you soon.”

  That was that. There were no more excuses to stay and too many reasons to go. Walking out of that garden alone was still one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Lamentations filled the air behind me. I was almost to the gate w
hen a new voice joined in, adding its own harsh, deep sobs. I didn’t look back.

  Tybalt would never have forgiven me for seeing him cry.

  I had to walk in circles with my hands stretched out in front of me for several minutes before my palms bumped into my still-invisible car. When May casts a don’t-lookhere, she really casts a don’t-look-here. Unlocking the door took several more minutes. I was swearing steadily by the time I got inside.

  There was no traffic so close to dawn, and having an invisible car meant there were no speed limits, either. I drove home fast enough to be a danger to myself and others, so focused on the road that I didn’t notice I was crying until I reached my apartment complex, parked the car, and realized my cheeks were damp. I frowned, trying to figure out why. That’s when it wore through the shock and hit me all the way: Lily was dead, and Luna was dying, and nothing I did seemed to be making things any better. I was failing them. “Oh, Lily,” I whispered, wiping my cheeks. “How could you?”

  I left the car in a daze, pausing only to retrieve Luna’s cup. I should have given it to Walther while we were both in the same place … or not. I’d feel safer if I could be there while he ran the tests, and that needed to wait until his office hours. My head was pounding, and tears were running unchecked down my cheeks, but that didn’t matter. Even I’m allowed to grieve.

  The living room was dark. I shoved Luna’s cup into the front closet without turning on the light, then paused, frowning. Spike was compacted into a ball on the corner of the couch, and the cats were pacing in front of May’s door, yowling. May never locks the cats out. She’s more tolerant than I am, and she doesn’t mind being woken at seven in the morning because the girls want to be fed.

  Cagney gave me an indignant look, clearly expecting me to open the door. I moved her aside with my foot, knocking instead. “May? You in there?”

  “Go away!”

  That wasn’t good. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

  Something hit the inside of the door. She was throwing things. “I said go away! ”

  I frowned, putting my hand on the doorknob. My Fetch is normally good-tempered in the extreme, unless you’ve done something to piss her off. She might have heard about Lily, somehow; she’d know what the Undine’s death meant, for both of us.

  “I’m coming in,” I said. She wasn’t ready to deal with this, and she definitely wasn’t ready to deal with it on her own.

  There was no answer. I opened the door.

  May’s room amazes me. I’m not tidy—I tend toward “congenial clutter”—but I’m not a pack rat, whereas May would happily keep a souvenir for every moment of her life. Her room reflects that. One wall is lined with mismatched bookshelves holding her “collections;” the other wall is occupied by two dressers and an oak vanity that I helped her carry home from a garage sale. No one needs as much makeup as was spread across the top of her vanity, or that much costume jewelry.

  May herself was huddled in the middle of the bed with her legs drawn up to her chest and her forehead pressed to her knees. There was something wrong with the shape of her. I just couldn’t tell quite what it was, and that scared me.

  “May?”

  “Lily’s dead, isn’t she?” she asked, not moving.

  I stepped the rest of the way inside, closing the door behind me. “Yeah.”

  “Thought so.” May raised her head, looking at me through the washed-out brown curtain of her hair. I froze, realizing what was wrong as she offered me a bitter smile. “It grew out about an hour ago. Look.” She pulled back her skirt, displaying a circular scar on her upper thigh. “That’s where Blind Michael’s men shot you, isn’t it?”

  “May—”

  “Don’t. You know what this means. We match because the universe thinks you’re going to die soon. And that means I’m going with you.”

  “We can cut your hair.” I didn’t think we could fool reality that easily, but it was worth trying. Anything was worth trying.

  “I already did.” She waved a hand at the floor. A small heap of hacked-off hair lay near the foot of the bed. Some of it was streaked in magenta and blue; the remains of her dye job. “It grew back. You can’t cheat fate, October. We were stupid to try.”

  “No, we weren’t.” I sat down next to her on the bed. “I’m not sorry.”

  May sighed. “I guess I’m not, either. It’s been fun, y’know? This whole thing, it’s been fun.” She shook her head. “I’ll miss the farmer’s market at the Ferry Building. And Telegraph Avenue. And Danny’s crazy Barghest rescue service.” More quietly, she added, “And Jazz. I’ll miss her.”

  “Hey. We can still win.” I stroked her hair back from her face. “Tell me more about Jasmine. Where did you meet her?”

