Ashes of Honor: An October Daye Novel

by Seanan McGuire

  “Lucky us,” I said quietly.

  Spike slunk out from under the nearest couch, thorns rattling like bones in the wind. It stayed low to the ground as it crept to press itself against my feet. The pain in my head was abating, or at least that’s what I told myself as I stooped to gather my rose goblin’s thorny body into my arms. It promptly plastered itself into my chest, making small whimpering noises. I gritted my teeth and let it nestle. The thorns hurt when they broke my skin. That was nothing compared to what I’d already been through, and the day wasn’t over yet.

  “Why did Raj’s father come here and try to kill us?” demanded May. “Why did he try to kill you? Dammit, Toby, what the hell is going on? You disappear all day, you don’t call, you don’t tell me what’s going on, and then a man I’ve never met before is here slamming my girlfriend into walls! Why is this happening?”

  I swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to say. “I’m sorry” seemed insufficient. She was right. I should have been here when Samson came; I should have called and warned her that she might be in danger, if nothing else. But it had never occurred to me that he might come here, or that he’d take his anger at me out on my Fetch and her girlfriend.

  “I’m sorry,” I said finally, choosing insufficiency over silence. May’s expression hardened further, until she might as well have been made of stone. “I didn’t know he would come here. Please believe me, I had no idea.”

  “And I don’t understand why he would,” said Tybalt. “There was nothing here for him.”

  “We may not be Toby, but we’re not ‘nothing,’” snarled May.

  Tybalt put his hands up. “I did not mean to imply that you were nothing, merely that there was nothing here for Samson to find. Whatever he was looking for—”

  “He was looking for me,” I said. All three of the other people in the room turned to me. I kept talking, saying, “The last he saw, we were falling into a hole that Chelsea tore in the world. I was pretty hurt, but he’s smart enough to know that I was going to heal and you weren’t. The smart thing for us to do would have been to split up, send you one way to get medical care, send me the other way to take care of Chelsea. How was he supposed to know we’d be total morons and stay together?”

  “And the logical place for you to go would be here?” asked Tybalt.

  May sighed. “Okay. Now we’ve hit something that’s not her fault. It’s mine. Tracking spells sometimes decide that I’m Toby. Something about me being made from her blood and bone confuses them, even though I’m not Dóchas Sidhe.”

  “So he used a tracking spell, it led him here, and then he got pissed when he couldn’t find me,” I said. “That’s a big risk to take. I mean, killing me is going to open a pretty big can of worms…”

  “But if his son has just been elevated to the throne of the Court of Dreaming Cats, he need never again enter a place where those consequences are his to face,” said Tybalt. He rubbed his face with one hand, looking unbearably weary. “Milady Fetch, I beg your forgiveness.”

  “I’m not the one with the broken arm,” said May, putting a protective arm around Jazz’s shoulders. “Is he going to come back here?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I glanced to Tybalt, then back to the pair of them. “Call a taxi. Have it take you to Goldengreen. Count Lorden will let you stay there, and Marcia—”

  “Isn’t a real healer,” snapped May, her arm tightening. Jazz whimpered. May loosened her grip. “I’m sorry, baby. You need a healer. She needs a healer!”

  “Jin is in Tamed Lightning right now, but we can’t take you both through the shadows,” I said. “Even if Tybalt could carry all three of us—”

  “Which I could not do, at present,” interjected Tybalt.

  “—even if he could, Jazz is hurt, and neither of you is used to it.”

  May grimaced. “I remember the Shadow Roads. The first time…”

  “Remembering them doesn’t mean your body has adjusted,” I said. “It wouldn’t work.”

  “Goldengreen doesn’t even have a real healer,” said May.

  “Marcia does okay with a first aid kit, and she can put together a sling until we can get Jin to Goldengreen or Jazz to Shadowed Hills. With Samson on the loose out there, you can’t spend an hour in a cab to get to Sylvester or two hours to get to Tamed Lightning,” I said. The pounding in my head was fading, replaced by spinning as the bones of my skull knitted back together and burned through more of my body’s denuded resources.

