Chimes at Midnight
Page 55
“And if we don’t?” I twisted so I could see his face. “What if it’s me, and chunks of frozen blood, and a human grave? What then?”
“Then I stay beside you for as long as we have.” He kept stroking my hair. Cats like to be petted. Cait Sidhe like to pet. “October, I meant it when I told you I was not leaving you. I will never leave you while both of us are living. You were not quite this human when I met you, and you were far less human when I finally allowed myself to love you. But the essential core of your being has remained the same no matter what the balance of your blood.”
“How is it that you always know the exact right stupid romance novel thing to say?” I asked, leaning up to kiss him.
He smiled against my lips. When I pulled back, he said, “I was a student of Shakespeare centuries before the romance novel was even dreamt. Be glad I do not leave you horrible poetry on your pillow, wrapped securely around the bodies of dead rats.”
“Cait Sidhe romance,” I said, and laughed. “It’s definitely different.”
“I simply wish to ensure you are never bored.”
“Toby doesn’t do ‘bored,’” said the Luidaeg, walking back into the room. She was carrying a baggie of her own. This one was smaller, and contained what looked like a handful of black cherry cough drops, larger and darker than the blood gems I’d gotten from Walther. She thrust it toward me. “Here.”
“What—?” I took the bag.
“I can’t transform your blood into something that can sustain you, but I can freeze mine. If things get desperate, try one of these. Just . . . make sure things are bad, okay? They’re going to have a hell of a kick.”
I looked at the lozenges with newfound respect, and more than a little wariness. “You froze your own blood?” My magic drew power from blood—any blood. But the blood of a Firstborn wasn’t something to mess around with. I could do myself some serious damage with her blood, if I took too much of it, if the power overwhelmed me.
And that was a risk worth taking, if the Luidaeg really thought that it would help.
“I have plans for you, October Daye. They don’t include you dying human of a stupid addiction.” The Luidaeg shook her head. “I can’t help you get a hope chest. I can’t even necessarily help you find your mother—although I can go looking for her, and I will, as soon as you people get the hell out of my bedroom. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll find you.”
“On that terrifying thought . . .” I stood, tucking the bag of lozenges into my jacket. Both my inside pockets were filled with solidified blood now: mine and the Luidaeg’s. I just hoped I wouldn’t confuse the two. “Tybalt, you good for a trip back to my car? It’s time for me to go back onto the grid, and stop wanting to pass out every time we move from point A to point B.”
“Or you could call your friend the taxi driver,” said the Luidaeg. “Don’t exhaust your allies, Toby. You’re going to need them before the night is through. Now get out.”
I considered asking what she meant, but knew I wouldn’t get anything but vague implications of danger to come and maybe some profanity I hadn’t heard in a while. So I just nodded, and said, “I’ll call if anything changes,” before following Tybalt out of the bedroom and heading for the front door.
I was about to step out when a hand descended on my shoulder. I looked back to see the Luidaeg standing behind me, concern written baldly on her face.
“You’re fragile right now,” she said. “Try to be careful, okay? You’re the only niece I’m actually speaking to these days. I’m not in the mood to see you dead.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
She scowled. “Next time, say it like you mean it. Now out.” She pushed me over the threshold, slamming the door behind me.
Tybalt blinked.
I looked at him, and smiled. “She really does care,” I said, before digging my phone out of my pocket. I flipped it open, scrolled through my contact list, and raised it to my ear. A few seconds later, I said, “Hello, Danny? It’s October. I need a ride . . .”
SEVENTEEN
DANNY’S CAB SCREECHED around the corner at a speed somewhere between “unsafe” and “suicidal.” He got extra points for driving that fast through the thick fog that had risen to shroud the entire block while Tybalt and I waited for him to arrive. I hoped it was the Luidaeg trying to give us a little extra cover, and not some sort of nasty present from the Queen. Standing there in the chilly night air, I was very aware that the Queen—illegitimate or not—was part Sea Wight, and I had no idea whether she had access to Sea Wight weather magic.
Then the cab door was slamming shut, and the mountain that was Danny McReady was storming toward us through the fog. “Somebody call for a—Oberon’s scrotum, girl, what did you do to yourself this time?”
“Hi, Danny,” I said, the ghost of a smile on my face. I couldn’t see his expression, but I knew that tone. He’d be looking at me with raw, almost offended incredulity, like he was sure he could figure out the trick if he just stared hard enough. “You like my new look? I’m calling it ‘mortality chic.’”
“It is a good thing fashions change so quickly these days,” said Tybalt. He raised a forefinger. “A point of order—did you just swear by Oberon’s scrotum?”
“Situation demanded it.” Danny stepped closer, and now I could see his face. The incredulity was there, mixed in equal measure with concern. It was like being worried at by a statue. “You okay?”
“Just don’t hug me, and I’ll be fine,” I said, reaching out to rest a hand against his arm.
Danny McReady is a Bridge Troll—eight feet tall if he’s an inch, with skin the color and consistency of granite, and the sort of natural strength that would allow him to fling a Buick, if he wanted to. A hug from him would probably have resulted in my mostly-human guts coming out of my mostly-human eyes. And nobody wanted that.
“Yeah.” Danny frowned before taking an exaggerated step backward, like he’d just realized how fragile I really was. “You guys needed a ride?”
“We do,” I confirmed, and started for the cab. Looking displeased about the whole situation, Tybalt followed. I smiled at him, and smiled again when I saw that the cab was blessedly free of Barghests. “You left the kids at home!”