  “On Telegraph.” May sniffled, offering a wan smile. “She runs a junk store. I was buying costume jewelry, and she asked if I wanted to join her in the office for coffee. She was pretty obviously flirting, so I started flirting back. I said sure. I didn’t want her to think I was … you know … ” She waved a hand, indicating me.

  Since I’d never met Jazz before the Ball, it seemed unlikely that she would have mistaken May for me. I ventured, “Daoine Sidhe?”

  “Yeah.” May’s smile grew. “Full disclosure, y’know? So as soon as we got out of the public shop, I dropped my illusions and told her what I was. I figured she’d throw me out as soon as I said ‘Fetch.’ ”

  “But she didn’t.”

  “She didn’t,” May agreed, putting her head down against my shoulder. “She said she’d been in relationships with way bigger problems than one of us being a transitory manifestation of impending doom. Like this one girl who liked her computer more than she liked her girlfriend, and another one who smoked.”

  “She sounds sweet.”

  “She is.” May sighed again, the sound seeming to come up all the way from the soles of her feet. “I think I could’ve loved her.”

  “Hey. Don’t talk like that. It’s not over yet.”

  “It may as well be.” She closed her eyes. “I tried to be different from you. I tried so hard. I guess I just wasn’t good enough.”

  “Hush,” I said. “It’s not your fault. It never was.”

  May wasn’t to blame. She didn’t choose what she was. She did her best with what she had, and that’s all any of us can do. We’re handed the balance of our blood and the shape of our lives and told to do something with them. May started with nothing but a copy of my past, and became someone I couldn’t have been. The universe made her to show that I was going to die, but she developed a life of her own. She became real.

  We all have our roles to play. Even wayward Fetches with no fashion sense.

  We sat that way for a long time before she asked, “Will it hurt?”

  I hate the hard questions. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe you can tell me.”

  “I don’t know, either.” She pulled away. “I think it will. I can almost remember that it will, but it’s not there yet. I can’t know how you’re going to die in time to stop it.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, and I meant it. “I didn’t expect you to know.”

  “Good.” May settled against me, putting her head on my shoulder. “I’m scared.”

  “So am I.” I was starting to cry again, and my head was killing me. I wanted to stay with her and hold her forever, where nothing would ever find or hurt us. I wanted us both to live forever. I just didn’t see any way to make that happen.

  FIFTEEN

  EXHAUSTION CAUGHT UP WITH ME while I was sitting with May; serial killers and sleep deprivation are practically part of my daily life. I woke to the sound of a ringing phone. We’d slept through the dawn, me slumping forward until my elbows rested against my knees, May falling backward to sprawl across the mattress. She looked so damn fragile, one arm thrown over her eyes to block the light.

  “I’ll fix this,” I said, and kissed her forehead before I left the room. I propped the door with a pillow to keep the cats from c
omplaining and still managed to reach the kitchen before the machine picked up. Snatching the receiver from its cradle, I tucked it under my ear and walked toward the kitchen. “It’s Toby.”

  “It’s Connor,” replied the voice on the other end, sounding even wearier than I felt. My breath caught in my chest. I hadn’t realized I was worried about him until I heard his voice. “Are you okay?”

  Connor’s known me longer than almost anybody else. There wasn’t any point in lying to him. “No,” I said. The coffeepot was still half-full. I grabbed a mug and filled it before shoving it into the microwave. Hot coffee. I was not going to survive the day without hot coffee. “You’ve heard?”

  “About Lily? I’ve heard. Luna’s no better, Sylvester’s not talking to anyone, and Rayseline … ” He hesitated, taking a breath before he continued, saying, “She’s stalking the battlements looking for victims. It’s like the haunted halls of Elsinore around here.”

  “Did you just make a Hamlet reference?” The microwave beeped, and I pulled out my mug, moving to get the milk from the refrigerator. The clock on the wall told me it was almost noon. “I guess I really am a bad influence on you.”

  “Yeah, I guess you are.”

  A brief silence fell while I prepared my coffee, broken only by the sound of our breathing. Finally, quietly, I asked, “Is Raysel a danger? Do we need to start thinking about getting you and Quentin out of there?”

  Connor smothered a bitter chuckle. “Has Raysel ever not been a danger? But no, I don’t think she’s more dangerous than usual. She’s focusing on things other than the two of us.”

  “Like pinning the attack on Luna on me,” I concluded, before taking a gulp of scalding coffee. “I’m serious. She starts looking like she’s going to hurt one of you, you get the hell out of there.”

  “Why, Toby. I didn’t know you cared.”

  “I never stopped caring.”

  Silence fell between us again, lasting an impossibly long-seeming time before Connor said, “Toby … ”