  “She’s right,” said Jazz. She straightened a bit, standing on her own. “Goldengreen is the best place for us right now.”

  “Honey—”

  “I mean it. We can’t stay here.” Jazz shuddered. “If he came back…”

  “He won’t come back.”

  “But if he came back. He’d kill us. And we can’t go to a human hospital, not without getting a whole bunch of questions I’m not ready for.” Jazz shook her head. “Goldengreen is the only answer. We have to go.”

  “I’ll call us a cab. Danny will be thrilled to drive us, as long as we don’t bleed on the seats,” said May. Moving with surprising speed, she leaned over and grabbed my wrist, jerking me toward her. I somehow managed not to fall over as I stumbled across the floor. “Come on, Toby. You’re the one who has his number memorized.”

  I knew the half-murderous, half-grim look on her face. I had to go with her, or she was going to start swinging. “Tybalt, keep an eye on Jazz,” I said, letting myself be pulled out of the living room and across the hall into the kitchen.

  May let go of me long enough to close the kitchen door. Then she turned to face me, slowly looking me up and down. “How bad was it?” she asked finally.

  “If you were still my Fetch, you’d probably be feeling pretty shaky,” I said. “And if Amandine hadn’t shifted my blood, I’d definitely be dead. I think I saw my own intestines.”

  “You sure do know how to have a good time.” She rubbed her face with one hand. It was a gesture so familiar that it hurt. I know May’s memories don’t just come from me—she has Dare’s memories, too, and the memories of the night-haunt she used to be—but sometimes looking at her is like looking in a slightly sideways mirror. “How much danger are we in, October? And how much of it is your fault?”

  “I…what?”

  She dropped her hand. “You’ve been trying to find a cliff to throw yourself off of since Connor died. I won’t pretend I’ve been cool with it, but I remember dying so many times—I remember being the one mourned for and the one in mourning so many times—that I’ve been willing to let it slide. I figured you’d find your way back to yourself. Only now you’ve finally found a cliff that might actually stand a chance of killing you, and you’re going to take us right over the edge with you. Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you warn us?” She took a heavy breath, let it out, and asked, “Are you mad at us for surviving when he didn’t?”

  Fetches are created when a night-haunt drinks the blood of a living person. It’s Oberon’s way of keeping the night-haunts from getting out of control and killing everyone they meet. One of the first things I did when I came back from my fourteen-year absence was go up against my former mentor, a man named Devin. He’d replaced me with two new kids, Manuel and Dare. Dare said I was her hero. I got her killed. But somehow, that didn’t change her mind, and when the night-haunt with her memories had the opportunity to help me, she took it. In the process, she got herself called as a Fetch. My Fetch.

  She’d already died for me once. If she thought I was mad at her for not dying for me a second time, I was doing something unforgivably wrong.

  My silence had lasted too long. Something hardened in May’s eyes, and she started to turn away from me. “Yeah. I thought so.”

  “May, wait.” I grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. She didn’t look back at me. That was okay. She could hear me whether she was facing me or not. “I didn’t call because I didn’t think of it. That was stupid, and I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t think Sam
son would come here.”

  “Are you going to try telling me you haven’t been attempting suicide every day since Connor died?” She looked over her shoulder without turning around, so that only a half-crescent of her face was visible. It was enough to let me see her eyes. They were the foggy no-color gray that had been in my mirror for most of my life, but the look in them wasn’t mine. It was the look I saw once in the brilliantly green eyes of a teenage girl who died because I couldn’t save her.

  “No,” I said quietly. “I think you’re right. You’re all right. Tybalt accused me of the same thing, and I couldn’t even get mad, because you’re all right. But I’m done now. I’m done throwing myself off cliffs and hoping I won’t be there after I hit the bottom. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you. I’m sorry.”

  The corner of May’s mouth pulled into a smile. “You just said you were sorry like three times.”

  “It bears repeating. I have a lot to be sorry about.”