“Then I stay beside you for as long as we have.” He kept stroking my hair. Cats like to be petted. Cait Sidhe like to pet. “October, I meant it when I told you I was not leaving you. I will never leave you while both of us are living. You were not quite this human when I met you, and you were far less human when I finally allowed myself to love you. But the essential core of your being has remained the same no matter what the balance of your blood.”
“How is it that you always know the exact right stupid romance novel thing to say?” I asked, leaning up to kiss him.
He smiled against my lips. When I pulled back, he said, “I was a student of Shakespeare centuries before the romance novel was even dreamt. Be glad I do not leave you horrible poetry on your pillow, wrapped securely around the bodies of dead rats.”
“Cait Sidhe romance,” I said, and laughed. “It’s definitely different.”
“I simply wish to ensure you are never bored.”
“Toby doesn’t do ‘bored,’” said the Luidaeg, walking back into the room. She was carrying a baggie of her own. This one was smaller, and contained what looked like a handful of black cherry cough drops, larger and darker than the blood gems I’d gotten from Walther. She thrust it toward me. “Here.”
“What—?” I took the bag.
“I can’t transform your blood into something that can sustain you, but I can freeze mine. If things get desperate, try one of these. Just . . . make sure things are bad, okay? They’re going to have a hell of a kick.”
I looked at the lozenges with newfound respect, and more than a little wariness. “You froze your own blood?” My magic drew power from blood—any blood. But the blood of a Firstborn wasn’t something to mess around with. I could do myself some serious damage with her blood, if I took too much of it, if the power overwhelmed me.
And that was a risk worth taking, if the Luidaeg really thought that it would help.
“I have plans for you, October Daye. They don’t include you dying human of a stupid addiction.” The Luidaeg shook her head. “I can’t help you get a hope chest. I can’t even necessarily help you find your mother—although I can go looking for her, and I will, as soon as you people get the hell out of my bedroom. Don’t come looking for me. I’ll find you.”
“On that terrifying thought . . .” I stood, tucking the bag of lozenges into my jacket. Both my inside pockets were filled with solidified blood now: mine and the Luidaeg’s. I just hoped I wouldn’t confuse the two. “Tybalt, you good for a trip back to my car? It’s time for me to go back onto the grid, and stop wanting to pass out every time we move from point A to point B.”
“Or you could call your friend the taxi driver,” said the Luidaeg. “Don’t exhaust your allies, Toby. You’re going to need them before the night is through. Now get out.”
I considered asking what she meant, but knew I wouldn’t get anything but vague implications of danger to come and maybe some profanity I hadn’t heard in a while. So I just nodded, and said, “I’ll call if anything changes,” before following Tybalt out of the bedroom and heading for the front door.
I was about to step out when a hand descended on my shoulder. I looked back to see the Luidaeg standing behind me, concern written baldly on her face.
“You’re fragile right now,” she said. “Try to be careful, okay? You’re the only niece I’m actually speaking to these days. I’m not in the mood to see you dead.”
“I’ll try,” I said.
She scowled. “Next time, say it like you mean it. Now out.” She pushed me over the threshold, slamming the door behind me.
Tybalt blinked.
I looked at him, and smiled. “She really does care,” I said, before digging my phone out of my pocket. I flipped it open, scrolled through my contact list, and raised it to my ear. A few seconds later, I said, “Hello, Danny? It’s October. I need a ride . . .”
SEVENTEEN
DANNY’S CAB SCREECHED around the corner at a speed somewhere between “unsafe” and “suicidal.” He got extra points for driving that fast through the thick fog that had risen to shroud the entire block while Tybalt and I waited for him to arrive. I hoped it was the Luidaeg trying to give us a little extra cover, and not some sort of nasty present from the Queen. Standing there in the chilly night air, I was very aware that the Queen—illegitimate or not—was part Sea Wight, and I had no idea whether she had access to Sea Wight weather magic.
Then the cab door was slamming shut, and the mountain that was Danny McReady was storming toward us through the fog. “Somebody call for a—Oberon’s scrotum, girl, what did you do to yourself this time?”
“Hi, Danny,” I said, the ghost of a smile on my face. I couldn’t see his expression, but I knew that tone. He’d be looking at me with raw, almost offended incredulity, like he was sure he could figure out the trick if he just stared hard enough. “You like my new look? I’m calling it ‘mortality chic.’”
“It is a good thing fashions change so quickly these days,” said Tybalt. He raised a forefinger. “A point of order—did you just swear by Oberon’s scrotum?”
“Situation demanded it.” Danny stepped closer, and now I could see his face. The incredulity was there, mixed in equal measure with concern. It was like being worried at by a statue. “You okay?”
“Just don’t hug me, and I’ll be fine,” I said, reaching out to rest a hand against his arm.
Danny McReady is a Bridge Troll—eight feet tall if he’s an inch, with skin the color and consistency of granite, and the sort of natural strength that would allow him to fling a Buick, if he wanted to. A hug from him would probably have resulted in my mostly-human guts coming out of my mostly-human eyes. And nobody wanted that.
“Yeah.” Danny frowned before taking an exaggerated step backward, like he’d just realized how fragile I really was. “You guys needed a ride?”
“We do,” I confirmed, and started for the cab. Looking displeased about the whole situation, Tybalt followed. I smiled at him, and smiled again when I saw that the cab was blessedly free of Barghests. “You left the kids at home!”
