Chimes at Midnight
Page 66
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.”
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.”