  “Yeah. You do.” She finally turned to face me. “You’re sure you’re done being an idiot?”

  “Well. I’m sure I’m done being more of an idiot than I normally am.”

  “That’s a start.” May removed my hand from her arm. Then she stepped closer and hugged me, hard.

  I’ve never been much of a hugger. There have always been people that didn’t apply to. I wrapped my arms around her, returning her embrace. Her skin smelled like cotton candy and ashes, the remnants of the magic she’d called up during the fight with Samson. Even fae who don’t have access to combat charms will tend to call their magic under that kind of duress. It’s instinctive, a way of grabbing the thinnest straws of hope the world has to offer. Since none of our races began knowing what they were capable of, it makes sense; one day, you might call your power and learn that you were capable of something you never guessed you could do.

  May sighed against my shoulder, and said, “This is all fucked up.”

  “Yeah, it is. But it’s going to get better.” I pushed her away. “We’ll call Danny and get him to come pick you up. Jazz will be safe at Goldengreen. Samson won’t be able to get past Dean’s wards, even if he’s dumb enough to try—which I doubt. You weren’t his target.”

  “And what are you going to do?” May asked.

  I managed a smile. “I’m going to eat a box of Pop-Tarts and drink all the milk in the fridge, because if I don’t give my body something else to work with, I’m going to collapse. Then I’m going to put on different clothes. What I’m wearing right now isn’t going to inspire much confidence in the people around me.”

  “Those jeans are trashed,” said May. “There isn’t enough hydrogen peroxide in the world to deal with that much blood.”

  “I know,” I said dolefully. “I’d just managed to get them broken in, too.”

  “The true tragedy of the day is at last revealed,” said Tybalt from the doorway. “Not the assassination attempts, the injuries, or the betrayals. The loss of a pair of denim trousers.”

  “Hey, man, I worked hard to make these jeans fit exactly how I liked them,” I said, turning. Tybalt was holding the kitchen door open. Jazz was standing behind him, still clutching her injured arm. “What’s going on?”

  “We grew concerned when your disappearance was not followed by the sound of screaming, and I wanted to be sure our Lady Fetch had not elected to bury one of the kitchen knives in your eye.” Tybalt offered a bow toward May. “I appreciate your failure to stab her. I doubt she has any blood left to lose.”

  “I took some of that Canadian Tylenol Quentin keeps in the medicine cabinet,” said Jazz. “It’s helping a little, but I’d still really like to get to Goldengreen.”

  That was a hint if I’d ever heard one. May and I exchanged a look before I nodded and started toward the kitchen phone. “I’m on it.”

  I dialed and handed the phone to May, not waiting for Danny to pick up. She was the one who needed the ride, and if I tried to explain what was going on, he’d want the whole story. We didn’t have time for that. Technically, I’d been wasting time by stopping to talk to May in the first place, but that part hadn’t been optional. It was my fault she got hurt. It was my fault Jazz got hurt. If she wanted me to explain myself, I owed her that.

  May was still talking when I grabbed a pack of Pop-Tarts from the box and left the kitchen, heading for the stairs.

  Tybalt followed me out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

  “To my room,” I said. “I need to change my clothes. I would wash the blood out of my hair, but then it would freeze solid when we went back to Tamed Lightning. I’ll have to be a redhead for a little longer.”

  “Charming.”

  “Hey. I work with what I’ve got.” My stomach rumbled. I opened the Pop-Tarts, looking back at him as I climbed. “You probably need fresh clothes, too.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you about to tell me you have a pair of sweatpants in just my size sitting in a drawer somewhere? Because I think I would prefer to be naked.”

  We still had all of Connor’s things in a box in the attic, but he and Tybalt weren’t the same height; Connor had actually been a few inches taller than Tybalt, probably because he was born more recently, and people are taller now than they were three or four centuries ago. I’m not sure why the human-form purebloods have continued getting taller along with the human population of the world; maybe it’s an automatic thing, one more form of subtle camouflage. Regardless, Tybalt would have looked like an idiot in Connor’s pants.

  Even as I had the thought, I realized that it didn’t hurt. I was thinking about Connor, and it didn’t hurt. Maybe I was getting better after all.

  “No, but if you want to run back to the Court of Cats, I can wait for you here.”

  A shadow flickered across his face, there and gone in an instant. “Would that I could, October, but that door is not open to me at the present.”

  I stopped as I reached the landing. “What do you mean? You’re the King.”

  “Yes, I am. And if I return to the Court, I will need to begin the process of resolving the dissent Samson has so industriously sown.” Tybalt paused, rubbing his hand across his face before he added, “I don’t know when I’d be able to come back, Toby. I’d be leaving you when you need me the most—and while I wouldn’t normally put your welfare above that of my Court without true agony, this time, the two are the same. Whatever Samson has against me, he has against you as well. I will not leave you vulnerable to him.”

  He sounded so tired and so earnest. I worried my lip between my teeth before asking, “Does this have anything to do with what you told me before?”

  Tybalt blinked. Then he snorted a brief laugh, and asked, “October, in the years since your return…has anything not been in some way related to what I told you before? You handed me a hope chest in a dark alley. You took my heart as collateral, and you’ve never returned it.”

  Things always get messed up when I think about them too much. So this time, I didn’t let myself think. I took a few quick steps down, closing the distance between us, and planted a kiss on Tybalt’s mouth. His eyes widened in surprise. Just as he was recovering enough to kiss me back, I stepped away, and said, “I’m going to get changed. Go make sure May and Jazz go off with Danny, okay? I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

  “Yes,” said Tybalt, sounding slightly dazed—and then he turned and went.

  It wasn’t until I was in my room with the door securely closed between us that I realized that this was the first time I had kissed him. He’d kissed me, sometimes for show, sometimes because he truly meant it…but I’d never kissed him before. Things between us really were changing. With that thought weighing heavy on my mind, and the fate of Faerie potentially hanging in the balance, I went to get changed.

  TWENTY

  IT TOOK ME LESS THAN TEN MINUTES to strip off my shredded, bloody clothes and replace them with a clean black tank top and jeans. I wiped the worst of the blood off my face and hands with some wet
wipes I’d snagged from KFC the last time I took Quentin out for junk food. By the time I was done, I looked, if not respectable, at least marginally less like I’d just survived one of May’s trashy horror movies. For a finishing touch, I brushed most of the blood out of my hair and skimmed it into a ponytail. Any Daoine Sidhe who got within ten feet of me would smell it, but most other people would assume it was a weird dye job and move on.

  At some point during the process, I ate the first Pop-Tart and most of the second. It says something about how low my blood sugar was that I neither noticed nor cared what flavor they were. I shrugged my leather jacket back on, stuck the last piece of Pop-Tart in my mouth, and opened the bedroom door.

  Tybalt was downstairs, leaning against the wall and looking at Cagney and Lacey, who were sitting by his feet with oddly dejected looks on their furry faces. All three of them turned toward me as I stopped on the bottom step.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Your resident felines were explaining how they could allow Samson to burst in without sounding the alarm,” said Tybalt. Catching my expression, he added, “There was nothing they could have done. I am reassuring them, not scolding them.”

  “You know, every time I think my life can’t get weirder, it ups the ante.” I started walking again, heading for the kitchen. Tybalt paced me. I gave him a sidelong look. “Did May and Jazz leave?”

  “Yes. Danny said hello and that he would have stuck around to talk to you himself, but he was sure you already had enough to worry about, and besides, the Barghests were almost certainly working on eating the backseat.” Tybalt’s pupils narrowed to amused slits as he spoke. “He seemed oddly…unsurprised…to hear that you were unable to greet him because you were upstairs changing into something less bloodstained.”

  “I have my friends well-trained.” I opened the fridge, beginning to gather the makings for a ham sandwich. “Let me just get a little more food in me, and then we can get back to Tamed Lightning.” I paused. “Do you want a sandwich? You haven’t eaten anything all day, and you lost a lot of blood, too.”